| june - july 2007 Issue 12 |
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FICTION - 2007 Contest 3rd Place Winner
Suicide King
by Felicia Pacentrilli
She licks her finger and jams it in his ear. When he merely stirs, she sticks her finger back in her mouth and
burrows it under the moist flesh of her tongue until it’s dripping. Then she jabs it in his ear again and swirls it around.
This time Adon groans and swats at the string of saliva before forcing his eyes open.
“Wake up lazy, we’re going to stop soon.” Samantha laughs and shoves him before scooting back to her seat
beside Avery. They’re playing cards. Adon rubs at his ear with the sleeve of his jacket and casts her a glare of disgust
before turning away. He had been having a dream. Flashes of an old house he was trying to break into lingered in his
mind. A huge knife was latched to the door though, glinting red and guarding the entrance.
I bet you’re gonna live with Mom and Dad forever.
Yah Adon, you’ll never be able to get a job, nobody would hire such a lazy whiner.
He’d been doing pretty well so far though. He got his first job at the Italian supermarket two years ago, the minute he
had turned fourteen, and was still working there, just skimming minimum wage, but it kept him busy on top of all his
sports and school. Unloading pasta and olives, and slicing the fatty pink meats, it was a comfortable job and he
enjoyed the routine of his Saturday mornings. It was nice of his boss to give him these two weeks off; he knows they’re
busy right now, and a few of the older ladies were taking their vacation at the same time.
The train lurches forward, bouncing Adon in his seat. He feels a poke in the back pocket of his jeans, and he
reaches for his pocketknife, sliding it open and fingering the dull side of the blade. It wasn’t a Swiss Army knife; it was
an actual miniature switchblade, a 7-inch Italian Stiletto with a black acrylic handle. He found it convenient on vacations
for cracking open glass bottles or tough plastic, fiddling around with, or just picking at his fingernails. He liked to keep
them clean. His cousin Matt had given it to him when he entered high school, just in case. It was a rough place
nowadays. Adon’s Dad had given it to Matt, and now Matt had passed it back to him, not that Adon would ever use it. He
just liked to admire it. It was a classic, and it reminded him of wild motorcycle gangs of the fifties. Tough guys in
leather jackets with scruffy beards who just clicked their blades open and immediately commanded respect. If they
had taking a plane, it would have been confiscated for sure.
As the train crashes through yet another hole the knife pierces into his pointer finger, instantly drawing blood. Crap,
he winces as he sucks on it, trying to calm the sting. Matt must have sharpened it before he gave it to him. He should
have known to be more careful; the train had been like this for the past six hours. It kept pausing for passing trains,
and skipping over the many bumps and dents in the ancient tracks. His Dad had said it would be cheaper for the five of
them by train and he’d always wanted to try Amtrak. They were heading down the west coast, from Vancouver to Long
Beach, California. So far, it hadn’t been much of an adventure. He cautiously shuts the blade away and secures it back
in his jean pocket. Squeezing his finger and pressing his face against the window, Adon watches rows of decrepit
houses fly by, grinning from the side of the road. The wind is forcing itself into hanging clothes, and presses up into a
red robe and a pair of long johns. Streaks of copper and pink from the fading sun bleed into the horizon as the train
continues stumbling forward into the dusk.
An announcement crackles on, declaring they would indeed be stopping soon, in Salem, for the passengers to
stretch their legs and smoke. Some people had been getting restless, pacing the narrow walkways that connected the
carts and harassing the attendants as to why they were already behind schedule.
Adon’s stomach bubbles, reminding him he hasn’t eaten anything all day. His sisters had already devoured all the
snacks his Mom had packed and the food on the train was all prepackaged and probably laden with trans fats. A
singing, black man worked behind the counter of the kitchen and didn’t pause from reciting lyrics when customers
passed through. Adon had taken a glance at the hardened muffins oozing neon blueberries and the hotdogs sealed
under sweaty plastic and walked out. The man didn’t bother to look up from a particularly soulful Ray Charles rendition.
Back in his seat Adon sips tap water from a plastic cup that resembled the ones at his dentist’s office.
You have rat teeth Adon, why don’t you ever brush them?
You’ll never get a girlfriend when your breath smells so rotten!
Sure, they had been a bit yellow. In fact he had had gingivitis when he was only thirteen from a lack of brushing and
flossing, but after he got his braces off they improved considerably. He had purchased three boxes of Crest White
Strips with his own money. He used them all the time even though the effects of one box were supposed to last for
over a year. Girls always complimented his smile now.
The door slides open and his father walks into their compartment balancing two coffees and smiling. Adon notices
his moustache is speckled with crumbs. Suddenly, the train snags a particularly vicious bump and the coffees splash
down his chest. He curses as the boiling hot liquid scalds him, the blackness burning through the thin white shirt that
barely conceals his gut.
Adon rushes to offer the spare napkins from the seat beside him but his Dad throws them aside and stomps out,
slamming the divider shut behind him.
“Dad?” Sam calls, questioning after him, but he had already disappeared into the hum of the train.
They had been given the private family compartment, because there were five of them, six, if their cat, Cally, who was
shut away in her carry-on was included. The girls had insisted on bringing her. Most of the other people were older,
alone and working on laptops, or drooling into their shoulders. A few little kids were onboard, but they mainly stayed in
the movie room. They kept playing Alice in Wonderland. Adon hated that movie.
You can’t watch the movie with us, you’re not allowed.
We don’t want you. Go back upstairs. Why do you always want to stay with girls all the time anyways?
He would trudge back up the stairs without a word, sometimes pausing on the top step, out of view, but close
enough to still hear them and maybe even steal a glimpse of the movie. It’s not that he always wanted to stay with
them either. It was just that he was probably bored, or lonely at the time, and would have liked to watch the movie too.
The various girls in Gr. 10 and 11, who constantly phoned him and tried to make plans with him, always said he acted
tough, but was actually so sensitive and sincere. They found it endearing that he admitted to enjoying Grease and Dirty
Dancing, but he’d grown up with two sisters right?
Avery and Sam had dressed him up as a girl once. “Andrea,” they had christened him. They smoothed his hair back
into a gold headband, and squeezed his chubby body into Avery’s dress splattered in crimson hearts. They jammed
his feet into her shiny, plastic, red shoes, and took pictures with Mom’s old Polaroid. He would cut them up if he could,
but they said they would only reveal them at his wedding, if he could ever get married that is.
Adon glances over at his mother. She had been dozing for hours now, her travel blanket tucked in all around her so
that only the top of her head and her glasses were showing. Her thin tufts of hair were sticky and clinging to her
forehead. She didn’t want to come in the first place. In fact, she didn’t really enjoy going anywhere that would cost
money. Adon wondered if the coffee would have woken her and put her in a better mood; she hadn’t even noticed
though.
The girls were still trying to finish a round of Suicide King before the train stopped. It was a game they invented
when they were younger; the Suicide King was the wild card. They’d been trying to have a full game for a few hours but
the cards kept leaping over the edge of the table when they hit holes. They almost stopped playing after the last
incident the train had tossed them, but there was nothing else to do.
“Who’s winning?” Adon asks as he leans over his seat, wondering if he can possibly get in on the next quick round
or when they get back on.
“Shh, I’m thinking,” responds Avery. Sam was busy rearranging her cards.
Can’t you even figure out your homework? It’s so easy; I’m not helping you.
Just think about it for once Adon.
Adon sighs before standing up and stretching, his ribs poking through his shirt. He wants to find his father before
the train stops and make sure he was ok; it looked like a pretty painful burn. He grabs his toothbrush and whitening
toothpaste out of his carry-on, he might as well give his teeth a scrub before they stopped. Exiting the compartment, he
quickly decides against it, as the line for the washroom was seven people deep, and still piling up around the narrow
corner. Naturally nobody was moving, as one stall had been broken since the start, one had recently overflowed, and
the person occupying the third stall at the moment appeared to be shaving by the whir of an electric motor coming from
behind the door.
He would find an available stall in the next compartment. Adon climbs the four steps to the first floor of seats and takes
a look around. A group of three teenage girls in their pajamas were passing around a bag of pretzels and sharing a
coke. They looked a bit older than him and all glanced up as he passed, smiling. One bows her head trying to
suppress a giggle. He nods and keeps his head down. He pulls on the metal divider that separates the first and
second sections, and it slides open. He steps warily into the next compartment. He can see the tracks through the
narrow opening.
Don’t be such a baby Adon.
You go first, and then we’ll do it.
They didn’t of course. He had leapt from the garage roof into the garden. His feet got tangled and he had landed on
his stomach, hard. Spitting up a mouthful of dirt, he tried to stand. He was winded and could only roll onto his back
amidst the decaying compost and potatoes as his sisters shrieked with laughter. His mother yelled through the
window for him to get up and stop playing in the vegetables.
He finally finds his father drumming his fingers along the panes of a secluded window in the third compartment.
Adon sits down next to him. The stain on his shirt was still soaking wet. It didn’t look like he had bothered to clean it.
“Hey Dad,” Adon tries cheerfully as he sits beside him.
“We should be stopping soon,” his Dad responds after a moment, still peering out the window.
“Yep, looks that way.”
“Do you know where we are?”
“Umm, wasn’t Salem?”
“Do you know what state that’s in?”
“Ahh, I’m not too sure. Washington, right?”
His father shakes his head and sighs.
You’re so stupid Adon. When we were in elementary school, we got A’s on everything.
I can’t believe you said you want your name to be Dad when you grow up.
Jeez, he was just a kid. He thought ‘Dad’ seemed like a pretty neat name at the time. He had also wanted to
become a Tyrannosaurus Rex when he grew up, but hey, that hadn’t seemed to work out for him either. Language Arts
was never his strong point, although he was excelling in Math, Science, and Gym; the ‘boy subjects’, his sisters called
them. He had been on the honor roll for his whole first year of high school on top of playing soccer and football
competitively. The outdoor soccer season had just started two months ago and he was disappointed to be missing a
few games.
He was the top forward for his team, The Calgary Crowns. Just last week he had gotten a red card for roughing. He’d
even sworn at the ref and shoved some guy in the ribs before being kicked out. He was mouthy all game. His Dad had
patted him on the back after, and told him he played well.
Finally, the brakes begin to squeal, and Adon watched the people in the compartment ahead of them snatching their
bags and clamoring for the exits. Their driver announced they had finally reached Salem, but unfortunately they would
only have fifteen minutes as they were running a bit late. Adon stood and followed his Dad back to their compartment,
being shoved around and almost stumbling into seats as people elbowed their way past. The line up for the
washrooms had increased and Adon decided he would brush his teeth twice later on instead of waiting. Back in the
compartment, his Mom was still asleep, but the girls were busy smoothing on lip-gloss and fixing their ponytails.
“Are you ok, Dad?” questioned Sam as their Dad stepped towards his seat.
“Could we have some money for a snack, Dad? I’m starving’” asked Avery.
He reached into his wallet and thrust twenty dollars at them, telling them they better be back in exactly ten minutes. He
then slouched into his seat and pulled out his map.
Adon turned to follow the girls; hopefully he could snag their change and grab something decently healthy to eat.
Wisps of smoke hung in the cool air outside the train and only the vending machines were still open inside the dim,
crowded station. Adon caught up to the girls and came up behind Avery, tapping her on her shoulder.
“Hey, can I have…”
She jumped, screamed, and clutched at Sam.
“Ohmigod Adon! You scared the crap out of me! Why would you do that!” she was yelling at him with her particularly
high-pitched, frantic tone. The one she usually used to yell at him.
“Why are you following us?” demanded Sam.
“Yeah, seriously, why are you following us?” snapped Avery as she caught her breath.
Why are you following us?
Why are you following us?
He had walked in the direction they had pointed and ended up at the end of the games section. He stared at all the
gleaming boxes and picked out the ones he wanted to play with. Eventually, he grew bored and started searching for
his mother. He couldn’t find her, or his sisters anywhere. The aisles had closed in on him as his breath escaped in
shallow gasps and his vision had blurred. Finally, he had curled up into a corner and covered his face with his
upturned jacket. Someone tapped him on the shoulder after awhile, but he didn’t respond. He can’t remember the rest.
Adon takes a few steps back. The girls shake their heads and continue walking towards the vending machines. He
stomps off in the opposite direction. Two little girls are playing cards on the floor with their Mom. His mouth feels dry
and suddenly he can’t breathe. He pauses to try and catch his breath, but his head is heavy. He stops and stands in a
corner for a second, eventually dropping to his knees as he’s overcome by a wave of dizziness. He’s probably just
really hungry and dehydrated, combined with being overtired. Adon flips the bottom of his jacket over his head to block
out the noise and the smell and the people for a second. His knife jabs into him again, and he grabs it and flips open
the blade, clenching it tightly for reassurance.
Something squirms on his sandal. Squeezing open his eyes he sees a huge cockroach crawling over his foot. He
gasps and kicks his leg up, flinging the roach. The knife is heavy in his hands.
Eat it Adon, it won’t hurt you.
No, put it in your ear; it’s just a bug.
Yah, jam it in your ear.
Suicide King
by Felicia Pacentrilli
She licks her finger and jams it in his ear. When he merely stirs, she sticks her finger back in her mouth and
burrows it under the moist flesh of her tongue until it’s dripping. Then she jabs it in his ear again and swirls it around.
This time Adon groans and swats at the string of saliva before forcing his eyes open.
“Wake up lazy, we’re going to stop soon.” Samantha laughs and shoves him before scooting back to her seat
beside Avery. They’re playing cards. Adon rubs at his ear with the sleeve of his jacket and casts her a glare of disgust
before turning away. He had been having a dream. Flashes of an old house he was trying to break into lingered in his
mind. A huge knife was latched to the door though, glinting red and guarding the entrance.
I bet you’re gonna live with Mom and Dad forever.
Yah Adon, you’ll never be able to get a job, nobody would hire such a lazy whiner.
He’d been doing pretty well so far though. He got his first job at the Italian supermarket two years ago, the minute he
had turned fourteen, and was still working there, just skimming minimum wage, but it kept him busy on top of all his
sports and school. Unloading pasta and olives, and slicing the fatty pink meats, it was a comfortable job and he
enjoyed the routine of his Saturday mornings. It was nice of his boss to give him these two weeks off; he knows they’re
busy right now, and a few of the older ladies were taking their vacation at the same time.
The train lurches forward, bouncing Adon in his seat. He feels a poke in the back pocket of his jeans, and he
reaches for his pocketknife, sliding it open and fingering the dull side of the blade. It wasn’t a Swiss Army knife; it was
an actual miniature switchblade, a 7-inch Italian Stiletto with a black acrylic handle. He found it convenient on vacations
for cracking open glass bottles or tough plastic, fiddling around with, or just picking at his fingernails. He liked to keep
them clean. His cousin Matt had given it to him when he entered high school, just in case. It was a rough place
nowadays. Adon’s Dad had given it to Matt, and now Matt had passed it back to him, not that Adon would ever use it. He
just liked to admire it. It was a classic, and it reminded him of wild motorcycle gangs of the fifties. Tough guys in
leather jackets with scruffy beards who just clicked their blades open and immediately commanded respect. If they
had taking a plane, it would have been confiscated for sure.
As the train crashes through yet another hole the knife pierces into his pointer finger, instantly drawing blood. Crap,
he winces as he sucks on it, trying to calm the sting. Matt must have sharpened it before he gave it to him. He should
have known to be more careful; the train had been like this for the past six hours. It kept pausing for passing trains,
and skipping over the many bumps and dents in the ancient tracks. His Dad had said it would be cheaper for the five of
them by train and he’d always wanted to try Amtrak. They were heading down the west coast, from Vancouver to Long
Beach, California. So far, it hadn’t been much of an adventure. He cautiously shuts the blade away and secures it back
in his jean pocket. Squeezing his finger and pressing his face against the window, Adon watches rows of decrepit
houses fly by, grinning from the side of the road. The wind is forcing itself into hanging clothes, and presses up into a
red robe and a pair of long johns. Streaks of copper and pink from the fading sun bleed into the horizon as the train
continues stumbling forward into the dusk.
An announcement crackles on, declaring they would indeed be stopping soon, in Salem, for the passengers to
stretch their legs and smoke. Some people had been getting restless, pacing the narrow walkways that connected the
carts and harassing the attendants as to why they were already behind schedule.
Adon’s stomach bubbles, reminding him he hasn’t eaten anything all day. His sisters had already devoured all the
snacks his Mom had packed and the food on the train was all prepackaged and probably laden with trans fats. A
singing, black man worked behind the counter of the kitchen and didn’t pause from reciting lyrics when customers
passed through. Adon had taken a glance at the hardened muffins oozing neon blueberries and the hotdogs sealed
under sweaty plastic and walked out. The man didn’t bother to look up from a particularly soulful Ray Charles rendition.
Back in his seat Adon sips tap water from a plastic cup that resembled the ones at his dentist’s office.
You have rat teeth Adon, why don’t you ever brush them?
You’ll never get a girlfriend when your breath smells so rotten!
Sure, they had been a bit yellow. In fact he had had gingivitis when he was only thirteen from a lack of brushing and
flossing, but after he got his braces off they improved considerably. He had purchased three boxes of Crest White
Strips with his own money. He used them all the time even though the effects of one box were supposed to last for
over a year. Girls always complimented his smile now.
The door slides open and his father walks into their compartment balancing two coffees and smiling. Adon notices
his moustache is speckled with crumbs. Suddenly, the train snags a particularly vicious bump and the coffees splash
down his chest. He curses as the boiling hot liquid scalds him, the blackness burning through the thin white shirt that
barely conceals his gut.
Adon rushes to offer the spare napkins from the seat beside him but his Dad throws them aside and stomps out,
slamming the divider shut behind him.
“Dad?” Sam calls, questioning after him, but he had already disappeared into the hum of the train.
They had been given the private family compartment, because there were five of them, six, if their cat, Cally, who was
shut away in her carry-on was included. The girls had insisted on bringing her. Most of the other people were older,
alone and working on laptops, or drooling into their shoulders. A few little kids were onboard, but they mainly stayed in
the movie room. They kept playing Alice in Wonderland. Adon hated that movie.
You can’t watch the movie with us, you’re not allowed.
We don’t want you. Go back upstairs. Why do you always want to stay with girls all the time anyways?
He would trudge back up the stairs without a word, sometimes pausing on the top step, out of view, but close
enough to still hear them and maybe even steal a glimpse of the movie. It’s not that he always wanted to stay with
them either. It was just that he was probably bored, or lonely at the time, and would have liked to watch the movie too.
The various girls in Gr. 10 and 11, who constantly phoned him and tried to make plans with him, always said he acted
tough, but was actually so sensitive and sincere. They found it endearing that he admitted to enjoying Grease and Dirty
Dancing, but he’d grown up with two sisters right?
Avery and Sam had dressed him up as a girl once. “Andrea,” they had christened him. They smoothed his hair back
into a gold headband, and squeezed his chubby body into Avery’s dress splattered in crimson hearts. They jammed
his feet into her shiny, plastic, red shoes, and took pictures with Mom’s old Polaroid. He would cut them up if he could,
but they said they would only reveal them at his wedding, if he could ever get married that is.
Adon glances over at his mother. She had been dozing for hours now, her travel blanket tucked in all around her so
that only the top of her head and her glasses were showing. Her thin tufts of hair were sticky and clinging to her
forehead. She didn’t want to come in the first place. In fact, she didn’t really enjoy going anywhere that would cost
money. Adon wondered if the coffee would have woken her and put her in a better mood; she hadn’t even noticed
though.
The girls were still trying to finish a round of Suicide King before the train stopped. It was a game they invented
when they were younger; the Suicide King was the wild card. They’d been trying to have a full game for a few hours but
the cards kept leaping over the edge of the table when they hit holes. They almost stopped playing after the last
incident the train had tossed them, but there was nothing else to do.
“Who’s winning?” Adon asks as he leans over his seat, wondering if he can possibly get in on the next quick round
or when they get back on.
“Shh, I’m thinking,” responds Avery. Sam was busy rearranging her cards.
Can’t you even figure out your homework? It’s so easy; I’m not helping you.
Just think about it for once Adon.
Adon sighs before standing up and stretching, his ribs poking through his shirt. He wants to find his father before
the train stops and make sure he was ok; it looked like a pretty painful burn. He grabs his toothbrush and whitening
toothpaste out of his carry-on, he might as well give his teeth a scrub before they stopped. Exiting the compartment, he
quickly decides against it, as the line for the washroom was seven people deep, and still piling up around the narrow
corner. Naturally nobody was moving, as one stall had been broken since the start, one had recently overflowed, and
the person occupying the third stall at the moment appeared to be shaving by the whir of an electric motor coming from
behind the door.
He would find an available stall in the next compartment. Adon climbs the four steps to the first floor of seats and takes
a look around. A group of three teenage girls in their pajamas were passing around a bag of pretzels and sharing a
coke. They looked a bit older than him and all glanced up as he passed, smiling. One bows her head trying to
suppress a giggle. He nods and keeps his head down. He pulls on the metal divider that separates the first and
second sections, and it slides open. He steps warily into the next compartment. He can see the tracks through the
narrow opening.
Don’t be such a baby Adon.
You go first, and then we’ll do it.
They didn’t of course. He had leapt from the garage roof into the garden. His feet got tangled and he had landed on
his stomach, hard. Spitting up a mouthful of dirt, he tried to stand. He was winded and could only roll onto his back
amidst the decaying compost and potatoes as his sisters shrieked with laughter. His mother yelled through the
window for him to get up and stop playing in the vegetables.
He finally finds his father drumming his fingers along the panes of a secluded window in the third compartment.
Adon sits down next to him. The stain on his shirt was still soaking wet. It didn’t look like he had bothered to clean it.
“Hey Dad,” Adon tries cheerfully as he sits beside him.
“We should be stopping soon,” his Dad responds after a moment, still peering out the window.
“Yep, looks that way.”
“Do you know where we are?”
“Umm, wasn’t Salem?”
“Do you know what state that’s in?”
“Ahh, I’m not too sure. Washington, right?”
His father shakes his head and sighs.
You’re so stupid Adon. When we were in elementary school, we got A’s on everything.
I can’t believe you said you want your name to be Dad when you grow up.
Jeez, he was just a kid. He thought ‘Dad’ seemed like a pretty neat name at the time. He had also wanted to
become a Tyrannosaurus Rex when he grew up, but hey, that hadn’t seemed to work out for him either. Language Arts
was never his strong point, although he was excelling in Math, Science, and Gym; the ‘boy subjects’, his sisters called
them. He had been on the honor roll for his whole first year of high school on top of playing soccer and football
competitively. The outdoor soccer season had just started two months ago and he was disappointed to be missing a
few games.
He was the top forward for his team, The Calgary Crowns. Just last week he had gotten a red card for roughing. He’d
even sworn at the ref and shoved some guy in the ribs before being kicked out. He was mouthy all game. His Dad had
patted him on the back after, and told him he played well.
Finally, the brakes begin to squeal, and Adon watched the people in the compartment ahead of them snatching their
bags and clamoring for the exits. Their driver announced they had finally reached Salem, but unfortunately they would
only have fifteen minutes as they were running a bit late. Adon stood and followed his Dad back to their compartment,
being shoved around and almost stumbling into seats as people elbowed their way past. The line up for the
washrooms had increased and Adon decided he would brush his teeth twice later on instead of waiting. Back in the
compartment, his Mom was still asleep, but the girls were busy smoothing on lip-gloss and fixing their ponytails.
“Are you ok, Dad?” questioned Sam as their Dad stepped towards his seat.
“Could we have some money for a snack, Dad? I’m starving’” asked Avery.
He reached into his wallet and thrust twenty dollars at them, telling them they better be back in exactly ten minutes. He
then slouched into his seat and pulled out his map.
Adon turned to follow the girls; hopefully he could snag their change and grab something decently healthy to eat.
Wisps of smoke hung in the cool air outside the train and only the vending machines were still open inside the dim,
crowded station. Adon caught up to the girls and came up behind Avery, tapping her on her shoulder.
“Hey, can I have…”
She jumped, screamed, and clutched at Sam.
“Ohmigod Adon! You scared the crap out of me! Why would you do that!” she was yelling at him with her particularly
high-pitched, frantic tone. The one she usually used to yell at him.
“Why are you following us?” demanded Sam.
“Yeah, seriously, why are you following us?” snapped Avery as she caught her breath.
Why are you following us?
Why are you following us?
He had walked in the direction they had pointed and ended up at the end of the games section. He stared at all the
gleaming boxes and picked out the ones he wanted to play with. Eventually, he grew bored and started searching for
his mother. He couldn’t find her, or his sisters anywhere. The aisles had closed in on him as his breath escaped in
shallow gasps and his vision had blurred. Finally, he had curled up into a corner and covered his face with his
upturned jacket. Someone tapped him on the shoulder after awhile, but he didn’t respond. He can’t remember the rest.
Adon takes a few steps back. The girls shake their heads and continue walking towards the vending machines. He
stomps off in the opposite direction. Two little girls are playing cards on the floor with their Mom. His mouth feels dry
and suddenly he can’t breathe. He pauses to try and catch his breath, but his head is heavy. He stops and stands in a
corner for a second, eventually dropping to his knees as he’s overcome by a wave of dizziness. He’s probably just
really hungry and dehydrated, combined with being overtired. Adon flips the bottom of his jacket over his head to block
out the noise and the smell and the people for a second. His knife jabs into him again, and he grabs it and flips open
the blade, clenching it tightly for reassurance.
Something squirms on his sandal. Squeezing open his eyes he sees a huge cockroach crawling over his foot. He
gasps and kicks his leg up, flinging the roach. The knife is heavy in his hands.
Eat it Adon, it won’t hurt you.
No, put it in your ear; it’s just a bug.
Yah, jam it in your ear.