Excerpt for The Masticator! (or: Chew On This For Awhile!…) by Mishka Zakharin, available in its entirety at Smashwords

THE MASTICATOR!

(or: Chew On This For Awhile!…)

by

Mishka Zakharin


SMASHWORDS EDITION


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PUBLISHED BY:

Mishka Zakharin on Smashwords

The Masticator! (or: Chew On This For Awhile!…)

Copyright © 2010 by Mishka Zakharin



All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.


Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.


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Few authors can entertain, make you laugh, evoke emotion, (possibly) offend you… and make you think—let alone all of the above. Mishka Zakharin is one such author… you are sure to find something in his writings that will hold your interest and keep you turning the pages…”

- Dana Grizzél, examiner.com


Zakharin averts existential absurdity by exploring, with candid wit and keen observation… Zakharin’s work is honest and subversive. Dark humor just got brighter. Mishka and his murky musings… truly talented—an unusual voice.”

- Shannon Sloan-Spice, B.A. Writing/Philosophy, UW—Waukesha


“…readers will feel inspired and learn a lot about the power of words. You will either fall deeply in love or run for the hills…”

- Cori Lark, author of Electric Ink



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The Masticator!

(or: Chew On This For Awhile!…)


Contents:

Unto New Idols

A Lion in Winter

The Way the World Should Be

The 13th Apostle

The Heart

The 1939 German Invasion of Poland

Charlie Danvers’ Return From War

The Life and Times of Randlav Antagonushka

Wasn’t It Keats…?

How I Got the Shingles

The Call


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Unto New Idols

Inspired (to some degree) by Alexander Pushkin’s ‘The Man I Was of Old’


The last glowing embers of the smoldering fire at last burnt themselves out in a thin wisp of smoke. I took a deep breath, feeling the clear, clean air rush into my lungs. Finishing the last swallow of beer, I pressed the can to my forehead and crushed it, at the same time emitting a raucous belch… I realized I’d had too much to drink, as the beer had been in a bottle…

Green began to fill my brain—an ere some sort of massive, demonic fungus… and I knew then, as I picked the shards of glass from my bleeding face, it would be a night like no other… It would be a night of ultimate insanity, of virtual chaos… the forest was my kingdom, and I would rule with a vivacious fervor! For I knew, as no other could… that the monkey shines at midnight….


“Oh, wow, man,” my cheesy friend Poona said from where he sat on the opposite side of the clearing. “You okay, dude? I mean, in this moonlight… whoa, you got a wicked look in your eyes! Real psycho or something…”

The man I was of old,” I replied, standing, “that man I still remain…”

“Glad to hear it!” Poona said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “Aw, shit! It’s 12:30—we better get some sleep if we’re still planning on getting up to head back to the city by four…”

Poona continued talking, but I tuned out his words. They were unimportant. He was insignificant. My mind was occupied with other things… the memory of my youth… My heart felt as though it would surely break as I thought back on my lost sense of innocence; of the glow, the warmth, the pink of childhood… opportunities missed… loves lost…

Ah, yes—there it was… lost love! Enough to drive any man over the edge… Troilus, Lancelot, Romeo, John Hinckley, and me… My goodness! Holy crud!… I’d strangle the bitch for sure if I could get my hands on her stinking neck!…

But such is a tale for another day…


Taking my albino monkey puppet Don from my backpack and placing him on my left hand, my little friend seemed to take on a life of his own—and the world around me softened as if unto a dream…

The monkey shines at midnight…!” I cried in a hoarse, defiant whisper.

Poona, clearly awed by the passion in my voice, by the wisdom of my words, stared in wide-eyed fear… (I almost felt sorry for the poor, inferior sap…)

“Rocamadur…” he muttered, and passed out.

I laughed—and fled into the wild…


*


Unchastened by the pangs whereby I have been driven…


I broke from the tree line at an all-out run and splashed down into the lake, wetting both myself and my monkey thoroughly.


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