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250 Words Or Less On Elvis
rocket pod planted firm but rubbery leglets on pod plantable planet. nothing like home
for the holidays. school was really breaking rocket pod's occupant, zeal. zeal had more to think about in a given time-spot
than regular pod planet inhabitants. zeal was going for it all.
two months prior to graduation from galactic glamschool,
zeal's instructor at the academy of glam, set forth a challenge to all of her students. write 250 words or less on elvis.
zeal saw immediately that this would be a problem but bit a tongue and proceeded to scribble intently as if in contemplation
of a newly forming idea. zeal was really just putting together a plan to visit the pod planet popular people museum.
rocket pod touched down on pod planet and zeal pocketed a prewritten plan.
secreting into the museum of popular
people; zeal sidled up next to the wax and nano-synaptic wiring that was: elvis. he never left this building. zeal knew it
and was excited that no one else had gotten to elvis before now.
zeal dropped the glass eating cackazoids onto
the case entombing the king and proceeded to step inside the case. slowly, and with deliberate good hand-writing, zeal wrote
250 words or less. on elvis.
*thanks to Jeff Rose for suggesting this "contest" awhile back. it was fun
oh fuck, i'm a victim
[thank you, v. rabinowicz]
she called us all together. she made us go down
into the living room in front of the fireplace. i dont recall if there was a fire. my brothers looked as excited in their
fear as i was. my mother had made accusations against her children before but nothing like the one that sprung from mommys
lips that day. honey. your father and i [look to daddy in his chair. he was looking down] think that you are a lesbian. [quickly]
now, it's ok, if you are. we just wanted to let you know that.
incredible gusts of laughter from my older brother.
confusion on my younger brothers face.
no eyes from my papa.
i say nothing and leave the room
as she sputters, they gust, look down and are confused.
i'll prove to you what you want is in me stupid bitch.
there's an international student festival at my high school that week. fate?
there he was. the guy that
i chose to pseudo break my hymen for me. break me in. he was hot and not like all the local yokels. i couldnt wait to learn
from him about his country and his life and his language.
pseudo break?
yeah. mom also forgot to tell
me anything about my first period. i remember running to her scared shitless because i just started to bleed and couldnt figure
out from where or what was happening. she just told me to jam a tampon in. i tried and came back out of our yellow bathroom.
"it hurts so much." "its just like that, dear. only the first time. just keep pushing"
fucking
bitch! i was breaking my freaking hymen in there. crying and wondering why my period had to hurt so bad.
i get with
the guy and he's charming as all hell. our first time being sexually active together [my first all together] included cum
in the eye and a full moon. he came on my breasts and in my eye and then went to the bathroom down the hall to clean up. i
was in the men's dorm at the college and wondered what to clean up with. there was no women's restroom in that building. inconsiderate
bastard. should i have just known or something that this was an asshole clue?
he's charming alright. all over every
girl he sees but for some reason, he keeps it from me. tells his buddies that he can make me do anything. he really loved
me. lots of bullshit.
then the lotion nights began. i didnt know what to do at first. i didnt know what he was doing
at first. cajoling. lotion. cajoling. no one should have to endure a dick up the ass with only jergens for lubricant. my god.
that hurt. getting my head smashed into the wall so hard that my neck felt broken was no picnic either. no stories for my
parents. no stories about the pain and my refusing him and his man-handling me into submission. no stories because i was so
ashamed that i went back to him. i thought this was just how it was done.
again and again. lotion nights and bleeding
and semen down my legs. squeezing my cheeks together and wrapping my clothes around me so i could make it down to the exit
doors to clean up across the yard in the gal's dorm. the quizzical looks at my late night, high-school girl intrusion into
their world.
his arm around me. his semen in my eye. his seed in my ass and belly. his wife just gave birth this
year, i heard from my pal in texas. he's become a bigger drunk. our kid would have been ten this year.
fear? innocence.
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Private Noir
naked pools of sweat shone up at the beam of my flashlight in the dark. Brok was angling for escape
but i wanted him to maneuver for release. his angry silence only provoked me and i pulled a knife from my pack. his eyes got
wide the closer i got to his tightly nude form.
"i'm here to get you out, you ninny," i said as i sawed
at the thick ropes around his wrists.
he still didn't say anything as i worked at the ropes.
when i managed
to free one of his hands he angrily pulled the gag and kerchief off of his mouth and hissed, "when i want your help,
Merita, i'll always feel free to ask for it. just now, i was waiting for the best sex that prostitution has to offer! jesus
woman, just leave. i'll be back out on the street with you before you can count to 200"
i was shocked. we were
in this neighborhood to do a job. how could he use his badge and gun to bully these women into this type of bribe? how had
he gotten into this situation so quickly? had he ever been here before? and, why had he never asked me to join him?
working quickly, i tied him back up and ran my knife down his belly towards his glistening privates. spit shone like diamonds
on his purple head and i realized that he wasnt exactly alone even now. i felt like a fool and quickly shoved the knife back
into my pack without looking around in the dark and let the flashlight pick my way out of this total humiliation.
X, Y and Z
Breathing slow and low. Stroking the cat that would leave tomorrow or the next day. I thought
of dissipating into the thin air and slipping out through the windows onto the balcony. Maybe then, i could slither around
and wind my way about the cactus out there...ultimately healing myself on the aloe.
I could then brush off and up
into the high night air with the clicking beetles and escape the water running over my bio-bag in the aquarium inside the
house. Sure, the fish love the fresh water rushing into their tank through charcoal bits, but i start feeling my insomnia
the louder the sound of rushing water becomes.
It's supposed to be soothing. All I want to do is become the air.
Rush in and out of the little frogs and crickets out there as music. Maybe get trapped in an asthmatic old frog's lung and
get carried down to long branch creek. I could escape just long enough there as a bubble to get swallowed whole by a water-colored
minnow. Just in time to get the fish confused and get snapped across my width by a large, tan crayfish.
I could
just flop around there and succumb to this until my bubble bursts and sets me off into the wild blue night again.
"sleep
finally comes and that is what i dream about? What the hell is the matter with me?"
I down some maxxima intima
and a pamprin. A clitoral stimulant and muscle relaxant ought to be enough to sufficiently enter me into normalcy and supply
the adequate post-coital sleep that completes the illusion.
I slug it all down with huge gulps of budweiser straight
from the can. I love the way the can responds to my pressure as I quickly snap the pull tab back and release the smell of
fresh beer into the air just inches from my face.
Even a can responds better. Everything has a purpose and a place
in my life. Each thing seems to work like it should except me.
"god damn it!" i complain. "why don't
i work right?"
It's 8:20pm and the last load of laundry should be ready to sort. I slip away from my reverie
regarding my failure as a responding human being and shlump down the 33 dark, wooden steps. The basement is so dark that the
drugs almost make me tumble down the last 13 of them.
I gather the wet wash and sort it all into dryer and clothes
rack piles. The dryer pile requires the four quarters that I stacked on the folding table. I file them neatly away in their
slots and think about running away again.
The pamprin makes me sleepy and the time of boyfriend-du-jour's approach
comes into that sleepiness like a semi-truck downhill bound. I jump to attention and slap the wet load into the dryer. I gather
up the rest and trudge back upstairs.
1
2
3
4
25
26
30
..
I carefully
hang up the powder blue, the green plaid and the denim "friday" shirts so that I probably won't have to iron them.
I climb into bed with the temporarily adopted cat, Mojave, and stroke his body length with my long, tired fingers.
I contemplate the meaning of his barbed penis as he grooms and cleans his privates after my stimulating rubdown.
"easy,"
i half-tease the cat.
It's 9:30pm and i get a sleepy feeling watching the cat wink out at me from behind his curled
up tail. I set the alarm and decide to just forget about boyfriend-du-jour.
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