Porky Pie

TW: This story contains content that might be disturbing to some readers, including scenes of blood, violence, suicide ideation and homicide. Please be mindful of these triggers as you read.

Avocados; I wonder what they taste like to another tongue. And if their shade of green doesn't seem like to another pair of eyes, as it seems to mine?

And what if reality is all but a movie, a reverie created by our brain? You know what scientists say, about color, that they don't exist as we see them but is made to look so when the gears of our mind move in a particular way!

You might be thinking why I am being so philosophical, or asking crazy questions. Trust me I have a reason that when I tell you about, I swear on Christ you won't believe. And its but a recent experience in fact something that has happened merely yesterday.

So I was in my kitchen, brewing up strong doppio. Then it was time to pour it down right. As I went looking for my favorite mug, I didn't see it on the pot rack where I usually keep it. But strangely enough, it was scattered in pieces, broken on the floor. Poor luck ain't it? But wait there's more to it. By the time I grabbed my dustpan and broom, the mess was gone. The mug was sitting peacefully on the rack at the exact same place as it should be. I dismissed it as a glitch in my memory and put the dustpan aside, took the pot out of the brewer's burner and tried to fill the mug up. Then guess what, it slipped off my hand fell on the floor and scattered to pieces in the exact same fashion as I remember seeing it earlier. How do explain that?

Its not the first of such experiences that has happened this week though. Like how the other day I saw three women on the bus, all of them wearing the same orange striped, turtleneck sweaters and sky blue trousers. They had dyed their hair to purple, the same shade of purple that is. They hopped out at three different stations so there is no way they were related or something right!

If you ask me, I can't say why its all happening. Perhaps its pain; pain changes things. Or I don't know if its loneliness. It gets very lonely by myself in this big old apartment. It's so lonely sometimes that I feel like there's even ain't no spirit living with me like I am dying just like my poor poor heart. You know what they say about loneliness; that its deadly and it can eat you whole. Or maybe GOD is very upset with Julian for some reason. Oh, I am Julian. 

Ah, Jesus I forgot to tell you about the knife.

So I got this one slender looking stainless steel knife. I keep it in the drawer right. It started like three days ago when that knife went missing from the drawer and I couldn't find it anywhere in the kitchen nor in any other rooms and I couldn't even remember If I had misplaced it. And you know where I found it at last? My trashbin! That's right where I found it, inside the goddammed bin. It happened not once though and every time it goes missing, it somehow ends up inside that same trashbin.

Sometimes when I look at that knife it feels like its possessed by hell. Because when I look at it, my head is filled with all the dirty thoughts. About how I'd like grab it and slash my wrists or stab my heart and end this misery once and for all. These are just thoughts anyway, not that I'd do anything stupid. I ain't crazy.

***

All I tell you its real, you must trust me. Before you call me off a liar, let me tell you another incident, one that happened in broad daylight.

I was out jogging and about the junction next to my apartment, a raspy voiced called me out from the rear. "Mr. Vincent Booth, is that you?" I turned around and saw two officers in their dark blue uniform standing by their vehicle, 'POLICE DEPARTMENT CITY OF NEW YORK' boldly written on their shoulders. Both broad built and muscular, one standing straight with a curly head the other bald and slightly stooping.

Before I could say something, the raspy bald cop continued, "Mr. Booth, we were just heading to your address. We have news regarding your wife"

"My wife? What about her?"

"Sir you filed a missing person report three days ago regarding your wife Mrs. Flora Booth"

"Did you find her?" I asked.

The bald officer glanced away at his partner who mumbled "We have some grave news Mr. Booth. We have been able to recover her body from a lake by the refinery. Apparently she has been stabbed multiple times by a knife around her lower abdomen. Apart from the stab wound, there were bruises on her right forehead and..."

"That's so cruel" I whispered.

"Sir, we are both sorry for your loss. Can you think of anyone who might harbour such hatred or hold any grudges against your wife?"

"None that I can recall officer, no"

The cop with the curly hair nodded and replied, "Alright, thanks for your time Mr. Booth. We will be in touch soon. Take care" and both of them boarded the car.

I turned away too for a moment. But soon it dawned on me; they referred me as 'Vincent'. My name is Julian. As I turned again to ask them about the same it was all gone. They were gone and I did hear no sound of engine running, no horns, so screech of tires. They simply vanished.

***

Sometimes it feels like the whole of reality is crashing down. Like it's all falling apart piece by piece. This morning I saw another of such bizarre incidents. Water streaming down a faucet. It should be a linear downward flow, we all know how water should look like when it flows. But what I saw wasn't exactly in accordance with how things should be. The flow stopped in mid air, hanging in a spiral design for several seconds before its resumed its natural order.

How odd. And devoid of peace as if someone is sucking it out of existence. Like on the evening I brewed another cup of my regular strong doppio; and in the crescendo of my frustrations, my favorite mug was nowhere to be found and I couldn't remember in of all hell, where it could be.

Ding Dong. Someone rang my doorbell then, what utter annoyance.

When I opened my door ajar, I saw two officers standing with crossed arms. The one with the curly head looked me over with his raised brown brows. "Mr. Booth, I am Officer Miller" then pointing to his partner he said "This is Officer Dixon, we met yesterday. We are here to talk about the ongoing investigation regarding your wife's demise"

"Oh, hello officer. Uh Officers" I greeted them like any gentleman would.

"Mind if we come in?" The bald one dictated with his hand giving a slight push at my door.

"Of course, please come in"

I poured both of them two cups of fresh doppio, poured myself another and sipped on it as we talked.

The bald cop clicked a switch on his chest and chimed "Mr. Booth we are going to ask you a few questions. We would appreciate your complete honesty and this whole...interview is going to be recorded..."

"Recorded? I don't follow"

"Standard procedure. It shall be used it in the court of justice if needed be..."

"Court? Officer is all these formalities necessary? I am not in any kind of trouble am I" My voice quivered a bit...it’s their eyes. The curly cop cocked his head and looked at me squint-eyed and straight "Only if you don't cooperate"

"How would you describe your relationship to your late wife?" The bald cop asked, his eyes gazing me out.

"What can I say officer. What we had is beautiful, I loved her deeply and I know from my heart she loved me too" 

"Mr. Booth it's strange. It so happens that we also questioned some of your neighbors and all of them said you and our wife fought very often"

"Well every marriage got problems" I don't know what they wanted, none of them looked satisfied with my answer. The bald cop pursed his lips while looking at me before he threw his next question. "Please describe in details, what happened the day she went missing. You noticed anything odd or something?"

"She went out to buy groceries and didn't come back that night. The next morning I filed in the report"

"She left to buy groceries?" He seemed surprised for some reason. "When did she go out? And be as exact as possible"

"Around 7"

"7 as in the evening?"

"7 in the evening, that's right officer" I said nodding my head.

The bald cop furrowed his brows, and with an uplifted chin stated, "Mr. Booth, almost all of your neighbors we questioned, specifically said they heard you and your wife fighting the night she went missing. And all of them said they heard it more or less around midnight"

That's a lie I'm telling you. They are all liars. We didn't fight.

"Why would they say such an awful thing?" I demanded. Someone was definitely trying to frame me. And the cops didn't believe me either, I could say from their looks. They glanced at each other and the curly brown headed cop stepped forward, hands on his hips.

"Mind if I take a look around?" He insisted sipping his cup empty.

"If it pleases you officer" I said politely as he strolled away before I could even finish, hands still on his hips as the other cop continued with his questions.

I couldn't understand, what was even there to look for?

Afterward he returned with heavy steps, carrying my trash bag and clasping the stainless steel knife on his gloved hand inspecting for something.

The brown head glanced at his partner who glanced back at him, "There seems to be traces of blood along the edges of the blade and also about its heel" And then both of them gazed at me. Silence, there was terrible silence that followed as two pairs of eyes glared vividly. "I don't know what you're saying officer. It must be some kind of mistake." I had to say something, break the silence or they would've stared me to death.

"No mistake Mr. Booth. The red stains are clear enough to spot with naked eyes"

"It must be jam or some sauce"

I know you might be thinking I did something terrible but trust me I didn't. I don't know why those officers were being so rude; they didn't believe anything I say. But you must, you know I am innocent.

"Jam?" he chuckled. "And what's it been doing in your dustbin?"

"It keeps moving on its own officer"

I told you about the knife didn't I? But they are not gonna believe me, I can say from their looks.

“On its own? Things are not adding up" The bald cop hissed.

The curly one combed the inside of my trash bag and held out a piece of my favorite cup, "There seems to be traces of blood on this sherd too. Mr. Booth I'm sorry you will need to come to the station with us" He ordered. What a vile accusation.

And then justice dawned on all of us as the curly headed cop puked, stained red inside the trash bag and fell to his knees. He looked at his partner and quaked "The coffee, it’s the coffee" before he slumped to the floor.

The bald one glanced back panting terror gleaming in his eyes. Swiftly he went for his gun before puking himself. Blood running down his mouth that scattered across the floor and the uniform; then he collapsed too.

What a tragedy. I didn't kill them but they wouldn't have believed me anyway. I will have to do something or others will accuse me of killing just like these two. Don't you worry I know a fine deep lake by the refinery, where even the most well trained dogs won't be able to sniff them out.

But I didn't kill my wife, my beloved Flora. You have to trust me, what I am telling you are but the whole truth.