Free Fungus of the Heart by Jeremy C. Shipp Page A

looks.”
    You don’t deserve this, so I try to cover your ears.
    But the Man snatches you away from me.
    “Give him back!” I say.
    The Man throws you on the floor, and grabs me by the arms. He forces me back into the cabinet.
    “Let me out!” I say.
    He doesn’t.
    And through the keyhole, I watch him drink from you as if he owns you.
    Now, I’m sure.
    I’m going to die in here. Unloved. Alone.
    *
    You have to understand.
    Normally, I wouldn’t try to kill another person, but I don’t think this thing counts as one.
    I’m almost positive.
    So I say, “Have you heard the one about the decapitated mouse and the talking intestines?”
    The Man shakes his head.
    So I tell him the only joke I know, but the Man doesn’t seem to appreciate Death Cat humor, because he doesn’t even smirk once.
    I sigh.
    Then I notice the notches on the cabinet wall.
    “It’s my birthday,” I say.
    “So?” the Man says.
    “I want to hold Sal.”
    And my muscles ache with hope and the power of my birthday wish.
    Finally, the Man says, “It’s my birthday too. Therefore, my wish cancels out your wish. You get nothing.”
    I want to cry, but my mason jar can’t hold any more tears.
    So I watch in silence as the man pours hot water into you.
    Then, after all my years of waiting for you, you scream.
    And I want so much to hold you in my arms.
    “It hurts!” you say.
    And I know what it’s like to burn, because a strange fire always flares up in my face whenever I think about what happened to my parents.
    “Help me!” you say. “Help me!”
    I realize now that you’re more than my friend.
    And of course I want to save you, but I don’t want to face the Man outside. I recognize him now. I recognize myself in him. And if I leave this cabinet, I’ll probably end up becoming him.
    I’m better off locked up. If I ignore your pleas and my heart long enough, all my suppressed emotions will transform me. And become me. And in this state, I’ll never feel anything ever again.
    I imagine myself as a monster, and part of me wants to embrace a life without fear.
    But I love you enough to love myself.
    So I kick open the door. Easily.
    And I say, “Pour out the water.”
    “Never,” the Man says.
    “I’ll fight you if I have to.”
    “You don’t stand a chance.”
    “I don’t?”
    “You’re a Child. I’m a Man.”
    I feel the urge to close myself off again, so I face my cabinet. But instead of climbing inside, I reach for a container of piss and shit.
    Then I change my mind.
    So I throw my jar of suffering at the Man’s face.
    And he bleeds and shrinks and cries my tears.
    And maybe he feels happy for me, because he smiles too, even when Holly pounces from the shadows and rips him apart.
    And in the Man’s place comes the Man With a Cup for a Son.
    So I dump out the hot water, and fill you with love.

Just Another Vampire Story
     
    When She Found Out
    Steven had hoped for a fight the day Helena found out.
    He imagined the episode quite often. She would toss his clothes out the window, like in all the movies. And he would say something like, “Please! Let’s talk about this like adults!” At some point in the heat of it all she would smack him in the face with a memento of their lives together. Say, a framed photograph or one of those frowning porcelain clowns he’d always bought her for her birthday.
    He’d touch his face and feel the liquid come forth. Yes, some blood would be nice. The crimson streams running down his nose and trickling along the crevice of his lips. So that he could just barely taste it.
    But Steven had no such luck.
    Helena simply met him at the door and whispered in a drawn out breath, “You cheated on me.” She locked herself in the bathroom. And wouldn’t come out. And wouldn’t speak. And Steven scrubbed the kitchen floor because he didn’t know how to clean away the darkness he’d shoved into Helena’s heart.
    When She Rocked
    Steven wasn’t sure, but he suspected that Helena had