Phil- A Short Story By Unit7

First thing I have writen since My Suicide Note.

Phil

For as long as I could remember, Phil was always there. My earliest memory is actually of him. I was only 4 years old and playing in the Sandbox. I had scooped up some sand into a small bucket and placed it upside down. As I slowly removed the bucket, I sent a silent prayer for it to work. With my surprise, the sand stayed like that. I smiled proudly at what I had created. It was then Phil, for whatever reason, came over and kicked the bucket shaped sand sculpture. I stood up. My small fist balled, and was ready to pounce on him. It seems trivial now of course, I could always make a new one. But at the time it might as well have been life and death.

I don’t remember what happened after I stood up. But from what my mom had told me, I was wrestling in the sand with some imaginary friend. Every time she told that story of my childhood, I would want to say that there was someone there! It wasn’t just a imaginary friend.

This is not the only story my mom has with me and Phil. In fact most of the ones she tells is somehow the result of Phil. The time I decided to strip down to my batman undies to race outside, that was because of phil. The truth was, he had actually taken my clothes off me and was running away with them. The time I had turned my mom’s garden into a mud pit was because of Phil. I had caught him with the hose as he was ruining the garden. I yanked it away from him but it was too late. My mom had seen me through the kitchen window holding the hose. Just like every other time… Phil had managed to go unseen. My childhood was a constant battle with Phil. There was no escaping him.

As I grew older I learned to ignore him while at school. None of the other students or even the teachers paid him any attention. Phil of course made sure to pay attention to everyone. The first time Phil decided to erase the blackboard while everyone’s head was turned away I tried to stop him. I yanked the eraser from his hands and you probably can guess what happened. If you can’t well here is an image for you: A small boy standing in the hallway with a giant of a teacher lecturing you as students with hall passes moved past snickering. Unpleasant? That would be an understatement. From then on out, I didn’t stop him while at school. Who cares if Sally accidentally tripped? Who cared if he threw food at some kid in the cafeteria? For the most part I didn’t. Sometimes whatever he did was somehow linked back to me. It was then I cared, but I realized I couldn’t do anything about it. Who would believe me?

The funny thing about Phil is that he doesn’t appear the same. One day he can look like a little boy with finger paint on his face. Other times, especially when I was a teen and later an adult, was a tall muscular man. Sometimes he would appear as a tall lanky nerd with big black rimmed glasses. The kind you see in movies and shows depicting a stereotypical nerd. Sometimes he would be an obese man, sometimes he would appear as an elderly man. It doesn’t matter what he looked like, he still had all his strength, all of his love for tormenting those around him. He was the same person just with a different look. He once even appeared as a dog, golden retriever if I remember correctly. Once he even appeared as my pencil. It wasn’t until I had looked over my short story for class had I realized it was all about Emily Harte and how I wanted to get with her… in graphic detail mind you. While what Phil had written was true enough. You only had to look at Emily Harte to understand. I would have died right then and there if anyone else had read the short story. From then on, I would write a sentence and read it back carefully. It was impossible to tell when he might do that little stunt again.

For as long as I could remember, and as far as I can see into the future, Phil will always be there. Sometimes he would go away for a day or two. Sometimes he would just vanish without so much of a ‘good bye’ I never knew where he went and to be honest, I don’t even want to know. He would always return though. Most of the time he would return with a happy grin on his face, one I would imagine the devil with, other times he would come home angry. When Phil was angry nothing was safe. It was always best to keep him happy. Even if this meant that you had to take the blame for writing some nasty love note, detailing what you would do to them in bed. Why on earth would I even want to write such a letter to Drew anyways? If I was gay, surely I could get someone like Jason Strong. Maybe… well probably not.

I can remember the first time my girlfriend stormed out on me. I admit when I was a young teen I had sex on the brain and a complete idiot. We had been going together for a few months and sometimes, if I was good, I could feel her up. The reason she stormed out on me was because I tried to go further. We were making out in my room while my parents were at some banquet . My hand had roamed from her wonderful breasts to a place that was completely off limits. When she pushed me away I insisted. Like I said, I was an idiot. We got into an argument about sex and she ended up leaving. Before I could chase after her Phil appeared in the door. To my complete embarrassment he… well she. Anyways she/he/it was completely naked. Phil had turned into one of the girls, Miss September if I recall correctly, from a porn magazine I had stashed in the back of my closet. He/She put her finger in her mouth and was gently sucking on it in a sexy way. I threw my pillow at Phil and he/she just laughed. It was the first time, but not the last, that Phil would do that to me. Sometimes he would appear as Emily Harte or maybe my current girlfriend, and even once as Jason Strong. As I grew older and became an adult he stopped that little tease, finally realizing that he just couldn’t get a rise out of me that way.

After a long day at school and after my girlfriend dumped me(I’ll let you figure out why) I was royally pissed off. Phil, looking more like a leprechaun than anything else, was sitting on my bed tearing apart one of my school text books. I snapped. My hands wrapped around his throat and I was strangling him with my bare hands. I watched as he struggled against me. But I had had all I could take from him. I watched the light leave his eyes. I should have felt relieved when he was dead. I should have been thrilled actually. Finally this little bastard couldn’t torment me anymore. But instead, I was scared shitless. I locked my door and I started crying. Surely someone would find his body and I would be sent to jail. I balled up and I started to cry. I was just 14, to young to be being afraid of dropping the soap! 3 minutes, 180 seconds, later(but really it felt like a damn near life time) Phil got up. Dusted off his pants and kicked me squarely in the nuts. I was both relieved and terrified all at the same time(not to mention my nuts were throbbing.) I knew he was dead, I had even taken his damn pulse. Nothing. He was dead. That day I realized something. Phil could not be killed.

When I turned 21 I checked myself into the looney bin. I was insane. I had to be. No one else saw him. No one else heard him. When we were together, they only saw me. When I was finally on medication Phil seemed to have disappeared for good. I stayed there a long time. Well it was actually three weeks. Sometime during the third week the whole place caught fire. No one was sure what caused the fire. As I watched the building burn, Phil was standing next to me. He looked like a small innocent little girl. He was rocking back and forth on his heels whistling innocently. I looked down at him and he just looked up. His pig tails moved swayed a bit and he just smiled. “Hey don’t look at me. I was with Fred the whole time.” His voice was just what you might expect from a little girl. I soon checked myself out. Didn’t matter if I was drugged or not, Phil was always there.

I should mention at this point that Phil is actually capable of being completely invisible. I had caught him sneaking out of the girl’s locker room. A big fat grin was on his face, obviously pleased with what he had seen. I had figured out that he could appear invisible to anyone he wanted to. For some reason, I never thought I was one of them. I could always see Phil. That is when he wasn’t away doing whatever it was he did. I did become paranoid that he was just pretending to leave and was just hanging around invisible. I quickly dismissed that though because… he just loves tormenting me so.

At age 22 I me the most beautiful red head you had ever seen. Long perfect legs, a wonderful smile… and yes her breasts were perfect. In fact I don’t think I ever found a flaw in her body and I made sure to be very thorough. I don’t know why Phil was nice to her. She wasn’t aware of him at the time… but he didn’t seem to bother her at all. Didn’t yank her chair away from her or make her type something you didn’t want to. He was for some reason the perfect gentlemen to her. I know it sounds mean of me to say this. But it pissed me off. He would tease torment and make everyone’s life hell (much to my dismay, he loved doing this to me more than anyone else) as I said, this pissed me off. I should have been happy for her. But instead I was jealous and pissed. Of course this was his plan all along you see. By making me angry I would sometimes say things I never meant. It was nothing really mean nor were they true(ok so yes, her tv surfing habits annoyed me) Either way he was using me, to hurt her. Finally I learned to just deal with it. Unfortunately… that’s when he decided to reveal himself to her. Quite literally too.

We were having a wonderful candle lit dinner. Phil was, or so I thought, out for the day and it was just me and the most beautiful person in the world. Just as I was going to tell her I loved her… for the first time too, the candles fell over lighting the table cloth on fire. He was appearing as a leprechaun , with his pants around his ankles and waggling his penis in her face. Next thing I knew, she stormed out of my apartment screaming. Phil was just laughing.

I had thought I had seen the last of her. So I cancelled a reservation to a fancy restaurant and thought I’d stock up on a bunch of action flicks, maybe a horror movie or two, and prepare for a boring weekend. On Saturday night, 7:30pm exactly, she knocked on my door. She was in a beautiful red dress and ready for five star resteraunt. Me? I was standing in a plain white t shirt and my boxers. I had thought maybe I had imagined that disaster that was that night. I told her I wasn’t feeling well and maybe another time. But before I could close the door she stopped me and demanded to know more about Phil.

“That, April, is the story about Phil.” I looked down into my lap where my hands were, unable to force myself to see her face. I wondered what it would reveal. Fear probably. Maybe she would think I was insane or something. To my surprise she placed her hand over mine. I looked up and I could see the sorrow in her eyes.

“So… you have to deal with him all by yourself?” She said. I nodded. What else could I say?
“Have you tried… uh putting him in cement?” She asked. What the hell? Was she mocking me? I shook the thought from my head. “Well maybe you should try.” He smiled. Had he really shook his head?

“No I mean… yeah I tried encasing him in cement. You know what he did? He walked right out.”

“And don’t you forget it!” Phil cackled from his bedroom. April’s eyes darted in the direction of his room. She let out a sigh and smiled.

“Well I am all dressed up.” She stood up and ran her hands along her red dress. “So maybe we can find a restaurant that’s still open?”

I smiled. “Yeah, that would be nice. Let me change.”

END

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Congratz to anyone who knew where I got the name Emily Harte from.

that was very good. I'm sorry but i don't know where Emily Harte is from. i liked this story. It seemed different from your other ones, but it was well written. good job.

Dude, I love this. That's no surprise, considering my fascination with insanity, but this really was fantastic.

Hahah I love this Unit. Not only because Phil was our creation, but because you captured him just like I imagined! Loved it!

secret_life8 wrote:that was very good. I'm sorry but i don't know where Emily Harte is from. i liked this story. It seemed different from your other ones, but it was well written. good job.

This was mostly supposed to be funny/amusing more then anything. Emily Harte is actaully the combination of 2 character names from The Pact by Jodi Picoult. In the story they were boyfriend and girlfriend and I needed a name so I just her first name with his last name. lol

Hannah_Banana222 wrote:Dude, I love this. That's no surprise, considering my fascination with insanity, but this really was fantastic.

Thank you for reading.

pinkcupcake wrote:Hahah I love this Unit. Not only because Phil was our creation, but because you captured him just like I imagined! Loved it!

Thanks. Its amazing how something of a simple joke became our own little creation stuff like that. I am glad I captured him like you imagined him to be like. Because this is mostly how I had invisioned him(well mostly I kept thinking of him like a leperchaun for some reason. lol) but the ability to appear as anything kept popping into my head and wondered what kind of fun Phil would have like that.

This reminds me of Phil the toothpaste man

_DeantheAngelofDarkness_ wrote:This reminds me of Phil the toothpaste man

lol! I loved that story