Little Boys

Rieneir wanted to spent some time alone. Away from his mother telling him to clean his room before Mr Rabbot arrived, away from his father inviting him to leaf up a tobacco roll, away from his little sister nagging him to play tarot; away from all people. The reason for his sudden feeling for the need of seclusion was because of a)even if Mr Robbot arrived they were not going to entertain him in his room for christsake b) nor did he like the smell of tobacco, c) and he felt was too old to play with his little sister anymore but most importantly d) he wanted to spent time with me.

He escaped to the place only he knew. His secret base. But don’t let Rieneir know that I told you. He is touchy about this kind of things, he may consider himself a grown up but to the rest of the world he was only a young boy of twelve.

I am his uncle. His secret base is my room behind little Rieneir’s closet. Only little Rieneir and I know about this place, nobody else, not even his parents or his sister.

One of these days i might invite her too.

He comes to me whenever he wants to be comforted. And I do that quite well, he likes spending time with me and I like spending time with him.

Oh, little boys, full of tender youth. How I love little boys.

Paranoid: Killing my DoG. Short Story .

I woke up at 10 today and I’m bored. He has nothing to do. I have nothing to do. I realise holidays are such a bore. You’re so free you don’t want to do anything. Is it just me?

I know you too have those thoughts. I think i’ll kill my dog. I wonder how’d that go; Wringing the life out of that ball of happiness.

Keeper would never see it coming. He’d just come wagging his tail if i call out to him. Blind faith that. We love that shit don’t we?

Then i’d pin him down. Gently at first, then steadily, then slowly slide a sturdy grip on his neck. I’m sure his tongue would be out and his black eyes penetrating your soul.

So black and so innocent and so full of trust. Blind faith, i love that shit.

But will he know when my friendly grip on his neck turn doubtfully strong?

Will he still trust when it finally becomes abnormally hard to breathe?

Will he doubt?

Will he bark?

Will he cry?

And god forbid will it try to bite me as it gaspses for a drag of empty air?