Munmun

by Jesse Andrews

  “Oh dang,” said Prayer.

  “He’s not supposed to crap in the ocean but who’s going to stop him,” explained Markfive.

  “Baby, enough,” said Lily, but enormous hostile ears had already heard her disrespectfull son.

  “Five, wow, judgmental of Dad much,” accused Markthree, a bald fourscale big in a shimmering threepiecesuit, looming over us with hungry eyes. Behind him his giant eaglenosed mom hissed, “Yeah.”

  “Mybad, Three, mybad,” said Markfive. “It’s easy for me to be judgmental, unlike you I am not big enough for the privilege of wiping the residual craps out of Dad’s huge soakingwet butt.”

  A littledrunk Lily wanted her son to not go there but instead accidentally laughed.

  “Five Mom, your son is making an ugly spectacle at Mark’s birthdayparty, can you not get him undercontrol,” demanded Three Mom.

  “Nope,” decided Lily.

  “I enjoy your jealous ignorant middletalk, hilarious middlekid, I truly do,” boomed Markthree. “You don’t even know how defecation works for us bigs, you don’t understand biologically why we need to defecate into the ocean sometimes, well dontworry, you’ll never have to, have fun with your lazy middlelife.”

  “Yup, it’s super tragic that I don’t understand the glory of oceancrapping,” said Markfive, but Three was already hustling away importantly to get the lastword.

  Back on land, we had some fish in the bigpatio, the vast tablelegs and structures towering over most of us.

  It took me back to being littlepoor forsure, being roofed by tables, gazing up at the undersides of everything.

  “Are these fish safe to eat, with all the oceancrapping that’s going on,” I asked.

  “Put it this way,” said Markfive. “These fish don’t get crapped on more than any other fish you’ve eaten.”

  “Fascinating, I’m all ears, please explain,” chirped Prayer.

  “Lol, what,” said Markfive. “Do you seriously want me to talk about ocean sewage while you’re eating.”

  “I’m dead serious, my appetite for knowledge is completely limitless,” Prayer told him. “Literally at any hour of the day, in any situation, I am ready to learn exciting facts!”

  Both Markfive and Lily thought this was hilarious.

  “Will you get a load of this sweet crazy gogetter,” cried Lily.

  Meanwhile Kitty walked me around introducing me to rich randos, now I understand why she was so eager to come to a terrible party.

  “Warner let me introduce you to Shell and her husband Shelving, patrons of music and worthycauses and additionally they own Speedy Hospital. Shell and Shelving please meet Warner, he’s the totalrockstar of the pilot program my dad Hue and I have created, the goal is for riches to host littlepoors of particular promise, the program loans them scale munmun and gives a modest allowance and these littles can experience life at halfscale, go to real schools, get real jobs, begin to lift their families out of terrible poorness,” explained Kitty, eyes shining like crazy, impossible for you not to get a little weepy seeing the dogood passion of this righteous girl.

  “Maybe the program can teach them about disease and hygiene too,” Shelving said.

  “Oh absolutely,” said Kitty.

  “Inconsistent medhabits are responsible for medproof germs, and that’s byfar the greatest problem we face as a species, believe me, if we all die because of the carelessness of littles it would be a great shame,” Shelving told us.

  “A whole wing of the program could deal with littlehealth,” Kitty realized, “what a great way to address this problem, you could endow the Shell and Shelving Littlehealth Coordinator position!”

  “Hmmm,” said Shelving, giving a thoughtfullnod of, How about I endow your program with thoughtfullnodding instead of actual munmuns.

  We were all quiet.

  “Well, we’ll be tracking this program with great intrest, and ofcourse if the results are good, we’d be happy to discuss being part of it,” said Shell finally.

  “Certainly not on the hosting side, I do not relish the possibility of coexisting with a vector of deadly medproof germs, now young man, can you tell me what immunizations you’ve received to date,” Shelving asked me.

  “He’s all caught up,” said Kitty quickly, hustling me away to the next old bigs.

  Meanwhile a bigdinner was prepped out on the beach, separate from our middledinner.

  We muttered and tried not to stare as Mark strode in from the water, lowered himself onto the sand next to the firepits. Giant silhouettes appeared up the beach meanwhile, a few neighbor bigs ambling down from their palaces, four men and one woman, staffs zipping around beneath their feet on ayteevees.

  Prettysoon us middles were sitting around Mark and his neighbors on the sand like we were a concertaudience, watching and murmuring as the bigs devoured roasted sharks and buffaloes, glugging and swishing from wiskybarrels.

  “MARK,” boomed one bigneighbor at Speech Time, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY MAN, I ADMIRE YOU, A SIMPLEGUY WITH SIMPLETASTES. THE SON OF POTATO FARMERS ON GOVERNMENT MIDDLESCALE, LOOK AT YOU NOW, A SELFMADE MAN EATING A WHOLE AQUARIUM OF SHARKS. THE LORD KING GOD IS TRULY GOOD TO THOSE WHO WORK HARD AND DREAM BIG.”

  “The Yewess government loans scale munmuns to farmers because they farm better with bigger bodies, that’s what he means by government middlescale,” whispered Kitty to me.

  “SOME WILL SAY MARK’S GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT IS HIS DRUGEMPIRE,” thundered another neighbor, the smallest but still atleast tenscale, “OTHERS WILL SAY IT’S WHEN HE RENTED THE NEWS FOR A YEAR AND PUT AN ORANGE BACK IN THE WHITEHOUSE. BUT IF YOU ASK ME, MARK’S GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT IS, HE PUT TWELVE DIFFERENT BABIES IN ELEVEN DIFFERENT BEAUTIFULL WOMEN AND NEVER GOT TRICKED INTO MARRYING A SINGLE ONE. I MEAN LOOK AT THESE FINE LITTLE HONEYS. WELL SOME OF THEM YOU HAVE TO REMEMBER WHAT THEY LOOKED LIKE WHEN THEY WERE YOUNGER, I GUESS MOST OF THEM, BUT TAKE MY WORD FOR IT, EVERY SINGLE ONE WAS A KNOCKOUT, ANYWAY GREATJOB AND HERE’S TO MARK.”

  “JOHN,” said this guy’s bigwife. “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

  “OBVIOUSLY I’M JUST KIDDING,” said John.

  “MARK, HAPPY BIRTHDAY,” speeched a third big, the oldest. “ENJOY THESE TIMES AND I URGE YOU NOT TO BECOME CARELESS. YOU ARE SURROUNDED BY WOULDBE TRAITORS, HAVE NODOUBT ABOUT THAT. YOUR FRIENDS, YOUR STAFF, ALL ARE SNAKES WHO WOULD BETRAY YOU AT THE DROP OF A HAT. THAT’S HOW IT IS WITH ME, SNAKES EVERYWHERE I LOOK. NO, I WANT THEM TO HEAR ME SAY IT. WHERE IS MY CHIEF OF STAFF? HE IS THE MOST VENOMOUS SNAKE OF ALL. WARREN, YOU JEWDISS, YOU CAN’T EVEN LOOK ME IN THE EYE.”

  “I’m looking you in the eye right now, sir, I would never betray you,” yelled poor Warren, opening his eyes as wide as possible, also pointing at them with his fingers.

  “LIAR,” trumped the old guy, jaw quivering, losing foodjuice and blood back out of his mouth and onto his shirt.

  “BILL, CAN YOU NOT DO THIS AT MY BIRTHDAYPARTY,” asked Mark.

  “WARREN LIES LIKE A DOG, BUT I WILL OUTLIVE HIM AND WHATSMORE I WILL OUTLIVE ALL OF YOU, EVERY LAST ONE,” said Bill, “I KNOW PERFECTLYWELL YOU ALL THINK I AM WEAK AND CLOSE TO DEATH, BUT I HAVE MANY GALLONS OF FRESH YOUNG BLOOD SIPHONED INTO MY VEINS EVERY MORNING, INFACT WHY DON’T I SHOW YOU JUST HOW WEAK I AM.”

  Bill got up too fast, teetertottered for a second and everyone gasped and shrieked, we all thought he was going to crash and kill some of us. But he stayed on his feet and shakily walked into the sea.

  He was in to about his ankleknobs when he dropped his pants and squatted, naturecalled.

  “WARREN, I WOULD HATE TO HAVE YOUR JOB,” deadpanned calm Mark, it was funny but everyone laughed way too hard, slapping each other and staggering around, loudest was Markthree.

  “I am truly gratefull for your patience and understanding, sir,” barked Warren, then he murmured into his headset, “I need boats in the water, shallowboats and nets, it’s a codetwelve, go go go.”

  Mark’s chief of staff was a threescale named Heather, she quietly tapped Markfive on the shoul
der as we sat and watched Famous Randy dance and sweat through his sixth straight hour of performance as dozens of acrobats set themselves on fire and jumped over his head.

  “Markfive, sir, I hope it’s a goodtime, your father invites you to a private audience so that you may pay birthday respects,” murmured Heather.

  “Great,” said drunk and druggy Markfive. “Can I bring one of my friends?”

  “Again, it is a private audience, and I’m sure Mark would prefer to speak with you oneonone,” suggested Heather.

  “Nodoubt he would,” said Markfive, lifting me onto his shoulders like a chickenfight, I pretended not to be terrified.

  Conveyorbelts helped us along to Mark’s study, an arenaroom with clouded ceiling, desk the size of Hue Family House, curtains billowing like shipsails in the nightbreeze.

  Mark lounged on a vast floormat in a robe woven from ropes.

  “HELLO, SON,” said Mark.

  “Hi, Dad,” said Markfive. “This is Warner bytheway, he’s my friend, used to be littlepoor which is freaking nuts when you think about it.”

  “HELLO, WARNER,” said Mark.

  “Happy birthday sir,” I screamed, terrified he would have to say what, thankgod he didn’t.

  “THANK YOU,” he said, leaning the great head down to us like a crashing moon. “MARKFIVE, LET ME LOOK AT YOU. LOOK UP AT MY FACE. LOOK UP, SON. THERE YOU GO. YOU’RE REALLY A HANDSOME YOUNG MAN, YOU KNOW THAT? ALTHOUGH YOU LOOK TIRED, MAYBE A LITTLE PALE. ARE YOU GETTING EVERYTHING YOU NEED?”

  “Sure, fine, whatever,” said Markfive, immediately around his dad his voice gets high and whiny.

  Mark nodded, waiting for more, not getting it.

  Then he said, “IN SOME WAYS YOU’RE SO MUCH LIKE I WAS AS A TEEN. IT ALWAYS MAKES ME SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU. EVEN IF YOU CAN’T DRESS RESPECTFULLY OR OBEY CERTAIN BASIC RULES OF ETIQUETTE.”

  “Are you wasted or something,” said wasted Markfive.

  “HA HA HA,” laughed Mark, rumbling the floor, “WOULDN’T THAT BE NICE. YOU KNOW I CAN’T EVEN GET CLOSE TO DRUNK. IT TAKES SUCH A VOLUME JUST TO GET TIPSY.”

  “I’m pretty sure the strongest shit Mark Drug Co sells could get you pretty messed up though,” said Markfive. “Like whaletranks, I’m sure you could get wasted on a couple of those.”

  “LITTLE FIVE,” said Mark, losing intrest in the wastedness convo, “I HAVE SOMETHING I WANT TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT. YOU’VE ALWAYS BEEN SUCH A SMART KID, SO BRIGHT AND SO QUICK, JUST LIKE I WAS AT YOUR AGE, I FORGET IF I SAID THAT ALREADY. ANYWAY THE SKY IS TRULY THE LIMIT FOR YOU. BUT RECENTLY YOU HAVE SEEMED DISENGAGED TO ME, CONTENT TO LET YOUR MIND GO A LITTLEBIT TO WASTE, FINE WITH LIVING A LESS FULFILLED LIFE, ALSO OFCOURSE THE REPEATED CARCRASHES ARE TROUBLING. BASICALLY I WORRY THAT SCHOOL ISN’T CHALLENGING YOU ENOUGH.”

  “Well, I think it is challenging though,” whined Markfive. “I mean I’m getting bees in everything.”

  “THAT IS EXACTLY WHY I THINK YOU’RE NOT BEING CHALLENGED,” said Mark.

  There was a sick melty footsmell but it wasn’t feet, instead it was a bathtub of fonduecheese, next to the tub was a slab of rock holding enormous breads, and surenough, the giant leaned back and began dipping and munching, splatters of cheeselava landed all around us.

  “I mean, what are you suggesting, do you wish I went to a tougher school and had gotten cees and dees and felt crappy, nothanks,” scoffed Markfive.

  “I THINK AT A MORE RIGOROUS SCHOOL, WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED WAS, YOU WOULD HAVE TRIED,” said Mark.

  “Cool theory I guess,” said Markfive. “From a scientist who checks in on his experiment once every few months or so.”

  Mark winced with dignified hurt, made a face of, I wish you could understand the very good reasons why I cannot be your everyday dad.

  A pair of seagulls flew through the window for breadcrumbs but he swatted them like bugs.

  “CAN WE TALK ABOUT YOUR EIGHTEENTH BIRTHDAY PRESENT,” said Mark, leaning the head toward us again, it was like being talked to by a garage.

  “I don’t want it,” said Markfive. “Give it to Warner.”

  Mark sighed and his breathstink was amazing, a thousand rotting animals thicking the air. His swampy eyes rolled toward me. Their switchbacking veins were faded snakes, puffing and shrinking a little with his pulse.

  “Warner would do way better with it than me, this dave has wild streetsmarts, he used to live in freaking garbage, plus he has incredible discipline, look how yoked he is,” slurred Markfive. “Even his sister would crush it. She literally wants to never stop learning facts. She literally said that. Warner, tell him.”

  “BE HONEST WITH ME, LITTLE FIVE. WHY DID YOU INSIST ON BRINGING A FRIEND TO WHAT SHOULD BE A PRIVATE SITDOWN BETWEEN FATHER AND SON,” asked Mark.

  “I guess I just like pissing you off,” said Markfive, voice squeaking on piss.

  Mark nodded, leaned back, his eyes darkening and closing off.

  “AND WHY IS THAT,” he boomed.

  “Because I know no one else is doing it,” said Markfive.

  Mark was munching ravenously now, inhaling dripping breads in a barely controlled panic.

  “THAT IS NOT NECESSARILY A GREAT REASON TO DO SOMETHING,” he told us, and snapped his fingers, like a thundering treecrash, Heather came to politely kick us out.

  On the way home, Lily sat upfront with Markfive, she was also tipsy but trying to be serious, wanting to talk sense into the headstrong son.

  “Sweetie, you gotta play a little nicer with your bros and sisses,” she said.

  “Ugh,” snapped angry Markfive, driving toofast and lurchy.

  “I just mean, play the game atleast a little bit,” she urged.

  “Mom, chill,” he muttered.

  “I know the game is terrible,” she said. “But otherwise you’re wasting the only good part of having Mark as your dad.”

  Markfive caught Kitty’s eye in the rearview and explained, “For my birthday present, my dad wants to give me solodream sleepmeds.”

  “Do you not like dreaming with other people?” asked Kitty sadly.

  “No no no, not the drug, the company,” said Markfive. “My dad wants to give me a slice of his actual company, the part that makes the solodream drug.”

  “Ohhhhhh,” said Kitty. “Oh wow.”

  Lily craned around to look at us and said, “Poor Warner and Blessing have no idea what we’re talking about!”

  “Her name’s actually Prayer,” said Markfive, and Prayer said nothing but I could hear her glow.

  Lily announced, “Warner and Prairie are sitting back there like, huh, excuse me, solodream, sleepmeds, these middleriches are babbling insanely like they’ve lost their minds, are they about to gobble us up like two little treats?!”

  “Mom, be less of a drunken maniac,” said Markfive.

  Kitty explained, “Warner, Prayer, solodream is what the bank gives you before Scale Up or Scale Down to keep your Dreamworld separate from everyone else’s, so you don’t damage everyone and yourself, I mean cyclelogically.”

  “No no ofcourse I remember,” said Prayer.

  I did too, remembered my own private dreamcity, my unpeopled dreamyewess, the outofcontrol feeling of getting bigger than the planet, bigger than all of space, digging myself out of the airless universe and back into the underbank, yellings of no no no.

  “Yeah,” said impatient Markfive, “so basically it’s a product with only one customer, the bank, they buy about the same amount everyyear and that’s it, the end, super boring and dumb, it’s the dumbest business ever.”

  “Oh, I don’t know, I think you could do great things with it,” breathed giddy Prayer.

  “Nope,” snapped Markfive. “No one could. It’s the slice of Mark Drug Co you would give to an idiot to run.”

  “Baby, I get it,” said Lily. “But what you’re missing is, Mark’s giving it to you. Two, Three, Girlmark, Four, Girlmarkagain, they don’t have their own little companyslices. They all just work under him. You’re the only one he’s put
ting in business for yourself.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” yelled Markfive, flooring the gaspedal, and we sped over terrified halfcars back up into Wet Almanac.

  DREAMWORLD

  The weeks whipped past and my dreaming got wild enough, daves started mentioning it at school, they didn’t even know it was mine.

  “Something’s up in Dreamworld, last night someone made me dream my body was a song,” grumbled one surly lifter.

  “My whole freaking family keeps getting trapped with Famous Randy inside the thoughtbubbles of a horse,” mumbled another.

  It was all the chems turbocharging my mind for sure, the dreaming didn’t even feel like work, I just refused to touch any brakes and let every thought speed around, put away the clips and shears and let the weeds grow wildly.

  I got used to ignoring the tick tick tickle of random dreamers trying to dream their way to me, flickering flashlights from across valleys and oceans, tapping faraway doors they think are mine, all the poor and rich Lossy Indicans who want to know who is setting the inkfires, whose breath is making windtrees, who is bursting bubblehills and crashing roadwaves into the pavebeach, who is shifting the mathy grids we’re stuck in, who is carving little shapes in time, rhythms out of walls and air.

  Most of these people, did I care about them, no, well yes but did I need them to know, it’s Warner dreaming all this, this wild bananas dreamstuff is copywrite Warner, don’t reproduce without permission, nope.

  Now did I care about Kitty, did I want her to know it’s me, well yeah, I mean that would be nice.

  But did Kitty notice, notreally, no.

  Everynight instead she made her music, she played for her audiences, and my dreamstuff couldn’t reach inside the operafortress.

  A couple times I asked her, hey, do you ever leave that crazy castle, do you ever wonder what other people can dream.

  “Playing music is all I want to do in Dreamworld really,” she said.

  “But what if someone wants to make something for you,” I asked.

  “I guess they have to learn to make it in wakingworld,” she shrugged and grinned.