THE LIVING AND THE DEAD
by Noah Cicero
seven
Dave is in his kitchen.
Dave is an average white, working class man.
Dave doesn’t bother to think.
He doesn’t even bother to think about his absence of thought.
He is a constant reaction.
But he has survived and that is what matters.
Dave is sitting at the kitchen table.
His mother is across from him.
She is over-weight and wearing a nightgown.
Dave’s mother says to him, “You’re my little sweet heart. You know that. I love you so much. Mommy loves you.”
Dave says, “I know mommy. You love me.”
“You will never leave me right. You won’t leave me here to get dry fucked in the ass, will you? Like when you went to the marines and those guys came into our house and stole my Beanie Babies and Troll Dolls. Will you? Please protect my Beanie Babies and Troll Dolls Dave. Please.”
“All right mom. I’ll protect your Beanie Babies and Troll Dolls. I will always be here to make sure no one dry ass fucks you.”
“Did you swear Dave? You little shit. You know you’re not allowed to swear.”
Dave’s mom gets up, comes around the table.
She slaps Dave in the face five times.
Dave puts his head down, cries, and then runs to his room.
The woman sits back down.
She thinks about when she was 18. How cute she was.
How all the boys wanted to fuck her.
Even though no one did.
Dave falls face down on the bed.
He has posters of famous eighties rock bands.
There is a car bed.
It is a late eighties corvette.
The room is that of a fifteen-year-old’s in 1987 even though he was eight then.
After crying for five minutes his mother comes in to comfort him.
“Oh, Dave. It will be all right. Mommy is here to protect you.”
His mother sits down and puts her hand on his butt.
“Give mommy a kiss Dave.”
Dave takes his head out of his hands and kisses his mother the lips.
The more they kiss the more violently she plays with his butt.
She rubs his anus with her middle-finger.