The Elephants

© 2002 Neal Acito
All rights reserved.

First, it was the elephants. Then came the pizza parlors. Now it was Scotch. As if the world wasn't tough enough to deal with, there wasn't any Scotch left.

The bartender looked at Jim strangely. Jim had grown accustomed to that look. It hardly fazed him anymore.

"Are you feeling all right, buddy?" the bartender asked.

"Yeah, sure," Jim replied. "Tell you what, just give me something to drink."

"What do you want?"

Jim laughed at the suggestion. What he really wanted was to taste the deep smoky flavor of aged Scotch whisky. If that wasn't to be, it didn't really matter what was being served.

"Surprise me."

"How about a nice cold beer?"

Jim shrugged, "Yeah, great."

The bartender pulled one out of the tap and set it on the bar. Things were quiet. A few patrons in the background sucked down suds with little regard to anyone else. A game show was on the television. There was supposed to be a ball game, a double header. Jim slapped down a few dollars.

"Take whatever you need," he said.

Paul was a regular. He came in and sat next to Jim. Ordinarily, Jim would have shrunk from human interaction. Things were different now. There weren't that many people around to talk with. In the old days, he would shun conversation. Now he embraced it.

"What's it like out?" Jim asked.

"It's getting windy. Might rain later."

The weather.

It wasn't much to talk about, but it was something.

"Yeah," Jim continued. "Maybe it'll rain a little."

"I'll have a beer," Paul told the bartender.

"Sure thing. How about you?"

"Yeah," Jim said quietly. "I'll take another one."

The beers were drawn and placed in front of them. Jim raised his glass in a toast.

"To the end of the world!" he said.

Paul raised his glass as well and then pulled it away.

"What does that mean?"

"Sorry; just a little joke of mine. It's kind of private. Nobody seems to get it."

"It doesn't seem funny."

"It is. Believe me, it is. When something was wrong, it's what people would say to me. A little thing would happen and someone would say 'It's not the end of the world.' But you know what? That's exactly what we're facing here. The end of the world."

Jim took a long, hard gulp of his beer. It wasn't strong enough to wash away his anger and frustration. Scotch would have been better. "Yeah, it's the end of the world. I'm the only one who seems to know it."

Paul looked him up and down. Jim looked harmless enough. He wasn't armed and dangerous. Paul figured it was just the alcohol talking. Guys get like that. They have a little too much to drink and start rambling.

"I wouldn't go that far," Paul said. "Sure, the world is in trouble here and there. All in all, things aren't that bad."

"You think so?"

"Sure. It's the media that hypes this stuff up. All we read is bad news. There's a murder here. There's an earthquake there. After a while, it just gets to you."

Paul was cheerful and optimistic. Jim hated that. It meant that Paul was one of the clueless. He kept hoping to find someone, anyone, who knew what the hell was going on.

"You haven't noticed any changes?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know, things disappearing. One day they're here and then they're gone."

"No, not really."

"I never noticed it either. It crept up on me slowly. I used to write it all off. I thought it was part of getting older. You know? At first, I thought it was one of those turning 40 kind of things. Things that you love dearly start to disappear. The Starlite Diner is gone. It was where we used to hang out as kids. One day, they knocked it down. They put up a strip mall."

Jim knocked back his beer and motioned for another one.

"I miss that diner."

Paul couldn't resist.

"And that's why the world is ending?"

Jim smiled.

"I was just like you. I always thought that the end of the world would come in a big flash. There would be a big mushroom cloud that would fill the sky and we'd be nuked out of existence. I never thought we'd go out like this, a little at a time. It's like we're all just ghosts. You know what a ghost is, right?"

"Of course, I do," Paul said indignantly.

"Sorry." Jim shrugged. "I didn't mean to treat you like an idiot. It's just that nobody seems to understand what I'm talking about lately."

"You're telling me that I'm a ghost?"

"I don't know what we are anymore. What I'm experiencing is otherworldly. We're talking about other dimensions. I'm not sure whether it's specific to me or whether others notice it, too. I sometimes wonder whether I've dreamed everything up or not. I don't know if you're a ghost or not. Then again, you might be. Tomorrow I might walk into this bar and you won't be here. I'll ask about you and nobody will remember you. Your house will be gone. Your bank account will be gone. Your car will be gone. It'll be like you never existed."

Paul laughed.

"Well, if I disappear with all my money and my car, don't tell my wife! Chances are, I'll be in Vegas."

Jim shook his head.

"Yeah, it's funny now. Later on, it's painful. You know what pain is? It's the loss of the things you love. I loved my family so much. It's the ultimate pain to lose that."

"You lost your family? What happened?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you. I don't know where they are. They're gone. They're out there, somewhere."

"So go looking for them," Paul suggested.

"I'd like to. It's a little more complicated than that."

Jim knocked down another one. The bartender was starting to get concerned.

"Hey, buddy, you might want to slow down a little. I don't want to have to cut you off."

"He's got troubles," Paul said. "The world is ending."

"The world is what?"

"The world is ending and we're just a bunch of ghosts."

"Stop messing with me. What are you talking about?"

"It's true," Jim said, gaining momentum. "We're losing ourselves every day. Things have gone missing. I miss staying up late to watch television when I should have been in bed. I miss hot buttered popcorn. Not that microwave crap. It has no taste. I used to love drinking Coke from a bottle...."

Jim trailed off. It was no use. Nobody remembered any of that. It was from a long time ago.

"Yeah, well, anyway. Those are some of those things I miss. You probably don't remember a lot of them. You probably don't even remember going to the circus."

"Don't be stupid, I remember the circus."

"Do you remember the elephants?" Jim asked knowingly.

"The elephants?"

They were staring at him.

"It's the same thing every time. Nobody remembers the elephants. They were big gray animals with long trunks. Their noses were long and they had big feet. Just one of their feet was the size of a telephone pole. Big ears, too. They flapped as they walked. They'd do tricks and beautiful girls in sparkling costumes would ride them. My daughter thought the elephants were the greatest thi...."

Jim caught himself. He grew misty, but he didn't want to lose it entirely. He had already shed so many tears for his daughter. It was getting harder and harder to remember her. All the pictures of her were gone. His wife had taken so many pictures. One day, they had all disappeared.

"You all right?" the bartender asked.

"Yeah, fine," Jim said, choking back tears.

"Maybe you should get some rest or something."

Jim didn't say another word. He simply nodded. He was looking for a kindred spirit, someone who understood what the hell was going on. But he was all alone. Nobody understood. There was no such thing as spaghetti and nobody knew what a bowling alley was. Tomorrow, Jim would wake up and something else would be missing.

He chugged the rest of the beer as if it were his last. He savored every drop. If only he had done the same thing with everything else. If he had paid more attention to things, now he might be able to bring them back through sheer will.

The bar was darker than before. It would probably disappear by morning. It would be a blank lot. Nobody would remember the high-backed bar stools. Nobody would recall the picture of Rocky Marciano hanging on the wall.

He left a few more dollars on the bar and shuffled toward the door. It squeaked and slammed shut behind him.

He stood on the sidewalk outside. Tonight wasn't as crowded as the night before. The streets were empty. The wind picked up and howled. Debris swirled through the abandoned town. Flashes of paper caught the light of the street lamps and then tumbled on.

There was a park across the street. The jungle gym was still there. Jim also saw the park benches. The wind whistled as it swept through the open space. Other than those few stark objects, there was nothing to stop it. It just blew through the park and down the street.

It was September. There were usually leaves on the trees. But as the wind brushed by him again, there wasn't any sound.

"Damn trees are missing," Jim mumbled as he buttoned the top of his overcoat. He shivered a bit as the wind blew across his face.

"I'm gonna miss having trees."

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