Backdraft

The pencil was in his face before he had a chance to bend down and grab it off the floor. He took it. And looked at the boy on the other end of it. "Thanks," said Mark.

"You're welcome." The boy smiled.

All the blood in Mark's heart rushed into his brain, throbbing in waves against the inside of his skull. He smiled. For the first time all school year, he smiled. Then nodded and looked down to the paper on his desk, his eyes flitting to the side to catch a glimpse of the boy's Air Jordans as they walked away. And the blood refused to flow, it just ebbed and ebbed and ebbed and Daniel Riley and Daniel Riley and Daniel Riley Daniel RileyDanielRileyDanielRiley-

The school bell rang and the children got into line and followed their teacher, a small, freckled black woman in an ill-fitting green dress, out to the playground, little groups forming as their feet hit the sand and taking off to this set of monkey bars or that sliding board or some other metal apparatus offering a break from the forced air-conditioned homogeneity of the classroom. Mark took up his usual spot on the far end of the playground, balancing himself on a short beam of wood that helped close in the fun of the other children.

"Hey-"

Mark turned and quickly looked down, sucking a silent breath into his lungs. "Hey-"

"You wanna see something?"

Mark nodded. "What?"

"Come here-" Daniel jumped up on the beam, looked around a few times, and took off, one foot in front of the other, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Mark followed, his legs bloodless, numb, floating Daniel Riley Daniel RileyDanielRileyDanielRiley-

Daniel stopped at the bottom of a small but steep brush-lined dip just past the playground, from which they could see only the tops of the rocking swingsets. He turned around and held out his hand. Mark glanced down, then up into Daniel's blue eyes, the irises of which were outlined by deep black rings, and giggled. Daniel's dimples appeared as Mark took the match box from his hand, his chest heavy with forced breathing, and opened it, spilling the matches into his hand.

Zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet zzet

The brush caught fire on the 17th match, and the two boys ran back up to the playground, pushing each other back and forth with their shoulders and laughing. As they joined the rest of the class marching in single-file back into the red-brick building they would call home during the day for the next 5 years, they looked back and saw the first visible tips of the conflagration shoot above the playground. Mark put up his small hand and Daniel met it with his in the few inches of space between their grinning faces.

Zoology 101

Mark put both hands around the body of the tiny, orange tabby he'd found in the woods behind his foster home amongst its 4 dead brothers and sisters and submerged it in the full sink until the bubbles stopped. He wrapped it in a thick, white towel that smelled strongly of chlorine, stuck his head out the bathroom door, looked around several times, then scampered to his bedroom.

Locking the door behind him, he pushed six or seven copies of Spiderman comic books and one well-read copy of Crime and Punishment off his tiny desk and spread the towel open on its surface. He held a ruler along the tabby's length. Six inches from nose to tail-

A knock came on the door. Mark quickly wrapped the tabby in the towel and put it in the top desk drawer. He opened the door. It was Claude, his foster father, a tall, light-skinned black man whose face was hidden behind black and white curly whiskers and whose average-length penis fit effortlessly into Mark's anus when it was properly lubricated with enough saliva.

"What you doing, boy?"

"Homework-"

"All right. I was just checkin on ya." Claude laughed and shook his head. "You got more homework than any first grade kid I know." He shut the door behind him.

Mark locked it and pulled the tabby out of the drawer, along with a stained straight razor Claude had been missing since Mark had been placed in his home six months before. He pulled his shorts and underwear off and leaned back, snapping his arms forward so that his elbows popped, then hunched over the tabby as he drew the razor down its plump belly. As usual, the congealed blood seeped out first, trickling purple over the white-orange fur of the tabby's stomach, followed by the mixed wires of the thing's slimed, fatty innards.

Mark stood up, gathered the guts in his right hand and shoved them back into the carcass. He then slipped his minute erection into the incision and smashed the tabby against his pelvis, his eyes rolling back in his head, a longed-for sigh escaping his lungs, the thought of his only acquaintance at school, a small dark-haired boy with dimples named Daniel Riley, the only occupant of his brain.

Etymology

A chubby, wrinkled woman with bleach-blonde curly hair and enormous breasts sat across the desk from Mark and his mother, looking at a sheet of paper Sarah had given her moments earlier. "Honey, half the kids here are on court order."

"Oh-"

The woman looked at Mark, then at his mother. "He's adorable."

"Thank you-"

"He'll get along just fine here-"

"The state's paying for it-"

"Yes."

"Until I get back on my feet-"

"That's what we're here for." The woman handed the paper back to Sarah, her large breasts covering half the desk as she leaned forward. She picked up her pen. "We're open 24 hours, so we can provide all the care you need-"

"I work 7:30 to 4:00 with Wednesdays and Sundays off-"

The woman scribbled on her pad. "Do you have transportation?"

"Yes."

Scribble. "Will Mark be bringing his lunch-"

"No-"

Scribble. "Is he on a regular napping schedule?"

"No-"

Scribble. "Does he know his ABC's?"

"Yes."

Scribble. "Does he know his numbers?"

"Yes. He can count to a million-"

Scribble. "Can he spell his name?"

"Yes. He can read and write-"

"Really?" Scribble, scribble, scribble. "That's something else at that age-"

"But he can't talk-"

"Huh?"

"He can't talk-"

"What do you mean?"

"He's never said a word-"

"How about his hearing-"

"Everything's fine, he's been to the doctor and everything checks out-"

Scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble. The woman laid down her pen and sat back in her chair, the nipples of her humongous breasts casting shadows over the edge of the desk. "I'm not being smart, but if he's never said a word, how do you know that he knows his ABC's-"

"He points-"

"And reading and writing-"

Sarah reached over and grabbed the lady's pen and yellow notepad and handed them to Mark. "Write your name-" She slid the pad over to the woman when Mark was finished.

The woman looked at the pad, then at Mark. "Okay." She nodded, wide-eyed, her crow's feet smoothing, and turned her eyes to Sarah. "Forgive me. I'm sure you can understand-"

"No problem. Don't worry about it."

The woman looked at her watch. "Well, you're going to be late getting back to work if I keep you any longer. I'll take this fine young man to the activity center so he can meet his new friends before nap time."

Sarah got up and shook the woman's hand, then rubbed the thin blonde hair on Mark's head back and forth a few times. "Mama'll be back to get you at 4."

Mark adjusted his Batman backpack with a wiggle of his slight shoulders and followed the big woman down the tiled hallway, marveling at the width and density of her jiggling ass, packed tight and lumpy in a pair of stretch pants much too small. They stopped inside a door that opened upon a large room, the floor of which was littered with children, desk-chairs, yoga mats, and toys. Mark stood under the woman's breasts, shaded from the fluorescent lights overhead and nodded slightly to himself. The woman picked up a bell from the largest desk in the room and rang it, the children scattered about the place looking up at its sound. "Children, this is Mark. He's new and I want you to give him a hearty welcome."

"Hi, Mark," rang out a chorus of high-pitched voices.

A young woman, tall and slender, her brown-streaked blonde hair pulled back tight in a pony tail, came over to Mark. She held out her hand. Mark took it. "Hi, Mark, I'm Ms. Cleary. I'm the leader of this activity center. I want to welcome you." She looked up at the fat woman, then back down to Mark, smiling. "Give me your backpack and go join the other children. They're very nice. Don't be scared. It's almost nap time."

Mark watched as the woman opened a closet door behind her and hung his backpack on a hook inside; the little room had no light and seemed limitless in width and length. When the woman touched his shoulder, Mark made his way to a yoga mat and sat down. He watched as the the two women whispered to one another, their eyes widening and narrowing, their heads nodding toward him now and then, until the obese woman left.

The bell rang again - this time, it was the young woman ringing it. "Nap time." At this, the children put down their toys, pencils, crayons, paint brushes, and scissors and made their ways to the twenty or so mats arrayed in a circle in the center of the room. As the woman turned off the lights, all the children lay down, including Mark.

But he couldn't sleep. He'd never taken a nap in his short life. He'd never slept more than five hours on any given night. So he turned on his side and stared at the dozing boy next to him. A wisp of brown hair tumbled over the boy's forehead towards his turned-up nose. His eyelashes were as long as his perfectly-formed lips were full. Every few seconds, his nostrils expanded with an inhalation, then found their regular shape with a corresponding exhalation that had no scent.

A loud snore reverberated throughout the room and Mark sat up. He looked at the large dark-brown desk near the door: the young woman was behind it, her feet on the desk, her head stretched back over her chair, her small breasts heaving with sleep. After a quick survey of the room and the rest of its occupants, Mark leaned over and put his hand on his neighbor's shoulder, shaking him.

The boy's eyes popped open and he giggled. Mark put a finger to his lips and stood up. He reached his hand out to the boy, who took it and got up. Mark led the boy to the closet, opened the door carefully, and pushed him in. As he closed the door behind them, the room became pitch black, save for a sliver of dim light under the bottom of the door.

"What-"

Mark put his finger to the boy's lips and slowly dropped to his knees, digging his fingers into the waistband of the boy's shorts and underwear. He pulled them down and put his mouth on the half-inch of warm, pee-stained flesh that protruded from the boy's pelvis, rolling his tongue swiftly as he sucked in and out vigorously, the tiny holes of his nose stretching with breath-

The boy let out an animal cry as Mark bit down at the sound of the cracking door behind him. He turned and looked up, his tiny mouth smeared red with blood, and saw the young woman glaring down at him, her eyes the size of half-dollars. He opened his mouth and the boy's penis fell to the floor.

"Fuck," said Mark.

Effluvia

sed sed sed sed sed sed sed sed sed sed

Mark snorted a rubbery ball of thick snot back up into his sinuses and with a quick pull of the back of his throat, swallowed his third such meal of the day. He pushed the bare, plastic crotches of the dolls - two boys - together with more force, the backs of his chubby hands whitening, and resumed rubbing them back and forth against one another with greater ferocity.

sedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsed

When his tiny wrists grew tired, he stopped and put his forefingers to the hot mons pubis of each genital-less doll, and smiled at the searing heat. "Hoo." He re-positioned the dolls and recommenced playing as the door to the lone bedroom opened and the last man, a white man, the only he'd seen all day but one he'd seen before, walked out.

sedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsedsed

The man - close to 30, anorexic thin, hair the color of mud, eyes the color of an outdated computer screen - stood over Mark and looked down upon the oblivious boy. He crossed his arms, both of which were tattoed, one with a cross that was upside down when he raised his arm above his head, the other with burst veins, and stroked each with his opposite hand. He hovered for another minute, his bottom lip forcing itself out until he finally reached down and stroked the little blonde hairs of Mark's head. "Take care of yourself, you little fucker," he whispered, then made his way quickly out the front door.

Mark dropped his dolls with a hiss as he heard the door snap shut. He stood up, using the glass table, straightening his legs until his knees hyperextended to forget their crampedness. He saw the flashing light of his mother's TV through the open bedroom door. He put a hand to his stomach, then slid it around to his back, forcing a finger into his diaper and deep into his crack, digging against his anus with quick flips of his soft nail. Carefully bringing his hand to his mouth, he sucked his finger between his lips and swirled his tongue around it several times until it was clean and he was full.

"Mark, baby-"

He made his way around the rocker and into the bedroom he shared with his mother. She lay in the center of her empty bed, head propped against the wall behind her, knees drawn up and far apart. "Come up here with mama-"

The boy climbed onto the end of the bed, which rested on the floor without the benefit of a bed frame, and crawled to his mother, his knees smearing the brick-brown puddle on the sheet between her legs as he made his way up her unclothed body. She held him close. "Mama's had a rough time this last hour or two. You gotta take care of mama now-" Sarah put her hand to the top of his head and gently pushed him back down between her legs until his wide-eyed, hungry face was in the slush of stain that rested just beneath her hairless labia.