I sat at the end of a dilapidated bench and rasped the twin barrels underneath my stubbled, doubled chins, holding the barrel in my left hand while trying to lift my right toe into the trigger guard, as I don’t have the strength to even come close to crossing my thighs under my own leg power. I turned around, my toes away from the pond, in the hopes that the blast will make my body collapse back into the water where I’ll float face up, me and the raccoon, our corpses crisscrossing the surface of the pond and sometimes touching, only to bounce off one another and float away again, an obscene screensaver that will keep the pond from burning its ugliness onto the monitor of God. Its limbs and tail are stretched out and it is turning with the stately slowness of a gray and bloated snowflake, yellow lava lamp pollen collecting around its fingertips. I had secreted away my father’s shotgun, wrapped it in my leather trenchcoat, and I stood on the creaking edge of a sun drenched dock, looking out over the pond and noticing a raccoon’s carcass floating about ten feet away. In the woods behind my house there is a small pond filled with fish I’ve never tried to catch. I folded the counselor’s note into the pocket of my jean shorts with the delicate formality of one who knows that there is only one possible recourse.Ĭonstantly ridiculed by my classmates, ignored by my parents, I decided that afternoon to end it all. The spring that would see a tadpole hatch from the head of my penis began with me being sent home three times for what my guidance counselor called "deliberately neglecting hygiene to the point of being misanthropic".
![the tadpole movie the tadpole movie](https://img.reelgood.com/content/movie/1d8ff042-2210-4c87-86cc-05f9b8206ab1/backdrop-1920.jpg)
This story begins, like all bad stories do, with thoughts of suicide.