Abraham Zimmerman (Jebediah Morgan - TBU - Summer Re-Run Contest) (552 hits)
Category: NoneRating: -1.09 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by KindaNews (View user info) at 2006-07-09 05:06:59 EDT
Re-imagined from: http://www.ubersite.com/m/90218
Tommy walked slowly towards the porch of the old Zimmerman house as his buddies watched from across the street. Every impulse in his 10 year old brain screamed to run away as fast as his legs could take him and forget about the teasing he'd endure from his friends. Why'd he have to brag he wasn't afraid of creepy old Zipperman, anyway?
The house was empty, he knew the house was empty. Old man Zimmerman died three years ago. So why was he about to pee his pants? There's no such thing as ghosts, there's no such thing as ghosts, there's no such thing as ghosts...
The second porch step creaked, and Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin. He would've turned tail and run except the feeling of warm piss down his leg filled him with anger, which trumped the fear, but just barely.
I'll show those retards. He stepped onto the porch quickly, and walked towards the door.
Hey, this is okay. I'm okay. Nothing to be afraid of. Just do it. Do it and everyone will know. Everyone will know you're not afraid of anything.
He put his hand on the knob...
* * * * *
Abraham Zimmerman had been almost universally ridiculed since he started school. At first, his very name had been the source of much of the unpleasantness.
Abraham Zipper-man, always is the worst, Abraham Zipper-man, never comes in first!
Abraham Zipper-man sitting on his ass, Abraham Zipper-man, always comes in last!
When he got older, a bad case of acne added to his agonized youth, and the last vestige of the widow Zimmerman's sweet, good natured only child were burned away forever, scorched by the faces of complete strangers who didn't want to look, but couldn't look away.
In a cruel irony, the scars on the left side of his face actually resembled a zipper from cheek to jaw, especially from above, as if God wanted to enjoy the joke along with anyone to whom Abraham spoke. He always looked down in the presence of others.
He hated himself because others did, a cycle fueled by his increasingly unpleasant disposition, and one he found impossible to break.
His self loathing grew like a poisonous pearl, layer upon layer upon layer, until it actually became a source of solace in his war against the world. It was the only thing he could depend on. It was the only thing that was always there for him.
By the time he died, there were only a handful of old timers in town who remembered the sad story of how the lovable child had grown into such a monster, and even fewer who remembered the part his own mother had played in his transformation.
* * * * *
"Mrs. Zimmerman, I want your son to see a dermatologist."
"A what?"
"A skin doctor. A specialist."
"We ain't got money for that sorta thing since his daddy died."
"I don't know what the costs would be, but-"
"And besides, a few pimples never hurt nobody."
"Ma'am, those 'pimples' are open, festering boils. The likelihood of infection
and scarring is high, but with proper treatment, it can be avoided-"
"I said, we ain't got it!"
The doctor was silent as she stormed out, wondering why Agnes spent so much money at the
local bar but wouldn't help her own son. He wondered, too, if she had been irritated because he'd spoken to her so formally in spite of the familiarity of their 'acquaintance' in the bar. It was his office, Goddamnit. He couldn't take the chance his receptionist might overhear something and spread gossip at the beauty shop. He was a married man, not unlike most of the others he'd seen Agnes Zimmerman cozy up to there. He felt a little guilty, but still. Some people needed a lesson in priorities.
* * * * *
Abe Zimmerman sat in his darkened living room, the light from the fire dancing across his grizzled features. Had Tommy or any of the other neighborhood children looked into his face at that moment, there would have been a lot more than just piss running down their legs.
The scars had only deepened with age, and he had become on the outside what the years of abuse had forged on the inside.
It was a face from hell, a face only a mother could love. He smiled at the thought.
It was something he'd heard whispered more times than he could count. His mother. The day she died twenty five years ago he counted among the happiest of his life. And they were few. They were Goddamn few.
* * * * *
The doctor stopped him walking home from school, alone, of course, the day after the wasted appointment.
"Abe," the doctor called out, "hold up a minute."
Abraham stopped but averted his eyes, as was his habit.
"What's up, Doc?"
The doctor smiled at the cartoon reference, until he realized it was completely unintentional. The boy simply didn't have it in him to make jokes, which the doctor suddenly found almost unbearably sad.
"Abe, did your mother mention anything about seeing another doctor?"
The boy's face turned crimson, and his brow furrowed. It was obvious from his reaction she had. It was also obvious she was not going to pay for any more doctors. Why tell him then, the doctor thought, and at that moment he hated her almost as much as her son did.
"Well...Abe...I've got some odd jobs around the house I can't seem to get to, and I thought maybe you could-"
"No!"
The doctor was startled at the boy's vehemence.
"She got money. If she'd rather get drunk every night down at the bar, then...then..."
The boy burst into violent tears and ran away. He hadn't met the doctor's eyes once during the entire conversation.
The doctor stood there and watched him run, fueled by anger and hatred shocking in someone so young.
He thought back to some of the comments about the boy he'd heard down at the barbershop and around town. Some he'd made himself.
He wondered what that must be like, to be a victim of such scorn by so many, and being powerless to escape it.
He was still standing there long after the boy had completely disappeared.
* * * * *
The knob turned and Tommy, surprised, dropped it like a hot penny on Halloween. The door creaked open, and he stood there, mesmerized by what he saw.
A dark figure stood in the parlor, with a head twice the normal size that seemed to shine from within.
And took a step towards Tommy.
* * * * *
"Abraham, please stand and give the class your interpretation of 'Annabelle Lee,' by Edgar Allen Poe."
"Yeah, Zipper-face. Try not to get any pus on the desk."
Miss Jacobsen tried to keep order, but the ensuing bedlam caused her to
dismiss the eighth grade class early. She asked Abe to stay, intending to
apologize, but he ran out with the rest.
Abe cut the remainder of his classes for the day, and went down to the creek to skip rocks. He often went there after school, and stayed until his mother left for the bar, which was right after she'd changed out of her work clothes.
They had spoken only once in the week since the doctor's appointment, and it was a screaming argument about why couldn't she stop drinking and pay for his skin to be fixed, and why was he a spineless little shit just like his father.
It was senseless and painful, and neither seemed able to bridge the widening gap that separated mother and son. Had either of them realized they had both cried themselves to sleep, it still would not have been enough to foster understanding. They were both too far gone.
Skipping rocks always calmed him down, but this time he imagined every stone was a dagger in his mother's heart, and he threw them violently across the stream, picturing himself standing over her as she lay bleeding on the kitchen floor.
Abe knew he no longer loved his mother, but he wondered if he could actually kill her.
What happened that evening rendered moot that most disturbing question.
* * * * *
The doorbell never rang late at night, so Abe knew something serious must have happened. He opened the door and there stood Constable MacDougal, rubbing his bulbous nose nervously.
He seemed surprised when Abe jerked open the door, but he quickly regained his policeman's demeanor and got down to business.
"Abe, son, I'm afraid I've got some disturbin' news fer ye."
"Is it my mother?"
"I'm afraid so, lad. Seems her poor heart failed down to McKenna's place this night.
Doc Jamison happened to be there, and I can promise ye, son, he done his best to save her, but the Lord works in mysterious ways, don't you know. She's gone to meet her maker."
Abe was thinking about the doctor being at the bar, and then MacDougal said:
"The doc saw her passed out in a booth, and he give her somethin' from his bag to help her wake up, only she didn't. Pretty soon she started shakin' like a whore in church, beggin' yer pardon, laddie, and next thing anyone knew she was gone to Gabriel."
"Gabriel?"
"She's with yer dad, now, boyo."
Abe, never the quickest of thinkers, knew immediately that the doctor had killed his mother. And he also knew why.
The tiny grain of love for her still in his heart vanished so quickly it was as if it never existed, and he felt joy wash over him for the first time since he was a child.
"Thank you," was all he said, and he closed the door on the Constable without waiting for a reply.
* * * * *
To Be Continued. . .
User Reviews
Submitted by Average_Dan (user info) at 2006-07-19 02:49:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Stop being silly Method
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2006-07-16 06:35:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Well.
This isn't good.
At all.
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-10 14:35:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-07-10 13:15:29 (#)
Ranking: -2
didnt read. too intimidated.
That's okay, jonny-cakes. I'll summarize.
I used your lame idea for a contest (by the way, participation is a bit light)
to improve bubba's story, kinda like I fucked your shitty story in the ass.
At least bubba's had something going for it, namely, a point. At least he has rudimentary skills.
You have none.
Your 'story' was just too fucking stupid.
Go google some cheerleader shots and leave the writing to those who know what they're doing.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-07-10 14:16:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-07-10 13:21:20 (#)
Ranking: -2
for being Sphagnum.
======
I was thinking the same, and really hoping this wasn't true.
*weeps*
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-07-10 13:21:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
for being Sphagnum.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-07-10 13:15:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
didnt read
Submitted by OneCheapGeek (user info) at 2006-07-10 00:10:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Your douchebaggery knows no bounds, me sees.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-07-09 14:34:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-09 13:12:26 (#)
Ranking: 0
I'll leave that particular hobby to people like you, sac.
-Insult people? Moi? When? I'm a good girl.
haha so 'disinterested' you're quoting a review I gave another poster here. you funny when you mad.
-Again..really bad at recognizing 'anger', you.
I thought you deigned this one 'coherent.' How you know if you no read?
-I skimmed it. It didn't appear to just be a gratuitous stab at the original author, but again, I could be wrong because I didn't scrutinize it.
And that, precious, is good enough for me.
-Me too. Now I've tired of this exchange. Bye bye now.
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-09 14:08:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-07-09 09:36:04 (#)
Ranking: -1
Submitted by whysenheimer (user info) at 2006-07-07 00:59:11 (#)
Ranking: -2
Basically, anything is better than simply inviting everyone to rewrite the posts of others.
At least do something that requires some level of skill.
haha. I just realized you're quoting the guy you punked for criticizing the contest on the original post to criticize me for participating.
Which is it, bubba? You goddamn fucking dipshit moron brainless asswipe fucktard shit eating piss drinker? (did I get everything?) Oh, yeah. HYPOCRITE.
C'mon, bubbabitch. Is the contest only a good idea when no re-writes YOU? Is that how it works?
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-09 13:37:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-07-09 10:40:57 (#)
Ranking: 0
Looks like you do need someone to hand you your content before you can actually attempt to write anything, though.
But that's the contest. Don't you remember? I criticized it, and you said, no, it's a great idea.
Sniff, sniff.
What's that smell, Brick?
That would be the powerful odor of mendacity.
Or else BigBubba's soiled his shorts. Again.
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-09 13:21:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-07-09 09:36:04 (#)
Ranking: -1
You completely misread the charachters of the Doc and Jeb. . .
No, I "re-imagined them" in the words of JonnyX.
I also made them more interesting and gave them stronger conflict and emotional resonance.
How does it feel, Bubba? To have someone, especially ME, rewrite the story you sweat blood over, mere hours after you posted, and do a better job?
And the word is spelled 'characters.'
I'm so excited!
I can't wait for us to finish!
Would you like for me to go first? Seems only fair, so you could get a chance to improve my prose.
But I leave that to you. After all, it was your idea.
Submitted by KindaNews (user info) at 2006-07-09 13:12:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-07-09 10:40:57 (#)
Ranking: 0
You aren't very good at insulting people,
I'll leave that particular hobby to people like you, sac.
or at interpreting their emotions..from what I've read from you on this site anyway. See, when I rate something with a -2, there's no reason to assume that it in any way "made me mad". Disinterest is not anger.
haha so 'disinterested' you're quoting a review I gave another poster here. you funny when you mad.
But this one seemed coherent, at least. Looks like you do need someone to hand you your content before you can actually attempt to write anything, though. I didn't really read it and I'm not going to
I thought you deigned this one 'coherent.' How you know if you no read?
I could be wrong but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.
That makes me feel so much better, sac. But I think you read every goddamn word of it. And you know it's better than Bubba's. And I know that you know. And that, precious, is good enough for me.
Submitted by Sacrilicious (user info) at 2006-07-09 10:40:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Well Thoreau me down.
You aren't very good at insulting people, or at interpreting their emotions..from what I've read from you on this site anyway. See, when I rate something with a -2, there's no reason to assume that it in any way "made me mad". Disinterest is not anger. Neither is recognizing a content-free or subpar post. But this one seemed coherent, at least. Looks like you do need someone to hand you your content before you can actually attempt to write anything, though. I didn't really read it and I'm not going to, so I could be wrong but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-07-09 09:43:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
*characters*
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-07-09 09:36:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
Submitted by whysenheimer (user info) at 2006-07-07 00:59:11 (#)
Ranking: -2
Basically, anything is better than simply inviting everyone to rewrite the posts of others.
At least do something that requires some level of skill.
___________________________________________________________
You completely misread the charachters of the Doc and Jeb. . .
Submitted by Wildman (user info) at 2006-07-09 05:40:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
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