1/13/17

Footnote Fiction: The Ugly Truth

Five years ago, I tried to overthrow the government and was arrested. The police said it was because I was revolting. I was given a trial and found guilty, but my lawyer told me not to worry. He said I would be appealing soon.

It didn't work. The judge said he never wanted to see my face again, then he threw the book at me. That really hurt, but it also opened my eyes. It forced me to take a good, hard look at myself. It was then that I realized I couldn't go on like this.

When I got to prison, I sent a letter to the warden describing my problem. He wouldn't even look at it; he said he found my whole case too disgusting. I wrote my lawyer. He said he was appealing, but that in all honesty it didn't look hopeful for me.

I didn't know where to turn. Finally, in desperation, I went to the pastor in my cellblock. He listened attentively and then gave me this advice: "Keep your chin up, try to put your best foot forward, and keep your nose clean." I told him if I could do that I wouldn't have a problem in the first place.

And then I met her — the prison nurse. She looked up from her newspaper, straight into my eyes, and told me it was love. "Love?!" I said, barely able to control myself. "Yes," she said, "17-Down, a four-letter word meaning deep affection." She wrote in the letters. "Now, why such a long face?" she asked.

I managed to regain my composure and told her the truth. "I need your help," I explained. "I was revolting and they arrested me."

"That's horrible!" she said.

"I know how it looks," I said. "All I ask for is a second chance." Seeing how desperate I looked, she decided to help. We talked it over, and she figured if the warden could only see me in a different light, it might chance his view. As it turned out, she was having a candlelight supper with the warden in the staff dining hall that very evening. By using her pull, she got me in the door. Finally, face to face with the warden, although in that light it was kind of hard to tell.

"I've heard that since you've been here in prison, you've kept your nose to the grindstone," he said.

"That's just the way I was born," I replied.

"But if I were to let you go tomorrow, would you still be revolting?" he asked.

"No!" the nurse broke in. "I could get him a job with a doctor I know who could see to it that he wouldn't be."

"In that case," the warden said, "I'll see to your release. Just promise me one thing."

"Anything!" I said, barely able to believe my ears.

"Just promise me I'll never see your face back here again," he said.

I did, and the next day I was let go. Since then, I've gotten a job with that doctor, and in his spare time he's really straightened me out, to the point where I can go out and face people with a new-found confidence that I'm not crooked anymore. I've also had some time to think about what happened to me during those years and have come up with two theories.

The first is that if you're revolting, the only way to keep people from turning their backs on you is to keep them in the dark.

The second is that if you just wait long enough, you'll find someone, somewhere who is willing to look beyond the surface and see you for what you really are.

As to which is right, I don't know. I still can't see straight.


From The Gadzooks Gazette, No. 7, Vertical Edition, 1987