Carl

Carl thought he was imaginary. Not that he thought no one could see him or any of that sort of thing. He knew perfectly well that he existed and was a solid piece of matter. Carl simply felt that his life was made up. He just knew that someone had invented him and was intregal in the movement of his life, like a puppeteer and he was the puppet.

He decided this must be true on his thirty-eighth birthday when his friend Emma had accidently shot him in the leg with an arrow. What are the chances of that happening unless his life was imagined?

After that day he vowed not to try, why bother really if someone else is going to write your destiny anyway? Sure enough he landed a job at a carnival without even applying for the job. Fine with him. He hadn't been doing much anyway and he could have all the cotton candy and hot dogs he wanted.

While at the carnival he saw a young woman and fell completely in love with her. Her name was Elise, and while perfect in Carl's eyes, she was also talented at fitting herself into tight spaces and that's how she landed a job at the carnival. The carnival named her Elastic Elise.

For the first time in about twenty two years Carl made his own decision; he was going to marry Elise and they were going to live happily ever after. He planned the whole thing in his mind, what he'd say, how they'd date, where they'd live, even what kind of dog they would get together. He thought about Elise night and day as months passed. He watched her from afar as she practised fitting herself into boxes and chimneys and kegs.

Finally on Tues, December 19th he decided this was the day he was going to to talk to her and make all his dreams a reality. He put on his best suit and marched across the carnival to see her. He never made it.

On his way, he got hit in the head by a skeetball that had gotten away from little Danny Moss who was enjoying his first experience at a carnival. As Carl fell to the ground and before he passed out, he remembered that he was made up. Before he died he asked the universe why he was given any sort of desire for his own life if it was already laid out before him. He was answered by yet another skeetball from little Danny Moss, this one landing right between Carl's eyes.