Human Being

Part 2

Caution! ⛔️ This section contains violence and abusive language.

He woke to the violence of a swift kick to the stomach. Three, no four red blobs were kicking at him. Maybe?

“Yeah!” Was followed by a swift kick. “Let’s get him boys.”

Three of them started kicking him at the same time. “Pussy, why are you just standin’ there?” One blog was just standin’ there.

“This is wrong. He’s a person. A human being.” This plea was met with disgust.

They started jeering, taunting. “Pussy. Nancy. Chicken.” Their aggression was soon turned on him.

The soiled, well loved bunny was stomped from his clinched hand only to be crammed down the non aggressive blobs throat.

The familiar blob chased the upright blobs away. He perceived that the light from the running blobs trailed behind them for a split second in waves as they ran away into the surrounding darkness. There was a word for that but he couldn’t pull it out of his mind.

Two blobs were attending to the other blob on the ground.

He woke to a sharp pain in his hand. He drew it into his body. He stirred to see the woman very close to him. She held up bottles. “I’m sorry.” He looked at his hand. It was dirty. Nothing new there. Bleeding. This was new. It hurt. Was sore. With great effort, he tried to wiggle his fingers.

She was offering help. He recognized the shape of the bottles. But couldn’t remember what they were. It was okay. He extended his arm to her so she could treat his wounded hand.

It was only after squealing penetrated his brain, that he saw the familiar blob standing behind the woman. He understood her. But not the blob.

“Boys will be boys.”

“Don’t give me that load of horse crap. You know better Chuck. This was a hate crime.”

“Those are strong words Jaye.”

“What else would you call it?” She gently continued cleaning his hand. This was the first time in many snows that anyone had touched him out of kindness. Even with gloves on, it felt nice.

“They had just won their game. Jacked on adrenaline.”

“I guess beating your son to a pulp was ‘just boys being boys’?” She hissed.

Chuck sat beside her in the grass. “You know. We gotta move him.” He handed her a paper from his back pocket. She lowered his hand into the grass before taking the paper.

“So, old man Napier finally bought the property.” She paused, “30 days. Where is he going to go?”

A high pitched shriek bore through his skull. The pain caused him to hide his face. Though, he left his hand lying in the grass hoping she would continue.

He didn’t see the other blob. “Maybe you should take him home with you?!”

She looked at Chuck, then back at this other person. “What a spectacular idea.”

“What?” Chuck voiced in shock. “That’s a bad idea.”

“You got a better one?”

“Homeless shelter, park, anywhere but your house.”

“I have land. There’s no law saying I can’t let someone camp on my own property. You have a truck. You can take him and his belongings to my house.”

“Jaye.” Chuck pleaded.

She lifted his hand again. “Hi.” She spoke softly to him. “Do you understand me?”

His head hurt from all the squealing. How to say yes? Words had not flowed from his mouth in years. Could he even still speak? Did he want to speak? He needed to tell her that he understood her. All he could do was watch her.

Finally, she offered. “If you understand me, blink twice.” He did. “Fantastic. You can’t stay here.” She lowered his hand before offering him the letter Chuck had given her. Again, he understood a few simple words: you, fine, jail. “I have a big yard. Would you like to come and camp out in my yard?”

He thought about her words. Would he get beaten up again? Would dogs use the bathroom on him? Would blobs shriek at him? Once he watched a family of skunks walk in front of camp. He remained quiet and they kept on walking. All creatures were greater than him. Even the ants on the offerings. This was a trick. A trap. Had to be.

“When can you help us, Chuck?”

He took a deep breath, defeated he answered, “Saturday morning.”

“We will be back. You and everything you own is coming home with me.”

Home. God, home. Abstract concepts? What was home? Where was home? He had no memory of where he had been before this. Where did the word God come from? He thought he understood home. This pile of rags had been his home (he guessed) for so many snows. He lost count. He knew snow, cold, rain. But what of God and home. He could read the word God. Recognized it from the Bible tracks. But what of God? He prayed thanks when the familiar blob brought him coffee. Was that right?

He watched her talk to the familiar blob. She went one way. It the other.

A slight tremor woke him. The woman hopped out of the back of a truck. She was all smiles. Two blobs walked from either side of the vehicle. One was the familiar blob. The other was the blob that had gotten beaten up the other night. They put on gloves as she explained everything they were doing.

With his belongings pack, he rode in the back of the truck with her to a new place.

“This is my home.” She showed him a tree that flood waters from a small creek hadn’t touched. About 6 feet from the tree was a bush with pretty pink flowers. He slowly touched one. It didn’t wilt. Why would he think that the act of touching this flower would kill it? The flower just kept smiling at the sun. This is where he chose to pile his rags. She gave him 2 new tarps. Showed him where to put his trash. Pointed out where the neighbors were.

“I have a dog that I bring out on a leash. He will bark at you. Might even scare you. But I won’t let him hurt you.”

Again he was alone. He fixed his nest, using the 2 new tarps. A moment of panic raced through him. He thought he had lost his prize possession, that small stuffed rabbit.

Human Being