"And part of December and the beginning of February."
"Yes, Marvin. They know. The blog has dates on it. But some people will read this months from now and not even notice the gap."
As I was saying, our intention is to add a chapter to Marvin's story once per week. I simply wish to inform our audience that should some natural disaster hit then there is a fair chance that a new chapter will NOT be published in that week.
"Are you really writing that?!"
"I'm just trying to plan ahead."
"For what? An earthquake? A tornado, perhaps?"
"Well, you never know."
"Phil, please, any normal person would think you don't want this job."
"Now Marvin, you know that's not true. After all we've been through."
"Like what? What have we been through?"
"Don't be that way, Marvin. You know full well that our adventures started right after that first breakfast. You.... Um, why are you looking at me like that?"
"Maybe this is the way to begin the new chapter. Just a suggestion."
"Yeah, but this is where I become the omniscient narrator. I'm not sure I'm going to write it very well. Especially as I'm a character in the story."
"Well now that you've explained yourself, I'm sure our readers will understand."
"But Marvin, I'll have to explain it to them."
"Phil."
"Yes?"
"Look at the screen."
"Oh, yes. I had forgotten."
Hello? Still there, dear reader?
Good. Then let's get on with the story.
After I'd washed the dishes and put the kitchen back in order, I took Marvin with me to the supermarket. I didn't have much to pick up, but I thought it might be fun to take him along so he could see some more of the town. He scurried up my arm and sat on my shoulder. I got into the car, and Marvin remained on my shoulder for the duration of the ride. From there it was easier for him to look out the windows and see the sights.
I parked near the door of the store. Walking toward the front door, I scanned the area for a grocery cart. An old man I knew had just finished unloading his groceries into the trunk of his car and was pushing his cart back to the front door. He wore a woven straw fedora with a black band. We nodded to one another, and he handed me the cart. I thanked him with a gesture and he headed back to his car.
Marvin, meanwhile, had spotted the gumball machines at the entrance and launched himself from my shoulder, aiming for the nearest one. He landed softly on the corner of the nearest machine. Pretending to take a special interest in the gumball machine, I leaned toward it - or rather toward Marvin - and spoke to him as quietly as possible so as not to attract any attention.
"Aren't you coming in?" I half whispered. He had started crawling down the side of the globe, admiring the big colored balls as he journeyed down.
"What?" He started toward the little door where the gumballs came out.
"Aren't you coming in the shop with me?" I said, a little louder.
"I'd like to do a little exploring of my own, if you don't mind." Having found the door, he turned to me and smiled shyly. He lifted the door to the gumball chute and disappeared inside.
"It's a big supermarket. There's lots to see. I think you'd enjoy it," I called after him, trying to sound enthusiastic.
"What?" he shouted, though the sound was muted by the metal and glass.
"Please come out," I said. A passing woman looked at me a bit strangely. I fumbled in my pocket, pretending to look for change.
I couldn't see Marvin, which was probably good because the woman had stopped and was staring at me.
"Have you got change for a dollar?" I asked her. She mumbled an apology and walked away. Just what I was hoping for. I looked back at the machine. I still couldn't locate my little eight-legged friend, but he was obviously somewhere deep inside the machine. A few of the gumballs shifted in the globe, and I heard a muffled grunt. "Marvin, I really need to get the shopping done. I'm going to go in without you."
"Go ahead. I'll be fine." He appeared at the glass. "Let me just do things at my own pace."
"OK. But when I've finished the shopping, I'm coming to get you and we're going home. I have some work to do." As I headed into the supermarket, I heard the gumballs rattling slightly.
I followed my usual route through the store: fruits and vegetables, dairy, canned goods, dried goods, cereals, bakery, delicatessen, frozen foods, and finally checkout. The supermarket was full of customers. Half of my shopping experience consisted of actually buying things, while the other half was occupied with saying hello to regular customers I encountered almost every week.
There was a group of Italian immigrants, to which the man in the straw fedora belonged. The members varied from week to week, but a few of them were almost always there. As I shopped, I would turn a corner and there they would be, stopped in some aisle - usually near the vegetables, or the canned tomatoes, or the Barilla or De Cecco pastas - speaking to one another in Italian. I understood nothing, but I always eavesdropped anyway.
I also liked waiting in line, asking for cold cuts or a special cut of chicken or grated cheese. The Italian man had told me once that he always got a Parmesan-Romano mix, which the attendant grated fresh for him every week. I had done the same ever since. And of course it was never hard to strike up a conversation with someone while you were waiting in line. I learned a lot of kitchen tricks and recipe secrets from those people.
Finally, there were the locals I had grown up with - teachers from elementary or junior high school, or adults I had known as classmates - who would or would not say hello when we saw one another. Some of them didn't seem to recognize me, though it's possible they didn't want to. But it never mattered either way. It was just a nice, grounding feeling to know all these people were there, to be depended on from one week to the next, one month after another, like the sun coming up each morning. Maybe that feeling was what I had discovered in Marvin, and the reason I had become close to him to suddenly.
An hour later, my shopping done, I pushed the cart out the door, stopping at the gumball machine where I had left Marvin. I called to him, tapping on the side of the machine as I did.
No answer.
"Marvin? Marvin?" I pressed my face against the glass of each machine, one after the other, tapping, calling out, and eventually shaking each one fiercely.
No reply. No response. No sound.
No Marvin.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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