Fred Aiken Writing

May 12, 2023

WASHED DISCREETLY (A DISGUSTING SERIES)

I wanted revenge. But not in a weird way, so don’t think it was weird. Unless you think not washing your hands for the rest of your life so you can get your enemies sick by shaking their hands is somehow weird. In which case, I guess you would be right and it is weird.

It started back when I was in seventh-grade health class. We learned about germs and bacteria, and how every pandemic that ever broke out was the result of one too many bad bacterias mutating from people not washing their hands until those bad bacteria metamorphosed into their secret identities of super big bad bacteria.

Either way, it spawned an idea.

At the time, I was being mercilessly bullied because of my short stature, my lisp caused by wearing a retainer, the thick Buddy Holly glass I had to wear, and because everything I wore was out of date, out of fashion, and out of luck.

In essence, I had every reason to be slighted. But I’m no mass shooter. I want the record to be very clear on that. I don’t have it in me to kill someone. At least not directly.

Now, if they were to shake my unwashed hand and get sick, you know, like a common cold or something, then I can live with that. Plus, scientifically speaking, I don’t know if you could for sure blame me entirely for getting my enemies sick. I don’t know how they live their lives. You don’t know, either. Heck, maybe they’re just as gross as I am and haven’t been washing their own damn hands.

Who’s to say?

Maybe we’re all living in a secretly non-so-secret sick world where no one washes their hands properly because they are also wanting to get back at unnamed, unknown tormentors.

May 11, 2023

FOOLS GOLD IN THE STRIPPER’S HAIR

fools gold braided into a stripper’s hair

to shimmer in the neon lights

that entice flies and moths and warbles

that circle the cosmos

looking for the right moment to strike,

or maybe a free lap dance

May 11, 2023

NON-SHOWER DAYS (A DISGUSTING SERIES)

It started as an accident. I forgot to shower one day. Then another. I kept forgetting, or at least that’s what I tell myself. That’s what I tell friends and family when they tell me they are concerned that I haven’t bathed in…oh, I dunno, I guess going on 3 years.

That’s not a record, by the way. I think there’s actually a guy that holds the Guinness record for the longest time someone has gone without showering. Something like 60 years, if I’m not mistaken. I don’t think I have that sort of discipline. At some point, I’m fairly certain I will cave.

But it doesn’t matter. Not really. I’m sure you’re just curious as to why and whatnot.

It’s simple really; I went over to a friend’s place one day and was riding up the elevator to get to his floor and some small twentysomething with tattoos all over her face and neck (which isn’t a super important description about her, but it was true and so why leave it out, right?) commented on the smell. She said it smelled like sulfuric eggs and sweaty garbage soup. Mind you, I had forgotten to shower for some 4 days straight at that point, so I didn’t think the smell was all that bad. Either way, she didn’t realize the smell emanated from me, but she acknowledged something about my existence that would have otherwise gone by without so much as two words shared between us. Not only did I feel acknowledged, but a small part of me, an irrational part of me, felt loved.

I realized from that moment forward that no one notices people when they’ve showered and cleaned themselves. It’s expected of everyone. We live in a hygienic society. To not bathe is a form of rebellion. I guess what I’m trying to get at is: Viva la puante.