98 Wounds by Justin Chin Read Free Book Online

heretics at a wedding kissing the bride and groom with the familiarity of a sea bass, a proud clown hired for a birthday party. The hookers and their pimps sashay down the street and leer; the bookie counts his wad and jots witticisms he overhears at the race track down in the little black book he keeps taped to his inner thigh; the panhandler paints himself red and writes manifestos about the rise of communism, claiming with Baptist fervor prophesying that the hole-in-the-wreck bar down in skid row will be the site of the revolution which will wipe the world clean of its vile greed and potato recipes, and every weekend will be May Day and the children will be let out of school early so they can wash their state-approved pets and learn about the institutions, like marriage, that they will have to participate in eventually.
    The happy couple kiss under the banner of god and family and love; they will fornicate when appropriate, they will create litter upon litter of newborns, all with sharp teeth and bawling dispositions; each litter of carbon-copies even genetic engineering couldn’t have created any better who long for mothers and fathers and milk and money and meat. This, this cycle, is multiplied over and over, unquestioned; and the heretics for centuries to come will never be unemployed, nor want for any entertainment, nor any passion.
    This was what I saw.

M arriages
    1.
    My husband came home with The Clap. Actually, it was more of a standing ovation. His job in insurance has him traveling around the state to all sorts of podunk towns. It’s shameful that the public restrooms in so many of these places aren’t maintained to proper sanitary standards. The Surgeon General really ought to speak out about this issue. Use the toilet tissue to make a seat cover protector or use newspaper, I tell him, or squat on the bowl. But he never listens. On the positive side, the penicillin shots should help clear up the acne on his back.
    2.
    My husband and I have absolutely no qualms about public displays of affection. We often stroll down the street hand-in-hand, or arm-in-arm, gazing contentedly into each others’ eyes, not caring about who stares or gawks. When the mood strikes us, we might even embrace and kiss each other deeply and intensely. We’re not ashamed of our love. And if they don’t notice us at first, we double back and stand directly in front of them and kiss and make out and fondle each other, in a tasteful manner, of course. We believe it is important for others to see what perfect love looks like.
    3.
    When I got home, I discovered that my husband was possessed by an evil spirit, a horrible demon. I called the only exorcist that was listed in the Yellow Pages, but the earliest he could come was in two days. What could we do? We had no choice but to wait and tough it out.
    My demon-possessed husband yelled and screamed at me, calling me all sorts of hateful and mean names. Then he started smacking me around and throwing things at my head. He played twinkie porn loudly on all the television sets. He forced me to perform various vile and depraved sex acts but when I tried to kiss him, he would turn away with a repulsed look. He started calling his penis Neil, and his left testicle, Nigel. His right testicle refused to participate; Good for you, right testicle, I say. He, Nigel, and Neil would gossip viciously about me as if I wasn’t in the room. I’d walk into a room and find them huddled together whispering and sniggering and when they see me, they start giggling insanely and then I’d hear Nigel cackling from another room. How do they do that? The devil surely works in mysterious way among men.
    Actually, this was exactly just like it was in our regular life, except that he wasn’t trying to humiliate or belittle me in public or in front of our friends.
    When the exorcist came to our door, I told him we did not need his help after all, the demon had left and we were