Where does your father do his barnacles? Unfucked Edition Part 3

The hangover made my blood unbalanced. A prickly roll of heat flushed into my skin and darkness tunneled my eyesight. In a faint spell I found myself kneeled at the payphone holding my head as low as the phone cord would allow me. The coolness of the tile was soothing like water. I made a mental note to wash my knees the moment I finished shitting out this night garbage tied up in my guts.

“What if you do have kids some day? What if they find out that you have strays out there? Jesus, what if one of them starts dating someone and they find out it’s their goddamned brother?” Like a baby trapped in a balloon full of ketchup something in my gut struggled and kicked. For thirty seconds or more I had to clench with all my strength to keep my asshole from dilating until something in me, something like a lava lamp bubble rushed upward and the pressure subsided. “And what? My long lost children fuck and they make some kind of retarded deformity? Is the worse case scenario always your first instinct to jump to? I guess they’d get some sort of blood work done and find out that they’re siblings and one would go purchase a good, thick rope and hang themselves while the other flees to hedonist Thailand, meanwhile, gramps here would have to take little Lenny, the shit-smearing miracle, on walks or frisbee or to some facility where I can just forget about it? Yeah, if you’re asking if that would be awful, of course, yes, that would be awful.” My whole body is a ketchup bottle with two openings left out in the sun, it’s contents separating and now some wet or cold apparition probed like a dull butter knife at the bottom opening, demanding it’s way in or, maybe, out. “That’s fucked.”

“Of course it’s fucked, but it’s never going to happen.”

“Never say never.”

“Oh, what a clever saying. Is that your next tattoo?”

“It could happen.”

“I’ll tell my kids never to go to Denver. I’ll lay down a kibosh or whatever, and then they’ll never go there and that should put the odds in my favor even more than they already would be. Kapeesh? Also, what are the fucking chances, man? If that’s where your mind jumps it must be fucking impossible to be you. Every time you eat a meal you must be worried that this is the time you’re gonna choke or get E. Coli and shit yourself to death while begging for water, right? Every time your wife’s sucking your dick are you crippled by the fear that she might have a seizure and bite an inch or two off the top? There are seven billion people in the world, like 300 million in the United States. So what? What’s the math? What’s the piddly-shit chance that your paranoid bullshit hypothetical situation comes true?”

“There’s still a chance.”

“That’s bullshit. That’s mom’s particular species of bullshit speaking through you. She filled us up with that shit and you’re the only one that can scrape that shit out of your brain. Follow the evidence. Be a fucking scientist and believe in objectivity, not your useless fearful fantasies.”

“You’re not a scientist.”

I knew the words should hurt or at the very least stir up some sort of emotion, but all I could feel was the swollen liquid palm of chaos applying firm and steady pressure to my asshole. I couldn’t see my brother’s point. All I could see was myself shitting all over my ankles on the cold tile while three young Japanese girls ate cocoa balls in the white kitchen that looks like a lab one minute when a lone little white girl eats from a moderately portioned bowl in a sterilized outfit and then more like a frozen yogurt shop the next minute when three big-eyed and black-haired Japanese girls, all skirts, bangs, and giggles fill the hot air with quiet close-lipped chatter and the zipping and rustling of their lunchbox-sized backpacks. They could very well be about to lose their appetite as they watch me faint and go limp in a pile of my own soft serve.

“I gotta go.” The ketchup bottle was opening.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I’m just hungover. I need to shit. Like now.”

“Take care, brother.”

Other Posts:

The Best Fuck You Part 1Part 2Part 3Part 4
Invest in Rain Part1Part 2Part 3
Where does your father do his barnacles? Part 1 Part 2
Van-life series Part 1

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