Deluded Love

This tale tells of a delusional woman possessed with passion, and a squeemish man in need of therapy.

When Ash awoke, he found himself lolling in his famous ‘pass-out chair.’  Jaune was standing before him with her arms crossed, and her foot pumping the ground as though it was a gas pedal. Ash’s memory returned to him upon seeing the man who was standing next to her.  This man’s name was Fernando Fernidand. His eyebrows were furrowed in genuine confusion. Ash had been probing the man for information about his deceased aunt. The man had seemed extremely anxious and had been fidgeting uncomfortably with the cracked skin around his nails. At one point during the arrangement, Fernando peeled back a hangnail, allowing a steady flow of blood to pool in around the crevice of his nail bed. This is when Ash had blacked out.  Upon this realization, Ash groaned and covered his eyes in embarrassment. He, a funeral director, had passed out at the sight of a bloody hang nail! His hemophobia was truly out of control. 

“I apologize, Mr. Fernidand,” Ash began, noting the stained bandage around the man’s grubby finger. He took a deep breath before continuing.  “I, uh, must have been dehydrated,” he lied.  Jaune rolled her eyes in response to Ash’s explanation.  Fernando just nodded; his face was bare of all emotion.

“I’ll come back,” said the man. His voice was quiet and tainted with hopelessness. Before walking the man to the door, Jaune gave Ash her famous ‘I ain’t done with you’ look. 

Jaune returned with Terence, who was clearly not amused. His jacket, still on him, was balled in her hand. Once plopped in front of the blushing Ash, Terence managed to pull himself away from the woman’s uncanny clutch.

“Jaune, what is the meaning of this!?” Terence demanded. “You had better have a good reason for assaulting your employer!”  He smoothed out his jacket and waited, looking from Ash to Jaune.  Jaune stood next to Ash’s ‘pass out’ chair, her hand resting on his shoulder.

“Your man, Wilson, here had a fainting spell during an arrangement! He witnessed the informant pick a bloody hangnail!”  She explained. Terence’s expression was unchanging.

“Of course Wilson did!” he sighed. “What do you want me to do about it?! Hypnotize him!”

“You stupid man!” Jaune screamed.  “Of course I don’t!  I want you to give Wilson some time off so he can be treated professionally!”  Ash raised his hand just then. He felt it necessary to inform Jaune and Terence that he was, in fact, still in the room.  Jaune pulled a card from her pocket and placed it in Ash’s lap. The card belonged to a therapist named Mr. Quincy Gibbs.

“Wait a minute.” Terence plucked the card from his coworker’s lap. “You can’t be serious!” he exclaimed. “Quincy Gibbs is a holistic hypnotherapist.”

“What does that mean?” Ash asked.

“It means he’s a fraudulent worm who will rob you of your every penny and leave you worse off than you were to begin with,” Terence answered, tossing the card into a nearby trash can.  “His practices have no scientific basis and are, therefore, null and void.”  Jaune raised her eyebrows and pointed her index finger at Ash threateningly. “You see that Gibbs character―understand?  I don’t care what this paranoid clown says, you gonna see him!” Before leaving, Jaune shot Terence a murderous stare. The woman’s eyes were venomous, like snakes.  Terence let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sometimes I get the feeling I’m just a puppet!” he said to no one in particular. Then turning to Ash he said, “ Consider the rest of this week your therapy vacation!”

Much to Terence’s chagrin, the phone rang after Ash had left.  It was the grade four elementary school teacher from Hanes Elementary School in St. Louis du HA! HA! The teacher’s voice was so high it pained Terence to listen to her.

“Is this Mr. Coon? Oh dear, oh my! My name is Treacle Sunshine. I’m the grade four teacher here at Hanes Elementary.  The children’s gerbil was found dead this morning in his cage! We think the poor creature had a heart attack! The children took a vote. They want to give him a funeral,” peeped the shrill teacher.  Terence winced, grinding his teeth; the lady’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard! How could any child tolerate listening to her lecture all day!  “Hello? Mr. Coon? Am I correct in stating that you do pet funerals?” Terence took a seat in his office and closed his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered. The last thing Terence wanted to do was enter an elementary school classroom.  Those buildings were designed for the munchkins who attended them, not for human giraffes like Terence! That, and they were likely stippled with disease particulates. Terence shivered at the thought of greasy fingerprints on window panes.  Windows were perfect canvases for children to paint finger portraits with their own slime. Terence shuffled away from the window in his own office. He was going to have to come up with an excuse.

“Listen, Mrs. Sunshine―”

                “It’s Miss Sunshine, actually.”

                “Oh. I’m not sure this situation really poses a need for a trained funeral director to―” There was a knock on Terence’s door just then. It was Jaune. Terence placed Miss Sunshine on hold and opened the door.

                “What do you want, Jaune?” Terence groaned, annoyed. The woman folded her arms and wrinkled her forehead. Did she want Terence to guess at the reason for her untimely presence? “You’re here for the sole purpose of interrupting me,” he estimated. Jaune shook her head. The way her springy black hair shot out in all directions reminded Terence of fireworks. She herself was a firework; explosively animated.

                “You gonna help those kids, you understand!” Terence narrowed his eyes at the woman. She had been listening in on his conversation?! Jaune admitted she was eavesdropping as though she was proud of it.  “You always turn everyone down!” she declared. “And for the silliest reasons! The community already thinks your crackers! Prove them wrong and help these kids! I don’t care if their gerbil died! Death is death. You’re going and that’s that!”

                It was official. Terence was a puppet. He didn’t know why he continued to do as the infernal woman, Jaune told him.  Behind her antagonistic tone was always a hint of reason. Jaune was right about one thing; the community did think Terence was bonkers. Sometimes they had Terence wondering himself. She had also been right about Ash. The man couldn’t do his job properly if his mind was plagued by images of blood. Still, Terence would have preferred that Ash had stayed just a pinch longer  to plan the gerbil funeral.

Terence couldn’t help but scoff as he walked by the many displays of paper mache volcanoes and wilted dandelion chains; there truly was nothing new under the sun. His scalp twinged as he could feel the static attraction of his hair to the ceiling tiles. The secretary had told him that Miss Sunshine’s classroom was straight down the hallway to the left, next to the boy’s washroom, which was likely festering with Legionella pneumophilia bacteria. Terence held his breath walking by the open door of the washroom. He knocked on Miss Sunshine’s door, conveniently plastered with smiling suns―although Terence could have sworn some of the suns appeared slightly demonic.

                “Mr. Coon!” A wrinkled raisin of a woman greeted Terence. She smelled of a dinosaur exhibit  Terence visited only several weeks ago. Terence also noted that the woman’s pants were pulled high above her waist. The thick leather belt that held them up was a remarkably efficient shelf for her sagging bosoms. “It’s the children’s reading time,” she informed him. Terence ducked into the classroom. The children were doing everything but reading. One rather disheveled lad was playing a gaming device behind a large  encyclopedia, which was carelessly propped upside down. A girl with prominent pigtails was scribbling messages to another girl, and a chubby boy, who was seated in the corner, was using a pair of scissors to carve obscenities into the paint on the interior of his desk.

                “How very charming,” Terence grumbled under his breath.  He followed Miss Sunshine to the front of the class.

                She clapped twice and said, “Okay, children, reading time is over now! I’d like you all to meet the man who will be helping with Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo’s funeral, Mr. Coon! Everyone say hello, Mr. Coon!” Terence was welcomed by a plethora of unenthusiastic hellos. A boy with an odd birthmark on the side of his face, shot up his hand.

                “Do you touch dead people?” he asked. Miss Sunshine appeared agitated by the boy’s inquiry.

                “Aksel!” she exclaimed in disgust, “in this classroom, we do not ask such derogatory questions!” Terence was in the dark as to what made the question derogatory.

                “Yes, I do,” Terence answered, honestly. He started to explain the process of embalming to the children when Miss Sunshine cut him off.

                “As you can see, everyone, Mr. Coon is very skilled in his profession and will be able to help us say good-bye to Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo.” The bell for recess rang, and the room cleared faster than an intervascular discolouration on a body during arterial injection.

                “Miss Sunshine, why did you stop me from explaining the process of embalming to your students?” Terence probed.  “By doing so you’ve deprived them of a valuable learning experience.” Miss Sunshine chuckled and told Terence that children their age weren’t mature enough to handle the information. Terence didn’t understand, and, naturally, chose to continue his line of inquiry.

“I disagree, Miss Sunshine. Your students are nearing puberty. If they are old enough to be taught about the physical changes that accompany sexual maturation, surely they are old enough to be taught about the physical changes that accompany death.” Oddly enough, Terence’s argument only made Miss Sunshine chuckle harder.

                “Sex! An old woman like me wouldn’t know anything about that, now would she? Why don’t I fetch poor Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo from his cage.” Miss Sunshine winked at Terence before awkwardly brushing past him. Terence didn’t know why she had winked; perhaps there had been something in her eye.

                When the children returned, Terence had the gerbil naturally positioned in an empty shoebox, which the children had haphazardly decorated.

                “So, boys and girls, what you’re going to do is come up one by one and place your memento into Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo’s casket,” Miss Sunshine instructed, once everyone was seated.

                “Pardon me,” Terence interrupted, “but I do believe we should determine the manner of disposition first.” He turned toward the students. “A water and sky burial are impossible, I’m afraid. Therefore, your pet may be cremated and scattered, or simply buried beneath the earth.” One kid asked what the word ‘cremated’ meant. Terence began to explain the process of cremation, but was, once again, stopped by Miss Sunshine.

                “Now, children,” she began, “although Mr. Coon means well, we cannot burn poor Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo. Playing with fire is naughty and dangerous. Besides, we haven’t any matches.” Terence immediately objected to what Miss Sunshine was saying.

                “In this case, I would say a cremation is most convenient,” Terence stated. “The weather is neither dry nor windy today. The chance of the fire growing out of control is highly improbable. The ground is covered in melting snow and will be sodden and muddy. I don’t have a shovel with me, and although there appears to be no matches, I have a sneaking suspicion you own a lighter, Miss Sunshine.” Miss Sunshine flushed red and giggled, nervously.

                “Why, Mr. Coon, why would an innocent school teacher carry a lighter in her classroom?” Terence placed his hands in his pockets and sighed. Miss Sunshine was dull for a seemingly educated woman.

                “You smell strongly of smoke, and have skin like unkempt leather. I don’t smoke, but I’m sure the habit is impossible to maintain without some means of lighting your cigarettes,” Terence declared. A number of students giggled and soon they were all in each other’s ears, whispering and flashing their little eyes at Miss Sunshine.

                “Very well.” Miss Sunshine opened a drawer and pulled out a lighter. “Is that really what you children want? You want to burn Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo?” Miss Sunshine pouted. The children roared in affirmation, throwing their hands up in excitement. Terence smiled at the children’s enthusiasm. He had no idea he was so good with kids.

                With permission from the school principal, the excited children bounced wildly out the door to watch the cremation of Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo.  Terence waited until the hollering and hooting diverged into the hallway before proceeding behind.  While exiting the room, Terence couldn’t help but notice an odd substance in the gerbil’s cage. Amongst the wood shavings and plastic tubes, were oddly shaped, blue pellets. Terence could have sworn he’s seen them before. Where, unfortunately, he could not recall.

                The sky was a murky gray and the air was stagnant. The children were gathered at the far end of the soccer field, by a weed infested gully.  A boy named Gregors cradled the gerbil’s casket with tears in his eyes.

                “Now children,” huffed Miss Sunshine as she wheezed her way into the group of students, “why don’t you all say a little something about Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo before you let Mr. Coon and I take care of the cremation.” Gregors’ lips trembled as he murmured good-bye to the gerbil.  Terence approached the trembling child and plucked the rodent’s wrapped corpse from the shoebox.

                “Hold him,” he instructed the child. Gregors looked up at him with eyes wide as moons. Miss Sunshine gasped in horror as Terence placed the furry nugget-like creature into the boys outstretched palms.

                “Mr. Coon! That can’t be sanitary!” she exclaimed. Terence stifled the urge to wring the woman’s shriveled neck.

                “For God’s sake! They’re children! Children aren’t sanitary to begin with! Touching dead animals is what childhood’s all about!” Terence snapped. “No offense,” he added, upon noting the students’ stunned expressions.

                “Dude’s gotta point,” a freckled boy said. The kids all took turns holding Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo and saying their good-byes. When they were done, they crossed their legs on the turf, and watched intently as Terence repositioned the gerbil in its casket and flicked the lighter. The students had elevated the shoe box so that it sat on a  number of flat stones they had recovered from the gully.  The light of the flame illuminated their plump faces, and the earth seemed to vibrate with their fascinated sighs. Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo’s skin bubbled; the gerbil’s corpse folded in on itself like an oozing marshmallow. Still, the children sighed in awe.

                The smell of burnt fur tainted the light breeze, which, despite its lack of force, was cold enough to nip the nape of Terence’s neck. He neared the scorching rodent merely for the warmth. The children, too, were shivering on the damp ground. Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo was now nothing but a crunchy, blackened flake of splintered bone. The sight of the skeleton gave Terence an odd feeling; it was as though his subconscious mind was trying to remind him of something. Then it came to him. Like a strike of lightening the word ‘d-con’ flashed in his mind. It was a brand of rodent poison. Only a few nights ago, Terence had been reading by his fireplace, when his clever cat, Anubis, pawed the remote and turned on the television. She never could resist doing so when Terence was immersed in something other than her affection. Terence had been so startled by the sudden light and sound, that he had dropped his book. Anubis, having accomplished her mission, had then leapt into his lap for a snooze and a cuddle. The newscast blazing from Terence’s television screen turned out to be rather engrossing. The air brushed news lady with unnaturally pearly teeth announced that a restaurant known as ‘Chef Jeff’s’ had been struggling financially and had been caught by the Minister of Health for using the corpses of rats and mice to make their famous hamburger pie. The news cast depicted a shot of the greasy, unkempt ‘Chef Jeff’ admitting his culinary sin.

                “Our business was crashing and we were experiencing a problem with the rats. We didn’t have the money for an exterminator. We were in a desperate situation. Yes, we used rats in our food! But we didn’t think it would hurt people if they didn’t know,” retold the chef.  The chef couldn’t have been more erroneous in his assumption. He had been using a rodent poison called d-con to intoxicate the vermin. The drug came in the form of small blue pellets; pellets that the rodents would mistake for food. The scandal of Chef Jeff’s was discovered when one customer fell fatally ill after consuming a hearty portion of the hamburger pie. The d-con in the system of the rats had been transferred over to an innocent man with bad taste in cuisine.

                A hand brushed against Terence’s back. The hair at the base of his neck prickled and he spun around to find himself intimately close with the puckered face of Miss Sunshine. Terence swallowed as he noticed the absence of the children. Miss Sunshine must have instructed them to file on back into the school while Terence had been immersed in his flashback.

                “Looks like I finally have you all to myself!” Miss Sunshine squealed. She placed her dry, claw-like fingers around his waist. Terence was so disgusted by the woman’s advances, he had to stifle the urge to vomit. “I saw you in the newspaper last week,” the grotesque woman continued in her sickeningly sweet voice, “you were standing next to one of your sculpture exhibits at the St. Louis Art Centre. How tall you are compared to everyone else in that photo.” Terence pried the woman’s talons from his waist. His cheeks flushed with anger as the realization of the whole encounter settled upon him.

                “You used d-con to kill your students’ gerbil just to get to me!” His voice was quiet and trembled in the wind. “GOOD GOD!!!” The realization absolutely horrified him. Miss Sunshine pouted; the expression created pouches of wrinkles around the corners of her mouth.

                “I thought you’d be flattered,” she whined. The woman was completely delusional.

                “Stay away from me, Miss Sunshine! You’re not well!!” Terence shouted. He whipped out his phone and dialed the police.

                When Terence explained to the police the disturbing details of Miss Sunshine’s recent actions, they immediately took her into their care.  Terence watched as the frail woman sucked on a cigarette nervously in the back seat of the car. Her eyes were raw and staring and her paper-thin lips opened and closed as she muttered incoherently to herself. The police notified the principal and children  of Miss Sunshine’s condition. Terence was not surprised to find that the children were less shocked by the news of their teacher’s senility than the principal. A much better qualified teacher was found to replace Miss Sunshine. Although the incident had resolved itself, Terence left the school feeling chilled to the bone. His mere existence had caused the death of an innocent class pet. Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo had been but a martyr of deluded love―then again, wasn’t all love deluded? Terence, of course, did not feel responsible for the rodent’s demise; the murder was on Miss Sunshine’s conscience, not his.  Terence had known the woman was insane the moment she had demonstrated her attraction toward him. No sane individual could fall that head over heels for a spindly, pale giant like himself. As he pulled into the Amigone lot, Terence found himself sighing incessantly. It was a sorrowful sound, and he had no idea why he continued to make it. 

                The week passed, and, come Monday, Ash was back proclaiming he had been cured. Jaune laughed in triumph and bundled the man into what looked to be a painfully tight embrace.  Then, her blasted dagger of a finger was in Terence’s face, poking and jabbing him boastfully. Terence didn’t believe Ash was cured for a second.

                “Wilson, I’d like to see you in my office immediately,” he demanded. “And you,” he sucked in his cheeks and turned his head sharply in Jaune’s direction, “you’re coming too.” As they made their way up the steps, Jaune’s eyes rolled so much, Terence wondered how she could even walk straight.

                “Terence, I swear, if you give us one more story about purposeful misprints in the newspapers or men in funny hats following you, I will have you hypnotized!” Jaune threatened.

                “Have some respect, woman! The way you treat me, you’re lucky I keep you around!” That hushed Jaune. Her expression grew still and she motioned for Terence to continue. “ You say you’re cured, Wilson?” Ash nodded.

                “Yes. I went to Mr. Gibbs everyday.  He put me under some sort of hypnotic trance for an hour and then showed me a series of new, gruesome pictures to see how I reacted. By the end of the week, none of the images phased me.” 

                “Mmm-hmm,” Terence hummed, trifling through the papers in his desk in search of his compass and geometry set. “So you think.” He removed his geometry compass and pricked his finger with the sharp tip. He showed the bead of blood to Ash, who, upon witnessing it, broke into a fit of laughter.  Jaune’s open-mouthed expression of shock almost convinced Terence to join him.

                “What the hell does he find so funny?!” she exclaimed.

                “Blood,” Terence answered, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He too began to laugh. Jaune growled in frustration.

                “I’m working in a bloody mad house!!” Her use of the word ‘bloody’ caused Ash to become so weak with laughter, he fell to the ground, body contorting as he giggled manically. When he finally came to his senses, he stood, smiling proudly at both Jaune and Terence.

                “What did I tell you!” he said, completely unaware of the last ten minutes he had spent rolling on the ground. “I’m completely cured! Though, I must say, I feel like I’ve just done a million ab crunches.” Confused, Ash pressed a palm to his aching navel. Now Terence was the one laughing relentlessly.

                “That’s because you nearly  asphyxiated yourself laughing!” he explained. “Oh, this is rich! Now, instead of fainting at the sight of blood you cackle like a lunatic!” Ash stood mortified.

                “Why don’t I have any memory of laughing?”

                “Because you’ve been hypnotized!” Jaune rolled up her sleeves and took Ash by the arm.  She was not pleased. “I will not have you  hooting away like that every time you see a speck of blood! Families will think you’re deluded! That’s it!! We’re goin back to this Gibbs character. If he refuses to set you straight, Imma drop kick his a*s!” Terence made certain not to stand in Jaune’s way.

                Sure enough, Ash was back to his normal hemophobic self the next day.

 

THE END

Author's Note

Let me know what you think!

Reviews

[Taylor_McCutcheon]

Poor Mr. Cuddle Poo Poo lol This had me cracking up and I enjoyed your characters. I didn't see any grammar or spelling issues. Great job :)

[Woody]

just as I expected. as good as the one of the fat corpse. the dialogues flow smoothly and plenty of laughs all along. very funny indeed. well done.

[Margo Seuss]

Thanks so much! I'm so glad someone read this story! I have pleanty more for you to enjoy! If you'd like you can check out my book Tale of the Three Morticians. It contains the same characters, only with a few added wack jobs and crazy shenanigans!