What’s Prodigal Mean? by Bogdan Dragos

Image Source: Canva

he felt a bit guilty

about it

but just

a bit

He knew

it was wrong to

be happy

when father came home

drunk

and stupid

but it was the only time

when mother

came to sleep

in his room,

“because your father

needs to cool

off,” as she put it

It was a good deal

because she

slept in his bed

and let him

suck on

her breasts

and told him

stories

“When I was your age,”

tonight’s

story went,

“I slept in a closet when

daddy came

home drunk. And my only

friend there

was a hanged tie

that looked like

a snake. I would stand on

my toes

and whisper in its ear, tell

it about my day,

about how my life

sucked

and how daddy beat me

and mommy

didn’t want me around either.

The snake tie listened.

It listened to

anything, everything I

had to tell it.

And for me that

meant the world. I fell in

love with the

snake. He was red. Crimson.

And shortly after

we began kissing in the

dark. It was

exciting. The snake

smelled like

my father so I eventually

got him down from

there and put him

around

my neck

and morning would find

me with his tail in my

mouth. It was

enough to make

me happy at that time.

But after my daddy died,

mommy didn’t

even want to let me keep

his tie.

I had to find something else,

so I was determined

to find something

better.

I began stealing clothes

from my mother’s new

boyfriend.

They too had a unique

smell, but

it wasn’t as good as

daddy’s.

And it wasn’t long until

he caught me.

Well, I told nothing but

the truth. Said that

I stole his clothes because I

liked the way they smelled.

He was kinder than

my daddy

so he didn’t mind sharing

his smell with me

from up close.

By inviting me to sleep

in his bed every time

mother worked her

night shift.

I was pretty spoiled as

a child.

Maybe that’s why I’m

spoiling you

now.

But you’ll grow out of

this. Soon

mommy’s company and

stories

and breasts will interest you

no longer.”

“No,” he said. “That’ll

never happen.”

“Oh, you’re cute

when you deny. But

I know better.

I give you… Um, maybe two

more years of this,

no longer.

You’ll be fifteen years

old, darling.

Another boy entirely.”

“I don’t wanna be

another boy.”

She laughed

softly. “Oh, don’t worry,

darling. You’re

gonna be fine. I’ll always

be with you. Even if you go far,

far away,

I will never tire to

wait patiently for your

return.

By the way, d’ you know the

story about

the prodigal son?”

“What’s prodigal mean?”

“Ah, close your eyes

then. I’ll

tell you.”

-BOGDAN DRAGOS

Bogdan Dragos supervises casinos for a gambling company, working twelve-hour shifts locked in a dark office full of TV monitors. There he mostly daydreams and writes poems and stories. He also manages a poetry blog Daydreaming as a profession.

We would love to read your work. Interested? Please READ our SUBMISSION GUIDELINES.

-MASTICADORESINDIA