Dora: A Headcase by Lidia Yuknavitch

Author:Lidia Yuknavitch [Yuknavitch, Lidia]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Coming of Age
ISBN: 9780983850472
Publisher: Hawthorne Books & Literary Arts, Incorpoarted
Published: 2012-09-11T04:00:00+00:00

16.

JUST WHEN YOU THINK THINGS ARE AS CLUSTERFUCKED as they can get, they fuckgasm straight out of orbit.

Yeah. Mr. and Mrs. K.? Turns out, they have kids. Two vile midget creatures. I swear they have fur on their paws. Wanna know how I know? They’re here. At the condo. The boy creature is trying to get a Tetra – those bullshit blue and red fish everyone on the planet has in their aquarium because they live and die quickly and flush easily – out of the aquarium with one of my mother’s beloved spoons, while the girl creature – what is up with that hair? Who puts a ponytail straight up on the top of a kid head? She looks like Cindy Lou Who. Only uglier. She stares at me. Picks her little creature snot nose. Throws it at me. Charming.

Because my dad’s at home recuperating. Because Mrs. K. is “helping out.” Because my mother? You’re gonna love this. Apparently, now is the optimum supremo cool time to go stay with her great aunt in Vienna.

I know. I can’t believe it either. Vienna? Seriously? Hello, but don’t you have a spare DAUGHTER lying around the house? All I got was a shitty-ass note on the baby grand that said “Ida, you are certainly old enough to take care of yourself for awhile. A nurse from the hospital will visit once a day. Your father has plenty of help. He needs peace and quiet. Be mature. This is a difficult time. Don’t get in the way.”

Awesome. You know, I’d be crushed and all, but the more I’m around this family, the more I understand – things must always get worse, or the drama goes impotent. That’s the fucked up part about life. You have to keep stroking the family drama. Wouldn’t want anyone to feel, you know, good about their lives, or selves exactly the way they are. Wouldn’t want any bullshit Zen calm descending on the home. That’d be nuts. You stroke the drama with everything you’ve got until you run out of energy. Then you die. The end. Orgasm accomplished.

Goddamn god. Or anti-god.

Just look at those midgets. I walk over to the she-midget. I give her a little kick. She falls over and her face gets red like she’s gonna cry. Oh, but she doesn’t cry. She’s a crafty little midget. She licks the toe of my Doc, then looks up at me like that sly nasty Chucky elf dude in the horror flicks. Great. Our house is now possessed by short pudgy demons.

The boy creature flips the Tetra straight over his shoulder with the spoon. I stare at it on the floor there for a second. Wriggling. Helpless. Out of its element. What’s the best option? Smash it into the carpet with my foot, or carefully return it to the tank? Does it really matter?

I choose the latter. But not because I’m any kind of savior. Frankly I feel a tinge of guilt – here little guy, here

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