Brian's Brain

Brian thought back on his day as he walked down his quiet suburban street, the autumn leaves had just began to fall and made a satisfying crunching noise under his new white sneakers. Coming up to his driveway Brian began to laugh out loud a little, thinking back on how just a few hours earlier he had stuffed the much smaller, nerdy looking Jimmy Parks into a janitor’s closet at their middle school, even going so far as to remove the closet’s single light bulb, leaving the younger boy locked in complete darkness. Brian was enjoying this thought so much that he almost didn’t hear his name being shouted at him, turning around he looked for the source of the call but saw no one. About to continue walking up his driveway he suddenly heard it again “Brian!”, still there was no one in sight. Coming to the conclusion that some kids must be playing a trick on him and hiding in the bushes across the street Brian strode confidently toward the small, tangled mess of foliage in front of his neighbor’s yard. “Whoever is in there better come out right now unless you…” but Brian’s threat was interrupted by a sudden pain on the side of his head and then darkness.

Brian awoke slowly, forcing his eyes open even through the dull throbbing in his head. “What the…?” he began to say as the small, round, four-eyed face of Jimmy Parks came into focus in front of him, followed by the smaller boy’s little fist delivering a surprisingly hefty punch directly to Brian’s nose. Grunting in pain Brian instinctually tried to lunge at the boy but found himself bound tightly to a chair with what felt like more than one roll of heavy, industrial grade packing tape. “That’s enough now Jimmy…” came a deep masculine voice from behind Brian. Squinting through the tears that had filled his eyes after the blow to his nose Brian saw a large figure circle around his chair and squat down in front of him. The face was the spitting image of Jimmy Park’s, glasses and all but older and wrinkled slightly. “Hi there Brian, I’m Robert, Jimmy’s dad, I’ve heard you’ve been causing some problems for my boy at school…” Beginning to realize the graveness of his situation Brian began stuttering an apology “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean it…” but was quickly interrupted by Mr. Parks “No need to apologize Brian, it’s not your fault, it’s just the way your brain works, you see son, I am… Well, at least I used to be a neurologist; do you know what that means Brian?” Brian nodded slowly in acknowledgement. “Ah, smart as well I see!” Robert Parks exclaimed, “We’ll try not to damage that during the procedure but the Brain is very sensitive so you never know…”. “Procedure…?” Brian asked but the only answer he received was a low laugh…

Robert Parks rolled a small metal table over next to Brian’s chair and sat himself down. Looking down at the strange array of instruments on the table Brian saw a few needles, some gauze and finally, resting right in the middle of the table, one long sharp looking metal lance. At the sight of this last tool Brian began to scream uncontrollably at the top of his lungs. “Well we just can’t have that” Robert stated, quickly putting a few layers of tape over Brian’s mouth, reducing his screaming to nothing but a low rumble. “Well, I think it’s time we begin, don’t you Jimmy?” Robert said, turning to his son. A huge giddy smile came over the young boy’s face and he began jumping up and down as Brian looked on helplessly, “Can I do it this time daddy?! You said I could! Please!” Jimmy screamed with delight. With a long sigh Robert Parks pushed the small table over to his son, “Fine. Just this once Jimmy, and just like daddy taught you all right?” Robert instructed. Without another word Jimmy picked up the large metal skewer and slowly walked over to Brian. Brian watched helplessly as Jimmy moved the huge sharpened piece of metal closer and closer to his left eye, the last thing he heard was a small giggle from Jimmy and four words “Who’s the bully now?” and then Jimmy plunged the lance into Brian’s eye socket and up, deep into his brain.

Brian was found two days later, by a young woman from the neighborhood out for a morning jog. According to the day’s newspaper he was covered in dirt and had a small scar above his left eye but aside from that looked completely normal although the only thing he seemed to be able to say was his name. After taking him to multiple doctors and receiving no confirmed diagnosis Brian’s parent’s ended up sending him to a special school where his needs could be taken care of. From then on, and for the rest of Brian’s uneventful life, they received glowing reports from his teachers on how “polite” and well behaved their son was.