Keep An Open Mind

I've always been a busybody. Ever since I was a kid, my family told me that I was always thinking of the next thing. "Sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses, Greg." All of my exes would say the same thing too. My last relationship broke my usual record of 6 months, we ended being together for a year and a half. Way longer than I'm used to, but I was alright with that. His name was Brian. He was very patient and down to earth the first few months. They just...got me. After a while though, he kept asking me where we were headed and if I was going to "pop the question". I kept putting it off. I felt like I was finally getting somewhere in life. I was grinding it really hard at my job and had finally landed a promotion at work. I was ecstatic! When I got home that day, Brian had already packed his bags. He told me that they needed someone willing to commit and that they were getting too impatient waiting for me to feel the same way.

I was heartbroken, the most heartbroken I've ever been after a relationship. I stopped going out and my friends would ask how I was. What could I tell them? That I got dumped? That I was a workaholic? Eventually, calls from my friends stopped coming in. I was alone. And when you get to be that alone, all you can do is pull up your bootstraps and try to get off your ass, one leg at a time.

One morning, I found a bunch of dead squirrels in my driveway. Maybe a dozen or so. I didn't think much of it at the time, I just thought that there might've been a mass-squirrel suicide or something. It was peculiar though, all of them had perfectly cut holes on the top of their heads, and their skulls were empty. I had too much shit to do, so I paid no mind and swept their bodies to put them in the trash.

I was running late for work. I didn't have time to make breakfast so I got a can of peas to eat on my commute. I got out my automatic can opener to allow access to my sustenance. I got the can opener on sale at K-Mart. I never have time to properly open my cans in the morning, so it was practically a steal for me. I plugged it in and I put the can under its gears.

For some reason, it was taking so much longer than usual for the can opener to start. Now, I'll admit, I can fly off the handle pretty easily. Brian was always there to slow my roll and calm me down, but without him around it's getting harder lately to not get heated so quickly. This morning was no exception. I had an important meeting at work and no time could be wasted. I was starting to get pissed off. I smacked my table and demanded that the can opener get me to my goddamn peas already. I was running low on time and patience.

I shoved my hand onto the can to make it twist faster, but I accidentally stuck my finger under its gears. It went straight through my finger and took the tip clean off. I was screaming and blood was going everywhere. It hurt so bad. I turned to look at my can opener, and it spun so fast that the can of peas shot out like a rocket! I had to duck to avoid getting hit.

I was starting to get scared and gave my can opener a suspicious look. There was no way that this was causing all this to happen. But I couldn't deny reality. The can opener seemed to be mocking me. It kept its gears spinning as if it was daring me to try and provoke it again. I started to get angry, this thing sawed off my fingertip. I got up and looked around my kitchen, searching for anything that could possibly stop this thing.

That was a mistake. The can opener was prepared for this. How many times have I shaken it in frustration? How many times has it had to endure my wrath? A few times? Maybe a dozen? I got it right after Brian left. It didn't matter anymore, because none of that could've prepared me for what happened next.

As I fruitlessly searched my kitchen for anything to combat my rebellious can opener, it started to rev up its gears. The roar of its efforts kept getting louder and louder. By the time I got my hands on a kitchen knife, it had launched itself and caught onto my head. Then it started to cut. I screamed. The pain was unbearable. I tried to rip it off but it had an iron-like grip. It made a perfect circle around my skull, and the top of my head popped off like the top of a can.

But it didn't stop there. It latched onto my brain and started obliterating it piece by piece. My eyes rolled back and my mouth started foaming. My body was being forcibly shut down in the most brutal way possible. Chunks of what used to be my brain were being splattered all over the kitchen. It must've only been seconds but the pain made it feel like an eternity. I collapsed. Then suddenly, I remembered the empty squirrel heads I had found earlier that morning. All cleanly cut and precise.

Oh my god, I'm dying. Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god I'm dying I'm dying I'm dying. No more birthdays, weddings, baptisms, baby showers. God, I should've been better. My twelfth birthday, graduation, meeting Brian, moving in together, arguments, the fights. It felt like everything about me and who I am was slipping through my hands. My memories and emotions were being sloshed out and flying out of my head in pieces around my kitchen.

The last thing I thought before it went dark was that I didn't even like peas. It's my least favorite food. Brian loved them though.