“D’you remember?” he said. “That time when we returned from work. We were working in the same place back then. And it was dark outside and we walked along the street when suddenly there’s this big watermelon that pops in our way. We walked up to it and gave it a few light kicks and convinced ourselves that it must’ve been dropped by some delivery truck or forgotten by some merchant. And then you had this brilliant idea. You said that we should take it to my place and share it. I picked it up and to my place we went and we shared the sweetest watermelon I’ve ever tasted in my life. Love was obviously the secret spice there. We were so poor back then we were crazy enough to pick some random watermelon from the streets. Well… not much changed today. I’m still poor and you’re still my imaginary girlfriend. We’ll be together forever, you and I.”
His eyes went big into the darkness and he looked around and saw that the time was 04:17 in the morning and he was still hunched over his improvised desk with that cheap, second-hand laptop before him in standby
So nothing new he’d fallen asleep again while battling the keys, fighting to come up with the immortal story he’d promised
‘Shit!’ he thought. ‘To whom did I even promise it?’
But the answer was all too obvious. ‘Myself… I’ve to get out of this closet apartment one day.’
He looked to his right where his six-year-old daughter was sleeping in the old sleeping bag. She appeared to be having another one of those fever dreams that would make her cry all day because of the ‘scissor spiders that sawed fingers and legs together’
Hell, but they were still a bit better than the dreams of mother who won’t be around by the time she woke up
He breathed deep and slow and the pain in his side calmed some
He was also terribly hungry and it felt like it affected his vision. Made it blurry
There was only one cure for all of this
He resumed his battle with the keys
Hoping to all the gods that the damned laptop won’t break again
“Just a few more chapters,” he whispered as he swallowed bitter saliva
He awakened at 07:30 in the morning and took a few seconds to stare at the ceiling and decide why this day too began without a so called morning wood
Fuck the meaning of life and whether or not we're alone in this vast world He wanted to know why his dick wouldn't stand up in the morning like it used to
Perhaps because it had nothing to reach for There was nothing to life anymore No wife No girlfriend
...not that they ever existed in the first place but at least there was the hope that one day maybe...
Now in the late twenties he felt like a fish outside the water in a mud that was slowly hardening around him
This was life
Working night shifts in a cold warehouse and coming home in the morning to sleep a few hours
Waking up and listening to another video detailing the importance of sleep
You should sleep eight hours a night every night Every single night No exception! Else you will suffer from severe chemical imbalances in the brain and body and will end up horribly depressed and weak, anemic, with heart problems that will eventually lead to a premature death
But he needed the job
He wasn't qualified for much else
But hey, cops and nurses and firefighters worked night shifts
Well, maybe But their work carried so much more meaning
He sighed as he whipped the thought away and stood and got a cigarette put it in the corner of his mouth and lit it
He came before the window
“Look,” she said. “Maybe it’s time to just leave everything behind and come join me.” She grinned at him from inside the dirty glass of the window
“I don’t know,” he said. “I can still feel it. The spark. You never know when it’s gonna burst into a flame and that flame might become–”
“Bullshit!” she said. “You humans are so pathetic when it comes to this. Listen to yourself! Sparks and hope and sunshine, rainbows. Stop deluding yourself. You’re twenty-eight already and you can’t even get it up thanks to your chronic depression. Look at your lame self. You’re so lame you came to kinda love it even.”
He exhaled smoke. “Well...”
“Well shit,” she snapped. “Listen, boy, I’m offering you salvation here. Look at me when I’m talking to you! Look at my dark face, at my hard tits, look how long this tongue is. See? I can fish inside your guts with it. All you gotta do is join me. Step into my side of the world and we can be together. Look, I’m about to piss. Come here. Closer. Stand with your face up and let me shower you with this small blessing. Give you a taste of what’s to be gained by joining me here. C’mon. And don’t keep that mouth closed, dammit! Stick your tongue out.”
He finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into the moldy earth of a flowerpot
and all they had under the overcast sky was a small boat they shared
The old man would drink from afternoon till morning and sleep all day He wasn’t good for much. Had cancer of the liver and enough kidney stones to add about a newborn’s weight in his core
“So I’m drinking,” he said. “Cuz I wanna bring it earlier. My end.”
“Well,” said the girl. “You’re drinking my money. I work hard for that shit, you know?”
“Shut up,” said the old man. “You’ll have all the money in the world after I’m gone. You can sell the boat and maybe borrow some money and get yourself a small, cozy apartment somewhere.”
“You’re delusional,” said the girl. “With the money this boat’s worth I’ll be lucky to get me a doormat. Used.”
“Don’t be disrespectful now,” said the old man. “I love this here boat like my wife.”
“You never had a wife.”
“Well shit! I love her as if she were my wife, okay? And she’s worth something. She’s worth a lot, I tell you. If you think she won’t be enough to get you started nicely in life, well, you should’ve gotten yourself a husband.”
“I don’t need a fucking husband. I’ll get one after I get out of poverty, not before.”
The old man watched the gray clouds above. It might as well have been grass to his eyes. “Oh, I sure hope to see that day from the other world. You think I’ll have to look up to see it? Or down?”
The girl didn’t answer
“Anyway,” said the old man. “I’m sure it’ll happen one day, my dear. Until then... Keep writing, okay? You’ll come out with the hit eventually. I know I haven’t been of much use to you in this life. But hey, maybe in the next. Maybe, as God reaches with his hand to take me above, I’ll bite off his little finger and spit it on the boat to you. Use it as a pen. See if you’ll write with it a story no eye could ever ignore. I want this for you, my dear. Even if I’ll trade my heaven for it.”
“Oh, you crazy old man.”
“I’m a serious crazy old man. Crazy enough to see heaven in you making it with your writings, dear. Thus, no matter how bad or evil I’ve been I know I’ll be going to heaven. I believe in you.”
She said nothing. Handed him a can of beer and went back to her writing
she got him in the left temple with the steel skewer
She could tell the kid was expecting it and just gave up the fight, the struggle
it all ended in that night
for all of them
except for her
Her life just then began
and four and a half years later we from the facility call her Nill and attend her daily sermons in the art room
She tells us about the futility of life for the human being. How it’s nothing but a cancer in the fabric of reality, an anomaly that grows and grows and corrupts healthy tissue
but don’t let the theme fool you
this is not about human beings polluting the planet and hurting it
No. It’s far more spiritual than that. It’s metaphysical
The cancer is the human being’s ego. The part that desires to create things in its own image, to serve it, to admire it
Wasn’t everything so perfect before? Plants and animals and fungi were just here. Going on about their flat existence. It was perfect. But then the anomaly, the cancer suddenly came into being. The human
capable of thought. Therefore of creation. The only living being capable of creation, capable of being more than its natural instincts
We should have gone extinct a long, long time ago
had it happened everything would’ve been pure to this day
The only salvation is then for all of us to accept the truth and be set free in death
No matter how you look at it you can’t disagree
These days not even the doctors disagree
She has elevated all of us to her level
Now we know what to do with life as soon as we get out of here
she vomited and came out of the bathroom with colorful spit on her chin and in her hair
lied down in bed
"Better on your side," I said, "not your back."
And she said, "Does it ever grip you?"
"What? Hangover?"
"No. The longing to... to just return home. Home where you grew up. Where the world was introduced to you."
"No."
"C'mon, really? Never?"
"I do get nostalgic at times. But then I remind myself that nostalgia is just another form of depression. The most pleasant one, but... still a form. I have enough of them, and an extra one is not welcome. Not as long as I can do something about it."
"You're cold. But I don't mean nostalgia. Not exactly. Look, you ever, uh, planted flowers in the garden?"
"I don't remember. Why?"
"Well--"
"Actually, I do remember this one time when my little cousin and I placed an apricot seed in the ground. Of course we hoped for an apricot tree to grow but... Well, you know how it is when you're a kid, patience is never among your attributes. The younger you are, the less you have. My cousin, he was younger than me. So he lacked patience more than I did. As the days passes and the apricot tree didn't show up from the ground... his patience reached its end. That was it, he wanted to dig it out and look at the damn seed, see if it sprouted or whatever. And I told him, begged him to stop that stupidity and give it more time. I was very serious about it. But the more serious I was the less serious he grew until eventually it was a sick game or him versus I with him constantly threatening to unearth the seed, a menacing, cartoon villain grin on his face all the while. I had to hold him back and then, still grinning, he'd swear he won't do it if I let go. I let go and he immediately went back to the spot we buried the damn seed and after he did it a few times I... guess I snapped. I punched him square in the face. Pretty damn hard indeed. Hard for a kid, I mean. Immediately the blood came rushing out and fell on the ground. Right on the spot where we buried the seed. Now, I know it would've sounded so damn poetic an' all if I said the apricot seed took his blood in and grew a tree, but c'mon, this is real life we're talking here. He just bled from his nose and shrieked like a fucking devil and I wanted to just punch him again. Harder. Yeah... I didn't do it. It was too late anyways. Grandma came to the commotion and I got my punishment. Nothing too extreme, just... just something to remind me of that time when I tried to plant something, create life, and... failed because of somebody else. That's my only memory of trying to plant something. Not very happy as you can see."
Right but she fell asleep in the middle of the story
wouldn't be the first time
this is real life after all
it can't go like in fairy tales or even ordinary tales
Had it went that way she would've empathized with my story, I guess, and seek to console me in some way
had it went that way there would've been some poetic justice somewhere, just ready to poke its magical head out
he found one crumpled cigarette in his breast pocket straightened it gently, expertly between his palms put it between his lips and lit it
He was on the roof watching the afternoon skies
a bit drunk
He pointed at the plume of smoke he exhaled and said, “The trick is to stay in the game until you’re the only one left. It don’t matter how good you are or how you evolve. Just stay in the game until you’re the last one.”
The smoke vanished before him, raising to the skies
He nodded. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
He finished the cigarette and went back down to the wedding
Daydreaming as a profession 