Everything You Need to Know About 'Bril'.

 

There was always a fellow who stood by himself at our irregular woodsy gatherings. I was told by a cousin to call him Bril. Whether or not that was his name doesn't make any difference since he died not long ago. When he would arrive at my place for our daily meeting, he had the habit of sitting in a solid chair which had his legend engraved right across one of the iron slats. I would always act like I didn't notice and go out into a nearby hallway. I'd pretend to get a drink of water and then leave for the night. Later on, I would listen in on a gathering of forlorn Chaplains. They had a habit of complaining to no one in particular. Sometimes I'd consider leaving my hiding place for good but usually I'd come away feeling that I was correct in not doing so. Some of them had a wicked temper. Even so, I felt that they respected the course that I'd chosen for my life and that of three of my four children. About the rest, it's quite important not to form an opinion etched in proverbial stone. Why? It could come back to bite you, that's why. But I think you already knew that. It takes one to know one, is all I'm trying to say.

The one and only time Bril left a package in my anteroom, I could have sworn that his hands smelled like mineral wax. Out of the corner of my eye I'd sometimes see him fooling with a small bit of string. I never knew where the string came from or what he was doing with it. One thing I did know though was that throughout the previous Summer, he'd pretend to believe that I only had 'some college' under my belt when the fact was, I had a full Associate's Degree in biological nucleonics. This became a sore point between us. I took to sabotaging his prospects with the County Board. I have to admit this gave me a secret thrill. I'll never understand where his sense of 'inner purpose' came from, if not from his years on the Lutheran Volley Ball circuit. Now that I myself have been released from all waivers, it's apparent that the time has come to put certain things behind me. That with which I choose to do so stands a good chance of occupying more than a little of my remaining time on this planet. I've always had a soft spot for our potential future in Outer Space. In the meantime, I've resolved to do my part to aid in the reconstruction effort. One can only dig so many holes before they long to see the other side. Please don't think this applies to you because that would not be true. Fuck you.

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