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Cartoon Fat

At one time there was a boy with a large hand that had little white spots on it. He was taken to the Doctor and it was found that these white spots were not cleaning materials like White Out, as suspected, but that he had been born with them in his DNA. He wowed his friends with them. It really did wow his friends too, though when they saw him from a distance and especially up close they all thanked God for not being anything like him. Sometimes he’d go to the mall and stand there just like a dummy—indeed in perfect alignment with the other mannequins—and he fooled all of them. No one noticed he was a human being trying to fit in. They told him his hand should grow, that he should never be ashamed, but they really were in fact ashamed. With time he became the hand. No size of glove could conceal it, even the one with decal venereal kittens on it. “It is just like Mickey Mouse’s”, one man said, “but somehow terrible”. His family wept, but he was never so sad about it as they were. Then the hand was all at once like a russian doll: even when the doctors removed it a larger one would be sitting in its place. “My hand is somehow beautiful”, he cried while dying, the thing weighing more than a large museum piece, crushing his body, making him suffocate, “but you never figured out how.”

Editing stage: 

Comments

This is a prose poem.

author comment

like a bad dream, from eating too much candy! Great story, how about a hand for the Hand? ~ Geezer.
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