Sunday, October 28, 2007

The Monster

"The Monster"
by Yossi Halperin



I was awoken by the front door being slammed open downstairs.

The footsteps made chariot sounds as they marched up the stairs. Told me what fate lay ahead.

I quickly threw the covers over my head, hoping to shield myself from the unwanted intruder about to enter my room.

I lay down and pretended to be asleep so that the intruder might pass over my bedside.

I knew deep inside that like countless times before no bed sheet no shield not even a peaceful sleep would protect me from what was about to happen, what’s gotta happen what will happen and has happened every Saturday at 8:00 for as long as I can remember.

The chariots stop at the entrance to my door and my door swings open.

“Max!!!”
“Max!!!”
“Get the fuck up”
“Get the fuck outta bed”

I lie perfectly still maybe he’ll go away. Maybe I’ll fall asleep. Maybe he’ll fall asleep. But I know that, that’s wishful thinking and this situation has only one outcome.

The chariots approach my bedside and a bear-like claw reaches down, grasping my shield, my protector, and I come face to face with a six-foot-two hideous monster, a daemon. A giant a monster.

The monster stares me down. His eyes pierce my body and my soul.

He’s a giant, a giant without a shirt, old pants and a long beard. In one hand he holds a Budweiser and in the other he holds a Marlboro.

“Max!!!”
“Max!!!”

Smoke blows out of his mouth like a dragon as he talks and he finishes the cigarette and lights another from the embers of the last.
“Stop staring and answer me”
“What, you want one”

He takes a new Marlboro out of the bright red package and lights it. Then he hands it to me.

“Take it”
“Smoke it”

I just stare. I don’t want to smoke. I don’t want to be like him. But I don’t want to upset him either. I don’t know what to do. I just stare.

“Take it”
“I don’t want it”

“You don’t want it?”
“Yes you do”
“Yes you do”
“Yes you do”
“You want to smoke”
“All good little boys smoke”
“All good pre-teen boys smoke”
“Open up for the choo choo”
He laughs as he brings the Marlboro to my mouth.

I push his hand away and the Marlboro falls to the floor.

“No good”
“No good”
“Bad boy gets treated as bad boy” he chuckles as he chews on his Marlboro.

He picks the Marlboro up and grabs me by my neck and holds me up. He then pushes the Marlboro towards my mouth. I try to resist I try to keep my mouth closed but can’t. My mouth opens and the Marlboro enters. He forces it between my teeth and smoke fills my mouth and my body and I find my self coughing and wheezing and I find him laughing. I manage to push him away and he burns himself with the Marlboro.

“Look what you did”
“You little shit”

He throws the virtually extinguished cigarette butt at me and it forms embers as it collides with my covers

I want to scream.
I want to cry.
I want to run.
I want to hide.

But all I can do is stare and that’s what I do I stare and stare and stare. I don’t know why but I do.

“Stop staring you little fuck”
“Answer me”
“What you want one?”
“Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
“I needed a ride from the bar I called you for a ride but you didn’t answer the phone.”
“Why not”
“Why, you little shit”
“Why answer me”

I’m used to this; it’s sort of the norm for me. Normal Saturday morning routine and I know that if I ignore him he’ll hit me and if I answer he’ll hit me. So I answer him.

“I was sleeping plus I’m twelve and I don’t know how to drive.”
“No, no, no good”
“Little fuck!!!” he screams.

He takes a slug of his beer and lights another cigarette and takes a long hard pull and exhales letting smoke and the smell of beer fill the room.

“You’re just a lazy fuck. Too lazy to pick and old man up. Too lazy to get out of bed,” he chuckles.

He then finishes his beer and releases a large belch and throws the can at me.
“Aw that’s better”
“Wise guy”
“You think you’re a wise guy”

He removes his belt from his pants and whips it against his hand that holds the Marlboro causing it to fall to the floor. He looks at the cigarette and looks at me.

“Look what you done now”
“You little shit”
He picks up the Marlboro which is still lit and takes and puts it to his face taking a final drag. Then he looks at me and smirks. He takes the Marlboro and presses it against my chest.

The Marlboro flames burn as they get extinguished by my body. The butt drops to the bed and eventually rolls of to the floor.

He looks at me and laughs.

“You little shit”
“Be a man”
“Be a man”

I stare at him and then start crying. I don’t know why I but I do. I know what gonna happen but can’t help myself I burst out in tears.

“I said be a man”
“Be a man”

He swings the belt around. He swings the belt at me hitting me in the face.
“You lazy fuck”

He screams as the belt collides with my back/

“Lazy”
“Lazy”
“Lazy”
“Fuck”

His shouts are followed by another belt whip. I scream out in pain and he bursts out in laughter.

I hold my tears in when it comes to being beaten. I’m no amateur at this I’m a professional. I know how to play the game so I can get the least hurt. After all we have been competing for many years.

“All lazy fucks”
“All boys are lazy fucks”

He hits me in the face.

I don’t try to crawl away. I try to stop screaming but I can’t. I know how to play the game but can’t. I cry hard and scream louder and try to get away.

He grabs me picking me up in the air and hits me over and over again. Blood trickles down my face and onto my chest. I cry harder and louder and louder and I beg and I plead and I try to stop crying but I can’t.

I jump onto him. I don’t know if I’m trying to tackle him or hug or hurt him or what. He throws me over his shoulder and onto the floor. I stare up at him and he stares back down at me.

“I’m sorry daddy”
“I’m sorry for being a lazy boy”
“I’m sorry for not answering the phone”
“I’m sorry for not picking you up at the bar”
“I will next time, I promise”
“I’ll pick you up even if I have to find a car”
“I love you daddy”
“You bet you will, boy.”

He screams picking me up even further in the air. He then throws me on the floor and sit there In very wet boxer shorts shivering on the floor in a small pool of blood. Looking at the man, looking at the monster, looking at my dad.

2 comments:

JoyBoy said...

This is a very good, well-paced story with a clear development of character through the plot. It holds the tension and delivers the pay-off at just the right moment. And of course it has interesting and strong emotional content. I hope to read more from you. Congratulations!

Gavin said...

Intense story. The graphic detail harmonizes well with the underlying emotional texture. A few minor spelling and grammatical errors, but writing is about getting it out. You let others feel your feelings, and that is a gift.