Excerpt: My Brother, The Murderer (Working Title)

The moment I was born. I shat and for the next five days refused to repeat the act. It is customary and normal that a mother and her newly born are visited by a number of visitors, and are greeted with the traditional

“How are you feeling today?”

“How is the baby?”

“Where is the baby?”

“What have you named the baby?”

And a countless other questions which people who have given birth to would be aware of. But the visitors who came to visit me and my mother were neither normal nor customary.

Things were always very different when it came to me, and it all started from the very first day I was born, people came from far and near to take glimpse at me, from complete strangers to close relatives, they all had a single burning question in their minds which they wanted to ask, but all they could manage to ask was,

“Did he shit today?”

And the question was always met with a negative response. As news of the kid who refused to answer natures call spread like wild fire around the small community of Chiroptery Ville. People reacted in the two possible ways all humans react when faced with the unknown, digest the news with a pinch of salt and take it lightly and brush it off, or, crane their necks towards the perceived higher powers hoping that somebody up there hears their faint whispering questions and answers their prayers.

But, Dr. Hymen was a doctor, a serious one at that, and he had enough with me. He was the one who suggested I be called as Alan, he personally suggested to my young parents. He told me later on that he suggested the name with tongue in cheek reference to the name’s origin being a rock, a rock which Dr. Hymen thought was responsible for my reluctance to shit.

With each passing day, Dr. Hymen’s patience turned more and more into the kidney stone causing him immense pain whenever he visited Barb’s room, my mother. On the fifth day, Dr. Hymen after consulting Dr. Payne decided to inform Barb E. Dahl, my mother, of his future course of action if I still refused to shit that day.

Barb E. Dahl, my mother, was the quintessential mother who found all babies to be cute and adorable. Though she was everything but conventional when she got pregnant. She tricked Chuck U. Farley, my very reluctant father, into impregnating her and then she pulled the ultimate coup d'état, when she managed to convince Chuck into staying back and doing the right thing, Chuck ended up marrying her.

Chuck invariably was not my greatest fan and definitely did not care what happened to me. So when Dr. Hymen came in to suggest the course of action, and get Chuck and Barb E.’s consent to proceed with the risky procedure, Chuck was more than happy to hand me over to the doctor. Chuck was really bad at acting out the part of being a concerned and a loving father.

“So… did he shit yet?”

“No…Not yet…Is there something wrong?” quizzed Barb.

“He seems to be a healthy boy…but if he doesn’t shit by the end of day…Then, am afraid we would have to do operate on the little man…The procedure is called Craponema…”

“Craponema? What does that mean?” Chuck asked cutting Dr. Hymen off, being a closet academic he was always interested in knowing about things.

“Well, to spare you all the unpleasant details let me put it this way… It’s a lot like putting a spoon inside an empty Nuttela jar and scooping whatever we find…Before we…”

There is no plausible reason or logic which explains what happened next other than the fact that I somehow managed to comprehend what was going to be shoved in my behind, and I shat right then and there in Dr. Hymen’s lab coat.

“Well…” Dr. Hymen said disgustedly, “That saves me and the nurses some trouble of preparing the operation table I suppose” said Dr. Hymen as he motioned the accompanying nurse to clean me up as Barb E. Dahl grinned the widest grin she could manage while Chuck looked disdainfully.

At that moment, people knew, I was meant for great and extraordinary things in life. They just weren’t sure if they could handle me or if I could handle the world.