“Genuine Badger” by Elizabeth Rosen is a story within a story within a story. The writer of this powerful flash fiction frames recent events with those of the past to convey a cautionary tale that, on the surface, seems about a very determined honey badger. But really, it’s about…no, I’ll let you find out for yourself. The direct address of the second person only adds even more strength to the multilayered narrative. —Court Harler
Listen. Before you do that again, let me tell you a story. It’s about a honey badger named Stoffel.
Stoffel could escape from anywhere. My college roommate Ava and I used to watch videos of him outsmarting his zookeepers time after time. This was when things got really bad for her. If it was just her boyfriend raising his voice, calling her a stupid bitch like you do to me sometimes, then we’d get stoned and give each other manicures or watch rug-cleaning videos instead.
The zookeepers, they kept taking more and more away from that little badass badger to stop the escapes. First his badger girlfriend, who he was in cahoots with, then whatever implements were in his pit: a rake a landscaper had left behind by mistake, a tire. None of it stopped Stoffel. He found a way to use whatever was around to concoct a new escape route. And every morning, those zookeepers would peer over the railing to the pit below and see that their honey badger was missing again.
It made Ava smile. The smile would make the bruising around her eye look like a regular shadow instead. Like how she looked her sophomore year, before the boyfriend.
One day, as we sat on the couch we’d saved from the street, I took her arm. I pointed to the bruises there and said she had dark stripes just like Stoffel did. But she just drew her arm away and stared at the video screen. She didn’t answer at first, but then she said, “They always catch him and bring him back, don’t they.” It wasn’t a question.
I called the cops once, even though Ava told me not to. Said it only made it worse for her. And it did. So I just kept playing those Stoffel clips when she came home bruised and ashamed. I hoped she would take courage from them. But of course, she didn’t. Sometimes I wonder if the last thing she felt before that final punch to the head was relief that she was finally going to be a genuine badger. Anyway, I hope it wasn’t just fear.
See, I thought about Ava last night after you pushed me, and I think maybe she paid attention to the wrong things about Stoffel. Because badgers aren’t just escape artists, are they? They have claws, and teeth. They are smart, and tricky.
Raise your hand to me again. You’ll find out.
ELIZABETH ROSEN’s stories have appeared in journals such as the North American Review, Baltimore Review, Gargoyle, and Pithead Chapel, and been nominated for the Pushcart, Best Small Fictions, and Best of the Net awards. Colorwise, Elizabeth is an autumn. She mourns the loss of Tab and still wants her MTV.
Featured image by Ellie Eshaghi, courtesy of Unsplash.
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