Emily walked away, with out speaking. It made me a little depressed. I suppose that is why I ended up dragging myself over to Nathan.
Nathan put me at ease. He was a hawker who tried to sell his wares in one of the worst neighborhoods in this town. Today he was selling some type of food. As I came up to him he didn’t notice me until I was about a foot away.
As he turned and saw me he smiled. He has an ugly smile. The smile of a man who drinks to much, smokes and never brushes his teeth. A smile that seemed covered in moss. It put me at ease.
“Travis, God how are you doing?” He then paused, turned and yelled something I couldn’t understand but from the tone it had something to do with pushing the semi-rotten meat treats he had dieing on his wooden table.
“Hey listen,” he said, “I need you to do me a favor, can you do me a favor?”
I thought about it. This man, when he asked a favor, tended to need more than he asked for. His little favors and errands always seemed innocent and full of good intentions, but in the end these tasks were much to much. Many times I had succumbed to his innocent salesman like pleads. Only to end up a worn out wreck waking up from some blow to the head in a part of town I hadn’t seen for years. Sometimes he delegated to allow me to meat with a young woman. I always messed that up. Woman don’t take to me, neither do the men I suppose. I seem to be too needy and uncouth. I overwhelm most who meat me with stories of my childhood and the horrendous thoughts that stream through my psyche at any particular moment in time. My fascinations with death and the many things I’ve read on the engrossing subject.
I simply asked, “What?”
“Listen, for a while now I’ve been trying to find something. I just haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. Its like women, you always want them. No matter if you just got over the worst fight of your life with them. Or you are engaged with one in sex, if there was a window in front of you, as you are bent over this women, and a woman walks by, you want that woman in the window. It doesn’t matter if the pussy you are having is the best, if it is god incarnate. You want something more. It is never good enough. That is how I feel about this thing right now. I need it like I need that woman in the window.”
I listen to his speil and think about Amanda. The woman I don’t think I will ever stop remembering. I wanted to fuck her and be with her and heal her and destroy her. I wanted her to rip me apart and suck me till I was an empty shell. The lust I felt for her was uncompelled. I would lie in bed at nights masturbating with her floating in the back of my head. She possessed a shadowy disaporoval for me which I always tried to feed.
“Well what the fuck is it? What the fuck has you so fascinated?” I was becoming a little annoyed with him. But he put me at ease.
“Well then I will tell you. Listen, hears what it is, you may find this a little odd, but listen, the thing I need so badly is an organ donors knife.”
I imagined Amanda laying on her back with her brown hair lain out behind her. She would be wearing her black sandals, with no socks, and a pair of heans with a midriff exposing t-shirt. Anger is playing across her face like a pack of leeches crawling under her skin. ‘You are such a self loathing mess,’ she screams at me.
Coming back to what he just told me I was confused. I mean what the hell is an organ donors knife. It sounds gruesome. It sounds fascinating.
“Why? What the hell is that thing anyway?” Me and Nathan have a tendency of talking to each other in very angry tones of voice. It is rather soothing. Nathan puts me at ease.
“Well would you listen? An organ donor’s knife is what they use to take out he organs from a donor. From the cadavers you know?” He had such a wonderfully excited expression on his face.
I loved Nathan, even though he was such an arrogant womanizer. I was jealous of him. He can get cunt after cunt after cunt with out even breaking a sweat. And still he looks out the window for the other one. I am 20 and cannot even get down a girls shirt. He is such an ugly disfigured bastard to. Scars decorate his face in a lattice out of some artists abstract rendition of vomit. He had a multiple cleft lip. When he was a child he was born with his upper lip separated in three pieces. I remember a story he told me that highlighted the drastic measures this sick man would take. He was tired of some teacher giving him bullshit, so he utilized a restroom break. During this break he sat on the shitter and held his right hand up to his face. He paid particular attention to his pinkie finger. After looking at the small appendage he gripped it with his oppostite hand and bent it slowly until it broke, and he kept pulling till he ripped it off. Later he returned to the classroom and threw the finger on his teacher’s desk and never returned to high school.
“I know someone.” That’s all I could say, and it was all that was needed. He smiled again and forgot about me, returning to the business at hand.

I knew what an organ donors knife was. I wanted one as well. A dream I had had the night before involved one of these eclectic knives. Desire for this knife was rivavling my desire for sex at that moment.

02/10/2002

Posted on 02/10/2002
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