What’s got four legs and is a great listener? A table with a shit load of ears on top of it that’s what.
Had to hand it to Ramos, the ears didn’t seem to faze him at all. He just smiled cordially at our host and ate around the ear that flopped unto his plate.
I on the other hand wasn’t taking things to well. Hey, it’s not like I’m used to seeing someone pull off a Vangogh times a million. The screeching sound the chair made as I frantically scooted back reminded me of my mother in law, and just like whenever I thought of her, my right hand itched for a gun to hold.
“First impressions. They are important no?” His English wasn’t bad, and it probably would have been better if he stopped chewing on one of the ears he picked off the floor. “And I trust I have made a good impression. Now you know I’m serious.” His daughter, unperturbed by the shower of ears refilled his wine glass.
The itch got harder to ignore when he turned to look at me with those milky eyes of his.“It’s not always ears ,” he said, swallowing the last bit of lobe, the green earring attached to it winking at me. “I have taken a piece of every man, women, and child living in my land. A tax I think your people call it.”
Having finished all the food, Ramos now slid the ear to the center of the plate and looked up. “That is what we have come to discuss.” He speared the ear with his fork and brought up eye level. “The world is changing Mr. Santos. “
The old man smiled. He had specks of ear stuck to his teeth. “I have heard that before. My useless son talked about change. Till I cut off his tongue.” He tilted his head and licked his lips. “Would you like to see it?”
My fingers twitched.
Ramos shook his head and returned the smile. “I will take your word for it sir. And you should take mine. The world outside this villa is nothing like you remember. There are pictures of your ‘tax’ on newspapers every other month or so. Your own president has renounced all ties with you.”
“That is what all sons do. Renounce the father. No matter, I’ll just birth another president. My seed is still good.”
“I don’t doubt it sir.”
He looked from Ramos to me and leaned back with a calmness that I knew came from his insanity. “So you two are here to try to kill me, is that it?”
Chuckling, Ramos shook his head. “No sir, nothing of the sort. We’re just here to be witnesses.”
Another sip of the wine. “Witnesses? To what?”
Finally, something I could contribute to the conversation. “To see how well the virus works.” My throat felt dry, so I took a sip of water. From the earless glass mind you. “He,” I motioned to Ramos, “was right in saying the world is changing. No one uses guns anymore. The rage nowadays is biological warfare. Which is a shame if you ask me.”
“But no one ever does.” Added Ramos, still looking at the ear on his fork.
“But one ever does. So biological warfare it is.”
The old man remained frozen in his chair, staring at us with confusion, and then recognition slowly seeped into his face. Just as I’m sure the virus was seeping into his bloodstream.
“Change is good,” Ramos said. “It keeps your enemies from guessing. For example, if you changed your habit of having to make good first impressions, we would have had a harder time getting the virus into you.”
“You..you poisoned me.” He tried lunging at me, but he no longer had the body function to do it.
“Not you. The villages. Every man, women, and child.” I don’t even know why I spoke, he was far too gon.. I kicked him in the ribs. “Over one thousand people will die along with you.”
Another kick, harder this time. “All cause guns are out of style.”
I don’t know for how long I kept kicking him. All I know is that when we left the villa, my hand still itched.
Been a while hasn't it? While I might not be updating the blog as often as I like, I do find myself writing more often, which I guess is good. I worked for most of last week on and off on a writing prompt from a forum contest. Unfortunately the deadline hit before I managed to finish. I'm sort of iffy on what I have so far on that piece, so I might just post it here and move on, although I'm still trying to salvage it at this point. Maybe without the constrict of a maximum words I'll churn out something better.
But anyways Colonel Part Deux is a writing exercise from my creative writing class. We read The Colonel by Carolyne Forche, and our task was to continue where she left off. At first I was going to try to write in her style, which is very matter of fact, almost bullet point like if that's an apt description, but I couldn't think of the right way to approach that style. So I went with my old standby hardboiled one. The teacher didn't want a full story, just a continuation, so obviously I didn't want to make it too long. I think the piece is alright, took me a while to figure out a good way to tie it all together at the end, but I do like the last line.
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