****This is not a happy story. Do not expect rainbows****
“She thinks you’re nothing but a worthless ball of guilt and problems.”
Marcus blinked. Who said that? Wait, he thought, wait if Jeff were here could he have heard that? He looked around. No, so then they were in his head. Why? Had he forgotten his medication? Why did they come back, after so long? He tried to focus on the block, tried to shave off the pieces that didn’t belong.
“You know what doesn’t belong? You, Marcus. You’re fat, lazy, just better off dead. In fact, I hope someone comes here and cuts you right off the face of the earth- I hope they throw you in a ditch like the pile of garbage you really are. You’re nothing but camel spit- all green and no substance. Filthy shit- brained-“
Getting the nose just right was never easy. He sliced firm into the wood- hoping he wouldn’t lose his grip and slice his hand. Then he took the flat of the blade and shaved at the top and bottom and out came a nose. Just like that.
“You should get a bigger knife so I can carve out your guts, pig.”
“Hahaha! Oink Oink little piglet, squeal while we chew your entrails!”
“Chew them? Oh I can think of better things for a little piglet like Marcus.”
He chipped around the eye with his pick. Eyes, as his mother always said, have a symmetry to them and a balance of direction. How was she? She must be so far away at home in the Ward. Was she carving now too? Was she wondering what to make of her little Baseball Champion off to school? All grown up he was, trying to keep his balance to avoid giving the boy a wonky eye.
“Your mother’s a bitch- a bitchy little whore. You know how much your dad paid for her? A nickel! That’s how much of a whore she is, a nickel and he got to bust in there. I’ve got ten cents, you think she’ll let me cut her stomach while I make another little shit like you? If I go deep enough I can watch my sperm conceive”
He made his way to the chin and wished he had decided on a beard. But boys don’t have beards. They have chins- bare chins that barely need shaving like this boy does. He was the barber for the world champs. He was giving this boy a life he could never have. And listened as the wood shaved off.
He moved on up to the hat, grew for the baseball boy some hair for his baseball life. Soon the boy sprouted arms, and legs- ready for a wide swing. A wide swing for a baseball boy and his baseball life. No voices for a baseball boy, no a baseball boy has a baseball life and he hears no voices and he plays baseball.
“I can’t wait to see what your legs look like after I hit them with my bat. Mangled noodles? I’d pick you up and watch you scream under your own weight. And when you pass out I’ll give you a nickel and some cum too just like your whore mother. Whore whore whore whore WHORE WHORE WHORE…”
He’d always wanted a baseball life “WHORE!”, a little baseball life where dads didn’t hit moms “WHORE!” and where no one said nasty things. He wanted that peace and quite of the nine innings, the bursts of laughter and energy with a sprint to the bases. This he thought of while he sanded the little boy down. How great it would have been to be a baseball boy.
How’s that for a 100th post? From this story could you guess what Marcus is struggling with? Leave your guesses in the comments below. How do you feel about this story? Could you live like Marcus?
What should I write about next?
I can’t believe after all this time we’ve finally made it to 100 posts! Here’s to another thousand.
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