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THREE STORIES
CAVIN BRYCE GONZALEZ


*


There's a little ring-neck snake I've been observing for months. When I first saw him he was only two inches long. A tiny worm slithering across the pavement, basking. Soon he was almost six inches long. I felt comfortable enough to pick him up by then and on my way into/out of work I'd go look for him and pick him up and see if he was healthy. Sometimes I'd give him little bottle caps of water and eat lunch next to his favorite spot. And one day I was coming into work and I saw the ring-neck laid out on the sidewalk. His head was completely smashed, disintegrated—like there never was a head in the first place. Just a rotten smush attached to a long ribcage. I couldn't even move. I just stood there, staring down at him. My last brain cell murdered. Eyesight narrowing into blackness. Because that's always how it happens. You struggle and grow and survive, somehow, and then a boot comes out of the sky and smashes your fucking skull against the pavement.


*


There is a gecko which lives, primarily, in my bathroom. A flat, pink and blue translucent thing with intoxicating pupils and a slight, slight, grin. It is my favorite lizard in the whole world, which I do not say to disrespect the skink that lives beneath my fridge. He's a pleasant guest. Sure. Polite. But the gecko has a mystical quality to it. It's mesmerizing. At night I put on a small lamp and some honey/cereal on the bathroom counter. I crouch on my toilet and watch the ants, roaches, gnats—what have you, the fodder, come to the guillotine. The gecko creeps in from the darkness and eats and eats and eats. I remain crouched in the shadows atop the toilet, knees to my chin, completely entranced by the creature. He's so big now. When I first found him he was maybe an inch long, freezing outside on a winter night. But he's adapted well to the cool porcelain and granite of the bathroom. Growing larger every day. Eventually, in many many decades, I hope that he will open that smirking maw and swallow the entire world.


*


You know those plastic ringlets that attach six packs of beer and such? Well I cut them up every time. That's right. Not because I'm some kind of nature tuned druid or a saint with a golden moral compass. No. I certainly hold no compass. I did it originally because my ex-girlfriend told me too. She's a vegan, see, and she loves animals. She loves sea turtles, too, specifically. And one night while we were on a date, her with her big bottle of wine and me with my six packs, she saw me throw that ringlet away. She told me it might kill a sea turtle one day. And I remembered all of the stuffed animal plushies I had as a kid. Most of them were turtles. Sea turtles specifically. I loved those stuffed animals, and cried if I were ever without one. I thought about how the baby turtles survived scavengers and predators and made it to the ocean based on instinct and chance. So I cut up the ringlet. She was very impressed. We had sloppy, drunk sex and fell asleep. It was very peaceful. For the first time in my adult life, I thought that monogamy was genius. Monogamy was a blood oath. Exclusivity was a treasure. We were each other's people so we weren't ever alone anymore. Three weeks later I found out that she had fucked the guitar player of a local band, indie, probably, if you care, because on the night that she fucked the guitar player we got in a fight. Our first fight. Only fight, really, and it wasn't even a fight. Just a misunderstanding. Part of me hopes he gave her an incurable form of the clap. A strain evolved to be resistant to antibiotics and creams and lasers. Part of me hopes that he is an okay guy, because I want guys to be okay, you know? And I hope she didn't hurt him. And I hope he didn't hurt her. But I'll tell you what; I still cut those ringlets. Every single time. Because whether he's a good guy or a bad guy or whether I initially cut them to impress a girl or not, the sea turtles still exist. They were here before me and they will be here after me. They are innocent bystanders in all of our human games. And I love them for that, for their innocence, so I cut up the ringlets.