[3] Postal Teen

[3]

*Content Warning: This writing has characters dealing with racism, sexism, homophobia, and transphobia, as well as child abuse and other imagery that may be upsetting to some readers.

Whitey was standing there thinking when the pigeons came back. They were very worried about him. He mimed that he was okay. Told them all that happened. They didn't know what P's and Q's were either. Or what a Free Ride was. Or what a Tax Thief was. They had a hard time understanding these things because Whitey had a hard time trying to explain them. He was vaguely aware of taxes. Mostly because he had overheard adults talking about them at certain times. He couldn't really remember when, but he had heard about them. He knew they had something to do with money. And maybe the government. But he really didn't know what the government was either. That information had come to him the same way that the idea of taxes came to him. By overhearing adults talking. Free Ride was even more confounding. Because it seemed like a good thing. Free things were good. Getting a ride was good. How could combining those things be a bad thing? He didn't know. The pigeons didn't know either. They all decided they would like to take a free ride at some point. It sounded fun. They also all agreed that P's and Q's probably was short for Peas and Cutes. Which also sounded pretty good to Whitey and the pigeons. Nobody could understand how putting those words together made it a bad thing. Something that needed minding. Whitey assumed that there was going to be some peas in his future. And as far a cutes, cutes were all over the place. He told the pigeons about his birthday party and the tiny hats. The pigeons thought the party sounded like a lot of fun. They wished they had been there. Whitey said he wished they had been there too. Whitey was getting pretty good at miming stuff to the pigeons at this point. Even the stuff that nobody understood. Even Whitey. When the sun went down the pigeons said they had to go back to the river to find some dinner and rest for the night. Whitey said he understood. He would be here. They should come back tomorrow. All the pigeons agreed they would come back tomorrow. They said goodnight and flew away. Whitey felt very lonely when they left. He decided to treat himself to a bite of his sandwich hoping that would cheer him up. It did. He put the sandwich back in his pocket. Felt to make sure it was still there. It was. He didn't know what to do now. He sat down on the cot and stared at the wall. At the WET 9 he had written. He was thirsty and hungry. He wasn't tired but he didn't have anything else to do so he decided to try and get some sleep.

The night was very long. Whitey slept through a lot of it, but because he went to sleep so early he woke up early as well. He laid in the cot staring off into the blackness. There was some light coming in through the window. It threw the shadows of the metal bars on the door to the room he was locked in. At one point he realized he hadn't even tried to get out of the room. He got up and tried to open the door. It didn't open. He went back to the cot and laid down again. Every now and again he would hear someone walking by the door. The sound of a metal thing sliding would happen. Then it would shut again. This startled Whitey the first time it happened because he was looking at the door. Suddenly there were two eyes staring at him. Then the thing closed. The second time it happened wasn't as startling. The third time he ignored it. After that he didn't even really notice when it happened. He was a little confused about it, because as far as he knew it hadn't happened the night before. But he didn't know for sure. He was pretty tired the night before. He must have just slept through it. But now that he was awake, he was very sensitive to noises around him. The light coming through the window made him feel very alone. The eyeballs looking through the slot made him feel trapped. He was used to feeling trapped. He was also used to being lonely, so nothing really changed much for Whitey. But there was something about that light coming through the window that made him feel something else that he wasn't used to. Something that kind of scared him. Something the third angry woman had said. Or was it the second angry woman? He wasn't sure. One of them said he was stuck here until he was eighteen. Never in his short and sad life had Whitey really considered the idea of time. Everything just kind of happened to him. Everything was beyond his control. But the idea of having an exact amount of days he would have to live like this. Maybe in this room. Maybe worrying about food. Worrying about the pigeons. Worrying about going to the bathroom. Worrying about saying the wrong thing to the angry women. Of accidentally getting hard down below. Getting smacked in the ear. Being accused of rape. He didn't really know what rape was either, but he knew it had something to do with sex. He knew he didn't try to stab the third angry woman with his hard penis. But that didn't matter. What she said about anything was what was going to be considered what had happened. He knew this all too well. He learned this lesson very early from his dealings with Jonx and Brandy. There was nothing he could do or say that would change anyone's mind when they made it up. But the idea of living like this for exactly how many days? Whitey tried to calculate how long that would be. He was thirteen. Five years is a long time, he decided. Half his life was six and a half years. That was almost half of his life, five years. He thought about this while laying down. Staring at the shadows on the door. He fell back asleep.

He was dreaming when the slot opened and closed again. The sound woke him up. In his dream he was walking around a house with a bunch of mouse traps on every surface. Whitey was naked. He was just walking around. Looking at the mouse traps. The house was dark and empty. It was an apartment. He realized it was Jonx and Brandy's apartment. He didn't want to be naked. He was looking for clothes. He heard a noise so he went to turn around. Just then a his penis landed in a mouse trap. Triggering the snapping hammer part of the trap. He looked down. His penis was caught in the trap. He screamed. Then he woke up. He felt for his genitals. Making sure they were safe. They were. While he was down there he checked his pocket. The sandwich was still there. He looked around. There was sun coming into the room now. Whitey was glad the night was over. He was glad that he didn't have to sleep anymore. The dream had scared him. It made him feel funny. Not in a good way, the way the Head Mistress had made him feel. She made things seem okay down there. This was different. He was beginning to think that there were other emotions that came from that part of his body. Not good emotions either. Emotions that somehow related to Jonx and Brandy. A lack of control that he hadn't experienced before. A lack of control that came from within his body. Not outside his body like everything else. He wished that he didn't have these feelings. He really didn't like them. They were very new and very unfamiliar. He looked at the light coming in through the window. Shining on the door. He didn't see any pigeon shadows so he didn't bother getting up. He just kind of waited there. Wondering if he should have a bite of sandwich. He only had a couple bites left. He hoped that the angry women would bring him some food like yesterday. He was thirsty. Very thirsty. He had to stop thinking about it because the memory of drinking the milk yesterday was just making him wish he had a whole gallon of milk to drink. He thought about drinking from the toilet again. Like the third angry woman had suggested. Whitey was almost certain she didn't mean it. She had laughed when she said it. That usually meant that what she said was a joke. But then he didn't know anymore. The incident yesterday with the second angry woman made him think that they might actually expect him to just drink out of the toilet if he needed water. Whitey was almost thirsty enough to do it. Instead he sat up on the cot and took the sandwich from his pocket. He laid it on his lap like he was having a picnic. He carefully unfolded the wrapper. There was two bites left. Three if he took a small one first. He decided that was the right thing to do. He took a small bite. Put the sandwich back onto the middle of the wrapper. Carefully wrapped it up. Put it back into his pocket. Whitey stood up. He made sure the sandwich was secure. It was. Then he just stood there. Not knowing what to do.

A little while later the pigeons came back. There was five of them now. All standing and bobbing on the window sill. Telling him about what had happened the night before. They said there was a gal that came around to where they were sleeping and fell asleep on a park bench. She had a hot dog she was eating. Can you believe it? The hot dog fell to the ground. Then they all had some tasty bites. And guess what? The gal didn't even wake up! She was still there in the morning. And when they went back to have more tasty bites she yelled at them and got up. She tried to kick them, but they got out of the way. Then she walked away. And guess what? She left the hot dog behind! Whitey was beside himself about this story. It was such good luck for them all. He mimed that he wished he could have seen it. He mimed a question about whether the gal came back or not, looking for the hot dog. The pigeons said they never saw her again. Her loss. Whitey agreed it was her loss. He mimed that he would love to eat a hot dog right now. The pigeons said they tried to save him some but this other group of pigeons came down and chased them off. But it was okay, there would be more hot dogs in the future. They would save him some of those hot dogs. Whitey mimed that that would be nice of them. As he was doing this the door opened. The second angry woman was back. The pigeons flew away. She said:

"What the fuck is it with you? Who the fuck are you talking to? Is there a retarded army I am not seeing?" The second angry woman waited for Whitey to back away. She came into the room and sat a tray on the cot. "Eat this. You have ten minutes. I'll be back." She started to leave. "Oh, make that bed when you are done." She started to leave again. She stopped. "Oh, also, pack your things. HAHAHA" Whitey didn't understand what was happening. The second angry woman left. She slammed the door behind her. She was laughing still. He didn't know what was so funny. He didn't have anything to pack. He decided he meant the sandwich in his pocket. Or maybe the roll of toilet paper. But what was funny about that? He didn't give it much more thought. The second the second angry woman was out of the room, Whitey was trying to open the milk carton. It wasn't going very well. He really wanted a drink of milk. He had to use his teeth to open the carton. He finally got it open. The drink he took was like magic. He felt it all the way down to his toes. He tried to not drink too much, but he drank more than he meant to. He had to force himself to stop. He put the carton on the tray and ate the apple. He ate as much of it that could be eaten. He put the six apple seeds in his pocket. Six this time. Four last time. What was the difference? He wondered. The apple was mostly the same as yesterdays apple. Tasting like sawdust. Or tasting like apple but feeling like sawdust. He thought about an apple with a skin that once broke open it was just sawdust. He took the last two bites of sandwich out of his pocket. Unwrapped it. Ate the last two bites. He adjusted the new sandwich so the egg and cheese were correctly positioned. He put the new sandwich in the middle of the wrapper and carefully wrapped it up. He put it in his pocket He took another drink of milk. It was the best thing he could think of. He really wished he had a gallon of it. He didn't though. He just had a few swallows left. He decided to just go for it. He drank it all. Then he opened the carton and ran his finger around the edges of the inside of the carton. Licking his finger afterwards. Then he put the leftover apple stuff in the carton. He put the tray on the toilet. Looked at it. Decided that was a bad idea. He put it back on the cot. Then he really didn't know what to do. He wanted to make the bed like the second angry woman wanted him to do. But the tray was causing problems. He decided to briefly put the tray on the floor. He would make the bed as fast as possible and then put the tray back on the cot. He did this. Then the bed didn't look right. He had the toilet paper to deal with now as well. He tried to pack it in his other pocket. The one without the sandwich. But the toilet paper roll was too big. He put it on the tray. Adjusted the blanket and the miniature pillow. Again and again and again. Nothing was coming out right. He wasn't very good at making beds. He knew what a made bed looked like, but he didn't know how to do it. He just kept trying and trying. Eventually it kind of look okay. He stood there looking at it. He looked at the tray. The roll of toilet paper. He grabbed the roll of toilet paper. Decided everything was in order. He said out loud:

"Okay. Packed." Then he just stood there. Waiting. He wasn't sure if ten minutes had gone by. He had been too distracted by making the bed to count the seconds. He assumed it was close to ten minutes. He checked his pocket to make sure the new sandwich was there. It was. He wondered where the pigeons had gone off to. He wanted to tell them he was moving. The idea of them coming back when he wasn't there made him sad. He decided to leave them a note. He took an apple seed out of his pocket and kneeled down. He laid out a single sheet of toilet paper and tried to write on the sheet of toilet paper. The seed just tore the paper. He put the seed back into his pocket. He decided to fold the sheet of toilet paper in a way that would let them know he was leaving. He decided they would understand that triangle shape meant he was leaving and they should come looking for him. When he finished he stood on the cot and reached up. He had to grab one of the bars so he could get the note to stay between the bars and the window. He dropped down to the floor. He looked back up at his work. It seemed clear that they would get the message. He turned around and waited for the second angry woman to come back. She came back. She opened the door. Stood there. Looked around. She didn't look as angry as yesterday. She looked very tired. Whitey hadn't seen how she looked before because he was more concerned about the food and the milk. Now that he looked at her he kind of felt bad for her. He forced himself to stop staring. She said:

"Grab that tray." Whitey grabbed the tray. "What are you doing with that toilet paper?"

"You told me to pack, ma'am." The second angry woman lost herself.

"HAHAHA! What are you a mummy?"

"It is all I own, ma'am." The second angry woman suddenly stopped laughing. She didn't look tired anymore. Just extremely angry.

"Let's get something straight, you little turd, you don't own anything around here. You got that? Nothing! Not even a pube on your dick. Not even a fart. Nothing! Everything you think you own belongs to us now. You understand that? Can you put that in your retarded brain?" Whitey didn't know if he needed to answer. "Well?"

"I understand, ma'am."

"Good! I hope so. Now come on." Whitey took a quick look back at the window. The pigeons were back. Looking at his note. They were bobbing their heads. They understood it. Whitey waved at them with the roll of toilet paper. The pigeons waved back in their pigeon way. Whitey followed the second angry woman down the hallway. Watching her very large bottom sway back and forth. Whitey remembered his dream suddenly. He was confused about the feelings he was feeling. The second angry woman's butt swaying back and forth, back and forth. It was hypnotic. He wanted to look away but he couldn't. She stopped suddenly. Whitey ran into her with the tray. The empty milk carton fell to the ground. He bent over to pick it up. The second angry woman backed up at just that moment. Whitey's face went right into her backside. He was overwhelmed with smells. The second angry woman turned around very fast. She yelled:

"What the fuck are you doing! You perverted retard!" A man in uniform came running over.

"What's happening?" He had his hand on his hip. Touching something that wasn't a gun.

"This fucking pervert just tried to goose me!" Whitey was confused. He was half-bent over trying to pick up the empty milk carton.

"Drop it!" Whitey looked up. "I said, drop it!" Whitey dropped the tray and the roll of toilet paper. "Hands on your head!" The man in the uniform came around to the back of Whitey and put him in handcuffs. The man in the uniform had Whitey by the neck now. Whitey's hands were behind his back. He was feeling to the side to make sure his sandwich was still there. The man in the uniform saw this. He started to pat Whitey down. He found the sandwich. "What is this?" The sandwich fell out of the wrapper. Landing on the floor. Whitey felt a very large pang in his stomach. He almost started crying. "A sandwich, eh?" The second angry woman looked down.

"The fucking retard is too stupid to even eat his breakfast."

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Whitey didn't know if he needed to answer the question. And if he did, he didn't know how to answer it. "Well?"

"I don't, I don't even..." The man in the uniform pushed Whitey. He stumbled and then righted himself. The man in uniform pushed Whitey to the plastic chairs he had sat in when he first came to this place. He pushed Whitey down. Whitey sat on his hands. This made the handcuffs fall off. He was small. His wrists were small. He was only thirteen. He tried desperately to get the handcuffs back on. The man in uniform noticed this. He said:

"Oh, trying to break free are we?" The next thing Whitey knew he was in a headlock. Then he was on the floor. Someone screamed. It was either the second angry woman or somebody else in the lobby. The next thing Whitey knew he was sitting down again. This time he had something else binding his hands. His wrists hurt and he was crying. The second angry woman was shouting:

"Oh, shut up you fucking baby! You fucking retard baby! You try and rape me and now you are the victim? I should call the fucking cops!" Whitey looked over at the man in the uniform. The man in the uniform looked at the second angry woman and frowned. Whitey looked back at the second angry woman. She looked like something Whitey had never seen before. Almost unbelievable. Her face was so ugly that Whitey was truly scared. She had spit at the corners of her mouth and her eyes were bulging. She kept thrusting at Whitey. Breathing through her nose. The HHH of her t-shirt coming at him. Then pulling back. Then coming at him. Whitey could see her nipples poking through. This detail confused Whitey so much that he had to look away. Everything was so confusing. He looked over at his sandwich. Broken apart on the floor. The tray and the empty milk carton and the roll of toilet paper. Something broke in Whitey. He lost his hearing. His sense of smell. His sense of taste. Then there was a sound like helicopters flying by and some white flashing lights. Whitey bit his teeth thinking he could stop everything that was happening. Nothing stopped. It just got more intense. He kept hearing the words, Well? Well? Well? And then that was it. Something wet and red and from very far away came out of the sky and knocked Whitey to the ground. The last thing he heard was:

"Holy shit!"