What a bunch of stupids (The clockwork boxes 8)

Maggie Taylor

I was a stunning performer when pretending the tortured human being. My outward expression of all of my inner pains had always the naturalite of a person who has really suffered a lot. A person though, whose quality has not lowered at all, despite the grief that has flogged his life. On the contrary, pain has steeled that refined human quality of being sublimely tormented, in such an excellent and superior kindness that it might start dripping through one’s pants or even one’s manchettes. Even my shirt collar started screaming out my geniously  king-like despair. That beast in front of me was, at last, caught in my nets.

He finally turned his head and looked at me, a little annoyed but I could discern a slight flame of some sleepy interest in his eyes. A flame that was ignited more when the sighs of my inner pain started getting louder. I waited that he would ask me «what’s the matter sir??» or « Are you Ok sir? May I help you?»..but no..He was only standing and looking at me again and again and again. He was probably the leader of the calves flock, I cannot otherwise explain his stupidly passive stance which got on my nerves more than anything else. I was about to explode.

«Buy me!»

My tone was sharp and demanding. Having recognised in his watery eyes the leader of the cattle race, I wasn’t able to risk it and  wait for his own signs of interest or pity. I had , by all means, to rise my price. Time was passing and the calves were multiplied. The leather ribbon was full of juicy young little calves and others more aged who were trying to attract attention by showing off other distinctive qualities, such as a tender look of devotion, or a dynamic eye- blinking connotating  their internal flame which was a guarantee for their tasty meat. What a bunch of stupids... How much different I was. I, who was already feeling my tongue getting wider and longer in my mouth cavity...How strange..That slowly longening tongue which was about to choke my larynx, gave to me an intimate feeling, a familiar and known recollection, something undefinable that I couldn’t exactly recall and name in my conscious mind. But it was there and all I wanted to do was just moo. Mooooo I wanted to moo and lick this idiot’s face, filling his cheeks in my tender calf’s saliva, but instead of doing this I looked at him with a brilliant adamant determination, so brilliant and and so adamant that he started searching his pockets like crazy, in order to buy me. Ah that damn one dollar which was my starting price!

He left the money, in a transparent box next to the giant machine and at once the machine recorded the sum and the name of the bidder digitally. In order the procedure to be completed the man bent over and whispered something in an iron ear-shaped slot. The slot gurgled happily and making a strange noise as if it was trying to swallow something, it showed something like a password which represented the real name of  the man.

«You are mine now» he whispered, his eyes  having a weird shine..

«I can use you any way I like» he continued, scanning my appearance  from my toes to my head.

The situation was too much uncomfortable. Having spent a tiny amount of money he could do whatever he wanted with me. He could sell me to someone else or even give me away for nothing to anyone. At least I had also the right to buy live stuff now and that’s what I was going to do at once. I looked around. Bodies were cramming in the room, clinging tightly one onto the other, rubbing their stomachs or their backs. Smiles were flying into air, sad or frowning expressions were begging for someone to pay attention to them, legs were rising up provocatively, tongues were sliding in and out of mouths, cheeks were blowing and perfect dentures of teeth were shining like beautiful foaming waves. There was frenzy in this declining atmosphere combining the sickness of a tragically pale mask and the exquisite glow of a blushing face.