The memory came back to me, hauntingly. I remember, being the mischievous and clueless children we were, pulling off a grasshopper's legs.
"Do it Shawn!" urged Michael, my cousin. His hand gripped my shoulder, probably from the excitement.
"Hold on!" I said brushing his hand off.
"Are you really gonna do it?" asked Rebecca, my neighbor. Her blue eyes sparkle with interest.
"I bet cha he ain't gonna do it," Malcom snorted. "Cause he's too chicken to do it."
With that, Rebecca gasped and I'm staring at the green piece of small thorny stick. It was disassembled from the body in the heat of the moment. Everybody was speechless for a while. Without a moment's hesitation I took off the other one as well. Then, I held the two fragile twigs up in the air waving it like my trophy. Everyone applauded for me and I felt good about myself.
It was swift and easy-breaking the legs. At least, it used to feel that way. With two of the strongest legs missing, the miserable creature is, forever, stripped of its glory. Ironically, we enjoyed watching its weak form hopelessly crawling and suffering. The adults that passed by us just glanced and walked away. As if it's a norm for children to torture insects and animals. I sighed as the memory of that day fizzle away.
"Maybe that's just human nature," a little voice in my head ranged.
I tried to shake that thought off but it's useless. The more I tried the more persistent it grasped on me. Thoughts of how humans, from inflicting misery on little things, evolved to inflicting them on human. It's a cruel circle of life.
Then there was Sheldon, one of my most dependable colleagues. He was a kind natured middle aged man with two lovely kids barely five. We got along with each other just fine, even though, we met only four years ago. He's my best friend in both work and life. You would think a good person like him would have a happy life. It would have come true if it hadn't been for that sad tragedy. The swishing and hissing sound of the factory begins to fill my mind. It was just another normal work day. Nothing changed, nor did the daily labours become any more enjoyable than the toast I eat everyday without fail.
"Hey Shawn, how are you?" Sheldon asked with a wide grin, this is not the kind of place where you see lots of happy faces. I don't know how he manages to do that all the time. Maybe it's because his whole family depends on this job. Though, he's the only one who loves this job.
"You know.....just the same I guess," I answered not affected by his enthusiasm.
"The same cold response as usual, huh."
"Nothing but the best response for my high spirited friend," I said sarcastically managing a smile.
"Ah!" he chuckled. "So the pessimist finally smiled."
"I'm just a realist, Sheldon, nothing more." My tone was straight forward.
"Alright then Mr. Stuffy Pants care to join me for a round at the Jenna's tonight?"
Jenna's was the name of the tavern just around the corner of the factory.
"What's the occasion?"
A rare sadness clouded his eyes. Immediate realization struck me as I recalled his wife.
"It's that time of the year again huh?"
".....Yeah...it's been four years since she passed away..."
We shared many things about ourselves during these past four years. This was one of the core things among the many he told me. It was my idea to get him drunk in his sorrow whenever that day arrives. Now it's become a tradition.
