Chocolate dipped in hummus that's somehow not that bad: "Skull" by David Long

There are some stories that just have to be either a comedy or a tragedy. They don't work in both modes. As much as some people loved Roberto Benigni's "Life is Beautiful," I found it ridiculous, and not in any way a convincing exploration of the notion that we can make life conform to our attitudes about it. Telling your kid it was all a big, extravagant game of hide-and-seek and that he wasn't really in a concentration camp would have worked for about two days, max. It's actually a little troubling to me to make the claim that one can overcome systemic genocide with a happy outlook.

Then there's the "I went to Las Vegas with my girlfriend and a rich guy tried to take her away" story. It worked as a comedy, but not as a drama, when two different movies tried that formula in the 90s (Honeymoom in Vegas and Indecent Proposal).

David Long's very short story "Skull" is about that moment in life when young people realize they are mortal and will die, too, so they try to cope with drugs until that's no longer fun. On my first read-through, I felt like this story just didn't work in the sad and somber tone it was told in. It felt like a story that could work as a comedy, but not as a drama with an unresolved ending. After reading it a second time, though, sticking the chocolate of this story into the hummus of its vehicle somehow didn't taste all that bad.

The story's told in second person, so the main character is just "You." You are at a point in your life when you're living a pretty sketchy existence, busking and living in a run-down sublet in the city. A girl named Keiko--who is often referred to as a "China doll" or having China-doll like characteristics (putting her sneakers aside like "ceremonial slippers") comes into your life and crashes at your place a bit. You do drugs together. One day, Keiko seems to have a bad trip. She pulls out a photo of an underground room built out of thousands of human skulls. She starts moaning about how she doesn't want her own skull to have nothing in it.

The key to the story is in "Your" subtle transition. The story takes place at a time when "your life could still go many ways." It's not clear exactly what way it did go, but putting together clues from the story offers some picture. You are a busker. You play the violin. The first time you offer Keiko to hold your violin, she is afraid to touch it.

It turns out you have a better violin sitting in storage in Maine, where you're from. Later on, the story compares the skulls in the photo that freaked Keiko out to a musical instrument: "Not white like bleached bone, but filthy yellow like very old, mal-treated piano keys..." Is this why Keiko flinched when offered the violin? She fears to touch precious things, because they remind her that those precious things will fade away. Her first question on touching the violin was if the violin was old.

There's some suggestion that "You" have already been through something similar to Keiko and are kind of starting to get over it. You used to still be "zingy from whatever kept you up all night" at dawn, but now you wake up early in the morning, and the day seems quiet and full of some beauty to enjoy. You're doing drugs, but maybe drugs that aren't quite as hard, and you're starting to sleep again.

When Keiko freaks out, holding her skull and worrying that it will be empty one day, You choose to try to comfort her. You look for something to feed her, something that will make it hurt less. You hold her head while she is crying about how much she doesn't want that head to be empty one day. You offer her what solace you can.

My guess is that "You" eventually stop busking, go back and get your good violin, and study music for real before going on to a professional career in it. You use your violin to continue to offer solace to people trying to cope with the realization that their skulls will one day be empty, their instruments destroyed.