Franklyn - Episode 3
Rationale
I know you may sit there and wonder why a boy would want to kill his father. You may also stand or squat or lie as you wonder. However you wonder doesn't really matter. That you are wondering is what bothers me.
Do you know the depth of fathers atrocities, the magnitude of his tyrany?
How can you know, when you don't stay in my house, when you don't even know my bus stop? Even the neighbors have no idea. My father is a chameleon, a sly snake taking different shades and forms to suit his mischief.
Do you know Father is a drunk? How would you, you've not seen him display his eccentricity before . He spends most of his meagre salary on alcohol, the hombre. Alcohol makes him susceptible to fits of irrelevant anger. Mother would welcome him, like every normal wife would a husband. And he would vent his reply with a million expletives underlined with ‘Where is my food?’
Now that I think of it, food would've been the easiest way to kill the man. He eats like a predator, gobbling like a pig, sometimes we fear he might down the ceramic plate as well, or swallow pieces of the spoon as he masticates furiously. Or maybe bite one of our heads off as well.
He always finds fault with the food after eating. He never does midway
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. He complains of either excess or insufficient salt, pepper or the quantity of the food itself.
‘Am I a dog. How can you serve me that small food. Do you give your children such rations?’
Then a slap would follow his frustration as though to corroborate his complain. It comes with kicks and blows, then he would conclude with a long, incoherent threat when it seems mother can no longer stifle her cries. He would fall asleep on the couch after squinting at the TV for a minute, and begin snoring like a cow. Don't ask me if cows snore.
Funny enough, Father never beats us. He never does. He leaves that job for Mother. He usually says, If I beat you, I'll kill you! Even when Benny spoilt the radio, screwing it open and dismantling it into pieces. Even when I failed and repeated a class and my class teacher called and asked him to 'please' beat me. He never did. He prefers to beat mother. I think it gives him some kind of joy, some sort of fulfillment.
What annoys me the most is that Mother never fights back. Now, I don't mean physically. No. Every other way. She just goes right back into his arms as if she's suffering from a curse, a spell, binding her to him, be it tough or rosy. She won't ever argue. She never grumbles. She says her primary responsibility is to love her husband and care for him, NO MATTER WHAT.
The rate at which she's rushed to hospitals nowadays, one day we might just wind up motherless and father would marry a new wife. I've seen it happen in the movies. The man marries a new wife who in turn maltreats the children because they're apparently not hers and seem to unconsciously carry a sort of intimidating air around. Then the children, since they can't be altogether thrown out of the house, become slaves like Cinderella relegated to running errands and house chores.
My brother and I don't want that. No. No. We have to kill our father. We just have to. This time it's both of us. It's not unilateral. As a team we can kill better. My face still contorted is a boost, a provoking boost.
We begin to plot, Benny and me. Father just has to die this time.
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