Asher smooshed his cheeks against
the lollipop sticky bars to get a better look at the wild boar. He sniffed
loudly, and even still, a slimy trickle of mucous coated the area between his
upper lip and nose. Some of the slime oozed down his bottom lip and salty
curdle blossomed throughout his mouth. His eyes were no longer dewy but almost
matte in the chilly cloudless day. The sunlight seeped over his skin and its
weak warmth shielded him from shivering in his light sweatshirt.
The
wild boars seemed enormous compared with his visions of Pumba. The boar stood
perhaps four feet from the ground. It’s tusks were mottled with the stringy
wrappings of dried vegetation. Coarse brown hair swept along the fields of its
back as it grunted, its soft petal nose sniffing its way closer to the bars as
it waited for bait of half eaten candy-bars and street fair. Heat dripped from
its nostrils, dripping onto the sloping embankment near the wall of the enclosure.
It’s eyes were neither warm nor cold, just as the haunted ivory tusks bore no
mother’s care nor the protection of a firearm.
Asher
rubbed his nose with the back of a tiny hand. He heard Ms. Aimee call his name
in a tinny French accent but he ignored her and stooped to the hard concrete
sidewalk. Grits and sandpaper stones dug into his knees.
He
scrutinized the beast, his lip curled up to his wet nose and his eyes
squinting. The boar snorted, stepping closer. Its beady black eyes stared at
him, and the way the ditch of the enclosure sank, the beasts head sat just
under Asher’s. It’s breath smelled dull, of acorns, moss, roots, and scraps of
fried chicken, hotdogs, and plastic bags.
“Ewww…”
A tangled bush of curly blonde
hair blocked the face of the child who had joined Asher at the bars.
“Its
not that bad.”
“Yeah
it is—it smells like when Scooter threw up cat poop.”
Asher
hadn’t wasted time learning many names in the weeks he’d lived at Covenfeld,
but he knew the name of the yappy rat terrier who loved licking faces and
nipping ankles and the mahogany sideboards of the home. He had overheard one
night, as he sat on the floor next to the wall of his room picking at the pine tree
wallpaper that furled in on itself just
above the heating vent, older kids swearing and chasing a scurrying pounding
sound of claws entertained and annoyed by its incessant barking. Asher liked
that dog. It was a rescue. Kindof like him.
“Or
maybe like Aimee’s chicken casserole, if a monkey pooped on it, ate it and
pooped it out again and then Scooter ate it with the cat poop and threw all of
that up,” the blonde boy said, eyes shining at the very thought and shaking a
rounded clammy fist.
“I’ve
smelled worse.”
“How
worse?”
“The
monster that killed Mom and Dad smelled way worse. Like Eating a toad, or a
trashcan or vegetables or girls or—”
“Or
poop?”
Asher sighed. “Or poop.” The blond
boy’s freckles brightened and he smiled, showing empty sockets where his front
teeth should be.
“You
saw a monster?” he said, wide eyed at Asher.
“
Yeah, I’m trying to find it. I’m gonna kill it!”
The Blond kid perked up and he
scouted the perimeter, checking for the monster, expecting it to come barreling
forth to surprise them both.
“Can
I help?” the kid said, eyes wide.
“Sure.”
“Is
that it?” the kid said, pointing at the giant boar shuffling in the long grass,
urinating as it did. Asher frowned, pursing his lips.
“I
thought so, but then I saw its face and I don’t think so now.”
“Oh…”
the kid looked put out. “How do you know?”
“Cause
its too short and its nose is the wrong shape.”
“Boys!”
shouted a third voice that hinted towards a foreign origin. The blonde boys
looked at each other.
“We
should follow Aimee.”
“Yeah, I need to
pee.”
“Then we can
look more for your monster?”
“To kill it?”
“Yeah!”
“Yeah!”
The boys started towards the parade of foster children
following Ms. Aimee like a tribe of ducklings. Asher turned towards the boy as
they walked.
“Do you
think Ms. Aimee will take us to the gift shop now?”
©2014 Lex Vex
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