In Search of Joshua King

HIM walked back into the kitchen with the empty bowls of ice cream that had only small traces of the ice cream left in them that dripped out slowly as he hovered them above the kitchen sink and then rinsed them clean and placed them inside the sink and out my eye sight.

“Finish this and you can have that.”

HIM tapped the empty bowl toward my plate with his finger giving off an empty sound that I wanted filled with glorious ice cream, but now it was only filled with the humming white light from above.

My fork didn’t want to play with the mashed potatoes or peas anymore, instead it just wanted to sit at the side of an empty plate with my hand on a spoon carving out a great hunk of ice cream and giving something my stomach would finally agree with that went into it on that night. My ass was also sick of sitting in the rickety wooden chair and it was feeling hot and sweaty, and moving from one cheek to the other had given it little comfort. There was only one way out of it and it lied in the plastic yellow trashcan that sat behind me and kept its mouth open wide and willing to take on the food mistake. Slipping out of the chair brought a rush of relief that came as a cool breath of air and soothed the burning my ass had felt the entire time. I gripped the plate on both sides and lifted it straight up making sure not to scrape it across the kitchen table and make a sound. Next was to get to the trashcan with no one hearing me. Thankfully it was only three steps away from me, but I took those steps very lightly in my white athletic sock covered feet and I even got up on my tip-toes, but not to high, and made sure my tiny toes never made a sound. I brought the plate inside the trash can making sure the ice-bergs of mashed potatoes and the rotten pea necklace didn’t have far to go and make an alarming sound, and instead I cupped them in my hand and placed them gently among the tissues, which had green dried buggers with a streak of red in the middle, an empty milk carton, which I made sure to miss because of its echoing properties, and torn up papers that had numbers and dollar signs on them which made the best place to nestle my horrid dinner on. I took the plate out of the trash and placed it back onto the table and saw that my hand was marked with mashed potatoes, but cleaning it off with a kitchen towel would let anyone know that something was wrong, so I lifted my sweater and my undershirt up and wiped my hand clean on my bare chest. I placed the shirt and sweater back down into place and felt for the first time the mashed potatoes on my stomach, but instead of being in it they were on it and they felt cold and clumpy and I rubbed it into my stomach trying to smooth it out and make it more acceptable, but it only spread the grossness making a shiver up my spine and an unexpected stench to my nose that came from the food on my stomach.

“Well, finished everything. You can have some ice cream now.”

HIM took the empty bowl over to the refrigerator and started filling it with the ice cream I craved for. I started to rub my stomach in anticipation, but soon felt the now warm-body-temp-mashed-potatoes that began to smear themselves even more over my stomach and even found their way into my belly button.

“Here you go. See what you get when you listen.”

HIM placed the bowl filled with two and a half scoops of ice cream and took my plate away allowing me to get both of my hands around the bowl and bring it close to me, lowering my face to the bowl and smelling the ice cream and feeling the burning inside of my nose, as the hint of cookie dough bounced off the front of my brain.

HIM took my plate and started walking toward the kitchen sink to place it in with the empty bowls, but stopped and started toward the trash can to plop a last survivor of mashed potato into the trash can. I dug my spoon into the side of one of the scoops to take my first taste, making sure to get some ice cream, chocolate chips, and cookie dough all in the same scoop. My spoon was coasting through my lips and I could feel the cool of the spoon and the ice cream radiating off my lips and making my tongue and mouth begin to water and ready to welcome the sweetness into my mouth before the spoon and ice cream with it were ripped away from me by HIM.

“What the hell is this? Did you do this!”

The yellow trashcan was now by my leg with the discarded dinner looking up at me.

“You threw it away? Did you? Answer me!”

HIM’S hand clamped down on the back of my neck and brought my face into the trash can where my plate had just been and the smell of the peas hit my nose replacing the ice cream that had almost touched my taste buds and let me enjoy a morsel of pleasure until it was all taken away from me, and the mashed potatoes under my shirt began to slide against my body letting me feel that they had warmed themselves beyond my body temperature. I gave HIM no answer and he released his grip from around the back of my neck.

“Nothing huh. Then you get nothing.”

HIM snatched the bowl full of ice cream and threw it into the yellow trashcan next to me. HIM walked away from me and leaving the kitchen he switched the light off leaving me in the dark sitting next to my melting ice cream in a yellow trashcan.