| A
Meditation on Voices Lost or Stolen Only to be
Bought and Sold Like Chinese Babies
by D.C.
Young
--I was ice-skating
when I lost my voice for the first time. I had
never been ice-skating before and had just figured
out staying on my feet. I decided to try for a
jump, but on the first attempt I came down with
a loud crack, landing on my hands and knees. My
eyes squinted shut as the pain rose up out of
my throat, but when I tried to scream I couldn’t.
Like swallowing an entire ham backwards, that’s
what it feels like—same texture, too. I
opened my eyes to see my very own voice skidding
out across the ice.
--Once I got over
the initial shock of it, I skated over to where
it had stopped slipping around only to find some
oaf in an orange hat with one of those stupid
balls on top trying for a falsetto with my voice.
Well, needless to say, I was outraged. My voice
simply can’t sing falsetto. When the big
galute turned around, I could see the bulge in
his throat where his own voice had to make room
for mine. Then I sucker punched him square in
the diaphragm and my voice popped right out of
his mouth. I’ve found that this is the best
way to get your voice back when someone is gallivanting
around pretending to be you. Just give ‘em
a good sock right in the gut.
--Ever since then,
I’ve tried my best to keep my mouth shut
most of the time, afraid my voice might pop out
if someone happened by with a pair of tongs and
a pitcher of warm water. I get jumpy when I see
a kid carrying a baseball bat and glove. Kids
will do anything to make a buck these days. I
saw on the news last week that a twelve year old
in New Jersey was running a phone sex pyramid
scheme using Russian voices that he bought on
e-Bay.
--Another time a
man in an all white suit flipped a business card
out of his sleeve and said he’d pay me two
thousand dollars for the exclusive rights to my
voice. I’d heard of companies like his before—they’re
the ones that account for the suspicious similarities
between boy bands and jingles for cereal commercials.
Nowadays, voices can be bought and sold like candy.
As if I’d sell out for only two thousand
dollars.
--I hate to say it,
but I think my voice is starting to get used to
being passed around. They come for me in my sleep.
Sometimes I won’t be able to talk for days
on end, and then one morning my voice will turn
up in a box at my front door with a note that
says “Thanx,” and I have to rinse
it off in the sink. I only wish voices could speak
on their own. Maybe then I might find out who
keeps doing this to me. But then again, I suppose
I’m lucky they (if it is a they) bother
to return it at all. For all I know, my voice
is bringing in hundred dollar tips at a smoky
jazz bar someplace downtown. Another thing I hate
to admit is that some people sound better with
it then I do, but I can’t complain. This
is the voice I was born with, and we can’t
all run around trading voices all the time. The
notion is quite daft, really. Can you imagine
the rampant phone pranks? The common place deception?
The utter lack of trust that humanity would have
for itself? You know, there was a time when you
could get burned at the stake for wearing someone
else’s voice around.
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