Who Says?

“Is not.”

“Is so.”

“Is not.”

“Is so.”

“Who says?”

“Tommy Myers said his brother’s collage professor read it out loud in front of the whole class.”

“Hmm, well maybe … but I don’t see how it would fit … Do you think we could go down to the creek?”

“MOM! We’re going to the creek. One time Jess and I caught a crawdad and pulled its claw off and hooked it up to a shocking machine and made the claw open and close with electricity.”

“Whoa! … What kind of shocking machine?”

“Well it was an electronics kit that my brother put together that could shock you.”

“Why would anyone want to be shocked on purpose?”

“'Cause it was totally cool! That’s why. You hold a metal rod in each hand and turn up the pulse rate until your hands start jerking and twisting and you couldn’t let go even it you tried.”

“…Where is it now?”

“Uhh…It’s laying in the driveway all rusted.”

“Oh … Do you like pimento cheese sandwiches?”

“Hell yes! I’ll get my Mom to make us some when we get back. She puts extra mayonnaise on ‘em. Then we can sneak in to my sister’s room and steal some pot. Her boyfriend buys an ounce every week and I take some when ever I want.”

“Don’t they notice?”

“Not as long as you don’t take too much. If you get greedy, you’ll get caught. But even then, they would think it was Jess ‘cause they don’t know I smoke. I told them I was afraid of it.”

“Didn’t they laugh and make fun?”

“Yeah, Kenneth punched me in the stomach and said I looked like a shark … But I'm the one laughing every time I take some of his pot that he has to flip burgers to pay for.”

Pickle Named Nose (and Onion)

Chapter 1 - Inside

Pickle Named Nose and Onion lived in a glass jar on the second shelf of a refrigerator on Lexington Avenue. Onion was warm-natured and liked to sit down a lot. He really enjoyed living in the cool brine made from vinegar and sugar. His favorite activity was watching the mold grow on cheese.

Pickle Named Nose liked adventure. He wanted to travel and see the world. He often daydreamed of being a bus driver on a big city route and stopping for spaghetti and croutons on the way home from work.

Pickle Named Nose had a great idea.

“Hey Onion, I have a great idea”, said Pickle Named Nose.

“Oh no”, sighed Onion.

You see, Pickle Named Nose was famous for having "great ideas" – like the time he took Steve Pegram, the eighty-pound Lab for a walk with Jellyfish and Toaster - or when he insisted that he and Onion fly a helium balloon to celebrate Melana Melor’s second birthday.

Onion pleaded, "Oh c'mon man, I just want to stay at home today and maybe go swimming in the Kool-Aid or something. I don't want to hear anything about any great ideas. I don't want to go on any adventures. Can't we just hang out here with the Lemons today?"

Pickle Named Nose appeared to give Onion’s plea the utmost consideration. He gazed thoughtfully upward wearing his thinking face. After considerable time, Pickle Named Nose became suddenly animated and yelled, "Here comes the Mom to get milk for the Cheerios. It's now or never!"

And with that Pickle Named Nose bounced off the sponge cake, slid down the soup tureen and wriggled across the raspberry Jello to the bottom shelf of the fridge and flopped out onto the kitchen floor like a flounder on a fish boat.

"C'mon Onion", he whisper-yelled. "Let's go!"

Onion was reluctant to go on any adventures with Pickle Named Nose. But he was even more reluctant to let Pickle Named Nose go on any adventures without him. Onion had rescued him from certain disaster more than once and today was a day just like any other day.

Onion, being more wide than tall, was not as athletic as Pickle Named Nose, who was more tall than wide. He slipped on the rim of their jar and dropped like a rock toward the floor.

Hitting the floor at full speed from the second shelf would've been unpleasant, but just as he was almost there, the Mom shut the refrigerator door, squishing him which was even more unpleasant.

Onion made a noise like, "Pffft" and leaked some juice on to the floor.

The Pop came in and immediately questioned, "Why is the refrigerator door opened?" This type of question customarily went unanswered as the Pop looked around inquisitively with his hands turned up and eyebrows raised.

Pickle Named Nose used this opportunity to pull Onion from sight under the fridge with the Dust Bunnys. They both knew they could not make the slightest sound. They didn't even breathe.

You see, if the Pop saw any food unattended or not in its container, he would eat it immediately, and ask questions later. They knew that to a Pop, a pickle goes perfectly well with cereal and that a little thing like dust and hair on a squished onion was scarcely an inconvenience. They had even heard of some bizarre urban legend called the three second rule.

Just then the Pop stepped in the onion juice, which soaked thoroughly into his sock. He muttered some language that Pickle Named Nose and Onion could not understand and then slowly closed his eyes while lowering his head. He slowly shook his head in defeat, making a noise like Lurch, then turned and went back to bed.

Onion regarded the Dust Bunnys, who were a bit uneasy about the unexpected intruders during their breakfast. Onion pat Little Baby Dust Bunny on the nose and said, “Good morning, Little Baby Dust Bunny.” Mrs. Dust Bunny tried to smooth things over by asking, "Would you two like to join us for breakfast?"

Onion immediately shook his head up and down, while Pickle Named Nose quickly scrutinized the breakfast items: a big bowl of dust and side dishes of hair and dead skin, and apparently a bug leg for dessert. “Uhhhh, no thanks... We’re off on another adventure!”

The Mom and Melana Melor were ready to walk out the door for Briar Rose Home Nursery. Luckily for our adventurers, the back door was right next to the refrigerator.

Pickle Named Nose was poised in sprint position, ready to run like the wind at a moment's notice. He knew that the screen door had an Old Spring with a bad disposition that would slam prematurely on anybody that pretended they weren’t in a constant state of urgency. He knew that the Mom would not politely hold the door open for a pickle or an onion. He also knew that if he didn’t hold on to his hand, Onion would get squished like a Grape. Again.

The thick wooden door was opened, and Pickle Named Nose was set to strike. The Mom stopped to zip up the child’s knitted sweater and put on her knitted cap. Melana Melor looked down and seeing Pickle Named Nose and Onion off on another adventure giggled and made a snort like a pig. Onion looked back with wide eyes, smiled and waved his fingers with his hand right next to his face.

Then the screen door moved, and Pickle Named Nose shot through Melana Melor’s feet in a serpentine pattern like an Olympic ice skater, dragging Onion wildly behind him. He frantically searched for a hiding place lest they be discovered by the Mom.

They hid securely behind Sarah the Cat’s food bowl, Pickle Named Nose panting dramatically for effect.

Jaden Church (Part 1)

Jaden Church was born blue as the sun rose pink on Arlington, Virginia. His mother was dead by sun set. The doctor had little motivation to save her as she had no insurance and the family clearly could not afford the expensive and protracted life-saving techniques. There were many insured patients in line for hip replacements.

The nurses began working devotedly with the baby, but the doctor shrieked impatiently that they were wasting time. The shriveled, blue thing was wrapped submissively in a towel and designated for the trash. The grandmother was led from the room and told by the doctor that sometimes God’s plan is not for us to comprehend. He left her alone in the corridor as the intercom belched more important matters.

The old lady stood blank in the long hall for some time, invisible to the underpaid workers rushing by. Jolted from her stupor by a bump to her hip, a nurse impulsively begged forgiveness while rolling a large stretcher past. On top lay a soggy hospital towel concealing its ugliness from the sanitized world. The nurse parked it near some stainless steel doors and rushed off. Instinctively, the old lady grabbed the soggy lump and walked indifferently out the door.

When she got to her car, she laid the package on the worn seat next to her. The door creaked loudly as Maribel tried fruitlessly to shut out the blowing cold. She drove toward her estranged husband, who would not go to the hospital and so did not yet know that his only daughter was dead. At a stoplight, she was surprised to see the towel move. She opened the towel and saw for the first time the sunken face of Jaden Church.

Maribel was tired and could find no love in her heart for this blind runt that was probably retarded. She would not have even taken the baby if she thought it was alive. She had only wanted to make a point. She looked disgusted out of the cracked window and was unconsciously struck by the beauty of the dormant grasses and bare trees along the rural highway. The tall grasses that had crawled out of reach from the industrial mowers were an inimitable bronze-sepia color, encircled by the golden clumps of its mowed cousins and interspersed with the black, leafless branches of native brush and small trees. Together with the red clay and thick fog surrounding the scene, a most beautiful painting by the greatest artist in the universe was on exhibition for all eyes that see. A car honked and drove her forward.

The house was crooked and plain, yet in a “respectable” neighborhood. There was a couch on the front porch with various board games and books keeping it from realizing its duty. The screen door had not yet been fitted with its seasonal storm window and waved languidly in the wind. Maribel entered the kitchen to find the house a bit warmer within than without. She shut the door with her shoulder as she called to her husband.

“Joe, you need to come meet your…grandchild.” He was in the basement “studying”. After a lengthy silence, the sound of despondent footsteps echoed up the barren stairwell. He slowly navigated the corner at the top of the steps into the small kitchen. He kept his head down even after he was done with the steps and shut the door without a sound.

Joe was gray. His hair was gray, his skin was gray, and his eyes were gray. No color could whittle its way through his soul into the physical world. On this day, even the sweat pants and t-shirt were gray. Squinting through his thick, framed glasses covered in dandruff and greasy smudges, he managed, “Where’s Martha?” His wife’s only answer was a harsh look of accusation and disbelief.

He returned his gaze slowly to the floor and drifted habitually into the bathroom where he stayed for three days.

*****
Joe was awoken early Sunday morning to the sound of a crying baby. He walked warily and confused toward the sound, peering in the dim rooms as he passed. The baby lay on the floor in the living room next to the broken TV. It was naked and purple from crying. The carpet near its bottom was soiled with a black tar-like substance which led predictably to the baby’s anus. A fountain of urine rose unexpectedly from a curiously large penis. This made Joe laugh.

He carefully picked up the baby and walked leisurely to the kitchen sink, where he cleaned the baby attentively with dishwashing detergent and napkins amid the dirty dishes. He laid the baby to dry on the kitchen table while he made himself a pickle-loaf and cheese-food sandwich with a glass of homogenized milk. The baby continued to cry.

At some point, it occurred to Joe that the baby might be hungry. He held his sandwich to the baby’s mouth, but it just kept crying. He tore a piece off and gave it to the baby, but that just made it worse. The baby began to choke and wheeze. As he cleared its mouth, he noticed it had no teeth. Joe gazed up to the stained ceiling tiles in laborious thought while scratching his stomach.

Suddenly, he took a bite of his sandwich and a sip of the milk. Chewing methodically, he leaned over the baby and began to drool the mixture into the baby’s gaping mouth. Initially, the baby choked, but in time – either out of gratification or desperation – it swallowed some of the substance.

After breakfast as the baby slept on the table, Joe put on his Sunday suit and modified his hair with his good hand. As he looked into the mirror, he saw the face of a man who had done something. He felt useful for the first time in a long time. He vowed to himself to not make the same mistakes this time around.

Then he turned off all the lights in the house, wrapped Jaden in paper towels and a red and green knitted Christmas stocking, and walked out the back door toward The Bloody Church of Christ.

Jaden slept soundly all through his first sermon.