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Millard Kaufman's final novel has arrived!
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I will sedate you with a drug used for sedation, then I will remove your eyes, and insert two small sparrows into the house that is your skull. Then I will replace your eyeballs, careful to see that each eye is returned into its proper respective hole. You will awake thinking nothing has happened. You will feel right as rain. Speaking of rain, friend, spring approaches, and the songbird sets about her singing, to attract mates. The male bird finds the female bird, and then the two birds make love, many times. The female lays her eggs and sits on them, to keep them warm. When the chicks hatch, it will get weird for you. - - - - I will shine your shoes until they become progressively shinier and blind you. Then, while you are blind, I will take all your possessions and donate them to the homeless, and replace your possessions. For example, if you had a cup, then I would replace that cup. If that cup was purchased from Pier One Imports, then I would get you a newer cup, also from Pier One Imports. It would be extremely confusing to you in your blinded state, and there would also be knives. Moving around your apartment, filled with all of my carefully chosen furniture, and knives, you will grow frantic, and begin to flail your hands. Then you will fall down on one of my knives and cut yourself very badly. In your stupor of pain, you will cut yourself a second time. - - - - I will make a small caged enclosure and fill it with albinos who prefer tight clothing. I will provide the albinos with needles, and thread. Then I will build an oasis. I will dress you in oversize clothes, and drop you into this oasis, in the company of the albinos, who will be instructed of your blindness. They will drug you. While you slumber, they will remove your clothing and alter it. When you awaken, you will notice no change. The albinos will take their time. You will make meals with the albinos, and lounge about the oasis. At night, however, the albinos will drug you and take in your pants. It will go on like this for many years: You will awake, and then the albinos will drug you, and set about their altering. Then you will be in tight clothes. - - - - I will cut off your feet, and rub them with oil. I will make a short dough (a short dough is a dough with a lot of butter in it), and wrap each of your feet in this dough. Then I will bake my pies at high temperatures. While I wait, I will pour myself a glass of wine and enjoy it. Then several of my associates and I will cauterize your stumps, and you will serve us your feet, with vegetables, on platters. We will delictate over them. Afterwards, you will do the dishes by hand. - - - - I will get you a job at my diner, where you will be known as Scrub. While in my employ, you will meet a man, Arthur, who will please you with his personality. When I take Arthur away in my helicopter, the two of you will be allowed to communicate only by phone. Arthur is the only man who will have you, and he — while attractive to many — is all alone except for myself and this phone. The two of you will stay up late nights arguing and fighting about who loves who the most and who has the least experience and who is the most wide-eyed in general with respect to the world and then I will cut the phone lines. When I call you to tell you that I have killed Arthur, Arthur will have no way of telling you that it is a lie. This, friend, is what it sounds like when doves cry. - - - - And finally I will hire you at my video store. All day, I will call you, and say nothing but "Hola." You will say, "Hello?" and I will say "Hola." You will say "Who's this?" and I will answer "Hola." Some days, I will wait a while before I call. You will think, "Maybe Amie won't call me today. Maybe I'm forgiven." Then the phone will ring. You will pick up the phone, and I will say, "Hola."
OTHER McSWEENEY'S STORIES:
Mother's Day Special: Brunch With Mother By Alysia Gray Painter Norse Legends Reference Pages By Kevin Guilfoile From the Found Notebooks of the Members of Homer's Writing Group By Sean Carman The Porn I Like By Robert Benvie We Must Protest By Jim Stallard |
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