Five Fun Facts About Me
by Ard Connell
No, don’t wake up. I’ve been waiting for a quiet moment.
I apologize for the difficult first day. The migraine is not an introduction of my choosing and is a rather unfortunate byproduct of my emergence. Truth be told, in a darkly humorous way a splitting headache is an appropriate beginning, don’t you think?
Given that we are not well acquainted, I’ve been thinking about ice breakers. One of my favorites is five fun facts. I tell you five things about me and you try to guess which one is a lie. Let’s give it a try.
My goodness, your heart is racing. There’s no need to be nervous. This isn’t a test. Take a deep breath. There now, that’s better. And your eyes, darting around behind closed lids as if looking for a way out. There isn’t one. So still your eyes, too. Good.
Now for the facts. Listen carefully.
One, though you would like to believe you made me up, conjured me like a genie that can be rebottled at your whim, I am, in fact, here to stay. More jinni than genie.
Two, I am no angel. Like you, I am free to be me.
Three, I believe the spirit’s hunger for pleasure is sated equally either by indulgence in self-satisfaction or by eliminating things which cause it displeasure.
Four, mother, father, sister and even still unsullied baby brother cause me great consternation and for this they must die. That may sound like two facts, but for our purposes let’s treat them as one, with the emphasis on the dying. Specifically, in their sleep and silently by firmly drawing father’s splendid and deservedly treasured ivory-handled khukuri across each of their tender, bumptious throats. At the risk of giving away the false fun fact, a bit more about this one. It will begin with your brother, as he will be the most difficult for us, his grave offense being merely his blissful ignorance of what we know to be true about this life. Willful, catty and irredeemably spoiled little sister will be next. The reasoning is simple: should there be any trouble with the maggot infested dung heaps that are father and mother and our task is not completed, their horror and grief will be one child greater.
Finally, fact five, following these soul satiating acts I will feel exalted. An exuberant happiness will flow over me like a river of baptismal blood.
There. Four facts and a fib. Figure it out?
I’m sure you have. If I’d added a sixth fact, it would have been I never lie. You knew that, didn’t you? I could tell by the steadiness of your breath. By the set of your jaw.
Don’t rush now. Haste makes noise.
Best perhaps to lower the crib rail for a better angle.
Richard Edwards has a BFA in Creative Writing and Journalism from Bowling Green State University and an M.S. in Education from the University of Akron. Managing editor of Drunk Duck, poetry editor for Prairie Margins, reporter for Miscellany, Akron Journal, Lorain Journal, and The BG News. He has also worked as a professional writer and editor in the medical publishing industry for several years. For the last 15 years Richard has also taught literature and writing at the secondary and post-secondary levels. He works much of the time with at-risk students.