“Eggs?” asked Arif.
“Yes, eggs.”
“Free range?”
“Caged.”
“Oh.” Arif’s lips made an "O" as the sound of the “oh” lengthened and faded.
Myron’s head twitched, it was involuntary. “They are perfectly good eggs.”
Arif grimaced. “Battery?”
“Caged.” Myron sounded enthusiastic like a salesman.
“Battery.” Arif looked stern.
The two boys stared at each other; Myron with the grey, cardboard carton hanging from his right hand, Arif with his hand’s raised in the air.
“So is that a no?” asked Myron.
“I think it is.”
“Aren’t you hungry?”
“No, it’s a matter of principle.”
“Really? Principle? They are chickens.” Myron emphasised the “ch” sound.
Myron bought his right hand, with the carton of eggs in it, together with his left hand, and he held the box in both hands in front of him. He looked down.
“These are the only eggs I have.”
Arif raised his hands in the air. “We can’t eat them.”
“What would you have me do with them?”
“I have a suggestion.”
Arif smiled.
Myron put the eggs down on the kitchen counter.
“Which would be what?” said Myron.
“You can shove them up your…”
Myron smiled, he couldn’t help it, he felt his cheeks crease.
Arif pushed his top teeth over his bottom lip, slowly.
Myron slid his fingers across the cardboard carton, the grey material felt porous and dry. He ran his pointer finger down over the front of the packaging and slipped the tip of his finger under the lip and flicked the lid open, all the time holding Arif’s gaze.
They both looked down.
The brown domed tops of the eggs lined up in two rows… like soldiers… or university professors… or the terracotta warriors
Myron looked at Arif. He looked down at the egg. He took the very last egg in the packet between his fingers. He lifted it and rolled his hand over at the wrist and held the egg in the air, gripping it with all five finger tips.
He moved the egg steadily up through the air to his face and slid the egg into his left nostril until it disappeared out of sight.
He selected the next egg in the carton, also raising it to his face and sliding into his right nostril, completely.
His nose resembled the engines of a Lear jet.
“Is that what you meant?” he said, seemingly from the back of his throat.
“Not exactly.” Arif lifted his hand and slapped the left side of Myron’s nose, sharply. There was an audible crack!
Myron resisted the urge to raise his hand to his nose. A wet globule, like a large oyster, dislodged from Myron’s nostril and yellow and white, slippery and wet, fell thick like-mucus over Myron’s top lip and chin, hanging down in strings, tendrils of slime, stretching to the counter like a bungee cord.
“Better?” asked Myron sarcastically.
“No! I like tomato sauce with my eggs.” Arif lifted his hand and punched Myron hard in the nose. Drops of blood fell immediately in splatters onto the egg box, where they soak in like blotting paper and onto the bench, where they sat in small spheres.
“Ouch!” Myron lifted his hand to his face.
“Now you know how the battery hens feel.”
“Is that a debeaking?” Myron slid his hand under his nose.
“A debeaking?” Arif nodded his head and winked.
Myron touched his nose gingerly. Scarlet blood dripped onto the back of his hand.
Myron resisted the urge to raise his hand to his nose. A wet globule, like a large oyster, dislodged from Myron’s nostril and yellow and white, slippery and wet, fell thick like-mucus over Myron’s top lip and chin, hanging down in strings, tendrils of slime, stretching to the counter like a bungee cord.
“Better?” asked Myron sarcastically.
“No! I like tomato sauce with my eggs.” Arif lifted his hand and punched Myron hard in the nose. Drops of blood fell immediately in splatters onto the egg box, where they soak in like blotting paper and onto the bench, where they sat in small spheres.
“Ouch!” Myron lifted his hand to his face.
“Now you know how the battery hens feel.”
“Is that a debeaking?” Myron slid his hand under his nose.
“A debeaking?” Arif nodded his head and winked.
Myron touched his nose gingerly. Scarlet blood dripped onto the back of his hand.
No comments:
Post a Comment