Margaret Atwood - Chapter 2: Bonfire, OrganInc Farms, Lunch lyrics

[Margaret Atwood - Chapter 2: Bonfire, OrganInc Farms, Lunch lyrics]

Once upon a time
Snowman wasn’t Snowman instead he was
Jimmy he’d been a good boy then

Jimmy’s earliest complete memory was
Of a huge bonfire he must have been five
Maybe six
He was wearing red rubber boots with
A smiling duck’s face on
Each toe he remembers that
Because after seeing the bonfire he
Had to walk through a pan of disinfectant in
Those boots they’d said
The disinfectant was poisonous and
He shouldn’t splash
And then he was worried that the poison
Would get into the eyes of
The ducks and hurt them he’d
Been told the ducks were
Only like pictures, they weren’t real
And had no feelings
But he didn’t quite believe it
So let’s say five and a half
Thinks Snowman that’s about right

The month could have been October, or else
November the leaves still turned colour then
And they were orange and red it
Was muddy underfoot – he
Must have been standing in a field – and it
Was drizzling the bonfire was an
Enormous pile of cows and
Sheep and pigs their legs stuck out stiff and
Straight gasoline had been poured onto
Them the flames shot up
And out, yellow and white and red and orange
And a smell of charred flesh filled the
Air it was like the barbecue in the
Backyard when his father cooked things
But a lot stronger, and mixed in
With it was a gas-station smell
And the odour of burning hair

Jimmy knew what burning hair
Smelled like because he’d
Cut off some of his own hair
With the manicure scissors and set fire to
It with his mother’s cigarette lighter
The hair had frizzled up, squiggling like
A clutch of tiny black worms, so he’d
Cut off some more and done it again
By the time he was caught
His hair was ragged all along the front when
Accused he’d said it was an experiment
His father had laughed then
But his mother hadn’t at least
(his father said) Jimmy’d had
The good sense to
Cut the hair off before torching it
His mother said it was lucky he hadn’t
Burnt the house down then they’d had
An argument about the cigarette lighter
Which wouldn’t have been there
(said his father) if his mother
Didn’t smoke his mother
Said that all children were
Arsonists at heart
And if not for the lighter
He’d have used matches

Once the fight got going Jimmy felt relieved
Because he’d known then that he wouldn’t be
Punished all he had to do
Was say nothing and pretty soon
They’d forget why they’d started
Arguing in the first place but
He also felt guilty
Because look what he’d made them do
He knew it would end with
A door being slammed he scrunched down
Lower and lower in his
Chair with the words whizzing back
And forth over his head
And finally there was the
Bang of the door – his mother this
Time – and the wind that
Came with it there was always a
Wind when the door got slammed
A small puff – whuff! – right in his ears

"Never mind, old buddy
" said his father "Women always
Get hot under the collar
She’ll cool down let’s have some ice
Cream" So that’s what they did, they
Had Raspberry Ripple in the cereal bowls with
The blue and red birds on them
That were handmade in Mexico so you
Shouldn’t put them in the dishwasher
And Jimmy ate his all up to show
His father that everything was okay

Women, and what went on under
Their collars hotness and coldness
Coming and going in the strange musky
Flowery variable-weather country
Inside their clothes – mysterious, important
Uncontrollable that was his father’s take on
Things but men’s body temperatures were
Never dealt with they were
Never even mentioned, not when
He was little, except when his dad said
"Chill out"
Why weren’t they? Why nothing about
The hot collars of
Men? Those smooth, sharp-edged collars
With their dark, sulphurous
Bristling undersides he could have used
A few theories on that

The next day his father took him to a haircut
Place where there was a picture of a
Pretty girl in the window with pouty lips and
A black T-shirt pulled down off one shoulder
Glaring out through smudgy charcoal eyes
With a mean stare and
Her hair standing up stiff
Like quills inside, there
Was hair all over the tiled floor
In clumps and wisps they were sweeping
It up with a push broom first
Jimmy had a black cape
Put on him, only it was more like a bib
And Jimmy didn’t want that
Because it was babyish the
Haircut man laughed and said it wasn’t a bib
Because who ever heard of a baby with
A black bib on? So it
Was okay and then Jimmy got a
Short all-over cut to even out
The ragged places
Which maybe was what he’d wanted
In the first place –
Shorter hair then he had stuff out of a
Jar put on to make it
Spiky it smelled like orange
Peels he smiled at himself in
The mirror, then scowled
Thrusting down his eyebrows

"Tough guy, " said the haircut man
Nodding at Jimmy’s father "What a tiger"
He whisked Jimmy’s cut-off hair onto the
Floor with all the other hair
Then removed the black cape with a
Flourish and lifted Jimmy down

'''

At the bonfire Jimmy was
Anxious about the animals
Because they were being burned
And surely that would
Hurt them no, his father told him the animals
Were dead they were like steaks and sausages
Only they still had their skins on

And their heads
Thought Jimmy steaks didn’t have heads
The heads made a
Difference: he thought he could
See the animals looking
At him reproachfully out of their
Burning eyes in some way
All of this – the bonfire, the charred smell
But most of all
The lit-up, suffering animals –
Was his fault
Because he’d done nothing to rescue them at
The same time he found the bonfire
A beautiful sight – luminous
Like a Christmas tree, but a Christmas
Tree on fire he hoped there
Might be an explosion, as on television

Jimmy’s father was beside him, holding on
To his hand "Lift me up, "
Said Jimmy his father assumed he wanted
To be comforted, which he did
And picked him up and hugged him but
Also Jimmy wanted to see better

"This is where it ends up
" said Jimmy’s father
Not to Jimmy but to a man standing
With them "Once things get going"

Jimmy’s father sounded angry so did
The man when he answered

"They say it was brought in on purpose"
"I wouldn’t be surprised
" said Jimmy’s father

"Can I have one of the cow horns?" said
Jimmy he didn’t see why they should
Be wasted he wanted to ask for two
But that might be pushing it

"No, " said his father "Not this time
Old buddy" He patted Jimmy’s leg

"Drive up the prices, " said the man
"Make a killing on their own stuff
That way"

"It’s a killing all right
" said Jimmy’s father in a disgusted
Tone "But it could’ve been just
A nutbar some cult thing, you never know"

"Why not?" said Jimmy nobody
Else wanted the horns
But this time his father ignored him

"The question is
How did they do it?" he said "I thought our
People had us sealed up tight as a drum"

"I thought they did too we
Fork out enough what
Were the guys doing? They’re
Not paid to sleep"

"It could’ve been bribery
" said Jimmy’s father
"They’ll check out the bank transfers
Though you’d
Have to be pretty dumb to stick that
Kind of money into a bank anyway
Heads will roll"

"Fine-tooth comb, and I wouldn’t
Want to be them
" said the man "Who comes in from outside?"
"Guys who repair things delivery vans"

"They should bring all that in-house"

"I hear that’s the plan
" said his father "This bug is something
New though we’ve got the bioprint"

"Two can play at that game, " said the man
"Any number can play, " said Jimmy’s father

"Why were the cows and sheep on
Fire?" Jimmy asked his father the
Next day they were having breakfast
All three of them together
So it must have been a Sunday
That was the day when
His mother and his father were
Both there at breakfast jimmy’s
Father was on his second cup of
Coffee while he drank it
He was making notes on a page
Covered with numbers "They had
To be burned, " he said
"to keep it from spreading" He
Didn’t look up he was fooling
With his pocket calculator
Jotting with his pencil

"What from spreading?"

"The disease"

"What’s a disease?"

"A disease is like when you have a cough
" said his mother

"If I have a cough, will I be burned up?"

"Most likely, " said his father
Turning over the page jimmy was frightened
By this because he’d had a
Cough the week before he might
Get another one at any
Moment: already there was something
Sticking in his
Throat he could see his hair on
Fire, not just a strand or two on
A saucer, but all of it
Still attached to his head he didn’t
Want to be put in
A heap with the cows and pigs he began to cry

"How many times do I have to
Tell you?" said his mother

"He’s too young"

"Daddy’s a monster once again, " said
Jimmy’s father "It was a joke
Pal you know – joke ha ha"

"He doesn’t understand those kinds of jokes"

"Sure he does don’t you, Jimmy?"

"Yes, " said Jimmy, sniffling

"Leave Daddy alone
" said his mother "Daddy is thinking

That’s what they pay him for he doesn’t
Have time for you right now"

His father threw down the pencil "Cripes
Can’t you give it a rest?"

His mother stuck her cigarette into
Her half-empty coffee cup

"Come on, Jimmy, let’s go for a walk"
She hauled Jimmy up by one wrist, closed the
Back door with exaggerated care
Behind them she didn’t
Even put their coats on no coats
No hats she was in her
Dressing gown and slippers

The sky was grey
The wind chilly she walked head
Down, her hair blowing around
The house they went
Over the soggy lawn at a double-quick pace
Hand in hand jimmy felt he
Was being dragged through
Deep water by something with an
Iron claw he felt buffeted
As if everything was about to be
Wrenched apart and whirled away
At the same time he felt
Exhilarated he watched his mother’s
Slippers: already they were stained with
Damp earth he’d get in
Big trouble if he did that
To his own slippers

They slowed down
Then stopped then his mother
Was talking to him in the quiet, nice
Lady TV-teacher voice that meant
She was furious
A disease, she said, was invisible
Because it was so small it could
Fly through the air or hide
In the water, or on
Little boys’ dirty fingers
Which was why you shouldn’t stick your
Fingers up your nose and
Then put them into your mouth
And why you should always
Wash your hands after you
Went to the bathroom
And why you shouldn’t wipe

"I know
" said Jimmy "Can I go inside? I’m cold"

His mother acted as if she hadn’t heard him a
Disease, she continued in that
Calm, stretched voice
A disease got into you
And changed things inside
You it rearranged you, cell by cell
And that made the cells sick and since you
Were all made up of tiny cells, working
Together to make sure you stayed alive, and
If enough of the cells got sick, then you

"I could get a cough, " said
Jimmy "I could get a cough
Right now!" He made a coughing sound

"Oh, never mind
" said his mother she often tried
To explain things to him then
She got discouraged these were
The worst moments
For both of them he resisted her
He pretended he didn’t understand
Even when he did, he acted stupid
But he didn’t want her to give up
On him he wanted her to be
Brave, to try her best with him
To hammer away
At the wall he’d put up against her
To keep on going "I want to hear about the
Tiny cells, " he said
Whining as much as he dared "I want to!"

"Not today, " she said "Let’s just go in"

Jimmy’s father worked for OrganInc Farms
He was a genographer
One of the best in the field he’d done
Some of the key studies on mapping the
Proteonome when he was still a post-grad
And then he’d helped engineer the
Methuselah Mouse as part
Of Operation Immortality
After that, at OrganInc Farms
He’d been one of the foremost architects of
The pigoon project
Along with a team of transplant
Experts and the microbiologists who
Were splicing against infections pigoon was
Only a nickname: the
Official name was sus multiorganifer
But pigoon was
What everyone said sometimes they said
Organ-Oink Farms, but not as often it
Wasn’t really a farm anyway
Not like the farms in pictures

The goal of the pigoon project was
To grow an assortment of
Foolproof human-tissue organs in a transgenic
Knockout pig host – organs
That would transplant smoothly
And avoid rejection, but would also be
Able to fend off attacks by
Opportunistic microbes and viruses
Of which there were more strains every
Year a rapid maturity gene
Was spliced in so the pigoon
Kidneys and livers and
Hearts would be ready sooner
And now they were perfecting a pigoon that
Could grow five or six kidneys at
A time such a host animal could
Be reaped of it's extra kidneys
Then, rather than being destroyed
It could keep
On living and grow more organs, much as a
Lobster could grow another claw to replace a
Missing one that would be less wasteful
As it took a lot of food
And care to grow a pigoon
A great deal of investment money
Had gone into OrganInc Farms

All of this was explained to Jimmy
When he was old enough

Old enough, Snowman thinks as
He scratches himself
Around but not on top of the
Insect bites such a dumb concept old enough
For what? To drink, to fuck
To know better? What
Fathead was in charge of making
Those decisions? For example
Snowman himself isn’t old enough for
This, this – what can it be called?
This situation he’ll never be old enough
No sane human being could ever

Each one of us must tread the
Path laid out before him, or
Her, says the voice in his
Head, a man’s this time
The style bogus guru
And each path is unique it is not
The nature of the path it'self
That should concern the seeker
But the grace and strength and
Patience with which each and every one of us
Follows the sometimes challenging

"Stuff it, " says Snowman some
Cheap do-it yourself enlightenment handbook
Nirvana for halfwit's though he has
The nagging feeling that
He may well have written this gem himself

In happier days, naturally oh
So much happier

The pigoon organs could be customized, using
Cells from individual human donors
And the organs were frozen
Until needed it was
Much cheaper than getting yourself cloned
For spare parts –
A few wrinkles left to be ironed out there
As Jimmy’s dad used to say – or
Keeping a for harvest child or
Two stashed away in some
Illegal baby orchard in the OrganInc
Brochures and promotional materials
Glossy and discreetly
Worded, stress was laid on the efficacy
And comparative health benefit's of
The pigoon procedure also, to set
The queasy at ease
It was claimed that none of
The defunct pigoons ended
Up as bacon and sausages: no one would
Want to eat an animal whose cells might be
Identical with at least some of their own

Still, as time went on and the
Coastal aquifers turned salty and
The northern permafrost melted and the
Vast tundra bubbled with methane
And the drought
In the midcontinental plains regions
Went on and on, and the Asian steppes
Turned to sand dunes, and meat
Became harder to come by
Some people had their doubts within
OrganInc Farms it'self it was
Noticeable how often
Back bacon and ham sandwiches and pork
Pies turned up on the staff café
Menu andré’s Bistro was the official
Name of the café
But the regulars called it Grunts
When Jimmy had lunch
There with his father, as he did
When his mother was feeling harried
The men and women at nearby tables
Would make jokes in bad taste

"Pigoon pie again, " they would say "Pigoon
Pancakes, pigoon popcorn come on, Jimmy
Eat up!" This would upset Jimmy
He was confused about who should
Be allowed to eat
What he didn’t want to eat a pigoon
Because he thought of the pigoons as
Creatures much like himself neither he
Nor they had a lot of say
In what was going on

"Don’t pay any attention to them, sweetheart
" said Ramona "They’re only teasing
You know?" Ramona was one of his
Dad’s lab technicians she often ate
Lunch with the two
Of them, him and his dad she was young
Younger than his
Father and even his mother she
Looked something like the
Picture of the girl in
The haircut man’s window, she had
The same sort of puffed-out mouth
And big eyes like
That, big and smudgy but she smiled a lot
And she didn’t have her hair in
Quills her hair was soft and
Dark jimmy’s mother’s hair was what
She herself called dirty blonde
("Not dirty enough
" said his father "Hey! Joke
Joke don’t kill me!")

Ramona would always have a
Salad "How’s Sharon
Doing?" she would say to Jimmy’s father
Looking at him with her eyes wide
And solemn sharon was Jimmy’s mother

"Not so hot, " Jimmy’s father would say

"Oh, that’s too bad"

"It’s a problem i’m getting worried"

Jimmy watched Ramona eat she
Took very small bites
And managed to chew up the
Lettuce without crunching the raw
Carrots too that was amazing
As if she could liquefy
Those hard, crisp foods and
Suck them into herself
Like an alien mosquito creature on DVD

"Maybe she should, I don’t know
See someone?" Ramona’s eyebrows
Lifted in concern she had mauve powder on
Her eyelids, a little too much it made them
Crinkly "They can do all sorts of things
There’s so many new pills "
Ramona was supposed to
Be a tech genius but she talked like
A shower-gel babe in an ad she
Wasn’t stupid, said Jimmy’s dad
She just didn’t want to put her neuron
Power into long sentences there were
A lot of people like that at OrganInc
And not all of them
Were women it was because they were
Numbers people, not word people
Said Jimmy’s father jimmy already
Knew that he
Himself was not a numbers person

"Don’t think I haven’t suggested it, I
Asked around, found the top guy
Made the appointment, but she wouldn’t
Go, " said Jimmy’s father
Looking down at the table "She’s
Got her own ideas"

"It’s such a shame, a waste i mean
She was so smart!"

"Oh, she’s still smart enough
" said Jimmy’s father "She’s got smart
Coming out of her ears"

"But she used to be so, you know "

Ramona’s fork would slide out of her fingers
And the two of them would stare
At each other as if
Searching for the perfect adjective to
Describe what Jimmy’s mother
Used to be then they’d
Notice Jimmy listening
And beam their attention down on him
Like extraterrestrial rays way too bright

"So, Jimmy sweetheart
How’s it going at school?"

"Eat up, old buddy, eat the crusts
Put some hair on your chest!"

"Can I go look at the
Pigoons?" Jimmy would say

The pigoons were much bigger and
Fatter than ordinary pigs, to leave room
For all of the extra organs they
Were kept in special buildings
Heavily secured: the kidnapping of a pigoon
And it's finely honed genetic
Material by a rival outfit would
Have been a disaster
When Jimmy went in to visit
The pigoons he had to
Put on a biosuit that was too big for
Him, and wear a face mask
And wash his hands first with
Disinfectant soap he especially
Liked the small pigoons, twelve to a sow
And lined up in a row
Guzzling milk pigoonlets
They were cute but the adults were slightly
Frightening, with their runny noses and tiny
White lashed
Pink eyes they glanced up at him as
If they saw him, really saw him
And might have plans for him later

"Pigoon, balloon, pigoon, balloon, " he
Would chant to pacify them
Hanging over the edge of the pen right
After the pens had been washed out
They didn’t smell too bad he was
Glad he didn’t live in a
Pen, where he’d have to lie
Around in poop and pee
The pigoons had no toilets
And did it anywhere
This caused him a vague sensation
Of shame but he
Hadn’t wet his bed for a long time
Or he didn’t think he had

"Don’t fall in
" said his father "They’ll eat
You up in a minute"

"No they won’t, " said Jimmy
Because I’m their friend
He thought because I sing to them he
Wished he had a long stick, so he could
Poke them – not to hurt them
Just to make them run around they spent
Far too much time doing nothing

When Jimmy was really little they’d
Lived in a Cape
Cod–style frame house in one of the Modules
– there were pictures of him, in a carry-cot
On the porch, with dates and everything
Stuck into a photo album at some
Time when his mother was
Still bothering – but now they lived
In a large Georgian centre-plan
With an indoor swimming pool and
A small gym the furniture
In it was called reproduction jimmy was
Quite old before he realized
What this word meant – that
For each reproduction item
There was supposed to be
An original somewhere
Or there had been once or something

The house, the pool
The furniture – all belonged to
The OrganInc Compound, where the
Top people lived increasingly
The middle range execs and the
Junior scientists lived there too
Jimmy’s father said it was better that way
Because nobody had to commute to work
From the Modules despite
The sterile transport
Corridors and the high-speed bullet trains
There was always a risk when
You went through the city

Jimmy had never been to the
City he’d only seen
It on TV – endless billboards and neon
Signs and stretches of buildings
Tall and short endless
Dingy-looking streets, countless vehicles
Of all kinds, some of them with clouds of
Smoke coming out the back
Thousands of people, hurrying
Cheering, rioting there were
Other cities too, near and far some
Had better neighbourhoods in them
Said his father, almost like
The Compounds, with high walls
Around the houses
But those didn’t get on TV much

Compound people didn’t go to the
Cities unless they had to
And then never alone they
Called the cities the pleeblands
Despite the fingerprint
Identity cards now carried by everyone
Public security in the pleeblands was leaky:
There were people cruising around in
Those places who could forge anything
And who might be anybody
Not to mention the loose
Change – the addicts, the
Muggers, the paupers
The crazies so it was best for everyone
At OrganInc Farms to live all in one place
With foolproof procedures

Outside the OrganInc walls and gates and
Searchlights, things were
Unpredictable inside
They were the way it used
To be when Jimmy’s father
Was a kid, before things got so serious
Or that’s what
Jimmy’s father said jimmy’s mother said
It was all artificial, it was just a
Theme park and you could never
Bring the old ways back, but Jimmy’s
Father said why knock it? You
Could walk around without fear
Couldn’t you? Go for a bike ride
Sit at a side- walk
Café, buy an ice-cream cone? Jimmy
Knew his father was right
Because he himself had done
All of these things

Still, the CorpSeCorps men – the ones
Jimmy’s father called our people
– these men had to be on constant alert when
There was so much at stake
There was no telling what
The other side might resort
To the other side, or the
Other sides: it wasn’t just one
Other side you had to watch out for other
Companies, other countries
Various factions and plotters
There was too much hardware around
Said Jimmy’s father too much
Hardware, too much soft- ware
Too many hostile bioforms
Too many weapons of every kind and too
Much envy and fanaticism and bad faith

Long ago, in the days of knights and dragons
The kings and dukes had lived in castles
With high walls and drawbridges and slots
On the ramparts so you could
Pour hot pitch on your
Enemies, said Jimmy’s father
And the Compounds were the same
Idea castles were for keeping you and
Your buddies nice and safe inside
And for keeping everybody else outside

"So are we the kings and dukes?" asked Jimmy

"Oh, absolutely, " said his father, laughing

At one time Jimmy’s mother had worked for
OrganInc Farms that was how his
Mother had met his father: they’d both
Worked at the same Compound
On the same project his mother
Was a microbiologist: it
Had been her job to study the proteins
Of the bioforms unhealthy to pigoons
And to modify their
Receptors in such a way that they could not
Bond with the receptors on pigoon cells
Or else to develop drugs that
Would act as blockers

"It’s very simple
" she said to Jimmy in one of
Her explaining moods "The bad microbes
And viruses want to get in through
The cell doors and eat up
The pigoons from the inside mummy’s job was
To make locks for the doors" On
Her computer screen she showed
Jimmy pictures of
The cells, pictures of the microbes
Pictures of the microbes getting
Into the cells and infecting
Them and bursting
Them open, close-up pictures of the proteins
Pictures of the drugs she had once tested the
Pictures looked like the candy bins at the
Supermarket: a clear plastic bin
Of round candies
A clear plastic bin of jelly beans, a
Clear plastic bin of long
Licorice twizzles the
Cells were like the clear plastic bins
With the lids you could lift up

"Why aren’t you making the locks for
The doors any more?" said Jimmy

"Because I wanted to stay home
With you, " she said
Looking over the top of Jimmy’s head
And puffing on her cigarette

"What about the pigoons?" said Jimmy
Alarmed "The microbes will get into
Them!" He didn’t want his
Animal pals to burst open
Like the infected cells

"Other people are in charge of that now
" said his mother she didn’t seem
To care at all she let Jimmy play with the
Pictures on her computer, and
Once he learned how to run the programs
He could play war games with them
– cells versus microbes she
Said it was all right if he lost stuff off
The computer
Because all that material was out
Of date anyway though on
Some days – days when she appeared
Brisk and purposeful, and aimed
And steady – she would
Want to fool around on the com- puter
Herself he liked it when she did
That – when she seemed to be
Enjoying herself she was friendly then
Too she was like a real mother
And he was like a
Real child but those moods of
Hers didn’t last long

When had she stopped working at the lab? When
Jimmy started at the
OrganInc School full-time, in
The first grade which didn’t make sense
Because if
She’d wanted to stay home with Jimmy
Why had she started doing
That when Jimmy stopped being at home? Jimmy
Could never figure out the reasons
And when he’d first heard
This explanation he’d been too
Young to even think
About them all he’d known was that Dolores
The live-in from the Philippines
Had been sent away
And he’d missed her a lot she’d called him
Jim-Jim and had smiled and
Laughed and cooked his
Egg just the way he liked it, and had sung
Songs and indulged him but Dolores had to go
Because now Jimmy’s real mummy would
Be there all the
Time – this was held out to him like
A treat – and nobody needed two mummies
Did they?

Oh, yes they did, thinks Snowman oh, yes
They really did

'''
Snowman has a clear image of his mother – of
Jimmy’s mother – sitting at
The kitchen table, still in her bathrobe
When he came home from school
For his lunch she would
Have a cup of coffee in front of her
Untouched she
Would be looking out the window and
Smoking the bathrobe was magenta
A colour that still makes him
Anxious whenever he sees
It as a rule there would
Be no lunch ready for
Him and he would have to make it himself
His mother’s only participation
Being to issue directions in a flat voice
("The milk’s in the fridge to the right no
The right don’t you know which is
Your right hand?") She sounded so
Tired maybe she was tired of him
Or maybe she was sick

"Are you infected?" he asked her one day

"What do you mean, Jimmy?"

"Like the cells"

"Oh i see no, I’m not, " she said then, after
A moment, "Maybe I am" But
When his face crumpled, she took it back

More than anything, Jimmy had wanted to make
Her laugh – to make her happy
As he seemed to remember her
Being once he would tell her
Funny things that had happened
At school, or things he tried to make funny
Or things he simply invented
("Carrie Johnston went poo on the
Floor") He would caper around
The room, crossing his eyes and
Cheeping like a monkey
A trick that worked with several of the
Little girls in his class and
Almost all of the boys he would
Put peanut butter on his
Nose and try to lick it off
With his tongue most of
The time these activities just irritated
His mother: "That is not
Amusing, that is disgusting" "Stop it, Jimmy
You’re giving me a headache"
But then he might get a smile out of her
Or more he never knew what would work

Once in a while there would be
A real lunch waiting for him
A lunch that was so arranged
And extravagant it frightened him
For what was the occasion?
Place setting, paper napkin –
Coloured paper napkin
Like parties – the sandwich peanut
Butter and jelly, his preferred combo only
It would be open-face and round
A peanut butter head
With a jelly smile-face his mother
Would be carefully dressed
Her lipstick smile an echo
Of the jelly smile on the sandwich, and
She would be all sparkling attention, for
Him and his silly stories
Looking at him directly
Her eyes bluer than blue what
She reminded him of at such times
Was a porcelain sink: clean, shining, hard

He knew he was expected to appreciate
All the effort she had put
Into this lunch, and so he too
Made an effort "Oh boy
My favourite!" he would say
Rolling his eyes, rubbing his stomach in a
Caricature of hunger, overdoing it but
He’d get what he wanted
Because then she would laugh

As he grew older and more devious
He found that on the days when he
Couldn’t grab some approval
He could at least get a reaction anything was
Better than the flat voice, the blank eyes
The tired staring out of the window

"Can I have a cat?" he would begin

"No, Jimmy, you cannot have a cat we’ve
Been over this before cats
Might carry diseases that would be
Bad for the pigoons"

"But, you don’t care" This in a sly voice

A sigh, a puff of smoke "Other people care"

"Can I have a dog then?"

"No no dogs either can’t you find
Something to do in your room?"

"Can I have a parrot?"

"No now stop it" She
Wouldn’t really be listening

"Can I have nothing?"

"No"

"Oh good, " he would crow "I can’t
Have nothing! So I get
To have something! What do I get to have?"

"Jimmy, sometimes you are a pain in the ass
Do you know that?"

"Can I have a baby sister?"

"No!"

"A baby brother then? Please?"

"No means no! Didn’t you hear me? I said no!"

"Why not?"

That was the key, that would do it she might
Start crying and jump
Up and run out of the room
Banging the door behind her
Whuff or else she might start
Crying and hugging him or she might throw the
Coffee cup across the room and start
Yelling, "It’s all shit, it’s total shit
It’s hopeless!" She might even slap him
And then cry and hug him it could
Be any combination of those things

Or it would just be the crying
With her head down on
Her arms she would shake all
Over, gasp for breath
Choking and sobbing he wouldn’t know
What to do then he
Loved her so much when he made her unhappy
Or else when she made him
Unhappy: at these moments he scarcely
Knew which was which he
Would pat her, standing well back
As with strange dogs, stretching out his
Hand, saying, "I’m sorry, I’m sorry"
And he was sorry, but there
Was more to it: he was
Also gloating, congratulating himself
Because he’d managed to create such an effect

He was frightened
As well there was always that knife-edge:
Had he gone too far? And if he had
What came next?

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