Page 91 of Johnny
“Really?” It comes out sarcastic and incredulous.
“Yeah. I might not look like it, but I’m a serious dude.”
She laughs. Loud. “Oh, you look it, buddy. Trust me, you look it.”
I think about that for a few moments. Wondering how people really see me.
“‘I will proclaim to the world the deeds of Gilgamesh,’” Megan says softly.
I stop in my tracks and stare at her.
“‘This was the man to whom all things were known; this was the king who knew the countries of
the world. He was wise, he saw mysteries and knew secret things, he brought us a tale of the days
before the flood. He went on a long journey, was weary, worn out with labor, returning he rested, he
engraved on a stone the whole story.’”
She stops and smiles at me.
“How do you know that poem?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I’m a nerd who grew up on an island. My whole childhood was nothing but books.
But it should say… ‘He engraved on his skin the whole story.’ Shouldn’t it, Gilgamesh?”
I smile back at her.
“Is that how you see yourself, Johnny Boston? The king who went on a journey to learn secrets and
then got weary?”
“He wasn’t a king,” I say. “He was a demigod.”
“Ohhhh.” Megan laughs. “I see. I see.” Then she holds up my arm again. “OK, so you’ve got
literature on there. But what’s this?”
I look down at the tattoo she’s pointing to and frown. “That’s one my dad had. The only one he had,
actually. I got this after he died. Kinda like a tribute, I guess. His had my mother’s name on it and the
words ‘Never forget’, so I guess it was his tribute to her. But I left that part out because it felt weird,
since I didn’t really know her.”
“Wow, you Boston men are deep,” she chuckles. “And really have a thing for mythology.”
“What do you mean?”
“This.” She points to my tattoo. “This is Sisyphus.”
I look down at the art on my forearm and narrow my eyes trying to place that name. It’s a picture of
a man leaning against a large… rock, I guess. He looks pissed.
“This is the last thing I remember seeing at his funeral,” I tell Megan. “Because someone had come
