Can You Pass Me
My Pills Please?
I had
been examining the room throughout the day and well into afternoon,
right down to the tiniest detail. I had identified every stain on
the carpet, every scrape on the sideboard, every small mark upon
the wall paper, when, as it went dark outside, my eyes fixed upon
the silver Zippo lighter on the coffee table. I didn’t smoke
but she sometimes liked to light up and relax after a hard day at
work. Worse than any stain, that little silver lighter was hers and
it had to go.
Then it gave me an idea, the kind of idea that made me snigger. I picked it
up and flicked it on once, just to see it work, and then I slipped it into
my pocket. I had quite a few things in the house that were hers. She hadn’t
been brave enough to come and get them yet and I expected she’s send
a friend to get them during the week. I decided to save her the trouble.
I pulled her clothes from my wardrobe and emptied out her draw. I had some
of her shoes too: a watch, a hairbrush, some cosmetics, an aerosol - The icing
on the cake! I bundled them up in her spare blanket and threw them out the
bedroom window. They crashed onto the back lawn. Then I went to the back of
my car and fetched the spare petrol can and shook it out over the pile with
no regard for my own safety or the well looked after lawn. I lit up the Zippo
and dropped it. The rush of flame almost took my eyebrows off.
The hairspray and deodorants exploded, each with a satisfied BANG. As the fire
burnt on I thought of what else I had of hers, the other black stains upon
my home that needed to be cleaned away.
I was
meticulous in my search. I went through the house and sought them
out; gifts, bits, pieces, letters and anything that was connected
with that woman. The need to purify her from my home was intense.
I had to cure the pieces of my life that were now poisoned with her
presence.
Her first love letter to me - now in cinders, an innocent teddy bear condemned
to burn. I was tossing away her dreary Cds when I realised how good it felt
to exorcise these demons. And as the flames died down, I turned around to my
house and thought: “why stop there?” My home, my castle… and
all I could see were more demons: crushed hopes, failed relationships, fights,
disappointment, opportunities missed and gone. A tragic symbol of a life wasted.
It’s hard for me to really remember exactly what happened but when I
weighed up my life and my achievements to date; I think I started to cry. But
I was quick to wipe away those tears, knowing right then what I needed to do
to make it all end.
On the coffee table were the photo albums I had already ravaged for images
of her. I examined the pictures of loved ones I no longer had love for, the
friends I no longer cared for, the past I so detested. I threw them in the
fire too.
Excitedly I went back out to the car. I can’t re-enact it too vividly
as I’m not supposed to get excited, but with the help of a thin tube,
I sucked out the petrol from my tank. I began a trail: from my car in through
my front door, into what I laughably called my dining room, upstairs into the
bathroom, main bedroom, over the bed and into the second bedroom - my half
hearted gym; then back down into the kitchen into the living room out into
the conservatory and toward the dying flames in the garden.
Thank goodness I had enough petrol, eh!
I connected
the trail. The fire raced into the house re-tracing my steps. I watched
it race through into the living room and then I looked to the upstairs
windows. I saw my bedroom light up and the bathroom curtain catch
ablaze.
I was
ecstatic; I jumped up and down, screamed and shouted. I tore off
my shirt, spilling buttons onto the lawn and then leapt from my trousers
and kicked them both onto the fire. As I destroyed my boxers and
socks in the flames, I saw that my wallet had fallen onto the lawn.
I picked it up and looked through it, casually casting aside my memberships
and store club cards. I emptied out my change and incinerated at
least fifty pounds.
Left then were two small cards. There was my Debit card, the piece of plastic
on which my life depended. And my driver’s license; My legal identification
- the essential proof that I was me. Even in the little photo I looked like
I was having a bad day.
I said a loud “So long” to myself and my life support, let them
burn on the fire and took a moment to watch my life disintegrate.
There was some commotion now from around the front of the house. I went through
the back gate into my front garden to see my car burning up nicely. Some of
the neighbours were staring at the house and on their mobiles, calling 999.
Suddenly all eyes were focused in on me
“ Good evening,” I waved to them cheerfully. And with that I walked
off into the sunset. Naked and free.
That’s how I remember it now anyway. It’s all started to come back
to me now, but they say I’m greatly improved and will be better very
soon.
Could you pass me my pills please?
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