It was a soup spoon, the kind the cafeteria lady used to pass out generous portions to the varieties of boys and girls that line up before her every day. Called in some somewhat arbitrary order of the day.
The idea really hadn't crossed his mind until he saw it sitting in the washroom sink one day.
"This is gonna suck." With a rough estimate of where his heart was, he jabbed the spoon into his chest and scooped it out like grabbing steaming, chunky ice cream. Never one to waste resources, he dropped it into a plastic bag to give to the dog. The next day, he limped outside with a wad of towelling sticking out of his chest, the dog ran over, did a circle, arced the funny hunch of an animal in an uncompromising position, and made a wet pile of shit, full of bloody remnant which would become earth and have an opportunity to be beautiful in some space but not his.
