April could hardly believe her eyes when her retarded son Bon-bon crossed the finish line at his school sports day. Bon-bon's face shone with glee as he decimated the tape with his lovely, round stomach. His mother rushed to greet him.
"Bon-bon! I'm so proud of you!" she exclaimed. Bon-bon just stood there, saliva bubbling down his chin as his lips contorted into a toothy smile. He grunted.
His mother said, "Well done, my son. You really are special, do you know that?"
These are the words Bon-bon was used to. Every time he hears the word 'special', it reminds him of just how special he is.
Bon-bon glances back at the other special children. Their parents try to hide their disappointment as they shuffle over to greet their loser children. Most people who are good at sports have some mental retardation, but these children had neither the brains nor the stamina to compete with Bon-bon. He was the best spastic in the school.
"I'll tell you what", April says with a feigned smile, "We can go to KFC for your dinner, how does that sound?"
Bon-bon smiled, grunted twice and clapped his hands. It was the only reaction he knew. What he would have really liked to have said was "No. I'm sick of KFC. We've been having it every three days since I was born. How about I get that KFC bucket and ram it straight up your twat, you cold bitch?!"
Bon-bon shoved the big, blue KFC doors open with his wrists as he and his mother strolled inside.
"I'll go order for us, why don't you sit at the table next to that plant and wait for me?" April said. Bon-bon twaddled over to the table his mother had so thoughtfully designated for him. Right next to the plant. He drops onto the chair with a thud and sits with his legs wide apart and begins chewing the floppy, rubber leaf next to his face. It tastes like plastic. Bon-bon thinks of the children he left behind at sports day, the loser children whose parents will drive them home in an uncomfortable silence as they try to forget what a failure they've raised, before one of them says "Let's stick the radio on, shall we?" and they continue the journey listening to Steve Wright extolling the alleged talents of Amy Winehouse.
The sudden realisation hits Bon-bon like a trampoline hurtling towards him at gale-force speeds. He wanted to be with the loser children. He is sick of being special, recieving special treatment wherever he goes. No regular person experiences such victory at their school sports day, let alone throughout the rest of their lives. The retarded children he ran ahead of just an hour earlier became 'normal'. They knew what it felt like to be mediocre. April turns and smiles at Bon-bon while patiently waiting for her turn to order.
"NECKST PLEAZE" shrieks the short, Philipino woman behind the counter. She smiles cheerily as April takes one giant step forwards to place her order. "Hi, can I have one of your bargain buckets for £9.99? With the bottle of Pepsi?"
April braces herself for when the Philipino woman yells "YES ANY-TING ELSE?" and, after being asked, says "No thankyou" and watches the Philipino lady scuttle off and begin rapidly filling up the bargain bucket. April glances to Bon-bon and is half-surprised to see him gnawing on the table. She raises her eyebrows and sighs. Her moment of transfixion is interrupted upon the arrival of her order; A bargain bucket and two litres of Pepsi.
"TANK YOU" says the Philipino woman, grinning as she tilts her head to the side. April returns to her fat little son Bon-bon with the meal. He can smell the deliciousness as it approaches, and is able to prise his teeth off the table edge in time for the tray of goodness to be placed in front of him. He grunts and squeals with delight.
April and Bon-bon eat their fried chicken and chips in silence. Bon-bon manages three pieces of chicken and one portion of chips, while April, who is on a diet, only eats two pieces of chicken and two portions of fries, and beans and gravy. The two leave the establishment holding hands. Bon-bon clutches the bucket and its two remaining pieces of chicken (contained within) against his chest and they head towards April's £50,000 Land Rover.
Peering over the front seat to her child in the back, April informs Bon-bon that it's time for her bi-weekly trip to the gym. Bon-bon sits there grinning, cradling his bargain bucket like it's his child. He cannot express his disappointment that they won't be going straight home. He cannot bear to sit in the Land Rover for two hours while his mother jogs on a treadmill drinking overpriced bottled water and listening to Kate Nash on her iPod. But, as usual, he sits and stares despite the rage building inside him. Every speedbump, every sharp turn on the way to the gym violenty jolts him up and down and from side to side, but he does not complain.
They pull into the gym car park with the tyres scraping up carefully-placed gravel as the Land Rover comes to a halt.
"Can you be a good boy while I nip into the gym for a little while?" April asks Bon-bon. She already knows the answer, and even if it's not what Bon-bon wants, she doesn't really care. Bon-bon makes a woofing noise and lifts his bucket up and down, to which April replies "Thanks sunshine. Back soon!"
She grabs her sports bag and jumps out of the car. Bon-bon's heart skips a beat when the central locking slams shut, and he looks up from the door lock to see April jogging towards the shiny, glass entrance. In his entire lifetime he will not amass a vocabulary big enough to describe the rage he is feeling right now.
Inside, rich housewives jog on their treadmills while businessmen spend their day off lifting weights and toning their bodies. Everyone is plugged in for the same reason; They all want to be appealing. Heavy breathing and the quiet, distant tunes of MP3 players are the soundtrack for this freak show with no audience. April jogs for twenty minutes at a time, disregarding her son sat alone in the car park. Each step on the treadmill is another stomp on Bon-bon's mental health.
The condensation on the inside of April's Land Rover windows have been scrawled on with Bon-Bon's fingers. Only he knows what he intended to draw. Psychologists would later analyse the scribblings and suggest that Bon-bon had tried to draw what his mother would look like after being shot repeatedly with bullets. Bon-bon's breathing becomes heavier as his madness grows inside him. April's breathing becomes heavier as she jogs and exercises to take her mind off of her son. Bon-bon has had enough. He fumbles with his seat-belt holder until one of his chubby fingers hits the button and his seat-belt zips off of his chest. Bon-bon screams with fury and begins braying his head against the window. It takes just seven batterings for the window to be fully smashed. His head pours with blood but Bon-bon doesn't seem to notice. He bashes the rest of the glass away from the window with his paws before hurling the KFC bargain bucket out of the Land Rover. Remarkably, it lands intact, much to the surprise of a passing dog-walker.
Bon-bon is determined to get into the gym and take his mother to task about her neglecting him. He climbs out of the window head first and lands in a heap of blood and glass shards on the gravel. Rolling himself upwards, Bon-bon runs towards his bucket of fried chicken with a sense of freedom rushing through him. "Are you alright, lad?" asks the man walking his dog. He looks over the top of his glasses at Bon-bon who stands there, not sure how to react. Bon-bon glances down at the man's dog, who appears to be trying to scratch its way into the bargain bucket. This cannot be happening. Bon-bon runs towards the dog and kicks it as hard as he can in the chest, blasting it so hard into the air that the man spins all the way around like a human swingball set, with the dog as the tennis ball, vomiting its Pedigree Chum up in a big, half-digested firework.
"What in the fuck?!" yells the man, but Bon-bon has already grabbed his bucket and is running towards the same entrance his mother used. His excitment is overwhelming. He slams the door open with his chest and sees a woman, much like his own mother, helping her little girl try on new arm bands. The two are clearly scared. There is blood all over the floor, and the woman on reception reaches for the telephone to call security.
Bon-bon manages to yelp out "No!" He gently places the bargain bucket in the soil of a potted plant nearby and picks the little girl up in his arms, to the sound of her screaming "Mummy! Get him off me!"
She is crying and hysterical, and Bon-bon launches her through the reception booth window at the receptionist inside, knocking them both out and causing the little girl permanent brain damage.
"Wha... what have you done!?" asks the mother, tears running down her face. Bon-bon rips the lid off his bucket and mashes a big tasty chicken thigh in the woman's face. She screams and tries to fight back, but Bon-bon is too strong and pushes her back so hard she stumbles over and bangs her head on the vending machine. She lays there unconscious and Bon-bon runs off down the corridor towards the gym. Inside, April is unaware that her son has escaped the Land Rover, let alone that he's knocked out three females and kicked a dog so hard that it has excreted its own liver. Her blissful jogging session comes to an abrupt halt when Bon-bon rams into the treadmill room, spilling the remnants of his fried chicken bucket all over the polished hardwood floor.
"Bon-bon! No!" April instinctively replies. She blushes as all the other eyes in the room turn to her, realising they all know she's the mother of this bloodied-up spastic.
"BON-BON GO SHIT!" he yells as loud as he can, before ripping off his gray jogging bottoms and running over towards a middle-aged woman who is crouching behind a bench-press. The woman screams as he approaches. Bon-bon is within a few feet of her when he turns around and blasts a river of feces all over the bench-press and the woman's shoes. She panic and begins to run away, but slips on Bon-bon's excrement and falls, braining herself against the fifty kilogram weights.
April can only stand there, mortified as her son wreaks havoc around the gym, smearing his bodily fluids onto anyone and everything.
"BON-BON GO SHIT!"
He grinds his anus up and down the treadmill handle, imitating a pole dancer he once saw on MTV.
"Bon-bon... I... please, son!" April cannot find the words to calm herself down. She will never be the same way again after witnessing this incident. She hits the "up" button on her treadmill's settings and maxes it out at a speed she'd never be able to run on. April looks at her son, who is smacking a teenager in the head with a vinyl dumbbell, before getting to her knees in front of the treadmill. She presses her face against the moving surface in an attempt to sand her own face off, so as to never be recognised as the mother of Bon-bon, the retarded child who smeared shit all over their local gym.
The pain is unbearable, she screams as her flesh is ripped away and thrown into the wall behind. Children's art work on the wall of the gym is being painted over with April's blood. Eventually she passes out from the agony and the treadmill throws her body head first across the floor. Bon-bon looks at his mother, lying there unconscious, and the dozens of other people he's either killed or knocked out surrounding her. He begins to walk towards his bargain bucket with its remaining piece of fried chicken, when a team of twelve armed police officers burst in through the door.
"Police! Freeze!" one shouts. Their guns are drawn, but Bon-bon is unphased. He puts his hands in the air like they do on television.
"Get down on the ground!"
Bon-bon thinks for a moment. He's spent his whole life on the ground. People telling him where to go, what times, when to go to bed. Never again, he thinks, and begins running towards the police men. They have no option.
Bon-bon is washed away in a tsunami of bullets.