Pteromyini-John Fowora
Pteromyini
By John Fowora
Whoosh.
Mildred told me about a dream she had one night where she had that crazy surgery where you staple your stomach and all the fat drains from your bowel movements. Or maybe you sweat it out so when it dries, all your visible skin looks like dried Crisco.
When you lose around 400 pounds in a matter of a few years, you have these cloth-like flaps of skin, skin parachutes, even.
Fatachutes.
Flapachutes.
Flapaparafatachutes
And so on.
So you could imagine having a dream where you’re on the roof of that building in Kuala Lumpur and there are armed guards with the requisite sci-fi movie rice-burner bike helmets dressed in all black and toting automatic weapons forged by John Woo, chasing you to the very edge. And you have the choice of plummeting a century to your death, or full clips emptied and reloaded into your previously corpulent body. In this dream, you decide to jump, but instead of you-chunks all over rich Asian businessmen, you open your flaps.
Whoosh.
That’s the sound that you make as your body glides from one building to another, from skyscrapers to mountain tops, and then from tree to tree. They couldn’t catch you, those sci-fi guys. They wanted you to eat fast food and not exercise, but you were vigilant and wouldn’t succumb to their non-stop advertising and marketing campaigns that reaffirmed the fact that you once loved it.
No, you’d dare to be free.
And when she woke up from this dream, all disoriented and sweaty and still 400 hundred pounds overweight, she decided right then and there to leave me. That morning, Mildred packed her bags and walked out of the door -with the help of some vegetable oil pre-slathered on her hips- without even so much as a goodbye or a cupcake. I watched cable and ate frozen pizza for a straight week, no phone calls answered, no channel changing.
Let’s Go Surfing
When I first ordered basic cable a few years back , I didn’t expect as many home shopping channels as I got. I think there were ten or so, and they were seemingly inescapable except when turning the television off. All consumption all the time.
0800-0900pm Mookie Gomez developed this revolutionary new system video that can stop women from ever farting again. That’s right, no more embarrassing flatulence when you least expect it. It’s a DVD of mookie telling you to stop eating. No food, no gas.
I ordered two of these dvd’s, but not because I needed two/to.
The impulse to shop was almost as powerful as my compulsion to eat.
My mom loved Mildred; they used to cook together during the holidays, and my mother was never one to share her kitchen with another female. Meals as far as the eyes could see. My mom, Milly, and Me, we would sit there eating for days at a time. We would eat until we fell asleep, at the table, and wake up startled, irritable until that first bite. Not much was said, but we always felt an abundance of love. It’s what the holidays are for.
After thinking about Mildred for too long, I waddled over to the phone and dialed my mom’s number.
“Hello? Hello? Heellooooo?”
She hung up and I dialed back.
“Hello-“
“Mom, it’s me, Greg.”
“Oh, hi Greg. Someone just called and hung up on me.”
“It was me, mom.”
“Why would you hang up-“
“I didn’t.”
She has this problem with listening. She didn’t listen to my Dad before he died of complications from diabetes, either.
“You haven’t called in weeks.”
“It’s been a week, Ma.”
I put the phone to my chest to catch my breath. She was still talking on the other end and I was clutching the phone to my chest, hearing her voice through the vibration.
“Has it been-“
“Milly left me, Ma. She did. I don’t know. She’s gone.”
“Where?”
That wasn’t the response that I expected.
“I’m not sure.”
We finished what passed for a conversation and I sat back down on the sofa. My side of the sofa had an imprint in the cushion that resembled an overzealous Rorschach inkblot.
Milly-Ham
I would sometimes see Mildred’s face when I opened my refrigerator. Where the honey ham should have been, the pineapple slice a hair clip of the edible variety. I would take the Milly-ham over to watch home shopping with me. Just like before.
0400-0530am Laptop Computers for Old People
Me and the Milly-ham ate a lot. And we loved watching television.
And when it seemed like the Milly-ham was going bad, I ate her, too..Tears re-hydrated the dried up pineapple hair-clip slice. Her skin was tough and gamey, no longer the pinkish, vibrant Milly-ham that I once knew.
There would be others.
Confection Affection
My Mom loved me with an abundance of calories. She started with birthday cakes. Then every so often when I came home with a black eye from a fight or a boo-boo on my knee, she gave me a muffin.
And then fresh baked cookies.
And brownies.
And birthday cakes ( not a year passing, just because ).
Because that’s what she had to do all day ( I know this because sometimes I would ask her what she did all day and she would say, “oh, nothing.”)
Then it became more specific. Zebra Cakes. Stuff.
The time I came home with another black eye, my initial reaction to her giving me a Zebra cake was incredulity. Should I apply this to my bruised eye like I would a cold compress or a steak?
“I love you, Ma.”
“I love you too, Greg.”
I gained a nuclear-extended family.
Little Debbie was now my extra sister.
Stella Doro was mommy part deux.
I sent Grandpa Entenmann a mail-in rebate for soft bake cookies.
I guess this started in elementary school, maybe the third grade. The chubbier I got, the more friends I lost.
My ex-friends played with my boy boobs.
They made fart sounds when I sat in my chair.
When I got up from my chair.
When I spoke out loud.
When they saw me breathing for too long without interruption.
She’s Smart, Too
0400-0500am The Rapture Survival Guide – Repent
Two years after she left, Mildred calls me.
“Greg?”
“Uhhmbrrrggrrum, yeah?”
I’m eating.
“It’s Milly.”
I never spit food out, but here I am, spitting out chocolate-covered pork pieces..
“What? I’m sorry…hey.”
“Hey.”
“…I’m just surprised, you know?”
“I am too, sort of. I mean. I was watching television at the gym – you they have the stationary bikes with the tv’s on them- and I don’t know…”
“No other time?”
“…”
“Never mind. Sometimes I think about you, though…I’m stuck to the sofa.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I haven’t really moved from my side of the sofa since you left -I mean, the bathroom, sure- but no showers or-“
“Come on, you have to take care of yourself, Greg.”
“I know…”
I know.
“You know, I’ve lost over four-hundred pounds…”
“That’s…good. How did you do it?”
“Just diet and exercise…and leaving you…I’m sorry”
“Oh…No, don’t be…”
“…and I got a subscription to the Atlantic Monthly, now. We used to talk about reading more, together…I feel smarter, y’know? Maybe that’s the confidence talking.”
I love you, too.
Obesity-Induced Psychosis
Maybe Milly will come back if I get some Malaria or something like that, I could lose it quickly, like ten pounds a week is healthy or maybe fifteen because ten isn’t really enough but twenty is pushing it I think that maybe if I order a sauna for the apartment and turn it on full blast and close the windows that maybe it’ll get hot enough and I’ll lose it faster without dieting once the Malaria runs out then I’ll find something else I wonder if they sell diseases I should look on the Home Shopping Network schedule but it’s all the way on the other side of the room and they never really have any breaks in price though and I’m not sure if my mom really has the money for a sauna but then again she really loves me and she doesn’t really have to help me in this way but she’s right though, I am her son which means I’m always her son even when I can’t help myself in certain situations and I wonder if this is considered an addiction because I really don’t want to go to rehab and it just seems likes a total waste of time it’s like they want to change you and either Milly comes back to me or I’ll do something, I don’t know.
Change Gon’ Come
0700-0800am Sip, saw, cauterize, and repeat. A revolutionary new weight loss system that combines the pain of amputation with the body numbing effects of binge drinking. See results immediately.
My mom dropped the package off earlier today with some groceries. She tried to guilt trip me about only calling her when I need groceries, but she always comes over with them. I love her, but she should stop complaining so much.
You should have:
(1) 1.75 mil. Bottle of Jack Daniels brand premium whiskey.
(1) Stanley Fatmax mini-hacksaw w/fine teeth.
(1) Stanley Fatmax bow saw with wood cutting teeth.
(1) Dreyfus electric steam iron
(1) Homedics digital bathroom scale
(1) Smelling salts (not necessary if using kit alone)
Directions
1. Take a big gulp of Jack Daniels while pretending that it is a milkshake
2. Take another big gulp Jack Daniels while still pretending that it is a milkshake. If this is difficult, pretend that it is a different flavor than the last gulp.
3. Turn on the electric steam iron, but do not put water into it. The iron must remain dry. Sip the Jack Daniels while the iron heats up.
4. Use the Fatmax bow saw on your right leg while still sipping the Jack Daniels. Make sure that you don’t spend too much time on your right leg as you have to move quickly to your left for safety reasons. If for some reason you are stuck on your right leg, take another sip of Jack Daniels.
5. When your right leg is removed, place the now hot iron where the wound is. You should still be sipping the Jack Daniels.
6. Repeat this procedure with your left leg, if you have a helper nearby have him or her cauterize your legs for you as this will save you valuable time and blood.
7. Use the Fatmax handsaw on your arm of choice, as a rule of thumb you should remove the arm that you use the least. Sip the jack Daniels.
8. Cauterize your arm and roll your body onto the scale we have included in your kit.
I pass out.
“Greg, this is Milly. If you’re there, answer your phone. Ummm, I wanted to talk to you for a minute, so…I’m in out of town right now, but I’ll be back soon. I guess I just wanted to stop by. It was weird, talking to you the other day. But it was a good weird, I think. I’ll call you soon.”
I look over at the telephone and then at the television and back at the telephone and right now I want crawl over to the answering machine and replay the message over and over and over again.
* * *
“You look…good,” Mildred says as she sits next to the new me on the sofa. I had the old one thrown away and my mom bought me a new one. My mom says I’m getting too skinny. She says that I need to eat a little more. She bathes me sometimes, too.
1700-1900pm Cigarettes for people who thought that they’d never try them
“That seems interesting, huh?”
“Yes, it does. Maybe you should order it,” Mildred says..
She looks at me and smiles. Her stare is focused. She doesn’t blink.
I hold her hand tightly with my one arm and I swear I’ll never let go.
Copyright C. 2008 John Fowora