The Capital Times
Jesse Gutierrez
Part 111
All night while lying awake in
bed, Eugene contemplates his daily
torture. It’s a ritual. Everyday at
every meal it’s the same thing. The
sounds stay with him.
“I’ve got to have silence,” he
thinks to himself. The night passes
and he realizes that his absence
from the breakfast table won’t be
excused by his wife. He walks
slowly down the stairs and into the
dining room.
Silence, at last! Eugene sits and
eats his breakfast with a smile. As
he takes a big bite out of his toast he
waves his hands like a maestro and
hums a tune of Beethoven. He’s so
happy. Burnt toast and Captain
Crunch has never tasted so good.
Eugene stands up, backs away from
the table and dances as a ballerina
would. With all of the family sitting
around the table, Eugene looks to
his wife and asks with a jovial
smile, “So, how did you sleep last
night honey?” She gives no answer.
“Oh, that’s nice dear!”
He then turns to his children,
“You kids got big plans for the
weekend?” There is no reply.
“Sounds fun!”
“That was a great breakfast, hon.”
He picks up the newspaper and
searches for the latest stock market
quotes.
Brenda sits lifeless, eyes closed,
head back, arms dangling at her
side. Ten little fingers and ten little
toes float in the cereal bowl, the
milk is warm and red. A fly lands
on the metal fingernail file that
protrudes from her throat.
Eugene continues to read his
paper. Sara is face down on the
table, her tongue sits separate from
her mouth. Her teeth are scattered
FICTION
"Silence, At Last"
across the table and floor, one is
still in the knuckle of Eugene’s right
hand. She gasps for her last breath
as she chokes on her blood. With
the chewing gum wrapped around
her thumb she drifts off.
Eugene puts the paper down.
Mittens lays limp on the table, its
nose and half of its head are sub
merged in Sara’s cereal bowl. With
the lungs filled with milk, Mittens
tail sticks straight up, stiff as a
board. Eugene excuses himself from
the table, “Thanks for the great
breakfast, hon.”
Chad sits upright, eyes bulging
open. His broken jaw hangs wide
open, dislocated from his skull. A
handfull of silverware sticks out his
mouth, accompanied by a broken
orange juice glass in his right fist.
Chad’s throat is so packed with food
it looks as if it could split wide
open.
Monday, October 26,1998 7
Eugene grabs his keys, his wallet,
his shades and jumps in to his 1982
Volvo. With his clubs in his trunk,
Eugene rolls down the window and
tunes the radio. He then slowly
pulls out of the driveway and makes
his way towards the course for his
scheduled 10:30 tee time.
This issue's crossword answers
END