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The Scum Gentry Alternative Arts and Media.
Scum Gentry literary magazines and writing websites hub: literary fiction, horror stories, weird fiction and more...

This Day You Will Be With Me in Paradise - Short Story by Jim Meirose

Math final exams are held at four p.m. Class meeting TTH eleven is assigned module ten. Be prompt. Rise please first. Obey promptly or face punishment. Mental of course; module ten, yes yes yes; memorize this. Immediately memorize this. No don’t roll. No don’t tuck under. The math final exam is today. Math final exams are held at four p.m. Rise now. Mouse rose in the dark. What time again did Rat say they’d meet in the library for today’s studying—No! came a voice. No came the voice at Mouse seated on the cold bed edge. The bunned-up hairy-eared craggy-faced simple normal-woman with a badge labeled Librarian number two on her Kelly green pilled-up business suit came up before him and said, You can’t come to my library again because get it get it g-e-t it, the math final is today—Mouse shot up. He lunged out a step and she puffed out everyway like a cloud of thrown talcum powder or Father’s ashes tossed foolishly into the wind on the streambank and blew back not a grain in the water but all on someone who ‘dat who ‘dat, who ‘dat; nevermind just laugh like hell it didn’t happen but it could of—but there is no laughter the morning of the last day of any kind or type or whatever not woken up but up up and not up at the same time that moment of every morning since forever truly yon truly out yonder truly sucks the biggest foulest wind of the whole day but at least it’s got over with fast. That is true of most days but never in the last day of any kind or type or whatever. Math final exams are held at four p.m. The Qur’an describes the number nineteen as and that believers will increase in faith. Fire pain is indescribable. Class meeting TTH eleven is assigned module ten. Be prompt. Rise please first. Obey promptly or face punishment. What would Rat do what would Jesus do what would St. Augustine do whichever way you prefer your end to come Father or Mother whichever you most commonly call yourself Brazil has it all for you so book now. There will never be another Wally Disneeck wacky-cation we are all very very afraid that’s true. There’s just dogs. There’s just sunny day greeny fast-running dogs. Very true it is that this is the last day left and the time will not move but a century at a time why do they schedule these kinds of tests this way so a full day of nothing to do must be endured and the nothing to do will fill moment by moment with fear? Chinese water-fear drip drop drip torture Gangnam style ho hell but no! Do not be silly! The last day can’t be made full of silly! Do not make small of Joe on his last day! I want to talk to Rat today—No! she snapped once more. Her badge makes her official. Before going in look up at the sky and the sun for the last time. Suck it up go in. Suck it up man. Mouse washed his face and before it he looked in the mirror and after it he watched himself towel off his face, which can be read a few different ways; his face came off leaving him looking just like a little boy’s big plain playball which would cause panic but God does not ordain so, so that’s out. His face came off leaving him looking just like a little girl’s little playball magnified by magic to only let him know his face is blank but to not let him know his head is down to baseball-sized because that shock would kill him. Surgery could theoretically be done to cut slits in the blank for eyes nostrils and mouth but no surgery could blow up a baseball into a bigball the only way to do that would be by means of air pressure; and the police would surely stop and cuff anyone caught in broad daylight out front of the Shell-spot slipping quarter after quarter into the air machine and then bringing the hose into the back seat of the car and being in there a while while the machine dinged off the airpounds ejected and something’s amiss—so the officer Joe and the officer Bolton merged mercifully before the merged together fused up gun toting blue man came and threw open the blackwindowtinted back door of the seemingly tricked-out superblingy mobile and caught the savior halo and all thrusting the airhose into the mouth of a baseball-sized pathetically pinheaded victim and surely this was a crime in progress so he or she yelled, Stop, and Mouse turned from the sink. Fire no good, snarled Tommy Arnooldo. He dropped his Jockeys and sat squat and defecated into the boiling up pure white terribly smelly deep-dish stench-hole that only offends others but is weirdly satisfying to the self after the largedump he rose wiped and considered the showertub and the background wasteflushdown stripped him of any desire or energy to go take a hot one. Mouse felt drainedof energy and clearly Mouse was feeling quite different than he had ever felt today and he could not place what the feeling symbolized fear no it did not seem fearful and happy no it did not seem joyful and tired no it did not seem bushed and hungry—hey help me—the hungry possibility got confirmed by the vacant deathly pale innernothing his gut seemed to hold—something fearful is going to happen maybe that fearful is some kind of starvation fend that off fend it off no do not offend so—go get breakfast good and easy go out to the kitchen what’s good and easy sure, toast. Noman McLarl’oon was a Scottish Canadian animator; twinkling stars other side of the wall; director and producer known for his work; stars twinkle; for the National Film Board of Canada; planets don’t twinkle. Pop toast down now but hey who took the bread oh me I guess but hey who put my clothes on oh me I guess but hey who brushed my teeth the taste the unnatural taste it better fade before the toast pops the toast will taste like shit but then again that’s all right because every toast Mouse ever had before fell short of expectations and every toast Mouse will ever have again will fall short of expectations so why would the toast toasting here here here and now be any different the odds are it will be exactly the same as every other what brand of bread makes the best toast see if Rat was here this is the kind of thing I would ask him and he’d search the library computer and he would loudly read the answer off and this would fifty percent of the time get loud enough tobe a flame to attract the big loud badged-up nightmoths to swarm in the millions around the streetlamp three poles up from the one Mouse knocked dark with a stone one young summer and got his first kiss for having such a quick and accurate throw where is she now. Where was this learned; about this Noman—oops, no, shit. The question’s gone. President Lebret cast the deciding vote, and returned Father Girard to the ecclesiastical authorities for his irregular conduct as a priest. Catherine was sent back to her mother. This meant he will never know where is she now. One after the other all questions get gone. And his appetite fled him to find her again where is she now so the toast went in the flippylidded shitcan because who has an appetite on the biggest day of their life where is she where is she where is she now the test has him uneasy food might just go down on through and pass the bad way; there’s a good way and a bad way go on guess the bad way. Fuzzy fuzzy slow-headed dense with fat stuffing inside ears back past tender drum worst place. Pulling the plug of the toaster out of overblown caution, Mouse would; yes a great idea it is yes Mouse will call Rat. Feet are unfelt. Shuffling over and under a week’s junk mail blue brown yellow white this offer and this and that offer that he pulled his phone sending a days’ worth rustling softly to the floor atop this the phone comes up and Mouse calls Rat and the ringing that’s not really the ringing drills gently in his dry ear. Light please. The ring ring ringing and the beep: Say your name! and the next beep and Mouse acted fast saying, Hey Rat. Switch not hot and switch not cold but switch just right three bears off on a Marathon. Strong clean tiledaround brittle light. Water. Mouse here. Watergush sound. The same sixteenth note figuration is continuously employed and variously exchanged between each of the three voices. Even so, this is the big day, thought to call you to force you somehow to lower yourself to wish me luck. Starts when? Later bye. Out the thousand holed headgush first yes but to hit the fiberglass changes things. Man I’ll need some beers or maybe ten. Avoid mine fields. Falling alive until hitting most often is the opposite. Mouse hung up and the phone half fell onto the rubbly strewn junk mail. Has a name but don’t say it. because the Qur’an describes the number nineteen as a sign for people of the scripture to be convinced. Ought to just grip it up and not look through it just crumble it gone all murdered in the shit can—oh gee Mouse wished he was still on the phone to add this swell zinger to Rat saying Rat I fully intend to fall and hit my head today to get another extension on the test; as a matter of fact the bulb has just lit above my cartoonishly rendered drawing-boarded head that I could do this again and again and again test scheduled hit head overnight in the hospital come out test scheduled hit head overnight in the hospital oh where oh where is she where is she now and again and again forever out to where it would be perfectly socially acceptable to say oh shit what the hell what’s the use senility is sniffing ‘round my straw house door like a blowing wolf my stick house door like a blowing wolf and my brick house door like the same blowing wolf ah retirement giving up not caring a shit this is all there is this is all that is never will you know where is she now but, but; the soprano voice enters in bar nine but only keeps the first two bars of the subject intact so it don’t matter no way since the breeze of the end is facing you coming at you all flaming hot concave all terrifying the hollow inside is because I really don’t know why but the time has flown it’s twelve thirty already and lunch time is here mandated by tradition it is defined as the hollow inside; the hunger inside; this is a dance-like three-part variation in three-eight time. Am I hungry yes no what—where is she now where is she no the fucking time to the test is the fucking difference between the time of the test and the time now and see; it would be impossible to calculate that because even though the time of the test is constant the time now is changing as a matter of fact the only thing the time now is is the truth of it being moving; how long does it sit on the now to be a time? Fingerpop. It is just like that question that question that where is she now that question which is I come halfway to you and then come halfway of that and then halfway of halfway and halfway forever; and that is the absolute proof that there is no now just a hole under you to swallow you away in self-defense when you wake up look around do some math and realize there isn’t a now before that is even stated to yourself in your behind-your-face dark space you are gone.Doorswing after doorswing. Can’t know some things. Sulfur. Why do you need this explained so precisely sweet ninny? Scarred hardwood. Some things can’t be known yah so—where is she now. Not to think but to feel feels better to do that only because. Sure ‘nuff I’ll have a few Oreos for lunch. Why because don’t say because. Mouse went to the cabinet and found the cookies did not exist in this present. Because because. He was confused thinking that a present three days ago could be pulled forward to now to make there be cookies again even though they ran out three days ago and none had been bought since—a kind of metaphysical Whole Foods Mart. Because. And the cookies would be transformed in their journey from Oreos to some naturally tasteless porcelain-looking big fat rock-hard pucklike artifacts impossible to eat. Clock hung up. Over it are nineteen after which the Qur’an described the number nineteen as being a trial for those who disbelieve. So this trumped the need for lunch in the face; thus Mouse decided to skip lunch too but before his head knew that the phone rang and that replaced the lunch as the new moment pulled up back and slid over picking up the phone to his head saying Hey, Mouse. Got the message why the hell should I wish you luck? I really wish you’d fail as a matter of fuck! Then I could laugh you down to a nothing-nub hey you fat shit! Are you feeling nervous? I surely hope so. Hey you there?

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