Mickey Mouse and the Crab
By KorskiHe’s lying in bed, groggy, naked, and the room doorbell rings. He rolls out of bed and goes to the door and looks through the peephole and sees someone wearing a Mickey Mouse mask. It’s a good mask, credible. But he doesn’t know what to make of the rest of Mickey, or whatever it is.
He starts to return to bed and Mickey Mouse knocks again. He turns around and yells, What do you want? He goes to the door and opens it and Mickey comes in.
Let’s talk, Mickey says.
About what?
You and me and rivers that are never the same.
Rivers that are never the same? He shakes his head and thinks, Where am I? He scratches the back of his head and turns away and says, I’ve got to put something on.
If you like. It doesn’t matter.
Doesn’t matter?
Mickey Mouse stands near the door and does not move.
Come in and sit down, he says, pointing to a small table.
Mickey now walks straight ahead and steps carefully onto the raised hardwood floor that extends to the window and a view onto a five-story building under construction. He sits in a hardback chair, near a small circular table. In the center of the table is a large glass ashtray and a box of matches. Mickey picks up the box of matches and stares at the picture of a crab on the top of the box. Near the crab are the words: Cancer, and the dates 21 June to 22 July.
He puts on a pair of baggy white and olive shorts that come nearly to his knees. They’re loose and he thinks: I’ve lost weight. Then he briefly stares at the open burn wound on his middle finger. He doesn’t remember how he got it. He says: You want a drink?
Whatever you have. Mickey is staring at the crab, and he is smiling.
You want cognac or a beer?
Whatever you’re drinking.
I had no idea Mickey was so catholic in his tastes.
You had no idea? Who is Mickey Mouse in your mind?
He looks at Mickey’s legs and tries to sex him or her. Sure as hell isn’t you.
You might be surprised to find out who I am when I pull off this mask.
Maybe you better not. I might not like you if you do.
Like has got nothing to do with it. Mickey picks up the match box with the crab on it and the crab comes alive and begins crawling, then zigzagging up Mickey’s arm. When it gets to his mouth, Mickey sticks out his tongue and the crab jumps up on the end of it and Mickey jerks his tongue inside his mouth.
Jesus! I can’t believe my goddamn eyes. Is that the river you’re talking about?
Now you want me to take off the mask?
Shit no! Not now!
Why don’t you call your girlfriend. Ask her if I should take off my mask?
Which one?
How many do you have?
I don’t know. Maybe ten, maybe none.
Will you remember if I take off my mask?
Are you one of them?
You don’t know?
He feels his penis hardening, growing, and he tries to remember if he’s wearing underpants, and if he zipped up his zipper. He’s afraid to look down, afraid at what he might see.
Mickey reaches in his pocket and takes out a cell phone and throws it at him. Call her.
Which one?
That’s for you to decide.
I’m fucked, he thinks. Half a dozen names come to mind. I can’t do it, he says.
Then I’ll take off my mask.
No! He moves his hand down to check his zipper, and he feels not his zipper but his penis, and it’s soft. Oh shit! he thinks.
Mickey opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue. The crab shakes all over, like he’s shaking off something. The crab then runs down his arm and over to the box of matches and disappears inside the crab picture.
He’s watching this, and he can’t believe his eyes, and he feels the hard-on coming on again. He turns to Mickey and begins sizing him or her up, looking for breasts, at the waistline, at the legs. He still has no idea the sex of Mickey. He feels utterly confused, lost.
Mickey says, I’m good, don’t you remember me?
He shakes his head, hasn’t got a clue who Mickey might be. He says, How did you do that with the crab?
What crab?
That crab that came out off the top of that match box and went in your mouth and stayed there and then came out again, and then disappeared.
Are you okay?
He slides his hand down and feels for the zipper. Whew! he thinks. I’ll go for it, he finally says, his voice a little shaky.
Go for it, huh? You will, will you? After all this hesitation, you’ll go for it.
I will.
No matter what, or who I am?
That matters.
But you said you would go for it.
I didn’t mean I’d go for anything or anyone.
Mickey turns and walks toward the table where the match box with the crab on it lies. The crab appears, and smiles, and Mickey picks it up and places it on his tongue. The crab dances, and smiles, and dances some more. Then it crawls down Mickey’s arm and heads for home. Mickey now slowly walks toward the wall of glass. And he walks right through it without breaking it. Then he’s gone. There’s no sight of him anywhere.
He stares in disbelief. His eyes move to the table and he sees the crab coming toward him. As it gets closer it grows in size. It gets larger and larger, and he wonders why he has such a strong preference for women who are Cancers. A fact he never learns until after he has been to bed with them.
Stickman's thoughts:
.
The author can be reached at korski1@cox.net
The author of this website, NOT this article, can be contacted at: stickmanbangkok@gmail.com.
