Munmun

by Jesse Andrews

  The castle wasn’t made of stone afterall, kind of a thin flimsy wood, definitely not going to keep out any kingkongs today. This got Bill’s attention anyway, he stared at me through the hole.

  Give the old guy credit, he knows a threat when he sees one.

  “TRESPASSER,” he bellowed, grabbing a sword and running out the door.

  I wrenched off a big jagged plate of his house and whipped it at him as he ran at me, clocked him under the chin, the old guy went down hard, sword clattered on the giant faketile.

  I tossed the sword aside, reached down, slapped old Bill’s face, once, twice, threefour fivesix times, not so hard it broke the face or anything, just to show him, you have no control, I decide what happens to you, and right now what happens to you is, your face gets slapped while Mark eats your food.

  MARK EATS YOUR FOOD NOW, I told Bill, aiming his face through the househole at ravenous guilty Mark rampaging in Bill’s kitchen.

  “BILL I’M SORRY, THIS GUY IS A MANIAC, I LITERALLY FELT MYSELF DYING,” apologized Mark, stuffing his mouth with Bill’s smoked ostriches and guzzling a vat of cocoanut juice.

  Bill gargled and fumed, trembled with rage, glared at his neighbor but couldn’t even speak, coughed a little on his blood.

  OKAY, I THINK YOU GUYS CAN SORT THIS OUT, I told them.

  I picked up the sword, this thing might come in handy, moved on to the next house.

  • • •

  Went to the plantation, dragged Tom out by the neck and into the ocean, spent a while dunking him, holding him under, learned my technique from a feisty fellow with heads on his shoulders.

  Went to the shintoeshrine, kneecapped John with one of his golfclubs, his wife Jillion tried to sneak up on me from behind, kneecapped her too.

  Bashed the glasscubes with the sword until timid pink Lee crept out, he was the tallest so far, almost my height but flabby, wobbly, I pulled up his robe and spanked his grapefruit butt.

  The staffs were cowards prettymuch, no one did anything until Lee’s fourscale chief of staff freaked out and peppered me with bullets, fifteen beestings in my arm, hand, shoulder.

  I picked him up, crumpled his hot little gun, softly tossed him into the trees but probably he died still.

  STAFFS, I’M NOT HERE TO FIGHT YOU, JUST YOUR BIGBOSSES, I kept telling them. DON’T ATTACK ME UNLESS YOU WANT TO DIE TONIGHT.

  No one wanted to die, everyone was terrified of death, everyone was toosoft, everyone’s comfy life was toogood.

  I jogged to the next inlet, another seven houses awaited me, I continued my journey of breaking, entering, pulping, eating people’s food and drinking their water.

  Did I know this would doom me, sure, half of me did.

  Half of me knew, I am one and they are a bunch.

  Soonerorlater these riches will sit on each other’s shoulders, get taller and stronger, start pummeling me back.

  Pour a trillion munmuns into the youngest and strongest of them, someone to stomp me to death, some new godsilla who loves the rich.

  But the other half thought, they might not be able to fight back no matter how bad it gets, maybe they’re too dumb, too soft, too cowardly.

  Too mistrustfull, too selfloving, they might just think, why would I ever donate muns to a Kill Warner account, why should I have to give up scale to stop the monster, someone else can deal with it.

  Maybe I’ll get to do this for a long fun time, half of me thought.

  Newscopters were allowed into Balustrade, I started watching myself on the screens of the homes I bashed.

  “UNCERTAINTY IN BALUSTRADE AS BRASH NEW FIFTYBILLIONAIR UNSETTLES THE PECKING ORDER,” reported some screentext.

  “Sources tell us that this new bigrich calls himself the Kingkong God,” babbled an anchor excitedly, “lots of people are saying he’s brought a refreshing earthy simplicity to a stagnant social scene.”

  The sun dipped below the sea and I headed north in purpling darkness, in the next inlet four more floodlit houses waited for me, a couple were already being moved onto barges.

  EVERYONE OUT OF THOSE BARGES PLEASE, YOU SHOULD GET TO SAFETY, I recommended.

  The staffs swam, flew, motored away in panic as I waded into the ocean, laid my arms on the barges, slowly tipped them underwater, rested the houses on the sandy seafloor.

  “GOD FUCKING DAMN IT, ARE YOU KIDDING ME WITH THIS SHIT, I MEAN AM I SERIOUSLY GOING TO HAVE TO SLEEP OUTSIDE TONIGHT,” screamed a bigrich who was hiding in the darkness of the forest.

  “PEAT, SHUT UP, HE’S GOING TO FIND US,” hissed another one.

  “I’M NOT GOING TO SHUT UP,” yelled the first one. “YOU, WITH THE RAGGY HAIR AND NO CLOTHES, DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH FOODWASTE YOU JUST GENERATED, FOREXAMPLE, I MEAN DID YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT THAT.”

  I GUESS I DIDN’T, I admitted, jogging toward the voices.

  “OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, PEAT,” said the second one. “HERE HE FUCKING COMES.”

  “IF WE ALL TEAM UP WE CAN TAKE HIM,” said the first.

  “IF YOU WANT TO GET YOUR ASS KICKED, GOFORIT,” said the second.

  “WE’RE GETTING OUR ASSES KICKED ANYWAY,” pleaded the first, as I reached him and softly palmed his head in my hand and bounced it off the cliffside.

  I gloried through the night, sank more barges and houses, kicked more soft butts.

  Assembled my own staff from other people’s staffs, armed them with other people’s guns and bombs, put them on other people’s boats and copters, promised my lawyer would have paperwork ready for everyone in the morning.

  No one stopped me, no one fought me, instead people fought each other to escape, squabbled over each other’s stuff to replace what I had smashed, shoved each other into my path, I was a desertspider in a pen of cowards.

  I was maybe a third of the way through Balustrade when the sun came up and I began to weep.

  I was cramming golfcourse sand into the mouth of some typical big, a plump thickhaired puffyeyed rando named Biff and putting up a pointless fight, snarling spitting sputtering while I pressed a knee into his ribs and poured the sand into his face, and I was telling him, JUST SWALLOW THE FREAKING SAND SO IT’LL BE OVER FASTER, I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS, but Biff wouldn’t swallow, kept angling his face away and squirming, so I grabbed the flabby giant’s hair and just thumped his head into the sand, thump, thump, thump,

  but I knew it didn’t hurt as much as it could, so I pulled up his head and slugged him, blacked one eye, then the other, pulled him up and knocked him down, saying, I TOLD YOU JUST EAT THE STUPID SAND, WHY WOULDN’T YOU JUST EAT IT, but the words were getting stuck in my thicking throat, strangled from weepiness, Warner you loonybin, stop crying and moveon.

  I dropped him in a heap and breathed.

  “Boss, are you allright, need a break or something,” yelled Puppyneck, still chilling in my hair, he ofcourse had become my chief of staff.

  I NEED SLEEP, I told him.

  “Yeah, you should get some sleep,” he agreed, “noproblem, we got lookout armies on the sand.”

  I’LL SLEEP IN THE OCEAN, I told him.

  He barked orders into his stolen headset, I stepped into the sea.

  Floated out into international waters like a peacefull barge, lay on my back and dreamed.

  DREAMWORLD

  And for the first time in years, just let myself be in Dreamworld, not terrorize or haunt.

  Just tumble, drift, hush myself, and watch.

  I was only Warner, not the angry druggy angel, just my raggy ratty sober self.

  It was ofcourse the dreamzone of a lonely city, trashed and fearfull.

  Obviously the timeofday made it pretty quiet, most people were awake in Lifeanddeathworld, most people weren’t dreaming. Just me and nightworker poors, a few sick in hospitalbeds, a few lazy hipsters and scumbags.

  And everywhere people avoided each other, glanced suspiciously, shrank into their own shadows and muttered dismissals,

  I’m Not Intrested,

  Heck You Want,


  Leave Me Alone,

  What You Think I’m Stupid Or Something,

  everyone was me when I was prisoned in the kidjail.

  • • •

  My heart felt dry and dead, I wanted to talk to dreamers, show you something nice. Take one person, swim a flowerfish in front of your eyes.

  But every stranger shunned me, no one trusted me to make them happy. Someone froze the flowerfish, another grayed and shriveled it.

  I made a little rivertree, fishflocks wheeling in the wind like leaves.

  One stranger tried to dry it up,

  another turned it into ugly veins,

  a third one took the fishleaves and thinned them into needles, eels, snakes of bleeding ink.

  Ohwell, I thought, ohwell, tried to just let it be an ohwell kind of thing, my heart tried not to grieve, itiswhatitis.

  I tumbled, drifted further.

  Someone I knew was asleep, I realized.

  The operahouse sat in a yard in a yard in a yard, everyone was suspicious of it too, no one went in.

  I stepped inside, expected the old rich song,

  instead she was just singing one plain note, hair unbraided, pretty walleye closed.

  Hummmmmmm, went the note.

  “Kitty, what happened to the song,” I asked.

  She opened her eyes and gazed widely, a little unfocus, not sure what she saw.

  “Who is this though, are you a ghost,” she whispered finally.

  “Kitty, what are you doing asleep right now,” I said. “Don’t you have school or work or something.”

  “No school, no work,” she said. “I just wait dayandnight for the kingcon to come and fight me.”

  “What do you mean,” I said.

  “Everyone knows the kingcon,” she said flat and dull. “The angry angel who tortures Dreamworld. He fought me once, now I wait for him to come fight me again, the waiting is how he tortures me I guess.”

  “He’s out of Dreamworld, Kitty,” I said. “It’s just me now, just Warner. The kingkong is gone, he left dreams forever.”

  She just frowned and thumbed her hair.

  “Kitty can you sing me the song,” I asked.

  “I don’t remember how it goes,” she shrugged.

  She said it and my heart began to moan.

  “How about you just sing any song, let’s just hear what notes come out,” I asked, fighting panic.

  “Ghost Warner, why did you do it,” she said.

  It silenced me.

  “Why’d you leave,” she begged.

  “To help a friend,” I said, my words were whines.

  “You could have belonged to me, you know,” she told me.

  “Stop, stop stop,” I said.

  “I could have belonged to you,” she said.

  “No,” I said. “Never, never ever.”

  “You could have belonged to me, I could have belonged to you,” she breathed.

  “It never could have happened,” I began to yell.

  “If you stayed, I would have,” she said, simple, small.

  “You don’t even know who I am,” I began to really yell, loud to shut up the moaning heart. “You think I’m a pet, a saintbernard, a noble little sufferer, Kitty please shut up, you have no idea who I am.”

  “I know you,” she insisted.

  “Stop,” I begged.

  “But I know you, I know I know you,” she told me, low and soft.

  “Oh, stop, just stop it, please freaking stop,” I cried. “The boy you know wrecked Dreamworld.”

  She closed her eyes, maybe she heard music instead of me.

  “The idiot you know made sadness into munmun,” I raged. “The ghost you know grew fear like food and ate it to get big, the rat you know made pain for five shityears and now he’s huge, and all I want to do with hugeness is punish, Kitty, that’s all I want to do.”

  She opened her eyes again, her big eyeblacks breathed in and out.

  “That’s all I want to do anymore, just crush and hurt forever,” I rasped, “make bigs feel fearfull, unsafe, turn bigs into cowering frightened powerless littles, turn them into me, make fear until I die.”

  She just shook her head, halfsmiled.

  “Is that the boy you know,” I ached, my face was hot and melting.

  “I just know you’re the boy who found me once,” she told me, “the boy who wanted to show me something, longago.”

  The shock almost woke me, then noises did.

  LIFEANDDEATHWORLD

  It was a familiar voice that pulled me back to lifeanddeath.

  “Warner, sorry, hello, Warner, wakeup please,” blared a drone near my poor weepy head, dizzy, floating in my waterbed, saltyfaced.

  The dronescreen showed me Hue, behind his desk in his homeoffice, smiling pale and nervous.

  I breathed away the weeping, didn’t want to seem weak or dumb.

  “I’m here with Usher and Prayer, Warner,” said Hue, turn the camera and show my shaky sis and grim lawyer, well look at these two healthy fifteenfooters.

  HELLO GUYS, I said, raspythroated.

  “Warner, bro, you have to stop,” pleaded Prayer.

  Usher nodded, jerky, needy.

  USHER, SIS, I said, unsure what to say.

  I thought about it.

  CAN YOU PAY HUE THE MUNMUNS I OWE HIM, I said finally.

  “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” said Hue.

  IT’S A HUNTHOUSAND MUNMUNS, I said, got to be specific.

  “Warner, I’m not talking to you as your former hostfather today,” explained Hue. “I’m talking to you as a representative of the localgovernment of Lossy Indica County.”

  He was talking fast, nervous, sped right into “Wewantyoutoknow, firstofall, that we take a lot of pride in your incredible achievements, I mean you’re a selfmade bigrich, born littlepoor, it’s a true ragstoriches story, and on top of that Prayer has told me you’ve been expressing a desire to donate some of your fortune to Lossy Indica Minmun, if this is true I want to tell you how much I admire your generosity and citizenship.”

  HEY IS KITTY THERE, I asked.

  “Please, we need to resolve this as soon as possible,” Hue zipped, “our problem is, your recent actions have encouraged many of our local bigriches, infact I think we can say prettymuch all, to consider moving away from Balustrade, out of Lossy Indica County, perhaps out of the Yewess itself.”

  Sweaty frightened Hue, fear is eating even him.

  “For reasons I explained to you once, during one of our talks, this would be a disaster, Warner, and one that would hit our most vulnerable the hardest, so what we need to do is find a positive and peacefull resolution that will keep everyone happy and allow jobcreators to remain in the country that loves them the most.”

  HUE, IS KITTY OKAY, I asked.

  “Notreally, Warner, no, she’s notwell, but please, we don’t have a lot of time,” said shaky Hue. “Let me be uncomfortably clear with you. The citizens of Balustrade have asked the Yewess government to conduct a military strike against your body.”

  Prayer breathed in hard, Usher got more grim, I didn’t even really hear Hue tobehonest, what does notwell mean.

  “Ofcourse this is a highly unusual action against someone of your size and wealth and it exposes the national government to a potenchilly ruinous series of lawsuits, as your lawyer has made clear to us,” Hue said. “But the bigs are unwilling to shoulder this legal burden themselves, and they have enormous leverage over the federal government, in ways you and I have discussed, I’m sure you remember our talks about this.”

  HUE I DON’T REALLY CARE, I rasped, WHAT DO YOU MEAN, KITTY’S NOTWELL.

  “WARNER,” barked Hue. “Forgodssake, focus. Listen to me. Your life is at stake. Your lawyer has negotiated an agreement for you to sign. Here are the terms. You will designate all but onemillion of your munmuns for donation and scale down as of one hour from now. Half will go to the citizens of Balustrade to repair the damage you have created, the other half will go to Lossy In
dica Minmun. You will henceforth agree to keep a mile’s distance between yourself and any individual more than eightscale in size, and you will agree to never let your scale account exceed onemillion muns again. In exchange, the bigs will withdraw their demands, and you will not be firebombed to death. Warner, please give Usher the authority to sign this agreement.”

  I thought about this.

  “Warner I’m sorry but this decision must be made now, the bank has very little time to prep you for scaling down,” Hue pleaded, “you may not be aware but if your body is not prepared for scaling down, the consequences are pretty dire, and with a scaledown this dramatic it will probably be fatal.”

  I thought some more.

  “Bro, ohmygod, listen,” cried Prayer. “It’s all going to be okay, infact it can be amazing, just please do what we’re asking, please. You’re still giving so much to minmun, you’re still doing so much good for so many, I know you don’t want to give the bigs half of your munmun but you did destroy a ton of their stuff.”

  I stayed silent, she continued all panicky, “Whatstheproblem, is it that you don’t want to be middlescale for the rest of your life, bro I get it, I get it, ofcourse I get it but just think, it’s twice as big as you’ve ever been until yesterday, Warner bottomline you have to say yes right now, you have no choice, just say yes, please.”

  I kept thinking, or maybe didn’t think at all, just was silent with no thoughts.

  “Warner?” asked Hue.

  CAN YOU BRING ME KITTY FIRST, I said.

  “I can’t,” snapped Hue, angry voice breaking, “Warner, I can’t, so drop it. She’s downstairs in treatment right now, getting muchneeded therapy, she’s been sleeping twentyhours a day and we’re at our witsend trying to figure out how to help her, bottomline, I can’t bring her to you. Maybe in a few weeks you can see her. If you want to live until then, tell us we can sign.”

  But my heart wanted something else.

  BRING ME JASPER, THEN, I said.

  Hue blinked, confused.

  “What does he mean, who’s Jasper,” he began to ask, as I grabbed the drone, plucked it from the air and dunked it in the sea, felt it fizzle and die in my hand.

  They had him in my hands within a halfhour, must really be urgent, the government must really fear us bigs, they forced this shaky teen to climb a rope down from the copter into my waiting hands, the kid who stomped my dad.