Wednesday, July 27, 2005

A Crime by Janeczka

Ten past four on Sunday afternoon. It’s nice, hot, and sunny. I’m alone, numbed by the heat; I feel like sleeping, and I’m thirsty. I go to the kitchen to pour myself a drink.
The neighbour’s kids are in their garden, playing loudly. No adult with them, it seems. They give me a headache. I glance at them through the window. I drink my water, the ice cubes tinkling against the glass. It cools me down and soothes me. I wipe my brow with the back of my hand, exhaling loudly. Those kids, Christ… they’re killing me. My brain feels like it’s going to explode anytime. I want some quiet.

Back in the living-room, I’m about to sit on the couch and watch mindless TV programs, when I catch a glimpse of the kids on my front lawn. What are they doing here? Selling cookies? They seem to move towards the front door. I quickly go to the window, lift the curtains, and glare at them. Can’t they bloody leave me alone? They see me at last and seem to understand. Distressed, they run away.

* * *

Ten minutes later, and those kids are at my door again. I’m tempted to pretend I’m asleep, but I’m too cross to do that. Instead, I almost run to the door. They’re forever ringing the doorbell, and now knocking loudly as well, and shouting. What the hell do they want? Attract the whole neighbourhood? I briskly open the door, ready to tell them off real good and yell at them from the top of my lungs.
But I don’t.
They’re crying; they’re agitated. I can only make out a couple of words at first. Jimmy. Fell. Was shaking on the ground.
God. One of those kids is having an epileptic fit.
Bewildered, I run to their garden. One of the kids, about five, is lying on the ground, surrounded by three or four other kids. His head is turned to one side, spit coming out the corners of his mouth. His eyes look glassy. I can’t believe this is happening. This can’t be happening.
Another neighbour shows up, alerted by the cries of the children.
‘What’s going on?’
‘CALL AN AMBULANCE! ONE OF ‘EM’S HAVING AN EPILEPTIC FIT!’
Thank God, he has a mobile. I try my best to help Jimmy, but he’s not moving. He’s not responding to anything. I have this terrible feeling that I am too late. I ask one the kids when Jim fell.
‘About ten minutes ago’, he says. ‘We got scared and went to ask you to help, but – ‘
He stops and looks away.
So that’s why they were at my door.
To ask for help.
And I scared them away.

I killed that kid.
With just a glance.




A true story, inspired by a ‘secret’.

39 comments:

  1. Just 'cause no one is sayin' nutin', I am going to call this post cool to the max. Jive.

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  2. Man, I wish I didn't laugh when you called me faggot.

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  3. And if Dan was still here, he'd be like "oh the jocular with, it has disarmed my abrupt tendencies. What jolly folk you all are!"

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  4. Yeah, that Dan would be eating out of asses.

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  5. Thats still better than the pig trough you eat from.

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  6. I don't think. My trough has a liquid soap dispenser.

    Does your ass have a liquid soap dispenser?

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  7. Okay, let me think of something better..... erm.... erm....

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  8. You wash your hands with your penis???

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  9. No! I was my penis with my hands!

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  10. Man, if you got that out first time... I would have shit myself.

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  11. Hey, did you see the floating lady in the side bar? The Link.

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  12. Yeah, Im so fucking pissed. Damn shit-quick fast fingers! My shit-quick cool lap top cant keep up with my mega speed.

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  13. Tell me about it.... actually don't bother.

    I love to throw that bitch all over the place... great fun.

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  14. Yeah I got to know her on ebaums world like million years ago.

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  15. Oh... it's an oldy...

    Just found out about it today like a slow poke....

    A slow poke... what the fuck is that?

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  16. Its an old irish man with a comb-over, a worm tweed suit jacket, a stick, a sheep dog and a pipe who walks around talking about what a "grand soft day" it is and who has yet to learn of electricity.

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  17. I think you just described my dad... god damn it, place a fucking coffin in there somewhere and you have yourself a portrait.

    Amazing... Although the sheep dog would be an anomoly.

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  18. You're dad is an anamoly, in that he isnt a slow poke. Your dad's a legend. He buried my grandmother and two of my great-aunts. Thats a lot of fucking burying right there.

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  19. Yeah, he's good at planting them.
    Oh John Meehan, they say. He's a kind man.

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  20. What... I'm going to get his hands out here now nad gibe them a good look over...


    Wait a minute....

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  21. Holy crap, they're like shovels...

    He's outside making a M&M mountain. Just shovelling tonnes at a time.

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  22. Laugh! Thats one of the best comments ever, so is the one before actually.

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  23. nad gibe... My fingers are tired today from poking holes in my brain.

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  24. Faggots and shovel hands aside I really liked this story. It is very "Jessie"

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  25. Aww, thank you. Even if by 'Jessie', I'm not really sure what you mean, Weird might be a good guess.
    Hey, Rob, do you speak jive?

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  26. Jessie as in hateful of small children

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  27. No.. but I have a copy of Aeroplane that we can use to decipher jive.

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  28. Bang on, Sabi!
    Rob>>Let's decipher jive together, then. You'll be the Champollion of jive.

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