A bad, bad feeling

Paulie was a skinny little kid with ginger hair and no friends. He lived with his mother in a ramshackle cottage on the wrong side of the tracks. His father had died in an industrial accident a few months after Paulie’s birth.

The kids at school teased him a lot. They called him “mommy’s boy” because his mother waited outside school most afternoons to walk home with him, or take the bus if they didn’t feel like walking.

Paulie’s love for his mother ran deep. She was always doing things for him, looking after him, helping him do his homework, stuff like that. And every year on his birthday she would bake him a cake and give him a present (even though they didn’t have much money) and sing “Happy Birthday” so that he could forget his troubles at least for one day.

Paulie knew the date of his mother’s birthday, but for one reason or another he never remembered in time to make her a present or a card. Her birthday would come and go and a few days later he would realize he had forgotten yet again. He would feel really bad about that, but only for a short while and then the bad feeling would go away.

One day at school it suddenly came into his head that it was his mother’s birthday that day. He was ecstatic that he had remembered. In art class he made a beautiful birthday card for her. He felt proud of himself for remembering, and he could hardly wait for school to end so he could hug his mom and wish her happy birthday.

When the bell rang to signal the end of school, Paulie ran out to the bus stop expecting to see his mother. But she wasn’t there. He was a bit disappointed, but he comforted himself with the thought of how happy she would be to get the beautiful birthday card he had made for her. He waited a few minutes, then started the long walk home.

“That’s OK” he told himself, “I’ll get home and give her a nice surprise, a big hug and a kiss and sing her happy birthday, and I’ll give her the card.”

But when he got home he found his mother lying on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood and vomit. There was a broken whiskey bottle on the floor, and the whole place stank. Paulie was very scared. He didn’t know what to do.

“Are you OK mom?” he asked.

She moaned in reply.

Paulie ran out of the house to get some help because they didn’t have a phone. He ran into the street and called out to the postman: “Help, help, mommy’s sick, I think she’s dying!”

But the postman said, “Sorry Paulie, your mom still owes me $200. I can’t help her anymore.”

Then Paulie saw the policeman walking down the street. Paulie called out to her: “Help, help, mommy’s sick, I think she’s dying!”

But the policeman said, “Sorry Paulie, your mom’s got a lot of unpaid fines. I can’t help her anymore.”

A fire-truck was parked on the street outside a house with a small kitten up a tree. Paulie called out to the fire-chief: “Help, help, mommy’s sick, I think she’s dying!”

But the fire-chief said, “Sorry Paulie, can’t you see we’re busy? If your mother can’t stand the heat, she should get out of the kitchen.”

Paulie ran back into the house, but his mother was already dead. He saw her in the air floating in a tunnel of light, and called out to her, “Mommy, mommy, don’t go, please don’t go!”

His Mother smiled sadly and said, “I’m sorry Paulie, it’s my time. Oh, but I almost forgot...”

Then she started singing in a soft, sweet voice, “Happy deathday to me, happy deathday to me, happy deathday dear Mommy, happy deathday to me!”

Then she was gone, and Paulie was alone in the shabby little house on the wrong side of the tracks.


eBooks by Cosmic Rapture
(for kindle, tablet, smartphone or e-reader.)

NIGHTMERRIES: THE LIGHTER SIDE OF DARKNESS. This so-called "book" will chew you up, spit you out, and leave you twitching and frothing on the carpet. More than 60 dark and feculent fictions (read ‘em and weep) copiously and grotesquely illustrated.

AWAREWOLF & OTHER CRHYMES AGAINST HUMANITY (Vot could be Verse?). We all hate poetry, right? But we might make an exception for this sick and twisted stuff. This devil's banquet of adults-only offal features more than 50 satanic sonnets, vitriolic verses and odious odes.

MANIC MEMES & OTHER MINDSPACE INVADERS. A disturbing repository of quirky quotes, sayings, proverbs, maxims, ponderances, adages and aphorisms. This menagerie holds no fewer than 184 memes from eight meme-species perfectly adapted to their respective environments.

MASTRESS & OTHER TWISTED TAILS. An unholy corpus of oddities, strangelings, bizarritudes and peculiaritisms, including but not limited to barbaric episodes of herring-flinging and kipper-kissing. A cacklingly bizarre read that may induce fatal hysteria. Not Recommended!

FIENDS & FREAKS and serpents, dragons, devils, lobsters, anguished spirits, hungry ghosts, hell-beings, zombies, organ-grinders, anti-gods, gods and other horse-thieves you wouldn't want to meet in a dark cosmos. Immature Content! Adults Maybe.

HAGS TO HAGGIS. An obnoxious folio featuring a puke of whiskey-soaked war-nags, witches, maniacs, manticores and escapegoats. Not to mention (please don't!) debottlenecking and desilofication, illustrated. Take your brain for a walk on the wild side. Leave your guts behind.