It was almost as if someone—some omniscient being of incredible power and authority—was putting the words directly into his head, and all he had to do was open his mouth. A sudden thought struck Craig: So far none of this had seemed too far out of the ordinary, which was odd because by any rational reckoning it should seem very strange indeed. Craig decided to just roll with it. “What do you mean whatever world I come from?” Seamus stuck the pipe back in his mouth sharply. Craig could almost see the numbers going backwards from ten inside the gnome’s little head. After what seemed like hours, Seamus exhaled a billowing cloud of smoke. “Anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?” “I am a lawyer,” Craig said sheepishly. “That explains it, then. Look, we don’t really have time to get into the whole Multi-Dimensional Entity Existence thing. Right now my job is to find out how you got here. Tell me everything that you remember.” Craig felt nervous. For the first time in his life, he was unsure of what to say. He decided it was best to start at the beginning and see where that led. “Well, uhh... My name’s Craig, as you know. Um, how did you know that, by the way?” “That’s not important right now. Get on with it,” snapped Seamus. “For being a cute, plump gnome you’re kind of nasty.” “Fucking get on with it!” Craig cleared his throat. “I’m 28, and I graduated from Princeton Law in ‘83. I recently made partner at a very prestigious law firm in New York City and work closely with the investment banking firm Pierce & Pierce. One of my primary clients at the firm is a man named Bateman. He’s an odd guy, but I’m paid well for my services. I’m on my way to becoming a wealthy man.” He paused to take a breath and scratch an itch under his helmet. Seamus puffed on his pipe and nodded for Craig to continue.
“I’ve been working for the firm for just over a year, and my girlfriend and I recently moved into a nice penthouse apartment on the Upper East Side. Her family is from the Garment District just off Fifth Ave. I was at the office late last night, trying to talk Mr. Bateman out of hysterics. He thought he was a serial killer or something. I told him to lay off the cocaine and get some sleep. I packed up my briefcase and went home. Macy was going to be leaving the studio around nine—she’s a fashion designer. I was going to propose to her that night. Everything was ready when she got home: the china, the candles, the redcheckered tablecloth. I even had time to slip into something more comfortable, if you know what I mean.” The gnome rolled his eyes. Craig could feel a veil lifting from his memory as he talked. It was almost as if someone—some omniscient being of incredible power and authority—was putting the words directly into his head, and all he had to do was open his mouth. “I love her more than anything.” He was speaking faster now. “She’s kind, funny, and smart.” He paused. “I was positive that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. There were still questions. You know, cold feet kind of questions. As I sat there waiting for her, I went over them again. What if she says no? What if she loves someone else? What if she is secretly psychotic? What if she has a hot sister? Would they be into that sort of thing? Am I doing the right thing? Does she torture small animals? Will she eat olive loaf ?” Craig loved olive loaf. “She walked through the door at 9:30 and was completely surprised by the romantic dinner I had prepared. She sat down, and her face—her face was absolutely radiant. I stared deep into her eyes.” Craig smiled and corrected himself. “Her one eye actually, she lost the other one playing lawn darts.” He sighed. “The candlelight shone off her freshly waxed scalp. God, she was so beautiful. I reached over and took her prosthetic hand.” Seamus looked a little pale. “‘Macy, I love you….’ I said. ‘Will you...’ and then I had to stop. There was a strange music coming from somewhere. Violins or something. I hadn’t turned the tape player on. I tried to ignore it. Said, ‘Macy, sweetheart…will you be my…’ then I had to stop again. I couldn’t concentrate; all I could hear was the music. It was building. Getting louder, straining to reach the crescendo. ‘Do you hear that?’ I asked her. She shook her head and smiled, and her dentures fell out onto the table. I carefully—lovingly—put the teeth back in her mouth. The music was getting louder. Something weird was happening. Something was moving inside me. It was pushing at my ribcage, trying desperately to get out. I thought it was my heart, so full of love.” He paused to wipe away a tear. “I said, ‘Macy, I love you….the music, I love the music!’ The beautiful song
“For being a cute, plump gnome, you’re kind of nasty.”
73