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Euphoria

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Pieces of Advice From Heaven
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A Man Who is Allergic to Himself

I was there when she ripped open daddy’s throat with her kitchen knife. She sliced open his chest and took out his heart. She said daddy was bad. Bad man could not possible to have a heart. And I just sat on the breakfast table, holding Teddy. And she did not struggle when the police cuffed her and took her away.

 

She just smiled.

 

And I still remember her nice blonde bun, her milky white skin, her knee-length skirt she always wore to Sunday Mass. She was my everything. She was my mother.

 

SLAP! SLAP!!

 

Bad, bad boy! Aunt Mary told me. No I was not. I was doing a right thing; I shaved the kitten’s fur on a summer afternoon. It looked so hot in it. People only wear furs on winter, didn’t we? She didn’t feed me for two days for that. My cousin Eric, on seeing me starving, fed me dog food. I was five. I could not have done much for myself.

 

At school, I sat alone enjoying my lunch in my locker. Naughty boys always did that to me, shoving me in and locking me up. Sometimes they hid my gym uniform. I ended up being punished by teachers. One of them, the big boss, met me in high school and we became close. His name was Greg. He didn’t knew that I was his bully victim during elementary years. I changed elementary school because Aunt Mary wanted me to have cheaper education.

 

Me and Greg, we were so close. But I didn’t change much. I was a nerd. He was handsome and fit. And stylish, you could say that. We got close because he thought he looked better among plain people like me. I was not anything like him, you see. I wore eye glasses, I was thin. I was pale too. My wardrobe was everything that once belonged to Eric, which made me left behind for five years in fashion season. When everyone laughed at me, Greg laughed too. On the senior year he said he never knew me, never had a friend who looked like me.

 

Eric had a girl, head over heels for him. Her name was Jenny. She was pretty, charming. She was nice too. She talked to me nicely, when most of her pretty friends did not. I usually share my notes with her. It was okay I guess until one day- pregraduation day- I confessed to her that I liked her. She laughed. Her pretty friends laughed too. And I could hear the whole pizza place laughed at me. The chairs, the tables, the sundae bar. Even the cutletries, the plates and the pizzas.

 

I was being nice because I wanted your notes, dumb! She said. And she made a capital L with her right hand’s point finger and thumb, and put it on her forehead. Loser, she mouthed at me. Eric arrived shortly after that. Jenny told him. And he laughed, and everyone laughed.

 

And I ran. Away. Away. I went for ten years.

 

But then I was back to the same small town of Charliesville for a reunion. Well I did not make it to the reunion really, but I held a small dinner. How I missed Aunt Mary and Eric and Greg and Jenny. Aunt Mary seemed a bit older for her age. Maybe the absence of me made her scorch the toilet floor herself, hand-pluck the lawn grass herself, hand-washing their clothes herself, separating dark colors, light colors, undergarments, whites. She also had herself carrying pails of water from the well and baskets of groceries home from the market. Those things I used to do for her.

 

Eric was married to Jenny. Eric had this moustache and Jenny was pregnant. They were expecting their first child, they told me. Eric drove a truck. I chuckled. Jenny, was doing nothing stayed home and rest her lazy butt on the couch. She gained weight too. A lot.

 

Greg? Was still same old Greg. Sarcastic yet funny. Or the other way around. So what did I do? I spiked the dinner. Easy-peasy. Tied them onto their chairs and  woke them up.

 

Wakey, wakey, sleepyheads!

 

They opened their eyes and I saw their panic. The same stare daddy gave mother that night. And I laughed to tears. How happy I was to see daddy in their eyes! And I told them the story that happened to me when I was three. How I saw mother ripped open daddy’s throat. How she sliced open his chest. How she dug in to snatch his heart out.

 

Bad people could not possible to have hearts.

 

And there I was, I did what mother did to daddy years ago. One by one. I took them hearts out. I let them witness each other’s death, sparing Aunt Mary last. I gave those hearts to Xavier the bloodhound I left starving for days.  

 

And I let him finish my job. And I flew to euphoria.

 

 

Previous short story:
Pieces of Advice From Heaven
Next short story:
A Man Who is Allergic to Himself
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