Zanthoxylum americanum is tough and menacing with a spiky grey leather jacket and bright red eyeballs drooping from his sockets. He looks like he’s come from the streets of some small American town, more used to hassling the locals and stealing car radios than partaking in conversation. He sits within a distinct air of annoyance and when I walk up to him he grimaces and smacks his dry lips at me.
“Hello…” I begin hesitantly lest I might annoy him further. He grunts in return obviously not keen to talk. As I stand there I can see his tongue constantly flicking over his teeth at the top left side of his mouth.
“Your teeth…are you in pain?” I ask with a pause. I step back waiting for his acidic reply, yet when he speaks to me his voice is weak and low as though he’s no energy to fight any longer.
“It’s me teeff” he says with some difficulty. “They hurt all the time but the pain don’t stop there”. He points to his left leg and hip.
“It’s ‘ere as well, deep and throbbing, running down me side. It tingles an’ burns and wakes me at night”.
I look to his pale grey legs curled under him and they’re thick and knotted with dark purple veins. His whole body seems swollen around him. The glands on his neck are raised and shiny, like tight white balloons. His joints are puffy and red and stiff as rusted metal. His stomach is full and rigid under his jacket and deep gurgling noises like the sounds from an ancient swamp escape from time to time. Suddenly Zanthoxylum shouts at me.
“Don’t you stare at me kid! Don’t you make fun of me!” I jump back in fear and wait for a further assault, yet his head is now limp and his breath runs more slowly, and I can see from his eyes that he has no strength left.
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