Resurrection

Chapter 10 : Return to Sender

Any sense of decency, morality and conformity to the benevolence of authority had vanished. My mind wandered and staggered blindly in the wilderness. The idea that I had felt that justice was served throughout my life was a fading whisper against the raging torrent of my own dissatisfaction. No one likes to be fucked with, especially on a daily basis. Some may feel a sense of dire depression that clouds their thoughts and allows them to shrink within their own collapsing identities. In my case, I was beginning to boil over again and my heart pounded its speedy rhythm, allowing adrenaline to surge through my lymphatic system. I was the pin-up model for anarchy united and willing to take any suggestion to improve my life through action. It didn't help that the brain-splitting migraines had combined with my hangover, making every illustrious noise feel like ear-rape.

I was having this moral dilemma outside Reading station, watching as people frantically paced around platforms, pressed on iPhones and unwrapped countless snacks: the sounds of the plastic peeling away produced deafening ripples inside my mind. Inside the waiting room on platform 1, a suave gentleman unravels his broadsheet paper and for once I start to settle down.

But I was having so much fun. You are adorable when you are angry. You need to keep this mood for your return to work. It will be glorious.

The mysterious dark angel on my shoulder was offering more advice and enjoying its time in the sun. I wasn't exactly startled at its evolution but incensed by my own raging angels.

The thought of work wasn't exactly thrilling me; a due sense of dread floundered inside my cortex. This working life wasn't exactly the experience offered on the website. I was really starting to think of home.

You can't return there. You remember what happened. There's nothing left.

I rang in sick, not wishing to reveal any of my incarceration details to Manager. He grumbled for me to make it back the next day. It was a busy day and all hands needed to be on deck. I'm sure he was smirking away the whole time. I was carefully considering a cutting way of saying fuck off, but the phone went silent the second I started.

I made my way back to our desperately quaint little village. I couldn't face the hovel of home so I ducked into the nearest tavern and shoved my face into a bloody Mary, hoping against hope that my readymade hangover cure could kick in. In most cases I thought self-medication was a horrible plan B, but I really could not care less at this point in time.

It would be safe to say that the bewildering ambience of the place was lost on me. An inebriated old man sat in the corner nursing his tin cup of lager and tending to the Alsatian he had brought for the company. He had that old bean tea look of beige morbidity oozing off of him.

This particular establishment didn't exactly worry about food hygiene laws so pets weren't an issue. Two rough, tobacco-laden tradies groomed over each other as they hollered out in unison at the LCD screen. Their favourite rival goalie missed the vital goal in a penalty shootout and they could not be more overjoyed. "Poofter! Goalkeeper....ooohhh...douche!" They gleefully sang.

I was too overtaken with problems and had my head squarely protruding from my anus; so much that I barely noticed the petite and pretty barmaid desperate to make flirtatious small talk. Still numb from anything else, I still managed to be polite but that was about it. We did, however, clink a few shot glasses together to relieve the boredom. With enough alcohol under my belt and a belly full of home-made steak and ale pie, I was ready to trek back to La Casa de Excrementos, my humble home.

Like a toddler taking his first steps, I was struggling to walk the straight line home. I couldn't help but notice that I had changed course and stumbled into the graveyard of the nearby church. I had nearly trodden over the mossy headstone of Mister Arthur Jones, when I saw a few headstones that spanned centuries, almost hailing back to the black plague. Even in times of misery, I could not help but feel amazed at the history of this place. I absorbed most of the headstones before feeling a frosty chill slick down my neck. I breathed a few puffs of ice mist and tried to find my way out. Almost at an unseen master's call, Cujo, the feral bullmastiff came hurdling towards me. Like its namesake from the Stephen King narrative, it was like a demonic hell-hound mad for the feel of human scraps against its tongue. Heavy stalactites of drool hung from the corners of its mouth as it continued its charge. It knocked me down and pushed its snout at my leg. I felt teeth puncture through the denim of my jeans. I jabbed at its head but it still kept biting. The jab turned into a serious punch over its jaw. It turned and snapped its head back towards me, aiming for my neck. I desperately brought my hands up to protect myself but the strength of this canine was almost unholy. Dog saliva oozed over my face and I could hear an immense snarling sound. The deep growls combined with a bloody breath made this act seem horrific and I wondered if I would live. Primitive instincts began to swarm over my mind and stopped me from panicking.

Another rite of passage is just what you need. There are only ten more trials to go, my little Heracles. Send this thing back to its special hell.

I was trying to ignore the passenger but it was laying out a convincing argument.

It's fight or flight. Put Lassie down before it kills you and turns you into another embarrassing statistic. Is that all you are?

"No! " I yelled out to an imaginary audience. I pushed my elbow upward and got a hold on its neck, managing to throw the dog away from me. It was still cursing at me, barking and braying with all manner of menace. It came at me again but I managed to shift back onto my feet. The sweat was beading down my forehead and my heart was pulsing wildly as it bounded towards me. I frantically kicked out and collected its rib cage: the dog letting out a quick whimper before returning to its pre-set snarl mode. Cujo snapped its jaws back and poised to strike. It managed to clamp around my ankle this time and I felt an immense pressure along with a quick puncturing of skin as this mongrel bit into my flesh.

The next moment seemed like an ill-gotten blur, as I scrambled around for the nearest weapon I could find. Blood seeped down my leg and I started to go dizzy before my hand fumbled around and found a solid rock.

This is your time. Kill it before you lose your pathetic life. It wants you like a happy meal. Let loose your animal. You need to feed it; just like this thing is feeding off you. Stop holding back and kill it!

The overwhelming voice screaming from my insides, combined with the pulsing adrenalin surging throughout my body, created a primeval shroud of anger. There was no rudder, no sail, just a mighty wind of monstrous instinct. I could barely make out anything and it felt like I was vacant from my own ability to control anything. I considered my perspective, as if I was merely watching myself enact this horrendous scene. I let loose and soon I would take place in one of the most disgustingly heinous acts imaginable, as I snatched the rock and pounded away at this canine's brain. Blow after blow were rained down upon this creature and the snarls quickly turned to yelps but I could not stop. I was infused by all manner of anger, frustration, adrenaline and a vicious streak that was gaping with its own sense of primitive creation.

All that was left was a bloody fleshy mess and an empty vessel of a man crying and rocking backwards trying to silence the evil chanting inside his brain. I was no longer my Mother's son. I was more of a corpse than the bodies lying six feet under me. My soul was disappearing as I wiped away at the frost bitten tears shrink-wrapped around my cheeks. I barely noticed the bohemian cries of the dog's owner as I scurried away to my hell hole of a respite.

This is just how they all start Adam: first its pets before they move up to the human majors. You have taken a big step into a much larger world.

I could not answer my dark passenger at this time. All I could do was hope for sleep and pray for some peace and quiet.