* * *
Later that day, Garry waited in a café with a bundle of yellow daffodils. He looked at their inner contours and wrote in his notebook:
“Serene. Reproduction in sweeter scents. A contrast to the butchery of human touch; dark, temporal and primal.”
Across the café, a couple is holding hands and laughing. Garry’s eyes wandered to the window and he looked at a squirrel, then a bird: a little robin. Garry smiled.
“Hi Garry,” said Liz.
Garry had been waiting for her.
“Hello Liz,” said Garry.
“Looking as resplendent as ever,” said Liz.
“Self-expression is vital,” said Garry.
Liz said “thank you” for the daffodils and she bought Garry a big glass of milk.
“Have you been looking after yourself?” asked Liz.
“Yes I have, and I have been looking after the budgies. I have sixty-four budgies in my house now. That is almost as many budgies as there are houses on this street. Some of my budgies have ascended. In total I have had two hundred and eighty-four budgies.”
Garry showed her a page of his notebook, it had lots of drawings of budgies with their names written underneath. Some had obituaries:
“Luther: as fine in death as he was in life, a beak so sharp and eyes so bright.”
“Even though they move on,” said Garry. “I always manage to gather more into my care.”
“You are so loving Garry,” said Liz. “It’s good that they have you to look after them.”
“Budgies are closer to Heaven than we will ever be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Budgies are on the inner circumference of the Ascendency Circle. Next to the Seraphim. Budgies are angels on Earth.”
Liz smiled politely.
“It’s fine to believe in those things as long as you aren’t hurting yourself or other people.”
“But how can we not be hurt Liz?” asked Garry, “We don’t deserve to be happy. Not really. That’s why no one is ever happy. We only get what we deserve, that is why we hurt. It is in our nature to hurt.”
Garry turned the pages of his notebook to show Liz.
“I have many notes on this,” he stopped on one page and passed Liz the book.
Liz looked at the page. It bore a strange drawing of worms wearing human clothing,
“I have decorated the pages too. Very finely decorated them. These notes will guide humanity. Attention is in the details!”
“Do you think you'll ever get over it?” asked Liz, changing the subject. “What happened back then?”
“People are in darkness. There is no changing what has happened and worse things have happened since. Worse things will continue to happen. It is the nature of our sphere. We aren't the ones that need to be looked after. My duty is to the budgies because, unlike us, they were created to ascend. It is their needs that matter. They can reach heaven and we cannot. I need to tell everyone what matters, then everyone can look after them with me.”
The homeless man, from earlier, pushed open the door of the cafe and pointed at Garry.
“You're going to get a good hiding! What are you? Some kind of puff! I'll burn your house down!”
Garry stood up angrily and spilled his milk.
“No you won't!” he shouted. “I am protecting them! I won't allow a single budgie to burn ever again!”
ABSENT
Under the nothing sky It sits there. The dirty, stupid, big-headed, ignorant mistake. Not paying Its Mother any attention. Looking up at the nothing like It thought It was something.
“You are rubbish! And small! Except for your big stupid head!” said Mother.
It ignores her and stares upwards.
Mother gets one of her better children to throw a rock at the Mistake's over-sized head.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA,” laugh the good children.
They laugh, they point, they laugh again.
The disgusting Mistake stares up at the nothing sky. The Mistake is ignorant, selfish, shameless and full of pride. Thinking It was better and thinking It was something.
“You are nothing!” said Mother.
The Mistake stares up at the nothing.
“No one likes you!” said Mother. “Your own family hates you! Your Mother doesn't even want to see you!”
Another stone is thrown.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA,” laugh the good children.
Ignore It, thought Mother, let's just get back to digging our new home. Where we can be together forever. We can leave that Mistake behind us.
“Yes Mother!”
The good children are so good with their big shovel-hands. They listen to what Mother has to say. The Mistake never pays attention to Mother.
“Your head is too big,” said Mother. “Too big and stupid. Yes! It is true! Staring into nothing! That’s all your big, STUPID head is good for!”
The Mistake stares up at the nothing sky.
Nothing is the same colour as absent.
A BOOT THROUGH THE HILLOCK
He kicked the hard, soil hillock with his boot.
"Uh!" he grunted.
Again, he kicked the hard, soil hillock with his boot.
"Uh!" he grunted.
Again, he kicked the hard, soil hillock with his boot.
"Uh!” he grunted again.
A small piece dislodged from the hard, soil hillock.
"Uh!" he grunted again.
And again.
And again.
People were watching him kick the hard, soil hillock.
"Uh!"
They found him offensive and annoying, but not enough to complain.
Finally, at long last, he had flattened the hard, soil hillock. The surrounding area was now a mess of hard, soil fragments.
"I'VE FINISHED!" he yelled.
His arms outstretched, his fists clenched, his t-shirt pulled over his face.
"I'VE FINISHED! I'VE FINISHED! I'VE FINISHED!"
About the Author
Tragically from Doncaster and sadly living in Manchester; Garth is a multi-media polymath.
Hole Punch is his first book.
