June 23, 2009

ohfuckohfuckohfuck pt. 1

Well now you've done it, the boy thought in his head. The seconds were drizzle. I should just not do anything until something happens and then I'll think real fast and do whatever comes to me first. That's called instinct!

More seconds. The boy looked at the ground. Nothing happened. The boy looked at his hands. His hands weren't doing anything. The boy looked up. He looked down immediately. He put his hand over his eyes.
He opened his mouth and let out a wail. A whale of a wail. An "AEUGHHHHHHEUHUHHHHH."

I knew you'd react this way, the girl said. You are always reacting in such a way that is unbecoming of yourself and of humans in general. I never want to see you again.

If that's what you want, okay, the boy replied to the ground. IF YOU WANT I WILL DISAPPEAR INTO THIN AIR OR POSSIBLY A BOMB SHELTER OR A DIRT SHELTER WITH 80 CANS OF TUNA AND SPAGHETTiOS SO I CAN LIVE THERE UNTIL I DIE, UNDER THE EARTH WHERE I BELONG. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? WILL YOU BE HAPPY THEN?

Yes. I will be happy then, the girl said.

Fine then. That is what I shall do HARUMPH, the boy said.
He turned to walk away and tried to appear confident in his walk away. His shoes clomped the ground steadily and he felt confident in his ability to appear as if he did not give a fuck. He did not look back to see if the girl was still there, watching him walk away. He wanted to, but he resisted. If he was going to do this right, he could not look back ever.

He went to the grocery store. He bought all of the tuna in water cans and Spaghettio cans that were on the shelf available to him. His receipt came to $164.87.
He went home and went to his parents' shed and grabbed the shovel and started digging. Dusk was looming. If he wanted to have his dirt shelter by bed time he would have to start digging on the double. And dig he did.

He dug a dirt cave and it only took him 13 hours with 3 pee breaks and a pickle sandwich from the kitchen. His dirt cave was very deep, deeper than moles and wells. The cave had very high ceilings, high speed internet, utilities included, a leather Lazy Boy Recliner, and a paper lantern from IKEA suspended from the dirt ceiling. He dug shelves and a canopy bed in the walls of his moldable home. He arranged his cans of tuna and Spaghettios by size and expiration date and settled in.

He took a nice steamy shower, which eased his muscles from all the manual labor he has just completed. He was pleased with his new quarters and thought he would take in some light reading in his Lazy Boy. He got into his pajamas, put on a pot of tea and thought he'd nibble a bit before Conan came on.

Tuna or Spaghettios tonight... he asked himself. Spaghettios. Definitely.

He grabbed a can from his pantry and stared at it in his hand. He broke out in a cold sweat and his chest became hard with fury and devastation and his mouth frowned and he wanted to cry but he could not cry for it was just too much.
He did not have a can opener.

Oh Fuck, he thought to himself. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

1 comment:

Buz said...

This is awesome. Look forward to your next in the series.