Aug 17, 2024
My family had asked that I take out the trash. I did so with a smile on my face. No complaints from me. I was happy to help.
I walked onto the lawn, that saggy bag of waste dripping liquid all over my shoes.
“What the fuck happened in there?” I asked aloud.
An old wise woman emerged from the bushes. She was blonde and had wrinkly skin on her face. She pointed towards me.
“What’re you pointing at?” I asked like a true suburbanite.
“How did you get that scar, boy?”
“What scar?” I stammered, my legs beginning to sweat with angst.
“Between your eyes.”
“It was a racing accident! We were riding mules! I was thrown twenty feet throught the air! I landed like a sack of bricks! I’m lucky to be alive!”
The old woman scurried towards me, her blouse billowing violently in the fall wind. “Who put you up it? Who entered you into the race?” She asked.
“I did! I entered of my own accord. I can make desicions for myself y’know!”
The old shishka held her hand close to my nose. I was trembling like a leaf. The garbage bag continued to leak rancid liquid all over my shoes. I was in a real dark place.
“I know a liar when I see one.” She groaned.
I dropped the sack of trash. I bolted for the road. I was nearly hit by a speeding driver who screamed at me from within his death machine: “Look where the FUCK you’re going you hunk of hoar!”
I ignored the man, for I knew he was driven by a fear of judgement. I sprinted down the centre of the road. I looked over my shoulder every so often. The old woman had dissapeared.
I found myself overlooking the sea. The waves crashed onto the sand with a real anger. Seagulls screamed and floated through the air.
I made my way towards a pier. There was a ferris wheel at the end. I rummaged through my pockets. I managed to find a few pesos.
I was drunk and full of raw pride. I tried to squeeze myself into every conversation.
I played it calm and collected. On the inside I was like a raoring furnace. I was like the natural world- full of desire and a desperate need to survive.
I huddled in a corner and wore a philosophical expression on my face. I used it to lure girls.
The lobster of love. It’s a lie. Those animals have no eyes. They’re sacred in some parts of the world. That’s what I’ve been told by pastors older than you.
It takes two to get to the top of the cliff. That is how life is designed. It takes a helping hand!
The two saviours scaled the side of a tower. They were tall and lean. They were climbing to save us all.
“Hand me a wrench, Bob!” Creid Jim over the howling wind.
Bob pulled a golden wrench from his ass pocket. He dropped it, letting it fall down to Jim, who caught it with such grace.
“Thank you!” Screamed Jim.
“It’s the least I can do!” Replied Bob.
Across a nearby river. At the top of a hill. In a granite cabin. The public sits. They can see out through a long, vertical gap in the granite. It’s wide enough to stick a skinny arm through, but nothing else, aside from a cock perhaps.
The public watches Jim and Bob scale the tower. They stare with rapt attention.
“Those men are doing this for you and for I!” Decalres a man who so despereatly wants to be mayor of the public. “Raise thy hands if thou agrees!”
The public roll their eyes. Some of them remain calm and take a deep breath. A few others begin steaming with anger.
A kind woman approaches the loser man. “How about you lie back and let me fuck you?”
The loser laughs and gets down on the floor. The woman begins removing her top, when suddenly the loser shocks everyone! He begins rolling across the granite floor like a German Tank! The children stare in awe. They’ve never seen such bravery.
A few teen boys become patriotic and beat their chests.
