The Youth in Asia
Dina’s failed her first suicide attempt. She chose pills and booze. She drank too much booze and not enough pills. She went to bed drunk and listening to British Pop. Her parents found her the next day. Instead of death’s embrace, she received a nice nap, a hangover, and 2 months without phone or internet.
Kurt was fired and he had no wife to come home too. So he got a gun and thought about killing himself. He sat at the kitchen table and contemplated.
“Hey man.”
“Hey Corey.”
“How’s it hanging?”
“Good. You?”
“Not so good. My best friend died.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Yeah.”
“What was her name?”
“Dina Ruiz.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know her.”
“I think I gotta friend request from someone named that.”
“Musta been a long time ago.”
“It was yesterday.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well she died yesterday.”
“Weird.”
Charlie Pimento was retired and his wife was dead. He once owned a hardware store called Pimento’s Hardware, of all names. He sold it when he was 65 because none of his kids wanted it. His wife died on a camping trip when she drowned in a creek 3 feet deep. He had terminal cancer and it manifested itself as a tumor at the back of his head. It looked like a large goiter or a turkey egg. His days included golf, newspapers, and bowls of oatmeal. He invited his kids over to his house to tal about the egg a the back of his head:
“I’m gonna die.”
“No you’re not.”
“How come, Dad?”
“Everyone deserves to live.”
“Did you repaint the den?”
“I have cancer.”
“Cancer?”
“Is it genetic?”
“Who told ya that?”
“I love the color.”
“Doctor told me.”
“How long you got?”
“Is it genetic? You didn’t answer that.”
“That’s a shame.”
“What are we talking about?”
“Dad’s got cancer.”
“Cancer?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it genetic?”
“That’s what I asked.”
“I don’t know if ya’ll got it.”
“That’s scary.”
“I got 6 months.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna make an appointment with my doctor.”
“Are you gonna do hospice?”
“Who gets the house?”
“Have you told anyone else?”
“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”
“I’m gonna do what I wanna do.”
“What do you wanna do?”
“I wanna do what I wanna do.”
“What?”
“He hasn’t decided is what he’s sayin’.”
“What?”
“He gonna just die?”
“That makes no sense.”
Kurt decided to not think at the kitchen because he got sentimental and when he gets sentimental he gets sleepy. So he went to his bedroom with the gun and laid down. And he contemplated.
Dina’s second suicide attempt was less successful than the first one. She got a box f razor blades and went into the bathroom. She took a hot bath and held the razor in her hand. Her eyes filled with tears and she prayed to God. To forgive her and all that. So she held the razor blade and right before she can make her arm squirt cherries she knocks the box into the bathtub. When she got out she looked like a cat got hold of her legs, stomach, ass, and thighs.
Corey sat with his head in his hands. He went home and his mom made him mac and cheese. He took his too tight t-shirt off and sat down. His backpack was downstairs and his computer was off. He decided not to read his comic books tonight so he just sat. His parents were talking bout him downstairs. The walls were so thin that he could hear almost every word.
“You think he’s depressed?”
“He old enough to be depressed?”
“I think so.”
“You think something happened at school?”
“Prolly.”
He closed his eyes and turned over on his bed.
Kurt sat on his bed like a teenager. Listened to emo/pop/punk/rock/shit like a teenager. He was crying like a teenager. And he was contemplating killing himself, like a teenager. But he was bald like a 40 year old. He was fat like a 40 year old. He wore bifocals like a 40 year old. He had been smoking for 20 years, like a 40 year old. He tried to be a teenager and acted like but old Kurt could no grasp in his mind that he was 40 yeas old not 14. The damn gun belonged to him not his dad.
Charlie Pimento had a life insurance worth of over 2 million and all his kin knew it. As soon as he let out the fact that he had cancer he had visitors every day. All of them hoping to have a place in his will.
“Uncle Charlie! It’s me. Jim-bo. I’m your nephew”
“Charlie. Me and your son Danny used to play together as kids.”
“Charlie. Tu eres mi padre.”
So Charlie went to the doctor one last time.
“It’s terminal, Charlie.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok. I just want you to be sure.”
The he went to his lawyer.
“You tell anyone?”
“Yeah. I told my family.”
“How did they react?”
“Umm…fine. They reacted fine.”
“What do you mean by fine, Charlie?”
“Apathetic.”
“So they were apathetic to your terminal cancer?”
“Yeah…kinda…”
“My God.”
“Well it ain’t nothn’ new.”
“It isn’t?”
“Not really.”
“Why is that?”
Lawyer got out his lunch. Charlie looked at it.
“Charlie?”
“Yeah.”
“Why is your children’s apathy nothing new to you?”
“I don’t know…um..it’s just…”
He focused on his lawyer’s lunch.
“You don’t mind if I eat do you?”
“No. Go ahead.”
Lawyer unwrapped a sandwich and got a bag of chips.
“You were saying?”
“About?”
“About how your kids were apathetic to you dying…”
Lawyer took a big bite of tuna sandwich and some of it was in his mustache.
“I forgot what I was gonna say about it…”
“Well (swallow) you wanna take em out of your will, Charlie?”
“Nah…I wouldn’t wanna do that…”
Smack smack eat chew sloch. Puts a chip in his mouth.
“Well they culd wanna take avantage of you…”
“Yeah…”
Smack smack smack chew chew chew sloch spit chip crunch. Swallow it all down.
“Oh. I’m sorry, Charlie. How rude of me. You wanna bite?”
“Not really. I feel nauseous.”
Kurt was in fetal position on the bed as the music played. He turned over and started wrting his note. His last testament to humanity on how it wronged him and how he could have better service. My steak was dry and the service was terrible. Not enough flair. He tried to be poetic:
What is a few short years to live in hell. That is all I get around here.
No more I will pay the bills.
No more I will drive the car.
No more I will wash, iron & mend any clothes.
No more I will have to eat the leftover articles that was cooked the day before.
This is no way to live.
Either is it any way to die.
He left instructions and philosophy.
Because I am an agnostic and believe funeral fanfare to be nonsense -- I ask that it be forgotten. Instead, knowing there to be a marked shortage of cadavers for the medical profession, for which I have endless respect, I hereby bequeath 1) my body to medics for dissection. I want there to be no tears for my death, because there was fewer than none in my life.
He apologized to certain people:
To Mrs. Jacoby, my land lady, I’m sorry for the mess. If I were here I would help you clean it up. The rent ofr the month is in the top drawer. Believe me, I tried my best to leave as little property damage as I could.
To my ex-wife sorry for loving you too much and caring to much and cleaning up all your shit after you and liking all your stupid goddamn movies and your stupid goddamn stupid jokes and all that. Sorry for caring so much. Maybe you’ll care about me once I’m gone.
He gave reasons:
Fall quarter I called Suicide Prevention. I'd called them before and the people were nice, but this time the woman acted a little indignant. "Why the hell do you want to do something like that?" she asked. We talked until she said she had other phone calls. But she made me promise I wouldn't try it without calling back first. I had a bottle of Coricidin from a wisdom tooth operation. I'd been thinking about it for a month off and on. Much later that night I took ten Coricidin and went to bed. I woke up in the morning feeling really rotten -- weepy, groggy. I could hardly move I thought I was going to die any minute. Too bad I didn’t. I assure I wish I had. And you know what? If I had gotten a little bit more service on this Earth, then maybe I’d still be on it. So it’s your fault Suicide Prevention!!!!!!!
And, lastly, he gave his bid adieu:
Sunday 4:45 PM. Here goes
Though I am about to kick the bucket I am as happy as ever. I am tired of this life so am going over to see the other side.
Good luck to all.
And Kurt sat up in the bed. He held the gun in his hand. He thought some more.
Dina tried suicide a last time. She thought about hanging herself but saw it as to disgusting to find. She thought about the stove but hers was electric. So she went online. She put online:
What's the easiest and fastest way to commit suicide?
i'm ugly...have no self esteem... have no social life... i hate being with people.... I'm 80% sad most of the day.... I just have no motivation or energy......
I just want it to be over....
She didn’t get a response.
Corey’s parents came into his room. Corey had a pillow over his face.
“Corey?”
“Hmmm?”
“It’s Mommy and Daddy…”
“Hey son.”
Took the pillow offa his face.
“What is it?”
“We just noticed you were depressed and we…”
“I’m not depressed.”
“Ok. Wel…you seem less chipper than normal…”
“Sorry.”
“Did something happen at school?”
“No.”
“Someone call you a name?”
“No.”
“Someone hurt your feelings?”
“No.”
“Are you gay?”
“Dad!”
“Well it’s just a question! Are you?”
“No!”
“See? Now I got an answer.”
“What’s this about?”
“We saw you were depressed and…”
“We wanted to know if everything was all right son…”
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah. Everything’s all right.”
“You suicidal son?”
“No. I’m not suicidal.”
“Ya sure?”
“Yes.”
“You want some cocoa?”
“No. I’m just gonna go to sleep.”
“
Another story that isn't done.
