Just one little pill

by Claire

Just one little pill.

Tiny blue thing with some kind of printed symbol on it.

“Go on. It won’t hurt. It’s the best feeling”

So many times I said no.

Just say no.

BBC Children’s TV from the 1970’s.

My happy place.

I wasn’t in a happy place so much these days.

Just one little pill.

At first nothing happened. I sat on the grass and looked around me and all was as usual. I shut my eyes and listened to the chatter and laughing.

I felt warm in the garden, stuff smelt good.

Something soft brushed against my nose.

When I opened my eyes Orinocho was sat in front of me, his great fluffy face just inches away from mine.

“Nice hat” I said.

Nice red hat and red scarf.

Red hat and no knickers.

That’s what my mum always said about Aunty Barbara.

“ She’s no better than she ought to be, she’s all red hat and no knickers”.

I asked Orinicho if he had any knickers. He stood up and turned slowly around.

Not only did he have no knickers, he had no bum.

That is to say no bum hole.

I knew that not having an asshole was dangerous. What would happen to all the digested materials, where would it go? He would surely explode.

I was crying,

There were big floppy tears, like huge jelly beans.

I have never felt as sad in my whole life, so worried was I about Orinicho. I knew I had let him down. I had stopped being his friend sometime around 1976.

So bloody hot!

I was frightened that he was bound to die from peritonitis, infected internal fluff or a huge gaseous explosion.

Farts are funny.

I thought that if only I could tear the stitching where his bum hole should be I could save him from a terrible fate.

All the bad stuff would be able to come out.

No one needs to be without a bottom.

Bad stuff has to be evacuated.

I threw myself at Orinicho and knocked him to the ground, clawing at his behind in desperation.

Next came the darkness, just a deep deep black and the sense of oozing and catastophe where my head should be.

For a very long time, probably about 25 years, I floated just a little way above the lawn.

Not 25 years.

25 seconds.

It all felt the same.

I opened my eyes.

Standing over me was Jaime.

My friend Jaime, the one who had given me the little blue pill.

In her hands was a garden rake, with just a little bit of blood on the handle.

Nice red blood.

She was smiling at me as she turned to leave.

The seam on the back of skirt was torn.

Phew, I saved her.

Everyone needs a bum hole.

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