The Broken Mirror's Tale

The she-cow that gave birth to me called me her “own personal broken mirror”. She maintained it was the only way to explain the bad luck that dogged her from the day of my birth. From then on, she’d been unable to get a gig as a feature dancer in any club, and even hooking had proved worthless.

The idea that it was my fault, or even a real broken mirror, and not the 50 pounds of junk food weight she put on is ludicrous. Thusly began my hatred of superstitions and false beliefs.

“Step on a crack and break your mama’s back”, my ass! It took a ballpeen hammer and considerable effort to accomplish that task. Another myth laid to rest and into the foster care system I went.

Kids can be pretty cruel to each other for no damned good reason. I learned that along the way to debunking other lies. “If you keep making that face, it will get stuck that way” is also untrue. That snooty little bitch Tina Kozlovsky found that out. It took me and a straight razor, behind the school gym, to permanently alter her features. Case closed and into the juvenile detention system I went.

My many years in juvie, allowed me to disprove quite a number of false beliefs. “The evil eye” is no match for the sharpened toothbrush. “Walking under a ladder” isn’t bad luck, standing on it when I push it over is - as pay back to the bastard who stole my Walkman. “Finding a horseshoe” is not good luck, if it’s inside a pillow case and I’m beating you with it - as payback for you and your crew jumping me in the laundry room. It was a very enlightening time for me.

Adulthood freed me from that learning experience, and the outside world refined my studies. “Knocking on wood” doesn’t ward off bad luck if you do it pursuant to serving me a warrant. That just gets you shot. A “black cat crossing your path” is only unlucky if you try crossing the street to avoid it and I run you down during a getaway. The list goes on and on, but doesn’t explain why I’m sitting in this cell. That can be laid at the feet of the biggest falsehood of them all.

“Love conquers all” is complete crap. It doesn’t conquer a girlfriend’s need to set your feet on the straight and narrow path “for your own good”. It doesn’t conquer her preaching at you and trying to frighten you with the “fires of eternal damnation”. And all of that Bible-thumping, definitely, doesn’t cover the sound of you, finally, having had enough and thumping her superstition-laden head against a wall until bones break and blood runs down your arms.

No, it gets you a one-way ticket to solitary while your appeals are exhausted. Sitting here, reflecting on the wreckage these worthless concepts have wrought in my life, my palms are itching.

I know this has nothing to do with me getting or owing any money. It’s just a nervous reaction to the lethal voltage the state will be pumping through my body in a few hours. Shame they don’t allow mirrors, even broken ones, in here. I’d like to look my best at the end.