A Nice Young Man
Due to some
minor legal difficulties involving my preschool business I left the states
for a few years, and went back to the Old Country to live with my mother's
family. I was not very impressed with them. They seemed like a bunch of
retards, much given to strange eating habits and pointless rituals. Uncle
Happie had an extensive collection of manacles, which he proudly displayed
for me daily. My big moonfaced identical triplet cousins, Hugo, Dewgo,
and Lieugo seemed to have the worst brain damage, habitually eviscerating
stray cats and butt-fucking each other. Aunt Euphoria was always sharpening
knives, when she wasn't mixing raw meat and beef blood into the rather
runny omelets she was so fond of eating. She also muttered to herself all
the time, often remarking to no one that we had to find a nice plump young
man to have over for Christmas dinner. Seeing as it was only April, I rather
thought she was being a little premature.
was only a week later that I awoke at 3 AM to yelling and thumping and
other general commotion downstairs in the dilapidated mansion I now called
home. Sleepily I stumbled down the big curving staircase to investigate,
just in time to see my relations gleefully dragging (with some difficulty)
a rather fat boy of perhaps 12 years down into the basement. Visions of
the sport I had enjoyed back in the U.S. came to mind, so I followed downcellar.
I had never bothered to explore there, and to my surprise and pleasure
discovered that it was well equipped with shackles, restraints, an examination
table, and a tidy little cell with inch-thick bars situated over the drain
in the center of the cement floor. Hmm. Perhaps my kin weren't as moronic
as I had thought. This looked like fun!
hulking cousins held the kid down while Auntie cut his clothes off with
a straight razor. Then they strapped him to the table for a little light
surgery. Uncle Happie used a very clever device to both immobilize his
head and force open the jaws. Then by snaking an arthroscope down his throat,
Uncle deftly severed the lad's vocal chords while I watched it all on the
monitor. Excellent idea! If I had thought to do the same, that little girl
would never have been able to scream, and I'd still be enjoying the immature
fruits of Rhode Island's ... But I digress.
slit open the boy's scrotal sac and snipped off his testicles, which he
place on a dish. Auntie immediately ran them upstairs to the refrigerator.
She had yet another weird omelet for breakfast a few hours later ... Uncle
carefully sewed the empty bag back up, and to my disappointment, locked
him into the cell without allowing me to enjoy him.
morning the routine at the old estate changed. Aunt Euphoria spent most
of her time in the kitchen, boiling rice and potatoes, and baking cookies
and cakes in the walk-in Krupp oven. My bovine cousins trouped up and downcellar
constantly with plates of food and stacks of empties. Months went by like
this. The boy had nothing to do in his boring cell except eat, so he got
fatter and fatter. My frustration mounted steadily during this time. Here
was a delightful neutered delicacy -- all naked and pink and helpless in
his rolls of fat -- and I couldn't get at him. Uncle had the key well hidden.
I repeatedly lured the boy over to the bars for some tidbit of candy, but
could never get him to turn around and bend over. Eventually he refused
to come near me at all.
Christmas arrived. We indulged in all of our time-honored family traditions:
the bear trap inside the fireplace hearth, the electrified wires strung
across the rooftop (we used to employ sharpened stakes on the roof before
electric power), the barbed-wire and cow-eyeballs wreath on the front door
... Christmas time is indeed the best time of the year, with so many fun
things to do. We had three crosses set up in the livingroom -- strings
of multicolored lights wrapped around them -- with a live monkey carefully
nailed to each.
morning was special, too. I got a fifteen-bottle poison assortment set,
a pair of Solingen daggers, and my sister in Alabama sent me her most recent
abortion -- a fetus in a mason jar, pickled in moonshine. I love opening
presents. Though it was a drag to get more than one of the same present
from relatives with similar imaginations. What was I going to do with FIVE
pairs of handcuffs?
dinner was best of all. The centerpiece roast on our ancient feudal-era
feasting table was magnificent I have to admit: the boy looked and smelled
wonderfully delicious covered with a pineapple and brown sugar glaze, and
with an apple in his mouth.
nice to have a young man over for Christmas dinner.