Friday, September 08, 2006

The Boy Who Wasn't Afraid to Die

He grinned at the sun, the strange boy who wasn't afraid to die, and he giggled great big frothy bubbles.

Stick a straw in a glass of red milk and blow hard into it, again and again, until crimson foam surges above the rim like surf and murder in a stormy cove.

That's pretty much what his mouth looked like as he lay there in the street, giggling out the evidence of hemorrhage.

And Sara Templeton, the girl who should have been my bride but who was only weeks away from leaving me for a riverboat gambler named Quinton Rodriguez III, tore her gaze from the dying boy and buried her face in my chest. Unaware, as of yet, that she wouldn't always love me I held her and tenderly stroked her hair and pretended not to mind as she snuffled grief and mucus all over the front of my favorite shirt.

A crowd assembled, like crowds do, and everyone decided they had important things to say. They stared at the dying boy and started screaming things like:
"My god, we must do something!" And, "How did it happen?! Who saw?!" And, "What's that thing we're supposed to try?!" And, "Heimlich maneuver?" And, "No you fool, that's for choking!"

One guy in a dirty baseball cap claimed he knew how to make a defibrillator out of a cell phone battery and the wire rims from brassiere. And nine women were topless and several people were without their phones before someone noticed that the guy had his hand down his pants and wasn't really focusing all that much on the construction of a makeshift defibrillator.

And through it all, the boy continued to die and his giggles didn't subside.

And I asked the boy why he wasn't afraid. And he writhed and he bled and his lips turned pale, and he replied with his eyes that his love had left him for another and so how could anything frighten him now.

And then the boy grinned and died and I told Sara not to look. And I held her with both arms and thanked every god I could remember that she was by my side.

But then, of course, several weeks later she left me for a riverboat gambler named Quinton Rodriguez III. And after that, the things that should have horrified began not to bother me much at all.


(Dark Agony. Despair and Stuff. A Shambling, Lurching Sorrow That Just Keeps Getting Worse and Never, Ever Recedes...

What are those "tag" things that good weblog writers put on the bottom of their posts so that the Internet knows what kind of story it is?

And is: "A Shambling, Lurching Sorrow That Just Keeps Getting Worse and Never, Ever Recedes" actually a category? 'Cause if it isn’t it should be.)


At 1:04 AM, Blogger Lightning Bug's Butt said...

That's just awful. I mean the story was good. But some poor little kid dying in a milk glass -- jeez.

Hey, that wasn't Steve Irwin you were just writing about. Was it?

At 1:15 AM, Blogger Helga von porno said...

I love the on-lookers in your stories

At 6:34 AM, Anonymous ATD said...

Oh my goodness! What a tragedy. This could only have been the vile, misanthropic work of Kid Relish, for I remember one day when Kid Relish was walking around up here in the San Francisco Bay Area, saw me walking my dog, and thence proceeded to convince the curious canine that what he had in his hands was not, in fact, a vial of hydrofluoric acid, - against the best of my protestations. The vision of the giggling and frothing blood at the mouth of that poor child, bring me back hauntingly to that one momentous day.

By the way, I have noticed that there are many women in your life named "Sara". Are these different Saras who by a strange freak coincidence all happen to cross paths with you at one time or another, or are they some sort of hideous clone army of attractive young women designed specifically for the purposes of making you sad?

(And actually yes, Latigo. I do draw them meteorology comics. Heh... heheheh. I just hope I don't get labelled as a purveyor of smut. But at least my handle doesn't end in "Von Porno".)

At 7:21 PM, Anonymous amandarama said...

Latigo, if you're looking to make "tags" for Technorati, drop me an email and I'll give you the code and instructions. It's not hard, really.

If you just want to play tag, I'm very lazy and enjoy being indoors.

At 4:16 AM, Blogger Ari said...

I think A Shambling, Lurching Sorrow can also be found on page 117 of the Dungeon Master's Guide. It's cleaved even the staunchest of paladins in twain.

At 6:38 PM, Blogger hen said...

I am not afraid to die...

- no no wait I am not afraid of William Shatner.

At 12:05 PM, Anonymous Strange Forces said...

Here I was, thinking I'd get a MacGyver-style lesson in make-shift medical technology, and instead I hear about a pervy weirdo.

Well done, sir.

And perhaps another good tag would be "those things that harden the heart."

At 1:27 AM, Blogger talulah trashbag said...

You know I stopped by here before and was going to say something, but the sheer sweeping tragical beauty and unbearable truth of your story caused me to pass out onto my keyboard and lose control of the lower half of my digestive tract. (Please don't feel bad. This also happens on first dates and during some episodes of Gilmore Girls).

But now I've come to and I've washed up and just thought I'd have another read before I jfidaoieh;bnf;a/
.,,mmmm,sjjaofm 00N

At 1:26 AM, Blogger Latigo Flint said...

No LBB, it wasn't... unless of course it helps... in which case crikey yes, absolutely!

They're sheep Helga Von Porno. They're going to die unfulfilled... thirty or forty years after I die, to be sure, but unfulfilled all the same.

You seem to seem to be quite familiar with The Kid and his ways ATD. I'm truly sorry about that.
(Sara is every woman, and yet, she is only one woman. It's complicated. I promise to leave a note explaining everything just before I drink myself to death... it may be mostly vowels, you may have to fill in the consonants.)

Thank you Amandarama, unfortunately I'm not a good blogger. (And I can't ever seem to keep tag and high and seek straight either.)

See Ari, here's the worst part... I actually know exactly what you're talking about. You so better not tell anyone!
(Shambling Mound indeed... much shaking of heads.)

That is a spectacular comment Hen... for reasons I can't even quite ascertain.
(Common People is a magnificent song, I don't care what anyone says.)

Thank you Strange Forces. You know me too well.

I adore you of course, Talulah Trashbag. And I did even before you posted the greatest comment ever.

At 11:47 PM, Blogger AEDhub99 said...

I recently published an article on AEDs – here is a quote from it, in case you are interested:

Statistics give us more and more pieces of information that are bound to worry us, to make us react and change something if we can. More and more people and in earlier and earlier stages of their life die of a heart disease. Statistics, only in the US, are extremely alarming:
- Every 30 seconds someone dies because of a heart disease;
- More than 2.500 Americans die daily because of heart diseases;
- Every 20 seconds there is a person dying from a heart attack;
- Each year 6 million people are hospitalized because of a heart disease;
- The number 1 killer is a heart disease.
Although AEDs are not a universal panacea for all heart diseases, nothing else can compete to its major feature, that of actually re-starting the heart after it has been stopped by a sudden cardiac arrest. Under these circumstances is it necessary to ask you why anyone in this world, any family, in any home would hope for having such a device in their first aid locker?

If you feel this help, please drop by my website for additional information, such as Public Access Defibrillation PAD or additional resources on AED manufacturers such as Philips defibrillators, Zoll AEDs or Cardiac Science AEDs.




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