You hold up the half of the Ken doll that’s useful for all of the tea party to see. You tied their hands behind their back to make sure none of them could cover their eyes before you turned on the electric carving knife. You wait for your father to sleep to slip the useless half beneath his bed.
You want to breed chainsaws to see how their children turn out, what they would want to teethe when their gums ache. You read somewhere chainsaws were invented for correcting limbs but society weaned them from their blood thirst. You would be ok if the baby chainsaw takes a finger or a toe from you. You’d put it in its baby book so you can show the teenaged chainsaw’s first girlfriend what your adopted child cut through growing up to embarrass it.
See That You Remember
The man with chainsaw for arms waits for a date outside a pizza place. The town is used to the man since he grew up there so he knows any stares he gets is from little kids or from people who aren’t from around here.
How did it happen, the man’s date asks, points at his arms. He pecks at the pizza, waiting for a better question.
J. Bradley is the author of The Adventures of Jesus Christ, Boy Detective (Pelekinesis, 2016) and the Yelp review prose poem collection Pick How You Will Revise A Memory (Robocup Press, 2016). He lives at jbradleywrites.com.