[Little Miracle, 724 words, Genre: Dark Humour]
* Image courtesy of Dirk de Bruyn
Reginald lay in bed holding his stomach. It had been a big night, a night of excessive extremes. He had drunken himself into a stupor and walked around the city until he found a kebab shop. Once he had arrived at the kebab shop he had eaten two or three of the things before returning home via taxi. And now the sun had risen, the sunshine crawled in through the open window and shone a light into his eyes as he lay on his bed. He held his gut, the beer and kebabs that he had consumed the previous night were now wreaking havoc on his internal organs. He groaned and held his belly. He felt it coming on, he was not going to puke, but the churning of his stomach were about to produce a product of his bowels. With a headache, he made his way to the bathroom.
He sat on the ceramic throne and held the sides of the small enclosed space. His pasty white skin went red and then he pushed. His sphincter stretched to an excessive degree. It was difficult to see exactly what he was producing from his own vantage point. Sweat ran down his forehead as he pushed… His face went red and he breathed quickly. To make way for that which was about to be produced he panted. He opened up his mouth and panted and guffawed. There was pain. There was a lot of pain. He sat there on the ceramic throne for the next hour and when it was over, a release sweat broke out on his brow. He regained his breath and then rolled out a handful of toilet paper, stood up and then went to wipe his bottom. There was blood on the toilet paper. Blood and faeces and this gel like substance that he didn’t quite recognize.
He turned around and had a look at the products of his labour. There, sitting in the ceramic throne, was this creature. It was crying out to him. Reaching out its little hands… He had given birth to something. He didn’t know what it was, but he was shocked to see this creature. This tiny baby reaching out its hands and crying.
He took a step back in shock and horror. “What the fark is that!?” He called out in the bathroom. “What the fark is that!?” He called out. The creature raised out its arms to him, whatever the creature was, Reginald was its father, its mother, its surrogate parental.
He opened up the door to the bathroom. He had to get out of there. As he made his escape the creature began crying. Reginald began frantically knocking on the bedroom door of his brother who lived with him, “Callum! Callum! You’ve got to see this! You’ve got to see this!”
His brother, who had only just begun to wake up, slowly made his way to greet his brother. His brother opened up the door and saw his brother who was in a state of shock. Callum adjusted his glasses on his head, “Yes, what is it?”
“I just took a crap.”
“Well, it’s not an ordinary crap. The crap is crying and reaching out to me.”
“The crap is crying.”
“Yes, yes, have a look.”
Callum went to see what the commotion was. When he saw the creature sitting in the ceramic bowl crying, he didn’t know what to say. He just stood there shocked.
“Well, what do we do with it?” Reginald asked.
“I’ll get a towel and we’ll clean it first.”
So Callum got a towel and then they picked up the creature and cleaned it. They wiped off the excess faeces, blood and gel like substance. After they had cleaned the creature, they threw out the old towel and wrapped it up in a bright white fresh one. The creature’s flesh was grey, with streaks of yellow that ran down its side. It had ears that were the size of a button and a small round head, the size of a tennis ball. Now that the creature had been cleaned and taken care of, they stared at it.
“What is it exactly?”
“A miracle, I guess.”
Reginald held the creature and smiled down upon it. Rocking it back and forth in his arms. “One of life’s little miracles.”