CLEARING UP THE TRUTHS AND MYTHS SURROUNDING THE ESSAY "A MOTHER’S LOVE"

Source: Tommy Gazelle, Junior FNE Recruit

 

To fellow FNE members, I am Tommy Gazelle, one of the newest members of "THE FÍSICO NUCLEAR EXPERIENCE." I was quite alarmed when I received a chain e-mail from a friend from school. I'm sure many of you have gotten these: e-mails that tell you a heartwarming and life affirming "slice of life" story. Normally, I enjoy these anecdotes, especially when I'm having a bad day, and like the e-mail suggests, I forward them to all the friends I care about. They help us remind each other of all the things we should be thankful for.

On the other hand, I received several of these e-affirmation that troubled me. It was entitled "A Mother’s Love," which delivers a moving account of a mother who makes a great sacrifice for the well-being of her only son. While there is some truth to the story, the traditional version is somewhat exaggerated. I know this because my uncle James, he was working as a surgical trouble shooter at Loma Linda to pay for his Doctorate program in Xenobiology at UC Riverside, and he was there when this story happened, and he worked on the operation. He said whoever posted it on the Internet white-washed it big-time, so my uncle and I are here to set the record straight, to tell the story as it REALLY happened.

"Can I see my new baby?" the mother asked. When the bundle was placed in her arms and she unfolded cloth to look upon his itty-bitty face, she gasped. She brushed her long red locks from her face, blinked her eyes, and gazed closely to make certain she saw things as they really were. The doctor turned quickly, bit his knuckle, and looked away.

Her son had been born without ears. Time proved that the baby's hearing was perfect. It was only his appearance that was marred.

As he grew up, he would rush home from school one day and fling himself into his mother's arms after being teased by mean schoolmates. Mother would choke back her tears, knowing that his life was to be a succession of heartbreaks.

Mother’s arms were a safe haven for him throughout childhood. He would often cry in her arms until her tender voice lulled him into dreamland. The last thing he would see before dozing off into blissful sleep was the sight of her beautiful long red hair flowing upon his shoulders. Her voice was spiritual warmth, her lovely locks like a warm blanket.

He grew into adolescence, strong despite his misfortune. He became a favorite with his fellow students, and he might have been class president, but his appearance still made a number of people uncomfortable. He developed a gift, a talent for literature and music. He kept a stiff upper lip most days, but some days brought him close to a complete emotional breakdown.

And then one day somebody finally succeeded in breaking his spirit.

He bolted into his house, sobbing to his mother over the incident that transpired. "A man ---a really mean big man--- asking people for change and cigarettes outside the grocery store... he called me a disgusting freak! A Satanic mutant from another world!"

Mom and Dad knew something had to be done.

The boy's father had a session with the family physician. "Isn’t there anything we can do?"

"I believe I could graft on a pair of outer ears, if they could be procured," the doctor decided.

The search began for a person who would make such a sacrifice for a young man, but they had trouble finding a matching donor.

Then one day his mother threw her arms around her son, and said joyfully, "You are going to the hospital, Son. We found someone who will donate the ears you need."

"But it's a secret," said the father. The operation was a brilliant success, and a new person emerged. His talents blossomed into pure brilliance, and every scholastic and athletic endeavor became a series of triumphs. Later he married and entered the diplomatic service. "But I must know!" He urged his father, "Who gave so much for me? I could never do enough for him."

"You are right, Son, there is no way you can repay such a generous gift," said the father, "but the agreement was that you are not to know..... at least not right now."

Over the years they kept their profound secret, but the day did come ... one of the darkest days that a son must endure. He stood with his father over his mother's casket. Slowly, tenderly, the father reached forth a tembling hand and raised the thick, reddish-brown hair to reveal that the mother -- had no outer ears.

Tears filled the son’s eyes. "Mother...so it was Mother who donated her ears, so that I may walk amongst my friends and loved ones as a normal, everyday person?"

"No son," whispered his father. "Like you, Mother was also born without ears. We knew when she was pregnant with you that we ran the risk of you being born without earlobes too, but we hoped for the best." The father looked around to make certain nobody was within earshot, and looked his son directly in the eyes, "Remember that lunatic who called you a freak years ago?"

The young man nodded.

"Mother found him a few weeks later, asleep behind the grocery dumpster. With the grip of her radioactive hand, she slowly melted his innards. He wailed in agony, and died a slow, painful, messy death. She then dissolved his entire physical essence, save for his outer ears, which a surgeon fused onto each side of your head. It’s the drifter’s ears that you bear, my son."

"What???"

"Mother came from another planet, Son; a planet where earlobes are things of fiction. She walked amongst us like any other being, save for her freak-show lack of ears...which I found to be a huge turn-on. That is why she wore her hair long; to thwart any suspicion from nosy military Area 51 types."

The young man felt dizzy, nauseous, and suddenly began shreiking like a banshee. He grabbed onto his ears, and tried desperately to rip them off his head.

"Pull hard as you like Son, you cannot disconnect the ears of the drifter. You must walk with them for eternity, and every now and then hear his disturbed soul say weird things to you. He was smarter than we originally thought."

Trembling, the son concentrated on the palm of his right hand, and saw it produce a feint orange glow.

"You are only half Extra-Terrestrial, Son. You have just enough radio-activity in your grip to warm a blueberry muffin, but not enough to disintegrate evil-doers. Mother said she was glad she never let her hair be cut," he whispered gently, "and nobody ever thought Mother less beautiful, did they? I swore I would not reveal this secret until Mother passed; if I had, she would have lobotomized me, and then enslaved me in a way-out galaxy filled with earless vixens if I did. Actually, that notion gave me serious wood, but Mother swore it wasn’t as hot as it sounded, so we just contented ourselves acting it out as one of our many sick bedroom games. Oh--- and I called her Mother during these sex-fests. Damn, your Mom was a hot wet ride in the hay!"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP WITH THE HOT SEX COMMENTS???" bellowed the son. "WHY are you even telling me this?"

"I’m not bragging or anything, it’s just that Mommy could slurp a long hot hard"

He punched his father right between the horns, knocking him out cold. He lightly cackled as madness invaded his mind, and he bolted from the chapel, raking at his ears and singing "King of the Road" at the top of his lungs. As months passed, his crazed misery turned into blissful insanity, and he could no longer perform his diplomatic duties. Knowing the offspring of one of their own was in true peril, his Mother’s Mothership swooped down and took him to her home on the planet Zagazeze. Despite his half-breed status, they embraced him as one of their own, and he went on to become their Ambassador of Peace to the Stars, gleefully receiving the Zagazelians’ hot sex as described by his father.

And, like his father, he called all his sexual partners "Mother" too. Even the males. Even the Space-Rabbits.

And Father was proud of his son, though he sorely missed the bitching sex he had with his otherworld wife.

Real beauty lies not in the physical appearance, but in the powerful atomic grip of creatures from other planets. Real love lies not in what is done and known, but in what is done and revealed years later.