one bloody thing after another . table of contents . about the creators
Chapter one Annette needs to be fed. -- In the back of the paper, someone is always giving away kittens. Free to a good home. Or best offer. Some days Margaret had to go all the way downtown, but today there's a whole litter just over at the rotary. On the phone, she tries not to ask if the kittens are plump. Then she puts on one of her mother's dress shirts, and clean pants. She puts on her nice shoes. In the mirror she sure looks like she comes from a good home. A decent sort of country girl. Her sister Annette starts howling downstairs in the cement room when she hears Margaret at the front door. She hasn't eaten, and she recognizes the sound of the locks. Annette knows where her sister's going, even if she doesn't understand anymore that it's her sister. Sometimes Margaret tells herself that there's a moral difference between killing kittens for no reason and what she does. Killing kittens just to kill kittens would be evil. That would be cruel for cruelty's sake. But Annette needs to be fed. This is the sort of thing that a real country girl would have to do. It's practical, not evil. People kill animals for food all the time. And Margaret can't stand the way Annette gets when she hasn't eaten. Most of the time, it's easy to remember that she isn't really Margaret's sister anymore. She's something else. She grunts and howls and makes animal sounds. But after a few days without food, she starts finding words. Always random words, like accidents, but in Annette's voice. The rotary is down on the northwest arm. Margaret forgot they were doing construction. She doesn't get out enough. It's going to be a roundabout now, is what the big sign says. She's not sure what the difference is. She watches the cars go around. The yacht club is right there. She could just take a boat and go. There's something about the smell of the salt air that makes a person feel free. But her sister needs to be fed, and she has an address scribbled down. So, Margaret is practical. She's a good country girl. She does what needs doing. She fakes a big idiot smile when the stranger opens the door. There's a baby gate across the doorway. There's a formula bottle on the counter, and a blanket on the floor. The woman's got a kid in one arm, and you can bet there are more in the house somewhere, in behind the walls maybe. Scampering rat babies. But Margaret fakes a lovely smile for her and gets into character. Oh my goodness what an adorable baby. Oh my goodness look at these kittens. Have you ever seen anything so adorable? Couldn't you just eat them up? "We didn't think we'd find someone willing to take all of them," The woman with the baby says. "Not this quickly, anyway." Her baby is throwing up on her. "Are you sure your mother's okay with this?" Margaret is half tempted to tell the woman that her mother is dead, but instead she smiles. The woman wipes at the vomit a bit, but misses half of it. It just sits there on her shoulder. "We're in town today to see my uncle," Margaret says. The trick is to keep touching the kittens. Keep your hands on them all the time, like you can't get enough. Aren't they wonderful? It makes you look tender. "My mom and I have a place out in Truro. There's mice in the house, and these guys will have plenty to keep themselves busy." Talk to the kittens, too. "Won't you?" Margaret says. "Chasing little mousies!" "They're great, aren't they?" the woman says. "Is this all of them?" Margaret asks. The black kitten doesn't like Margaret at all. All the other ones are as stupid as this woman, rolling around like they can't even remember to stand up. But this black kitten is looking at Margaret like he's heard about her. "That sounds really nice," the woman says. "Living on a farm like that. Do you want a glass of juice or something?" Margaret brought a carrier with her, and she starts dropping the kittens inside, one by one. The black kitten tries to escape, to climb out of the cardboard box. When she gets her hand around him, he bites her. This is not going to be enough. They're so scrawny. The woman is still smiling at Margaret from the doorway, bouncing her plump little baby on her shoulder. "Maybe a glass of lemonade," Margaret says. They go into the kitchen, and Margaret feels right at home. It is time to be practical here. You have to put food on the table, and these kittens are too small. That baby has got way more meat. There's a knife on the counter, laid on the cutting board, like farm equipment. ONE BLOODY THING AFTER ANOTHER image copyright emily horne 2008. text copyright joey comeau 2008. |