Read Online Onion Songs by Steve Rasnic Tem - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steve Rasnic Tem
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lips, but he was unable to stop them.
FATHER : We never have sex. We never talk. We never go outside. We never kiss. We never hold. We never hold. We never hold. We never have sex.
He looked around wide-eyed as if addressing the entire Family with this speech.
Sister tried to move away from him, stared out the window, tried to move away from him, but could not, so she cried.
SISTER : You mean me! You mean us! We never have sex. We never have sex.
Brother tried to move closer to Father. He tried to raise his enormous hands. But his hands were too full of anger to be lifted above his waist. His enormous hands could only become enormous fists, which hung low below his waist at the ends of his long arms, swinging back and forth like great pendulums. His enormous hands would not lift and then his enormous feet would not move him closer to Father. He could only lean toward Father with anger.
BROTHER : Or me! Or me? We never have sex. We never have sex.
And Brother stared at Sister with his mouth open and Sister cried and Father continued to sweat giant gray snails of sweat that oozed slowly down his forehead as he tried to look somewhere, anywhere but at his Family.
And Mother sucked the blood slowly, greedily from his giant, wounded finger.
They stood there transfixed like this, my Family, floating on Archetype and full of swollen id now threatening to burst their skin and pull apart the joints and seams of their body as inside them they were made simple, their hungers simplified to basics, their minds simplified to central swollen images of need, pleasure, and pain.
Mother let the bleeding finger fall from her huge mouth, the finger now pale, limp, and bloodless, sucked on her lips to clean them of dried residue, and in a cracked voice, which gradually became more and more full-bodied, she spoke.
MOTHER : You thought you could fool me. You thought you could all fool me. Now see what happens. Now see what happens. The trouble you’ve made. Standing there, barely able to move. But maybe it was for the best. The best place for you is in my parlor. See what happens. You made me the house and the heart of the house. You made me the mountains and you made me the sea. You made me everything and you made me immortal. I am filled with the life of my Family and I hold it dear. What you have made me! There will be sex. There will always be sex. In the Family there are many openings into the body. There are many openings into the Family. There are many ways to be fed and you all will be fed. You will all have sex and you will be fed.
At that point the Mother began feeding me, and in my smallness her breast was enormous, and filled me with sickness and dread.
The Father tried to look down at me and vertigo almost made him fall. Brother looked at me and smiled, but then he too began to weave on his enormous legs. Sister took one look at me and scowled.
I could not see Mother ’s face because of the size of her breast hanging over me. I could not see her mouth and it frightened me. Her teeth were so sharp!
For I am the Baby and in their way they all resent me. They think I get all the sex and I get all the food and in some ways I think they are right.
I do know they fed me too much Archetype for my size and now what is growing inside of me, pushing against the inner walls of my skin, may some day make me explode. I am filled with shadows, wishes, fears, and dreams.
But for now I feed from Mother ’s breast and I grow larger inside as well as outside. I realize Archetype has gotten into her milk supply but my vocal chords are too clumsy for me to tell them this.
So I must starve or I must grow larger inside. My choice is obvious. Babies are too young to commit reality. Even the other members of the Family here have been unsuccessful at this—Mother has too much power over them and they cannot break away.
So I feed at her nipple and I try not to think of anything else. Mother coaxes the other members of the Family to her
FATHER : We never have sex. We never talk. We never go outside. We never kiss. We never hold. We never hold. We never hold. We never have sex.
He looked around wide-eyed as if addressing the entire Family with this speech.
Sister tried to move away from him, stared out the window, tried to move away from him, but could not, so she cried.
SISTER : You mean me! You mean us! We never have sex. We never have sex.
Brother tried to move closer to Father. He tried to raise his enormous hands. But his hands were too full of anger to be lifted above his waist. His enormous hands could only become enormous fists, which hung low below his waist at the ends of his long arms, swinging back and forth like great pendulums. His enormous hands would not lift and then his enormous feet would not move him closer to Father. He could only lean toward Father with anger.
BROTHER : Or me! Or me? We never have sex. We never have sex.
And Brother stared at Sister with his mouth open and Sister cried and Father continued to sweat giant gray snails of sweat that oozed slowly down his forehead as he tried to look somewhere, anywhere but at his Family.
And Mother sucked the blood slowly, greedily from his giant, wounded finger.
They stood there transfixed like this, my Family, floating on Archetype and full of swollen id now threatening to burst their skin and pull apart the joints and seams of their body as inside them they were made simple, their hungers simplified to basics, their minds simplified to central swollen images of need, pleasure, and pain.
Mother let the bleeding finger fall from her huge mouth, the finger now pale, limp, and bloodless, sucked on her lips to clean them of dried residue, and in a cracked voice, which gradually became more and more full-bodied, she spoke.
MOTHER : You thought you could fool me. You thought you could all fool me. Now see what happens. Now see what happens. The trouble you’ve made. Standing there, barely able to move. But maybe it was for the best. The best place for you is in my parlor. See what happens. You made me the house and the heart of the house. You made me the mountains and you made me the sea. You made me everything and you made me immortal. I am filled with the life of my Family and I hold it dear. What you have made me! There will be sex. There will always be sex. In the Family there are many openings into the body. There are many openings into the Family. There are many ways to be fed and you all will be fed. You will all have sex and you will be fed.
At that point the Mother began feeding me, and in my smallness her breast was enormous, and filled me with sickness and dread.
The Father tried to look down at me and vertigo almost made him fall. Brother looked at me and smiled, but then he too began to weave on his enormous legs. Sister took one look at me and scowled.
I could not see Mother ’s face because of the size of her breast hanging over me. I could not see her mouth and it frightened me. Her teeth were so sharp!
For I am the Baby and in their way they all resent me. They think I get all the sex and I get all the food and in some ways I think they are right.
I do know they fed me too much Archetype for my size and now what is growing inside of me, pushing against the inner walls of my skin, may some day make me explode. I am filled with shadows, wishes, fears, and dreams.
But for now I feed from Mother ’s breast and I grow larger inside as well as outside. I realize Archetype has gotten into her milk supply but my vocal chords are too clumsy for me to tell them this.
So I must starve or I must grow larger inside. My choice is obvious. Babies are too young to commit reality. Even the other members of the Family here have been unsuccessful at this—Mother has too much power over them and they cannot break away.
So I feed at her nipple and I try not to think of anything else. Mother coaxes the other members of the Family to her
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