j
J is for jaundice.
For the jitters, the joys; for the background not being included.
They have moved me to another room.
The Matron and Mister Licky.
They did it while last night I was sleeping. Or thought I was.
For I was not.
I heard the castors of the bed, creaking as the wheels went all the way around, as the trolley rolled through the corridors of this old infirmary, this old infinity.
What a journey!
Out at last!
How long has it been since I saw the sea? And the sky!
They are beauties.
I should be happy, but there is only one problem.
The room is on the ground floor that faces the strand. Passers-by can see me. There is a large window.
I am on effectively on show.
A veritable circus.
Their beady-eyes judgementally hoping to catch an insight into the ignominious animal-man.
For that is what they call me, I have heard.
Animal-man.
But they are not the brightest themselves.
I’ll tell you how they are.
They press their eyes and hands to the window, Mouths agog and eyes agape.
Windowlickers.
Yes, I once was one of them. Concerned with all the trappings and debt of modern domestic life.
Fuck them.
I am free now.
I should show them my prick. That would give them a good laugh. Or cry. Is it not the same thing?
That would depend on the time of day.
Last night was awful.
—Look at him, they say. A man less free that us.
Less free!
I need more blankets.
On the fourth day of my new occupancy Mister Licky came by and gave me a hot cup of tea.
It was the first hot drink I had had in ages.
Absolute ages.
—Are you ready to talk?
Fuck off, I said.
—Now now. Be good. You don’t want to go back to the dark, do you?
I wanted to dash the cup and its hot contents off the side of his face. To watch him shout and scream and fall around the room. To laugh. What stopped me?
Physics, I guess.
—The Matron is willing, if you would be so kind.
So kind of what.
Yes.
Let it out.
—Your father.
Don’t mention his name.
—Your wife.
Hers either.
—Your child.
Ah yes.
I am a parent.
Thank you for reminding me. I had momentarily forgotten.
Naturally.
Pull your pants up!
I brought life into this world because I was not content with my own. The whole horrible cycle beginning again for the billionth time, with no greater or lesser certainty as to the reason why it all continues to play itself out relentlessly.
From the monkeys to money-makers.
—Would like to talk?
Would you like to fuck off?
Of course I didn’t say this. I was too afraid.
Of going back to the dark.
Mister Licky has an awful temper. When unleashed it is an unstoppable force of blind and merciless brutality.
He bent towards me and licked my forehead.
Lick!
One more, I thought. One more fucking lick. If only I had a fork. I would
—You like that, he said, with a little sanguine laugh trickling off his hairy tongue.
Of course.
Someone else’s saliva dribbling down my face. Of course I do! Who wouldn’t?
—Oh yes!
Prick!
Would you be well?
Go on!
Slam the door behind you.
I do not like this new room. It gives me the shivers. Cold sweats. I feel I will through myself at the glass at any moment.
In the morning they are there, bold as brass, right as rain, staring in at me: Dante's fucking children.
Their little ferret eyes upon my face.
Let them look.
Children and all.
Our age is no worse that its previous counterpart.
Neither darker nor brighter.
