Redundancy
by Michael C. Keith
Genre: Humour
Swearwords: Some mild ones.
Description: Sometimes you hear what you don't want to hear.
_____________________________________________________________________
His words came feebly, from a feeble chest. – William Wordsworth
Jason Selman could pinpoint exactly when it all started––during an argument with his former girlfriend. At first he thought she was just repeating herself for emphasis, so he paid it little attention. But later when things settled down and she apologized for calling him “a selfish bastard”, repeating the phrase again as if perhaps he hadn’t heard it the first time, he called her on it.
“Why did you repeat that? You did it earlier, too,” he asked.
“Repeat what?”
“My being a selfish bastard.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. You said it twice. When we were arguing and just now. You said, ‘You’re a selfish bastard. You’re a selfish bastard.’ Like that.”
“Huh? I did not. I said it once before and just now when I said I was sorry.”
Jason didn’t pursue the issue any further and quickly forgot about it until the same thing happened when he was talking with his sister about their childhood.
“We didn’t get along very well when we were kids. You’d say terrible things to me. You’d say terrible things to me.”
There it is again, thought Jason, giving his sibling a perplexed look.
“Why’d you say that . . . twice?”
“What . . . that you said terrible things to me? That you said terrible things to me? I didn’t say it twice. But you were mean to me . . . you were mean to me.”
“There, you just did it again. And what do you mean I was mean to you?”
“Actually, you were nasty to all of my friends, too. Actually, you were nasty to all of my friends, too.”
“Cut it out. That’s very irritating. You’re taunting me.”
“You just don’t like to hear the truth. You just don’t like to hear the truth . . .”
After that, whenever something uncomplimentary was said to him about his callous behavior, he heard it repeated.
“You’re such an ass! You’re such an ass,” blurted his younger brother when Jason observed that he had become a big disappointment to everyone.
“Damn,” Jason muttered, placing his cupped hands over his ears and then abruptly pulling them away hoping it might dislodge whatever was causing the duplication of the harsh allegations of those with whom he spoke.
“Why do you say such things to me? You’re so cruel. You’re so cruel,” lamented his mother after he remarked that she’d become an old nag.
“You don’t care about people’s feelings. You don’t care about people’s feelings,” snapped a fellow worker after he’d laughed when she told him her beloved parakeet had died.
“You make the most thoughtless remarks. You make the thoughtless remarks,” observed his stepfather when Jason told him he looked fat.
Well, it’s true. You are getting huge, thought Jason. Why’s everybody down on me? And why do they say these rotten things over and over again? Am I really that unlikeable?
It finally reached a point when all Jason could hear were the repeated phrases that derided him. He was unable to hear any other words, although he could see people’s lips moving as if they were speaking.
“What an awful . . . What an awful . . . “
“Such a dumb . . . Such a dumb . . . “
“A real jerk . . . A real jerk . . . “
“Miserable person . . . Miserable person . . . “
“Tactless man . . . Tactless man . . .”
Soon Jason was convinced that his auditory aberrations were punishment for a lifetime of insensitivity, if not outright rudeness, toward others. Your just desserts, pal. You deserved this. Brought it on yourself. Okay, fess up, Jason. Time to make amends.
From that point onward, whenever he was taken to task for his past hurtful statements, he responded by apologizing. At first, he only said this in hopes it would quell the endless criticism he was receiving. But as time went on, he began to actually mean what he was saying. Indeed, he was increasingly remorseful for having been such an unfeeling blockhead all his life.
“I’m sorry,” said Jason, over and over again for what must have been weeks on end.
And then one day, the rebuffs stopped. There were no further condemning remarks about his ill treatment of the people in his life. However, what replaced their repeated denunciations took on another aspect and shook him as deeply.
“It’s too late. We don’t care. It’s too late. We don’t care.”
Swearwords: Some mild ones.
Description: Sometimes you hear what you don't want to hear.
_____________________________________________________________________
His words came feebly, from a feeble chest. – William Wordsworth
Jason Selman could pinpoint exactly when it all started––during an argument with his former girlfriend. At first he thought she was just repeating herself for emphasis, so he paid it little attention. But later when things settled down and she apologized for calling him “a selfish bastard”, repeating the phrase again as if perhaps he hadn’t heard it the first time, he called her on it.
“Why did you repeat that? You did it earlier, too,” he asked.
“Repeat what?”
“My being a selfish bastard.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. You said it twice. When we were arguing and just now. You said, ‘You’re a selfish bastard. You’re a selfish bastard.’ Like that.”
“Huh? I did not. I said it once before and just now when I said I was sorry.”
Jason didn’t pursue the issue any further and quickly forgot about it until the same thing happened when he was talking with his sister about their childhood.
“We didn’t get along very well when we were kids. You’d say terrible things to me. You’d say terrible things to me.”
There it is again, thought Jason, giving his sibling a perplexed look.
“Why’d you say that . . . twice?”
“What . . . that you said terrible things to me? That you said terrible things to me? I didn’t say it twice. But you were mean to me . . . you were mean to me.”
“There, you just did it again. And what do you mean I was mean to you?”
“Actually, you were nasty to all of my friends, too. Actually, you were nasty to all of my friends, too.”
“Cut it out. That’s very irritating. You’re taunting me.”
“You just don’t like to hear the truth. You just don’t like to hear the truth . . .”
After that, whenever something uncomplimentary was said to him about his callous behavior, he heard it repeated.
“You’re such an ass! You’re such an ass,” blurted his younger brother when Jason observed that he had become a big disappointment to everyone.
“Damn,” Jason muttered, placing his cupped hands over his ears and then abruptly pulling them away hoping it might dislodge whatever was causing the duplication of the harsh allegations of those with whom he spoke.
“Why do you say such things to me? You’re so cruel. You’re so cruel,” lamented his mother after he remarked that she’d become an old nag.
“You don’t care about people’s feelings. You don’t care about people’s feelings,” snapped a fellow worker after he’d laughed when she told him her beloved parakeet had died.
“You make the most thoughtless remarks. You make the thoughtless remarks,” observed his stepfather when Jason told him he looked fat.
Well, it’s true. You are getting huge, thought Jason. Why’s everybody down on me? And why do they say these rotten things over and over again? Am I really that unlikeable?
It finally reached a point when all Jason could hear were the repeated phrases that derided him. He was unable to hear any other words, although he could see people’s lips moving as if they were speaking.
“What an awful . . . What an awful . . . “
“Such a dumb . . . Such a dumb . . . “
“A real jerk . . . A real jerk . . . “
“Miserable person . . . Miserable person . . . “
“Tactless man . . . Tactless man . . .”
Soon Jason was convinced that his auditory aberrations were punishment for a lifetime of insensitivity, if not outright rudeness, toward others. Your just desserts, pal. You deserved this. Brought it on yourself. Okay, fess up, Jason. Time to make amends.
From that point onward, whenever he was taken to task for his past hurtful statements, he responded by apologizing. At first, he only said this in hopes it would quell the endless criticism he was receiving. But as time went on, he began to actually mean what he was saying. Indeed, he was increasingly remorseful for having been such an unfeeling blockhead all his life.
“I’m sorry,” said Jason, over and over again for what must have been weeks on end.
And then one day, the rebuffs stopped. There were no further condemning remarks about his ill treatment of the people in his life. However, what replaced their repeated denunciations took on another aspect and shook him as deeply.
“It’s too late. We don’t care. It’s too late. We don’t care.”
About the Author
Originally from Albany, New York, Michael C. Keith has paternal family roots stretching back to Clan Keith of Caithness and Aberdeenshire. A leading scholar in electronic media in the United States, he is the author of over 20 books on electronic media, as well as a memoir and three books of fiction. Much more about Michael and his publications can be found on his website: http://www.michaelckeith.com