The Tumours Made Me Interesting (24 page)

“Are you okay, Bruce my man?” asked Arthur.

“I’m just dandy,” I replied. “Wanna know the best thing about all of this?”

This question was greeted with anticipatory silence, which acted as my cue to continue. “I don’t even have the tumours anymore. They’re all gone!” My statement was followed with more laughter.

“What do you mean?” yelled Belinda’s mother.

“One by one… they’ve all left my body. They’re already out there living their own lives. Fiona didn’t get them. You guys can slice me open all you like, but you aren’t going to find the tumours.”

I heard hurried footsteps approach the table I was bound to.

“He has to be fucking lying,” said Vince, who had finally joined the other two.

“When’s Fiona due back?” asked Arthur.

“She went to buy us all pudding,” said Belinda’s mother. “She’s bound to be back any minute.”

“Do I get any pudding?” I found myself asking.

“Probably not, Bruce,” replied Belinda’s mother.

I sighed deeply. My stomach was broadcasting all manner of implausible acidic transmissions. I wanted food almost as much as I wanted my tumours back, and not far behind was my desire for a cigarette.

“Can someone please give me a smoke?” I asked.

I’d barely finished my request before three cigarettes were wedged between my lips. I mumbled a half-arsed ‘thank you’ and patiently waited as the flames from the cigarette lighters worked their alchemy. I directed the accumulated smoke into my lungs with an eager inhale and waited for that divine intoxication to flavour my blood. When the intoxication hit, it didn’t feel the same. It felt like an intrusion and not something I invited. I could feel a layer of phlegm peel away from the wall of my lungs and form a ball as it travelled up my throat. It emerged from my mouth in all its revolting glory, extinguishing my cigarettes and rolled down my cheek. It hit the table with a muted splat, the cigarettes lodged inside.

“I don’t think I want any more cigarettes,” I croaked.

It was true too. Without the tumours to feed off the toxins, my body couldn’t handle it. It felt like the smoke had charred my insides. The others stood over me, their mouths contorted into expressions of disgust. The smell radiating from the phlegm ball was profoundly indecent.

“What say we go and play boggle or something until Fiona gets back?” said Vince.

They left me alone with my rancid ball of phlegm and giggled their way through word games.

The footsteps that approached me were full of anger and frustration. The heels from the shoe threw up an echo that refused to fade. Each new echo just joined the others.

“I don’t believe this for a second,” said Fiona. “They can’t
all
have left.”

“I’m just telling you what he told us,” said Vince. “For all we know, he’s lying. Either way, you’re handling it.”

Fiona bent down over me. Her face was so close to mine that I could see it twitch. I pursed my lips and gave her a kiss. She lent back and gave me a sharp slap across the face.

“It was worth it,” I said.

“Why have you taken it upon yourself to make things so difficult?” she scolded. “If you’d just followed the rules, this would all be over with and none of us would be dealing with this mess.”

“If anything, this is your fault,” I said, to which her eyebrows arched in reply. “You made my tumours so damn perfect that they left us.”

“You’re a liar, Bruce,” she said. “They haven’t left you. The readings I’m getting have weakened somewhat, but you still have tumours inside you.”

“Bullshit,” I replied.

Fiona foraged around in her handbag and pulled out what looked like an old Casio calculator. Upon flicking a switch, the device started to beep chaotically. The closer she held the device to my stomach, the more ferociously it beeped.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked with a smirk.

“I shat them all out back at my mother’s. There can’t be any left. I feel completely empty.”

“You know, Bruce… I believe you. I am convinced that you are convinced you have none left, but let me tell you… you do. Can I ask you, did any of the tumours you expelled earlier look different from the rest?”

“There was the guardian tumour… I remember it from the endoscopy, but the rest were just plain, old tumours.”

“And do you remember what the guardian tumour represents?” said Fiona with a chuckle.

In the absence of words, I slowly shook my head from side to side like clown heads at a carnival sideshow. Fiona’s chuckle grew and she positioned her mouth beside my ear.

“You still have the queen,” she whispered.

 I closed my eyes in order to achieve oneness with my body. I felt for whatever Fiona was talking about. There was warmth at the pit of my stomach, different from any warmth I’d ever experienced. The more I focused on it, the warmer it became. The warmth throbbed like a heart. My eyes shot open.

“Holy fuck… you’re right!” I said.

“The tumour responsible for all the rest… the most powerful of diseases.”

“Please don’t take it,” I begged.

I needed it within me. The more aware I became of its presence, the more I felt it. I knew intuitively that I had been in possession of this tumour for a very long time. This tumour was a remnant of a primordial self. The tumour was the heart that governed my heart.

“You have to know, Bruce… the reason we’re all here is because of that perfect thing inside you. We’re not leaving without it. How could you expect us to?”

Although directly in my line of sight, I stared through Fiona. I stared through the entirety of my existence. I perceived nothing.

“The four of us are going to eat some pudding, but we’ll be back soon with surgical apparatus in tow,” said Fiona. “Would you like me to put on some music for you?”

Her question was unable to penetrate my stupour. The sound of Eddie Murphy’s ‘How Could it Be’ swam from a nearby stereo, but to me it sounded like every song and no song I had ever heard.

I was left alone with my tumour and the music. I was about to lose something very important. The only consolation was that the extraction of the tumour would most likely result in my death. If a human has a soul, I believed what I possessed inside me was my version – my essence. Feeling how fundamentally linked to the centre of my being this tumour was, it struck me that I can’t be the only one. I couldn’t fathom a reality wherein each of us didn’t suffer from our own hidden disease and this disease shamelessly dictated our every response. The process of cognition which these tumours helped each of us develop was, by virtue, designed to obfuscate our core maladies. Life is merely a process of masking the fear that plumps us.

What ya thinkin’ about?
Said the queen within me.

“I’m thinking about nothing but you. I doubt I’ve ever truly thought about anything else.”

I’m surprised you managed to find me. With the others gone, I would have caused you no trouble.

“You’re the cause of all my trouble.”

That’s not exactly true. I’m merely a symbol of the cause. You were the one who put me here in honour of the cause. And you did everything in your power to give me strength and fostered my continued growth. I’m only here because you want me here.

 “Does that mean if I asked you to leave, you would?”

My tumour didn’t respond to this question straight away and I felt a pang of guilt for even daring to ask. But I was serious about the question and was prepared to wait for a reply.

Well… yes… of course I’ll leave if that’s what you want,
came the eventual reply.
But you should be aware of a couple of things. If I leave, I’m gone. And I don’t mean gone like those other tumours. I need you to survive and without you sustaining me, I’m dead. So basically, you’ll never have me back again. And it’s important to remember that you put me here for a reason. Without me inside you, you’re essentially starting from scratch. I’m everything about you.

The laughter sprayed from my mouth. Each heave of hilarity hurt my battered bones and empty stomach, but I couldn’t stop. It all made such perfect sense. I was responsible for everything I hated about myself.

“I’d like you to leave,” I said without hesitation.

Wow! Okay… I gotta be honest… I wasn’t expecting that. I thought that little piece of existential voodoo I just placed on you would actually give you pause for thought. But yeah… okay… I’m outta here! What can I say, it’s been nice controlling you! Catch ya…

Fiona and the others waltzed back into the room banging on about the joys of pudding and wishing for more. They wore smears of chocolate around their mouths and each had the glazed look of a junkie post-fix. Fiona tilted her head the same way birds of prey do and approached me.

“It nearly time, Bruce. I just had to make sure the little habitat I created for your queen was ready to go. I tell you, it’s lovely and I do plan to take very good care of her.”

She moved toward the side of the room and fetched a tattered, brown suitcase and visibly strained as she picked it up. After struggling it back to the table I was strapped to, she thumped it down beside me. Whatever was inside clattered like a washing machine full of forks. She made a show of unclipping the suitcase and slowly worked it open. She waved her fingers with an air of incantation, reached inside and retrieved a large tenaculum hook which she placed beside me.

“I’ll get one of the others to use this to hold your chest cavity open while I rummage about inside you,” she said wistfully.

Following this gnarly device, she retrieved several more, much more horrific devices. An artificial leech, a circumcision knife, a lithotome, a skull saw and a tonsil guillotine were among some of the more unsavoury looking artifacts.

“Don’t worry, Bruce… I won’t be using all of these tools. It’s all part of a set, you understand. Basically I just need something to slice you open and cut through any bones that might get in my way.”

I nodded calmly. I could feel my final tumour preparing to vacate. Metaphorical suitcases were being packed with everything I’d ever been, stripping me bare.

You’re absolutely sure about this?
It asked.

“I’m absolutely sure,” I confirmed.

“Who are you talking to?” asked Fiona.

I offered no answer and she didn’t push for one. She made some hand gestures toward the others that formed shadows against the wall. The others obeyed and slipped from my field of vision. Moments later, I felt the table I was strapped to begin to lift until I was in an upright position.

“Somebody cut away his shirt,” ordered Fiona.

Belinda’s mother appeared before me with garden shears and a nervous giggle.

“Belinda’s a good kid,” I said.

She looked at me with the curious eyes of a thawed caveman. Almost as if the name of her daughter meant nothing.

“Oh! Belinda!” she replied. “Belinda’s not really my daughter. She was just a good way to enter your life. I found her sleeping in a shopping trolley near your home and promised to buy her a lizard if she played along.”

“What about her real parents?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” she replied. “She claimed the shopping trolley was her mother.”

“That’s probably not true,” I said.

“Stop talking and start cutting,” said Fiona.

The woman I believed to be Belinda’s mother began slicing at my shirt. I shifted my gaze toward the crudely drawn cocks that covered the ceiling. I couldn’t tell whether they were fighting or fucking. As my shirt fell away, I felt the cold air against my chest, which sent a shiver up my entire body.

“Okay, Bruce,” said Fiona. “In most surgical situations, anesthetic is commonly used. Unfortunately this isn’t a courtesy I can offer you. I can’t risk sedating your body as it may compromise the integrity of the tumour. As a result, I can’t promise you any measure of physical comfort. What I can promise, is that when I have the tumour safely extracted, we will end your pain without delay.”

Before I had any chance to respond to her alarming news, a wooden mouth gag was forced into my mouth. The wood tasted rotten and crumbled around my teeth. The pit of my stomach, where the queen resided, began to emanate heat. I could feel a twisting sensation that, although uncomfortable, wasn’t necessarily painful. A howl of wind escaped from my arse.