Prompt:
Use the onion headline “Unexamined Life Lived” as a tile and you piece.
Write a story of 850-1200 words that takes this headline literally.
Constraints:
The protagonist has reached a natural pause point (end of a job, relationship, era, or routine).
Reflection is available but actively avoided –no journals, therapy sessions, confessions, or mono logs
about meaning.
Insight must come only through actions, habits, and omissions –not explanation.
Include at least one moment where another character clearly expects introspection –and does not get
it.
End with a choice that feels both ordinary and final.
Tone: calm, unspectacular, quietly unsettling.
Unexamined Life Lived
Tony’s diet had changed little since childhood. Cheerios for breakfast, ham and cheese sandwich with chips for lunch, a Hungry Man entrée and bowl of ice cream for dinner.
His taste in television also remained the same, viewing programs and movies he enjoyed as a child and teenager, following his TV friends and family on Nickelodeon and then various free streaming services.
In school his grades followed a perfect bell curve with a consistent C average. He didn’t mind school but didn’t miss it when it ended. Ignored by his classmates, his averageness did not draw the attention of bullies, and his mute manner made him no friends. On the rare occasion of being called to answer a question in class he always responded, “I don’t know,” and teachers moved on. This became Tony’s response to most things.
Upon graduation he found work in a bowling alley not far from the home he shared with this mother. Always on time, he walked to work where he blithely swept the floors, sprayed and cleaned the shoes, and learned the simple maintenance of bowling balls, ball return machines, pin machines, and the rest. When he was old enough, he filled pitchers of beer for thirsty bowlers but found the taste too bitter for his own palate. He mastered banal banter with the regular customers, not receiving or giving any energy in the exchange. On his days off he liked to go for walks keeping to the familiar route of the bowling alley, stopping in for lunch, and then back home. Bowling alley managers came and went, Tony adapting to their small changes in how to operate the alley for maximum profit and turning an unknowing eye when the bosses snuck off to the supply closet with waitresses.
And so it went for a few decades, Tony and his mother, content ships passing in the living room. Tony responsible for laundry and cleaning the apartment, his mother the shopping and preparing meals. No conflict, no drama, simple cohabitation as Tony’s bank account grew and grew. Over the years he developed the potbelly of a middle-aged man, yet his mother bought him jeans of the same waistline he wore in high school. They simply crept ever downward away from his navel.
One day Tony returned home from work to find an ambulance in the driveway. Inside paramedics were strapping his mother into onto a gurney. At least he assumed it was his mother since the person on the gurney was in a body bag. The police told Tony his mother called 911 shortly after Tony left for work. She complained of chest pain but by the time they arrived it was too late. Tony absorbed the information, blinking more often than normal because the officer was talking at him in such an intimate manner. He seemed upset and distressed to be sharing this information with Tony. From his TV shows and movies Tony knew to say, “Everything will be okay,” not at all sure what it meant but usually it would bring the show to a commercial break which he hoped the officer would understand. And it seemed he did. He grabbed Tony by the shoulder saying, “That’s a brave boy,” even though Tony was almost fifty.
Shortly thereafter a social worker met Tony one morning before work. She had short brown hair, a round face, and seemed to know more about Tony than he did.
“I have to go, the bowling alley is waiting,” Tony said.
“I’ll call them for you Tony, we have some things to discuss.” Tony did not go in that day, instead spending it at the living room table with the round-faced lady. She explained Tony’s mother had life insurance and a retirement account that were now his. She asked if he had a financial counselor.
“I put my money in the bank,” Tony replied. They drove to the bank so the social worker could help with the money transfer.
“Let’s see how much you have in your accounts,” she said.
Tony had been living rent-free his whole life, occasionally paying for birthday dinner with this mother or reimbursing her when she brought home new clothes for him. That left him with nearly a million dollars in his savings account.
“Oh my, Tony,” said the social worker, “This is a lot of money. Your mother also had quite a bit so you may need some help managing this.”
“Okay,” Tony said.
Over the next few weeks Tony met with a fiduciary to set up his accounts. He bought a smart phone and learned how to use Amazon and Instacart for his clothing and food and how to have his rent and utilities automatically withdrawn from the bank.
“So, what would you like to do with all this money, Tony?” the fiduciary asked.
“I don’t know?”
“You could take a trip or buy a house or a car. You have almost three million dollars in your account, so you have room to treat yourself if you’d like.”
“I’d like to go back to work.”
Tony returned to his regular meals and TV shows, leaving his mother’s room the way it was when she died, except for stripping the bed, cleaning the bedding, and folding it neatly on the mattress.