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Robert Kite didn't consider himself superstitious, just cautious. So he avoided stepping on sidewalk cracks and walking under ladders.
Still, there were quirks in his behavior some considered superstitious. Or just plain crazy.
Like his refusal to utter the word "preposterous" in public. There was no apparent reason for this phobia, except that he feared something horrible would happen to him if he ever spoke the word. Now most of us could go through life without ever even experiencing the urge to say the word aloud, but not Robert. Whenever he talked with friends or family, the word "preposterous" occupied the forefront of his mind, and no matter how much he tried not to think of the word, it was like trying to ignore a rhino sitting on his living room sofa drinking a beer. It became such a problem for Robert that he would often blurt out "pumpernickel" or "pasta primavera" for no apparent reason. Friends thought him eccentric. They rather enjoyed his playfulness.
But this wasn't Robert's only quirk. He also felt an irrational need to skip whenever the song "Amazing Grace" was sung. This created a serious problem for him at the Lutheran church, so Robert began attending a Jewish synagogue just to avoid hearing the song.
Otherwise, Robert led a nearly normal life, considering he always wore plaid pants and a Hawaiian shirt for fear of an earthquake and entered his car from the back seat.
Of course his need to flap his arms like a chicken and cluck whenever someone said, "You know what I mean?" presented a problem. But this eccentricity actually improved the quality of life for most of Robert's friends and family, who had also grown mighty tired of the expression. They took secret delight in watching Robert's cousin, Frankie, become strangely tongue-tied whenever he was in Robert's presence.
Despite his quirks, Robert managed. He had a good many friends. After all, while most of us strive for normalcy, the people we most fondly remember are the eccentrics. And Robert was certainly memorable. He always wore suspenders and a belt, even on the beach.
"You can't be too careful," Robert explained, smiling. He was aware that if there were a thin line between caution and crazy, he tightrope-walked his way through life.
People made allowances for Robert because, like a young child, he was fun to be with. It was a miracle to many people, but Robert even managed to keep a steady job as a copyreader for the local newspaper. At work, no one cared what he wore or how he entered his car, as long as he put his obsessive compulsiveness to good use and scoured copy for misplaced commas and the incorrect use of "it's."
But Robert grew uncomfortable with his own behavior. Although he had friends, he had no intimates. Esther Bleismueller, who lived with her mother across the street from him, was his closest confidant. "I admit I take a certain pleasure in people paying attention to me," he confessed to her. "Especially when I wear my red stocking hat and sing show tunes on line at the supermarket.
"Which, of course, I must do to keep the computer scanner from catching fire."
"No, you don't," she said bluntly. "If you stop pedaling, the world will continue spinning on its axis, I assure you. Like the rest of us, you don't have much control over your environment. Stop pretending as if you do."
This shocked Robert, for no one had ever spoken to him quite like that before. He vowed to at least reduce his quirks. For Esther.
The next day, he chose not to wear a Hawaiian shirt, although he looped an extra belt over his plaid pants, and, of course, wore his suspenders. The earth did not quake. At the office, when he heard a coworker's radio playing Patsy Cline's rendition of "Amazing Grace," he fought the urge to skip. His heart pounded and he grabbed the tops of his legs in a valiant effort to keep them still. He knew that Esther would remind him that logically there was nothing to fear from the song. Breathing like a woman in labor, Robert suppressed the need to skip. And nothing bad happened. He undid his suspenders. The earth didn't crash. Nor did he lose his pants. A coworker, seeing that Robert was undergoing an epiphany, shouted, "You know what I mean?" and Robert didn't cluck like a chicken.
"Preposterous!" he shouted with all his might.
And the ceiling over his head collapsed, killing Robert instantly.
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