Change happens. Instantaneous change can be disorienting –
moving to a new house, losing a parent, getting shot. But we are designed to
orient to new environments. As a species, our longevity has been marked by a
relative adaptability. The place where we were might be forever gone, but we
can survive in the now and here. True transformation, however, can take more
than we got. Transformation is a miles-long rug continually pulled from
underneath you, every adaptation is met with unimagined challenges. And so we
fall and roll and run and fall and on and on, gaining only bruises on our limb
protrusions.
Gus was an evil-ish sort of man. He’s the kind of guy who
will accidentally cut you off in traffic and then continually tap his breaks as
he checks his phone. Yet we still might be a little concerned when he found a
small growth at the base of his spine this morning. He though it might be a bug
bite because he woke up scratching it. The hot shower only aggravated it. He
wiped the collected steam of the insufficient mirror, twisted his love handles
and squinted at this reddened bump that might have come from a softball-sized
mosquito. He decided to show his doctor friend later when they played squash.
He hoisted his pants a little high to accommodate the protrusion, squeezed
himself into his unfortunately cared for sports car and hurried into stop and
go traffic.
10: 38 at the office and Gus hungered for lunch. He became
so distracted by the gurgling of his stomach and the blemish on his northern
rear end, that he could barely focus enough to steal his co-workers ideas.
Sitting had become difficult, so he shifted all his weight onto one buttock and
elbow pressed deep into an arm-rest until the left elbow-buttock combo fell asleep and he shifted to the other side. The intervals between shifts lessened. Sweat gathered on his
forehead and a swampy pool formed on his lower back. 10:39 – He decided he
needed to look at this lump he was now sure was cancer.
In the single stall bathroom, his pants around his ankles,
gus pointed his back side at a mirror designed for looking at faces. Not only had the bulge grown, the skin around
had tightened and felt hot to the touch. When he pressed down, it hurt more
than anything he could remember, but also felt good, like if he went through
the pain he would come out feeling better. So he pushed, eye closed. He pushed
even though the sweat rolled pass the impressive eyebrow levies. He pushed even
though his fingers felt slippery with grease. He pushed even though there was
the faint metal hint of blood in the air. He pushed until release! He couldn’t
be sure if he felt better, just different, the acute pressure had been replaced
by a general soreness. And in his hand he felt a strange object, still attached
to the base of his spine. He cracked open his eyes, unprepared for the mess and
what was without a doubt a curly pigs tail.
Gus would not be able to properly say how long he stared at
himself under the unflattering bathroom light. He also remembered someone
knocking on the door, which he must have retroactively imagined to explain the
racing of his heart. He barely managed to pull his clothes to an approximation
of their position, but was able to make it home on Autopilot calling his doctor
friend the entire time. Most likely his calls weren’t received because he
usually whiled away pre-squash hours by making sports related telephonic
insults he could not back up with action. He double locked the door after
entering his apartment. He decided he should call the doctor on his home phone,
when his phone rang.
Gary! he answered You need to come over right away!
A woman was on the other line.
Gus? Where are you?
Charlene, who worked in the cubical next to his.
We rescheduled this meeting just for you.
I- he began but started coughing.
This is twice now. There is no reason-
He continued coughing.
Are you okay?
He tried to say I’m fine, but instead continued coughing.
And then wet himself. Gus had never been good at panicking. So instead he just
stood there. Minutes passed.
Gus? What’s going on?
He felt something odd in the back of his pants and
instinctively shook his leg to get it out. A pink pigs tail dropped from the
cuff of his pants. Relief washed over him. He cleared his throat and spoke
confidently into the phone.
Now, Charlene…
He stopped himself short. The voice which emerged from his
lips sounded exactly like his mothers.
