Peeling The Flesh (83 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Parlor Trick (View user info) at 2006-10-24 09:27:04 EDT
This post was an official UberMadness! entry. Click here to view the original matchup.
"Jesus! Look at this!" His name was Calvin but his brother often called him Jesus. "Don't just rip it off, p-e-e-l it or the flesh comes off with the skin," Calvin watched as his brother poked angrily at the pink meat stuck to the back of the chalky sheet of skin. "Now scrape it off so we can work with it," Ramsey shook his head in parental like disapproval, "Jesus, how many times do I have to tell you that?" Calvin couldn't remember, but based on the sizable pile of bones in the bin behind him, it seemed likely it had come up.
"OK, sorry, sorry." Calvin didn't like it when Ramsey was angry. He bent over and picked up the blade that lay on the stained concrete between them and began to correct the problem. Sanitation was not an issue in this business.
The old woman sat in the corner eyeing them but not saying anything. She just sat there with that frown permanently etched on her face and those black rubber soled shoes crossed at the ankle. Ever since Ramsey took over, mother didn't say much.
"Caaaaalvinnn," she would drag out his name until it was stretched into a complete lecture. The words that followed rarely made it to Calvin. They fell on the floor and were later washed down the drain with the rest of the unwanted parts. He glanced in the direction of the blue knit sweater and caught her eye as Ramsey lowered the carcass from the hook. She wore that same "I dare you to look at me," expression on her face as the last time Calvin dared look at her. Still, her lemon colored scarf made the scene in the basement room homier.
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A couple of years earlier, at the unexplainable age of 18, Calvin's older brother Ramsey found himself in orange overalls being rehabilitated for an incident that had occurred at the neighbor's house. It wasn't the breaking or the entering or even the stealing that made the judge hand down the full sentence to the first time offender. It was the cat.
The Sidenstrikers had left for their annual three-week getaway. Ramsey watched from his bedroom window as their oversized RV pulled out of the driveway. He seized the opportunity to solve a little gambling problem that had been calling his cell phone now twice a day. Once mom was dependably asleep, he grabbed his pillowcase and slipped out the back door into the Sidenstrikers backyard and pushed in through their basement window.
The pillowcase was half full with various electronics, silverware, and Mr. Sidenstrikers' framed coin collection, when he first noticed the cat. The animal followed and curled around his feet as he dumped the contents of Mrs. Sidenstrikers' jewelry box into the open bag. Before leaving, Ramsey snatched up a lemon colored scarf, and, on a whim, the cat too. He slipped through night carrying the squirming bag of treasure.
Had it not been for their fathers' fondness of taxidermy, things might have turned out differently. Glassy eyed animals in permanent natural poses circled the boys in the basement as they surveyed the loot. Ramsey pushed the valuables aside and considered what to do with the purring black and white cat lying in Calvin's lap. "Goody kitty, goody kitty," Calvin repeated as a grin slowly crept over Ramsey's face.
Calvin agreed, as Calvin always did, that replacing the Sidenstrikers traditionally live cat with a carefully preserved version, was not only neighborly, but a gut-splitting fun idea. Calvin didn't go with Ramsey the night the feline was acquired or when it was returned to the Sidenstrikers front porch, paw outstretched in a permanently friendly "Welcome Home!" wave.
When the tired RV lumbered past their house and into the neighbors drive Ramsey scurried out the back door and across the neighbors' lawn. He wedged himself within the dense branches of a bush and waited with the landscaping.
"Lady your son ain't too bright. He got his jacket caught in a bush, you should'a seen him scrambling," the cop was enjoying telling the story, but mother wasn't laughing. Calvin listened from the basement, chewing on the flesh beneath his nails.
Father was long gone and not around to enjoy the spectacle. Ever since spending some time with Amy Fisher in the back room of the bait and tackle shop, Father had been in a hurry to leave. He was starting over, and over wasn't going to need the skin scraper, bone saw or the bins of multi-colored glass animal eyes that had kept the bills paid up until now.
Before taking his last bag out the front door he kneeled before his two boys and said "Ya'all be good now. Take care of each other. I'll be back when I can. Keep yer skin on!" He joked as he ruffled their hair and then breezed through the door.
"It's just gonna be me and you for awhile Cal," mother made due.
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While Ramsey was having his confidence boosted at the county jail, Mother handled the family business and Calvin stayed in the basement doing the dirty work. The phone rang and mother assured another customer that their family pet that had just had an ill-fated encounter with the rear tire of an SUV would once again be resting peacefully its favorite wicker basket. "Depending on the...ah...condition of the animal upon arrival, the process usually takes a couple weeks. Yes, there is an extra fee for certain types of reconstruction." Each new plastic bag in the freezer represented food on the table.
Calvin took his craft seriously. Once the messy bulk work was finished, he could sit for hours adjusting the tilt of a Doberman's head. There was always anticipation after the phone rang. Mother would yell in the direction of his basement room a description of the next project. "We got a ferret that got spun in a dryer comin. Most of the bones are good though, shouldn't take too long. Gonna need a couple teeth..."
Once restored, Calvin would carry the mounted creature, to the top of the stairs, smooth the fur between its ears one last time and say goodbye. It was always hard to say goodbye. It comforted Calvin to know that his efforts protected the animals from the harsh influences of life. If only they could stay with him forever.
One day the phone rang and mother yelled, "I'm going to get Ramsey. He's comin home." Calvin paced the basement floor and straightened the tools, paced and straightened some more. Just when Calvin's mind whispered "you been left here alone, ain't nobody comin back for you," Ramsey burst through the basement door and stormed down the stairs. He threw his arms around Calvin " "Jesus, how the fuck have you been?!
"Well, I ..ah...hello." Calvin stepped back, stuffed his hands deep within his pockets and lowered his head.
Ramsey eyed his brother. "Jesus, you're a mess.!" He pinched the girth around Calvin's waist with both hands. "I told mom not to let you suck the fat off them poodles you play with down here! I told her!" Ramsey roared with laughter. He enjoyed his carnivore jokes more than Calvin who found the idea of eating an animal quite out of the question. Ramsey surveyed the scene in the basement. "I'm home now buddy. Things are gonna change round here. Just you and me, like before. "
Things generally stayed the same for Calvin. The phone would ring and the freezer would fill. Mother sat silently in the corner, letting Ramsey call the shots. She was the first to arrive at work and the last to leave. No matter what time Calvin dragged himself out of bed and pushed open the refrigerator room door, mother was there, feet crossed at the ankles.
Everything was in order until Ramsey spent some time with Wendy Foster in the back room of Bast's Bar. "She is h-o-t, hot. Jesus, you should see her!" Ramsey sat on an overturned bucket and made squishy gestures with his hands as Calvin peeled flesh. "Maybe I'll introduce her to you. She's comin over here next Saturday. I'm gonna do it up right. Make it special. Calvin...I think she might be the one," Calvin noted an unfamiliar tone. "I think she might be my ticket outta here."
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When he heard the car pull into the driveway, Calvin made his way to the top of the basement stairs. He heard the click of her heels on the front porch outside. He positioned himself on the top step with a view of the kitchen table where his brother sat waiting, feet crossed at the ankles. Ramsey's head was tilted in the direction of the front door, which was left slightly ajar, his arm outstretched in a friendly welcoming wave.
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Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-06-05 12:23:16 EDT (#)
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