Incarcerated and Otherwise Locked Up
© KJ Hannah Greenberg
It had long since ceased
to be novel for Charles, the “scaly lad,” to read Dr.
Hichkins’ publications. Not only did the psychologist limit
the young chimera’s access to select districts, within the doctor’s
universe of treaties, but it was also the case that Charles wanted
to peruse the prose of the woman with whom he was, at least cognitively,
smitten. Charles really would have preferred to read Doris ’
The young beast sighed as he looked through the window, across the
commons, toward the mailbox where he had once made his home. That
postal carton graced the yard of the cottage where his beloved human
rested a burgeoning belly.
Near Charles’ cage, seated on a plush chair, Wilson , the father
of Doris’ unborn child, yakked about the path he and his companions
had traveled across the dunes of the Dasht-e Kavir Desert . As for
the challenges presented by that terrain’s night winds, ergs
and sand seas, experientially illiterate Wilson said nothing. Charles
snorted and wondered aloud why he was the creature regarded as mythical.
Had Doris, instead of Wilson , benefited from such a lavish expedition,
she would have typed up volumes about the land’s rose and silver
silicon and about its tempestuous heat and cold. She would not have
slid into egocentric rantings, as had Wilson , but would have
Jailed, within her journals, wilderness image colored with such vivid
verbal hues that their likenesses would have screamed to become communicated
mentations. Only Doris could transform a Middle Eastern wasteland
into a sumptuous word painting. Hichkins’ son, Wilson, on the
other hand, was challenged when attempting rhetorical connect-the-dots.
Such ambitions of Charles’ were moot. Both he and Doris, respectively,
were imprisoned. Though Charles had successfully evaded Dr Hichkins’
embrace by keeping his earth-bound hidihole cloistered (albeit his
arboreal habitat had been divulged to the hamlet’s residents),
Charles had, in the end, been snagged. Analogously, for a similar
span Doris had successfully kept her condition a secret from her mother,
despite the fact that her tastes in foodstuffs had become weird. Thereafter,
she, too, had been caught.
To wit, Dr. Hichkins had tied the chimera’s wings with high
performance, non-asbestos silk, a fiber which resists shrinkage as
well as cracks. Unceremoniously, Hichkins had stuffed Charles into
a confine once belonging to Wilson ’s hamster. Similarly, Mom
had used high performance, non-reflexive guilt, which resists witty
repartees or other snarky counterarguments, to secure her daughter
into their home’s guestroom. Mom had likewise cut off Doris
’ access to the Internet.
Meanwhile, Dr. Hichkins was healing from the second and third degree
burns that resulted from his assault on Charles. Correspondingly,
Mom was mending from the rhetorical fires that resulted from her emotional
mugging of Doris .
In the interim, Wilson seemed oblivious to the plight of either soul.
He did nothing to free the wee, reptilian creature or his pregnant
girlfriend. Rather, when Wilson was bored, which was often, given
his limited intellectual prowess, he tugged on the nostril piercings
by which the immature multi-headed brute was affixed to the hamster
wheel or tugged, via old-fashioned epistles, on the emotional piercings
by which the immature scholar was affixed to Wilson ’s toy of
The restraining cords, which tickled and hurt Charles, remained resilient
to any flame the dragon-like creature could make. The restraining
words, which only hurt Doris , prolonged her newfound inability to
deconstruct double binds, despite her record aptitude in verbal swordplay,
suasory kung-fu, and dialectical, high speed combat.
Even such torment wearied Wilson . He sought fresh diversion in the
filled undergarments of Beatrice, a casual friend of unborn child’s
mother. When that pastime, too, became stale, Wilson asked Hichkins’
to observe Hichkins’ experiments on Jessica, Charles’
Although Jessica was insatiable, willingly to literally devour Wilson
’s father’s troublesome clients, Hichkins had no qualms
about experimenting on Jessica’s hide, eyesight and larynx.
Hichkins was so obsessed with understanding how the critter functioned
that he allowed indifferent to wall him from the young chimera’s
Eventually, Jessica lost her tolerance. As she untied her brother’s
tethers, after bathing Hichkins with fire, she commented that individuals
of Hichkins’ ilk lack the ability to comprehend that no chimera
is possessed by any mood disorder. The psychologist’s claims
were entirely fluff and nonsense, according to Jessica’s best
research. It was not his painful pokings and proddings as much as
his questionable science that at last drove her to give up her role
Wilson called an ambulance. Jessica reconnected Doris to the World
Charles, too weak for flight, wobbled around Hichkins’ library.
He groomed all manners of eolian debris from his wings and strutted
about some more. Doris , too hormonal to care, groomed all manners
of intellectual flotsam and jetsam from her email box and returned
to her rhetorical investigations.