Mouroir

Short Story

Once upon a time there was a man by the name of Lukas Percy Vermoken. Well, to be quite honest, he was first a foetus and then a baby and further still a boy before he changed into a man. He was delivered at 01h36 during the early part of the night and already at birth his hands were reddish. For his thirteenth birthday he was given a push bike and his nickname was Small Pears. A ribbon had been knotted around the handlebars of the bicycle. Some years after starting to work as a clerk (in a packing firm), he entered the state of marriage. His wife had one front tooth with a gold filling. The name of his second daughter was Magriet. As a hobby he collected postage stamps which, with reddish fingers, he arranged in albums, under transparent paper, and cats or dogs in the house gave him hay fever. During 1965 he visited, together with his wife and youngest son, the Kruger National Park. On 12 March 1969 he was promoted to assistant manager staff, the adjusted wages retroactive from beginning January. At his retirement he would most surely have received a silver wrist-watch, fittingly inscribed on the back. On holiday with in-laws in Williston he succumbed to cardiac failure. Fried chicken gizzards was one of his favourite dishes. “A silent tear we weep but know you’re in God’s keep; yeah, we shall ever live with the pain until we one day meet again.” Profoundly mourned by Hannetjie, Lukas (Boy), Sunara, Magriet and Freddie (son-in-law), Charles and Elefteria, brothers-in-law and sister. Burial arrangements by Human and Pitt.