text: **I dedicate this story to my boy Guilou, a dog that only knows love.** Frank was special, unique and unnoticed. And Spork was it, the only one who witnessed the magic. But all Spork wanted was a scratch he always wanted a scratch. He waited; waited for Frank’s eyes to match his then he’d roll over. Frank hated this, especially when he was onto something and he was on to something tonight. “Well you know how it is, when you smell roses, you love the smell but it’s never permanent. People always dream of being permanent, I just got lucky.. lucky to smell like the roses only I’m much longer lasting. And I guess you could say that maybe winning this medal, it could possibly make me permanent.” Frank said. Frank was pacing erratically back and forth. Spork would watch from the floor, as Frank neared, he’d roll over and move his paws in a downward fashion. Frank usually would pass right by and head the other direction, but every once in a while Spork got lucky. Frank this time was near the kitchen getting ready to sit in a chair for five seconds. And then he was off to the bathroom, to stand in front of the mirror. He was talking to himself. “Being a man who worked his whole life I was lucky I got to bloom. I took an interest in skiing when I was young, very young and dedicated my life to it. It’s humbling to know that my work paid off.” He said while watering his hands and pushing his dirty hair off his forehead. It was unusual that Frank discovered his magic before eating especially on Friday, he usually was worn out. His days were long today no different, but he knew it was a mindset, and a possibility. And today that possibility was a reality. He was in the bathroom for a while, mumbling and when he finally did exit; he did so with the biggest smile. After all he was a successful Olympian gold medalist and right now he was giving his interview. It was a methodical interview, one he considered to be of fine taste, being that it was Valentine’s Day. And of course he was talking to none other than Amy Pogger, a sports reporter. She was blushing and sexually aroused. Spork was now by the front door lying in front of the glass that was on the side. He was on his back moving his paws towards his belly. He had his eyes on the kid outside, and was hoping for a scratch. The kid just so happened to be delivering food, Chinese, but hadn’t made his presence known yet. He was watching Spork, though with great amusement, until of course, he noticed Frank. “Hey honey will you be mine? How about if I win another Gold?” Frank said while pacing at an ever increasing speed. He laughed, made faces and moved about in an unpredictable fashion. He was like a Turkey walking through the forest. The man outside tried to remain discreet, and continue to observe the magic that unfolded. Frank didn’t know it but this was his first spectator. He began dancing, lifting his legs and moving them side to side, swinging his hips. He was spinning in circles and came to a sudden stop; his head was facing the door. He looked at Spork and just like that... the magic was gone. His face was now blank and he was staring right at Spork, then out the window. He couldn’t see well from where he was standing. It was dark outside. After a few seconds he turned and ran into his room. “ Awww Fuck Fuck fuck fuck god damn it, stupid fucking Olympics!” He said while stomping his feet into the ground. Frank was upset and panicked; he knew there was a possibility someone was watching him especially since he ordered food. Frank didn’t have his money ready and was weeping in the corner of his room. He couldn’t remember what he ordered pizza or Chinese. He very rarely remembered anything that was routine, it was more habit necessary for his survival. Frank’s life revolved around routine, routine was his crutch without it Frank was a loss. He was easily distracted. And today he deviated from this routine. His Fridays always started the same way he got up, ate shit, and went to work. It was physical work, work that needed little attention to detail. Then he drove home and ordered pizza or Chinese, depending which he was in the mood for. After that he'd turn on the T.V., smoke a cigar and wait to pay for his food. He always had his cash, in hand straight to the dollar which was one of two numbers $14.50 or $23.47. Once he ate he showered, fantasized about women and would go to sleep. Spork was oblivious to Frank, and hoping a hand would come through the glass and hit his underbelly. He braced himself with excitement as a hand neared the glass above him. “Ding Dong Ding dong” Frank heard the noise and slowly excited his room, and casually walked to the door and answered it. “Hey Boris you're late, you usually get here 10 min earlier.” He was looking at Boris with suspicion. Boris was half grinning trying to keep the whole grin from surfacing. “Hey man nah I was just running late you know how it is, sometimes we're busy.” “Oh” Frank said doubtingly and gave Boris the money, $23.47 to be exact. “Wow thanks man why so much this time, I guess I’ll be late more often.” Boris was smiling; he almost thought and pictured this as Frank maybe bribing him. “Just get outta here alright.” Frank said, grabbing his food. “Don’t worry man I getcha your secret’s safe with me daugg.” Boris said walking away, the door slams. \ That night was long but Frank slept well, Spork slept well too, he had a belly full of rice and toilet water. It wasn’t uncommon for Frank to forget to feed him, but when he did Spork would take matters into his own hands. The next morning Frank woke to his practically empty house. It had one chair, a bed , a dresser a table a T.V. , all the standard appliances and a tipped over trash can. He saw the trash can, looked at it and went to his recliner. Grabbed his computer, lit a cigar and started his day. Spork followed and would lie on the floor next to him. After Frank and Spork were done inhaling the smoke from Frank’s cigar. Frank got to business. He started with the internet and would read the reviews. Any review about anything would work as long as it was considered great. Today he was reading about one of the greatest books of all time. When he was younger he read some supposedly great books, and was disappointed. They were no longer great books. He learned fast however and noted that if the book was to remain great he must not read it, so that is what he did. He did this with anything and everything great. He was a man who loved the mere possibility of something being great. He loved to imagine it, he loved the hype and used these reviews to prepare himself. He was a magician or an artist waiting for inspiration to strike. The book he was reading about happened to be a book about spirituality or enlightenment. And that’s when Frank became the next prophet. He quickly put his computer on the floor and slammed his recliner shut and jumped to his feet. “You fucking aren’t good at anything you’re a gay piece of shit with a flabby ass.” Linda said to Frank. Frank really did have a flabby ass. Linda just so happened to be one of Frank’s characters, part of his imagination, she was fat and nervous. But in this instance she was saying everything to Frank that she was too afraid to say. Frank was open and unintimidating. “That is ok my dear I can be whatever you like me to be.” Frank said composed and calm while turning his left butt cheek. He was smiling and pacing again and almost laughing. “How clever, how clever.” He said to himself. “You think that’ll stop me and everybody else who hates you. You act like your better than us.” There wasn’t an “us” a minute ago, but now there was, a whole army of people. They were all displeased with Frank. “Why cant you see the truth, look to the light my friends, and you too will not be afraid.” Frank said, trying to calm this crowd down. The crowd didn’t care, they tied him up with ropes. And drug him around a campfire. “I love you all, each and every one of you and I too am not displeased.” “If you loved me why am I fat perform a miracle, perform a miracle come on perform a fucking Miracle!!” Linda yelled. Frank loved curse words; he loved them so much, he felt it added something to his thoughts, a flavor maybe, a style. Linda and her posse were furious. They continued to drag Frank around the dirt till he looked like fudge-sickle. Then Linda had the crowd pick Frank up and drop him into the fire pit. Frank was burning and cringing and all dirty. He was covered with soy sauce as he rolled around the trash in the kitchen. He looked up and saw Spork lying next to him on his back and... the magic was gone. “Nope, Spork you sick son of a bitch. Look what you did you made a fucking mess.” Frank had yet to punish Spork for his trash digging and actually hadn’t said a word about it till now. Spork though was carefree as always and got off easy. Frank was looking at Spork and on closer inspection noticed a dried Lo mein noodle stuck to his chest. He reached for it. Spork’s body oozed excitement, he was expecting a scratch. Frank grasped the noodle with the tips of his fingers and peeled it off. Spork's attention shifted to Frank's hand then the noodle, he smelled and tried to eat it. That Saturday was a good Saturday, it was a productive Saturday even if Frank didn’t clean the trash in the kitchen or feed the dog. If it wasn’t a part of his routine it didn’t happen and on Saturdays he didn’t have a routine, except for feeding Spork which usually Spork took into his own hands. However Frank slept with four girls all beautiful, was enlightened, became the president and fixed our government, only caught 2 diseases they were terrible and he was pitied, wrote six award winning books, created the new tastiest restaurant, beat up a few guys he knew for pissing him off, had more money than the pope, killed a rapist, survived in the wilderness for 30 days in the harshest of winters, fought in a war won the medal of honor, taught kids the meaning of life and parented them to be successful, and sat in his chair and enjoyed 3 cigars. He never once scratched Spork. \ Now it was Sunday Frank's worst day of the week. He woke up with a frown knowing that Saturday which had a possibility of being the greatest day ever wasn’t and therefore it was disappointing. And of course work was around the corner. He would refuse to get outta bed, in retaliation but always after an hour or two he’d get up. Spork would too. Frank would begin his day with Routine, which already made this day not the greatest day ever. He’d start by cleaning the trash. Then not forgetting the humiliation he faced on Friday. He grabbed a blanket and created a crude blind for the glass on the side of the front door. He did so by taping the blanket to the wall with some duct tape. “I hate you Spork your fucking worthless.” Frank said. When Frank talked Spork would get excited and roll over. It was still early so Frank had yet to concentrate on his upcoming work, but when he did it was not unexpected that he’d have a meltdown. His Sundays sometimes were like that, especially when he couldn’t accurately predict what would happen on Monday. Once he finished the two chores Frank sat down in his recliner, lit a cigar and turned on the T.V. He saw an ad that showed a man in poor health all due to cigarettes, so he thought to as why he smoked in the first place. And came to the conclusion it was because of peer pressure and not being in control. He saw guys at work do it, they said it was good for stress. And that’s when it hit his magic. He quickly stood once again this time uneasy. “Hey Frank, how was your weekend man?” “Well Joey my weekend was fabulous I... I ...... I god dammit no no no fuck you fuck you Joey go touch yourself!” Frank yelled. Frank was upset. He was combining his magic with his routine or rather the routine he’d face in the future. He did this from time to time and he knew it was taboo and yet still a possibility. Frank was a control freak. His magic was special and worked because he controlled the outcome but today he mixed it with an unpredictable outcome, a mere possibility. “So you mean again you’ve done nothing you’re a loser boy.” Joey said. Joey was the new guy at work who always asked Frank if he had a good weekend. They worked the assembly lines together bolting wheels onto cars. Frank hated Joey but Frank hated a lot of things. And Joey would always ask Frank these questions in front of everyone else. “Joey you’re a fucking variable a fucking variable but today im ma... gonna come up with something great I did this weekend youll see.” He thought for a second and for another, hours passed. He was angry and wanted to say he did things around the house. But he said that last week. “Why can’t he just leave me alone?” He was crying, and on the floor in the fetal position. He’d been there for a while trying to sleep the day away. He rolled over and felt a lick on his nose. Spork was lying there on his back with his face next to Franks. Frank opened his eyes and just like that.... the magic was gone.