Mr. Talkedy Returns

I woke up with a cold today. Maybe this could have been avoided if I had been taking my daily multivitamin instead of whipping them at cars that drove past my window on Bay State Road. But we all get lonely sometimes.

Then I lost my voice.

Losing one’s voice is like being transformed into a tapir. You can no longer speak to people, they gape at you like you’re in a zoo, and for some reason your nose grows longer and you’re using it to eat. Seriously, you know it’s true.

I always took speech for granted. Not once did I realize how vital it was until I lost it and was completely cut off from the world. When I did try to speak, my voice sounded like a cross between a respirator and a Nickelback CD. Needless to say, it took some strong persuasion to start breathing again.

Since I was unable to do much else, I began to reflect back on other times I was without language. Of course as an infant I couldn’t talk. But, then again, I couldn’t control my bowels either so I wasn’t really winning ribbons anywhere.

The most memorable time I lost my voice was in the 4^th grade. It was the first day of our creative writing unit. I don’t really remember what I wrote, probably some stupid mystery/thriller about coral reefs. The Catholic Church was probably involved somehow, trying to cover up that Jesus went wakeboarding there with Mary Magdalene. Even at such a young age, American writers were trying to be Dan Brown.

My friend Bryan was much more aware of his surroundings. He used my voiceless condition to inspire his story. In it, there was a man named Mr. Bogedy who would steal people’s voice boxes in order to talk nonsense with their voices. The main character, Bobby, had a voice box named Mr. Talkedy that was stolen, fought back, defeated Mr. Bogedy, and freed all the abducted organs of speech.

I wanted to go out and see if anybody would write any stories about me this time. But first I needed to buy some Bic pens. After hitting up the bookstore, I headed down to the Commons to people listen.

“I love Dashboard Confessional!”
“…so I said to him, ‘You can’t suggest that I have some ice cream. That’s saying I’m fat, which is harassment.’ And he said…”
“Yo, dude, you want to make some S’mores? Shit, G, I could really go for one right now. Will the man let us build a fire right here?”
“I love you more than words can express. You are my one and only forever more. Will you go to Prom with me?”
“Yo quiero comer tus gatos.”
“Isn’t this skirt just perfect? I was going to donate the last $100 daddy gave me to Hurricane Katrina relief but then I saw this little baby for only 80 dollars and couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass. I mean, hurricanes happen every year…”

I couldn’t take it any longer. All these people were blessed with the power of speech, a blessing I had been temporarily deprived of, and they were wasting it, wasting the gift. Any one of them could have used the vernacular in a remarkable way, to say something truly insightful and laced with beauty, but all that came out was nonsense. Mr. Bogedy had returned and multiplied.

This overwhelmed me and I started running away as fast as I could. I wanted to be back in my room where I could hide my mute body under a blanket and shut out this ranting world of irrelevance.

But when I got back to my dorm I met with a new obstacle. Boston University with its ever evolving quest to make life difficult had upgraded its cock blocking dorm security once again. Now voice recognition was required for entry into its residences. I walked away without trying.

Spending a night outside was not going to damper my spirits any further. I walked over to the highway underpass to stake out my claim. It was still light out but I didn’t care. The sooner I fell asleep, the sooner this would all be put on pause. I drifted off in no time.

I awoke in the arms of my new friend Greasy Jeremiah and thought, “What time is it?” But I didn’t just think it; I spoke it. Mr. Talkedy had returned. With whoops of elation regarding my reintroduction to audible life, I galloped back to my dorm and triumphantly shouted my name into the security speaker.

I felt so unbelievably happy while I flew up the stairs to my room. Right then and there, I made myself a promise that along with Mr. Talkedy I would rid the world of Mr. Bogedys by always speaking and writing with passion and eloquence. Now if thou wouldst excuse me, I find myself in dire need of some multivitamins.

*published in The Daily Free Press on Friday, October 7th, 2005*