DYSFUNCTIONAL

When do you say enough is enough and roll over and die?
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My bed sheets smell. My breath smells. My clothes smell. I haven’t changed my underclothes for a week now. I haven’t taken a bath for umm… three maybe four weeks, I guess you sorta loose count after a coupla weeks.
Here’s the thing you hafta to understand, the thing you hafta know. I don’t care! I don’t give a shit!
Somewhere the door is creakin’, somewhere the clock is tickin’, somewhere someone is being born, somewhere someone is getting the shit beat outta him, and somewhere a bitch is whining. On second thought, that’s not a bitch, that’s my whore uva moder releasing her coital outburst. I don’t know who is giving her all that high but I bet it’s not that lousy son-of-a-bitch Daniel O’ Connor, or so he calls hisself. But I know damn sure it is time for me to get outta my shithole of a bedroom and get going. My moder’s early morning coital outburst has been sorta alarm clock for me since I was a kid. The players, well at least one half of the players, change but the game is the same. Ain’t no mistake there.
I put on my favo baggy pants and haul my ‘suck me’ t-shirt upon on me back. They don’t allow this t-shirt at school but that’s all right for me coz I ain’t too crazy to go to school at da momen’. N anyway I don’t give a shit!
I hafta make haste coz my bitchy moder is gonna pop outta her room wrapped in one of her shawls and wish me good morning anytime now. With two of her extra-yellow teeth stickin’ outta her mouth and her balding head-which she makes an extra effort to hide under a wig- and her varicose veined legs which look almost like a pair of green bamboo sticks supporting a scare crow, my mother doesn’t exactly strike the image of the Virgin Mary. And right now I don’t have an appetite for anything less than the Virgin Mary herself. Man, I hate that bitch. I really do.
Down the stairs, through the hallway and out of the door.
Outside, the first thing that strikes me is the intense and disgusting smell of rotten shit and piss. It don’t take me long to spot the source of the smell, there’s a nice lump of yellow shit right in front of the doorway.
Fuck me Dawg! When will these people learn civiliseten?
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Maybe this is where I say enough is enough and roll over and die. On second thought maybe it don’t exactly tickle my fancy to kill my self by rollin on a pile o’ shit.
I haven’t eaten since noon yesterday and my stomach is with all its might reminding me of this. My mother, she don’t need no food coz she takes all her nutrient in liquid form, in booze form! And she thinks all the booze she drinks is enough to meet the metabolic needs of both of us.
With all the roaring and grumbling that’s goin on inside my stomach I can barely walk, but I have to.
Maybe the sloppy market at the end of the alley has something to offer. It always has.
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The thing with markets is that they have people. And the thing with people is that they are lousy, greedy. It causes them a lot of pain in their asses even to depart with a stale piece of bread that has been sitiin in their showcase for a coupla weeks, or a stick of sausage that has been rottin in their shop for the same time -half of it already feasted upon by assertive maggots and their pops and moms.
It’s next to impossible to get something by simply asking.
So I just borrow. Borrow is what ye gentlemen up there call stealin.
I scan the market and what I see doesn’t look exactly promisin. There are people everywhere. It seems like all the homeys of the town have gathered up in the market place to disrupt my search for food. A man is standin in front of me. He is wrapped up in an old and spotty jacket and a pair of pants that extend to a little more than his knees. He gives off a pungent smell of booze. After years of experience if I know one thing it is that men like the Boozy Bob here, standin in front of me, are trouble. I part ways with Boozy Bob and carry on my search.
Look right, look left. Look into the stall right under your face. Look. That’s the buzzword. In fact that’s the only word for now at least.
At last I find what I am searching for. The stall in front of me looks deserted. I quietly creep in and grab a packet of sausage a loaf of bread and (on my way out) a packet of Marlboro. They say good things always come in pair. And that’s what is happening. As I walk out, trying to be careful not to disturb anything I manage to knock off a can of milk. Out of nowhere, or so it seems to me, a pair of sturdy hands fall on my head.
How come the world around me is spinning so fast? And how come I feel only air in the place where previously my head used to be? How come the world is suddenly upside down? How come I see nothing?
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When do you say enough is enough and roll over and die?
The first thing I notice as I regain consciousness is that I feel cold. The second thing I notice as I regain consciousness is that I have a strong headache. The third thing I notice as I regain consciousness is that I seriously smell of piss. The fourth and the last thing I notice is that the piss is not mine, coz if it was mine the wetness in my clothes have to start from my dick upwards, whereas I am wet from my head and downwards i.e. my pants are not wet. Fuck me! No, fuck that bastard! That lousy son-of-a-bitch, it wasn’t enough for him that he knock me out cold; he had to piss on me! Fuck him! Fuck ‘im!
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Looks like I am seriously pissed, don’t it?
Is this when I say enough is enough and roll over and die?
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By the looks of it the time is already crossed 12. This means I am safe to go to the place that I call ‘crib’ and change into something else that smells a little less pissy than the clothes that I am wearing right now. But I don’t want to. I want to go to the river, that’s by the end of the market, and take a swim. I want to feel pure again. I want to be free of all the smells that relate me to the rest of the world and its people. I want to be free of all the bonds that bind me to the rest of the people. I want to wash away all the sins that bind me to the rest of the world.
The river. Just look at it. So pristine yet so turbulent. So steady yet so pure.
I shed all my clothes. They are what bind me to this hell. I shed all my needs and desires. They are the ones that make me steal sausages, loafs of breads and packets of Marlboros every day at the cost of loosing myself. I shed my all my loathing for my mother and remember her as she was once; pure and loving.
I am at the edge of the river. It’s not long now.
A One. A Two. A three. And a Go! Jump!
Fuck me!
I am six feet and the river is just about four feet. That means the water reaches just up to my waist. And that in turn means I can’t drown myself. The only part of me that’s getting any drowning action today is my fren Mr. dick and he too ain’t getting enough of the action or so it seems.
Fuck me!
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When do you say enough is enough and roll over and die?
You really wanna know? I mean, really?
Ok here you go….
RIGHT NOW!