I'm the father

I'm the father



I woke up, sweating. My body was itching. All of it. The tips of my fingers especially. I had sprayed the room with anti-bug spray. It was a roach, mosquito and fly killer. That was enough for me. But there was something else doing the biting that night. I thought maybe I was allergic to something I had eaten that day. But no. Everything I had eaten, I had eaten before, with no allergic reaction. So something else was the cause of the itching.



I turned on the light and what I saw was a large amount of small critters on my bed. They were the smallest things I had ever seen. They were like black specks of sand. I could only see them because there were too many of them. A cluster of sand in hell. Then I looked at the tips of my fingers. Black specks everywhere as if an injection had pierced the skin. And a red dot of blood stained the pore. I wiped my fingers against my bedside table and the specks fell. Then I took the anti-bug spray and emptied it on the black, moving critters on my bed. They still moved. They were immune to the spray. Because, clearly, they weren't roaches, mosquitoes or flies.



I remember fainting at this point. A beeping sound in my ear and blackness just covering my eyes. And I fell. I woke up what seemed like a day later. I was looking at the ceiling. But couldn't move my neck. Hell, I couldn't move at all. I tried to move but it seemed as if my limbs had disappeared. And I couldn't even move my eyes either. I just stared at the stained ceiling. Then I heard a sound. A sound of a door opening. A door in need of an oiling. It creaked like a sinking ship. Then footsteps. Loud stomps. And something dropped. The taking off of shoes. And then I feel this heavy weight sink into my system. A very heavy weight just pour itself heavily on my body. But I didn't feel stiff. It's as if my body had changed shape. I felt soft like I could become flexible if this weight pushed deeper into me. Then I see darkness as if the weight fell on my face. As if it had joints. A human. I could see the hair, the ears, smell the flesh. Smell the sweat. It was a horrible feeling. A human being was laying on me.



Then I felt an itch. Small pricks everywhere. Small things jumping out of me. I was giving birth to these things. And these things, whatever they were, were seeping into the human that was now snoring on top of me. My eyes couldn't close either. And I couldn't breathe. I realized I didn't even need to. I could smell and see and hear but I didn't need to breathe. I felt immune to chemicals and atoms and what not unless they came into contact with my being. My changed being.



Hours later, the human wakes up and he calls someone. His girlfriend. I can hear the whole conversation. It's a filthy one and it's inviting sex. The man, he's trying to lure his girlfriend onto his bed, and I fear that he's talking about me. That would have sounded nice if I could see it or participate in it from afar. But everything's going to happen on me or so it seems. And what's worse is, that these small critter things just don't want to stop. They're moving around and I can't do anything about it.



So now I know. These things are bedbugs. So they're my bugs. They're in me. I share them. I keep them. I breed them. But I can't get rid of them until the springs in me still make me comfortable. I have no idea how they turned me into a bed. I suppose that when I had lived in my old apartment and I just would not change the forty-year-old mattress, it carried so many bedbugs that they just became a part of me. And they gave me this disease. They turned me into a comfortable zombie. A bed with springs and washing instructions. And a zipper. And a smell of sweat. And semen and piss. And crisps and dirty socks. And the worst of all - bedbugs. It's how I treated my bed. So karma has come to haunt me. I just hope it's a dream. Because I just heard the owner tell his girl that he's realized something about his sexuality. He's gay. And I have no interest in seeing what he'll do on me when he gets the chance.