Zugrexamok - 1. Zugrexamok

“Holy shit! Someone just threw something out of that car! It looked like it was moving! I think it’s alive!” Jerry leapt to his feet and sprinted down the side of the road, his search for frogs in the drainage ditch forgotten. His buddies exchanged surprised looks, then darted after him. Benny brought up the rear, his chubby cheeks bright red as he gasped for breath.

Jerry skidded to a stop near the large pine tree that had been struck by lightning the year before. “It was near here. Joey, you go that way. Brad, go the other way. Benny… just try not to step on it.”

Benny scowled. “I can look too,” he huffed.

Jerry rolled his eyes. “Fine. Go with Joey.” He walked slowly straight ahead while Joey and Benny headed to his left and Brad to his right. He scoured the area, looking for anywhere the brown grass was disturbed. “You guys see anything?”

“No. You?” Joey yelled.

“Nope.”

A few minutes later, Brad shouted, “I found something!” The boys all ran to his side and stared at the tiny ball of brown fur nestled into the grass.

“Shit, man. How the fuck you’d find it?” Benny asked.

Brad shrugged. “Dunno. Just had this weird feeling, and I looked down and there it was. Is it dead?”

“Pick it up and see,” Joey said, crossing his arms.

“You pick it up, fuckface. I ain’t picking up no dead rat.” Brad looked sick at the thought.

“It’s not a rat. It’s a hamster. Who would throw a hamster out of a car? That’s sick!” Jerry reached down for the tiny creature and picked it up. It was still warm. He wiped away a speck of blood from its nose, then held it up to his mouth.

“What the hell are you doing?” Benny asked. “You gonna kiss it or something? That’s fucked up.”

Jerry frowned. “You’re an idiot, you know that?” He gently blew air into the rodent’s nose and pressed his fingers gently, but rhythmically, on the animal’s chest. After a minute or so, the brown hamster sneezed with a high-pitched squeak and wiggled in Jerry’s hands.

“Holy shit! How’d you learn how to do that?” Brad stared at his friend in awe.

“I saw it on Animal Planet.” He held out the revived creature. “Hold it a sec, would ya? I gotta find something to put it in.” He thrust it into Brad’s hands, then ran to get the pail they were going to put their frogs in.

Brad cradled the hamster gently, afraid of hurting it. He softly petted its head. “You’ll be OK. Jerry will take good care of you.” He gasped when the animal turned and stared at him with glowing, red eyes, then bit his finger. “Ow! Son of a bitch!” He managed to hold onto it, despite the pain.

Jerry ran up with the bucket. He had lined it with leaves to make a bed for the injured animal. “What happened?”

“It bit me.”

“Well, it’s probably scared.” Jerry held out the pail, and Brad gently set the hamster inside. “Let’s get him home and find something for it to eat. I think Petey might have a cage we can put it in.”

Brad peeked into the pail. The hamster hissed and bared its teeth. Brad opened his mouth to say something to Jerry, but his friend was talking to Joey and Benny. “I gotta get home. See ya later!” He took off down the road, sucking the blood off his injured finger.

“Whatcha got?” Petey ran over to his bigger brother as soon as he saw the pail in his hands. “A fwoggie?”

“Hey. Where’s that cage you had your gerbils in?”

“That not a fwog cage.”

“This isn’t a frog. We found a hamster.”

Petey grinned. “I love hamstas. Lemme see!”

“Hang on! Someone threw him out of a car. He’s hurt.”

Petey’s lower lip trembled. “That mean.”

“Yeah, bud. That mean.” Jerry knew how much his little brother loved animals. Together, they’d take great care of their new pet.

Petey went to his closet and threw a bunch of toys out of it before returning with a small metal cage. “Here.” He even had some shavings and food leftover from his pet gerbils that had recently died. It didn’t take long for them to make a cozy home for the brown hamster.

Jerry gently lifted the small thing and set it in the cage. “What do you think, Petey? Cute, isn’t it?”

Petey stared at the animal, wide-eyed. “That not hamstah. That bad.”

Jerry frowned. “What are you talking about?”

Petey backed away from the cage. “Don’t want it hewe. Bad thing. Go away!” He ran from the room, crying.

Jerry shrugged and picked up the cage to move it into his room. Little brothers were weird.

***

“Zugrexamok,” Petey stated the next morning, milk and cereal dripping from his mouth with each syllable.

“What was that, dear?” his mom asked as she spread peanut butter on Wonder bread.

“Zugrexamok,” he repeated, Froot Loops parts flying from his mouth.

“Say it, don’t spray it,” Jerry said, wiping his arm.

“What is ‘zoogrexymuk’?” Their mom cut the sandwich she was making in half and placed it in a plastic baggie.

“Not hamstah.” Petey shoveled more mushy cereal in his mouth.

“So not Thor, then what?” Jerry thought the God of thunder was the perfect name for such a resilient creature. He was also impressed a four-year-old who couldn’t say ‘frog’ right, said such a complicated word correctly.

Petey sighed in exasperation. “No! Not Thow! Zugrexamok! Not hamstah! Bad thing!”

Jerry loved his little brother, but he wasn’t in the mood for this. He’d been up all night with bad dreams, and now had to go to school. He shoved the last bite of Pop Tart into his mouth and grabbed his lunch bag. “Later, Petey. Love you, Mom!”

The next morning Jerry almost refused to get out of bed when his mom woke him up. He’d had more horrible nightmares and didn’t get much sleep. He shivered. The vestiges of the bad dream still lingered in his mind. He couldn’t remember all of it—thank God—but enough to know it involved Petey and bears and lots of blood. He tried not to think about it, and checked on the ‘not a hamstah’. It lay curled up in a corner of its cage, asleep. It was so cute. He had no idea why Petey hated it so much. He loved gerbils, and they were pretty much the same thing. He shrugged and threw on his jeans and a wrinkled Pokemon shirt, then headed into the kitchen. He had just put his Pop Tarts in the toaster when a blood-curdling scream made panic flood through him.

He immediately thought of his nightmare and ran to Petey’s room, his heart pounding, but his mom had gotten there first. Petey was having the meltdown to end all meltdowns. Jerry had never seen his little brother this hysterical. His round face was bright red, and he could barely breathe in between sobs. Tears streaked his face, and his nose ran with clear goo. He clutched his favorite teddy to his chest and wouldn’t let anyone near him.

His mom forced Jerry to go to school, even though he didn’t want to. He worried about Petey all day. He rushed right home after school to find his little brother playing with blocks in the living room. Jerry sighed in relief. Petey usually ran to his big brother the minute he got home, but this time he ignored him.

“What’s wrong, Petey?” Jerry asked, kneeling next to him.

“I mad at you.”

“Huh? Why? What did I do?”

“You bad. Hurt teddy. You bwunged not a hamstah. He bad.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“Go away!” Petey yelled. His face was starting to turn red—a clear sign of an impending temper tantrum.

“Jerry? That you? Come here! I want to have a word with you,” his mother said from the kitchen.

Jerry swallowed. A word with Mom was never good. He went to the kitchen and sat across from the scowling woman. Great. She looked really pissed.

“Explain.” She held up Petey’s favorite teddy. Well, what was left of it. It was decapitated and stuffing hung out of multiple tears in the fabric.

“Oh my God! What happened to Teddy?”

“You tell me.”

Jerry furrowed his brows. “How would I know?”

She set the mangled toy on the table. “Petey says you did this.”

Jerry’s eyes widened. “What? I would never do something so horrible!”

In the end, Jerry was grounded for a week for something he insisted he didn’t do.

***

Jerry was a mess. He didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in over a month because of the nightmares. They all seemed to revolve around his little brother. He was terrified to go to sleep and see the images of Petey being hurt by red-eyed monsters from another world.

He kept getting in trouble for things he didn’t do. First it was the mauled teddy bear. Then it was Petey’s stuffed t-rex that met the same fate as the bear. His mom took him to see a child psychologist after the red paint incident. His parents loved renovating old furniture and were refinishing a desk for him to use for schoolwork. It was going to be painted red and blue, his favorite colors. One morning, about a week ago, Petey woke up screaming again, covered in red paint. Jerry almost fainted, thinking his brother had been stabbed or something. The walls in the room and Petey’s bed were also covered in bright red paint. It looked like a scene out of a horror film.

It wasn’t fair to blame him, Jerry thought, even if his pajamas had red paint on them. He must have bumped into the desk when the paint was still wet. And he loved his little brother. How could they think he’d terrorize him? This wasn’t funny! Petey was terrified of his former idol/big brother. That was the worst part of all. Any time he saw Jerry, he’d scream, “Zugrexamok!” and run and hide. His only consolation was his ‘not a hamstah’. The little brown furball curled up next to him when he did his homework or ran around his room in his hamster ball. It was really funny to watch how fast it could move the ball with its short, stubby legs.

Then came the day Jerry’s world completely collapsed. The nightmares that night were the worst yet. Petey was in his room, sitting on his bed, sobbing in hysterics, surrounded by fire. It consumed all his toys, then his bed, then his brother. It was horrible. He woke up drenched in sweat, chest heaving as he gasped for breath. The blare of the smoke alarm made him cover his ears.

His mom burst into his room and grabbed him by his arm, dragging him out into the hallway. Smoke billowed from Petey’s room.

“What did you do?” she screamed at him.

“I didn’t do anything! Where’s Petey? Is he OK?” He tried to break free from her iron grip and run to his brother’s room. He stood still, in shock, after his mom slapped him across the face.

“He’s fine, no thanks to you! You reek of gasoline! How could you do this?” Her continued shouting mingled with the sirens from the fire engine and police cars. His father tried to make them leave the house, but Jerry couldn’t leave his pet to die. Not after he’d saved his life. He broke free and ran into his room to grab Thor.

The sight inside the cage made him scream worse than Petey’s meltdown to end all meltdowns.

Not a hamstah was dead.

In a horribly brutal way.

Petey watched as the firemen rushed inside to put out the fire, and paramedics gave his blood-stained big brother something to make him stop screaming. They strapped Jerry onto a gurney and loaded him in the back of the ambulance. His mom said he was going to a special hospital where he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. Petey was safe now.

He nodded and clung to her leg. He wiped his hand on his jammies, wondering why mommy had blood on her leg. He let go and whimpered when he saw her red eyes.

“Zugrexamok,” he whispered.

“Yes, sweetie?” his not a mom replied.