Möbius
By
Dragondolphin1990
Forrest Gump Jr. had a relatively good life, considering that he was raised solely by his less-than-smart father. While Forrest grew up, his father often made him read books to him. This happened nearly every day until Forrest turned eleven. By then, his father trusted him to walk to the library on his own, and, since then, he has been reading books far too advanced for his father.
School had always been easy for Forrest, with the sole exception of physical education. Whenever Forrest would see his father out for a run, he would be amazed at his endurance. You see, Forrest was highly asthmatic. The doctors blamed it on the high quantity of drugs his mother used while she was pregnant.
"Forrest. Forrest Gump."
Forrest looked up when he heard his name. Unfortunately, that caused him to trip over his robes. Many other students, especially the jocks laughed for a few seconds. They stopped when the next name was called. It was one of the preppy girls on varsity cheer.
After shaking the principal's hand, Forrest made it back to his seat without tripping again. He turned around to glance at the audience of proud fathers and teary-eyed mothers, and his gaze landed on an empty seat a few rows back. Well, there was one proud father who hadn't made it.
Forrest Sr. had been having some pains recently, most of which were near his butt, where he had been shot in war. Forrest always blushed for his father when that incident was mentioned. Anyway, when his father had gone in for a Cat Scan, the doctors found something else, something worse. So, he had to miss his son's graduation to have a few more tests done.
Seemingly hours later, the graduation ended. He threw up his hat with the others, but he didn't take the time to retrieve it again. Forrest quickly shed his robes-he had clothes on underneath, of course-and drove four miles to the nearby hospital. Unfortunately, the hospital was very busy that day, so Forrest had to park far away. He briskly walked to the entrance, taking as many shortcuts as possible. He walked over grass, an act he hardly ever did, and even walked under a ladder. He had to get to his father as quickly as possible.
A blonde nurse with bags under her eyes directed Forrest to his father's room. She had probably been working for hours now, Forrest assumed, and hoped for her sake that she got off duty soon. Reaching room 209, Forrest lightly rapped on the door before entering.
The first person he saw was an elderly man hooked up to some IV machines, mumbling something obscene under his breath. On the other side of the room was Forrest Sr., sleeping because of some medication. Deciding to let the older man sleep, Forrest sat down and waited.
After sitting a few minutes and getting bored, Forrest located a piece of scratch paper and carefully folded it into a möbius strip. His finger absently traced its side as he continued to wait for his father to awaken. About thirty minutes later, he did.
"Good morning."
"Good afternoon, father. How are you?"
"I'm alright, but they had to poke me with lots of needles earlier. It hurt a little."
"Did the doctors say that you're alright?"
"I haven't seen my doctor since this morning. He is a nice man, that doctor. You really should meet him. His name is Doctor McGregor and he is a near-ologist. I think that means he studies things that are near you."
"I'll talk to Dr. McGregor before I leave."
They were silent a moment. Forrest Sr. was probably reminiscing about Jenny, like he tended to do a lot, and Forrest Jr. was still tracing his piece of paper.
"What's that you've got, Forrest?"
"This? Oh, it's just a möbius strip."
"What is a möbius strip?"
"It's an object that has only one side. See here, you can trace your finger around it, but you always end up at the same place."
The older man carefully held the bit of paper, "You always have such smart things, Forrest."
"Thanks, dad."
"But I still don't get it."
"You start somewhere, and, no matter what you do, you always go back to the beginning."
"Back to the same place? No matter what?"
"Yeah, that's right."
"Well, I'll be."
The nurse walked in, "You must be Mr. Gump's son?"
"Forrest. Forrest Gump," he held out his hand.
The nurse carefully shook it, "I'm sorry, Mr. Gump, but you must go now. Visiting hours are almost over. You can return in the morning."
"My father is staying all night?"
"Yes, it is necessary for the doctors to run more tests to determine just what is wrong with your father."
"I see," he turned to his father, "I'll be back in the morning, alright?"
"Alright, Forrest. I'll see you tomorrow."
Forrest had never been a superstitious man-or a religious man, for that matter-but he would have blamed what happened next on that ladder he walked under earlier. If he remembered the ladder.
As he was driving home from the hospital that night, some drunk driver hit a lamp post just in front of Forrest's car. The light teetered a bit and it came crashing down just as Forrest passed it. It broke through the roof of the car and landed directly on Forrest's head.
The resulting concussion gave him a memory loss, so it was as if he still had the IQ of an elementary school boy. He also slightly paralyzed his spine, so he had to wear corrective footwear. Finally, his speech slowed down as he forced himself to enunciate each word.
In the end, Forrest wound up exactly like his father. No matter what they did, they ended up at the same point.