Feb 26, 2013

The end of Chapter 4, or Chapter 4, Part 6

It was far past the moon hour. It was the awful hour, the malformed fetus of morning and night. The time when day is trying to break through night and night is still fighting to remain. The time when if one wakes up and has the misfortune to witness it, one usually cannot sleep. One figures one may as well stay up because one has already witnessed the end, one has already seen what’s to come. How can one sleep after witnessing genocide? Greta was awake.

“Oh god, I hate birthday wishes.” Old photo albums were strewn across the floor. Pictures of a young girl with party hats and birthday cakes decorated the albums. “I think I’ve wished for nothing two years in a row now and then immediately thought what a selfish prick I was. Sucks. Sucks, sucks, and sucks. Nothing? What about world peace? Oh, but there can’t be world peace, someone’s utopia is another’s dystopia. What about no violence? Everything is laden with loopholes. Birthday wishes are like the annual genie’s gotcha. I hate them!”

Greta sat cross legged with Gumbo in her lap.

“I didn’t wish for you!”

Gumbo purred.

“You were a gutter baby.”

Gumbo purred.

“How any person could leave you to drown in the gutter…”

Gumbo purred.

“Well, that’s precisely why I don’t make birthday wishes.”

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