Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Ice Cream

I am walking down the street when I see a little boy enjoying an ice cream cone. He is a pleasant looking child, no more than 5 years old. He stands 4 feet 6 inches, with big, blue eyes and sandy colored hair. I find it odd that he is alone, and I smile to myself. Then he looks up at me. A blank expression.

As soon as our eyes meet, I stop walking. I cannot help but feel extremely uncomfortable. I can't pinpoint the feeling. Nausea? No. Nervousness? No. Do I know this kid from somewhere? No... It sort of reminds me of the feeling I got in my balls when I peered over the edge of the Grand Canyon last summer and saw my life flash before my eyes. Not pain. Just discomfort. Suddenly a feeling of sadness washes over me, flooding my body. I am literally staring at this kid. Standing over him and staring into him. Staring through him. I can't look away. Just as I begin weeping the feeling swerves off in another direction. The sadness turns to anger, then to hatred. Then to clarity. An answer. As if he shot the idea out of his eyes, and planted it directly into my forehead. Into my brain. I know what I must do.

I quickly stagger toward the boy and whip him in his stupid, little face with the back of my hand. The ice cream cone falls to the ground and the top scoop rolls off the sideway into a sewer drain. Of course he's crying. What a fucking loser. What has he ever fucking done with his sad, fucking life? Sit around and eat fucking ice cream? Ice Cream? Despicable. A sad excuse for a human being.

Now the sound of his sobbing is overwhelmingly offensive to my ears. Soul crushing. I hit him again. He starts to scream. A jackhammer next to my bed at 6 AM on a Sunday. That's exactly what it fucking sounds like.

I've had enough of this insignificant, little asshole's bull shit. I need to silence this kid.

I push him down and grab his ankles. His soft, little body is weightless. I hold him upside down by his legs, and whip him up behind the back of my head. I don't hesitate another moment. With all of my might, I pull him up and forward, over my head and forcefully slam him down into the sidewalk in front of me. There is a deafening crack when his skull shatters and the screaming stops. I continue to whip... Crack... his body... Crack... against the sidewalk... Crack... until his bones are nothing but dusty shards in the bottom of a human sack of bloody flesh... Thump... Now I'm finished.

I force the shitty, little bag of bones down the sewer drain. It gurgles and oozes with blood. The sound of flatulence. There is a wet slap when it hits the cement on the bottom of the man made precipice. It probably landed on that vanilla scoop. I laugh. I feel a sense of relief now. I'm going to have a great day. I continue to walk down the street.