Eugene Hardie

Feb. 26, 2021, 9:09 a.m.

Blame it on the Man

“Yeah, yeah, something just like that” Eugene said thoughtfully, and quickly picked up the sheet of paper which most resembled orange vomit, a pencil, and then began to sketch. Eugene’s thinking had been trapped in Sad Clown territory but Elliot was really shaking things up with his contributions. Sad Clown stuff was for when you fell off your bike or sprained an ankle but Norah didn’t need a ''Get Well Soon'' card she needed a ''Our Relationship Is Dead'' card.


And what better way to say that than with images of death and disease?


Elliot always had the best ideas. Eugene was glad he’d come to him.


Eager for more input, Eugene tilted the page so Elliot could observe his work and an image of a fish began to form in the vomit-sea, but it was not just any fish; it was a diseased fish. Its scales were flaked and rotten, its guts had spilled from a gash in its carcass and a crazed eyeball hung free from its face connected only by a thin line of flesh. It was, in Eugene’s unbiased opinion, a beautiful depiction of a relationship's end.


“What do you think?” Eugene asked Elliot, as he obscured the fish’s iris with a heavily shaded cross. “I’ll draw a few more alive versions so that I can magic it to show the progression from alive fishy to dead fishy - ending with the eye popping - but put a sparkly hat on it to keep the party atmosphere.”


“Well, technically, we haven’t broken up yet,” Eugene said in response to Elliot’s question about Norah. "That's what the card's for." Suddenly struck by discomfort he pulled his glasses from his face and began to wipe the lenses on his sleeve. "I guess it never really felt warm enough to be a paradise - Norah's really cool and like the nicest - but she doesn't give me any stomach flutters, y'know?" He slid his glasses back on and glanced shyly at Elliot, keenly aware of the flutters now taking his tummy by storm, and wondered if Elliot could sense them too.