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an
unfortunate day
by Martin Newman I. It was an unfortunate
event, the day the world found the time to force me from the womb. Belched
into the world by a sorrowful mother and an enraged father, whom left moments
after my birth upon seeing my skin was not the milky white flesh as he
had expected to spring from his seed. Months later my mother had no choice
but to welcome his return and disregard his obvious spite for her and the
rage inside of him for the both of us because of the mockery she had made
of him in the delivery room. Her pride was too great and uncompromising;
with the burden of my existence she could not afford to raise me alone
and refused to compromise her dignity for the sake of our comfort and well
being.
II. So on the streets I
waited with God pissing down on me. Pissing hard in my face, down my shirt,
into my mouth and eyes, drenching me, covering every inch of my body writing
his name on my back and condemning me as the salty urine burned as it poured
into my cuts and pounded the bruises that decorated my body. A vengeful
God, an unrelentless God somebody that gave my wretchedness meaning, he
showed me the way. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Today was an unfortunate
day indeed. Just like every one of my waking hours since I was bastardized
into this world, exploding from my mother into the fists of hate and rage.
Judgment has been made. I waited. Cold, wet, thirsty, sticky-mouthed with
adrenaline as I lay in wait, wielding an aluminum baseball bat in fists
clenched tightly with excitement. When the time came I had almost chickened
out. My heart clenched like my fists around the aluminum bat and I froze
until I could see the whites of his eyes stare into mine with recognition.
And as the first sounds of my name rolled off his tongue so did the aluminum
knock them to the back of his throat and bring him down to the wet concrete.
God pissed harder onto me, bruising me with each drop of rain shooting
through my body and shivering my spine. Down again I brought the bat and
down again and down again. For the first time I dare say I did pray to
God. Please let this bloody heap at my feet stay down, let him die. But
he would not. And again I bore down on his body as God pissed upon me,
ignoring my pleas. Until finally it was over and the rain washed the life
from him and down into the storm drain to be carried out amongst the debris
of the city, the rats, the bones, down the drain and gone forever. I wept
with a mixture of glee and fear as I hurried home and rid myself of the
guilty bat in the river as I went.
III. The police were foolish.
A murder suicide is how they billed the demise of my parents. They looked
for me but I was long gone, maybe they thought me to be dead as well or
they didn’t care and figured I would surface in a ditch or drug den sooner
or later. I didn’t know, didn’t care. I was long gone and started anew.
Nineteen years old, the bruises and the lacerations on my soft shell had
disappeared. My only reminder of those tumultuous seventeen years were
the scars on my mind and a photo of my dearest mother that I keep on my
persons at all times. I wish she were here now so she could see that I
got out and I made something of myself. My fortunes have turned, but for
how long I do not know. A new girl in my life, Natasha, soon to be mother
Natasha and I swear I’ll do them both better than either one of my father’s
did for me. I would swear to it on the bible if I knew he wouldn’t ignore
me and do the exact opposite like he did that night he pissed in my face
and beckoned the one person that loved me down the drain to be held captive
when her wandering soul would come across the other soul let loose into
the afterworld that night. Damn Him I thought. I’m on my own. Me…Natasha
and little Angel in the womb. I do not know how long it was after those
thoughts crossed my mind that I opened my mouth and the piss fell in again…straight
down and into the depths of me where it burned the world around me down
to the ground. I stood in the ashes. It happened in increments, first the
job disappeared, then the involvement with those crazy sons of bitches
so I can keep the roof over Natasha’s head, then the day the pissed turned
to shit and I knew I could stand no more as the fires around me scorched
me again and more viciously than before. Those crazy sons of bitches entered
my home looking for their money and found only Natasha. Poor Natasha and
angel in her womb. Death and sorrow follows me and it was only a matter
of time before it found me happy and decided that my fate was to be different
than that. Those crazy sons of bitches used my Natasha repeatedly before
splitting her open and much like me forced Angel from the womb. Angel’s
fate was less cruel than mine. She died instantly and quickly. Her death
didn’t last nineteen years six months twenty days and six hours. The fire
was in my eyes, in my soul, it boiled my blood, scorched my brain. It gave
me one purpose. With my heart tight as a drum, pumping its hot juices through
my veins and sending me on a path straight to hell. Once again I lay in
wait. This time God didn’t piss upon me, the fire in my veins was too hot,
the sun to bright. I burned slowly from the inside out as I lay crouching
there, machete in hand. I knew his routine. The perps had a boss that commanded
the ravaging of my Natasha and I, I had commanded he be split open just
as she had and all of his bile and filth be spilled onto the sun and bake
on the concrete for all to see. But it would not be without its risks.
He was well connected and important to the city, my actions must be swift,
concise and clear. I knew his routine 12:00pm M-F lunch at his mother’s
cozy Italian dinner. That fat bastard, her mother will see what filth she
has spawned when his entrails spills and bakes slowly on the concrete before
her eyes. 12:45pm, my blood has boiled black and burnt, my flesh red from
the concentrated beams. God has a new trick, holding me under the magnifying
glass for the rays of the sun to come down and burn me alive. 1:30pm. It’s
time. Mr. FATfuckingBASTARD it is time. I make my move. Leaping from behind
the bush and running hard and fast upon him, he’s unsuspecting and bloated
with pride and pasta…. both will be laid out bloody before me before this
is over. And there it is…I wield the blade high in the air and bring it
down upon his torso opening him up like a fish. And it did all come out
covered in red and bile; mama’s cooking almost whole on the ground. He
collapses into his own filth. A scream, a gunshot. And just like last time,
I cannot stay…. I run and this time death follows me close behind taking
pot shots every chance he gets. But I’m clever; I dodge him for as long
as I can. Immortals don’t get tired though, I do. And after nineteen years
six months twenty days and six hours I am on my back…bloody and above me,
Death manifested in a crony of that FatFuckingBastard stands wielding an
aluminum bat. He brings it down upon me, again and again. I am hard headed
just as my father was; he brings it down again and again…. I watch death
through blurry eyes as he crushes my soul and lets it run down into the
drain.
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