The Day I got Married.
4/21/2005 1:29:04 PM
And the dirty pig who shot and shackled me.
It was several minutes after I was shot in the head. I was sitting on the floor, my back against the wall. Caldwell was slouching in the EZ chair, directly across from me, drunk and grinning. The gun was in his right hand and the scotch in his left. We looked like a couple of rag dolls that some child had carelessly tossed. A stream of blood was trickling down my face from where the copper pellet had lodged. Thats when Hector came in, curious of course, to know what the racket was all about; for although the gun had made very little noise, I had stepped on some video cassettes and had fallen backward. The moment my intoxicated, lumbering frame had started to fall, Caldwells shot hit me directly in the forehead. The overall effect was dazzling to Caldwell. It pleased him greatly to see me thus shot down at the climax of my tirade. When I fell, the back of my head hit the wall leaving a soccer ball sized dent.
Hector came running in and sat up on his haunches.
Amigos! What in da hell is goin on here? He said. His antennae where flailing about working overtime trying to assess the situation. I looked over at him. Ive been shot. I said. Shot down by a weeping pig. My skull is cracked. Its over, Hector. Im done, Im through. Call my wife and tell her that I love her.
But senor, you are not married.
Oh...
Thats when the true pain began. A sharp invasive pain that shot up from my jaw and into my ear and head and neck. It was so intense that I began to cry and wince in quick blinding stabs of white light where no air could leave and breath came in short high pitched wheezing gasps which were the size of pennies and just as sordid.
Senor, do not cry, do not cry! Ill find you a wife. Ah! Mi Dios, Mi Dios! He exclaimed and began running around in circles in a complete panic for he had never seen me in this state before. He began calling for his wife! Matilda! Matilda!
Matilda came running out. Mi Amor, que es la problema?
I looked over at Caldwell to see if I could find a shred of remorse from the fucker, but he was passed out. His scotch had fallen over into his lap and gave the impression of a man who had pissed himself. Perhaps he had.
Matilda... He said. The two of them huddled for a conference which I could not understand because, much to my shame, I dont speak spanish. The last thing I remember where their antennae wrapping around each other. Thats when I passed out.
When I came to, I was lying on my side and Hector was in front of me rubbing my nose and yelling.
Huh? I said.
Senor! Say, I do! Say, I do, you fool.
I do?
Si!
I do. I said. A dull throbbing pain encased my entire head followed by a cascading variety of hell. Every type of pain available. Dull, sharp, pounding, stabbing, implosive, explosive, pervasive, topical, esoteric, erotic, deadly, searing hot and then cold: A world symphony of sundry languages, most of which I did not know, and all of it emanating from my jaw like some fearsome, constipated christian hell hound howling to the gods. I heard general mutterings and applause and as my vision came into focus beyond I saw twenty or so cockroaches in front of me and then one of them said, You may kiss the bride. And then the bride stepped forward, luminous and slow, a drop of honey, an amber jewel. She was young. This is madness I thought.
Im sorry, I said. Im not feeling so well.
Perhaps you should go to the hospital. She said.
I think youre right.
Would you like me to accompany you?
Oh no... but thank you... I like to suffer alone.
She came up and kissed my nose and then I heard the voice from before: you are now man and wife. This was followed by cheers and applause. I looked over and saw him. Congratulations. he said. He was a dark roach. Stout and jolly. The kind that like to eat the casings on electrical wires. Hector was dancing around in circles with Matilda. No doubt he saw this as a major coup for Cockroach, human relations. I turned to my new bride and asked her, What is your name?
Molly.
Well, Molly, I said, Its good to finally meet you but... Im not feeling so well.
Go to the doctors! Yelled, Hector who was followed by a mutiny of voices:
The infirmary.
The sick ward.
To the bastions!
The Hospital!
Thats were people go to die, Papi chulo!
The emergency room.
Fine, I said, with my head exploding. Ill be back. And then they all scattered. The last thing I heard was Molly, who yelled, Hurry my love, hurry! Thats when Caldwell dropped his glass and came to.
Swine! He yelled. And then: You should go to the hospital, you dont look so good.
I just married a cockroach, named Molly. You Bastard. You could have at least stayed sober for my wedding. I was sorta hoping for a best man and all that.
He looked at me and sniffled and then checked his glass before looking back at me.
I think that bullet I put between your eyes may have done some irreparable damage.
I think youre right. You cunt. With that I stumbled out of my apartment and headed for the emergency ward.
4/21/2005 1:29:04 PM
And the dirty pig who shot and shackled me.
It was several minutes after I was shot in the head. I was sitting on the floor, my back against the wall. Caldwell was slouching in the EZ chair, directly across from me, drunk and grinning. The gun was in his right hand and the scotch in his left. We looked like a couple of rag dolls that some child had carelessly tossed. A stream of blood was trickling down my face from where the copper pellet had lodged. Thats when Hector came in, curious of course, to know what the racket was all about; for although the gun had made very little noise, I had stepped on some video cassettes and had fallen backward. The moment my intoxicated, lumbering frame had started to fall, Caldwells shot hit me directly in the forehead. The overall effect was dazzling to Caldwell. It pleased him greatly to see me thus shot down at the climax of my tirade. When I fell, the back of my head hit the wall leaving a soccer ball sized dent.
Hector came running in and sat up on his haunches.
Amigos! What in da hell is goin on here? He said. His antennae where flailing about working overtime trying to assess the situation. I looked over at him. Ive been shot. I said. Shot down by a weeping pig. My skull is cracked. Its over, Hector. Im done, Im through. Call my wife and tell her that I love her.
But senor, you are not married.
Oh...
Thats when the true pain began. A sharp invasive pain that shot up from my jaw and into my ear and head and neck. It was so intense that I began to cry and wince in quick blinding stabs of white light where no air could leave and breath came in short high pitched wheezing gasps which were the size of pennies and just as sordid.
Senor, do not cry, do not cry! Ill find you a wife. Ah! Mi Dios, Mi Dios! He exclaimed and began running around in circles in a complete panic for he had never seen me in this state before. He began calling for his wife! Matilda! Matilda!
Matilda came running out. Mi Amor, que es la problema?
I looked over at Caldwell to see if I could find a shred of remorse from the fucker, but he was passed out. His scotch had fallen over into his lap and gave the impression of a man who had pissed himself. Perhaps he had.
Matilda... He said. The two of them huddled for a conference which I could not understand because, much to my shame, I dont speak spanish. The last thing I remember where their antennae wrapping around each other. Thats when I passed out.
When I came to, I was lying on my side and Hector was in front of me rubbing my nose and yelling.
Huh? I said.
Senor! Say, I do! Say, I do, you fool.
I do?
Si!
I do. I said. A dull throbbing pain encased my entire head followed by a cascading variety of hell. Every type of pain available. Dull, sharp, pounding, stabbing, implosive, explosive, pervasive, topical, esoteric, erotic, deadly, searing hot and then cold: A world symphony of sundry languages, most of which I did not know, and all of it emanating from my jaw like some fearsome, constipated christian hell hound howling to the gods. I heard general mutterings and applause and as my vision came into focus beyond I saw twenty or so cockroaches in front of me and then one of them said, You may kiss the bride. And then the bride stepped forward, luminous and slow, a drop of honey, an amber jewel. She was young. This is madness I thought.
Im sorry, I said. Im not feeling so well.
Perhaps you should go to the hospital. She said.
I think youre right.
Would you like me to accompany you?
Oh no... but thank you... I like to suffer alone.
She came up and kissed my nose and then I heard the voice from before: you are now man and wife. This was followed by cheers and applause. I looked over and saw him. Congratulations. he said. He was a dark roach. Stout and jolly. The kind that like to eat the casings on electrical wires. Hector was dancing around in circles with Matilda. No doubt he saw this as a major coup for Cockroach, human relations. I turned to my new bride and asked her, What is your name?
Molly.
Well, Molly, I said, Its good to finally meet you but... Im not feeling so well.
Go to the doctors! Yelled, Hector who was followed by a mutiny of voices:
The infirmary.
The sick ward.
To the bastions!
The Hospital!
Thats were people go to die, Papi chulo!
The emergency room.
Fine, I said, with my head exploding. Ill be back. And then they all scattered. The last thing I heard was Molly, who yelled, Hurry my love, hurry! Thats when Caldwell dropped his glass and came to.
Swine! He yelled. And then: You should go to the hospital, you dont look so good.
I just married a cockroach, named Molly. You Bastard. You could have at least stayed sober for my wedding. I was sorta hoping for a best man and all that.
He looked at me and sniffled and then checked his glass before looking back at me.
I think that bullet I put between your eyes may have done some irreparable damage.
I think youre right. You cunt. With that I stumbled out of my apartment and headed for the emergency ward.