The Punishment For A ‘Wheek’ Man

I stare through the bars of my cage into a small exotic pet shop. My friend lies still next to me, I try to wake him, but he doesn’t budge. I could see he had not been eating for the past few days and his lifeless body makes the fur on my back stand up. I feel devastated because my buddy will be taken away forever. Then I remember something terrible I did as a human.

​I regret the choice I made in the past; not only did I hurt my wife, I hurt my son as well. Now I’ve come back as a mere guinea pig for the crime I’ve committed. My eyes are dull, saddened by the fact that I’m not human anymore. I don’t understand. It’s overwhelming, the idea of my son growing up without his father! I sit by myself like a lump, pondering everything that has happened. Then I hear a ding-dong and the door to the shop opens.

​A woman in her early thirties walks towards my cage. She has dark circles under her eyes. I recognize her; this woman is my wife! I get this horrible feeling and I stay very still, listening to every noise. Tic-Toc, Tic-Toc, it seems like forever, but finally she speaks: “How much for the rodent?” The owner of the store takes her money and grips me tightly in his giant hands, then dumps me into a small box with tiny punctures in the top. I breathe heavily, my side rising and falling as my small heart beats a sad, sad melody. I’m numb, I stop feeling the pain from where the shop owner grabbed me, and I feel lonely.

​I am haunted by guilt, the way I walked out on my son and wife. As a human, my last words were, “You are not my son, and you’re a disgrace to our family!” Now I realize the mistake I’ve made, I guess I deserve this cruel punishment. Eventually my wife opens the box and my eyes adjust to the dimly lit room. I assume I am living in a small cage in the messy apartment; it even has a name painted on a crooked sign. It reads: “Mr. Piggle Wiggles”.

​My heart sinks, but then I see my wife and she gives me a wry smile. She glances at me; I get the idea that she recognizes me. My hopes dwindle when she says, “I can’t wait for you to meet my son little guy!” I want to scream out that I’m sorry and that I love her, but all that comes out is a tiny squeak. She laughs at this and gently scoops me up. She holds me and strokes my back; the warmth from her hand feels wonderful. I let out a purr and I feel happier than I’ve felt in a long time! The moment of tranquility doesn’t last long, when I realized I was no longer her husband.

​I’ve been bored all morning, and since no one seems to be home, I relax. I stretch my hind legs and let out a big yawn, my four sharp teeth glistening. I begin to doze off, but then I hear her car pull into the driveway; she slams that door so hard the birds fall out of the trees. I can hear the argument she is having with my son; I despise having good hearing because I cannot tune out the harsh words. Since when could they afford a car?

​Before I can figure out what is going on, my son struts over to my cage. I want to tell him it’s alright and that I’m right here, but I can’t even look at him. He glares at me, and raises his fist, and I think he is going to hurt me, but he does something unexpected. He extends his hand toward me, and drops an orange carrot in front of me. “Mommy, told me to give this to you. Don’t think this makes us friends because you stink! I mean really,” he said pinching his nose and running back into the house.

​Memories of what I did flow back into my mind. There was nothing right about my disgusting behavior as a human. I realize now that I was a terrible father to my son and a horrible husband too. When my wife, Sarah became pregnant it was unexpected. We both had graduated from the university we had met at. We decided to tie the knot a month later. The night of our wedding, she told me the sudden news, we cried together. She was scared, but also hopeful. I was terrified. She wanted nothing else but to keep the child. All I wanted was to curl up into a ball and become non-existent. I wasn’t ready to become a father so I panicked and asked her how we would raise a baby without jobs. It had been a year since we were married and I still had no luck finding a job. She worked as a waitress to make ends meet. She started sobbing, and I brought up the idea of an abortion. With a cold stare, she replied,

“I will raise this baby with, or without you.” Her words pierced through my soul, but not enough to reach my heart. I chose to walk out on my pregnant wife.

I continued to run from my problems. I started drinking at a local bar. I’d have one or two drinks occasionally, but this eventually led to me having five or more drinks a day. After getting into a brawl with the bartender, I realized I was broke, homeless, and lonely. Worst of all, I had become my father who died an alcoholic. I feared my life was going to meet the same fate as my father. But as I walked outside the bar, a woman and a young boy were walking past a toy shop. Then I realized it was Sarah, and I was shocked because there was a little boy maybe five or six years old holding her hand. I approached them, and she looked unsure, she probably didn’t recognize me under my overgrown beard. I stopped in front of them and after a few seconds she whispered,

“Mark is that you?” She looked disgusted by my presence, like a cat hurling up a hairball. She started walking away so I asked her how she was doing. She responded,

“Better than ever.” I could see how exhausted she looked, she was frailer than when I last had seen her.

Then I saw the little boy had reached for my hand, to which I extended my hand out, but I was interrupted by her harsh answer: no. The little boy then asked why, and she responded,

“Billy, we don’t talk to strangers.” The little boy scrunched up his face and said,

“But Mommy you just talked to a stranger.” She hesitated. She was about to start walking away so I bent down to our son and I said,

​“Oh so your name is Billy! That’s a fine name.”

“Mommy said not to talk to strangers,” he said as he puffed up his cheeks.

“But I’m not a stranger, I’m your fath-,” but before I could finish I was interrupted by my wife who shouted,

“Ok time to go Billy!” I felt the blood rush to my face, and I yelled back,

“He has a right to know that I’m his father!”

“You were never his father. You weren’t even there when he was born,” she said holding back tears. At this, my son looked at me with his big blue eyes and asked,

“Are you really my Daddy?”

“Yes, and I’m here now, right?” He looked me over, then he turned to Sarah, and asked,

“Please Mommy, can Daddy live with us?” She turned bright red and frowned. He started pouting and within seconds he was hysterical crying. He caused such a scene that people nearby were staring. He was whining that he always wanted to meet his dad and that he wanted to talk to me more. I knew I was being selfish, but I also needed a place to live. I needed to prove to my wife and son that I was capable of providing for them. I made up an elaborate lie and told my wife how I had invented a popular toy dog for children and that I had gotten 80% of the royalties in sales. My son’s eyes lit up. My wife wasn’t convinced so I explained the company I worked for in detail and she was still skeptical until I told her my salary.

“Really,” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered. She leaned closer and whispered in my ear,

“Prove to me you have the money and buy your son a birthday gift. He’s turning eight” Really my son was eight? He was short and slightly chubby. He didn’t look at all how I imagined my son to be. I figured he’d be the athletic type, but ironically he had a baby face.

“Absolutely, I’ll get him the latest model. When is his birthday,” I asked as I dove further into this lie.

“A week from today,” she said.

“Great, I’ll make sure to have it ready before then,” I replied.

“We can meet right here. Is that ok,” she asked.

“It’s a little chilly, can we meet at your place,” I ask.

“Um, I don't know. It’s not big and it’s kind of a mess,” she said as she started to fidget from side to side.

“Mommy! Can Daddy live with us,” he asked. My wife responded softly,

“I’m sure daddy has his own place and-”

“Actually I’m in the process of moving from an apartment to a big home.”

“Really,” she asked.

“All my stuff is packed up in boxes. So, I actually need a place to stay, temporarily,” I said. My son was frantic and said,

“Mommy, please let Daddy stay with us. It would be the best birthday present ever!” Hesitant my wife said,

“Maybe just for this week. After Billy’s birthday, we can see what happens.”

“Great,” I exclaimed.

“I guess we should all head back now,” my wife said.

I had done it, I convinced them so far. We arrived at a small run-down apartment. When we entered the room, it smelled of stale urine. It was like a scene out of any horror movie. I was convinced a monster was living under all the trash. My son immediately crawls onto a mattress in the corner. My wife suddenly bursts into tears,

​“Sorry about the mess, it’s been really rough and-” I moved closer to her and embraced her for the first time in a long time. She smelled sweet despite the mess she created. I mean, we created. Looking back, it was also my fault. We hugged all night and we didn’t say a word. The next morning, I got up and explained that I needed to head out to make a call to the company to get the gift. She nodded in agreement as I walked out the door. Once I was in the fresh air, it hit me, how was I going to get this toy? After thinking it over and pretending to be on the phone, I came back inside. Billy was still sound asleep. I wondered if he even went to school. My wife looked at me and I told her it went well and I would be able to pick up the gift the day of his birthday. She told me that would be great. A few days passed and it was the day of his birthday.

I had come up with the best plan the night before. I kissed my wife on the cheek, and I told her I’d be back in a bit. I left, and headed out to the bar because across the street was a toy store. I quickly entered the store and a worker asked,

“Sir, holiday shopping?” I ignored his cheery attitude, and didn’t say a word. Moving quickly, I grabbed a random toy dog, and a few other toys and I bolted out of the store. The greeter looked astonished, his smile was a frown. He chased me, but somehow I was faster and managed to escape with the toys.

Back at the apartment, my wife greeted me at the door,

“Wow! You actually got him stuff!”

“Of course. I’m here for him now,” I said. She started to tear up and said,

“C’mon inside, he’s going to be so excited.” I walked inside, nothing could ruin my plan. I approached my son and said,

“Hey, happy birthday (insert son’s name here)!” He smiled and then noticed all the toys in my arms. His eyes went so wide I thought he might explode from the excitement.

“Are those all for me,” he asked.

“Yes, happy birthday,” I said. We played as a family for a bit, but the reality set in when we heard knocks on the door.

“Who could that be,” my son asked. I was as clueless as him. What was about to unfold would be the worst birthday gift imaginable.

My wife opened the door, it was a police officer. My heart sank, maybe it was unrelated.

“Ma’am sorry to bother you, but I’m here to ask some questions,” the officer said.

“Nobody stole anything. I worked so hard to-” I started to say but then I was interrupted by the officer saying,

“Well, the cameras say otherwise,” He glanced over at me. My son is hiding behind me shaking and whimpering.

“I didn’t steal anything,” I say firmly. I knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“Sir, you have the right to remain silent,” the officer said. I complied.

“Sir, come with me,” the officer said as he placed handcuffs on me. I was quiet but my son and wife were freaking out. Inside I felt defeated. I failed twice. They dragged me away and I never saw them again. I died in prison, or so I thought.

The flashbacks end, and I sit there angrier than ever, but I can’t even yell, my teeth chatter instead. Eventually, I feel hungry and I stare at the carrot, its smell pulling me in. I open my mouth and take a small bite, swooshing my four teeth from side to side, grinding the carrot so I can swallow it. It is the most delicious food I’ve tasted, and I am grateful for it. I feel stuffed and content. I deserve to be a guinea pig after what I had done.

​Time will keep flowing, and I realize I will stay a guinea pig. The thought horrifies me. I’m slowly forgetting everything I did as a human. My mind goes blank, I try to remember, but it’s no use. I slam myself against the walls of the cage, hoping this will trigger a memory, but all I feel is the throbbing in my head. I do this over and over, until I am exhausted. I refuse to eat or drink, with each night that goes by I feel weaker and weaker.

​One evening, I feel my life is at its end, I close my eyes. I feel my body go limp, I must be disoriented because I hear my son crying. He whimpers,

“Please don’t leave us, like Daddy did!” I thought to myself,

“I’m sorry too…I deserve this…” I feel myself drifting away, I sense my wife rubbing my back, and I meet my end for real this time.