The Place Where

by Rodion Pretis

  - Holy father! ..

  He goes under the harbor water, breaking its cold hard surface - an impression, he decides, a little akin to how if he jumped out through a very large window. Water envelops him, pours into his ears and gnaws his eyes.

  “We welcome this sinner that now joins the mystical body of Christ, and mark him with the sign of the Cross of Christ,” Connie says mentally, raising his hand and drawing a sacred plus on his forehead.

  He exhales; bubble by bubble rise to the surface.

  “Cornelius Dennis Monegan, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,” he concludes; and when a black wind flies through his head, carrying him to immortality, he realizes that he has never been happier.

  Bradley denton

  Thanksgiving Timmy and Tommy's Big Secret

  Timmy and Tommy were best friends. They lived on a farm in the Great Midwest with Papa Mike, mom Jane, dog Buster and dog Scott, a couple of piglets, several chickens and Burenka Mabel. Timmy was five years old, and he was Mike's dad and mom Jane, and Tommy was younger and he was an orphan. And even worse, he did not know how to speak.

  However, Timmy was not sorry for Tommy, because Tommy was just like a member of the family. Mom Jane said that he is Timmy's adoptive brother. Tommy even went out every morning with Timmy to the yard to watch how Papa Mike milked Burenka Mabel - and Papa Mike played with both of them, unexpectedly sprinkling trickles of milk in their face.

  - Ha ha ha! - laughed dad Mike. - Come on, more life!

  Then Timmy also laughed, and Tommy showed with all appearance that he was joining in the fun.

  And even though Jane's mother said that Timmy didn't have to take Tommy to sleep in her room, Timmy was happy to do it anyway. At night, after they lay in bed, Timmy and Tommy whispered secrets to each other, which they promised never to tell anyone else - the secrets about all the adventures that happened to them.

  And wow! What an adventure these were!

  They fought with pirates on the banks of the Dirty Pond ...

  They chased a bison on a grassy meadow ...

  They explored deserts that looked exactly like Rocky Wasteland ...

  And the most exciting of all - they climbed to the dizzying heights of the High Silo!

  More precisely, Timmy did it. Tommy always refused to climb the shaky stairs. Therefore, Timmy usually climbed up alone, and when he got to the very top, he looked down from there and shouted: “Tommy chicken! Tommy chick! ”

  At the same time, Tommy always looked very annoyed, and sometimes even with anger retired. Chicken, you have to! What an insult!

  However, by the time it was time to go to bed, everything was already forgiven, and Timmy, lying in a bed with his eyes open, whispered his secrets across the room, and Tommy listened from his mattress on the floor. And although Tommy could not talk like normal people talk, he sometimes still gabbled some kind of nonsense in response to Timmy's whisper. That is, it's Papa Mike who said it was nonsense, but Timmy was better to know! In any case, Tommy's gurgle sounded exactly like what Mrs. Krunholtz said in the church on Sundays when she rolled on the floor and “spoke languages” - but no one ever said that Mrs. Krunholtz was gibbering nonsense.

  One November morning, when it was still dark, Timmy woke up at the sound of a slammed kitchen door and the knocking of Papa Mike's boots stomping on a farmyard. Timmy was very surprised. True, dad Mike always got up early in the morning to milk Mabel - but he never got up so early. Timmy did not know what to think.

  - Wake up, Tommy! Timmy cried out, throwing himself off the blanket and grabbing his tiny jumpsuit from the head of the bed. “Let's go see what Papa Mike does!” Maybe we can help him with something!

  Tommy muttered something in agreement, and together they hurried down the stairs, almost tripping over each other with excitement.

  When they reached the kitchen, they found that Jane's mother was also on her feet. She put a large pot of water on the stove.

  - Oh great! - said mother Jane when she saw Timmy and Tommy. - Both have eyes burning and tail with a pipe, that's great! Today we have a lot to do!

  - why? Asked Timmy. - Why today?

  - Oh my goodness, my child! - exclaimed mom Jane. - But today is Thanksgiving! Come on, help dad Mike. The sun has already risen, and my whole family will be here, before you have time to blink an eye, so - come on, skipping!

  And Timmy and Tommy skipped outside, and then Timmy saw Mike's dad. He stood with dog Buster and dog Scott in a barnyard near an old oak stump, which usually served as Timmy and Tommy on the deck of their warship. Timmy immediately rushed there, Tommy hurried on his heels.

  “Yeah, there you are!” - exclaimed dad Mike, seeing Timmy and Tommy. “I thought you were going to sleep all day!” - And with these words, he grabbed Tommy by the legs and threw him on a stump.

  - Dad Mike! Cried Timmy. “Are you going to punish him?”

  “You could say that,” dad Mike answered. Then he pulled out a hatchet, which was hidden on the other side of the stump, and with one quick blow cut Tommy's head off. Tommy's head flew off to the side and plopped down in the mud, and his blood sprayed a stream from his neck directly to Papa Mike in his arms.

  Then the Baster dog and the Scott dog arranged a large dump. They fought for Tommy's head.

  “Timmy, take Tommy's head and put it in the trash can - there, by the barn,” said Papa Mike. “And if Buster and Scott get to her, they can choke, and then I have to go get a gun.”

  So Timmy lifted Tommy's head off the ground and carried it to the barn, and Buster and Scott followed, grabbing his heels.

  “Tommy,” Timmy said to Tommy's head, “what did you do that was punished?”

  But Tommy's head didn't even mumble anything in return, she just stared at Timmy with one brilliant black eye.

  “Timmy,” dad Mike cried out suddenly. “Come here, look at this soon!”

  Mike's dad's voice sounded excited, so Timmy quickly threw Tommy's head into the trash can and ran back to the old oak stump with all his legs. Running up, he saw that Tommy was walking on unsteady legs toward the house, leaving behind an uneven bloody trail. But pretty soon he slammed to the ground and remained lying there, twitching.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this?” - asked dad Mike.

  But Timmy did not have time to answer him, because at that moment the Baster dog and the Scott dog ran from the barn, snapping and biting each other along the road.

  - Faster, Timmy! - exclaimed dad Mike. “Take Tommy and take it to Mom Jane, while I'm talking to Buster and Scott!”

  So Timmy went up to Tommy and tried to pick it up while dad Mike talked to Buster and Scott. But Tommy was big and heavy, and Timmy had to grab him by the legs, just like dad Mike did, and drag him into the house with a drag.

  It was hard work, but Timmy eventually dragged Tommy to the kitchen where Jane's mother was waiting for him. Her large pot of water was already seething.

  “My goodness, my child!” - exclaimed mom Jane. - You smeared blood all over the floor!

  Then she raked Tommy off the floor and threw him into boiling water. Tommy's legs remained stuck outside and trembled slightly.

  “Why are you doing this, mother Jane?” Asked Timmy. “And why did dad Mike chop off Tommy's head?”

  “My goodness, my child!” - exclaimed mom Jane. - What kind of nonsense are you saying! She pulled on a pair of thick rubber gloves, pulled Tommy out of the water and slapped him on the sideboard. Following this, she began to pull out all his feathers from Tommy.

  “Doesn't that hurt?” Asked Timmy.

  “It would hurt if I were without gloves,” said Jane's mother.

  When Tommy was completely featherless, Jane's mother took a large knife and cut off Tommy's legs. Then she took out another knife, thin and shiny, ripped open Tommy's stomach and pulled out her intestines. She put them in a bowl and gave this bowl to Timmy.

  “On, you can take this to Buster and Scott if you want,” sai
d Jane's mother.

  Timmy did so. For a while he watched Buster and Scott fight over Tommy's insides, and then went to the barn. There he found Mike's dad, who was milking Burenka Mabel, and when he sat in the corner to watch, dad Mike sprayed a stream of milk in his face.

  - Ha ha ha! - laughed dad Michael. - Come on, more life!

  Ayla's grandmother, Uncle Avgi, Aunt Pearl, and cousins Fred, Earl, Cookies, and Put arrived a little later - they were all invited for Thanksgiving dinner. Tommy was baked so that it was golden and crispy on the outside, and after Mom Jane set it in the middle of the table, Papa Mike cut it into juicy, steaming chunks.

  “Give me a leg,” said cousin Fred. - This is the most delicious part.

  - Here it is! - said Cook's cousin. - Samos is tasty - it's the neck.

  “You're both wrong, kids,” Ayla said. “Nothing is better than a pretty chubby thigh!”

  “Breast is better for me,” said Aunt Pearl.

  “I would prefer a wing,” said cousin Put.

  - Freaks you all! - said Uncle Avgi. - As for me, then I lay claim to the stomach; here really is the best part! Did you remember to fry my stomach, sister Jane?

  - Well, there you go! - said mother Jane and brought Uncle Avga's stomach to Tommy on a special silver plate.

  - Umm! Om-Nom-nom! - Uncle Avga exclaimed and swallowed Tommy's stomach in three quick sips. Then he leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly at Timmy. “Well, now,” he said, “it is time for the magic bone!”

  - What is it? Asked Timmy.

  And Uncle Avga showed him. He pulled a bone in the form of a fork from Tommy, and grabbed one end, and Timmy grabbed the other, and then they both pulled. The little fork broke in half.

  “Your half is bigger!” Shouted Uncle Avgi. - Your wish will come true!

  “What did you think, Timmy?” Ayla's grandmother asked.

  “I thought that you would be bitten by rattlesnakes, and that you would swell and stink like Pansy's calf when he died,” Timmy said.

  And then mother Jane said that it would be nice if Timmy now went outside to play, and he did so. After some time, he wandered to the bin near the barn and pulled Tommy's head out of it.

  Timmy walked through the farmyard, carrying Tommy's head in his hands and thinking that maybe now he will finally be able to drag Tommy to the top of the High Silo.

  But then dad Mike came out of the house and called him:

  - Timmy! You can come back! We are eating pumpkin pie!

  Timmy did not want Papa Mike to find out that he pulled Tommy's head out of the garbage can, so he did the first thing that came to his mind, namely, put Tommy's head in his mouth, chewed it carefully and swallowed it. By the time Papa Mike approached him, nothing was left of Tommy's head.

  “There will be dessert now,” said Papa Mike. - And then each of us will say why he is grateful to fate. Can you come up with something for which you are grateful to fate, Timmy?

  “Yes, I can, Papa Mike,” Timmy said. “I am grateful to fate for not being adopted.”

  However, when they walked back to the house, Timmy realized that there was one more thing for which he was even more grateful to fate. He was grateful for fate, because he and Tommy now had one more secret, the biggest secret of all, and only two of them knew him.

  That was the secret:

  Whatever everyone else thought, the best part was the head!

  Nina Kiriki Hoffman

  Frantic breasts

  I was just a lone stub on the dining table of Life. Apparently, no one was ever going to try me.

  I sat alone in the cafeteria of our company that day when I made a fatal decision that changed my life. If Gladys, the boss's second secretary and my usual lunch companion, were nearby, this could never have happened, but she had been assigned to the dentist. Once alone with the on-board dish of that day (Spaghetti-O!), I began to look for friendly communication with the magazine, which I found on the same table.

  Following the first dazzling impulse of inspiration in my entire life, I tore out the last pages of it with the comic book Wonder Woman. “The insult that made Wilma a woman!” - that's what she was called. There was painted a narrow-hipped, flat-chested girl, buried in the sand and abandoned by her friend, who left behind the busty blonde over the edge of the page, leaving the girl alone in the company of crabs. After some time, Wilma dug up, came home, kicked the chairs and ordered Charlotte Atlas's brochure “From the roach to the dumplings in 20 days, otherwise we will return the money!” Wilma read the brochure and grew her breasts the size of a loaf.She regained her friend and repaid him, forcing him to be severely jealous, because, besides him, she picked up several hundred others.

  Imitating Wilma's example, I also ordered a brochure along with the equipment that came with it.

  When my brochure and pink-flesh-colored simulator were delivered, I felt vague concern. The text of the brochure was vague in several places. Some pages were repeated; there were no others at all. Feeling that a very uncharacteristic burst of enthusiasm for me could be weakened if I began to spend time demanding to replace the brochure, I plunged into the exercises described there (which I could decipher) and zealously performed them for the required twenty days. My breasts bloomed in lush color. Men in the streets approvingly whistled after me. The guys in our office raised their heads from the papers as I trotted past.

  I felt like a palm tree, first hand-pollinated. I began to receive packs of notes with invitations on a date. They pawed me, they thanked me, they amused me. I experienced a bunch of things that I had only read about before - and for the most part I liked all this from the first few times. The desert in which I spent my whole life has disappeared; everything I touched here, in the center of the mirage, seemed real, saturated, pulsating energy. I worked harder, hoping to make reality even more real.

  And then parts of me began to strike back.

  I lay on Maxwell's couch with my hands behind my head. He unbuttoned my shirt, then unhooked the front hook on my new huge bra, opening wide both of them. He kissed my stomach, then began to cover my whole body with light kisses, gradually moving up. And then suddenly my left chest twitched and hit him in the face. He was astounded. He looked at me suspiciously. I myself was amazed. I stared at my left chest. She lay where she was supposed to, gently swaying, like a Japanese floating flashlight in a quiet sea surface. Innocent Awaiting.

  Maxwell stared at me. Then he shook his head. He carefully looked at my breasts. Slowly, slowly, he began to lean closer to them. His lips crept up, folding for a kiss. Feeling a tingling sensation throughout my body, I waited for them to flutter on my stomach again. No matter how! Both my breasts shot up and slammed into him already in full.

  It took me an hour to pump it out. After I brought him to consciousness, he told me to get out! There - along with my unnatural snap! I took my purse and coat, cast a last look at him - he was still lying on the floor near the sofa - and left the apartment.

  In the elevator, my breasts hit a man smoking a cigar. He coughed, gasped, and called me "womanly." Some woman told me that I did the right thing.

  Arriving home, I took off my clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. Gorgeous Breasts! Swaying. Quality - at least for a magazine spread. Heavy as water-filled balloons. Dense as a paperweight. It will be a pity to part with them. I sighed and they swayed. “Well then, kids, you won't have any more exercises,” I thought. I have to say goodbye to them. I could not allow my breasts to become a threat to humanity. Better I will be noble and suffer for all. I took a shower and went to bed.

  That night I had wild dreams. Something was chasing me, and I was chasing something else. I thought that maybe I was chasing myself, and this thought scared me crazy. I tried to wake up all the time, but to no avail. When I finally woke up in the morning, exhausted and sweating, I found that the sheet was wrapped around my legs, and my flesh-pink exercise machine was lying next to me in bed. My shoulders hurt like they usually did after a good workout.

&nbs
p; Then, at work, my breasts prevented me from typing. Seizing the moment when I was distracted from the typewriter in order to look at my stenographic notebook, they stuck between my hands, monopolized the keys and made my “Selectric” crazy. After spending an hour trying to control them, I finally told the boss that my head hurt terribly. He did not want to let me go home.

  “May June, you've been decorating our office like this in recent days,” he said. “Maybe you can sit here somewhere and just sit looking pretty and suffering?” More and more of my clients are celebrating how much you decorate the interior. If this chatter bothers your pretty head - well then, I'll ask Gladys to take your work and mine and go print to the toilet.