[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Another Call for Moderators Edition

Edit: This was a response to prompt from awhile ago, about spending New Years Eve with a roped-up homosexual burglar after losing your job, girlfriend, cat, and best friend. Does anyone remember that one? 
 
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 “ What do you think this is all about? ” I asked the burglar. Randolph was his name. He was tied up in my kitchen. 
 
 He grunted a little. 
 
 “ Ah, yes. Right. My apologies. ” I stooped, and removed the gag from his mouth. 
 
 He exhaled a breath. “ What do you mean? What ’ s what about? ” 
 
 “ You know. What is life about? Is there a best way to live it, what is it, and why should we even try? ” 
 
 After a moment, he said, “ That ’ s a big question. ” 
 
 “ I don ’ t think people spend as much time as they should answering the big questions. ” 
 
 “ Why are you asking me, anyway? ” The burglar ’ s tone was strained. His arms and legs were uncomfortably bound together behind his back, and he struggled to find a good position. 
 
 I sighed. My best friend—the one I would ask the biggest questions of—had been dead since September. I had lost my job the previous week, and just this morning my girlfriend called to tell me that things were over. This burglar was my last friend in this mortal realm. And to think that, mere minutes ago, we hadn ’ t even been friends at all! He had been trying to take my TV! It ’ s a funny old world, isn ’ t it? 
 
 “ Well, ” I told him, “ I ’ ve got nobody left. My friends, my family, my work, and my cat—all gone. ” 
 
 He shifted, and gave a sympathetic sigh. Or perhaps it was out of discomfort. I pulled up a chair and sat down next to him, gazing out the window longingly at the people gathered in Time Square. We remained in silence for a time. 
 
 “ I think that life is largely about one ’ s family. ” I simply placed this thought out into the air; I expected no response. 
 
 The burglar snorted. 
 
 “ You disagree, Randolph? ” 
 
 He shook his head, then contorted his neck to look up at me. “ My family never accepted me…not after they found I was gay. Especially not Gran. Gran resolved never to acknowledge me again. It became clear to the family that they wouldn ’ t be able to invite both her and I to any gathering. Well, Christmas just went by, and…they decided to invite…*her*, rather than *me*. ” 
 
 “ Oh, Randolph, you have my deepest sympathies. ” Silence ensued for a moment or two. “ At least take solace in the fact that this withering, dilapidated, insufferable old bag will soon be dead. She will return to dust, and any mark she made upon this world will, in time, be obscured by the great and unstoppable force of chaos. She will be swallowed up by obscurity and everyone will forget her name—a fate which ultimately awaits us all. ” 
 
 “ Yes, ” he sniffled. “ I do take some solace in that. ” 
 
 “ We must simply hope that the old die soon enough for us to enjoy our own lives. ” 
 
 “ You ’ re right. ” 
 
 “ So are you. Perhaps this really isn ’ t much about family after all. But then what? ” 
 
 This question was not answered. The two of us simply sat in somber silence, watching as the ball dropped and the crowed counted backward from ten. Well, Randolph couldn ’ t see it from his position on the kitchen floor, but *I* watched. 
 
 “ Fancy this, ” I said. “ Me, on New Years Eve, with no one to spend it with other than a roped-up robber. ” I chuckled. “ Do you have any resolutions, Randolph? ” 
 
 “ Any what? ” 
 
 “ New Years resolutions. What do you plan to do differently next year? ” 
 
 He pontificated upon it for a moment, and then smiled ( for the first time ) and replied, “ I am definitely going to rob less people of less stuff. ” 
 
 A tear formed at the corner of my eye at these words. Here, I had only known him for an hour or so, and already I was so very proud of him! What a commendable resolution for him to make. 
 
 “ What a commendable resolution for you to make! ” 
 
 “ Thank you. Do you have any resolution? ” 
 
 I thought for a moment. He really had warmed my heart with his sudden and courageous repentance from crime. 
 
 “ My resolution, Randolph, is to be more forgiving. ” 
 
 At those words, I helped disentangle my new friend from his bindings. I felt we experienced a special connection; as if, from our independent solitudes, we were rescued, drawn by the inexplicable, beautiful twine of fate that winds through all things. It had seen us in our misery, two fragile vessels, carelessly cracked by an inconsiderate world, and it brought us together so that we might shed our mutual weaknesses and see our strengths more sharply than ever, gaining the bravery we needed to stake a claim on this fierce, unloving, tragic, misfortunate, crazy, funny ol ’ world. 
 
 And that is the story of how I lost my television set. 

