I Wanted to Scratch it and Chew My Acid Into it Like a Gila Monster

I don’t know if it’s my subconscious’ way of dealing or not.  I found out one week ago that the job I’ve been working at for 7+ years is being put down in four months.  I have yet to feel any real emotion about it.  I’m completely ambivalent, maybe even a bit cheery about it.

So I took Rowdy out for a walk after work.

I had a mixture of emotions when I saw it: rage and complete terror.  I have no idea why.  It was the most average mediocre tree ever.  

It didn’t hover or act menacing.  It was just kind of there, being a flimsy 35, 40-foot tree that would possibly impress Charlie Brown.

Maybe.

In a timeless moment, I saw this tree split down the middle, forming two arm-like appendages and push itself out of the ground, no head to crown from the filthy whore womb of Mother Earth.  Just shoulders starting where the head would be—where the head should have been.  And as it sprouted from the ground, it screamed and made my tears squeeze out with panic.  And my tears burned my face.  And the burning made me angry.  And with that anger, I clenched my teeth until the weakened capillaries of my gums, still thinned from a decade of smoking burst and flooded my mouth with warm, iron blood.

And there were no roots.  Ever–there had probably never been roots.  Just two knobby, sinewy legs that had been immersed in the dirt for however many years it took that beast to form unnoticed.  And it walked toward me, each step a quick, snapping movement.

And the terror in me became so unbearable that I had no choice but to lunge at this tree.  It screamed as I tore into it.  My fingertips splitting, I used the bones in the tips of my digits to tear into the bark and exposed what looked like bovine flesh.  And I tore into it and pulled out the meat and I ate it.  And as it squealed in anger, I scramble even higher to the top of the trunk where the shoulders hung from.  With the rage of a million murderers, just awakened from a restful sleep I roared, and I bit into the nook where the shoulders split or met.  And I chewed and chewed.  And my mouth made acid.  I chewed the corrosive juices into the menace like a Gila monster.  And it dissolved the bark, and the leaves, and the stubborn branches that scratched at my face in a last ditch effort to save it.

When I was done, the tree was a pile of mulch inside of a cage.

Then time started again.

So I kept walking the dog.

- David C. Garcia