Deamons

Chapter 6 The Land of Mean Mothers part 1

The Land of Mean Mothers

"Well I know how I controlled my boys," Starke's babysitter says to his mother. "No ma don't tell her that. He's such a sweet boy. He don't need to be scared like that," Brenda pleads. Her mother starts to explain despite her daughter's disproval. "Ma please!" Brenda begs. She is always so warm and loving to Starke. "Oh, what is it? Tell me, please," Starke's mother begs. "The land of mean mothers. Have you heard about it?" Starke's mom shakes her head no.

"It's an Irish folktale. Kids that are bad and have good mothers, like you. Have their mom replaced with a witch from the land of mean mothers. Then their mom then goes to live in the land of mean mothers. The witch mother that takes your place looks just like you. Works like a charm. You only have to do it a time or two and they change their tune alright." "Oh, please don't do that to Starke. Please don't. He don't need that," Brenda beseeches her mother. "Oh no he's been acting up. He needs a little taste of his own medicine. Besides too many people have the nerve to call child services on you these days if you hit your child. This is perfect. I can't thank you enough for sharing it with me." Brenda looks as if she were going to cry. Starke's mother stares at her as if Brenda makes her sick. Brenda's mom chimes in, "It's awful how people don't mind their own business. If I got called on every time I had to raise my hand to one of these boys they would all starve. I would never be home to cook for them. Be in the hoosegow me whole life, and they and the world would suffer for it. You use that land of mean mothers though. He is young enough. It will work like a charm on him."

For good measure his babysitter leans over to the boy while he puts on his coat. "Now Starke you love your mother, don't you?" she asks. Starke affirms he does by squeezing her leg as he senses something dark and cold creeping in. "Well if you don't treat her right. Rub her feet, pick up the dirty clothes, get whatever it is she needs then she gonna get replaced. They'll come take her away. Put in her place a witch from the land of mean mothers, and nobody will be able to tell the difference. The witch will look just like her. Be the spittin' image of her only she will be mean. So mean you'll wish you never treated her bad. You want that?" His babysitter asks. "Oh, I wish you wouldn't do this to him. Starke is such a good boy. Please," Brenda asks. "Hush. This isn't your business Brenda," the babysitter scolds her. "But ma." "Hush!" her mother insists then continues. "Now make sure you be good," the lady says twisting her head around his mother's thigh to see Starke where he is trying to hide. Her gaze bores right through him. Something has changed right then in that moment. He wonders if his mother has already been switched out.

"I like this lady," rejection says licking his lips. "This boy doesn't listen to us enough. When no one pays him attention he cuddles with the dog. Kick that fucking dog that's how you feel better. When he wants something, and can't get it he waits, or distracts himself with something else. Instead he should be stealing that shit. Really pisses me off that he keeps thinking for himself instead of listening to us. We will see how bitch-boy handles things now," Rejection preaches to Envy who is coming to despise the boy more than is natural for a deamon. In fact, all his deamons are growing impatient. Apparently, the more gifts a person has the hungrier the deamons are, these deamons are complaining they are starving.

"You guys don't know starving," Rejection chastises. "For centuries I wasted away in hell and no one gave me a morsel not even Satan his dark self." "You seem to be doing just fine now," Envy remarks. "Horribly well," Addiction chimes in, "when is my time gonna come?" "Your time will come. All of your times will come! We will all feast in time and when we do remember who is in charge here. So no one jump off and into another body. I have need for all of you. The great feast will be well worth it," Rejection proclaims.

Starke pushes away from his little dinner table. He picks up his plate, utensils and cup. Then marches over to the sink where he gently places them inside. He ascends the steps towards his room where he changes his clothes and makes ready for bed. He prays the story his babysitter told is not true. If only children's humble wishes were answered childhood might be all so grand.

His mother calls, "Starke." Her voice a whiney a cackle hardly sounding like her. He hopes if he ignores her she will forget about him. He runs his bath water. The noise will give him an excuse as to why he does not hear her. Perhaps his father would come home and she will be distracted.