My First Words (from The Man Who Could Talk)
by Eric Belgum
My First Words
It's a boy. It's a boyohboy.
How I was Born
"Whose girlexboyfriend did THIS? This kid is cerebral, he's D.O.A."
Wild doctor gesturing with secrets and scalpels and forceps. Cerebral blue sparkling for the first time. Father blue and girlexboyfriend hold onto the boy in flat voicedexbloodstunk.
"This kid is D.O.A. even as John Dillinger and others. Even as Jesus Christ Christ Christ."
Pause. Delivery room heads and eyes roll over and out. Pause.
"Nurse? This hospital really sucks me in. Nurse? It occurs to me that we're going to have to burn this whole place to the ground, even as Hanoi. Even as my nextdoorneighbor."
"The whole hospital complexdoctor?"
"Get me a doctor, stat. This.One.Is.Out.Of.His.Mind." Dr. Bugdoctor collects and prepares himself sterile for next patient.
Meanwhile, our unborn, Mr. Charles Clark Clark Clark well tucked inside Mother Clark Clark prepares for violent birth. Doctors later write in record:
"Even as Charles Clark Clark Clark was violent, a rocket propulsion birth, violent even unto the n-th order, even as Pompeii and Dresden, even as crab man, but that voice, ooh oooh ooooh."
Enemy obstacles prevent Charles Clank Clank's speech. Mother walls included. So let's now discard every pathway thing, discharge head, elbows, cuticles and cord of cords. Clark has the feel now and walks out with it. Walkout. Blastout. Break down neighbor's walls.
Breakdown walls. Baby ventriloquist coming through.
Charles Clark Clark Clark blurts onto birthscene with sparkling and clenched eyes and teeth. First words break through teeth like bullets and glass as doctors flee premises.
"Wham. Moooooo. Spank. Sparklers. Clacking. Rat-a-tat-tat. Clack. Clack. Raucous breakthrough. Sparklers."
Thank God. It's a normal birth.
"Is it a a a boy? Is it OK? Over," Mrs. Clark Clark to in-flight doctors from operating room in medical excommunicating with walkie-talkies.
"Mrs. Blast, your son is D.O.A. no no no I mean happy birthday to you both - snack-snack -" Walkie-talkies crack and snack. "The hemorrhaging about his teeth and gums is blocking our view, but ahhh, he - snack - he looks real flappy. Just real real crisp. Over."
"Pattern. Aztec. Pow-pow-pow. Joe Dokes. Over. Spankcord. Breakthrough cord. Clapping. Ladies in grams."
"He sure talks a lot doctor - snack-snack-snack - Over."
"You're god damn right, ahem, but we do see this kind of thing occasionally. Did - snack - you say 'Joe Dokes?' Over."
"Oh no," Mrs. Clark Clark pat pat pats the boy's head, "that was Charles."
"Racous. Breakout. Rat-a-tat-tat."
"What do these - snack-snack - words suggest Mrs. Flat, or I guess we can call you Mrs. Sharp Sharp Shark? Over."
"Please do. Motor grease - snack - escape route tampering - snack-snack-snack - um, let's see, Pompeii and violence involving jailbreaks at blank point. Over."
Doctors mark and jot as things happen worldwide.
"Thank you. We'll be locking you in the room until the - snack - bleeding stops, or at least until it slows up a little bit. JESUS CHRIST."
Doctors collect themselves.
"We just can't take chances on crime like that in our hospital. Your son is not we repeat not D.O.A. Over and out."
"OK. Thank you officer. Over and - snack - out."
"Pow-pow-pow. Forging. Raucous spankcord. Clapping and gassers heheheh. Rat-a-tat-tat."
Pat pat pat pat pat.