Substitute for Love #3
We lived in the middle of a long block of modest colonials and silent dogs. As a kid wearing paper tissues under those dreaded starched collars for school, or with ear glued to a transistor blaring “Baby Love,” hands cutting the outlines of paper heroes, I thought the sun and the moon revolved around our house. Nobody dies in this home; nobody flies away. My mother, who loved Maria Callas and Brigadoon, bought two parakeets because she thought a house is not a nest without birds. I became overly attached to the shy one because he reminded me of myself in classrooms, of being stuck for answers. One day in a fit of rage, my father opened the cage and chased the birds out the window. I ran after them because the world was too big for the two of them, especially the one who didn’t chirp much. I didn’t see the car coming. The world was too big for the three of us. So now, I’m holding the world in my hand. It’s made of glass and it’s really very small after you’ve grown beyond it. I spin it around and around in my palm. Inside, I can see a small boy chasing two birds because they mean life and death to him. They keep running all around the world until they catch up. But the birds will always fly away and the boy is growing too tall and too starry-eyed for a life of glass and pain. So I make a fist and crush this world.
The post office lets all the clerks be mail carriers for one day. My assignment is to drive around and empty all the deposit boxes in a certain section of the city. I follow my map and go from box to box and empty all the letters and small packages into the back of a blue jeep. It’s mundane, but it gets me out of the building for a change.
I’m driving along and I see a shapely brunette walking a small dog. She waves me down and asks for a ride. I know this is against regulations, but I like her pink toenails. “Hop in babe,” I tell her. She has her dog on her lap; her blue dress starts scooting up her long legs. I soon figure out she has no panties on. I grab the dog and toss it in back so I can get a better view. Looking in the back the dog is pissing all over the mail.
“Do you want to bury your bone?” she asks, as she plays with herself. I pull over on a shady stretch of pavement. She’s got her tits out and dress up and yanks my pants around my ankles. The dog takes a shit on somebody’s birthday card. I get it in and start really working and this giant rat jumps out of nowhere and grabs the dog by the throat. The dog is getting murdered and the woman is screaming and this just turns me on more. I’m trying to bust both nuts into heaven. The woman and what’s left of the dog jump out of the jeep. Half naked she attempts to beat away the rat. The rat jumps back in the jeep, landing on my dick, clawing and chewing, and I erupt all over everything.
The woman starts running down the street, but drops the dog. I try to chase her down, but end up running over the dog, killing it. I gather up the dog waffle and later throw it in a mailbox I had emptied before. The woman is a ghost.
I figure, I’ve fucked a beauty, got blown by a rat, made breakfast out of a dog, and mailed it. In the process I committed the number one postal sin, defacing the mail. I drive back to the post office.
The dock boss asks me how was my day.
“It was kind of boring, but not too bad.”