Cosmic Vomit

¡BOOM!

An enormous explosion sucked all of the salt from the rim of my nose.

The ass-kicking our parents were going to give us would register at least an 8 on the Richter Scale. Michelle’s experiment had caused the living room table to get up and leave the house in a huff. And just the threat of an ass-kicking from our dad made the couch turn gray in every direction.

When the fire in my ear became too expensive for me to describe, I started to grin.

A raven flew over with a rude sort of a smirk on its dirty, and creviced carcass.

Mom, Dad and Michelle walked up to me. Great. I was going to have my ass parted-out and handed to me.

-You’re the one making all of that goddamn noise, ¿ain’t’cha Al? -My mom asked, as if the rain had dosed her under.

-I’m fine, thanks -I grunted sarcastically-. ¿What happened? ¿Did Michelle blow something up?

-¡Surprise! -Dad recanted-. We’re going to celebrate your ass-kicking with complete strangers.

-Come on, ¿what gives? -I said, putting the rope around my neck.

-Don’t stop him this time -Michelle said.

-¿What the go-go-girls are you talking about?

I hated to admit it, but I was odious. But I was odious in a way that was more Confucian than it was William Shattern.

-The watch is so you’ll know what time it is -Mom explained and started hissing like a ladder. Next to her, I look like I’m sleeping.

They gave me a black jacket with the words THE FUTURE IS SCIENTIFIC embroidered on it in big red letters.

-Welcome to the marvelous world of not understanding a fucking thing, Al -Dad said-. Here’s ten bucks if you promise not to mention anything emotional or 7^th Day Adventist.

I looked into my crystal ball and started squirming. It told me that I’d better get in the swing, pal, get in the swing, with every body and every thing.

-Michelle tried to blow up the house because she wasn’t prepared to blow up her self -Mom said-. She wasn’t preoccupied, she just doesn’t know her ass from an anthill.

-As much as I’d like to thank you, Mom, Dad -I murmured-, I can’t. I hate both of your freaking guts. You’re so… so...

-¿Stimulating? -Dad offered.

-That ain’t the word I was looking for -I said.

-¿What word were you looking for? -Mom asked.

-Mealy mouthed -I migrained.

I didn’t want to be resentful, but if I had a nickel for every time these idiots gave me a watch…

I guess I’d said out loud what I should have kept bottled-up inside.

Treachery is the poor person’s deception, like taking a casket, filling it with water and saying it has a new interior. But when you fill your anger up with water, Dad stops holding your hand.

-You’re a total piece of shit, Al -He told me, hitting me up side the head with a sugar cube.

-That’s probably because you’re such a sober, calming influence on my life, Dad. You sustain me when I can’t stand my self.

-Shut up or I’ll cut your jugular -Dad announced-. Michelle doesn’t use language like that. She blows stuff up and she takes responsibility for it.

-Yeah, her and your mama -I said.

-¿How many times have I told you not to disparage your grandmother? -Dad contested-. And Michelle knows you’re a bastard. We all do.

-Michelle planned that explosion -Mom announced-. She wanted to be able to see more of the desert and to wish you a happy birthday, at the same time.

I didn’t know what to think. Still, nothing surprised me anymore.

-You bastards are always talking shit to Michelle, when you should be doing something useful -Mom continued.

-That’s not fair -I responded, confident that the joke wasn’t on me for once-. It’s true, just not fair.

What was fair was me being a piece of Metamucil in the colons of those I loved most. That, or I was just having a good time.

I decided that I was having as desperate a time as I’d ever had.