Sunday, February 12, 2012
the nonchalant euthanasia of Clay Yablonsky (excerpt)
Accent in full effect, she responded “I vill get them ven it is time…. Eat first.”
He sat at the table, and she placed before him a giant bowl of goulash and a thick piece of Polish rye bread. Although he had no appetite, he ate the stew and the bread. He thought how lucky he had been to have been able to eat such food his entire life; throughout the course of his existence friends would come over and enjoy his mom’s authentic eastern euro cooking; he wished he had more of an appetite – that he could savor these flavors… He finished his bowl, and set it on the floor. Alas: the border-collie/Australian shepherd stirred and lapped the remains of the bowl clean.
“Vould you like them vith beer, or juice…”
She went to a cupboard and grabbed a blister-pack that contained two medium-sized pills. She poured a glass of water and handed it to him, along with the pills.
“So long” he said as he downed the pills with a gulp of water.
He hugged his mom and went downstairs.
He was astonished how quickly the pills had taken affect – and how strong they were. By the time he got to the couch downstairs he was in a numb euphoria. A minute later, he was half asleep. Casually, a few memories of his existence passed before his eyes, and then…”You bastards” he whispered, and died.