CHIVALROUS CONSTRUCTION WORKERS:
Scene: Two Construction workers in yellow hats.
NARRATOR AT GOD MIC: Medieval Europe is renowned for the prestige of it’s beautiful castles and some of the most talented architects of all time. It was also the age of the culture of chivalry.
SIR STEVE: Sir Brad, it’s been a fortnight, or some other outdated term, since we began the construction of this fourth wall.
SIR BRAD: Sir Steve, did you see Lady Gwenevere, yonder?
SIR STEVE: Ah, yes...
Steve starts whistling.
SIR BRAD: Heeeeey guuuuuuuurl, Hey, Hey, Heeeeeey guuuuuurl, Hey!
SIR STEVE: Dayuuuum, you got a nice ass...sertainably confident personality!
SIR BRAD: I respect you as a woman!
SIR STEVE: There she goes. Anyway, do you have any brick glue?
SIR BRAD: Don’t be silly, you can’t glue bricks together, that’s what staples are for.
SIR STEVE: Oh, look, it’s the maiden Katarina.
This time Sir Brad starts whistling.
SIR STEVE: Ooooow Ooooow whatup guuuuuuuuurl!
SIR BRAD: Hey hey where you goin’
SIR STEVE: I am digging that self esteem you’re dragging!
SIR BRAD: You know who you are as a person!
SIR STEVE: There she goes.
SIR BRAD: Let’s make that tower tall enough that people think we’re
compensating for something.
SIR STEVE: Yeah, right, like poor sexual self esteem or a lack of a mother
figure.
SIR BRAD: Ha! What if we were like that?
SIR STEVE: Here comes Lady Genivive!
SIR BRAD: Oh, hey, gurl! Hey, hey, hey gurl! Where you goin with that nice sense
of morals and the ability to believe in yourself?
SIR STEVE: Yeah, yeah, you are complete with or without a man!
A beautiful princess approaches them.
PRINCESS GENIVIVE: Why are you construction workers yelling chivalrous things at me?
SIR STEVE: We just wanted to let you know we like you for you.
SIR BRAD: We respect who you are as a person. You're special for who you are.
PRINCESS GENIVIVE: But why cat call? Regardless of whether you intended it as a compliment I still feel the pressure of being "othered" under the constrains of the male gaze.
SIR STEVE: No, we just wanted to let you know you’re super fiiiiiine. Like classy.
PRINCESS GENIVIVE: You think any woman wants to feel measured soley as an aspect of
their personality? You're reducing me to one aspect of myself.
SIR STEVE: She’s right... What have we been doing?
SIR BRAD: We need to reevaluate ourselves. I think the reason I am this way is I had too healthy of a relationship with my mother.
SIR STEVE: We’re sorry for making you feel uncomfortable and anxious due to society's patriarchial constructs. We won’t cat call women anymore.
PRINCESS GENIVIVE: Thank you.
She walks away.
SIR BRAD: Oh check that out!
SIR STEVE: Hey, Hey, Sir Kevin! How you doin’?
SIR BRAD: Man, you are WEARING that sense of confidence!
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Socks
Scene: One person is on stage dancing (Barbara) she dances for a few minutes and then another person, Steve, approaches the stage.
STEVE: Hey Barbara, how’s it going?
BARBARA:
(still dancing)
Not great.
STEVE: Oh... that’s too bad. But, hey, somebody got some new socks, didn’t they? eh, eh?
BARBARA:
(still dancing)
Oh, these old things?
STEVE: May I borrow them?
BARBARA:
(Still dancing while attempting to take off her socks, hopping on one foot)
Sure... just don’t get all your gross germs on them. You gotta save that crap for my smoothie.
Barbara stops dancing, she hands him the socks and he puts them on while talking to her.
STEVE:
(as he puts the socks on he starts dancing)
So, what’s bothering you?
BARBARA: Oh, I was just thinking about the insignificance of the mundane vapid reservoir of human emotions and the meaninglessness of existence.
STEVE: (dancing)
What about it?
BARBARA: Well, it’s awesome. But while I was thinking about it my dad called and said he needed a new kidney.
STEVE:
(dancing)
Oh, really? I’m not using mine. Do you want one?
BARBARA: Well, I just ate.
STEVE:
(dancing)
Don’t be silly, Barbara... girls don’t eat.
BARBARA: Oh, sorry, I use the word "eat" to mean have sex with strangers.
STEVE:
(dancing)
No worries. But no, I didn’t mean as a snack, I meant do you want to use my kidney to give to your dad?
BARBARA: Oh yes, please! How generous
STEVE:
(dancing)
Seven generous.
Steve lies down on the floor, writhing around doing sort of an upside down worm while Barbara ties a surgical mask on and begins to perform kidney surgery. But it's difficult for her to cut Steve because he won't stop dancing.
BARBARA: Steve, this is really difficult to do surgery like this.... I mean, I hate to be a bitch, but my parents raised me-
STEVE:
(dancing on the floor)
What?
BARBARA: Maybe you shouldn’t wear my socks while we're doing this... since they look much better on me.
STEVE:
(removing the socks)
That’s fair.
Steve hands the socks to Barbara who puts them on and starts dancing.
BARBARA:
(dancing)
Now hold still.
A man or woman in a white robe comes in.
GOD: Hey kids
BARBARA AND STEVE:
(barbara is still dancing)
Hey, god
GOD: Listen kids, you’re being very loud with all this surgery
BARBARA:
(dancing)
Yeah, I know, right?
GOD: Yeah, it’s awesome. I was thinking we should make a stomp band.
STEVE: What’s stomp?
GOD: Don’t be that guy, Steve! Nobody likes the guy who doesn’t like stomp!
STEVE: Oh, I mean, like, yeah I’ve heard of it.
GOD: Oh you have, then what is it?
BARBARA:
(dancing)
It’s-
GOD: NO! Let Steve answer! Let him answer on his own!
STEVE: It’s um... music that is like... indie, alternative, with um...Daft... Punk.
GOD: Barbara, give me your socks.
BARBARA:
(takes socks off)
Um... Okay
Barbara hands socks to god. God puts them on and starts dancing.
GOD:
(dancing)
Thank you.
STEVE: Hey Barbara, how’s it going?
BARBARA:
(still dancing)
Not great.
STEVE: Oh... that’s too bad. But, hey, somebody got some new socks, didn’t they? eh, eh?
BARBARA:
(still dancing)
Oh, these old things?
STEVE: May I borrow them?
BARBARA:
(Still dancing while attempting to take off her socks, hopping on one foot)
Sure... just don’t get all your gross germs on them. You gotta save that crap for my smoothie.
Barbara stops dancing, she hands him the socks and he puts them on while talking to her.
STEVE:
(as he puts the socks on he starts dancing)
So, what’s bothering you?
BARBARA: Oh, I was just thinking about the insignificance of the mundane vapid reservoir of human emotions and the meaninglessness of existence.
STEVE: (dancing)
What about it?
BARBARA: Well, it’s awesome. But while I was thinking about it my dad called and said he needed a new kidney.
STEVE:
(dancing)
Oh, really? I’m not using mine. Do you want one?
BARBARA: Well, I just ate.
STEVE:
(dancing)
Don’t be silly, Barbara... girls don’t eat.
BARBARA: Oh, sorry, I use the word "eat" to mean have sex with strangers.
STEVE:
(dancing)
No worries. But no, I didn’t mean as a snack, I meant do you want to use my kidney to give to your dad?
BARBARA: Oh yes, please! How generous
STEVE:
(dancing)
Seven generous.
Steve lies down on the floor, writhing around doing sort of an upside down worm while Barbara ties a surgical mask on and begins to perform kidney surgery. But it's difficult for her to cut Steve because he won't stop dancing.
BARBARA: Steve, this is really difficult to do surgery like this.... I mean, I hate to be a bitch, but my parents raised me-
STEVE:
(dancing on the floor)
What?
BARBARA: Maybe you shouldn’t wear my socks while we're doing this... since they look much better on me.
STEVE:
(removing the socks)
That’s fair.
Steve hands the socks to Barbara who puts them on and starts dancing.
BARBARA:
(dancing)
Now hold still.
A man or woman in a white robe comes in.
GOD: Hey kids
BARBARA AND STEVE:
(barbara is still dancing)
Hey, god
GOD: Listen kids, you’re being very loud with all this surgery
BARBARA:
(dancing)
Yeah, I know, right?
GOD: Yeah, it’s awesome. I was thinking we should make a stomp band.
STEVE: What’s stomp?
GOD: Don’t be that guy, Steve! Nobody likes the guy who doesn’t like stomp!
STEVE: Oh, I mean, like, yeah I’ve heard of it.
GOD: Oh you have, then what is it?
BARBARA:
(dancing)
It’s-
GOD: NO! Let Steve answer! Let him answer on his own!
STEVE: It’s um... music that is like... indie, alternative, with um...Daft... Punk.
GOD: Barbara, give me your socks.
BARBARA:
(takes socks off)
Um... Okay
Barbara hands socks to god. God puts them on and starts dancing.
GOD:
(dancing)
Thank you.
The Living Room
Scene: two men are sitting on the couch. A girl walks in.
BARBARA: Hey guys. What’s up?
ANDERS: Nothing, we’re just watching a movie.
BARBARA: Coolio.
ANDERS: I made pasta if you want some. You can take it in your room and eat it.
Barbara helps herself to pasta and sits on the couch.
ANDERS: Or eat it here.
BARBARA: Oh, I’m sorry, you have a date here, how rude of me, Brian do you want some?
BRIAN:
(taking some)
Thanks!
ANDERS:
(snidely)
Anything else?
BARBARA: Can you heat it up for me?
ANDERS: I... um... I’m on a... but there’s candles... and wine.
BARBARA: Oh sure I’d like some wine too.
ANDERS: .... Okay.
Anders goes to the kitchen with Barbara’s plate.
BRIAN: I thought he’d never leave.
BARBARA: I know, right?
BRIAN: Some people can not respect privacy.
Brian gets up from the couch.
BARBARA: So where were we?
BRIAN: You were talking about your fears.
Brian sits down in the chair by the couch and Barbara lies down.
BARBARA: Oh right. Um, dying, dying alone, dying alone after being sexually assaulted, and people with slightly smaller hands than normal handling fruit.
BRIAN:
(deadpan)
Ugh, white people problems.
BARBARA: We’re really moving forward.
BRIAN: Oh, don’t worry... that’s just because you’re emotionally constipated.
BARBARA: No I meant the ship.
Anders returns.
ANDERS: What ship?
BARBARA: Oh, Anders, I hate to tell you this way, with pasta still in my mouth, but the apartment is a spaceship.
BRIAN: How does he not know?
BARBARA: He’s agoraphobic. Afraid of argyle. Can’t leave the house, so sad.
BRIAN: If we're all in the living room, then who’s driving the ship?
BARBARA: I tied it to an asteroid. Autopilot.
ANDERS: Look, I’m really upset about this all right now.
BARBARA: What’s this?
ANDERS: A proximal demonstrative of the English Language.
BRIAN: I mean why are you upset?
ANDERS: Barbara is ruining our date!
BARBARA: What do you want me to do?
ANDERS: Untie the spaceship from the asteroid and take us back to earth.
BARBARA: Fine.
Barbara goes to the door but it’s locked.
BARBARA: Anders... did you flip the light switch when you left the kitchen?
ANDERS: Yes. I'm an environmentalist. I saw a movie with Al Gore, ...Farenheint 9/11.
BARBARA: That light switch in the kitchen locks this door.
BRIAN:
(looking out the window with binnoculars)
You guys... the asteroid might have been a bad idea to tie the ship to.
BARBARA: Why?
ANDERS:
(realizing)
There’s a black president and a female secretary of state which is weird, that I know that.
BRIAN: The only time that ever happens in movies some asteroid is about to destroy the planet.
BARBARA: We’re headed toward Earth... If I can’t get to the cockpit, the only thing that can save us is if somehow we could be pulled in the opposite direction enough to slip the lasso off the asteroid.
BRIAN: nothing has enough mass to revert our gravitational pull.
BARBARA: Quick, yell demeaning things at the moon.
ANDERS: Why?
BARBARA: When you demean something, it gains weight. My mom taught me that.
ANDERS: Fine. Moon, hey Moon! What’s it like to live in the shadow half the time?
BRIAN: I hope you got some proactive for all those crater face holes!
ANDERS: Werewolves don’t like you.
BARBARA: It’s working! The moon is shame eating!
There is a rumbling sound and all three lose their footing for an instant.
ANDERS: Oh thank god.
BRIAN: Um, Okay... Thank you, diety.
BARBARA: My pasta’s cold.
Barbara goes to the door to the kitchen but it’s locked. She flips the lightswitch in the living room and then lets herself out.
BARBARA: Hey guys. What’s up?
ANDERS: Nothing, we’re just watching a movie.
BARBARA: Coolio.
ANDERS: I made pasta if you want some. You can take it in your room and eat it.
Barbara helps herself to pasta and sits on the couch.
ANDERS: Or eat it here.
BARBARA: Oh, I’m sorry, you have a date here, how rude of me, Brian do you want some?
BRIAN:
(taking some)
Thanks!
ANDERS:
(snidely)
Anything else?
BARBARA: Can you heat it up for me?
ANDERS: I... um... I’m on a... but there’s candles... and wine.
BARBARA: Oh sure I’d like some wine too.
ANDERS: .... Okay.
Anders goes to the kitchen with Barbara’s plate.
BRIAN: I thought he’d never leave.
BARBARA: I know, right?
BRIAN: Some people can not respect privacy.
Brian gets up from the couch.
BARBARA: So where were we?
BRIAN: You were talking about your fears.
Brian sits down in the chair by the couch and Barbara lies down.
BARBARA: Oh right. Um, dying, dying alone, dying alone after being sexually assaulted, and people with slightly smaller hands than normal handling fruit.
BRIAN:
(deadpan)
Ugh, white people problems.
BARBARA: We’re really moving forward.
BRIAN: Oh, don’t worry... that’s just because you’re emotionally constipated.
BARBARA: No I meant the ship.
Anders returns.
ANDERS: What ship?
BARBARA: Oh, Anders, I hate to tell you this way, with pasta still in my mouth, but the apartment is a spaceship.
BRIAN: How does he not know?
BARBARA: He’s agoraphobic. Afraid of argyle. Can’t leave the house, so sad.
BRIAN: If we're all in the living room, then who’s driving the ship?
BARBARA: I tied it to an asteroid. Autopilot.
ANDERS: Look, I’m really upset about this all right now.
BARBARA: What’s this?
ANDERS: A proximal demonstrative of the English Language.
BRIAN: I mean why are you upset?
ANDERS: Barbara is ruining our date!
BARBARA: What do you want me to do?
ANDERS: Untie the spaceship from the asteroid and take us back to earth.
BARBARA: Fine.
Barbara goes to the door but it’s locked.
BARBARA: Anders... did you flip the light switch when you left the kitchen?
ANDERS: Yes. I'm an environmentalist. I saw a movie with Al Gore, ...Farenheint 9/11.
BARBARA: That light switch in the kitchen locks this door.
BRIAN:
(looking out the window with binnoculars)
You guys... the asteroid might have been a bad idea to tie the ship to.
BARBARA: Why?
ANDERS:
(realizing)
There’s a black president and a female secretary of state which is weird, that I know that.
BRIAN: The only time that ever happens in movies some asteroid is about to destroy the planet.
BARBARA: We’re headed toward Earth... If I can’t get to the cockpit, the only thing that can save us is if somehow we could be pulled in the opposite direction enough to slip the lasso off the asteroid.
BRIAN: nothing has enough mass to revert our gravitational pull.
BARBARA: Quick, yell demeaning things at the moon.
ANDERS: Why?
BARBARA: When you demean something, it gains weight. My mom taught me that.
ANDERS: Fine. Moon, hey Moon! What’s it like to live in the shadow half the time?
BRIAN: I hope you got some proactive for all those crater face holes!
ANDERS: Werewolves don’t like you.
BARBARA: It’s working! The moon is shame eating!
There is a rumbling sound and all three lose their footing for an instant.
ANDERS: Oh thank god.
BRIAN: Um, Okay... Thank you, diety.
BARBARA: My pasta’s cold.
Barbara goes to the door to the kitchen but it’s locked. She flips the lightswitch in the living room and then lets herself out.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
babysitting
Mrs. Petersburb ran around the kitchen and grabbed one diamond earing from a dish by the sink and another from the top of the refrigerator. Leaning against the fridge, she flipped her blonde hair back and fastened the sparkling jewelery onto the sagging lobe of cartilage that she heard things out of. Stephanie stared at the floor, trying not to look impressed that the grown up woman could accomplish that task without staring into a mirror and missing the ear hole four times.
"So, we're going to just be very close, just down the street, okay, sweetie?"
"Um, kay," Stephanie mumbled, eyes glued to her untied converse sneakers, barely peaking out of baggy unwashed black jeans.
"Here's the phone number of the house where we'll be, and here's the phone number of the doctor, and the fireman, and the policeman, and the therapist, and the physical therapist, and the physical therapist's boyfriend, just in case."
"Yeah."
Mrs. Petersburg placed one hand on the counter top and balanced so she could hook on her obnoxiously tall high heals, elevating her to a foot above the quiet sixteen year old.
"You can help yourself to anything," Mrs. Petersburg trilled as she hooked her purse over her arm. From beneath heavy black bangs Stephanie furrowed her eye brows. They always said that, that you could help yourself to all of their food. But she had a pretty good idea that if she drank all the beer and ate all the laxatives they wouldn't be okay with it. Stephanie had never drank beer nor ate laxatives but Amy in math class talked about doing those things every day, and she had been homecoming princess three years in a row, so they probably tasted like contentment and belonging. Amy must have a cool mom. All Stephanie's mom let her eat was broccoli and milk, which tasted like loneliness and despondency and Sylvia Plath poems.
"One more thing," Mrs. Petersburg said over her shoulder. "Around 9:00, Stevie turns into a monster."
"Got it," Stephanie said.
Mrs. Petersburg let herself out her front door, pears dangling from her elegant neck as she flashed a lipsticked smile and shut the little girl into the house behind her, stepping off her own front porch, away from the confines of suburban housewifery, away from her life, and out into a different but similarly plastic, contrived facade of existence.
Stephanie locked the door behind the mom and walked around the huge house. She peered into the blonde baby's play cage, where it stood and looked up at her quietly with huge blue eyes. Were one year olds supposed to be able to stand up and watch someone so quietly? Stephanie didn't give a shit.
Stephanie went to the refrigerator, where there was a chicken sandwich wrapped up with a yellow sticky note with her name on it. She helped herself to ice cream, four cookies, and two pieces of cold pizza and shoved them all into the bowl. She then poured a giant glass of coke and curled up on the huge couch to watch nickelodian with the baby. Under her itchy black sweatshirt and the glaring lights of the television, Stephanie quickly drifted to sleep on the cold ornate sofa.
A few hours later she woke up to a sharp sound of something falling in the distance. Stephanie sat up slowly, wiping her eyes as the blurry living room morphed into focus. She pushed her messy hair out of the way and found her glasses. A dark maroon stain trailed across the carpet. Stephanie followed the trail through the living room and the kitchen, leading past the bathroom, into the play room.
A tall, dark creature hunched in the corner. It was covered in black and green scales with puss dripping from it's heaving skin flaps. It was shaking in rage or hunger, giant flipper like feet tapping excitingly. A pile of crap sat neatly on the carpet beneath the monster. It's back was to Stephanie as it knelt over a young man's body, scouring at it's flesh with claws and gobbling it up into it's bloody mouth. Sharp white teeth protruded over curled purple lips. It turned and glared menacingly at the small babysitter.
"Oh, brother," Stephanie muttered, rolling her eyes.
The monster snarled and hissed.
"Stevie, did you like murder this dude?"
The monster let out a belligerent roar, a string of human intestines dangling from it's salivating mouth.
"I can't believe you. Your mom totally said no dessert."
The monster lowered it's head and scratched it's snout with a claw.
"Whatever. I'm getting paid to watch you, not like clean up your mess."
Stephanie went back into the living room and watched some more television. After a while Stevie came back in and began to play with her hair with his bloody claws. He cried when she wouldn't let him sit on her lap because his tail was way too spiky. He peed and pooped and threw his excretion around the pristine room while screeching, totally disrupting Boy Meets World. Eventually Stevie resorted to attempting to devour his shadow until his mother came back from the party.
When Mrs. Petersburg returned she paid the bored teenager and Stephanie let herself out the door, leaving Mrs. Petersburg to grieve her dying sense of hope. Brian was waiting for Stephanie outside in his older brother's jeep. Loud metal music blared from the speakers and he was bobbing his head, pretending to enjoy it, because that was the kind of music 16 year old boys enjoyed, not the Carol King cassettes that had gone missing from his mom's collection and somehow ended up in a shoebox under his bed. Headbanging slightly off beat to the music, he didn't even say hi when Stephanie let herself into the passenger door and scaled the tall step up into the seat.
"Blah blah blah, football, blah blah, farts, blah blah," Brian said, or something similar.
"Hmmm," Stephanie murmured, slumping deep into the seat and chewing on her black fingernails.
"Blah blah, videogames blah blah the same thing over and over for ten minutes," Brian yammered.
Stephanie sucked on the tips of her hair.
"So, uh, my parents aren't home right now," Brian said.
"Oh."
They sat quietly for a few minutes.
"So, like, basically no one is home..."
"Mm-hmm."
"And there's like sodas and shit and no one to drink them..."
"You lonely or something?"
"Nah, bro. I was thinking you should come over. Maybe spend the night. Maybe we could, you know, DO IT."
"Um," Stephanie said.
"Don't be a nerd."
"Okay."
"Really?"
"Um, do you have anything... any condoms...?"
"For my wiener?"
"Yeah."
"No... but there's a plastic baggy."
Stephanie shrugged, picking a scale off her sweater. "No thanks."
"So, we're going to just be very close, just down the street, okay, sweetie?"
"Um, kay," Stephanie mumbled, eyes glued to her untied converse sneakers, barely peaking out of baggy unwashed black jeans.
"Here's the phone number of the house where we'll be, and here's the phone number of the doctor, and the fireman, and the policeman, and the therapist, and the physical therapist, and the physical therapist's boyfriend, just in case."
"Yeah."
Mrs. Petersburg placed one hand on the counter top and balanced so she could hook on her obnoxiously tall high heals, elevating her to a foot above the quiet sixteen year old.
"You can help yourself to anything," Mrs. Petersburg trilled as she hooked her purse over her arm. From beneath heavy black bangs Stephanie furrowed her eye brows. They always said that, that you could help yourself to all of their food. But she had a pretty good idea that if she drank all the beer and ate all the laxatives they wouldn't be okay with it. Stephanie had never drank beer nor ate laxatives but Amy in math class talked about doing those things every day, and she had been homecoming princess three years in a row, so they probably tasted like contentment and belonging. Amy must have a cool mom. All Stephanie's mom let her eat was broccoli and milk, which tasted like loneliness and despondency and Sylvia Plath poems.
"One more thing," Mrs. Petersburg said over her shoulder. "Around 9:00, Stevie turns into a monster."
"Got it," Stephanie said.
Mrs. Petersburg let herself out her front door, pears dangling from her elegant neck as she flashed a lipsticked smile and shut the little girl into the house behind her, stepping off her own front porch, away from the confines of suburban housewifery, away from her life, and out into a different but similarly plastic, contrived facade of existence.
Stephanie locked the door behind the mom and walked around the huge house. She peered into the blonde baby's play cage, where it stood and looked up at her quietly with huge blue eyes. Were one year olds supposed to be able to stand up and watch someone so quietly? Stephanie didn't give a shit.
Stephanie went to the refrigerator, where there was a chicken sandwich wrapped up with a yellow sticky note with her name on it. She helped herself to ice cream, four cookies, and two pieces of cold pizza and shoved them all into the bowl. She then poured a giant glass of coke and curled up on the huge couch to watch nickelodian with the baby. Under her itchy black sweatshirt and the glaring lights of the television, Stephanie quickly drifted to sleep on the cold ornate sofa.
A few hours later she woke up to a sharp sound of something falling in the distance. Stephanie sat up slowly, wiping her eyes as the blurry living room morphed into focus. She pushed her messy hair out of the way and found her glasses. A dark maroon stain trailed across the carpet. Stephanie followed the trail through the living room and the kitchen, leading past the bathroom, into the play room.
A tall, dark creature hunched in the corner. It was covered in black and green scales with puss dripping from it's heaving skin flaps. It was shaking in rage or hunger, giant flipper like feet tapping excitingly. A pile of crap sat neatly on the carpet beneath the monster. It's back was to Stephanie as it knelt over a young man's body, scouring at it's flesh with claws and gobbling it up into it's bloody mouth. Sharp white teeth protruded over curled purple lips. It turned and glared menacingly at the small babysitter.
"Oh, brother," Stephanie muttered, rolling her eyes.
The monster snarled and hissed.
"Stevie, did you like murder this dude?"
The monster let out a belligerent roar, a string of human intestines dangling from it's salivating mouth.
"I can't believe you. Your mom totally said no dessert."
The monster lowered it's head and scratched it's snout with a claw.
"Whatever. I'm getting paid to watch you, not like clean up your mess."
Stephanie went back into the living room and watched some more television. After a while Stevie came back in and began to play with her hair with his bloody claws. He cried when she wouldn't let him sit on her lap because his tail was way too spiky. He peed and pooped and threw his excretion around the pristine room while screeching, totally disrupting Boy Meets World. Eventually Stevie resorted to attempting to devour his shadow until his mother came back from the party.
When Mrs. Petersburg returned she paid the bored teenager and Stephanie let herself out the door, leaving Mrs. Petersburg to grieve her dying sense of hope. Brian was waiting for Stephanie outside in his older brother's jeep. Loud metal music blared from the speakers and he was bobbing his head, pretending to enjoy it, because that was the kind of music 16 year old boys enjoyed, not the Carol King cassettes that had gone missing from his mom's collection and somehow ended up in a shoebox under his bed. Headbanging slightly off beat to the music, he didn't even say hi when Stephanie let herself into the passenger door and scaled the tall step up into the seat.
"Blah blah blah, football, blah blah, farts, blah blah," Brian said, or something similar.
"Hmmm," Stephanie murmured, slumping deep into the seat and chewing on her black fingernails.
"Blah blah, videogames blah blah the same thing over and over for ten minutes," Brian yammered.
Stephanie sucked on the tips of her hair.
"So, uh, my parents aren't home right now," Brian said.
"Oh."
They sat quietly for a few minutes.
"So, like, basically no one is home..."
"Mm-hmm."
"And there's like sodas and shit and no one to drink them..."
"You lonely or something?"
"Nah, bro. I was thinking you should come over. Maybe spend the night. Maybe we could, you know, DO IT."
"Um," Stephanie said.
"Don't be a nerd."
"Okay."
"Really?"
"Um, do you have anything... any condoms...?"
"For my wiener?"
"Yeah."
"No... but there's a plastic baggy."
Stephanie shrugged, picking a scale off her sweater. "No thanks."
Friday, September 2, 2011
another poem I wrote
Floating, a gray translucent orb,
gooey, and oozing, squishing through space
bubbling with tears and transcending through existence
a glowing puss bubble of feelings
levitated through time
and kissed the thoughts and worries
of children in cat shaped masks
running through foggy playgrounds
disappearing in the ghostly dew of the night
a smoky remembrance of juvenescence
dripping with clouds of nostalgia
in broken heart shaped dreams
the orb bounced through
squelching with each turn
throbbing with screams, imminent explosion
like a puppy in heat on a summer city block
chased by children and other dogs
unsure of what they're doing
and yelping in desire and rage
the bubble hovered of piles of dog shit
and swelled into the moonlight
leaving drips of loneliness across the dawn filled park
and floating into nonexistence.
gooey, and oozing, squishing through space
bubbling with tears and transcending through existence
a glowing puss bubble of feelings
levitated through time
and kissed the thoughts and worries
of children in cat shaped masks
running through foggy playgrounds
disappearing in the ghostly dew of the night
a smoky remembrance of juvenescence
dripping with clouds of nostalgia
in broken heart shaped dreams
the orb bounced through
squelching with each turn
throbbing with screams, imminent explosion
like a puppy in heat on a summer city block
chased by children and other dogs
unsure of what they're doing
and yelping in desire and rage
the bubble hovered of piles of dog shit
and swelled into the moonlight
leaving drips of loneliness across the dawn filled park
and floating into nonexistence.
Friday, August 19, 2011
My favorite jokes
1.My mother says she wishes I’d never been born and I don’t think that’s true. Because then she’d have a 26 year old man living inside of her. –Dan Mintz
2. "I made out with my best friend in college and he's a nice guy, but kissing him was like kissing my brother. If my brother weren't the best kisser ever."—Mo Welch
3. When I finished high school I wanted to take all my graduation money and buy myself a motorcycle. Buy my mom said no. See, she had a brother who died in a horrible motorcycle accident when he was 18. And I could just have his motorcycle. –Anthony Jeselnik
4.We got a call that my grandma is going to die. And I know this might sound insensitive. But I am not going to pay that ransom.
–Anthony Jeselnik
5.Outside of a dog a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read. –Groucho Marx.
6.“I like to play music during sex. But it’s mostly because my parents spent so much money on trumpet lessons.”—Ken Barnard
7. "What do you guys think about these thought crimes? Nothing I hope!" -Mike Drucker
8. "I don't know if Tyra Banks is a deep person. I bet as a child she never wondered what would happen if she ate that piece of poop." -Rylee Newton
9. "When I get back to LA I'm going to have to go see my doctor because I've been feeling really... attracted to him." -Wendy Liebman
10. I'm not looking for much in a guy, I just want, like, a really nice guy who has, you know, like a job... and the missing half of this golden amulet. –Maria Bamford
11. My old lip color could barely keep up with my busy schedule. In the time it takes to notice the wide discrepancy between my salary and that of my male peers, I'd have to reapply! In the seconds to count the number of women in high political office, seated on corporate executive boards and featured in film and television over the age of 40, my lip color would be as invisible as this glass ceiling only inches above my head! L'Oreal. Because I am worth. And because holding myself to an impossible standard of beauty keeps me from starting a riot! – Maria Bamford
12. As a vegetarian I do support gay marriage, because it’s like “you guys eat animals… what’s next, you’re going to eat gay people?” –Myq Kaplan
13. "Growing up I used to think that my dad was a vampire because he never showed up in any of my pictures." -Rylee Newton
14. “The easiest time to add insult to injury is when you’re signing somebody’s cast.” -Demetri Martin
15. "I do like the south. I'm from the south. So I'm prejudiced." -Emo Phillips.
16. “I could never be in a porno because the director would have to keep yelling at me not to fall in love." -Mike Drucker
17. I was an altar boy when I was a kid, and the answer is 'no.' -Mike Birbiglia
18. “I read an article that said, 'Car accidents happen closest to home.' Does that mean that orphans are better drivers? No, if you think about it, it makes sense. 'Cause they'd have more time to practice when they're not being loved by anyone.” –Jon Dore
19. “I’m a pretty shy person. My number one pet peeve is when my loud extroverted friends are like ‘No Aparna, don’t feel weird, I’m actually shy too, we all are a little bit.’ Don’t do that. Don’t take the one thing I have to cling to this world to in the fetal position preferably. If you say you’re shy you need the street cred to back it up. You need to earn it. Have you ever been kicked out of the library for being too quiet? ‘Sorry, miss, but you’ve been here for days.’ ‘But my friends live in the pages!’” –Aparna Nancherla
20. (doing her muppet character) “Black muppets dance like this… white muppets dance like this… green muppets dance like this… pink muppets dance like this…” (does the same dance every time) –Aparna Nancherla
21. "I went to a funeral and they handed out tissues before the ceremony, which I thought was kind of cocky." - Mike Birbiglia.
22. “My grandpa said in my day that dollar would have bought me a full meal. I said Grandpa in your day that dollar would have gotten you arrested for spending money from the future.” –Erik Bergstrom
23. "If you're gonna buy a book about how to pick up chicks, make sure to check to copyright date, so you don't end up like me, standing on a corner, leaning against a lampost flipping a quarter." -Jesse Popp.
24. "If I ever meet a homophob who's like 'It's Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve' I'd be like 'Don't you mean it's Adam and Eve not Madam and Eve?' because I feel like women have made it far enough in history to earn equal billing in catchy hate slogans. Can't we at least get in on some of that sweet sweet lesbian bigotry? Haven't we suffraged enough? Uh oh history pun, she's a witch burn her!" -Aparna Nancherla
25. "My boyfriend's trying to get me to eat healthier. Like for breakfast I like to have a cup choc-chip ice cream with some choc chips up top, sweet power surge get the little lady started. And my boyfriend, my boyfriend he's like why don't you have some whole wheat toast with a bu-nu-nu spread upon it. Because that's good. You can't change people. You can't change me. I'm a gypsy. I'm a SEA COW. Yeah, I know the motorboats are going to hit me, but this is where I fucking swim!" - Maria Bamford
2. "I made out with my best friend in college and he's a nice guy, but kissing him was like kissing my brother. If my brother weren't the best kisser ever."—Mo Welch
3. When I finished high school I wanted to take all my graduation money and buy myself a motorcycle. Buy my mom said no. See, she had a brother who died in a horrible motorcycle accident when he was 18. And I could just have his motorcycle. –Anthony Jeselnik
4.We got a call that my grandma is going to die. And I know this might sound insensitive. But I am not going to pay that ransom.
–Anthony Jeselnik
5.Outside of a dog a book is man’s best friend. Inside of a dog it’s too dark to read. –Groucho Marx.
6.“I like to play music during sex. But it’s mostly because my parents spent so much money on trumpet lessons.”—Ken Barnard
7. "What do you guys think about these thought crimes? Nothing I hope!" -Mike Drucker
8. "I don't know if Tyra Banks is a deep person. I bet as a child she never wondered what would happen if she ate that piece of poop." -Rylee Newton
9. "When I get back to LA I'm going to have to go see my doctor because I've been feeling really... attracted to him." -Wendy Liebman
10. I'm not looking for much in a guy, I just want, like, a really nice guy who has, you know, like a job... and the missing half of this golden amulet. –Maria Bamford
11. My old lip color could barely keep up with my busy schedule. In the time it takes to notice the wide discrepancy between my salary and that of my male peers, I'd have to reapply! In the seconds to count the number of women in high political office, seated on corporate executive boards and featured in film and television over the age of 40, my lip color would be as invisible as this glass ceiling only inches above my head! L'Oreal. Because I am worth. And because holding myself to an impossible standard of beauty keeps me from starting a riot! – Maria Bamford
12. As a vegetarian I do support gay marriage, because it’s like “you guys eat animals… what’s next, you’re going to eat gay people?” –Myq Kaplan
13. "Growing up I used to think that my dad was a vampire because he never showed up in any of my pictures." -Rylee Newton
14. “The easiest time to add insult to injury is when you’re signing somebody’s cast.” -Demetri Martin
15. "I do like the south. I'm from the south. So I'm prejudiced." -Emo Phillips.
16. “I could never be in a porno because the director would have to keep yelling at me not to fall in love." -Mike Drucker
17. I was an altar boy when I was a kid, and the answer is 'no.' -Mike Birbiglia
18. “I read an article that said, 'Car accidents happen closest to home.' Does that mean that orphans are better drivers? No, if you think about it, it makes sense. 'Cause they'd have more time to practice when they're not being loved by anyone.” –Jon Dore
19. “I’m a pretty shy person. My number one pet peeve is when my loud extroverted friends are like ‘No Aparna, don’t feel weird, I’m actually shy too, we all are a little bit.’ Don’t do that. Don’t take the one thing I have to cling to this world to in the fetal position preferably. If you say you’re shy you need the street cred to back it up. You need to earn it. Have you ever been kicked out of the library for being too quiet? ‘Sorry, miss, but you’ve been here for days.’ ‘But my friends live in the pages!’” –Aparna Nancherla
20. (doing her muppet character) “Black muppets dance like this… white muppets dance like this… green muppets dance like this… pink muppets dance like this…” (does the same dance every time) –Aparna Nancherla
21. "I went to a funeral and they handed out tissues before the ceremony, which I thought was kind of cocky." - Mike Birbiglia.
22. “My grandpa said in my day that dollar would have bought me a full meal. I said Grandpa in your day that dollar would have gotten you arrested for spending money from the future.” –Erik Bergstrom
23. "If you're gonna buy a book about how to pick up chicks, make sure to check to copyright date, so you don't end up like me, standing on a corner, leaning against a lampost flipping a quarter." -Jesse Popp.
24. "If I ever meet a homophob who's like 'It's Adam and Eve not Adam and Steve' I'd be like 'Don't you mean it's Adam and Eve not Madam and Eve?' because I feel like women have made it far enough in history to earn equal billing in catchy hate slogans. Can't we at least get in on some of that sweet sweet lesbian bigotry? Haven't we suffraged enough? Uh oh history pun, she's a witch burn her!" -Aparna Nancherla
25. "My boyfriend's trying to get me to eat healthier. Like for breakfast I like to have a cup choc-chip ice cream with some choc chips up top, sweet power surge get the little lady started. And my boyfriend, my boyfriend he's like why don't you have some whole wheat toast with a bu-nu-nu spread upon it. Because that's good. You can't change people. You can't change me. I'm a gypsy. I'm a SEA COW. Yeah, I know the motorboats are going to hit me, but this is where I fucking swim!" - Maria Bamford
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
walking home
Alex rolled over beneath puddles of starch sheets and put her head under the pillow. The blankets were scratchy against her skin like a crumpled up boring love letter. The room was dark but her sharp eyes could make out outlines and shadows creeping beneath the closet door. Her heart beat accelerated it's rhythm. The throbbing rumbled deep inside of her like underneath piles of her flesh someone from the blue man group was play drums. She anxiously itched at her skin.
"You okay, baby?" yelped the sleeping smelly heap of human being lifeform next to her. Jeremy's eyes were closed and drool oozed onto the pillow. Droplets of hot moisture absorbed into the cotton. Tired growling snoring blustered in his nostrils like a foghorn on a ghost ship of dreams.
Without saying anything Alex crept out from the bed, careful not to disturb Jeremy. She slipped out of bed and padded barefoot downstairs. In the cool kitchen, she breathed slowly, grasping a chair for balance. She filled a glass with tap water and drank it in one gulp.
Alex caught her reflection watching her from the dark window, a picturesque blend of the trees and darkness outside blended with the reflection of the dull suburban kitchen in a blender of loneliness and disconnection.
"It's getting harder to hide myself from him," she whispered to her reflection.
Her reflection remained silent, duh, watching from eyes slightly ajar behind the clumpy mass of face. She knew she didn't belong here, with him, with anyone, anywhere.
Itching to get out of the confining skin, she reached behind her ponytail, deep into her thick hair and fingered the tiny silver zipper with her first finger and thumb. Delicately, pulling through tangles of hair, she tugged the zipper down her skull, sliding the tiny mechanism down her neck. A draft of fresh air kissed her real head as she swept her hair to the side and the human skin unzipped and peeled away. Pulling away the human skin suit, Alex released herself into the kitchen, feeling like a smelly mermaid reaching for the surface and erupting into the sunlight and then remembering mermaids can't breathe oxygen anyway because they have gills. Then the mermaid would suffocate and die above the water and Alex would laugh at it because mermaids are silly skanks.
Alex stepped out of the crumpled pile of human flesh, hair, and pajamas, nudging the prison of conformity with her scaly clawed toe. Naked and free, she itched her puke green lizard body with one of her long six fingered paws. Her tail scraped the floor while she yanked at undesirable tufts of fur poking out of the hard shelled alligator skin.
Looking back at her reflection, Alex saw what she really was and smiled. Her giant glaring green nostrils flared with joy and desire. An evil glint glowed in her stony eyes and her fish like lips curled, revealing long sharp white teeth in a hungry grin. No one could ever know what she was, but safe beneath blankets of never-gonna-be-the-prom-queen-anywhere, her true form was kinda pretty.
She had been dating Jeremy for a few weeks and she was getting ready to run again. He was getting to close to discovering who she really was. When they were humping he almost felt her tail bulge under the skin suit, but he kept on going, like a human man does, you know, the grown up adult sexual intercourse way... like with the candles and the Barry White. Like fornication. Right? Yes? Soon he would know she was a freak and he would leave her, or he would turn her in to the FBI or he would have a nervous breakdown and kill himself. All of those things had happened before, but she hoped it was the latter so she could at least get dinner out of it.
Alex picked up her limp human skin suit and swung it around her neck like a pretentious hipster scarf. Hobbling in the darkness, she walked out of Jeremy's house and into the night. Past streetlights and garbage cans, she paced the dirty sidewalk in her natural form. She knew if someone saw her, even one of her loved ones, they would scream or shoot her, but she actually felt more safe without the suit. Dogs barked at her as she slinked through the night. It was times like this she almost thought about going back up to the mountains, finding a nice cave and holing herself up away from people, away from everyone, away from lines at the cafeteria, away from strangers touching her accidentally on the bus, away from coworkers talking, away from feelings.
The escape wasn't enough, though. Alex knew seclusion would never be enough. The skin suit dangled from her shoulders in a wave like a cape for the most pointless depressing super hero ever. She pressed it to her lips and anxiously gnawed on it as she walked home: soaking in the taste of Jeremy's sweat and semen and her own strange sweet scent. Rain drizzled on her lizard head as she sang an old folk song to herself in the night.
"You okay, baby?" yelped the sleeping smelly heap of human being lifeform next to her. Jeremy's eyes were closed and drool oozed onto the pillow. Droplets of hot moisture absorbed into the cotton. Tired growling snoring blustered in his nostrils like a foghorn on a ghost ship of dreams.
Without saying anything Alex crept out from the bed, careful not to disturb Jeremy. She slipped out of bed and padded barefoot downstairs. In the cool kitchen, she breathed slowly, grasping a chair for balance. She filled a glass with tap water and drank it in one gulp.
Alex caught her reflection watching her from the dark window, a picturesque blend of the trees and darkness outside blended with the reflection of the dull suburban kitchen in a blender of loneliness and disconnection.
"It's getting harder to hide myself from him," she whispered to her reflection.
Her reflection remained silent, duh, watching from eyes slightly ajar behind the clumpy mass of face. She knew she didn't belong here, with him, with anyone, anywhere.
Itching to get out of the confining skin, she reached behind her ponytail, deep into her thick hair and fingered the tiny silver zipper with her first finger and thumb. Delicately, pulling through tangles of hair, she tugged the zipper down her skull, sliding the tiny mechanism down her neck. A draft of fresh air kissed her real head as she swept her hair to the side and the human skin unzipped and peeled away. Pulling away the human skin suit, Alex released herself into the kitchen, feeling like a smelly mermaid reaching for the surface and erupting into the sunlight and then remembering mermaids can't breathe oxygen anyway because they have gills. Then the mermaid would suffocate and die above the water and Alex would laugh at it because mermaids are silly skanks.
Alex stepped out of the crumpled pile of human flesh, hair, and pajamas, nudging the prison of conformity with her scaly clawed toe. Naked and free, she itched her puke green lizard body with one of her long six fingered paws. Her tail scraped the floor while she yanked at undesirable tufts of fur poking out of the hard shelled alligator skin.
Looking back at her reflection, Alex saw what she really was and smiled. Her giant glaring green nostrils flared with joy and desire. An evil glint glowed in her stony eyes and her fish like lips curled, revealing long sharp white teeth in a hungry grin. No one could ever know what she was, but safe beneath blankets of never-gonna-be-the-prom-queen-anywhere, her true form was kinda pretty.
She had been dating Jeremy for a few weeks and she was getting ready to run again. He was getting to close to discovering who she really was. When they were humping he almost felt her tail bulge under the skin suit, but he kept on going, like a human man does, you know, the grown up adult sexual intercourse way... like with the candles and the Barry White. Like fornication. Right? Yes? Soon he would know she was a freak and he would leave her, or he would turn her in to the FBI or he would have a nervous breakdown and kill himself. All of those things had happened before, but she hoped it was the latter so she could at least get dinner out of it.
Alex picked up her limp human skin suit and swung it around her neck like a pretentious hipster scarf. Hobbling in the darkness, she walked out of Jeremy's house and into the night. Past streetlights and garbage cans, she paced the dirty sidewalk in her natural form. She knew if someone saw her, even one of her loved ones, they would scream or shoot her, but she actually felt more safe without the suit. Dogs barked at her as she slinked through the night. It was times like this she almost thought about going back up to the mountains, finding a nice cave and holing herself up away from people, away from everyone, away from lines at the cafeteria, away from strangers touching her accidentally on the bus, away from coworkers talking, away from feelings.
The escape wasn't enough, though. Alex knew seclusion would never be enough. The skin suit dangled from her shoulders in a wave like a cape for the most pointless depressing super hero ever. She pressed it to her lips and anxiously gnawed on it as she walked home: soaking in the taste of Jeremy's sweat and semen and her own strange sweet scent. Rain drizzled on her lizard head as she sang an old folk song to herself in the night.
Monday, August 15, 2011
give them a hug for me...
Stephanie: Oh, hey, Steve, what are you doing later?
Steve: Getting drinks with Adam.
Stephanie: Oh, Adam? Give him this for me.
(Stephanie hugs Steve tightly)
Steve: Give him that hug?
Stephanie: Yeah.
Steve: Okay. What are you doing later?
Stephanie: Yup. Seeing a movie with Delilah.
Steve: Cool, can you give her this for me?
(Steve kisses Stephanie on the mouth)
Stephanie: Um, yeah. Okay.
Steve: Thanks, buddy.
Stephanie: Are you going to see Bernadette tomorrow?
Steve: Sure. Probably.
Stephanie: Great, can you give her this from me?
(Stephanie bends Steve over and humps his butt. Then she lifts her arm up and wipes the armpit sweat off into her hand and smears it onto his face and cries into a cup and gives it to him to drink, after drinking it she slaps him.)
Steve: Right, okay, got it. Um, are you going to see Brad later?
Stephanie: Yes.
Steve: Can you give him this for me?
(Steve hands Stephanie a cd.)
Steve: He left it at my house last week.
Stephanie: I don't know if I'm comfortable handling that. Why don't you give it to him yourself?
Steve: Getting drinks with Adam.
Stephanie: Oh, Adam? Give him this for me.
(Stephanie hugs Steve tightly)
Steve: Give him that hug?
Stephanie: Yeah.
Steve: Okay. What are you doing later?
Stephanie: Yup. Seeing a movie with Delilah.
Steve: Cool, can you give her this for me?
(Steve kisses Stephanie on the mouth)
Stephanie: Um, yeah. Okay.
Steve: Thanks, buddy.
Stephanie: Are you going to see Bernadette tomorrow?
Steve: Sure. Probably.
Stephanie: Great, can you give her this from me?
(Stephanie bends Steve over and humps his butt. Then she lifts her arm up and wipes the armpit sweat off into her hand and smears it onto his face and cries into a cup and gives it to him to drink, after drinking it she slaps him.)
Steve: Right, okay, got it. Um, are you going to see Brad later?
Stephanie: Yes.
Steve: Can you give him this for me?
(Steve hands Stephanie a cd.)
Steve: He left it at my house last week.
Stephanie: I don't know if I'm comfortable handling that. Why don't you give it to him yourself?
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
changes
Mom said it happens to all the girls, but I think she was just trying to make me feel better. In the same breath she warned me not to talk about it to school because the girls it hadn't happened to yet would be embarrassed and jealous that I got it first. I went to school the next few days obsessively staring at all the other little girls, staring at their bottoms, their tiny breasts, their arm hairs, wondering if they were going through what I was.
Mom had to buy me all new underwear, because I ruined mine. She bought me a lot of new dresses and skirts so no one would notice. She said I was going to experience a lot of changes in my body and my emotions and to be read for that. I got special deodorant for my new hormonal armpits. Mom made it sound like a privilege, but I just felt like a disgusting freak. I asked if it would happen to my little brother and she said no, it only happened to girls, and I thought that was unfair.
After a few weeks the tail stopped growing. It was about four inches long and soft and fuzzy. I had to cut holes in my panties so it wouldn't chafe against my skin. It was a bright turquoise blue, but Mom said that color could change. It wagged when I was really excited, bounced to the beat of any music, and flattened when I was sad. It was hard to see without a mirror. Now I know why dogs are always running in circles. Luckily, unlike dogs, I'm not an idiot.
Soon the hair on my body had thickened and darkened to a electric teal. This was when I worried I was a little bit different. I wore long baggy clothes to cover all of my arms and legs, grateful the fur hadn't spread to my face yet. I looked at adult women, wondering if they shaved their fur off. Mom said I couldn't shave it off, that it would grow back thicker. I thought it was an old wive's tale so I locked myself in the bathroom and spent an hour meticulously shaving a small patch on my stomach. When it was smooth I put the razor on the sink and victoriously looked at myself in the mirror. Within seconds the hair had grown back, twice as long as it had been. I cried into my furry blue paws and didn't emerge from the bathroom for hours.
My ears enlarged enough to poke out of my hair and my horns grew in gnarled and pointy. I stopped going to school. I could have worn a hat but the fashions of Blossom were going out of style. When I decided to homeschool myself, I didn't even discuss it with my parents. They just woke up one morning and I was sitting on the couch watching television instead of getting on the bus. It was Clarissa Explains it All, not that this part matters, but it's a really good show and you guys should check it out; maybe it's on netflix.
"I'm a monster," I cried to mom. My brother was hiding around the corner, terrified of me. My mother held me in her arms.
"We all are. You're just better at it than others. You're an overachiever."
My habits evolved. I didn't like sleeping in my bed anymore; I preferred to lurk in closets and under the bed. I no longer had an appetite for pizza and soda. I now hungered for blood and human flesh, wouldn't you? Mom taught me to feast only on emotions like despair and loneliness and defeat. These things weren't as delicious but they were filling. Sucking out the passions of civilians got dull occasionally. Sometimes I would slip up and accidentally devour a bratty child or a postal worker. When I came home with human blood smeared over my furry face, staining my sharp pointed teeth and leathery lips, my parents looked at me in disappointment. "Did you devour an innocent life form? That's so Barbara!" They would tease.
When I ate my brother it was the only time they scolded me. I felt bad but he was so tantalizingly scrumptious. They forced me to defecate him out using laxatives and meatmucil. They duct taped him back up together. I felt bad, but we monsters are somewhat attracted to fear. As that emotion diminished, he became less tempting. He became accustomed to my terrifying monstrosity. As he grew bigger than me he became more comfortable and to this day he will pet me and take me for walks at night so I can howl at the moon and crap in the yard and he would have to pick it up and put in a doggy bag for me because that's what love looks like.
Mom had to buy me all new underwear, because I ruined mine. She bought me a lot of new dresses and skirts so no one would notice. She said I was going to experience a lot of changes in my body and my emotions and to be read for that. I got special deodorant for my new hormonal armpits. Mom made it sound like a privilege, but I just felt like a disgusting freak. I asked if it would happen to my little brother and she said no, it only happened to girls, and I thought that was unfair.
After a few weeks the tail stopped growing. It was about four inches long and soft and fuzzy. I had to cut holes in my panties so it wouldn't chafe against my skin. It was a bright turquoise blue, but Mom said that color could change. It wagged when I was really excited, bounced to the beat of any music, and flattened when I was sad. It was hard to see without a mirror. Now I know why dogs are always running in circles. Luckily, unlike dogs, I'm not an idiot.
Soon the hair on my body had thickened and darkened to a electric teal. This was when I worried I was a little bit different. I wore long baggy clothes to cover all of my arms and legs, grateful the fur hadn't spread to my face yet. I looked at adult women, wondering if they shaved their fur off. Mom said I couldn't shave it off, that it would grow back thicker. I thought it was an old wive's tale so I locked myself in the bathroom and spent an hour meticulously shaving a small patch on my stomach. When it was smooth I put the razor on the sink and victoriously looked at myself in the mirror. Within seconds the hair had grown back, twice as long as it had been. I cried into my furry blue paws and didn't emerge from the bathroom for hours.
My ears enlarged enough to poke out of my hair and my horns grew in gnarled and pointy. I stopped going to school. I could have worn a hat but the fashions of Blossom were going out of style. When I decided to homeschool myself, I didn't even discuss it with my parents. They just woke up one morning and I was sitting on the couch watching television instead of getting on the bus. It was Clarissa Explains it All, not that this part matters, but it's a really good show and you guys should check it out; maybe it's on netflix.
"I'm a monster," I cried to mom. My brother was hiding around the corner, terrified of me. My mother held me in her arms.
"We all are. You're just better at it than others. You're an overachiever."
My habits evolved. I didn't like sleeping in my bed anymore; I preferred to lurk in closets and under the bed. I no longer had an appetite for pizza and soda. I now hungered for blood and human flesh, wouldn't you? Mom taught me to feast only on emotions like despair and loneliness and defeat. These things weren't as delicious but they were filling. Sucking out the passions of civilians got dull occasionally. Sometimes I would slip up and accidentally devour a bratty child or a postal worker. When I came home with human blood smeared over my furry face, staining my sharp pointed teeth and leathery lips, my parents looked at me in disappointment. "Did you devour an innocent life form? That's so Barbara!" They would tease.
When I ate my brother it was the only time they scolded me. I felt bad but he was so tantalizingly scrumptious. They forced me to defecate him out using laxatives and meatmucil. They duct taped him back up together. I felt bad, but we monsters are somewhat attracted to fear. As that emotion diminished, he became less tempting. He became accustomed to my terrifying monstrosity. As he grew bigger than me he became more comfortable and to this day he will pet me and take me for walks at night so I can howl at the moon and crap in the yard and he would have to pick it up and put in a doggy bag for me because that's what love looks like.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Night Garden
Alison lay in bed listening to the clock tick loudly. Next to her, Greg wasn't snoring, just laying silently. Sometimes she wondered if he was really awake and listening when this was happening. She quietly leaned over, careful not to disrupt the covers or shift her weight too much. Her long wavy blonde hair fell across her shoulders like a curtain. She placed her ear next to his head and held her breath, listening to his sleeping dreams. At first she didn't hear anything, but she quieted her own anxious thoughts, closed her eyes and listened harder. She heard Greg dreaming of going to the gym, where only trees were allowed to work out, and he was trying to jog on the treadmill but one of the trees kept making small talk while asking him to name state capitols.
Alison smiled at her sleeping friend with benefits/ boyfriend/ hook up partner/ human being she intercoursed with. No one really knew, or ever knows, what's going on. People her age didn't really date anymore in the city. They didn't ask each other out or tell anyone they had romantic feelings for one another, or express vulnerability or intimacy. They just imbibed beer off their tits and intercoursed their friends of the opposite gender. If they did it like a few times in a row maybe they could consider that a relationship. And if they did it and one of them spent the night a few nights in row maybe the darkness in their brains would stop screaming long enough for the sea cows to climb out through their ears and butter their necks like burnt hairy toast. Alison didn't care.
Alison silently climbed out of bed and wandered down stairs. The clean quiet kitchen reminded her of being a child and sneaking downstairs to hear her parents yell at each other. It was a peaceful, relaxing hole in the universe she could dive into and swim through the nostalgia. The light of the night slipped in from an undisclosed inexplicable source. Blue silver beams whispered around like soft silky lingerie over the white and beige tile and cabinets. Anytime she was awake somewhere that wasn't lit by sunlight or fluorescent yellow bulbs, she felt like she was up early at summer camp, wading alone through the grayness to the dock by the lake. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it and then had a second glass.
Taking her glass of water with her, Alison walked outside into the front lawn. She looked up and down the silent streets and was disturbed by the stillness. She crouched in the front area, set the cup down, and dug a small hole in the earth with her hands. She sighed as the cool moist dirt drifted through her fingers, emptying away at a particular part of the world, gouging into something, extricating the dark filth of it's porous soul, and piling the remnants somewhere else, equally in the way.
When she had a small hole neatly created in the front lawn, Alison squat above it and lowered her pajama pants to her ankles. Balancing herself over the hole, she flexed her thighs, keigels, and bum hole muscles. Shutting her eyes tightly, she grunted and groaned, sucking in air as she strained and pushed. She rocked back and forth, almost losing her place in the world, the existence, the universe. A bat flew into the tree above her making a high pitched screeching noise and knocking a bouquet of leaves belligerently to the ground.
After a few minutes of pressure, Alison let a small bloody mess out of her. Looking up at her without any eyes, it made a screaming noise like a cat being beaten as it fell from her body into the hole. Oozing with blood and shit and goo, it wriggled and bulged against the earth. Kneeling beside the hole, Alison smiled sadly and began to use her hands to bury the mass of sticky globs into the hole. One entombed she patted the dirt clumped on top neatly and reached for her water glass. She took a sip of tepid water and dumped the remnants on the fresh grave, letting the delicious mixture of hydrogen and oxygen satiate the soil.
She lay down and whisper-sang to the ground a song about death and going down in a boat under a waterfall into oblivion and never waking up again. Kissing the dirty gently she leaned back on her heels, sitting in the dew soaked grass. As the sunlight crept it's cold bright fingers over her small city, a green leafy sprout sprung from the ground and a pink flower budded and bloomed into being. Alison plucked the flower, held it in her fingers, and turned her back on the ascending morning.
When Greg came downstairs, Alison had already made a pot of coffee. Still in her pajamas, with her hair messed up and flowing down her shoulders, she was sitting at the table reading her newspaper. On the counter sat a crystal vase with one single newly plucked pink flower.
Alison smiled at her sleeping friend with benefits/ boyfriend/ hook up partner/ human being she intercoursed with. No one really knew, or ever knows, what's going on. People her age didn't really date anymore in the city. They didn't ask each other out or tell anyone they had romantic feelings for one another, or express vulnerability or intimacy. They just imbibed beer off their tits and intercoursed their friends of the opposite gender. If they did it like a few times in a row maybe they could consider that a relationship. And if they did it and one of them spent the night a few nights in row maybe the darkness in their brains would stop screaming long enough for the sea cows to climb out through their ears and butter their necks like burnt hairy toast. Alison didn't care.
Alison silently climbed out of bed and wandered down stairs. The clean quiet kitchen reminded her of being a child and sneaking downstairs to hear her parents yell at each other. It was a peaceful, relaxing hole in the universe she could dive into and swim through the nostalgia. The light of the night slipped in from an undisclosed inexplicable source. Blue silver beams whispered around like soft silky lingerie over the white and beige tile and cabinets. Anytime she was awake somewhere that wasn't lit by sunlight or fluorescent yellow bulbs, she felt like she was up early at summer camp, wading alone through the grayness to the dock by the lake. She poured herself a glass of water and drank it and then had a second glass.
Taking her glass of water with her, Alison walked outside into the front lawn. She looked up and down the silent streets and was disturbed by the stillness. She crouched in the front area, set the cup down, and dug a small hole in the earth with her hands. She sighed as the cool moist dirt drifted through her fingers, emptying away at a particular part of the world, gouging into something, extricating the dark filth of it's porous soul, and piling the remnants somewhere else, equally in the way.
When she had a small hole neatly created in the front lawn, Alison squat above it and lowered her pajama pants to her ankles. Balancing herself over the hole, she flexed her thighs, keigels, and bum hole muscles. Shutting her eyes tightly, she grunted and groaned, sucking in air as she strained and pushed. She rocked back and forth, almost losing her place in the world, the existence, the universe. A bat flew into the tree above her making a high pitched screeching noise and knocking a bouquet of leaves belligerently to the ground.
After a few minutes of pressure, Alison let a small bloody mess out of her. Looking up at her without any eyes, it made a screaming noise like a cat being beaten as it fell from her body into the hole. Oozing with blood and shit and goo, it wriggled and bulged against the earth. Kneeling beside the hole, Alison smiled sadly and began to use her hands to bury the mass of sticky globs into the hole. One entombed she patted the dirt clumped on top neatly and reached for her water glass. She took a sip of tepid water and dumped the remnants on the fresh grave, letting the delicious mixture of hydrogen and oxygen satiate the soil.
She lay down and whisper-sang to the ground a song about death and going down in a boat under a waterfall into oblivion and never waking up again. Kissing the dirty gently she leaned back on her heels, sitting in the dew soaked grass. As the sunlight crept it's cold bright fingers over her small city, a green leafy sprout sprung from the ground and a pink flower budded and bloomed into being. Alison plucked the flower, held it in her fingers, and turned her back on the ascending morning.
When Greg came downstairs, Alison had already made a pot of coffee. Still in her pajamas, with her hair messed up and flowing down her shoulders, she was sitting at the table reading her newspaper. On the counter sat a crystal vase with one single newly plucked pink flower.
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