When I woke up, I wasn't sure where I was at first. Then I felt the subtle hum of large engines and remembered the last few images I saw before I blacked out and the word transferred bounced around my head, and I realized I was on a plane, headed to who-knows-where.
I suddenly felt a sense of guilt as I remembered the last thing I did before I was tranqued. I wasn't in my right mind when I destroyed those penguin plushies. I was just angry. It was bad enough that I was kicked out of my first home because of real penguins, but I was kicked out of my second because of flipping fake ones?
Then my guilt subsided a little as I realized I had done nothing wrong. Those stupid penguin plushies had nothing on me. Can they stuff themselves inside a jar? Can they blend into anything? I don't think so. It wasn't fair that even these little concoctions of thread and cotton got more attention than I did. They deserved what I did. All I wanted was a little love.
Was that too much to ask?
— § —
I just had one question. How long is this stupid flight?!
We landed once (I had the bruises to prove it) and someone came to my little temporary tank to feed me, but then they left. The plane took off again. How far away was my next home? Was it even in America?
I hoped they at least spoke English. Took me long enough to learn that language.
I had no idea how long it'd been since I'd left San Diego, but it had to be at least a day or so before we made our second stop, where I was carted off and loaded onto a truck.
Wherever I was, it was hot. Which was odd because the last time I checked, it was still January. I didn't get a good look at my surroundings before being loaded up, but I knew that I could feel the warm air against the glass of my tank, and since the truck I was loaded onto had little to no air conditioning, it was like an oven in there. The temperature of the water in my tank rose considerably during the drive to my new home.
When I was carted out, I had to shield my eyes for a moment as they adjusted. When they did, I looked around for some sort of indication of where I was. The big sign above the gates caught my attention.
Brasil Zoo.
I looked down thoughtfully. I'd only seen a world map a few times in the past, but I'd never really studied it. I knew I remembered seeing the word "Brazil" somewhere on the map, right next to the words . . .
South America.
No, surely I was remembering wrong. I mean, sure, I have an impeccable memory, but there was a first time for everything, right? Suddenly, a mental image of a world map in one of those action movies I saw with the penguins became crisp in my mind. Brazil was right there in South America, right along the east coast. I had no idea what part of Brazil I was in, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was remembering correctly, no matter how much I didn't want to believe it.
The weight of this realization seemed to pull me deeper into my temporary tank, even though that was virtually impossible in this tiny thing. I wasn't just in another country, I was on another continent. Why had they shipped me so far away? Was Brazil in that dire need of an octopus?
Well . . . on second thought, maybe this wasn't such a bad thing. Forget Americans! They're all ignorant, arrogant, and materialistic people. Easily amused. Bored with one thing after another, inevitably moving on to the next big thing. Something newer and cuter. A change of pace is needed before each new moon. The Brazilians I see around here look like decent enough people. They couldn't possibly be worse than those pompous Americans.
Life would be good here. New continent, new country, new life. Now that's how you start over. A complete change in scenery and culture. There was nothing to worry about. Odds were one in a million that I would be ignored and outshined by penguins for the third time. Things were going to work out just fine.
Goodbye, America. Hello, Brazil.
— § —
You have got to be kidding me.
I was convinced by this point that Life was mocking me. It's mocking me, and laughing about it. A big, heavy laugh that reverberates throughout my poor, unfortunate soul, taunting me for eternity.
Okay, so the delivery guy takes me into the zoo, and I'm getting all jazzed up. Yeah! Let's do this! New zoo attraction! New roomy tank, new legion of more appreciative fans!
Then Life says, Haha! You're funny, Dave! That's a good one!
The guy stops off next to this itty bitty tank and signs off the paperwork. I'm thinking, No, really, where's my tank? Sure enough, I saw my name plate underneath that poor excuse for a new home: "Dave: Common Octopus."
But I tried to stay optimistic. Okay, so the tank isn't as roomy as my old ones. No big deal! I can make this work!
The delivery guy grabs me up with a catch pole and inconsiderately tosses me into the tank. I gave him an annoyed stare as if to say, Hey! It's not nice to throw people! I have feelings too, you know! But he either didn't notice or didn't care as he carted the temporary tank out of the way, giving me the first grand view that I would have in my new home.
Out of any habitat I could've been put across from, it just had to be the penguins', didn't it? There's that blasted laughing again. You can shut up, Life! Nobody likes you anyway!
It's still cool, though. Like I said, I can make this work. I mean, with those penguins over there attracting visitors, surely some of them will notice me.
I looked around anxiously, fiddling with a couple of my arms, waiting for someone to come check out the newest addition. After about fifteen minutes, I saw a man and whom I assumed was his son coming toward my tank. I got jittery with excitement as I prepared to entertain them with one of my famous octopus tricks.
Get ready . . . Get ready . . . Whoa, wait, where are they going?
I pressed my face against the glass, looking to the area on my right where the man and child just disappeared. I think there was some sort of door next to me. But what room could it —
A sign caught my eye from above the door protruding from the wall. I frowned.
The bathroom? They put me next to the STINKING BATHROOM?
I grunted in frustration and all my muscles tensed. Then it all drained out of me and I sighed. It couldn't possibly get worse than this.
A moment later, I heard a flush through the wall behind me and I frowned as the water in my habitat drained almost completely out. I grimaced as it slowly started to fill back up.
Dear Life,
Yeah, when I said "it couldn't possibly get worse," I didn't mean that as a challenge.
Your victim, Dave.
— § —
Silence.
A simple, yet empty, word. Empty, but permeating. It becomes quite . . . entrancing. My days have become filled with it. The muffled sounds of the humans sort of blended into the background. The flush of the toilets in the bathroom behind my wall reverberated around my small tank, but quickly became lost and outweighed by the silence in my mind, the silence that's been growing for . . . well, I'm not sure how long I've been here. A week? Two?
Let's see . . . according to the clock on the wall outside, the fifteen minutes of silence have passed and we were well into the half hour of quiet. Then comes the interlude of lull. Next, the period of peace. Then comes the course of calm. And then comes one of my favorite times of day, the phase of stillness.
Silence can actually feel pretty heavy, for an empty word. Sitting there in my tiny tank, I felt like nothing more than the rocks scattered beneath me. There's nothing interesting about a rock. It just sits there, ignored by all. Nobody loves the insignificant lump of worthlessness known as The Rock.
That's me. An irrelevant, meaningless, negligible piece of rock stuck in a small tank. Except, as much as I tried not to, I still had feelings. I couldn't escape them. I feel the emptiness inside me and around me, smothering me.
The emptiness inside stemmed from my loss, which only recently hit me like a ton of bricks. My four little fluffballs. I had no idea what they were doing or if they missed me. What if I was wrong? What if they actually were wondering where I was? What if they hated me too, but because they thought I'd abandoned them? I just wanted to see them again, to tell them I'm sorry. To tell them I forgave them for everything. They were the ones that accepted me, and I shut them out.
Then again, they shut me out first. What was it that Skipper said to me? We don't need a parent, so you can stop acting like one. Just because I cared about them. Then he said I was embarrassing them in front of the humans. Some old, ugly octopus was staining their reputation.
How could they have treated me like that? After everything I'd done for them. Maybe my whacked out hallucination was right. I was just their glorified chauffeur the whole time. I mean, they literally used me to sneak out of the habitat when I wouldn't take them to the city myself. Then they completely ignored me for a week. Why did it matter that I just disappeared one morning without leaving a trace? No more ugly octopus around to cramp their style.
Whatever.
The emptiness around me also stemmed from the simple fact that I was completely alone. What made it worse was the fact that I was surrounded by people. How was it possible to be so alone with so much going on around me?
Because I was invisible.
None of these humans cared about me. They cared about the cute and cuddly waddlers across from me.
Penguins.
It's always penguins. If I could be outshined by anything else, I'd feel a little better. Let some turtles steal the show. Or some baby tiger cubs. Anything but penguins.
What was so special about them, anyways? I know I'm not cute, or fluffy, and I don't waddle around on little webbed feet, but I still have other things going for me. I can fit inside a jar! Can a penguin fit in a jar? No, but I'd bet he'd look adorable trying.
So I was sitting in this tiny tank, watching life happen from the other side of the glass while mine was at a standstill. Watching the humans flock around the penguins' habitat. Watching my reflection in the glass.
A sad, lonely octopus staring back at me. A meaningless, insignificant octopus. Forgotten. Unwanted. Unloved.
Alone.
— § —
Note: There were no quotes in this chapter, but there were three references. One was, "poor, unfortunate soul," a reference to the song "Poor Unfortunate Souls" by Ursula (portrayed by Pat Carroll) in The Little Mermaid (1989); "It's not nice to throw people!" spoken by Anna (portrayed by Kristen Bell) in Frozen (2013). The next was, "fifteen minutes of silence," "a half hour of quiet," and "an interlude of lull," all references to The Soundkeeper in the short story The Phantom Tollbooth (1961) by Norton Juster. The last was a subtle reference to Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson (Nobody loves the insignificant lump of worthlessness known as The Rock.)
Next chapter will be posted on August 9, 2023.
