Mr. Cactus, a short story

“Hello, Mr. Cactus.”

“Is it okay if I call you Mr. Cactus? I’ve never spoken to a cactus before, and I wouldn’t want to be rude. Did I say that correctly? Grandma taught me that word. She says it means ‘rude.’ I can’t say ‘rude’ then? She says I’m a very rude boy.”

“Grandma is always mad at me. I want to be a good boy, I really want to, even if I’m not so little anymore, but I never succeed. Grandma says I’m a bad boy and she has to punish me.”

“Hello again, Mr. Cactus. I can’t talk much right now. It hurts.”

“Hello Mr. Cactus. I’m better now so I can talk again. I don’t know what to say though.”

“I wish I was with mom and dad. Grandma says they’re in a better place now. I wish I was in a better place. Grandma says I’m a very bad boy for wanting that. It’s disrespectful to God, she says I must be very, very grateful to God for saving me and not sending me to hell, because that’s where all the bad kids go.This way at least I have a chance to be good and not go to hell, if I pray all the time And I do what Grandma says. I pray to God that Grandma doesn’t hurt me so much, but she still does. Do you think that’s a bad thing to pray for?

“Grandma says it’s my fault she hurt me. She says if I were a good kid, I’d never hurt myself. She’s a God-fearing woman and she doesn’t hurt good kids, which means I’m really, really bad.” I said God fearing, right? Grandma says I never speak properly, but how can I if he keeps hitting me?

“I… Are you still there, Mr. Cactus? I can’t see you right. I can’t see anything right. Can I touch you?”

“You’re a cactus, if I may say that. How come you didn’t prick my finger when I touched you? I wouldn’t mind, really. That would mean you were still there, and that’s all I wanted to know. I’m thankful you will you let me touch you and not prick my finger, I really am, I just don’t understand. I wish I could understand you. You’re my only friend.”

“I’m so happy to see you again, Mr. Cactus! Can I give you a hug?”

“How come you didn’t poke me in the face when I hugged you? Are you a special cactus?”

“Grandma says I have to sleep here, because I’m a bad boy. I’m not that small! Although, if it means I can sleep in your room, I don’t care.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cactus. Have you moved?”

“Hello, Mr. Cactus. I… Grandma says I have to go. I’m a bad boy and I can’t stay with her anymore. Do you know where you’re going to send me? She says they’ll teach me eventually.” she disciplines and instills in me the fear of God. I do not know what it means. You know? I’ll see you there? I’ll see you later?

“Mr. Cactus, it’s Granny. I know it’s stupid to say it, you know it’s Granny, but…it’s Granny.”

“Mr. Cactus? You’re the best! You really are! I don’t have to go now, right? I can stay with you forever!”

“Um, Mr. Cactus? How do I move Grandma? I know I should, it smells really bad, but how do I do it?”

“Oh. It’s easier now. Thanks, Mr. Cactus.”