He heard a screech and felt as if he survived a minor heart-attack. He knew it was nothing serious, just another screech from his mother. For a normal civilian, it might sound like a death rattle but for him it was every morning’s ritual, his mother’s screeches, his father’s cracking stuttering curses and swear-words accompanied with occasional sound effects of moaning, slapping and crying, those were his morning greetings, first sound waves landing on his eardrums every morning, his usual great morning. He could never picture in his head, this scene where a father, quietly, sitting and reading a morning newspaper and a mother gently greeting ‘Good-morning’ and serving breakfast. He tried to hide his face and head while using his limp hands, eyes struggling with the departing sleep, nothing seemed to work. He stood up and sat like Buddha on his single uncomfortably-hard bed. For a long time he stared at the empty wall opposite him, a wrinkled faded-green wall with a big misshapen off-white spot on the top-right corner. He loved looking at this empty wall, this is the first thing he did every morning with the background score provided by his mother and father. He thought that he noticed something different on the wall this morning, may be this empty wall’s wrinkles have changed, or if he could focus more he might be able to look at a face with no nose, or may be with a little more effort he might be able to see thousand eyes looking at him from this wall or perhaps a painting of Goya. He heard another screech sound with a hard thump, which came from the room next to his which distracted him and broke his concentration. He stood up and went to the kitchen which looked like a Turkish ruin made of used utensils and scattered vegetable peelings. With a straight blank face, he looked for the biggest sharpest kitchen knife. He found it in the bowl which had last night’s tomato soup and lots of dead bodies of various breeds of insects floating on the surface. He didn’t like the idea of germs and contamination, he was very hygiene-friendly so he washed the knife with utter care. He used the bottom corner of his gray t-shirt to dry the knife.
He went inside the other room where his parents were discussing ‘daily chores’ in their own style. He stood beside the dressing table and watched his parents arguing, his mother was on the verge of punching his father’s face, with a hard facial expression and tight right fist and his father with clenched teeth, waving his right arm in the air while spewing out the most innovative never-heard-before swear words. His father had a penchant of inventing most spectacularly awful curses and he always envied this talent, which he never inherited from his father. His mother on the other hand was the queen of sarcasm and loathing and they always complimented each other, a great love-story written by shagged and fagged and doped out Lucifer. He was standing there with his long kitchen knife in his right hand while scratching his shoulder from the left hand. His father said something to his mother which he missed, when he was scratching his back, and in response to that his mother punched his father twice, first on the neck, second on the nose, target achieved. His father did nothing for few seconds then he slapped his mother twice and tried to invent another swear-word. He came close to both of his parents, they didn’t notice him and ignored his presence. With a straight face and sleepy eyes and full force he moved his right hand in an unknown direction in the air, right hand which was holding the long sharpest kitchen knife. In fraction of seconds, voices stopped, screeches stopped, slapping & punching stopped, he yawned again. Now, in front of him, on the big double bed, their two bodies, heads separated, were lying in front of him. He picked his mother’s head first, she looked gorgeous, he loved his mother more than his father, and went to the refrigerator which was in the kitchen, he put her head in the freezer and came back. He looked at his father’s head now, he was confused, there was no place left in the freezer and, also he was thinking, his father had refused to buy him the mountain ranger bike on his last birthday, he loved his father alright but from his last birthday there was a steep decline in the love-graph. He had to do a lot of thinking in his head before deciding that he would place his father’s head alongside his mother’s. It tired him to make adjustments in the stuffy fridge to fit his father’s head beside his mother’s, he had to move the chocolate ice-cream box down in the normal temperature compartment which was a huge sacrifice, he hated doing that, he hated molten ice-creams, they disgusted him. Somehow he finished this gruesome task and came back in the room with headless bodies. He felt sleepy again but he thought it will be called ‘a disrespecting gesture’ to leave his parents’ bodies like that. He started chopping them in small rectangular shaped pieces, their bodies were blood-less, they were not like those messy bodies which you see in gore movies, they looked and felt like cheese. He remembered how he helped his mother in chopping cheese on his last birthday when she was preparing some dish, it felt exactly the same. Within one hour he was done with the bodies. He neatly picked each and every piece and filled five big pickle jars which were lying useless in the kitchen. After putting the jars on the top rack of the kitchen, he came back in his room. He was exhausted from whatever he did, he yawned thrice and slept while looking at that off-white spot which changed its shape again on the opposite wall.
He felt as if someone was gently petting his head, he was sleepy, so he didn’t open his eyes, he knew whose hand that was. Then he heard a sweet voice, asking him if he would prefer a cheese sandwich for the breakfast along with hot chocolate. In an incomprehensible language, he said yes he would like to have cheese sandwich for the breakfast. He opened his eyes and he saw his father hidden behind a big ugly newspaper, occasionally turning the pages. His mother appeared from the kitchen with the cheese sandwich and gave him a mild kiss on his forehead. He said to himself how much he loved his mother and father and ate his cheese sandwich.