A pretty thick slice of hell That was life so far But today things will change Today he was six years old and that meant old enough to guide his blind father on the streets The old man was only blind for a year after some work related accident involving acid And there was a mother somewhere too. She left shortly after father’s accident Today father held on to his son’s shirt at the shoulder and told him to walk towards the railway “I want to listen to the train,” said father but it turned out he wanted much more than that. He wanted to feel the train. Against his face So he stood on the rails and told the kid to go back home and return after an hour or so “Okay,” said the kid. But he didn’t leave. He watched from a safe distance Didn’t even find the event particularly disturbing Then he went back home and had some fruit loops with milk and his first taste of beer He had become a man
She could say it if she wanted to but the words would carry no weight behind them like a cat shaking the paw with you and not understanding the real meaning behind the gesture so was her every “I love you.” Enough to make an old boy cry but he preferred suicide Needless to say her response was “Meh.”
There was a dog outside and it kept barking for some reason. Ah yes, it was chained and the chain was terribly short and the poor animal was hungry.
Mother wouldn’t bother feeding it. No, mother wanted it to die because it had been father’s dog, inherited along with the house after father died. Mother forbade feeding the poor thing.
Her child stood next to the window and listened to the poor thing barking outside. It was better than listening to mother drinking and talking ugly words with her boyfriends.
He opened the window and the dog saw him immediately and barked at him. He wanted to cry. Tried talking to the creature but it wouldn’t listen. It kept barking.
“Mother would cut my hand off if she caught me stealing food for you.”
But he was a smart kid. He leaned over the window and thrust two fingers down…
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in nights like this he would just drink in the dark and smoke and lie on his side and hallucinate about a snake vomiting vibrating colors on a white wall Maybe the snake had eaten paint But it was a small snake no bigger than a worm and the amount of dancing colors it vomited all over was astounding Enough to paint the whole house But the colors would never stay on the things they fell upon The colors would bounce around and dance and vibrate mingle with each other and part and mix again and the small snake would vomit some more and it would make a sound like babies crying All he wanted in times like these was to crawl over to the poor snake and comfort it in some way pat its head, place it in his armpit to get warm…
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and the few survivors who couldn’t fight were lined up along with the civilians and shot or killed in ways to entertain the soldiers And dogs were trained to tear them to shreds and the ground became black with their soaked blood and over the next few days a carpet of butterflies gathered on top of it “It’s beautiful,” he said She didn’t pay attention. Was too busy removing golden teeth from a severed head she held in her lap. “Dammit, whoever made these implants did too good a job. I’ve to take ‘em with gums, alright. Look, my knife keeps slipping.” “Stab his eyes please,” he said “What? Why?” “Because he’s looking at us. I can’t stand it.” “Jeez, you’re such a pussy.” She quickly stabbed the blade into the head’s eyes one after the other. “Better?” “Whatever,” he said. “Just hurry up and pull those teeth.” “I’m trying. If I had better tools though…” He was silent for a long time and then he cleared his throat and said, “Hey, so… now that this shitty war is over… like, what are you gonna do with your life?” “I don’t know,” she said. “Get myself a few gold teeth as extra spoils and go back home. My mom wants me to marry this fat guy from the neighboring village. I probably will then I’ll shit him out a few kids and… well, grow old and die, I guess.” “What? Is that it? That’s all?” She looked at him with a grin. “Hey, don’t worry, you’re still getting some. Just wait until tonight, okay?” “Dammit, that’s not what the heck I meant. I meant… you know, there’s gotta be more to life than just… just getting married, making kids, and dying.” “Really? Well, what are you gonna do then?” “I’m… gonna write. About it all. The war and… everything.” “Write? Like, a book? A story?” “Yeah. It’s been my dream since before the war started. Now I’ve the experience to write about.” “Bullshit experience,” she said. “Who in the fuck d’you think will wanna read that? What’s the story gonna say? How you killed the enemy? Poisoned their wells? Raped their women and enslaved their children? Stuck twigs down the dick holes of prisoners and broke them inside for fun?” “Hey, I never did any of that.” “But you were there when the others did it. And did nothing to stop them. It counts as--” “Fuck! Okay, you’re right. Writing a book about this would be a terrible idea. Thanks.” “Shit, look, I got one. This is solid gold. Two more to go.” He sighed. “Listen…” “Yeah?” “About that marriage of yours…” “Yeah? What about it?” “Well, let’s just say… I mean, you know…” “Fuckin’ spit it out already!” “Don’t marry that fat guy from the neighboring village! Fuck, I said it.” “Oh? And marry you instead?” “Well…” “Y’know, the fat guy from the neighboring village is the son of a fairly rich butcher. Family business. And you… Your father’s the drunk who hung himself to avoid paying back his debts. You see the conflict here, I hope.” “So all you care about is money?” “Why wouldn’t I care about money? I want to live good, thank you very much. This is the real world, not some romantic story. Wake up. I gotta make the rational decision.” “I thought we had… something.” “Yeah, we fucked a few times cuz’ there was nothing better to do. And we’ll fuck again tonight, sure. But that don’t mean we’re lovers now. Look, you’re a nice guy. I’m sure you’ll find love back at home. You don’t need a bitch like me. I mean, if you think I’m not gonna screw other guys behind my husband’s back, you’re seriously trippin, boy. So think about it, that could’ve been you. Would you want that?” “No, I suppose not.” “Good. Well then, let’s get these teeth and go have some ale. It’s on me.” She stood and with her hand soiled with blood she reached out and pinched his cheek and stretched it to force a smile on his face. “C’mon, cheer up, damn you! We still have a life ahead of us. Let’s fuckin’ live it.” “Yeah… let’s.”
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a songless bird that would be the nicest name she’d been called the others, far more common, being that little wench your bastard kid the little rat useless piece of shit that came outta you and others She liked the term songless bird It was a title worthy of her in all the good and the bad ways The songless bird stands locked in her room and knocks and waves in the window for she has no voice to sing She gives silent cries to the neighbors and the passersby when the noises from the other side of her door get too violent or when it smells of smoke Which happens every now and then
she kept saying how much she hated her tattoos and kept showing them to us "Got 'em when I was young and dumb and now I jus' wanna rip my skin off." She pulled her skirt up to show one on her inner thigh. "Ugh, look at this one. It's supposed to be a bottle of Jack but looks like a wrinkly dick that's about to get in. Shit, and this one… This one looks more like a cunt than an eye, really." She kept pulling her skirt up farther and farther until it became very clear that she had no underwear "You wanna touch it? she'd ask from time to time It was funny cuz she was in her late twenties and we were kids. I was twelve if I remember right She probably got a kick out of making young boys horny It validated her and we had not a damn thing to object Good times
Something wasn’t quite right in this small, barren room. The man sitting across the square table, dressed in a white coat, seemed a little to calm for someone in reaching distance.
‘I could just reach for that bald head and snap the neck real nice,’ he thought as he watched the man. ‘What does he want from me? More questions?’
It was indeed more questions.
“So,” said the man in the white coat, “if you are ready to speak, I am ready to listen. I am here for you.”
“How come you’re still alive?” he asked the man.
And the man answered, “What do you mean?”
“Are you one of the few who adapted?”
“Adapted? That’s interesting. Please, explain. What do you understand through this adaptation you speak of?”
He shrugged. “I just… thought I’m the only one who adapted. To the new life.”
“I see. And what about your…
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She stretched on the bed and reached with her long leg and placed her foot on his desk, before him, on the notebook he was writing in.
“Wow,” she said. “Your place is so small, like a box of matches. And so empty. So lonely. Why don’t you ever have anyone over? I never see or hear you talking to people. Why must you be like that?”
“I don’t like people,” he said.
“Don’t ask silly questions. For the same reason I don’t like hotdogs. I just don’t like them.”
“Do you like me?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Would you like me to leave?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know a lot of things, boy. I came to you because… I wanted to have a place from which I’d be missed if I left. I thought the heart of someone as lonely as you would be…
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