And on the wind blew a rancid note (Salt #31)

He swept back his thick mustache with his thumb and index finger and looked to the west, then back to the east. His psyche was rattled, but never would he consider his physical being to be shaken. He had sweated through his fall vest, and felt sticky dry. His mental response to any physicality was sluggish like a geriatric spreading peanut butter on a bread slice. He slowly recognized The position of the sun above that said it was 4 pm. The exterior lighting was bright and appeared to have dark halos at the peripherals, and he investigated his glasses to see that they were operating at 100%. There was no defects in them besides a two thin hairs caught in between the left nose piece and the frame. The wind blew a rustic pineapple smell into his right nostril. His left was not responding.

His physical position now completely assessed in his mind, thoughts wandered into the events leading to his predicament: two local Jesuits and three Philippino dock workers had requested some samples and had brought him to their turf to shoot the breeze and discuss religious matters. The Jesuits were tied to the Phiillipinos by some religious link if he recalled correctly. They hammed it up and listened to old Bonnie Rait records that the Jesuits liked. Everybody crammed down pre-cooked hamburgers in the back of the warehouse and laughed. The end of the memory string came there, and now he's awake on a pile of fiberglass insulation, but not itching from the stuff. Groggy and feeling night swelling, he finds the back door and gets to right here. He's willing to put it behind him and ask no further questions. He walks to get back to home. He hears a hanging organ note that seems to come from within him.

A smallish lizard seemed to threaten him and groped a tree branch near his ankles. Lizards are a threat, and so he kicks at it. A slow, pointlessly deficient kick was met with a searing pain ripping up his back and around to his sternum. Tingling is noticed in the arms and legs. He stops, and hears a far off set of the organ musical notes. To him this proves nothing regarding the long-standing note heard previously. He loses his breath momentarily then breathes heavily for several more. Dull pain is absorbed into his cracking bones. He watches the lizard escape and respects its understood agility and vigor. He wishes he felt it in himself. He swallows hard and feels some reorganization of things within him including his dry tonsils sticking to his esophagus. He fears salmonella in beef as a rule, and now it was a distinct possible reality. He gagged at the thought and tasted only rust and mouth crust. The dark peripheral halos turned a yellowish hue, then green, then became his complete vision. He grabbed for his left side. The sticky sweat was now fresh blood mixed with clear viscous fluids. The sun was nearing the horizon now, and a truck kicked up a dusty wind that stuck to his person. He pulled off the vest and undershirt and the true horror took hold. A great fear, a deep and panicking fear set in. The fear caused a surge in adrenaline, but that's only false life. Even shock was not possible in his realized physical state. Sloppy incisions clearly made with dull instruments appeared: taped closed only. Voids in his mid-section were noticeable! He still had his left and right lungs, his heart, and probably his brain, but the presence of all other organs were in question. As if he might be able to tell if they were there, he began to press frantically on himself. He wept a concentrated salt tear and breathed more heavily. He felt helpless anger and the feeling of dropping blood sugar, although eating an apple or licking some glucose gel would not bring any satisfaction.

"How long can I live without a liver? How long without kidneys? A stomach? A bladder? A spleen?"

He was not a man of science and so had no answers. He fell to his knees and saw hot, thick, dripping blood clot near his left nipple as it rolled towards his face.

With nothing else left, the human body and mind will react in strange ways. In this case, the only mechanism was light, brief laughter and a crooked smile. He fucked with the Phillipino Jesuits and he paid the price. They harvested him for everything he had and they stand to make a good sum of cash. He regretted his choices as a man, but it was no time for that. Now it would all end: him as a partial man without the dignity of dying with his innards. For that there is no consolation, only an intense crushing pressure just above his hip that flowed into his mid-spine and seemed to split him in two. The halos went to complete black. 000000.