Silent but Dead Lee

Prior to waking that fateful morning Lee had been an exemplary model of an ordinary person. Like each of us he found great pleasure in every particularity of life, like washing his hair and creating castles out of playing cards. Yet, Lee awoke to find himself in an immensely deplorable situation. As he stood in front of his bathroom mirror the reflection begotten presented a dire and disturbing image. Lee rubbed his sleep-ridden eyes in a vain attempt to change his vision. Still it stayed, remaining but a horrendous beacon of what he had become.

“How could this be,” Lee anxiously thought to himself. “I’m hideous – truly a monster. I have become...I have become a mime!”

An achy-breaky panic suddenly swamped Lee’s body as he tried to scrub clean his face. This proved little doing, however. The harder he washed, the whiter his face would become. Terror-stricken, he attempted to scream, but no noise came forth. He could not even provoke a yelp or a whimper. If he were going to solicit the aide of someone, he would have to do so out on the streets.

Lee’s heart pounded preposterously as he sauntered about the sidewalk begging for assistance. His pleads, though, remained unheeded. Most people would just point and laugh.

“Look at the stupid mime,” some would say.

“Boy, mimes sure are stupid,” others would remark.

Still, this did not thwart Lee’s persistence. He even placed his hands outward to give the appearance he was trapped inside an invisible box. Surely, this would clue someone into realizing he was actually trapped inside the body of a mime. Then came a call, harrowing and obtrusive.

“I hate mimes,” said a burly man from a short distance, “I’ll break him!”

But before he could move forth another gentleman to his left grabbed his arm and said, “Wait! Breaking a mime is seven years bad luck.”

“Naw,” retorted the burly man, “you’re thinking a mirror.”

“Oh...right...well then carry on.”

Soon Lee felt was his body hit the pavement as he succumbed to a powerful barrage of fists. There was little he could do than to pantomime punches. Needless to say, the fight was one-sided.

And as Lee lay dying on the side of the street, his pale face colored red with his own bloody blood, he could hear passerby stop and shout.

“Look at the stupid mime pretending to die. He sure seems committed”

“Great,” Lee cynically thought, “I was born a baby and I will die a mime – two pusillanimous bookends to an otherwise plucky life.”

With that Lee expired.