The Hubris of Flight
Part Three
She finished out the rest of her shift, unable to fully process what she had experienced. The crazed man in her FluffMart store. Throwing the poor alicorn against the wall. Driving away in a panic, over a sidewalk and nearly killing himself in the process. She sat in her car in the parking lot, emotionally drained, physically sick. She took out her phone, needing to tell someone about the bizarre encounter. She braced herself.
She dialed a contact in her cellphone and waited as it rang three times before a gruff male voice answered.
âHey, howâs it going sweet-â
âDad, I saw Adam in the store earlier today.â She blurted out. No time for niceties.
A heavy silence followed.
âIs he still there?â
âNo, he drove away.â She replied, hearing her own voice crack slightly. A slight sting as her eyes betrayed her. Tears held back for over a decade were now threatening to flow.
She took a deep breath and recounted to her father everything that happened. She was stocking shelves when a man came in. She didnât pay attention, until he spoke to himself out loud. She immediately recognized his voice. She looked over and saw her brother Adam in the front of the store.
âHe didnât recognize me at all, Dadâ she began to sob âhe⌠he just looked right through me. He had the most upsetting smile and just⌠stared at me.â The dam of emotions broke and she let the tears flow. She wept openly as she continued to tell her story. Watching her brother pick out six fluffies, six Pegasi no less, and no other supplies, or food, or anything. Watching him become entranced by the brown alicorn in the display near the checkout counter. Following him out into the parking lot, only to see him hurl the alicorn into the wall.
âI talked to him, Dad.â
âWhat did you say?â
âI⌠I saw him throw that fluffy and I just⌠I reacted. I said ââŚreallyâ, you know? Like I was surprised. I thought he would hear my voice and, I dunno⌠snap out of it.â She took a deep breath. She had hoped for years that her brother would simply snap out of his delusions. Hoped that the doctors were wrong about his condition, and had misdiagnosed him. She used to dream about it. She used to pray for it.
She knew better now.
âHe looked at me again and he looked⌠scared, Dad. He looked scared.â
âYou said he got into a car and drove away? I didnât know he had a car.â
âMe neither, Dad. He got in some shit-box Honda sedan and drove over the fucking sidewalk to get away. His eyes were locked on me the whole time. He almost went into oncoming traffic, I was so scared.â
It was silent for some time, neither father nor daughter knowing what to say. She took deep breaths, her tears finally subsiding. Her father spoke next:
âI canât believe he got a car somehow. I donât suppose you saw the license pla-â
âNo plates. Silver Honda, older, four door. No plates. Might even be stolenâŚâ
âFuckâŚâ
The silence resumed. It was heavy and uncomfortable. Neither side knew what to do. Worse, they each knew there was nothing they could do.
âAmandaâŚâ her father began âdo me a favor and, well⌠letâs not mention this to your mother, okay?â
âOf course Dad. I wonât.â
The silence again. Painful.
âDadâŚ?â
âYeah.â
âDo you think heâs going to⌠hurt himself?â
ââŚI donât know.â
She had to ask it. She didnât want to. Maybe by asking she would will something into existence, something awful. But she couldnât help herself. She asked:
âDo you think heâs going to hurt anyone else?â
A long, long pause.
âI donât know.â
The tears were back. Her breathing ragged. She closed her eyes, feeling dizzy.
âDaddy Iâm scared.â
ââŚme too.â
He tossed the chirpeh-babbeh up and down in his right hand. He tried to keep the height consistent, maybe five or six feet of altitude gain with each toss. The other fluffs objected, whinnying like the homosexual dunces they were. It was obvious to him why. Jealous huu huus, feigned indignation, thinly-veiled gaslighting. They didnât care about this chirpeh babbeh.
They just wanted their turn to fly.
The chirpeh-babbeh was so small, it could flap its wings like a hummingbird and hover in place. He could see it. He did see it. In his mind, he saw it. The small creature hovering in front of his face. He knew it could fly. But it wasnât. It could but it wasnât. It wasnât. It didnât want to. Worse, it was choosing not too. That means⌠it didnât want him to fly! It wanted him not to fly!
âYou little MOTHERFUCKER.â
He began to get angry. The altitude increased with each toss. The babbeh seemed to regain its will to live, tiny peeps and cheeps emanating from its diminutive body. The other fluffs continued to protest.
âhuu daddeh nu keep fwowing widdew babbeh, he jus a widdew babbehâ
âbabbehs awe fow wuv an huggies, not fow fwowingâ
He caught the foal and held it tight. He brought it up to his eyes. He pressed his nose to its tiny muzzle. It breathed rapidly, its entire body trembling. It was too dehydrated to vomit or urinate on him, too starved to defecate. It trembled and peeped, relying solely on cuteness to stay alive.
He used two fingers of his flayed left hand to open the babbehs eyes. They werenât ready to open, and the creature squealed in pain as its still sensitive cornea was exposed to the cold, brisk air. It was facing directly towards the sunset, the brightness of the colors and the intensity of the direct sunlight caused extreme discomfort and pain. It screamed frantically.
âchirp-chirp-chirp! chirp-chirp! chirp-chirp-chirp-chirp!"
He used his fingers to open the other eye. The creature struggled to control the underdeveloped sensory organs, the eyes darting about and staggering in and out of focus. Any time it tried to close an eye-lid, he re-opened it roughly. He stretched the eyelids far beyond their natural limits.
âThe time for hiding is over, little one. Itâs not time to rest⌠it is time to SEE.â
The foals eyelids were folded over backwards from his rough handling, it couldnât close them anymore.
He dropped to his knees and the adult mare came to him, holding her arms up for the babbeh. He handed the creature over, and she began to lick at its eyes, hoping to mend the wound. The babbeh shook as if seizing, the skin arounds its eyes twitching and pulsating as it tried to close its prolapsed eyelids.
He was focused on its wings.
They buzzed faster than he had ever seen. They were almost a blur. He could hear a humming in the air with how frantic and powerful the flaps were.
Each lick from the well-intentioned mares rough tongue sent the foal to new levels of agony. The mares tongue repeatedly slithered between eyeball and eyelid. Her hot, thick saliva irritated his virginal cornea, blurring his vision, distorting the unfamiliar shapes and colors. Her hot breath between her nervous huu huus made the eyes itchy and irritated.
He saw the wings beating even faster. Fast as a hummingbird.
Itâs so closeâŚ
He snatched the helpless foal from the worried mare. Placing it on his left palm, he used the fingernails of his right index finger to scratch the foals exposed eyeball. He could feel organic gunk collecting under his fingernails as he rapidly abraded the eye of the captive babbeh.
CHIRP! PEEP! S-SCREE
His fingers were soaked in the humors of the creatures punctured eyeball. The wings were flapping so hard and so fast, but⌠it still wasnât flying.
He moved to the remaining eyeball, scratching like it was a lottery ticket. The foal used its forelegs to try to defend its ruined face. He quickly grabbed the forelimbs between his thumb and finger, ripping them from the creature. Tossing them aside like cigarette butts, he resumed his grim task. He was now peeling the eyelids from foals skull.
What was this oneâs name again? Goyslop? Negro Fatigue? It didnât matter. It was so close. Sooo close. He could see it in the beating of the wings. He shouted at the little creature:
âWHEN YOU CAN FLY I CAN FLY WHEN YOU CAN FLY I CAN FLY WHEN YOU CAN FLY I CAN FLY LET ME FLYâ
It wasnât ready. It needed one more push to truly transcend.
He grabbed the foal by its scruff, letting its body dangle. There, between its hind legs.
Itty bitty spechuw wumps and nu-nu stick.
He squeezed one testicle, feeling it burst from the creatures body like an edemame bean from its pod. The animal was silent, beyond the ability to scream. He repeated with the other wump, ejecting it from the tattered nutsack.
Only one thing left. He grabbed the foals tiny penis and began to pull, gently at first, until he reached the tensile limit of the organ. He stretched and held it. He watched the wings intently. It was there. He could feel it. It was flying, All he needed to do⌠was to give it a little help.
A quick yank and the penis was gone. His fingers tightened around the foal and he leaned back. Looking up to the sky, he hurled the miniature horse as hard and fast as he had ever thrown anything in his life. The hamster sized equine disappeared into the darkening sky, and he lost sight of it.
The fluffies fell silent, their huu huus paused and they waited for their damaged babbeh fwend to come back.
He waited. It was silent. The shadows lengthened and the sun set completely.
Based on the trajectory of the throw, he figured it would fall closeby.
He waited. Watched. Listened.
One fowevah stretched into the next.
It was dark now.
The winged foal never returned to the Earth.
