The Metamorphosis - Remorphed

I awoke, well rested, after a long glorious night’s sleep full of beautiful dreams. You see I was flying through a gorgeous glowing pink sky full of clouds with no destination. Or was it blue? Whatever color it happened to be, it was like nothing I had ever seen before. I was free. Free from want, free from the past. And for whatever reason I got the impression that I was hungry but I was about to eat a big breakfast, oh yeah, and I was also pretty sure that I had just fallen in love.

As my consciousness slowly poured back into my brain, hatred filled my aching heart. WHY!? Why was I tempted so, with this imbecilic idea of what existence could be. How could my subconscious play such a cruel trick on little old Gregor. Now I had experienced flying. I never even knew that I wanted to fly in the first place until I had this sudden dream which I had not planned or prepared for. Worse than that, before I could really even enjoy myself, before I was even aware that I was flying, it was gone. That peculiar pigment in the sky, a mere figment of the past.

I lay heavy in my itchy bed, overtly aware of the Earth's gravity pressing me into my mattress. What cruel fate is this? To learn to fly only to immediately forget how. Well, I didn’t have time to ruminate over such trivial matters, it was time to go to work. I did my best to sit up in bed but I couldn’t budge an inch. Both of my sides ached, my right arm felt bound by rope to my right ankle, my left side was the same and I couldn’t turn my head in either direction. That’s when I realized I was sick. Completely and terribly sick. I couldn’t even manage to lift my own comforter off of my chest, which had somehow become heavier than anything I had ever lifted before. Trust me, I know a thing or two about lifting things. I was a traveling salesman, responsible for the kitchen appliances division of my firm, Dunder and Dunder, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t second guess my instincts about lifting objects and knowing their respective weights.

What kind of man is so weak that he can’t even lift his own comforter? If I couldn’t lift my comforter I couldn’t go to work, I couldn’t pay down my debts, and my whole family was going to starve and then eventually die in obscurity. You see, my family depends on me, I’m the, how do you say, breadwinner of the house, though that's a rather generous way of putting it. I could be better imagined as a man with a bucket and pail, standing under restaurant tables, diving for crumbs as they tumbled off of the plates above me. And I did so in the form of selling ovens and blenders and the like, which ironically made said dishes.

That’s me Gregor Samsa. I'm a salesman, that’s how people think of little old Gregor. My identity starts with the word “Sales.” And “Man” is only tacked onto the end of my title as if it is some sort of afterthought. And hey, I know, this might not seem so important in the scheme of the interwoven web of human existence but it was important to me, it was important to the people who depended on me and it was even more important to their appetites. But how the hell am I going to get the newest confectionery ovens into our needy consumers’ kitchens if I can’t even lift this damn dirty duvet off my chest.

The pitter patter at my windowsill reminded me of the rain. It had rained the last fortnight or so and it must have continued raining through the entire night because the rhythm with which the drops landed on the glass was eerily familiar. Yes, of course, it was the same rhythm that my wings fluttered to in my dream, which was becoming more and more distant. I’d probably forget I even had the dream by the time I was finished with my tuna fish sandwich at lunchtime, which was only 20 minutes at my desk from 12:40 to 1:00 on non traveling days, if you can believe that.

If I wasn’t so restricted by my illness, I would have jumped when I heard him bang on my door. “Gregor! You’re late for work.” It was my father, his booming voice bellowed from his belly as he shook the entire house yelling for me. What time was it anyway? I couldn’t turn my head to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Gregor!” He yelled again, but I didn’t have the strength to speak back, yet alone to yell. I was never able to yell like my father could. It was one the many talents the men from his generation possessed that had been long lost to mine. “Gregor! It’s 7:45.”

Though I was void of strength, I was full of adrenaline. I was meant to be at the office by 6:00 in order to ready the packages and paperwork so that I could catch the 7:00 train. It was a traveling day and it wouldn’t be long until my boss was here asking after me. This would constitute an entire new array of problems in itself. I did my best to keep my family from the truth about my work life. I was, despite my superhuman efforts to produce, a fairly unskilled worker. Is there anything more shameful than to be bad at making money? I constantly passed on fake compliments ascribed from my boss to me so that my family would be proud. “Good job Greg, those microwaves practically sell themselves! You’re in for a raise soon.” How hollow my stories would sound upon meeting Mr. Miller, that snide, patronizing creature. I couldn’t allow him to be in the same room as my parents. But how could I prevent him from coming if I couldn’t get out of bed?

“Arrrggghhhhhh” was the only minute sound I could muster. I managed to lift my head a mere inch off of the pillow but the overwhelming weight of the comforter pulled me back down. I could hear my father on the other side of the door twisting and turning at its locked knob to no avail. My psychological suffering grew rapidly with each moment that escaped me. Who would've thought this would be the morning that my life would be ruined, on account of not being able to get out of bed.

Sweat streamed down the side of my face as a result of my efforts to sit up and I felt like I was about to tear one of my arms out of its sockets when my ears were met with the sound of another knock. “What did I tell you, Gregor! Your boss is here, you lazy scum.”

My mom chimed in, ostensibly standing next to my father on the other side of the door “Be easy on him honey, there must be a logical explanation for all of this. He’s never missed work before after all. He must be ill, yes ill, my poor darling.”

“Hey Gregy” Mr. Miller rapped on the door with his fingertips “You in there bud? It’s me Mr. Miller. We’re all real worried about ya pal. Everything alright?”

Again I couldn’t bring myself to speak, at the most I could manage to sigh silently. “Gregy boy it’s me, open up.” I could hear him chuckling to himself. The sick sadistic bastard. He wanted nothing more than to fire me and he and I both knew it. He needed a scapegoat every so often with which to abdicate his own responsibilities and push blame down the ladder so that his boss wouldn’t catch onto him, and I had not yet given him reason enough to terminate me for his own preservation, until now.

“Ehhh what can we do.” I heard him sigh. His voice was a masquerade, disguising his hope to look like disappointment, though the veil was thin. “Well give me a call when you’re feeling better bud, and we’ll talk then.”

“No please.” My father called after him “We can sort this out.”

“We can’t even get him out of the room.” he laughed.

“Please sir” my mom was now begging, I wonder how many times she had begged on my behalf “Please he’s a good boy, there must be something wrong.”

“Look I’ve gotta go, this has caused a big slip in productivity as it is.”

“Wait! I’ll break the door down. We’ll get him out here this instant.”

Mr. Miller and my mother both knew better than to reason with my father in this masculine, manic state that had overtaken him. I heard them all three walk away from the door. I tried one last time to stand but it was no use. I was no longer a man fit to stand, no longer a man at all. Then he came roaring forward with a huge thud and tumbled through the wooden door, which cracked in two and crashed all around him.

Light filled the dirty brown room as dusty particles floated through the air. I watched as my father stood up and rubbed his shoulder. “Honey, are you okay?” as she and Mr. Miller creeped into the room after him.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” and the three of them turned their attention towards me, standing in a row at the foot of my bed. My mother looked mesmerized, my father disappointed, Mr. Miller pleased.

“Well look at that!” Mr. Miller squealed with the utmost joy “He’s turned into some sort of insect, there’s no way he can carry packages now.”

My father frantically panned back and forth between Mr. Miller and I “Please Mr. Miller, he can still carry packages. Can’t you boy?” and he pulled back the covers. I wanted to escape so badly that I felt as if I had floated up into the air above them. No, I actually had. I was up on the ceiling looking down at them in real time. My mother gasped. Mr. Miller laughed and then said “I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do Mr. Samsa, we don’t employ insects at Dunder and Dunder, it’s a respectable firm after all.” He reached out his hand for my father to shake and after my father begrudgingly complied, Mr. Miller practically skipped out of the room.

II

I was crawling on the ceiling of my dusty brown bedroom. All of the blood was rushing to my head, but I felt mostly okay. My parents still stood at the foot of my bed staring at me. I had never really been sick, it was just that damn comforter on top of me, crushing me. I was never meant to be under a bed comforter anyway. My fathers eyes followed me around the ceiling as he said “I’m so disappointed in you son.”

“But it’s not my fault!” I eeked out. It seemed I could talk again. It must have been the weight of the comforter that had been obstructing my ability to speak. “Not your fault!? It finally speaks and that’s what it says?” He threw his arms up in the air over his head “Of course it’s your fault. Who just wakes up one morning and decides to be an insect!”

“I didn’t decide anything dad. I didn’t choose this.”

My mother tugged on my dads shirt “Honey be easy.” I could see it on her face. Her brows turned upwards, causing her forehead to wrinkle. Even she had become embarrassed to beg on my behalf, she, who had done nothing other than beg for me for my whole life.

“Leave us.” my father commanded without looking at her.

“Honey.”

“Leave us!!” And she did.

Once she was gone he sat on the edge of my bed, looked down at the floor and sighed. “Look boy, you think I don’t have mornings where I want to be an insect too?”

“I didn’t choose this. I already told you.”

He looked back at me and smiled “Yeah… sure you didn’t.”

“I didn’t!” though I couldn’t really yell as I mentioned, so it was more of a shriek.

“Of course you did you fucking fool. We all choose everything, we all have choices to make all day everyday. And you’ve chosen to abandon this family just as we need your salary the most.”

“Dad.”

“I’m not your father any more! You’re a bug remember, some stupid low life bug, without a job. And to think, you used to work at Dunder and Dunder.”

“How can I make you believe me? This was all a big accident.”

He looked up at me and smiled for one last time before it drained from his face. He jumped onto the bed with such rapidity that I hardly saw it coming. He leaped towards me with his big meaty fist as he attempted to smash me into the ceiling. Of course, with my newfound reflexes, I dodged him with ease. Though I think he knew he wouldn’t get me, he just wanted to pass on the sentiment. He landed on the floor with a thud, walked towards the door and never looked back.

III

Now that I had a moment alone I was finally able to think. With all of the emotional backlash and turmoil this morning I hardly had a chance to think through any of the logistical problems that would accompany this. First and most obvious, what was my family going to do for money? Second, would I only live for a mere day or two? How long is the life expectancy of bugs like me? Third, what was I supposed to eat? Where would I go to the bathroom? Would I still enjoy music? Oh no. I had a dentist appointment tomorrow? What should I tell the dentist?

Tears streamed down my face. So much was changing and so fast. I never realized my life was going to change at all and of course it had always been changing but I never imagined it would change like this. My thoughts became shaky as I realized I was trembling. Who was I if not a man who had things to sell? Who was I without a family to support, and without a way to support them.

My rumination was interrupted by my mother who had creeped in through the door. She stared up at me with big dilated pupils as she held something behind her back. “Gregor. Don’t worry about your father. You know how he can be.” I just sighed in response. I didn’t know what to say, it seemed as if I didn’t know anything anymore.

“Gregor, your father and I have cut a deal.” she said, her voice cracking. “If you get in this, um, jar.” and she pulled her hands in front of her and held out a mason jar. “You can continue to live in the house.”

“What?”

“Listen. It’s not so bad, I’ll take good care of you, I’m gonna keep you under the bed, I’ll feed you, and I’ll sing you sweet songs.”

“Mom! A jar under your bed? What kind of life is that for someone?”

“It’s the only life you can hope for now, I’m afraid.”

“I’m not getting in the jar.”

She dropped down to her knees and bowed her head. “Please honey. What if something happens to you? Look how fragile you are, you could be blown away by the wind or smashed to bits any moment. If you get in the jar you’ll be safe. I promise to look at you and sing you sweet songs as often as I can.”

I knew she was just trying to help but she was making things worse. She was so worried, that her forehead was growing a new wrinkle each moment, but how could I reassure her? I couldn’t control what I had become, I couldn’t get in a jar just to make her happy, though I must admit life in the jar somewhat tempted me. I would have no responsibility and I would be able to live in leisure for the rest of my days. However short they may be. She got back to her feet and held the jar in the air above her head “Please honey. How else is your mother going to sleep?”

I crawled towards her but remained out of reach. Maybe I was being naive. A jar was probably the best answer to this question. Mother always knows best. I took another step towards her and just as I was thinking about dropping from the ceiling into the jar, I saw a shadow by the door. My sister was standing there, not 13 years old, peering at me from the neck of the frame.

My mother peered back at her, panic spread across her face “No, don’t pay her any attention Gregor. No.” Yelling at me like a dog.

My sister’s mouth was wide open, but her eyes were smiling at me. “Wow Greg! What happened to you? You’re gorgeous?”

Gorgeous? What did she mean gorgeous? I was an insect. I could feel it on my skin, I was sitting on the ceiling. Was she loopy or something? My mom jumped up and tried to grab me with the jar but I flinched away. When she saw that she had missed me with the jar she cried out “Nooo.” and tears streamed down from her face as she ran out of the room.

IV

My sister, Grete, slowly creeped into the room. “Greg? Is that really still you?”

“Yeah. It’s me.”

“How did this happen?”

“I just woke up like this honestly. It wasn’t my choice.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but no one seems to want to believe me.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.” her head turned to the side, like a confused dog might, as she gazed up at me.

“You’re so lucky.”

“Lucky? Yeah hardly. I lost my job, dad tried to smash me, mom tried to put me into a jar.”

Her eyes lit up, some sort of important realization danced across her face. Her eyes scanned the entire room looking for something. “Oh my god Greg.” and she ran out of the room.

Moments later she was back with something in her hand, hopefully not another jar but I had learned to expect the worst from people this morning. She held out a small vanity mirror and pointed it at me. “You haven’t seen yourself have you?” But as soon as she said this and held up the mirror I had seen myself.

My wings were vast, they ran up the whole length of the sides of my body. Both of them had beautiful patterns of white and black sprinkled around the edges, and stripes running across them. And then there was my face, my beautiful cherubic face, graced with two strong antennae sitting upon it. I don’t know why I had assumed the worst, I thought I would be a fly or even a beetle but I never would have expected this. My reflection in the mirror spoke back to me as I said aloud “I’m a butterfly.”

“You are, Greg. You really are.” she sang back, so happy for me. And I was happy too. How had I not realized what I had become. It was a blessing not a curse.

“Gregor, you've gotta get out of here. Take to the sky and fly away.”

“But Grete, will you all be okay without me?”

“Yes of course we will. Just go Gregor. Fly into the sky, before dad comes back with a net or a swatter.”

“Grete… Thank you.. I’ll miss you terribly.”

She ran over to the window and undid the latch, pulling it open. My parents appeared in the doorway, staring me up and down with their greedy eyes. At the same time they ran for me, but I was too fast. My fathers meaty fists couldn’t crush me, my mothers gentle jar couldn’t contain me, I was out of that house. “Good luck!” I heard my sister yell after me but my father drowned it out with “Gregor! You scum!”

V

I don’t know what I had expected but as soon as I went through the window I was blown off course by a gust of wind. The sky was full of dark grey clouds and the sun was going down. I jumped when I heard the thunder crash off into the distance and I took cover in the branches of a tree in the yard.

It started to rain again, how had I forgotten it was raining outside? This was not what I had been expecting at all. And then I heard a branch break behind me. I turned just a little and saw two giant eyes staring down at me, it was a raven eyeing me impetuously. It lunged for me with its beak but I fluttered out of the way, going through narrowing openings that it couldn’t fit through, weaving in and around branches. And at last I found a small hole in the bark of the tree in which I was able to disappear.

I lied down in the hole with nothing but dark thoughts to keep me company. How had I managed to become such a fool? Perhaps they were all right, after all this world is dark and scary, I can’t fly in the rain and there are birds out here, it’s too windy for me to fly properly, I don’t know anyone here, my family is going to starve without me and I’m going to miss my dentist appointment. God, what have I done? I’ve completely forsaken myself and my identity and I have no one to blame but myself. And I thought myself through disturbing patterns like this for hours and hours until I eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion.

That night I had a dream. I was sitting on a train, with a microwave package on my lap. I was late for a meeting with a customer but the train wasn’t getting any closer to the job site. And though the delay was the fault of the conductor and not mine, the blame was afforded to me. Every other passenger on the train was Mr. Miller, chuckling to himself. He kept looking back at me and saying”Gee Greg, better hurry up and get there… Or else.”

Something shook me awake. “Argh” My eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness when I heard a pretty voice say “Umm excuse me. I didn’t mean to scare you, but you are asleep in my house.” My eyes acclimated, and before me stood a girl with the most beautiful wings you could have ever imagined, practically glowing blue and pink.

“Oh sorry about that. I’m new in town and I got caught in the rain, and then this raven was chasing me.”

“It’s okay, that raven is a real bastard… Don’t worry about it, I got caught in the rain too, so I had to sleep at a friend's house.”

“Thanks.” she was so gorgeous, I needed to keep the conversation going somehow, I couldn’t let it lull out awkwardly “So how long have you been a butterfly?” I asked casually leaning up against the wall of the tree.

“What do you mean?”

“Like uhh… I mean.”

“My whole life I guess. I was born this way.”

“Oh yeah, wow that’s amazing.”

“Have you not been one your whole life?”

“No I uhh, actually, well, I used to work for Dunder and Dunder.” I couldn’t help but brag a little.

“What's that?”

“What’s Dunder and Dunder?”

“Yeah you said you worked for them?” she looked so confused.

“Oh never mind. Sorry I’m a little frazzled, I just woke up and I’m new to the area.”

“Oh okay well I’ll show you around, are you hungry?”

“Starving”

“Let’s go get some food.”

“Okay lets.”

I followed her outside, feeling even lighter than before. It was early morning and the sun was just coming up, the rain had ceased, the raven was gone and the sky was full of gorgeous waves of blue and pink. We floated for a while until we found a beautiful patch of sunflowers. She landed on one and I followed her onto it. “No silly get your own. There’s more than enough to go around.”

So I hopped over to another one. I looked over at her and smiled. She smiled back. I couldn’t help but be reminded of some dream I once had, but then I forgot all about it and carried on with breakfast.