Not Forever, But For Now by Chuck Palahniuk EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Author:Chuck Palahniuk
- Language: English
- Genre:Literary Satire Fiction
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OTTO MAKES US WATCH A nature film.
In the nursery upstairs, Otto sits me down to watch a film about
Australia. About the wild animals of Australia. “Australia is horrid,” he says,
“the world’s not all Winnie-the-Pooh.”
We watch as a tiny baby joey creeps out of the mummy kangaroo’s
bottom. Its only hope of survival, according to Richard Attenborough’s voice,
is to climb the mummy’s fur coat. The poor joey, just a pink speck of a thing,
blind, hairless, clings with wet fingers to the mummy’s fur coat.
The Australian Outback spreads out all around them, horrid and
inhospitable, just red dust and awful homicidal maniacs and convicts. The
outcasts whom England won’t suer.
The twee little joey crawls up the outside of the mummy’s belly. Richard
Attenborough’s voice says she can’t help it. She’s merely a stupid kangaroo
and has no idea the tiny joey is even there, clinging to her. You see, the
mummy’s forepaws are too short. No longer than the arms of a
Tyrannosaurus rex. So even if the mummy gave a tinker’s damn she’s still
fairly useless. As for the daddy kangaroo, Richard Attenborough says, no one
has the foggiest notion where he’s o to. The daddy kangaroo, no doubt, is
having it o with a wallaby or a platypus down by the pub or he’s out
cottaging. Not that the daddy kangaroo gives a tinker’s damn, either. It’s just
nothing but Australia for a million miles in every direction, and the blasted
wind, and the tiny twee joey must go it alone.
It’s not so much as a booger stuck to the mummy’s fur. She won’t miss it.
The squirmy, pink thing must rescue itself. It shall die unless it climbs up
to safety in the mummy’s pouch. Sticky joey, shivering little joey. In the
pouch are milk and warmth and everything to meet the needs of a growing
kangaroo. And if the joey falls o, Richard Attenborough says, well… it falls
off.
Why, the bare, baked dirt of Australia must be fairly littered with helpless
joeys that fall o, and the unthinking kangaroos jump smack on them, and
the kiwi birds peck at them, but whatever the case the helpless things die
straightaway.
Otto takes my hand, and we hold hands as we watch the gooey little thing
stuck halfway between being born and growing up. I say that if the joey had
any brains at all it would crawl back down, into the mummy’s bottom. That
would serve her right.
And Otto says, “It can’t, Cecil.” Otto says, “That’s not how Australia
works.”
And we both watch the thing stuck in the fur like a messy piece of jewelry
is all. And we both hate it, the weak puniness of it, and we want to see it
dead if it can’t muster the eort to save itself. It’s just a squirming pink bug
it is, stunned by the vast sunstruck Australia all around it. Otto and I hold
hands and we want the joey to not die. And we both hate Richard
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