Jim Meirose: Why us? Why me?
Image: Unsplash, downloaded (https://unsplash.com/photos/j7wPFNAXdio) 03.07.2022.
Seeding His Furrow-Field
Farmer’s up and down hand-seeding his under-sunned loamy-black furrow-rows fast, but not too so, up, down, down, up, ‘gainy ‘n again; half-day’s gone, good, until.
Wha’? Oh—yes, came gripholdy stranglefood von gripholdy stranglefuel! Poppylock, zoot!
Uck. Hey there ‘iend.
Your down home zero sum patriotical waitstaff compels you, is what. Djinn-strangle Morrey Cooper immediately!
Do what? What you say?
Strangle Morrey Cooper now. Your down home zero sum patriotical waitstaff compels you! Let’s go kill Morrey Cooper now, ‘nd immediately.
Ehhhh. You should not ask me to do such a thing.
Why? Some’ne’s got to help me strangle Cooper now ‘nd immediately if not sooner. Down home zero sum patriotical waitstaff! The Masters say kill Morrey Cooper now ‘nd immediately, if not sooner. Hell, that waitstaff says none less than, Djinn-strangle Morrey Cooper now ‘nd immediately, if not sooner, in a certain particularly precise way.
You should not be asking me of such a thing.
Yes, I should! And we will do this in the following way; in his house, you’ll grip him. I’ll hold him. We strangle him together. Together in his house. Come on.
No! We should not!
Stop that. Come. Once there, you’ll grip him, I’ll hold him, ‘nd we’ll murder him to accomplish his well-deserved execution now, ‘nd immediately, if not sooner. Yes! Yes, you should come help me kill Cooper. Come on we’ll team up and terminate Cooper now, ‘nd immediately. X’citing, is it not? Very much, very x’citing! Let’s enjoy it together, and then. Then you can come back and finish your field-planting. That’s why you hesitate. You’re doing your field.
No, that’s not it. Why must he die? And why us? Why me?
Okay. Stop. Just get it! We’ll go and murder Morrey Cooper now! Then, after Djinn-strangling Morrey Cooper, you just need to take ten or less to immediately prepare him for burial in a previously precisely prepared casket which will be provided to you.
Coldly chill and stare ‘n the air-ice.
This is wrong.
That’s not for you to judge! Throw that over and listen, here; after Djinn-strangling Morrey Cooper, you’ll immediately prepare him for burial in the said previously prepared casket.
Are you not listening?
Of course. Why else have I told you to stop protesting?
But—have you no conscience?
Suddenly saintly eyes hands clasp in prayer, striving for faith flowing down, out, and through, answering as, Listen. Listen; the Masters have spoken. And they are your masters also, remember, so be careful, be careful! Come on, give in, just join me in Djinn-strangling Morrey Cooper, then prepare him for burial with all the precision you’ve displayed in carrying out each past assignment. To be true, it’s your past excellence that gives me pause to hear you so mightily protesting now.
Wait, wait, no—
Jab fingerpoint shut up plus ass’s tweaknose!
Stop! Do not dare talk over me, as you always tend to do! Just meet me at Morrey’s, join me in his slaughter, then take his remains to the place where you’ll find all the necessary tools and materials to promptly prepare him for burial. Then you can come back and forget. Easy.
Easy? No way. I mean, I know Cooper! Why Cooper?
Glance away, back forth, everywhere then, back in low, slow, tones, palm out.
Please. No more. Please. You have become boring. Just come do the job. It will be over quickly. Then, you will forget. So, make it simple. Stop resisting!
Why? I—and you. I thought I knew you, but. Why does this seem so easy for you?
Slow, look down, then up.
Listen. With you, or without you, this will be done. Do not ruin your fine record. You’ve never asked why when the Masters sent down orders before. You knew you had no options when you were commanded from on high those times. This time’s no different.
Ah, oh, but. But—why me?
Simply because! A childish answer, but true! The why’s way above us. Oh, God, Omman! Come on; go use the toilet, wash your hands, pull up your pants, blow your nose, and come with me and do it. Stop claiming none of this makes sense. It makes perfect sense to your down home zero sum patriotical waitstaff. They’re many so more-brained than you. How come that, eh?
No. I refuse to do what you say. I’m not coming.
Back off, stare red, hot left, right eye, air bell-clear between them.
Air, between them.
All right. Then, go sit over there, and wait. After Morrey Cooper’s strangled down, boxed up, deep-buried, and forgotten—which will be done—will be done, because it does make, as the sense of the Masters and th’ and t’ and always makes; the end of Morrey Cooper will come precisely as the Masters have commanded; exactly. It will be seen to. Now; get back, sit down, wait, you have chosen. We will be back for you. So. Be warned!
Um we GripHoldy will be StrangleFuel back to poppylock zoot strangle you, too.
So; gripholdy stranglefuel von gripholdy stranglefood. Poppylock, zoot! Went.
So, rising; Farmer’s restarting upping and downing hand-seeding his under-sunned loamy-black furrow-rows fast, but not too so, up, down, down, up, ‘gainy ‘n again, but; must go a little bit faster this time, in case. In case. Must get to the end where there’s rest, fast enough. Just in case this time’s something like this might be true. Half day’s ‘bout left. Hurry.
About the Author: Jim Meirose's work has appeared in numerous venues. His novels include "Sunday Dinner with Father Dwyer"(Optional Books), "Understanding Franklin Thompson"(JEF), "Le Overgivers au Club de la Résurrection"(Mannequin Haus), and "No and Maybe - Maybe and No"(Pski's Porch). Info: www.jimmeirose.com @jwmeirose