Fried Brains

“Did you tell Harry?”

“Did I tell Harry.”

“You said you would Sean. You’ve had plenty of time.”

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

“Hm?”

“Sean!”

“What?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

“Is that what this is?”

“Sean. I swear to god if you don’t put that book down—”

“Hold on…”

“You’re disgusting. Do you know that?”

“Oh Lord.”

“What? What is it?”

“You’ve never disemboweled a person have you?”

“What! You’re rotting your brain Sean—now put that down—”

“Rotting my brain. Harry wanted me to read this you know. Besides…”

“Besides what? Sean. Besides what?”

“Oh!”

“What happened?”

“Speaking of rotting brains—good god I think they’re planning on eating it.”

“What!”

“I said eating it. Chopping it up into little pieces. Probably so they don’t have to chew too hard… Yes! It looks like—oh wait I think they’re going to fry it up first. Interesting. For the flavour I’d guess. Or the juices. I wonder what the texture would be like—there’s no point taking some random author’s word for it. You can bet they’ve never tried it.”

“Hmm. Well… I have. You know?”

“You’ve what.”

“Eaten—fried… brains.”

“I bet you have.”

“Sean—for crying out loud! I was just trying to get your attention! Don’t you know I’m trying to talk to you?”

“You sure are.”

“Do you have any idea how horrible you are?”

“How horrible?”

“I’ve asked you for weeks to talk to your brother and all you do is tell me I’m going to give myself a heart attack for worrying or you just hang up on me. It’s just awful. Imagine you were Harry and your horrible older brother cared more about… Well that’s just it! I have no idea what keeps you too occupied to make a simple phone call—”

“Phone call? I thought I had to tell him in person.”

“Oh! Is that what’s been stopping you?”

“I hate it when you snort like that.”

“Do you? I’m so sorry. I’ll try to find a different son to replace you with—one whose stupidity doesn’t make me snort with laughter.”

“Stupidity huh?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not the stupidest person you know.”

“You first.”

“Think of Harry if you won’t think of me.”

“Harry has no idea I have anything to talk to him about so I don’t think it’s much of a pain waiting for something he doesn’t know he’s waiting for.”

“And as soon as you tell him and he finds out you hadn’t told him as soon as you could have he’s going to hate you more than—”

“He hates you?”

“Oh I miss that boy.”

“He’s turning thirty you know.”

“Of course I know.”

“Sure you did.”

“Of course I know how old my baby is and how old he’s turning next. You—”

“Well shit! That takes the fucking cake.”

“Sean if you don’t put that book down in the next ten seconds then go straight to the bathroom and wash your filthy mouth I’m going to rip out every single page and soak them in your cold coffee and roll them into balls and throw them at you across the table as hard as I possibly can like their snowballs made of ice shards—”

“It’s almost absurd. Well not almost. This is really the most ridiculous… They only cut out a section of his brain—so apparently he’s still living somehow and they’re trying to feed his own fried cut up brain to him and he’s practically having a stroke and basically has no more motor skills so he can’t properly close his mouth or push them the fuck away—”

“What did he ever do to you?”

“Huh?”

“What did poor little Harry ever do to you to make you pay him back like this? Why Harry? Why that sweet little boy?”

“We’re still talking about your thirty-year-old baby right?”

“We? You’re sick Sean I hope you know that. I’m talking about him. I am. You’re just…”

“Hey here’s a thought…”

“What? Sean? For god’s sake—hello? Are you still in there? Where are you?”

“Oh no. Are you going blind already? I thought you just got a new prescription.”

“What’s your thought Sean? Your singular thought? What is it?”

“Oh… Wow. You know what? I might be sick.”

“You and me both.”

“I really thought I’d make it to the end. I mean I’ve made it this far but… Goddamn I seriously might end up having nightmares. For the first time since—”

“Remember when you gave Harry nightmares? For a month?”

“No. You know? I don’t. Somehow the two months I spent grounded because of it didn’t really lock it in my memory. That or the slap across the face. Or the one on the back of my head. But you know what? Maybe if you tried again it’d trigger something. Wanna give it a try? I was pretty scrawny back then but I can’t promise I’m not gonna hit you back this time.”

“He had nightmares for a month then couldn’t sleep for another three weeks and wet his bed at least a dozen times.”

“Have I told you about the nightmares I had as a kid?”

“You never had nightmares. I would’ve remembered.”

“Well not if I didn’t tell you you wouldn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Oh I don’t know. I guess I was a little scared.”

“What for?”

“Who knows? I was a kid. Was probably just being silly. But…”

“Oh—what was it? Sean?”

“It’s alright it’s just you know it’s still a bit… A bit much to uh—to think about…”

“Hey. It’s alright. You can tell me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course baby.”

“Well I guess I didn’t tell you because I was scared you’d get mad.”

“Mad? Why would I—”

“And I guess I’m still a little worried.”

“Why would I get mad? You can’t control your nightmares.”

“It’s just that I had a dream about getting strangled in my bed.”

“What!”

“Yeah. And I still think about it sometimes when I’m trying to sleep. But then I listen a moment and I relax because I can’t hear your cackle anywhere in my apartment so I just take a deep breath and—”

“Wait—my—”

“After I was grounded and you let me talk to my friends again and let me eat food after seven pm and let me go to the track with Harry again and let me run as fast as I could even if it meant I beat him every time because I was on the track team before you took me out of every goddamned activity besides school school school—”

“Sean—”

“Anyways it was after all that that I started getting this absolutely traumatizing nightmare about getting strangled in my bed and right before I’d completely die I’d look up in your face laughing like a maniac and then I’d wake up with your horrible snort ringing in my ear.”

“Sean. Maurice. You—”

“Come on it was convincing wasn’t it? Harry’s been telling me to get back into improv. I think he just wants to come to my shows so he can heckle and completely throw me off my rhythm. Remember when he’d do that? In college? He’d always bring some ugly sorority girl and tear me to pieces just to get a laugh out of her.”

“If you don’t call him I’m going to tell him myself. And I’m going to tell him you knew and didn’t care enough about him to actually—”

“Fantastic idea! We done here? I should really finish this up as quick as I can. Harry’s expecting it later.”

“Harry’s—what?”

“Hmm? Oh he just wanted me to bring it with me. You know how he gets with his things—all possessive and everything.”

“You’re—what do you—you’re seeing him? You’re seeing Harry? Today?”

“In an hour or two. Why? Didn’t I mention it?”

“You—you—I don’t—”

“What’s wrong? You look—god are you alright? If you didn’t give yourself a heart attack before…”

“Tell me you’re not going to tell him. Today. Tell me you weren’t planning to go and see him today—and had coffee with me and—you’re… Are you going to tell him?”

“Alright—now what is wrong with you. Of course I am!”

“Don’t—oh you’re… You’re horrible… You really are your father’s son you know that?”

“Oh you mean the incarcerated abuser?”

“You tell Harry I had no part in—”

“Where are you going?”

“You tell him I didn’t—you tell him it’s all you—it’s all your—”

“You don’t have to worry about what I tell him. I’m only planning to tell him the truth.”