The Bodyguard ("Fun" story #80)

FUN
by Michael Kroetch

The bodyguard is following someone. Or he thinks he is. It’s hard to be sure. Even if he concentrates, within the crowd he is still having trouble being sure of the person’s singularity. And that is probably the most essential and unwavering aspect of his duty. It’s a word they planted in his brain several times every day of his training. Singularity. You must know in an instant all of your subject’s distinguishing features. What sets your him or her apart from any other him or her. Their singularity.

The bodyguard doesn’t want to panic. He knows he can find his someone again among all these fun-seekers. It’s an amusement park. There’s the Tilt-O-whirl. There’s the cotton candy. There’s the funhouse with all its mirrors, which keep changing your shape and singularity. He knows his person is probably in there. They have to be. He’s searched everywhere else. Their safety must be in danger. He’s their shadow. They’re lost without him. They may not know this, but he does. He can see their terrible need. Can smell it. It’s like the popcorn stuck on the bottom of his shoes. They can’t get away from the safety he will bring them. Not really. Not even in there amid the noise and bright, penetrating distractions where the fun lives. Even in that castle, his person’s singularity must be protected and upheld. He may not wish to or enjoy it, but it is his duty to step in among the fun and maintain the status quo. He may dread the idea even more than his mother hates cigars, he may want to chew glass to avoid thinking about becoming part of this fun—but that is of no consequence. His someone is unattended inside there and his station in life requires him to bear up, cross the threshold, and meet what awaits inside those squiggling radish-red rubber walls.

As he steps toward the doors, he touches his dark glasses to make sure they are secure and taps his wire, hoping to receive some last minute word that will absolve him of this horror. None comes. The clown-mouth of fun is open wide, waiting to consume him.