I talk to my mother in the kitchen and then walk through the forest. “You’re late,” Tim says. “You’re fired. Please get your stuff out of your cubby and leave.” There are two managers and one is Tim.
I cry two tears and leave.
Tim stares at me. “I’d like to see you again but not here. And stop crying.” Tim is twenty-five, and owns a grease fueled van. He stops by the diner and fills his tank every other day. I cry two tears at him. I walk into the forest and life appears all around me. Four other nature guides are standing around. I have a lot I want to say to them. I feel like asking them questions. Where do they live? What are their houses like?
"Latino Heeeeeeeeeeeat!"
One was Eddie Guerrero former WWE Heavyweight Champion. I had gotten too drunk one night on Bud Light and Eddie walked me home through the trees. He was very nice, but also seemed like if he wanted he could lie, cheat and steal his way into or out of anything he wanted. I put my arm around Eddie’s broad shoulders. I kept telling Eddie that I loved him; I saw him shotgun ten Bud Lights in a row one time and leave the bar with a stripper. “Thank you for that night you drank all those Bud Lights through little holes in the side of the can and then made out with that hot blonde stripper and the Packing Slut,” I said to him. Eddie Guerrero told me his wife left him after that night and wouldn’t talk to him anymore. He said he worked for WWE. He went to Wrestlemania a few times but just recently won the big one. “I am pretty serious,” Eddie Guerrero said. “I get drunk and put myself through wooden tables at random birthday parties with my friends,” I said. I threw up on Eddie’s new Nikes and I kept thinking, ‘Bud Light, Party, Hot Blonde Chicks.’ I was not surprised or afraid just really drunk. Walking home that night I threw up three times. Eddie held me the whole way home. I really liked Eddie. I wanted to be friends with Eddie. I want to be friends with everyone.
Eddie once invited me over to drink beer and watch Monday Night Raw. “We’ll make Tacos.” He laughed when he said Taco. I laughed and had an image of hanging out with other WWE superstars like The Undertaker and Randy Orton and Eddie. I thought about Eddie climbing up one of the trees in the forest and doing a Frog Splash onto some litter. At home that night I really thought about going. I called Eddie’s cell phone for directions and that is when I found out that he had suffered a major heart attack in his hotel room, while brushing his teeth, alone. Eddie Guerrero died.
“Is it busy? Today?” I say. I look at everyone because everyone is my friend and I am not lonely.
“It’s been a pretty decent week,” someone says.
“Remember when kids talked to each other and played board games instead of spending all their time on cell phones or writing in their blogs alone in their rooms. I’m bringing true friendship back.” I say. “Why not? It was cool back in the day.”
When there are no people to guide around the National Park you spend your time working trail maintenance. The idea is for the trails to look appealing so people who spend their days online are more encouraged to leave their houses and explore the land on which they live. If the entire job were to make and maintain trails more people would want to come outside. They would drive their SUVs across the country and scream about their summer vacation. Sometimes there would be strangers meeting in a gift shop. My mother was going to Seattle but got on the wrong plane and is now in New York City. It’s risky to scream in an airport. There was a woman once who screamed a lot in an airport and later she died with handcuffs around her neck. My mother worries a lot but cares about the entire world and that is why she must worry so much, let her into your blog-o-sphere. World. Friend her on myspace.
I cry two tears at no one; at a path diverging in the woods. I feel good for the path. I walk down it. ‘Two-Tears.’ I need to push on. I need to use my body to convey emotions to the world in order to keep us all alive-crying in groups of ten thousand or three; expressing gratitude, concern, or love for people, the weather, the food; and getting anyone to love the world back and respect mother nature. That is what a body is for. One manager isn’t enough so there are two. But there is only one of me. I wish we could all get along. I wish we could all be one. Or each one of us like one million.
I went to an aquarium with a girl once. We saw a shark and ate some pizza. She kept saying she was having a lot of fun and I believed her. “I really want to do this again,” she said at her door. “We will,” I said. “I’ll call you,” she said. I saw her the next night when I decided to leave a stuffed shark toy on her doorstep. And she hugged me really hard. Maybe she was being polite when she stood there telling me that she loved me. Maybe she was actually being sincere. Maybe we all just have to stop being so disconnected. Maybe everyone should tell everyone they love each other. Someone should write that book. ‘Tell the Person Next to You that You Love them.’ I learn so many important things everyday from everyone I meet.
I was walking through the woods and writing an entire novel. My face was full of emotion. I felt productive and loved. My name is Two Tears Boye. I am twenty-two years old, I live in America, and instead of being bored and annoyed I talk out loud to real people that I can touch and look at and I try to build friendships because I hate the internet and I hate computers and I hate the economy and I just want to fly above it all with all of you like something mystic.