Food for Thought

I suicided once. I -- tried, that is. I tried it and failed. When you can't even quit without messing up you come to reconsider things -- suddenly you've gone as low as you can go and you might as well get up and try again.

So I did. And I wandered around the world for a bit, everything tinged with a new colour. I even wondered if others could see it -- had seen it. Or maybe I was the only one who could see this fresh shade of things. I never actually asked, because I was too shy. Imagine that.

But, you know, I managed, like we all do, and things began to come together, and I got a new job, and it was all just a tornado of sunrise. New light, so to speak; and not only on that spot on the horizon, but all around me. It was blinding.

I was the blind leading the blind. It was a curious stroke of irony that my life was worth living only when I was helping others live their lives. Without killing themselves. As they're prone to do. We were all leaning in, shoulder to shoulder, our weight on the next guy -- but when one fellow trips the lot goes down the hole. Take it from me, as one of the few who's escaped: You don't want to fall down that hole.

It was night outside. Inside it was dawn, I guess, because that sounds poetic and is somehow appropriate. And further on the inside, it was pitch black. The only way you could let the light in was to open your mouth.

"Suicide hotline, how may I help you?"

They told us to answer the phone politely, to act as if manners mattered.

"Um, yes, hello."

The voice on the other end was timid, like I used to be. It was tinted with squirminess -- dontwannabehere, dontwannatalk. I understood, unfortunately. I let him know I understood, though that made me just as squirmy.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Like... dog food."

Well, that was different. Normally they are crap. But tonight he is food that tastes like crap. This piqued my curiosity -- then again I was being paid for it.

"Are you feeling suicidal?"

Because I hate people wasting my time, I hope yours is close to running out.

"Um, no," he said. "Not -- not anymore."

I had to be gentle. They told us to be gentle.

"Okay," I said patiently. "What may I help you with, then?"

"I'm sort of... in the middle of it."

"In the middle of what?"

"Uh, suicide."

Yes, I remembered that one time when a woman was hanging by a clothesline over the busy city street. So she calls me instead of 911 because 911 is a complicated number.

"Okay, first of all, don't panic. Take a deep breath. Tell me how -- how you're dying."

I braced myself for the worst.

"I'm lying -- I mean, I'm on the floor," he began.

Metaphors; sure, they're always lying on the floor. But that's because they knocked themselves down.

Or else -- he's lying to me, or to someone on the floor. Maybe himself.

"Okay. Can you sit up?" I asked.

"Um, wait -- I wasn't finished."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Please continue."

"Well, there's this dog -- my dog, I mean. And he's, uh, he's cracked open my skull and right now he's eating my brains."

All right. Unusual, but not something I can't handle.

"Okay, now, listen closely. Now, when you say eating your brains... are you sure you don't mean your brain, singular? Because they're different. Linguistics -- um, to explain: the former implies your brain is in pieces, while the latter --"

"No," he interrupted. "No, my brains. He's slurping them out like noodles."

"Oh, heh. Woof woof? Eh?"

I quickly grabbed my pen and notepad and started scribbling down the details. To make it look like I had done my job.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Brian," came the answer, sounding rather unsure.

"Okay. Brian, I want you to tell me how the noodles taste."

"Um... I can't, really... maybe you misunderstood? The dog -- my dog is eating me. Not the other way around."

"Yes, that's very good; I understand. But with this fusion you're speaking of -- your brain, going to his stomach -- I figured you might be able to tap into his gustatory sensors and just tell me what's going on."

They had told me to record everything. Ask a lot of questions.

"No," he said. "I can't do that."

"Hm, very well. Ah, in that case -- why don't you tell me how you got in this situation, Brian? What makes you want to take your own life?"

"Can you send me some help fir --"

"We'll get to that, Brain," I said, fatherlike. "Let's start with how you got in this situation."

"Uh, okay. Well, I guess it started because I was feeling guilty --"

"And what were you feeling guilty about?"

He hesitated and drew a sickly breath.

"I couldn't -- feed my dog; listen, could you send a police officer or an ambulance or som --"

"Now hold your horses," I said with a smile. "Let's lay the facts down, Brian. Okay? I can't help you if I don't know how to help."

"I -- okay, I'm sorry, it's just that he's really tearing me up and..."

He was suffering from denial. They all do, to some extent -- he thought that an ambulance would help him, when what he needed was a mind lozenge to soothe those sandpapery synapses.

"Take it slow, friend," I said.

Relate to the patient. Everyone is your buddy.

"All right," Brian said. "Okay. Um... so, yes, I didn't have enough food to feed my dog --"

"And what's your dog's name?"

"Fido."

I wrote Odif in my notebook, just to piss them off later.

He continued: "... and I was feeling -- feeling real bad about it, so I tried to kill two birds with one stone and... kill myself and feed him at the same time."

I shook my head. Even a four-year-old knows that two birds cannot be killed with one stone. If the analogy doesn't work, why would it be practical in reality?

"... I got a chisel and made a little crack in my skull."

"Was there any... blood?" I asked.

"Yes, a little... but not as much as I thought."

It's never as much as they think it would be. There's not that much blood in the human body; there's just not. How many wine glasses? I don't know, I forget.

But then I caught it.

"Wait a minute, Brian," I spat. "Before you said your dog had cracked open your head. What the hell are you trying to pull here -- is this a prank call?"

"No, I..." He gave a low moan. "I'm sorry, but -- but it's -- the brains -- my brains are going through the stomach and the acid..."

Acid burns, the liquid fire.

"Oh, I see," I said skeptically. "So you are... your thought-noodles are being digested?"

"My -- my brains, yes."

It's amazing how I had overlooked my most beautiful sense.

"Why can't I hear the dog eating your grey matter, Brian?" I said softly.

He sort of laughed -- a demonic little giggle, really. Nervous.

"He's a mute," he mumbled. "He took a vow of... em... silence when he was young."

I laughed.

"You're joking with me now, aren't you?" I said.

"Heh... yes. Yeah."

I chuckled to myself silently. It's amazing the sense of humour one has in the thralls of despair.

"I want you to do something for me," I said. "Can you describe what you feel?"

"I -- feel... weak. I need medical -- a doctor --"

"No, no; I mean, could you describe your journey? Slithering through a canine's intestines and all? What does that tell you?"

"It's -- slippery."

"Rather like a skating rink, is it?"

I heard a retching sound through the receiver, like someone was terribly sick on the other end.

"Yes," Brian panted. "A bit."

"Then I hope you die, liar. Your brain has no sense of touch."

There was silence on the other end -- he was no doubt surprised by my wit.

"Have you gone through?" I asked. "Has your plate of brains been consumed?"

And I knew it had.

They always end this way -- with silence. Few people go screaming, and fewer go with their phones in hand.

What in the --? Pork! My immediate reaction to this can hardly be put into words, let me step away from the laptop for a moment and think. Okay. Okay-- my god. Wow. Okay. Pork--? Okay. Wow.

This was pretty awesome.

There's issues with it still, but overall it must be said that this is certainly a very original and unique piece of writing. And you had my attention the entire way through, moreso than most stories on here have been able to do lately. I mean, the shock factor is pretty high with this. There are a lot of peculiar scenarios I was imagining for a suicide, but never once has a dog eating someone's brains ever come up. In fact, I've never thought about that regarding any subject whatsoever.

I mean, I was probably making faces the entire way through reading this, and isn't that what you really wanted?

Anyway. When it comes to your main guy, there's a few things at the beginning and then concerning his attitude the way through. Really, this paragraph:

So I did. And I wandered around the world for a bit, everything tinged with a new colour. I even wondered if others could see it -- had seen it. Or maybe I was the only one who could see this fresh shade of things. I never actually asked, because I was too shy. Imagine that.

Was he unsuccessful the second time? I figure the new color bit is coincidental and doesn't have to do with death so much as an enlightening near-death experience. And I don't quite see the point of the "Imagine that", as we really don't know enough of his personal character to see him as shy or otherwise.

At the beginning the new light and color bit seems optimistic, and there's a tone that he wants to help people - though that's clearly not what he does through the rest of his story with dog-brains. There's really not a clear sign as to why he turns malicious and sarcastic when the beginning has an ironic but light tone to it. Also, the ending is very weak. I expected there to be maybe more of a conclusion to the conversation, other than him saying he felt like crap indeed, not just dog food. It seems he really wanted the guy to die, when such intent is never really hinted to earlier in the story.

Still all very funny, and twisted. Even insulting in some parts, most likely. Way to go.

~ Clo

Hey there, Prok. Way to use 'then'

So not going there, ha.

It was a curious stroke of irony when my life was worth living only when I was helping others live their lives.

exchange the first 'when' to 'that'.

I'm in agreement with Clo, the ending seemed very random. It begins with a light, almost sardonic outlook on suicide and an optimistic tone but changes very quickly into the protagonist facilitating suicides and apparently enjoying it, having done it before, etc. Very strange. It definitely had the shock factor you were no doubt going for but in review, it doesn't really work.

Rather, I thought it was very amusing and well done when I thought the concept you were going for was of someone being helped to death. That is to say the suicide hotline person was so intent on helping the 'mental' side of things they ignored the repeated pleas for help -- that was very funny -- and the idea of the cynical, disbelieving operator facilitating the death was great, very well presented with a pointed message that remains darkly funny.

It was all good -- until the last lines:

But they're so stupid. They give me the power over life and for those few moments I am in ecstasy. Of course it is an illusion, though. Of course they're talking to themselves.

The sound of a dog barking drifted from the phone.

I smiled. He would feel like crap after all.

I think if you cut all that, it would be a much, much stronger and more effective piece.

They always end this way -- with silence. Few people go screaming, and fewer go with their phones in hand.

That's the money maker right there, leave it at that. Alternatively the last line could also be 'The sound of a dog barking drifted from the phone.'

Good stuff.

Cheers

what he needed was a mind lozenge to soothe those sandpapery synapses.

Best line ever?

This was full of all kinds of win.

I love narrators with an original voice. I found this guy amusing. Despite lacking any sympathy whatsoever for a dying man, I still liked him. Which is good thing.

The opening was a good hook -- someone who was once suicidal, is now working on a suicide helpline? The irony was excellent.

It's quite a twisted story. The ending was probably not as successful as it could have been. The story seems to peter out after a strong beginning and middle, and the conclusion to the phone call is not as funny or ironic as earlier sections.

As a piece of black comedy, I think this hits the mark in all the right ways. There's a potential for improving the ending, but I think you have a good, short piece right here. Let me know if you write anything similar.

Hi Prok!

So, this was filled with a lot of black humor awesomeness, just the sort of thing I would expect from you.

I didn't find much wrong with this piece. I did think that the end of the middle, when she starts accusing him of being a prank caller, was a little loose. I got confused there cause I didn't quite understand why she went back to taking him seriously after that. Perhaps if you rework that a little it will become clearer.

But, overall this was a very entertaining read. Sorry about my craptastic review, I really just stopped by just to tell you how much I enjoyed this. Good job!

Uh, Pork?

Wow. That was... odd. But I really liked it! I'm not sure I really have anything else to say actually.

It was the best. Enough said.

-kittykat


Peace out!

Sweet, I got some of the best reviewers. You guys are awesome.

Clo wrote:Was he unsuccessful the second time?

I'm not sure what you mean by this. Second time...?

And I don't quite see the point of the "Imagine that", as we really don't know enough of his personal character to see him as shy or otherwise.

That was meant to be sort of ironic... he could attempt something as drastic as suicide but he was too bashful to ask a simple question.

I agree with everyone that the ending is weak; 'twas rather hastily written. Jigs, I've changed it to your version, which I feel is better. It's still not great, so I might mess around with it more later.

Jack wrote:As a piece of black comedy, I think this hits the mark in all the right ways. There's a potential for improving the ending, but I think you have a good, short piece right here. Let me know if you write anything similar.

Thanks! I'll definitely let you know.

*

Thanks again, everyone; your comments are duly noted and appreciated. ^_^ And have a happy new year, by the way.

Prokaryote

Whah! Is this even...Pork? W-O-W

*moment of silence*

EPIC WIN.

I really enjoyed this. It was dark and sick and funny, the type of story I needed at this time of night. This was really original like everyone else said and you ended it perfectly. Some people mess up the moment and get all purple prose-y but you kept this nice and easy.

There were a lot of good quotes in here:

"Well, there's this dog -- my dog, I mean. And he's, uh, he's cracked open my skull and right now he's eating my brains."

I couldn't stop laughing.

And by the way, I was hooked from beginning to end. Which is also good. Usually when people write pieces like this they throw all the literary rules out the door and I'm glad you didn't.

This gets a star for being Epic and fan-freakin-tastic.

I'll be lookin' to read more of your stuff,

~Angel

I suicided once.

Do you mean I attempted suicide once?

But, you know, I managed, like we all do, and things began to come together, and I got a new job, and it was all just a tornado of sunrise.

I don't like this sentence one bit. It seemed like a stammer, which I can understand but usually use dashes to indicate stammering. Also, you started a sentence with 'but'.

Without killing themselves. As they're prone to do.

I'd say take out that period and replace it with a coma, lower case the a in as.

We were all leaning in, shoulder to shoulder, our weight on the next guy -- but when one fellow trips the lot goes down the hole. Take it from me, as one of the few who's escaped: You don't want to fall down that hole.

Just yesterday, I was explaining to my friend who is suicidal how I'm always the brick wall everyone leans on. I'm always there for everybody. Who do I have to lean on? No one. So when I fall, everyone falls. I then push myself aside and help them up while I'm still on the ground. I know this exactly. I'm so grateful someone knows the feeling it almost puts a tear to my eye. Amazing.

So she calls me instead of 911 because 911 is a complicated number.

I couldn't help but laugh.


Wow. That was um. Well, I'm speechless.
I can't even describe what I'm looking at right now - hah. How do I feel? I just can't place it. Good work!