Thursday, May 15, 2014

A Story About The Half-Life of Pollywogs



My brother Gregor invented a fish with hands on the bottom for finger-walking across the ocean floor. He dropped in for dinner and shared his success like he was at a familial investors meeting. I sensed from a young age that the entirety of my family took the off-ramp before hitting the freeway to normal. The station wagon of our family spent years driving to little visited towns like Freakshowberg, Self-mutalationville, Mutation City. The effect being an actual trailer located in places that don’t have official names, only what the people living there have decided to call it for the time being. When this fish finger proclamation was made, we lived in Beyond Blue Bin, named for the road out here being marked only by the impressive trashcan behind a fast-food joint.

-That’s nice Gregor.


Mom gestured to an open chair. Gregor’s glee over his idea gave him a joy that manifested in rubbing his hands together, giving him an aura of anxious malevolent exuberance. He had to physically fight himself to get into the chair, but knew better than to defy our mother. He wanted, nay needed, to get immediately to work on this new project, but knew the least resisted path would be his best shot, and set about helping to serve the makeshift mash potatoes to himself and the younger siblings. As he expedited diner I took the moment to peruse his drawings. Their crudeness belied the fact that he had the talent to create such a monstrosity, as the past had proven. Yet I didn’t worry. He would definitely abandon this project. Often with these things, he would invariably grow bored and distract himself with terrorizing ordinary people for sport. And this time I had an idea, one that he would even defy mother to finish.