Memento Monstrum

by Jochen Til

  »Definitely,« says Beenie. »She dances every day, and she’s happy.«

  I nod. »Yes, that’s a nice thought.«

  In my mind’s eye, I see Yeti dancing in the snow, and it makes me smile.

  Vira interrupts my thoughts. »Grandpa, can you help me?« she asks. »The books for the roof are so heavy I can’t lift them alone.«

  I get up from the sofa. »Of course. Just tell me what to do.«

  »First we need to open up the very big books and place them in the corners,« explains Vira. »Then we’ll have a base for the roof. After that, we’ll plug the holes with other books.«

  »Sounds like a well-thought-out plan,« I say. »Perhaps you should think about becoming an architect one day.«

  »She doesn’t want to,« says Beenie, flicking through my photo album. »Vira wants to be a vet, she said so.«

  »And a photographer,« Rhesus groans in irritation, still playing on his phone. »And an ecologist. And a firefighter. She wants to be something new every day.«

  »Oh yeah? And what are you going to do?« snaps Vira. »Just laze around on the couch all day?«

  Rhesus grins. »Is that a job? I’d be perfect at that.«

  We can’t help laughing at that.

  I help Vira lay the heavy books on top of her house, and it really makes me sweat.

  »Oh!« says Beenie as we’re heaving up a particularly heavy book. »Wow, that’s a big fish! Did you catch it yourself, Grandpa?«

  »A fish?« I ask in surprise, bending down toward her. »What kind of fish?«

  I stretch my neck as far as possible to glance at the photo. Suddenly I notice the book slipping out of my hands.

  »Aaaah!« cries Vira. »Grandpa, look out!«

  But it’s already too late. The book slips away from me completely, bringing the half-finished roof crashing down, and burying Vira beneath it.

  »Oh dear, I’m sorry!« I say, quickly helping her to crawl out from under the book. »Are you hurt?«

  »No, I’m fine,« she says. »It was just a surprise.«

  »So much for the architectural profession,« teases Rhesus. »Nobody would want to live in one of your book shacks.«

  »That wasn’t my fault,« grumbles Vira. »I just need to be a bit more careful about how I choose my assistants. Grandpa is too easily distracted.«

  »Sorry,« says Beenie. »It was because of me. But do look, the fish really is gigantic!«

  Vira and I sit beside her on the sofa.

  »That’s not a fish,« says Rhesus after a fleeting glance at it. »Fish don’t have legs.«

  »Well, what is it then?« asks Beenie.

  I take the photo album from her. »That’s Bubba!« I say joyfully. »Oh, how lovely! It’s been such a long time I’d almost forgotten him. Bubba was my pet. I got him when I was as little as you are, Beenie.«

  »Oh, a pet!« Beenie squeaks happily. »I want a pet too! But not with a fish head. I want an alpaca! With an alpaca head! They’re so fluffy!«

  »Seriously, Grandpa,« says Vira, looking skeptically at me. »You’re pulling our legs, aren’t you? There’s no way that’s a pet. And I’ve never seen a fish with legs either.«

  »Photoshop,« says Rhesus. »I bet you.«

  »You could even be right this time,« Vira agrees. »There’s no other explanation.«

  »It’s quite true,« I say. »That’s Bubba and he really was my pet. Just ask Great-Grandma when she gets back from her cruise. She gave him to me for my birthday. And at first, he was a perfectly ordinary fish.«

  »Really?« asks Vira in amazement. »So what happened to him?«

  »Do you really want to know? I mean, won’t you get bored listening to me tell you these old stories?«

  »No, I love your old stories, Grandpa,« says Vira.

  »Me too!« Beenie chimes in. »I’m not old enough to know them all yet!«

  »I don’t mind,« says Rhesus with a brief shrug of his shoulders. »So long as I can keep killing werewolves at the same time.«

  »We really need a proper talk about that,« I say. »But first let me tell you …«

  It was early 1436. I was four years old and my most heartfelt wish was for a pet. In those days, there weren’t many ways to pass the time as a child. Toys like you have today hadn’t been invented yet, and as an only child, I didn’t even have any brothers or sisters to make the days less boring. Playing hide-and-seek on my own got boring very quickly, and so I began to long for company, a friend, a companion with whom I could pass the time.

  A few weeks earlier, my aunt Caitlin McByte had come for a visit over Christmas, and she had brought her dog with her. He was a Scottish deerhound named Blood, and I idolized him. We frolicked around all over the castle, I taught him a few tricks, we roamed through the fields by night, and I could even ride on him. It was the best week of my life thus far. But then Aunt Caitlin went home again, and of course she wanted to take her dog. All my begging and pleading were in vain – after all, she loved him more than anything herself – and so I had no choice but to wave goodbye to Blood, crying my eyes out.

  From that day on, my most urgent, and indeed only, aim was to persuade my parents to get me a dog, any dog. It didn’t even have to be one like Blood. The main thing was to get a dog. My tactics for achieving this were based on constant pestering. At any time, in any place, I would make it unmistakably clear to my parents that my entire soul, my whole happiness, my very existence, depended on this one thing.

  »I want a dog! I want a dog! I want a dog!« I repeated without pausing for breath whenever my parents were within earshot. »Or I’ll die!«

  »You certainly will not,« my father would reply, with a laugh at first. »No vampire has ever died for lack of a dog.«

  »A dog is too much work, sweetie.« My mother would always try to talk me out of it. »It needs feeding and has to go out every night, whatever the weather. Besides, dogs can’t fly – we could never take one on vacation.«

  »But I’d do the work!« I rebutted her flimsy arguments. »And I can’t fly yet either, but you take me on vacation!«

  »That’s quite different,« my mother replied. »You’re our child – of course we take you on vacation with us.«

  I wasn’t to be deterred. »But the dog could be my child! And then I wouldn’t take anything else on vacation with me! No underwear, no nightshirt, no clothes at all! And no cloak either! Just the dog!«

  »Oh yes, that would suit you just fine,« my mother laughed. »But forget it – there’s no way you’re flying on vacation without underwear.«

  »But I want a dog! I want a dog! I want a dog! I want a dog!« was my only reply.

  »Oh, Vlad,« my father sighed. »Be sensible now. Where would we even get a dog from? It’s not as though there’s a pet shop on every street corner. I wouldn’t even know where to buy one.«

  I was ready with a skilled counterargument though: »I don’t care,« I said. »I want a dog! I want a dog! I want a dog! I want a dog!«

  »I’ve had enough of this nonsense now!« said my mother sharply. »The more often you say that, the lower your chances of ever getting a dog or any other pet. Besides, you know perfectly well that we only give presents at Christmas and birthdays. We’ve only just had Christmas and it isn’t your birthday yet either.«

  I didn’t waste long wondering whether I’d heard her right.

  Her message was perfectly clear. My mother had promised me a dog! For my birthday! My heart instantly leapt for joy under my rib cage like an excited puppy. My tactics had worked! I’d be getting a dog! Now there was only one problem:

  »When is my birthday? When is my birthday? When is my birthday?« I demanded.

  »You know when,« said my mother. »It’s October seventh.«

  »When’s October? When’s October? When’s October?« I asked, because at that point I didn’t have a particularly well-developed sense of time.

  »In nine months,« groaned my mother. »And now just stop getting on our nerves and eat up your blood soup.«
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  Nine months, I thought. Nine. That was a number I could manage. Nine was only one digit, and so it was less than ten, which had two. But on the other hand, nine was a lot more than three – the number my mother always used when I had to do something I didn’t want to. Then she would always count to three and I’d have to tidy my coffin or clean my teeth. Three always went very quickly; nine would certainly take longer. But how long exactly?

  »Birthdays always take ages,« sighs Beenie. »Christmas comes quicker.«

  »Does not,« laughs Vira. »Christmas is also only once a year. So you have to wait just as long as for your birthday.«

  »Oh no I don’t,« says Beenie. »Because my birthday’s in November and so it’s not long to wait until Christmas then. But after that, it’s ages till it’s my birthday again.«

  »Impressive logic,« Rhesus says. »Beenie’s invented her own calendar.«

  I chuckle. »Sadly, it didn’t work for me back then.«

  Every day without a dog felt like a year. If you could die of longing and impatience, I’d have dropped dead five minutes after getting up each evening. I couldn’t count the days – there were just too many of them – so I counted the months, which proved a very frustrating approach. Fortunately, my birthday is October 7th, so the last month wasn’t quite as bad.

  Then at last it was time – the big night had finally, finally come! I was too excited to get a wink of sleep all day, and when my mother got up, I was already sitting on her coffin lid.

  »Where’s my present? Where’s my present? Where’s my present?« I asked.

  »Good evening, sweetie,« said my mother, stretching sleepily. »A very happy birthday to you.«

  I wasn’t to be that easily distracted. »My present! My present! My present!« I continued.

  »Stop all this pestering!« My mother laughed. »Have a little more patience. You’ll get your present at breakfast.«

  Of course, this unnecessary delay wasn’t my idea of fun.

  I climbed onto my father’s coffin – he liked to sleep in a little longer – and jumped around on top of it.

  »Papa! Wake up!« I cried. »Hurry! It’s breakfast time!«

  It felt like an eternity later that we were sitting at the dining table, and my mother handed me a blood-orange marmalade sandwich.

  »I’m not hungry,« I said truthfully. »Can I have my present now?«

  »Oh, go and fetch it,« my father muttered. »Or we won’t get a minute’s peace.«

  »Fine,« said my mother, turning to me. »But you must shut your eyes, sweetheart. After all, it’s got to be a surprise.«

  She stood up and left the room. I obliged her by closing my eyes, even if I didn’t see the point. I would be getting a dog – I’d known that for nine months – so where was the element of surprise in that? Unless I was getting two dogs! That would be even better!

  My heart was pounding in my throat, I was so excited. I heard footsteps as my mother came back. I felt her step behind me and heard a scraping sound right in front of me.

  »Open your eyes!« my mother said happily. »Ta-daaaa!«

  I opened my eyes and saw … nothing. Well, no dog at any rate. The only thing that had changed in my line of sight was a large clay vessel, filled with water, standing in front of me on the table. There wasn’t a dog to be seen.

  »Well, are you pleased?« my mother asked. I looked around but couldn’t see anything fluffy anywhere.

  »What is it?« I asked.

  »Your present, of course!« said my mother, pointing at the bowl.

  »I’m not thirsty, thank you,« I said.

  »But that’s not to drink,« replied my mother. »Have a closer look. It’s what you’ve always wanted.«

  I’d wanted a bowl of water? When was that supposed to have been? I glanced into the bowl. Ah, it wasn’t just water; there was something in there – just not a dog.

  »I didn’t want fish soup,« I said. »I wanted a dog.«

  »Dogs were sold out,« my father said. »I went to the city, but dogs are in high demand right now. They won’t get any more in till next year.«

  »It’s a shame,« confirmed my mother. »So we bought you a different pet. It’s not fish soup. The fish is still alive.«

  I looked into the bowl again. Oh yes, the fish was moving and it was clearly alive.

  »That’s not a pet,« I said with a snarl. »That’s a slimy fish.«

  »Oh, come on, he’s really cute,« my mother said. It felt like she was trying to sprinkle sugar on this bitter birthday present. »And he’s perfect practice for you. If you take good care of him, feed him, and keep his bowl clean, we’ll know you can take care of a bigger animal too. Who knows, maybe then you will get a dog for your birthday next year.«

  As if I’d fall for that one! She’d promised me a dog this year, and all I’d gotten was this fish. I’d never believe anything she said about dogs ever again.

  »But what am I meant to do with this thing?« I asked. »It can’t do anything. It can’t fetch sticks or run around with me outside, and I can’t ride on it either.«

  »Oh, you’ll soon find something to do with it,« said my mother. »You can watch it swimming around. I always find that sort of thing so soothing.«

  Soothing – that was just what I wanted in my boring life.

  »Oh great,« I said with a deep sigh. »I’ve got the worst pet in the world.«

  »That’s not true,« Beenie says. »The worst pet in the world would be a spider.«

  »Spiders are very useful creatures,« Vira replies. »And really fascinating.«

  »Are not.« Beenie shivers. »A girl in my kindergarten class has a pet spider. She brought it in once and everyone ran away screaming. Including me. Spiders are really scary. And yucky. Fish are great though. I really like watching them. There are loads of colorful ones, in orange and green and blue and red.«

  »Mine was green,« I say. »But that didn’t make him any more exciting.«

  However hard I tried, I couldn’t warm to that fish. He was the most boring creature I’d ever seen. He swam dully to and fro in his bowl, and when he once happened to swim in a circle, it was the greatest thrill he’d ever given me. That fish was so boring that I didn’t even give him a name. I paid less and less attention to him every day and did just enough to keep him fed and alive.

  One day, when I was chopping up a piece of bread for him, I cut my finger. Blood dripped onto the kitchen table. I wiped it up with the bread before my mother saw and scolded me – she wouldn’t tolerate any mess in her kitchen, she was very strict about that. And then I fed the bread to the fish.

  The next day, when I was scattering breadcrumbs into his bowl, the fish looked somehow larger. But I wasn’t sure, so I ignored it and thought nothing of it. What did I know about fish? Maybe little growth spurts like that were perfectly normal.

  The next day, he had definitely grown some more. It was unmistakable this time – he could barely turn around in his bowl. As this was the first time the fish had ever stirred even a tiny emotion in me, I clung to it and wondered what could have caused this rapid growth. What had I done differently in the last two days? I’d ignored him apart from feeding time, same as ever, hadn’t spoken to him or paid him any other kind of attention, so it couldn’t have been that. But what else? I lay awake in my coffin late into the day, thinking it over, but couldn’t come up with an answer. The following evening, when I sleepily opened my coffin lid, my ears picked up an almost inaudible voice that I’d never heard before. »Bu-bu!« it kept whispering. – »Bu-bu!«

  Curiously, I climbed out of my coffin and tried to find out where the voice was coming from. In the end, the nonstop whispering led me straight to my fishbowl. When I peeked inside, I could hardly believe my eyes. The fish had grown even bigger. He could barely move. And suddenly, he looked at me with his head out of the water. His mouth kept flopping open and shut.

  »Bu-bu!« he said. »Bu-bu!«

  A talking fish? I’d never even heard of such a thing, whic
h made it all the more exciting.

  »Bubba?« I asked him. »Is that your name?«

  »Bu-bu! Bu-bu!« he repeated.

  »Good, then from now on, I’ll call you Bubba,« I said.

  The fish shook his head and stuck it a little farther out of the water.

  »Br-rr!« he said. »Br-rr!«

  »Brer-rer?« I furrowed my brow. »No, that’s not a nice name. Let’s stick to Bubba.«

  The fish growled at me briefly, then spoke again.

  »Bread! Red!« he said. »Bread! Red!«

  »Oh, you want something to eat,« I said. »Just say so then.«

  Lying next to the bowl was a piece of bread left over from the day before. I picked it up and held it out to him, but he wasn’t biting.

  »Red!« he repeated. »Red! Red! Red!«

  »Red?« I echoed in surprise. »What do you mean? You want red bread? But we haven’t got any red bread. It doesn’t exist. There’s only this. And you’ve liked it up until now …«

  At that moment it was as though the scales fell from my eyes. Suddenly I knew what he meant. The bread. The cut. My blood. The bread with my blood. Could it be? Had my blood caused his rapid growth? And was that exactly why he wanted more?

  I bit myself carefully on the finger and let a little blood drip onto the slice of bread. When I held it out to Bubba, he almost jumped out of his bowl to grab it.

  »You seem to like my blood,« I remarked. »I get that. Blood’s my favorite too.«

  »Blood! Good!« said Bubba, and I thought I could make out a smile on his face. »Blood! Good!«

  »Well, I think you’re a real, true vampire fish!« I laughed.

  »More blood!« demanded Bubba. »More blood!«