AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I popped a French fry in my mouth.
You’re eating a butterfly.
I stared down at the plate of French fries and focused on the flavors in my mouth, willing my brain to release the mental imagery.
I bit down on the French fry and started chewing.
You’re crushing it between your teeth. A picture of the black body embedded in the grooves of my molars invaded my brain.
The bitter pungent taste of oregano registered on my tongue.
That’s the taste of the butterfly, its body crushed, its body fluids spilling over your tongue, its tiny legs trapped between your teeth.
“Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.”
Lucky’s voice came from far away as I attempted to focus on the conversation instead of struggling with what was in my mouth.
“Yes.”
My stomach churned. I wondered if I could swallow without chewing. I took a sip of my water, my eyes scanning the surface for bugs.
That water is contaminated. Feces. Insects. Germs.
Focus. Focus. Find something to look at and swallow.
“I don’t know too much about it, but I’ve had students over the years with the diagnoses so I’m not entirely ignorant of it. From what I’ve seen, it can be a real ballbuster.”
I looked up at his face, his sensitive, compassionate face that somehow comforted me and thought about fucking him to distract myself long enough that I could swallow the offensive French fry.
I laughed. “Yes, indeed. That’s a rather apt description.” Time to move on to another subject or I’d never get another bite in. “Are you a teacher?”
He leaned forward and his eyes lit up. “Yes. I’m a high school teacher. I teach music.”
“Your eyes just lit up. You enjoy your job.”
“I do. Most of the time. At my school there’s a lot of poverty. Even the school itself doesn’t get enough funding, especially not the music department.”
“My nephew takes music. He was telling me that there aren’t enough instruments, not much variety. I offered to buy him a guitar, but he said coming in with a brand-new instrument would get him the wrong kind of attention.”
Lucky nodded thoughtfully. “He’s right. I’m working on something for my classroom. I’m going to talk to Barrett about doing a fundraiser night with Drivetrain.”
I took a deep breath. Relaxed. Started eating my salad.
Is the lettuce properly washed?
“Drivetrain is your band, correct?”
“Yes,” he said, again with the light-up smile. “We’re having our first show of the season soon.”
“What would you buy with the funds?” I was curious, for my own purposes as well.
“Ukuleles, guitars, portable keyboards, maybe some bongos. Shit, I’d even throw in a few xylophones.” He laughed. “The problem is some of the kids want to take the instruments home. But there’s no way I can hope to buy enough instruments for all my students to be able to have exclusive use of them.” He looked uncomfortable as he admitted, “And it’s not unheard of for an instrument to be lost and a few days later turn up in a pawn shop.”
“So, a class set that remains in the classroom would be better. What would you need for a class set?”
“In a perfect world? A classroom set would include a drum set or two, five guitars, five or six ukuleles, three or four bongos, three portable keyboards, one full-size, and a couple of xylophones. I have roughly half of that. There's no way my school could afford decent wind instruments. That's a dream for a utopian world.”
“Are most of the high schools in Milltown operating under the same lack of resources?”
