Ever since the dawn of Greek Philosophy over two thousand years ago, thinkers have been pondering the question - Why am I here?
It's now 2024 and for the first time ever, someone has shifted this profound question in a most provocative way. And who possessed the creative philosophic insight to do such a thing? None other than Brooklyn born and bred writer Peter Cherches - with a nod to Kafka along the way.
Here it is, a microfiction, one of ninety, collected in Peter's recently published book, Everything Happens to Me.
THE CAT BURGLAR
A cat burglar crawled through my bedroom window in the middle of the night, waking me from troubled dreams. I gasped as I bolted up in bed and saw the figure halfway into my apartment. He made his way through and landed on his feet in front of the window.
"Shhh," he said. "If you do as you're told, nothing will happen to you. Keep your voice down. If you have something to say, say it sotto voce."
He had a black stocking over his head, like the ones that bank robbers in movies often wear. He was wearing a black T-shirt, black sweatpants, and black joggers.
"Listen," I said in a stage whisper. "I don't keep too much cash in the apartment, but there's maybe eighty bucks in my wallet, and some loose change." Then I thought of something else. "Oh, and I also have some foreign currency - Euros, British pounds, Mexican pesos. If I think I might return to a country I hold on to the leftover cash from my last trip. There's probably about three, four hundred dollars worth."
"I don't want your money!" He sounded offended.
What else could he want? "Take my TV, then, or my stereo system."
"I'm not here for consumer electronics."
"Are you hungry?" I asked. "I could make you a sandwich."
"That's very kind of you," he said, "but I already had a burger and fries. As a matter of fact, it was at that little French place in Windor Terrace you like so much."
"La Paddock?"
"Yeah. I had it just the way you like it, with Gruyère and bacon, medium-rare."
"Wait a minute, how do you know how I like my burgers, and where?"
"Give me a little credit, dude! I do my research."
Why was he researching my culinary preferences? How would this help him achieve his criminal purposes, whatever they may be?
"Well, what do you want from me, then?"
"Want? I want to understand!"
"To understand? To understand what?"
"Everything. I want to understand roots, and causes, and effects."
"Are you talking about the meaning of life? Are you trying to find out why you're here?
"No, you moron. I'm not trying to find out why I'm here!" He sounded angry. There was a long silence. Then he spoke again. "I'm trying to find out why you're here."
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