Princess
Marcy and her thirty-two-year-old son, Ricky, were sitting on the couch watching the evening television. In front of them was a small table with food, both on the plates and scattered around. The program was a soap opera that they rewatched numerous times. Cigarette smoke dimmed the already weak lighting. The peeling wallpaper was adopting the smell and color of years of incessant smoke and stale tired air.
“Miguel never deserved her! Disgusting cheating bastard!” Marcy shouted at the screen between taking a bite from a chicken leg and heaving the last drag from the cigarette in her other hand. She stubbed it out in a tray that was brimming with butts. The flaccid fat deposit on her upper arm swung left and right, following the motions of extinguishing the cigarette.
“Mama, do I deserve a girl like Maria?” Ricky’s eyes jiggled from the carpet to her face.
“Ricky, you are even more stupid than your father was. How can a Pisces deserve a Sagittarius?” Shocked at his question, Marcy scolded him. “How many times have I told you which signs don’t belong together? I accepted Bradley, even though he was a Libra, and look at what happened?”
“He died.”
“Worse, he made me birth you.” Marcy gave him an icy look. “Now I’m stuck with a simple fat boy who barely earns any money, and he just died. That card reader, Stella, must have read it wrong. I would have never accepted him if I had known it would make me end up on this pig farm with you. She told me that the man I was seeing at the time would bring me happiness, and he was the one. A good-for-nothing pig farmer.”
Ricky had heard all of this many times before. He knew that she would dive into a rant if he asked her if he was worthy of anything. While she spewed her thoughts on him and his father, he fixated on the burned spots on the carpet around her. The cigarette embers only burned it slightly, since it was damp and heavy. His fixation on the holes, dramatic voices from the television, and his mother talking somehow comforted him. Predictable, common and known, yet it felt like picking a crust from a wound, and letting it erupt like it hadn’t even started the process of healing. It was comforting, unlike his work, which he didn’t like much. The craft of pig slaughter was the only thing his father had taught him to do fifteen years ago, and it had kept him and Marcy fed since his death.
He was always afraid of pigs. Their eyes and skin looked almost human to him, as if they wanted to say something. It always felt like, if they ever did say something to Ricky, it would be something mean and hurtful. Since he was a boy, he saw them as malformed humans, bent on all fours without hands and feet, forced to rummage through mud, eating scraps and food remains as if cursed. It certainly made it easier to kill them, but he didn’t enjoy the process. The sows he liked a bit more, as they were peaceful and fed the piglets. He liked to name them, since they were in the sty for much longer than the rest of the pigs.
“Don’t be angry at me mama. Do you want me to go learn a trade that would make more money?” Ricky suggested, “I heard metalworkers earn good.”
“Learn a new trade? Hah! You barely learned how to butcher. Besides, after thirty you’d be too old to learn anything new, even if you weren’t so stupid.”
“I have to slaughter Princess tomorrow. That Mr. Clark called yesterday and asked me for a lot of meat. He is making a feast, and said that he will pay good if I can do it fast.”
“What did I tell you about naming the pigs? Don’t do that, it’s bad luck.” Marcy scolded him again.
“All right, mama, I won’t.”
Marcy stopped eating and looked at Ricky.
“I heard of Mr. Clark, he is the one with that new car?”
“I don’t know about the car, but he said he needed pork for the feast soon, and that he can pay well if I can get him that,” Ricky said.
“Well, you don’t want him waiting, then, do you? Go to bed so you can start early.”
“All right, mama, goodnight.” He stood up and left Marcy to her food and television.
Ricky never slept well. As a child, it was because of his parent’s constant fighting. He would curl under the sheets and listen to them shouting at each other in the other room until his mind diluted into dreams. Now it was more due to how damp the house was, which didn’t work well with his general health conditions. It rained often where they lived, and he loved rain. It felt as if it was a mask around him, shielding him from the outside world.
Since Princess was quite big and somewhat special to him, Ricky decided to skip the part where he knocked her out with a mallet. Better just to shoot her in the head with a revolver. He’d made that decision only a few times, when the pigs that were next in line for slaughter became dear to him. He wanted them to go out instantly, while enjoying their last meal, never suspecting what would happen. However, he didn’t have any more bullets, so he had to go to town to get some at the gun shop, and he dreaded going to town. The people in it gave him looks that he couldn’t really understand, but he was willing to endure them this time. Princess deserved it.
He drove his barely working van all the way to the gun shop. Upon entering he froze. The store employee was a woman.
“Hello! How can I help you?”
Ricky stood there, looking at her.
“Hello?” she said, again. Ricky approached the counter.
“Bullets.” He drew the revolver and laid it in front of her. She took a step back, forcing herself to not cover her nose to shield it from the cloud of stench Ricky carried with him.
“Umm… Okay, that’s a.38, we should have those, let me check.” She went through a cupboard to her side. “Here you go. The case costs forty.”
Ricky took out some cash and put it on the counter.
“What is your sign?” he asked.
“Excuse me? What sign?”
“I’m a Pisces. Mama says a Sagittarius can’t like me.”
“Oh, um… I don’t feel comfortable talking about that. Do you need anything else from the store?”
Ricky gave her another long look, took the bullets, and left the store. On his way back, he drove fast. He wasn’t sure why, but he had an urge to slam the pedal all the way.
After parking in the driveway, Ricky stomped through mud and puddles to the backyard, which had a pig sty, a freezer container, and a scalding tank. The odor would have been unbearable for close neighbors, but the farm they lived on was a good drive from the town center. The families that used to live around them had died of old age or moved to town, so Ricky and Marcy lived alone in the rancid miasma of pig stench.
The sty hosted around two dozen pigs, all farrowed by Princess. The piglets became giddy when Ricky entered, but the sow was sleeping on her side in the corner. The foul reek bothered even Ricky because he didn’t get around to cleaning the pig toilet often, which was the corner in which Princess was resting. Pigs usually avoid sleeping in their feces. They’d only do so if the mud they use to cool themselves wasn’t available or clean. Ricky was slightly nervous about that. He knew that he would have cleaned Princess’s corner if he wasn’t so busy with the constant slaughter. He would have loved some help.
Ricky took a thin stick and smacked Princess. She stood up and went outside, grunting all the way with each smack. He threw a bucket of slop on the ground in front of the sty. Princess gobbled and ruffled around the mud, while Ricky drew the revolver from under his apron, filled the chambers, and pointed it at her.
Then Ricky was looking at the hole in the pig’s forehead. The blood dribbled out of it, down her snout into the mud. He stood like that for a while. The view reminded him of the day his father died, because he’d also been slaughtering a sow in the mud.
Using a combination of ropes and hooks, he pulled the dead swine up the rack. Ricky circled the carcass, steadying its swing with one hand. He took a knife from his apron and sharpened it before cutting the artery on the sow’s neck. The red laminar flow gradually filled the container below the rack. It was during the exsanguination that his father had had a fatal stroke. Ricky’d found him face down in the pool of blood just like this one.
“Good morning, Ricky!” A gentleman’s voice greeted him, “We were taking our new wheels for a spin, so I dropped by to check if the meat will be ready on time. I hope you don’t mind my intrusion.”
Ricky turned around and saw an older, well-dressed man with a young woman beside him.
“Oh god, that’s disgusting!” The woman covered her mouth when she saw the blood flow.
“This is Charlotte, it’s her graduation party we are throwing a feast for.” Mr. Clark introduced his daughter. “Come on, cupcake; how else did you imagine this looked like?”
“Why would I ever want to imagine it?” Charlotte was visibly repulsed.
Ricky didn’t know how to react, “This is the sow I told you about over the telephone, Mr. Clark.” Turning to Charlotte, Ricky felt a wave of exhilaration because he realized he had something to tell her that she might like.
“Her name is Princess!” Ricky grinned at Charlotte while pointing at the bleeding carcass. Charlotte turned her face from it.
“I’m waiting in the car. I can’t watch this.” She turned around and marched back across the yard.
“I don’t think she’s ever seen a bleeding carcass. I guess it’s a natural response.” Mr. Clark chuckled, taking out a stack of cash. “Anyway, the word around town is that you are good and fast at what you do; hence, we decided to source the meat for the party at your shop. We are hosting some rather stuck-up people, so abundance is of utmost importance, as you can imagine. Here, let me pay for it in advance.”
“Oh, hello, Mr. Clark! Didn’t see you there.” Marcy’s voice called out from the window to the backyard.
Ricky and Mr. Clark turned to the window that framed Marcy. Her smile revealed her lipstick-smudged teeth.
“Good morning, missus…” Mr. Clark responded politely.
“It’s Ms. Marcy. My son told me you wanted some pork for the party. You came to the right place!” Marcy cackled. “My Ricky knows his way around meat. Why don’t you come in for a coffee?”
“Oh no, thank you, Ms. Marcy. I have to decline. My daughter is waiting for me in the car. I just visited to handle the payment.”
“Well, I see that’s not a problem for you.” She winked at his wad of cash. “Feel free to visit when you happen to be around.”
“Thank you for the invitation, Ms. Marcy.” Mr. Clark extended his hand toward Ricky, giving him the money. “You have my number, Ricky. Do give me a call when the meat is ready for pickup. Have a nice day!” He left the yard with a quick step.
As soon as Mr. Clark had walked out of Marcy’s line of sight, she turned her gaze to Ricky. Her mouth relaxed from a smile to a cold expression.
“How much did he give you?” she asked.
“A lot mama, look!” He squished through mud to bring her the cash.
“Better than the last sow. You have to pay attention to what I am doing. Did you see how he reacted to my invite? He immediately gave you the money. You have to learn to be polite and attractive to people.”
“Yes, mom.” Ricky nodded. “Did you see Charlotte?”
“The little slut that came with him? Yes, I saw her briefly.”
“Can she like me mama?” Ricky asked.
“No, they are rich, Ricky. But she looks like a Capricorn, that could work.” Marcy looked up. “Why would you even want her to like you?”
“She is pretty,” Ricky said with a grin, “And I would love some help around the shop.”
“Am I not enough for you, Ricky?”
“You are mama. I just thought…”
“You thought? What did you think with?” She tapped his head through the window. “I gave you everything I had, and you just go and tell me that you don’t appreciate any of it?” Marcy was furious.
“I’m sorry mama, I didn’t mean it like that. I just feel sad, and she seems like she could make me happy.”
“You don’t deserve to be happy yet, you fat boy. I am your mother, and you owe everything to me. I deserve to be happy. It is my happiness you should worry about. How can you be happy if I am not happy? Do you have so little love for your own mother? After everything I have done.” Spit formed white puddles on the edges of her mouth. “And you call her pretty? She’s just young! I was way better looking than her at that age.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you, mama… Please.”
“Go and finish your work. Don’t talk to me anymore today.” She turned around and disappeared from the window.
Ricky returned to the pig and found that the blood had completely drained. Accustomed to Marcy’s reactions, his work focus wasn’t derailed, but her words left a numbing pain inside his chest. He went on to scald the hair from Princess, which he did with a hot water hose, scraping the skin by hand. The next step was evisceration. As he was cutting up the entrails, he sliced at a lump he didn’t recognize immediately. Unexpected blood gushed out. He stuck his hand through the sliced lump and removed a dead piglet fetus from it. There were ten of those inside. The pregnancy was too early for him to be able to foster them. Ricky started hitting his own head for not checking if she’d been pregnant. Thoughts about how much Marcy would criticize him if she found out what’d happened were making him dizzy. He laid them out in the mud, wondering what he was going to do about them. It wasn’t long before he remembered that pigs will eat everything.
There was an elongated container for slop inside the sty that Ricky used to mix milk and oats. He took a big cleaver and chopped the piglets into small, unrecognizable pieces. Along with some of the sow’s fresh entrails, he smashed the pieces with a hammer and threw everything inside the container. All the other pigs from the sty gathered around and proceeded to devour the flesh sludge that Ricky just served them.
Relieved that he’d resolved the issue, Ricky went on to finish the rest of the process. He preferred to wash the inside of the pig and remove the head before storing the carcass in the freezer overnight.
Holding her head in front of him, he realized that he’d truly liked Princess. He’d never felt uncomfortable in her presence, and she made a few healthy litters.
“I’m sorry for your last batch of piglets, Princess.” Ricky knew the head wasn’t going to respond, but he felt the need to apologize to it. He put the rest of the meat into the freezer as he was done for the day, but he carried the head with him into the house.
The television was on in the living room, and Marcy was in her usual place on the couch, eating. Ricky put the pig head on the kitchen table and washed his knife and cleaver in the sink. He went to the bathroom to remove his bloodstained apron and wash his hands and face so he could try to apologize to Marcy.
“Mama, I’m sorry for earlier. Can I watch the television with you?” asked Ricky.
“Bring mayo,” Marcy uttered with her mouth full.
Ricky sat next to her on the couch. She was eating some leftovers, and Ricky stared at the bits? Morsels? of food dripping down her thick neck, staining her long blue gown. she wore. The the arm flab that swung as she moved her arms was making Ricky think of his work. There was a lot of fat there. She gorged on another piece of food so fast it made her burp right through the mouthful she was chewing. To Ricky, it sounded like grunts from the pigs that he’d feed before putting a bullet into their skulls.
“Mama, do you think that I will never have a wife?” asked Ricky.
Marcy looked at him in the middle of a bite.
“I know that you will never have a wife.”
“Why?”
“Because even I can’t stand living with you, and believe me, you will never meet anyone more patient and caring.” She threw the bone onto the plate.
“Princess was more patient and caring,” said Ricky.
“What did you say to me?” Marcy looked at him in shocked rage.
“Princess was gentle to her pigs.”
Marcy looked at Ricky’s hand and saw the revolver. He raised it to her forehead and looked into her eyes. They were the eyes he was afraid of when he looked at pigs. Black and almost human.
“Mama, you don’t remind me of her.”
The dramatic soap opera sounds reclaimed the room after the loud gunshot.
Ricky went back to the kitchen and grabbed the cleaver and the pig head. He went back to the living room and grabbed Marcy’s hair. After a few chops, her head was off, and he threw it on the ground.
He crowned the decapitated corpse with the pig’s head.
Reclining back into the couch, he looked at what he had done. Princess was sitting there with him: her pink head static, looking at the television, her fat arms relaxed on her sides. The blue dress was stained with dark red from the neck down.
“I’m so sorry for the piglets, Princess.” Ricky looked down at the holes in the carpet again. “I should have checked if you were pregnant. Mr. Clark offered good money, so I had to rush everything.”
Princess was motionless. On the show, Miguel entered Maria’s room through the flowing, white curtains of her balcony. Ricky turned off the screen, and they sat there in complete silence. Ricky thought he heard a snort, so he looked at Princess again.
“You don’t have to be sorry, Ricky, you didn’t know I was pregnant. I know you didn’t do anything to me out of malice,” said Princess. Her body was motionless, but he thought he saw her mouth move. “You don’t have to be sorry about so many things you used to feel sorry for, Ricky.”
“What about what I did to mama?”
“What you did just now will create a lot of change in your life, Ricky. The good part is that you won’t have to endure the bad things mama was doing to you. The bad thing is that what you did is a solution to the problems that are inside you that you cannot even begin to comprehend, they’re so deep inside. The iceberg of the issues you have to resolve may be too great for a single life.”
“She took care of me, and I did this.”
“I wouldn’t call what she did care. She fed you and clothed you so you could be her worker. There was no parenthood there. She never provided you with love and reassurance. She didn’t educate and socialize you well.” Princess’ss voice was calming Ricky. He’d never felt so at peace as he did listening to her.
“But she’d had a hard life, Princess,” said Ricky.
“She did. The hardest part of her life was the fact that she didn’t develop the capacity to understand the sources of all the issues that made her so bad toward you, so she could never even begin to fix them.”
“Don’t you think I can understand my problems?”
“I don’t know. You can try to deal with them one-by-one. That’s a big step. You have the chance to start becoming a good person, a strong person, in ways she couldn’t let you. You showed me kindness. You should nurture yourself like I would have.”
“But I killed you, Princess.”
“You did, and I forgive you. I cared for you. But I was a pig you bred for slaughter anyway. There wasn’t much more I could be for you.”
Tears burst from of Ricky’s eyes.
“Feel free to cry. You are safe now. Mama’s not here anymore,” said Princess.
“I am not safe. I’ll go to prison for killing mama, and I will never have a wife,” said Ricky, through tears. “I am afraid of women. They all hate me.”
“Reacting with anger and fear to something you don’t understand, and that is completely normal and expected in your case.” Princess’s grunty voice soothed Ricky’s sob. “If Marcy had done her duty and taken care of her child, you would have been okay. You’d have made friends and found girlfriends. That’s a long and tough battle you have to fight now. As for the prison…” Her tone changed from a calming to a more playful one, “Well, maybe. Maybe not? Nobody has to find mama’s body. My children would be more than happy to help you with that.”
Ricky wiped his tears, stood up and looked at Princess. She was silent.
He removed the Princess’ss head from her shoulders, put it on the table, grabbed Marcy’s head and dragged the headless body to the backyard. Deep into the night, Ricky was in his backyard, slashing, chopping and cutting his mother to pieces. Just as he did with the half-formed piglets, he stirred the meat pieces and crushed bones into the slop pit. As soon as he filled it, all the pigs eagerly congregated to feast, paying no mind to what the substance was. Ricky watched them devouring Mamma until dawn. Aside from the head, there were no traces of Marcy’s body anymore.
Ricky took Marcy’s head to the container where he hung the pig’s body. He stuck the head on the ass of the hanging swine, which was on top. He looked at the flesh sculpture and into his dead mother’s open eyes.
“Princess said you were not good to me.”
“You filthy disgusting boy, I wasn’t good to you? You have no idea what I sacrificed for you!” Marcy said with slow and guttural vocals. Ricky approached her and cut out the tongue from her mouth.
“Princess said that I can be a better person than you,” he told the head, and the empty eyes just stared at him, “You are pig slop now.” He proceeded to chop and saw the head into smaller bits, to feed to the piglets the same way he did with the body.
Upon returning to the house, Ricky had a big mess to take care of in the living room, but realized he was too tired and dropped into the couch. He fell asleep the second his head hit the cushion. For the first time, that he can remember, he truly rested.
In the morning, he scrubbed the house clean. There were no traces left of what had happened the night before. He spent the rest of his day on the usual jobs of halving the body of the butchered sow, slicing all the pieces, and packaging them like a professional.
Ricky went to the telephone and dialed Mr. Clark’s number.
“Clark residence?” a voice answered.
“This is Ricky the butcher. Tell Mr. Clark that his order is ready for pickup.”
About the Author
Vuk Spalajković is an artist, musician, and writer from Belgrade, Serbia. Currently focused on drumming for the dark ambient project Noetic Coil and writing short horror stories.