My
boyfriend’s name is Ron. I bought him for seventy four thousand bucks to kiss
me, pamper me, and fuck me. He lives in my house. I feed him. I clothe him. He
lives for me and because of me.
He
gets up early to make me breakfast. Bacon and a well done egg, just the way I
like it. Toast. Coffee follows thereafter. The bittersweetness of coffee
remained unchanged over the last three years.
This
morning though,the coffee was plain bitter. The smell was more of a stench than
an aroma.
Ron,
is there sugar in my coffee?
He
didn’t answer. He stood frozen, facing the sink, eyes unblinking.
I
realized later on that the bacon was half cooked. The egg was more than well
done and had too much salt. There must be something wrong with Ron, I decided.
He might be in need of a little tweaking.
I
went to our room and pulled out a box from the closet. A little book that meant
everything to me and Ron and a smaller box made of plastic was all there is to
find in that box. I went back to the kitchen and walked up to where Ron stood.
Dear,
you’re cold.
I
faced him and kissed his mouth. It was dry. Cold and dry. I slipped my tongue
into his mouth. It was like licking ice. In subtle contrast to his coldness,
warm drops of tears had started to fall across my cheeks. I started sobbing,
shuddering.
Dear,
we’d have to start all over again. Again. You are my boyfriend. You aren’t
supposed to hurt me, dear. So why are you making me cry now?
I
opened the small plastic box, took a screwdriver, and pushed the reset button
on his nape.
