{"id":277,"date":"2026-04-21T23:15:26","date_gmt":"2026-04-21T23:15:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/?page_id=277"},"modified":"2026-04-21T23:22:32","modified_gmt":"2026-04-21T23:22:32","slug":"contrapasso","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/fiction\/contrapasso\/","title":{"rendered":"Contrapasso"},"content":{"rendered":"

John K. Plaski<\/span><\/p>\n

(Content Warning: Graphic Violence)\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Hands That Help is hosting their President\u2019s Day Banquet at Carver\u2019s Ballroom this year, and the staff arrives\u00a0at four in the afternoon to prepare. The\u00a0menu\u00a0is designed to be familiar and easily digestible. Mountains of greased-up green beans and buttery mashed potatoes\u00a0stand beside\u00a0acres of iceberg lettuce passing as salad and hundreds of wedges of white bread that\u00a0is\u00a0mostly flavorless crust. The meatloaves sizzling in their pans resemble boulders submerged in lakes of motor oil while dessert is\u00a0serried\u00a0rows of\u00a0red, white, and blue parfaits\u00a0standing at attention. Dozens of trays loaded with appetizers circle the ballroom floor while social lubrication is provided by reservoirs\u00a0of old fashioneds and\u00a0cheap\u00a0domestic\u00a0beer.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Meanwhile,\u00a0the servers stand\u00a0against the wall closest to the kitchen\u00a0and scan the tables for empty plates and\u00a0hands raised for another drink. Announcements tumble from the stage in bursts of microphone feedback that no one seems capable of fixing. The totals raised for American Heart Month and World Cancer Day\u00a0shake\u00a0dust from\u00a0the rafters\u00a0while the names of the donors for the new spring planting fund\u00a0rattle every glass and piece of silverware\u00a0in the room.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

During all of this,\u00a0I imagine Jaxson\u00a0and Teddi\u00a0taking the stage and delivering their own speeches. Jaxson educates the crowd on every patch of untraversable sidewalk they\u2019ve encountered within the past year while Teddi reads off\u00a0all the\u00a0proposed\u00a0spring plantings and replaces the invasive species with native flowers\u00a0and harvestable vegetation.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

They\u2019re two of the more entertaining speakers to make an appearance at Carver\u2019s Ballroom\u00a0whereas\u00a0their audience, these\u00a0men gulping down gallons of meatloaf\u00a0and Hamm\u2019s,\u00a0are the sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons of the types immortalized in\u00a0gilded frames\u00a0hanging\u00a0on the ballroom walls. The\u00a0ones that wiped forests from the maps\u00a0of Western Michigan, scammed\u00a0the Potawatomi, Chippewa, and Ottawa tribes\u00a0out of millions of acres of land, and designed weapons and public policies that flattened cities\u00a0across\u00a0the globe.\u00a0And now their pale and\u00a0frustratingly\u00a0sloppy offspring are applauding themselves and happily chattering about vinyl siding\u00a0on their two-car garages\u00a0and last month\u2019s inauguration. Meanwhile,\u00a0decked out in my starched white shirt and pressed polyester slacks,\u00a0I shift my weight from one foot to the other, trying to dodge the icepicks\u00a0hopping\u00a0up and down my legs: servers aren\u2019t allowed to sit\u00a0during an event, and my\u00a0custom\u00a0insoles are helping very little\u00a0right now.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The\u00a0banquet\u00a0goes all the way till midnight, and it\u2019s only at ten past one that Carver\u2019s Ballroom is cleared\u00a0and closed. Every staff member is handed an aluminum-foil\u00a0pan filled with leftovers on their way out as well;\u00a0I\u2019m given sixty toothpicks loaded with salami and green olives before being thrown into the freezing darkness.\u00a0We\u00a0trickle out one at a time, most of us too tired to talk and too scared of initiating an exchange: five pounds of mashed potatoes for a cubic yard of white bread, or\u00a0how about\u00a0three quarts of beef gravy minus the meatloaf for three slabs of extruded beef without the sauce?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Outside is quiet, well past everybody\u2019s bedtime. It\u2019s technically Monday morning already, a special edition of the witching hour as all the Founding Fathers\u00a0scrutinize\u00a0me\u00a0from the other side of\u00a0a sky covered with clouds,\u00a0their staring\u00a0as warm as winter starlight\u00a0as I cross Eldred Avenue and begin my trek through Halligan Park. Home is\u00a0thirty minutes away, and I march parallel to the river as I pass by trees stripped to their branches and the occasional indent in the snow from when some kids made a mess while the sun was out.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I wince\u00a0with every step\u00a0and\u00a0catalogue\u00a0all the things I hate about my uniform\u00a0to pass the time.\u00a0Besides\u00a0the\u00a0shoes\u00a0that make my job twice as hard,\u00a0my\u00a0shirtsleeves and collar must be buttoned all the up\u00a0to cover my\u00a0tattoos. I\u2019m also not a huge fan of pants on most days,\u00a0and\u00a0these black slacks are as breathable as binding my legs in rolls of plastic wrap.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u2019m\u00a0also\u00a0thinking\u00a0about\u00a0coming home, throwing on something shapeless, and ranting to Jaxson and Teddi about my shift, but I highly doubt that either of them will still be awake when I arrive. Tonight is Teddi\u2019s night with Jaxson,\u00a0and\u00a0both will have turned in early since\u00a0Teddi always leaves for work\u00a0before sunrise.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019ll just be me and Jaxson for the rest of the day, and\u00a0I go over\u00a0our\u00a0possible itineraries:\u00a0they finished binging the medieval epics, so maybe we\u2019ll\u00a0walk\u00a0to the library,\u00a0return their stack of books, and come home with another? Or maybe we\u2019ll\u00a0build a snowman in the\u00a0alleyway\u00a0before heating up some hot chocolate on the stove? Or, between the cold making Jaxson\u2019s aches ten times worse and the prickling sinking deeper into my thighs with every step forward, maybe it\u2019ll be a\u00a0quiet\u00a0day for us both? The whiffs of\u00a0salami\u00a0and olives rising from the container in my hands reminds me that at least we\u2019ll have snacks: Jaxson will eat the\u00a0meat\u00a0while I take the\u00a0veggies, and all sixty toothpicks will be cleaned and tucked away in a cabinet for uses\u00a0that will never arrive.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou going to share those?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

My head jerks\u00a0upward at\u00a0the sound of this voice, and it\u2019s three men ambling down the sidewalk towards me. I don\u2019t know which\u00a0of them\u00a0spoke, but I instantly drop my chin and squeeze into the rightmost sliver of the lane, giving each of them a cautious glance as we pass. The tallest one grins down at me from behind a\u00a0thick,\u00a0rust-colored\u00a0beard\u00a0while his buddy watches me closely without smiling;\u00a0his face\u00a0is\u00a0a clean-shaven mask topped with an inoffensive crew cut. Both wear drab waterproof jackets as they\u00a0march in lockstep: Hairy walks with his feet flying\u00a0ahead of him\u00a0while Wary wobbles slightly as he\u00a0struggles\u00a0to\u00a0keep\u00a0one leg beneath him at all times.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAren\u2019t you\u00a0going to invite us over?\u201d Wary shouts as we pass each other.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He and Hairy blow factory-sized plumes of vapor into the air as they stroll past, and I smell a familiar cloud of whiskey and bourbon swirling around them and a\u00a0third figure\u00a0taking\u00a0up the rear. He\u2019s the shortest of this gang of three and wears the same crewcut as Wary\u00a0with a\u00a0thick duffle jacket\u00a0zipped\u00a0all the way up to chin. Its\u00a0drab shade of green reminds me of lizard skin\u00a0while his\u00a0expression is like a frog submerged in\u00a0scum: we lock eyes for\u00a0the briefest\u00a0moment, and\u00a0Starey\u2019s\u00a0gaze\u00a0pricks\u00a0me\u00a0all over\u00a0as he quickly looks me up and down,\u00a0as if\u00a0he\u2019s\u00a0unable to\u00a0decide\u00a0if I\u2019m a fly or a heron.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOr\u00a0do\u00a0you\u00a0got too much\u00a0meat\u00a0to snack on tonight?\u201d Wary barks.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Hairy chuckles at this third comment, and I\u2019m suddenly boiling hot as I\u00a0continue\u00a0to\u00a0stare\u00a0down at my feet\u00a0pushing\u00a0me\u00a0eastward. I can picture Jaxson applauding my restraint, saying that it\u2019s not worth it to engage with\u00a0a couple of drunks, whereas Teddi hisses in my ear, saying that it\u2019s unfair that they handed me this hate to carry\u00a0without any consequences on their end.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u00a0am<\/i>\u00a0too busy, actually.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I stop as I say this and hear the scraping of boots behind me as Hairy, Wary, and Starey suddenly halt and turn around, not used to hearing a voice\u00a0like mine\u00a0speaking after their own.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019d you say?\u201d Wary shouts.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Trying to flex away the aches wrapping\u00a0around my\u00a0thighs,\u00a0I turn to face them,\u00a0feeling\u00a0like an effigy of plenty as I pose with a loaded aluminum tray in my left hand and my cell phone in my right. It\u2019s only on its lock screen, but my thumb hovers over the home button as Jaxson and Teddi smile up at me from\u00a0our latest\u00a0road\u00a0trip to Sault Ste. Marie. Meanwhile,\u00a0Hairy, Starey, and Wary\u00a0stand about\u00a0fifteen\u00a0feet away, their unsmiling faces arranged from shortest to tallest. Only the clouds pouring from their heads betray their status as living\u00a0beings.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve only got room for one more tonight,\u201d I say loudly, starting out strong with my server voice before remembering to\u00a0add\u00a0my own, real\u00a0smile\u00a0as well. \u201cAnd I\u2019d\u00a0hate<\/i>\u00a0to break up this threesome you guys have already started. But\u00a0y\u2019all\u00a0have fun!\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Besides a chuckle\u00a0uncoiling\u00a0from\u00a0in between\u00a0Hairy\u2019s\u00a0lips, all three faces refuse to change. I\u00a0wait, then\u00a0nod once and walk away; Hairy\u2019s laughter grows fainter as I\u00a0siphon\u00a0all my energy into not peeking over my shoulder or letting these three jerks\u00a0see my knees wobble.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou fucking bitch!<\/i>\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The bottom of a boot slams against the small of my back and throws me forward. My\u00a0torso\u00a0flies\u00a0miles ahead of my center of gravity as I stumble and fall onto the pavement, my cell phone and tray of appetizers both clattering against the ground behind me.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I throw one forearm in front of my face as I hit the concrete, saving my wrists and cheeks from the impact before rolling onto my side.\u00a0I scramble onto my hands and knees, but that same boot, now with a steel toe, catches me halfway between my bottommost rib and the top of my pelvis. The wind flies out of me, and I\u2019m flat on the pavement a\u00a0second time.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I lift my gaze towards the sky, and it\u2019s Wary towering over me, screaming, throwing a finger down at my face as he delivers a second kick\u00a0that crushes\u00a0my body\u00a0into an even tighter ball. My\u00a0eyes\u00a0scramble\u00a0across the\u00a0dark\u00a0horizon for anyone to see and help me, but\u00a0there\u2019s\u00a0only\u00a0Hairy\u00a0holding\u00a0my cell phone high above his head and spiking\u00a0it against the pavement\u00a0with a savage grin.\u00a0Starey stands farther back, watching\u00a0all three of us\u00a0with the appetizer\u00a0tray\u00a0cradled in his hands.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

There\u00a0are\u00a0four\u00a0more kicks\u00a0to my chest and stomach\u00a0and\u00a0twice as many\u00a0insults before Wary stops and screams at\u00a0his accomplices. Hairy\u00a0snaps to attention\u00a0and races towards the two of us; now that my cell phone lies in pieces on the sidewalk, he\u2019s been helping himself to the stacks\u00a0of salami and olive inside the\u00a0dented\u00a0aluminum\u00a0tray. I try\u00a0using\u00a0this precious second of freedom to do or think of\u00a0something,\u00a0<\/i>but my mind and body are both as\u00a0helpful\u00a0as a\u00a0pile\u00a0of jellyfish stranded at low tide. Even my thoughts are spilling over their usual banks and oozing together. They\u2019re\u00a0all\u00a0about Jaxson and Teddi and whether I\u2019ll ever see them again.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

At that exact moment,\u00a0a pair of hands grabs me and hoists me to my feet: one grips my bicep\u00a0and twists it behind me\u00a0while the other presses down on my mouth. Wary swims closer as he\u00a0examines me from head to toe, and a single realization pierces red-hot through the haze\u00a0of pain and panic: they\u2019re either going to start working on my face or my\u00a0legs, and neither of those\u00a0outcomes\u00a0can happen.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Wary\u2019s voice drops to a mumble as he instructs Hairy on what to do next. I try\u00a0wrenching\u00a0my body\u00a0away from Hairy\u2019s\u00a0as hard as I can, but the hand wrapped around my arm isn\u2019t going anywhere. The hand clapped over my mouth is\u00a0slightly\u00a0looser though, so I lessen my struggling and let my head\u00a0slump forward, acting as if I\u2019m\u00a0suddenly\u00a0losing consciousness. Hairy\u2019s index finger slips under my upper lip, and that\u2019s when I open my mouth and bite down as hard as I can.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The bone slips out of the way of my teeth as they bore straight through the skin and meat of Hairy\u2019s\u00a0right\u00a0hand. He lets out a\u00a0high-pitched\u00a0screech as his grip tightens all around me, trying to\u00a0pull his hand away from my mouth, but I succeed in making my upper and lower incisors meet as blood gushes behind my lips.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Something long and fleshy peels loose and presses against my tongue, and\u00a0Hairy\u00a0throws me away from him.\u00a0I fall back onto the pavement\u00a0and\u00a0spit as soon as I lift my head off the ground,\u00a0recoiling\u00a0at the sight of a sliver of flesh\u00a0lying\u00a0inside a bubbling puddle of blood and saliva. Meanwhile, Hairy stumbles backwards,\u00a0bent\u00a0over like a question mark as he cradles his right hand with his left. Starey cautiously steps towards him as he screams, and this turns out to\u00a0be another\u00a0precious\u00a0second wasted\u00a0as Wary swoops in from the right and surprises me with another kick to my sternum.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFucking\u00a0bitch,<\/i>\u201d he grunts.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I\u00a0take the hit and\u00a0curl up even tighter\u00a0than before\u00a0with my fingers knitted around the back of my head. A\u00a0wad of spit hits my left temple and dribbles down my cheek.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf I see you get up, I\u2019ll smash your\u00a0fucking<\/i>\u00a0face in!\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I find myself nodding along as my knees touch my stomach and both\u00a0forearms press against my ears. Hairy\u2019s screams fade into the distance\u00a0as\u00a0I\u00a0feel\u00a0my heart thumping behind my eardrums and\u00a0melt into\u00a0the slow throbbing\u00a0that is my torso.\u00a0The metallic taste caking the inside of my mouth\u00a0could be\u00a0my own adrenaline or the remnants of Hairy\u2019s hand, and my\u00a0gasping breaths\u00a0refuse to slow down as I\u00a0wonder if any of these ten thousand aches\u00a0slathered across my body\u00a0means an irreparably-broken\u00a0bone\u00a0or\u00a0fatally-ruptured organ.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Over seventy breaths push their way out of me before\u00a0I pull my arms away from my head and look up.\u00a0The world is empty, reduced to strips of white earth and black sky. No sounds\u00a0reach me out here in the cold besides the trickling of the river, and climbing to my feet is slowly\u00a0and shakily\u00a0done with my eyes whipping in every direction. I\u2019m able to stand and shuffle towards a nearby bench despite everything swimming around me. And once I lower myself onto its cold metal slats, I count\u00a0seventy\u00a0breaths again\u00a0before\u00a0surveying\u00a0the damage before me.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

First is my body. I wriggle my toes inside my shoes, making sure I can feel all ten of them,\u00a0before curling and uncurling each of my fingers and running my tongue across my teeth: everything is where it should be. My stomach throbs even harder when I sit, and Wary\u2019s boot slamming against the small of my back refuses to fade, like a\u00a0footprint\u00a0trapped\u00a0in fossilized mud.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

This\u00a0pain tells me that I\u2019m still alive, and\u00a0I wipe the tears from my\u00a0cheeks\u00a0as I sort\u00a0through everything that\u00a0still\u00a0needs doing.\u00a0My\u00a0cell\u00a0phone rests in pieces ahead of me beside a\u00a0single\u00a0strip of flesh soaking in its own blood.\u00a0First is getting a new phone: I\u2019ll have to see if my warranty is still valid and figure out a time that Teddi can drive me to the store. I\u2019m also going to need to schedule a blood test to see if I\u2019ve been exposed to anything: I\u2019m certain that the blood in my mouth isn\u2019t mine,\u00a0and\u00a0who knows what\u00a0Hairy\u00a0has\u00a0gotten into lately? Jaxson will give me the name of a clinic, but they won\u2019t be able to accompany me if it\u2019s too far of a walk.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I check my back pocket and make sure my wallet is still there. Nobody reached for it\u00a0during the attack, so there\u2019s no need to cancel my cards. Hairy and Starey wouldn\u2019t have gotten past my lock screen, so\u00a0the\u00a0names, numbers, and\u00a0addresses of family, friends, and partners are secure.\u00a0Jaxson and Teddi are safe at home right now, but they\u2019re not waiting up for me\u00a0since\u00a0it\u2019s\u00a0Teddi\u2019s bed tonight. It\u2019s\u00a0also\u00a0late, and\u00a0there won\u2019t be\u00a0any words of consolation or anger\u00a0until they wake up in the morning. They won\u2019t mind me being even later than I already am, so I\u00a0follow\u00a0this trail of\u00a0blood as it wobbles westward\u00a0from its starting pool.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Somewhere in that\u00a0darkness,\u00a0Wary\u00a0is\u00a0busy\u00a0shouting his successes to the wind\u00a0while\u00a0Starey\u00a0walks beside him\u00a0with\u00a0my tray of appetizers.\u00a0Hairy takes up the rear, swearing every couple steps as he presses the cuff of his coat against his hand to staunch the bleeding. Wary\u00a0looks back\u00a0at him\u00a0and laughs, saying that Hairy will need an AIDS test in the morning, but the latter doesn\u2019t chuckle as he\u00a0winces at\u00a0a harsh thumping creeping up his arm.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The three of them share an apartment southwest of the river. And as soon as they walk inside, Wary pours himself a final glass of whiskey and parks himself on the couch\u00a0while\u00a0Starey takes a seat at the kitchen table, the doorway to his back\u00a0as he places the aluminum tray filled\u00a0with meat, olives, and\u00a0toothpicks\u00a0in front of himself.\u00a0Mowing\u00a0them down one by one, the only other noise in the room is the refrigerator standing and humming beside the doorway leading out.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Meanwhile, Hairy\u00a0locks\u00a0himself in the bathroom, pulling out bandages from under the sink. His\u00a0coat\u00a0hangs from the hook on the back of the door as he grimaces at the diamond-shaped vacancy running along the side of his right index finger.\u00a0Strangely enough, it\u00a0appears to dive inside of him and reemerge past his wrist, traveling up all the way\u00a0to\u00a0his elbow\u00a0as\u00a0a long scarlet line\u00a0beneath the skin, like a bad vein shooting poisoned blood back towards his heart.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Was Wary right? How fast\u00a0does\u00a0infection set in?\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Hairy grunts as he unpeels the backs of several bandages and\u00a0arranges them\u00a0along the edge of the sink.\u00a0Darker droplets splatter\u00a0against the porcelain bowl\u00a0as he works, dying its entire surface pink; it hurts to move any part of his hand, but it should be alright by morning.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFucking bitch\u2026\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Hairy mutters this for all the world to hear, and his right hand pops open with all five fingers fully extended. He stops gathering tissues to staunch the bleeding and stares at his appendage instead. He pulls his fingers in, but they spring back out right away; his mind immediately leaps to\u00a0lockjaw, but Hairy\u2019s racing thoughts are interrupted by four of his fingers slowly curling inward, leaving only his index extended. Then, with the stiffness of a marionette operated by a first-time puppeteer, Hairy\u2019s right hand slowly climbs into the air,\u00a0only stopping\u00a0once\u00a0a single finger\u00a0presses\u00a0itself\u00a0against his lips.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The bathroom door creaks open a few seconds later, and Wary catches a glimpse of Hairy moving towards the kitchen with his right hand stretched ahead of him. He looks like an extra in a zombie movie, Wary thinks with a chuckle as he returns to his glass of whiskey.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And in the kitchen, Starey is working on his nineth appetizer, carefully sliding the salami and olive off their toothpick skewer while fifty more stand at attention in front of him, their points shooting straight towards the ceiling. He hears footsteps behind him and assumes it\u2019s Wary grabbing another drink from the refrigerator.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But then, a massive hand grips the back of\u00a0Starey\u2019s\u00a0head\u00a0and\u00a0lifts\u00a0him\u00a0up\u00a0and\u00a0out of his\u00a0seat. He\u00a0tries reaching for\u00a0the\u00a0edge\u00a0of the kitchen table as it and the tray of appetizers shrink in size by at least two feet, but,\u00a0right as his toes part ways with the tile floor, everything rushes back towards\u00a0Starey\u2019s\u00a0face: fifty miniature wooden stakes and the solid oak panel\u00a0beneath them.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Wary hears some scuffling through the wall separating the living room from the kitchen before a\u00a0deafening slam echoes\u00a0across the apartment. He chokes on his\u00a0drink\u00a0and jumps to his feet. From inside the kitchen, Starey screams for only a second before another thunderous bang cuts him off. Two more\u00a0blows\u00a0follow on its heels, each one reverberating throughout the rooms like a giant knocking on the door of a medieval stronghold. Then, a fifth bang\u00a0ends with\u00a0the creaking and clattering of wood as a series of weights crashes to the floor.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

In the perfect silence that follows, Wary wants to shout, to call out for\u00a0someone\u00a0<\/i>or something, but he doesn\u2019t know who or what to ask for: he even finds himself inexplicably terrified of breaking this new\u00a0stillness\u00a0that has flooded his space. So, instead of speaking, he steps away from the couch and shuffles towards the kitchen\u00a0with\u00a0a\u00a0highball glass\u00a0still\u00a0clutched in one sweaty\u00a0hand. He turns the corner slowly, seeing Starey\u2019s\u00a0feet framed in the doorway\u00a0before\u00a0the rest\u00a0is revealed.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The kitchen table is in several pieces: the central column still stands erect, but the tabletop has been knocked off its base and now lies\u00a0flat\u00a0on the floor. A head-sized chunk has been taken out of its bottommost quarter with the edges of this\u00a0hole ringed with massive white\u00a0splinters. Starey lies face-up beside it and an overturned chair\u00a0with\u00a0a pool of blood encircling his head. Fifty toothpicks jut from every inch of his face: a\u00a0slimy sea of cold cuts and green olives lies on top of these bristles, creating a multi-eyed death mask with only\u00a0Starey\u2019s\u00a0mouth exposed\u00a0as it\u00a0gapes open\u00a0and fills\u00a0with blood pouring\u00a0in from\u00a0each and every\u00a0wound.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the\u00a0fuck<\/i>\u2026\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Kicking\u00a0aside a crumpled foil container,\u00a0Wary\u00a0steps through the kitchen doorway\u00a0and\u00a0looks up right as the freezer door swings into his face. His nose shatters first before the rest of him crumples to the floor; and with eyes clamped tight, Wary moans as hot liquid gushes from in between his fingers:\u00a0he tries groaning but is interrupted by\u00a0five fingers\u00a0wrapping around his ankle and dragging him deeper inside the kitchen.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s only a short\u00a0trip\u00a0before\u00a0Wary lies\u00a0in the center of the floor, his legs bunched up against\u00a0Starey\u2019s\u00a0unmoving body and the overturned chair. An undimming lightning bolt arcs across Wary\u2019s face, and he can faintly hear the refrigerator door opening through his throbbing eyelids and the spluttering of blood as it dribbles\u00a0through his\u00a0lips and teeth.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Then,\u00a0a body falls onto his hips, its legs straddling his own. Wary cracks one eye open\u00a0with difficulty, and it\u2019s Hairy looming above him:\u00a0shoulders hunched, chin tucked against his chest, and his left arm pressed against his side while his right stretches out past his range of vision. The bits of face that poke through his\u00a0beard\u00a0are white as bone and beaded with sweat while his eyes are rimmed with tears and soaked through with silent horror.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPlease\u2026\u201d Wary chokes. \u201cHairy<\/i>\u2026\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Hairy\u2019s right arm slowly retracts, and the hand at the end\u00a0is gripping\u00a0Wary\u2019s bottle of Seagram\u2019s 7. Still cold from the refrigerator, its\u00a0sculpted glass\u00a0magnifies\u00a0the long strip of missing flesh running along Hairy\u2019s index finger\u00a0as\u00a0a\u00a0dark\u00a0dash\u00a0of red\u00a0slithers\u00a0all the way up his arm,\u00a0under the sleeve of his\u00a0t-shirt, and\u00a0out through\u00a0his neck. And with his head cocked to the side with his mouth clamped shut, Hairy looks like a puppet operated by\u00a0a single,\u00a0scarlet\u00a0string.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He moves like one too as his right hand slowly hovers the bottle of Seagram\u2019s over Wary\u2019s face, holding it there for several seconds before plunging its bottom\u00a0towards\u00a0the floor. In total, it takes forty-seven\u00a0attempts before the bottle shatters against the tiles\u00a0beneath Wary\u2019s head. On the way there, the first blow splits\u00a0his\u00a0nose bone even\u00a0wider\u00a0and ignites a\u00a0peal\u00a0of screams that shreds his vocal cords. Number five intensifies his spitting\u00a0and choking:\u00a0futile attempts to clear his airways as blood pours out of the\u00a0fleshy\u00a0dent\u00a0where\u00a0his upper row of teeth\u00a0used to be.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Wary stops making human\u00a0noises\u00a0at stroke number twelve. The deepening cuts along his cheeks and brow push the flesh further from the center of his face, and the only accompaniment he provides between\u00a0downstroke\u00a0number thirteen and the cracking of glass against tile at forty-seven is the squishing of meat and the infinitesimal grinding of bone against something just as hard\u00a0and brittle\u00a0but wielded with much greater force.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And once the cracking of glass tinkles\u00a0against\u00a0the walls, the strokes go to an even fifty before the remains of the Seagram\u2019s bottle are left inside\u00a0their\u00a0new cradle fashioned from hammered flesh and\u00a0pulverized\u00a0bone. Hairy\u2019s hand hovers above the mess it made, as if inspecting its work, before slowly rising towards Hairy\u2019s face. His skin is grey and lacquered with sweat and\u00a0daubs\u00a0of blood, and he tucks his chin against his chest as tightly\u00a0as he can, as if trying to escape this thing that will never\u00a0be more than three feet away from him at all times.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The bloodied fingers find his mouth\u00a0right away\u00a0and slowly\u00a0separate\u00a0his lips: the three longest digits start, then the pinky,\u00a0before\u00a0all four\u00a0pass\u00a0between\u00a0his two rows of teeth. Hairy feels his\u00a0fingernails scraping against the roof of his mouth while his tongue presses flat against its base to make room for his thumb.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

He immediately starts to choke, that same uneasy feeling accompanying strep test cotton swabs and toothbrushes shoved in too far back, but now he\u2019s past the widest part of his hand and going even deeper as the rest of him follows in\u00a0this\u00a0descent: the base of the palm, the wrist, and now the long smooth highway of the forearm. Hairy\u00a0even\u00a0feels\u00a0the hairs coating the top of his arm as they scrape against his incisors.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It\u2019s all coming from the fingers: they don\u2019t have\u00a0much\u00a0room to work with, but they studiously inch themselves down inside him, sliding\u00a0deeper\u00a0bit by bit as they push through the slick, flexing muscles lining\u00a0Hairy\u2019s\u00a0interior. Soon enough, his entire forearm has disappeared inside of him, replaced by a single elbow pointing at the ceiling and two rivers of tears pouring out of a pair of eyes seeing the world pulsing with black veins along\u00a0its\u00a0edges.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And what\u00a0is\u00a0found\u00a0at the very bottom of Hairy? Either more of what was found after\u00a0thorough\u00a0examinations of both Starey and Wary, or something so unexpectedly incredible that it must be gripped with all five fingers and brought to light with a sharp yank and a fountain of blood, bile, and saliva splattering the\u00a0cabinets and countertops.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I try answering\u00a0this question\u00a0myself,\u00a0hoping to design\u00a0a climax fashioned from the purest poetic justice I can muster, but it\u2019s getting too cold to sit outside\u00a0any longer.\u00a0I rise from my seat with a wince and a sigh before\u00a0scooping\u00a0up\u00a0the pieces of my\u00a0cell phone and sliding\u00a0them\u00a0into my pocket. It\u2019ll be thirty more minutes of walking, and I\u00a0know no one\u00a0will be up once I get home.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

But this means plenty of time to think\u00a0of\u00a0what lies\u00a0below, inside the cores of Starey, Wary, and Hairy. Jaxson and Teddi will hear all about it in the morning, and they\u2019ll give me all their condolences and fury and shower me with hugs and kisses and laurel wreaths\u00a0hammered out of tin and fire\u00a0once they hear my\u00a0tale. Teddi will try to ask off work and pitch a fit once their request is denied, and Jaxson will insist on making the hot chocolate themselves and taking the\u00a0blow when their\u00a0stack of\u00a0library books becomes\u00a0one day overdue. They\u2019ll say that more money going to the public library system is better than\u00a0less, and\u00a0Boccaccio and Dante can wait: they\u2019ve both had their day!\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

We\u2019ll sit on the couch and listen to my\u00a0story\u00a0instead. All three of us know\u00a0how it goes\u00a0and every detail\u00a0along the way,\u00a0but\u00a0I\u2019ll need the rest of tonight to come up with an ending that truly satisfies.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

John K. Plaski (Content Warning: Graphic Violence)\u00a0 \u00a0 Hands That Help is hosting their President\u2019s Day Banquet at Carver\u2019s Ballroom this year, and the staff arrives\u00a0at four in the afternoon to prepare. The\u00a0menu\u00a0is designed to be familiar and easily digestible. Mountains of greased-up green beans and buttery mashed potatoes\u00a0stand beside\u00a0acres of iceberg lettuce passing as… <\/p>\n

Read more Contrapasso<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":81,"featured_media":0,"parent":17,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-277","page","type-page","status-publish","entry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/277","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/81"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=277"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/277\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":280,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/277\/revisions\/280"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/17"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/21-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=277"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}