This morning the little jarred person didn’t exactly wake up, it had been moving about for most of the night with puffy, blackened lids blinking over glossy eyes. Erratic and uncoordinated behavior indicated its state of disorientation, but it was subtle and didn’t initially catch the attention of the free person, who awoke very focused on budging the lid again. An odd voice rose from the jar, “You know your car is running very low on gravy. Ought to have a look at that.” It wasn’t long before the lid was forgotten and all focus was on the strange, rambling creature in the jar.
The day was spent talking circles round and round about hallucinations of birds and machines and all kinds of weird things. The person in the jar slipped farther and farther from reality, “is that my pigeon?” Trying to bring its friend back around to sanity, the free one would answer, “there’s nothing there, it’s just me, remember me?” But, the absurd outbursts gradually turned into aggressive accusations and violent threats, “that’s my pigeon! Let it go! I’ll kill you! I’ll cut your eyes out!” The patience of the free person, who only wanted desperately to help, was being pushed to the limit.
The day was confused mayhem, nothing was accomplished. By nightfall, frustration prevailed and the little free person climbed down from the shelf, looking very solemn and defeated, and walked away without looking back. Our little subject in the jar didn’t even notice and went right on talking and screaming at the side of the jar as if there really was somebody there, and no one had ever walked away at all.