By Waseem Mainuddin
In a couple of months, she said, you’ll be able to have kids with Aminah over there, why you little child, Aminah is a negligent nanny, I half believe she fell out of her mother with her horns so crooked, but little baby Zainab doesn’t care, it’s only been 6 in a half months, and she already wants a family for me, I haven’t gone over the bridge, these people just let me roam in this grass…
The streets are scary, up there, though, I can’t see past the strays up there, though, when bhai roamed those roads he got turned to mutton before my eyes by those thought dirty to the “well known”, distant cousins of the dingo, their skin stretched over to reveal ribcage, on all fours, just like me, domestic, just like me, however hungrier, for little baby Zainab brought me boring bits of bread,
Little Bacha, Zainu-beta, her father held the husbandry industry hostage in this town, he kept the crowing cocks pecking at his first wife, the swamp bovine lackadaisical in their accompaniment to his second wife, and my kin and future prospects of matrimony left to the third and fourth,
I don’t know which one was Zainab’s, but those two were twins of terror.
when my apa bit Zainab on the leg, she, that mustachioed devil, with edema and ego, commanded every billy to go defile her, lining them up behind, tying her to the post…Apa passed with the child in her stomach, thank that western god,
and up there, it’s just a little hill, past the savage sentries, were the four houses next to the bridge, all owned by that tall, tall, human, when the first wife’s neck lost it’s taut quality, he married the second, and when her stomach was found to be barren, he married the third,
he hates her facial hair, because, he could grow no facial hair, and can, therefore, never hold the clear and well trodden path, as prescribed by the “perfect”,
but my smooth skinned face makes me the ‘adopter of the middle course, he told the fourth one, jestfully, lovingly, warmly,
maybe that was Zainab’s mother, i’m not sure, she was, however, the butcher’s daughter, skilled with knife and boti, and he, a tall, tall coward, loved her relentlessly,
but he loved Zainab the most,
kowli buckling, you’re not such a little baby after all, Zainab said, testily touching my testes, whether to make you a wether or not, she said, smiling, jestful, such a gentle touch, little baby zai,
in 6 months, we’ll give you 10 lovers. in a year and half, 25. and when you’re finally fully grown, my, you can have up to 40,
i never wanted a life of polyamory, but i was born on the farm, and every buck is made to fuck until he can expend no more,
they wait for buck power, a trial of our libido, so our apas can make their fresh milk,
It prevents consumption and helps you breathe, says the mustachioed, when she suckles down on a steel cup of it, it stays behind, highlighting the upper lip creamy yellow, with little black blades still peeking out, reminding you, she was not so fashionable like the butcher’s daughter,
The home for us had bamboo’d bottoms, cleaved by her callused feet with painted toes, she, a butcher’s accident, would brandish a blade before us, chagol, pagal, little goat neck, I’ll keep you all in check,
Because, when my apa bit pretty little zai, the shothrog saint came stumbling down, calling for her own appalling apa, Bhabi, Bhabi! Look at what happened to our pretty little babooli
Apa only used her dental pad, the gingiva buffer between maxillary and mandible, her diastema need not have broken skin, for the mustachioe’d heard Zainab scream, heard Zainab wail,
Acha, acha, acha, zai, zai, zai, get all the bhai it will be okay, grabbing apa’s mouth, keeping her bleating bottled up, nannie, why’d you have to do this? You made such good product,
On swollen shins, the dropsy drooped all over her legs, and in toil, she got up to tell her butcher bhabi, thank the western god the harvest is approaching. No rain for the fall fuck, just autumn’s glory. Can you take this jute? Tie the doe up,
Bhaiyah, bhai, brother, all eager at a chance for the seed, all took their time, felt the kid inside, billy bhai, billy bhai, we’ll let you die.
I was left for last, and apa was already dead at this point, bleating during the bleeding, Zainab’s tears didn’t stop until it was my turn, am I her favorite?
Kowli buckling, we have just you left. Weren’t you close with this one? You’re the most handsome billy of the breed. I know you never had your chance, let this be it, you have such a full life ahead of you.
Kowli coward! Can’t you just scratch my back?
Kowli coward! Were you not left with misfolded protein?
Kowli coward! My mouth doesn’t move the same anymore!
bhai bled and bleated through his newfound gait, Brother scratched the hair until he was bald, bhaiyah broke down…
“…Father, oh friend of that western god, do what you must with me, if they who can turn water purulent talks to you in your sleep, then your dreams are valid, won’t you climb with me to to the peak of recognition? Remember, it is also the mountain of mercy, so please just trust that western god, it is not difficult for them to take our world away, and put a new one in place, so why do you not listen, father, that western god tells no lies, and please bring your knife to strike me down, here, I have my own rope and blindfold, you can bound my legs, you can bound my arms, filicide is always a struggle, but no struggle greater than the denier whispering to your heart, so keep my eyes covered, it’ll make this easier…”
This was her first one, right Zainu? little spoiled brat of my husband, what concubine could have created such, she’s not the first, the second isn’t even an option and me, my daughter would be happy to carry on my trade….well, you’re a smart little buck huh? I’m happy you took a bite out of that bitches legs, I’d like to have seen the fluid droop from her dropsy, but, smart little black buck, Zainab’s favorite, I have to sharpen my blade, she’ll need some rope…
here it smells like my brother’s blood, and I can’t seem to move my legs anymore, there is no light to lead the way, just sobbing,
Zainu, Zainu, it’s easy, don’t be such a baby! The brand goes across the jugular and the trachea, but should take out the carotid arteries, the big ones, it’s so easy! Take his head and point him to that western god’s house, and remember to utter their name right before you drag it across!
Doesn’t that clean cut comfort you, Zainab?
On all fours, Mr. police officer told Madame Chowdury this wasn’t how you killed a man,
“What’s a man to me anyway? Just a dangle between the legs, no barbs like a real animal”
On all fours, mr. police officer was just like me,
“You fucked a barbed dick, woman ? You know you’re gonna turn like him, you’re gonna be like him, a little fucked up, a lot of blood lust, it’s no way to to live, Zai.”
On all fours, mr. police officer could only smell a sweet smell,
“Don’t talk to me like you’re my fucking husband. I have a fucking husband. I have a better lover, and really, you just…, I don’t have the use for you.”
On all fours, Mr. police officer, puts his head down to that western god,
“I’m a man of the law, I’m a man of my word, I won’t tell a soul what I saw,”
On all fours, Mr. police officer, saw the tip of her prickly, sharp tongue lick her butcher’s knife,
“You know, that western god told me, there’s that which we can’t deny, lest we want the disbeliever whisper sweet nothings into our hearts, I love a good sweet nothing, but, I don’t choose to upset that western god, usually,”
“What’s your fucking point, Madame Zai?”
“Tonight, I think I’ll break the rules”
On all fours, Mr. police officer, was bound in twine, and covered blind
“Tonight, I think I’ll indulge in swine.”