| HOG TOWN FIVE By Paul Corman |
| . Dirk Davies was a good subject for hypnosis. Dr Wiener took him deep and prompted him to remember the day it happened. "You must confront your fears or they will run your life," the shrink had admonished. "Try to imagine how all the other people in your memory felt too." Dirk Davies listened to the Doctors voice and followed his instructions. He could clearly see his father as a young man in the full vigor of his evangelical fervor. A soft tropical breeze blew through the open windows of the little wood frame church. The Rev. John Davies watched patiently as the choir finally finished singing "Kumbaya" for the 5th time. They broke into giggling laughter and sat down on the rough plank benches. They smiled proudly at each other, their white teeth shining through dark lips. It's a good thing these simple hearted people enjoy themselves so easily, Reverend Davies thought. Because they sure as fuck can't sing. The good Reverend grew up in a tough part of North Bay Ontario, with drunken miners fighting in the street under his bedroom window, every Saturday night. He startled his father at age two, while sitting on the paternal knee. The young lad had looked up lovingly into his father's face, smiled and said quite clearly his first word. "Bastard." He prayed every night that God would give him the strength to banish the devil's foul words from his mind. So far God had chosen to remain quiet on that, and many other subjects of interest to the preacher. He accepted it as his challenge to growth in the Lord. As Dr Davies took the pulpit, the small congregation turned their brown faces towards him, like dark flowers swiveling to follow the sun. He looked down at his wife, sitting in the first row with their six-year-old son, Dirk. The overhead fans gently rippled his wife's soft brown hair as she dabbed sweat from the dark hair on her upper lip. Beside her Dirk pulled at the tight crotch of the Sunday best pants that he had long since outgrown. Perhaps the boat will be in next week, the preacher thought, with new clothes for all of us. Dirk felt his father's dark eyes fall on him. He immediately pulled his hand away from his tortured privates. Behind him his friend Tookie kicked the bottom of his seat and giggled. The good Reverend opened his Bible to a passage from Leviticus that saw the old war God, Jehovah, ranting against fornicating and self-abuse. Activities that the islanders participated in openly, despite the ministers warning of hell fire and brimstone. The congregation nodded as he exhorted them to purity of mind and body. Ahmen's and Hallelujah flew about the room like the flock of colored parrots that had taken up residence in the rafters. He knew these simple native people really wanted to please him-to be what he wanted them to be. He also knew that once the Sabbath Sun descended into the blue Pacific Ocean they'd all be rutting with each other like the savages they'd been when he first arrived on the island. Giver me strength Lord he prayed. Sunday was young Dirk's favorite day of the week, after the torture of church was over. It was the day when one of the church families invited his parents and him to eat with them. It was a thankful reprieve from his mother's over-cooked yams and reconstituted salt cod-a treat she had shipped in every spring from her native Newfoundland. He was especially happy today because they were eating at the home of his friend Tookie. While the adults sat on straw mats under the shade of a coconut tree, and Reverend Davies expanded on the morning sermon's theme, the boys slipped off to play. They followed the trail that led along the cliff top. Down below fierce waves crashed against massive rocks, sending spray dozens of feet into the air. A herd of wild pigs ambled along the high water mark, stopping occasionally to nibble on some dead and half decomposed thing. The boys had watched one day while the pigs stripped the carcass of a dead seal down to a few bones in only minutes. Kookie yelled down at the pigs. "Hey snorty." The boys laughed when the big boar twisted his head and looked up at them. Cookie pulled down the fly on his shorts and used his pee thing to shower the prickly hogs. He stood on the edge of the cliff and turned to grin at Dirk. The old volcanic rock had thrust up millions of years ago when the eruption that formed the chain of islands burst from the sea floor. For eons it looked down on the waters edge, backing and cracking in the hot tropical sun. As Kookie showered the pigs below, the edge of the old rock cracked and slipped away. Dirk watched as his friend teetered on the edge. His smile turning to panic. He plunged over the side screaming until his small perfect body smashed into the sharp rocks below. Dirk crawled to the edge and looked at his friends broken body. The pigs had leapt back in fright, but at the smell of fresh blood they closed in around the boys corps. He watched in horror as they began to tear at it with their sharp teeth, pulling off flesh and crunching through Kookie's small bones. By the time Dirk had run to find adults and they'd descended to the shore, there was little left of his friend but some bones and a pair of torn and bloodied shorts. The doctor cleared his throat when Dirk came to the end of the story and stopped talking. "How did this make you feel to see your friend die like that?" the doctor asked. Dirk looked at him. Tears flowing down his cheeks. Two years they'd been together probing and prodding at Dirk's psyche and the old fool continued to ask stupid questions. Dirk toyed with a smart-ass answer. "Well doc I felt pretty good. I was kind of tired of hanging around with him anyway. Good riddance." Instead he got up and slowly walked out of the office, pausing to give the receptionist a cheque and to tell her he wouldn't be back. The old doctor didn't realize he'd left until a woman patient took the couch and started nattering about her cheapskate husband. The doctor wandered, not for the first time, whether it was time to retire. |
| THE WOUNDED SUPER HERO |
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