Ben C. O. Grimm

The white is so pure, it almost hurts my eyes. Still, the salty air feels strangely soothing. I close my eyes for a minute and let the memories take a refreshing bath. I used to go to the sea shore in the old days, when dad was still alive. Just behind the dunes, we would sodomize the pigs and chew on dune rabbit's ears, preferably with some life left in them. Those were fun days, even though we never got around to tell mom about it and watch her hyperventilate in agony. A missed opportunity, and I still kick my dog for it. No harm in that, I suppose. It's been dead for three months now. Ah, so wonderful. Relaxing, feet up on the table. Just a small cool sip, and a look around. All these kids seem to be having fun. Shiny faces. They scream a lot. Shrill voices, with a fine balance between pleasure and fear. Another memory triggered. Okay, I'll drop my eyelids and make room. Ah yes. That time when me and my older brother trapped a few kids in a bunker. A lot of initials to carve with these dull knives. Working in the dark wasn't easy. When we set fire to them, we were confronted with the results of our craftsmanship. Good thing we burned the evidence. My artist brother wouldn't want to be bothered with these juvenile attempts at fine arts. His paintings are selling like crap, and rightly so, because that's their main ingredient. He said he smelled a profit, and he was right. The color has changed. No more glaring white. A faint pink. Another drink. These cocktails have wonderful names, and the girl serving them is equally wonderful. This is bliss, I tell ya. A drink with a view. She reminds me of my wirst wife. She was a woman too. Such a shame she couldn't resist proving it any other way than to convince as many men as possible of her gender. She shouldn't have practised at home, though. It took us such a long time to get a decent plumber. Locking him in the garage with the engine of my car running was a hard decision to make. Still, I did my duty and buried him in a nice park. We had been discussing my garden on numerous occasions and I was pretty sure that he wouldn't mind contributing to nature's course. I thought about putting my wife next to him, but that would have been too rewarding for both of them. He had done a fine job in plumbing, and she reaped the benefits by witnessing his work up close and personal, even though her passage was quick. Oh, it's so nice here. A yawn, a stretch. Yes, miss, I'll have the Gibbon Overflow Rickenbacker Sphincter Pinch Special please. No, hold the umbrella. Reddish now, the color. So nice. Maybe a quick cool ocean dive? No, I think I'll just stay here for a while and watch the others. I have a strange fear of drowning. Maybe I shouldn't have done that to my former college roommate Esther. She wasn't so bad. It's just that she pissed me off when she threatened to scream her lungs out when I managed to gain access to her bathroom. Okay, so I was naked, carrying a respectable erection, a jar of vaseline and a baseball bat, but there was no need to get upset or anything. She just rubbed me the wrong way, and her blowdryer was the quickest way to silence her. I felt somehat uneasy afterwards, but I'm still pretty proud of the fact that I managed to remember to take the blowdryer out of the tub before proceeding with what I had wanted to do in the first place. It's not easy to juggle all these objects at the same time when the other person is not an active participant. So I cramped, slipped, and almost drowned. Pretty straightforward stuff, I guess. So, how's the score? Getting pretty red now. No hurry. The day's still young, and the atmosphere is charming. People on their holidays are so relaxed and friendly. Look at that old couple. Oiling each other up with sun lotion, careful not to rub too hard. You can see their combined history in their trusted movements and lack of words. I knew a couple just like them. Let me think. Oh yes, thank you. I'll have the Guano Imperator Global Warming with crushed ice. Where was it? Ah yes, in Italy. Hitchhiking from Rome to Naples. They had such a small car, and my legs are so long. But they managed to fit me in and tried to make small talk in a quaint kind of English. Too bad for them I was so tired of standing with my thumb in the air. So nice to have a car. When I jammed the screwdriver into her skull, the old man just sat there and whimpered softly. So gentleman-like, so controlled. None of that Italian temper. He even offered me the car for free after that. But hey, I didn't want to leave him a mourning widower. So I just tied him up and drove over his head twice. See, that's the problem with these small cars. They're so damn light. I had to use the jack to finish the job. Luckily he was still alive to tell me where to find it. Foreign cars can be so odd. I would never have found the jack without his help. Ah yes, holidays are so beneficial to the memory. Now, the color. Very, very red. Small blisters are forming. I'm pretty sure it will hurt like hell. Ah well, the little inconveniences of summer. I've had enough cocktails anyway. I'll just get up, leave the shade of the parasol and wake her up. No need to be cruel, is there?

© Ben C. O. Grimm