I had written the most epic love story of all time.
I was on the Williamsburg bridge, listening to my Walkman and riding my bike. An interview came on the public access station . The person I wrote my story about was reviewing it. I didn’t think anyone had read it but THEY did. I had waited forever for this. Read the rest of this entry »
Every square inch of my parents ceiling was covered with an even grid of pantry moths. They are the color of soot and when I kill them, they leave a smear that looks like a shadow.
Grandma had started to act strangely and spent all her time standing on the counter top. There is a hole in the wall above of the cabinets where the infestation had started. She would perch her face up against the opening and stare into the darkness. She was wearing khaki pants, an oversized cranberry colored wool cardigan and a pair of latex gloves.
After days of this behavior, suddenly, grandma fell off the counter top. When I reached her side, her body was replaced with a single latex glove. The fingers had been cut from the palm and were laid out in order from index finger to thumb.
I looked down and I was wearing the jewel toned cardigan. It was thick and completely covered by tiny brown bugs. The sweater is so infested that the insects have fused to the cotton. I could hear their exoskeletons clashing and mandibles nibbling my flesh. I ripped off the sweater and had a powder blue T-shirt underneath. A few bugs clung to the cotton and I desperately tried to brush them off.
It is night time and I’m at my parent’s house.
I ask my mom to take me to get pizza.
We get into our white van and she gets behind the wheel.
I notice that she is driving erratically.
She is driving on the sidewalk and over people’s lawns.
Small children are illuminated by her headlights.
They are frozen with terror as my mother speeds straights towards them. Read the rest of this entry »
I’m trying to find the entrance to the subway. It’s cold and I’m not sure where to go. I walk in the wrong direction and end up in the Lincoln Tunnel. I turn around and walk to midtown where finally find the underground entrance to the train. A C E.
It’s dark and crowded. The homeless walk around like zombies and are dirtier and more decrepit than normal. Their bony hands are outstretched to accept change.
Finally, I make it through the turnstiles but there aren’t any trains. Read the rest of this entry »
Duncan
She is doing a performance in a bedroom. I don’t know who she is and I haven’t seen her before. She’s is wearing 80’s style workout clothes.
“Now, I’m going to need everyone’s participation and please don’t take my picture.”
She approaches me. “You know, this used to be Duncan’s bed…”
He has an illustration in his closet. In the portrait, he is holding a women by the waist. He gently rests his hand on her hip. She is naked and he is fully clothed. I wonder who she is because she is very attractive.
There are bloody hand prints on a blank billboard. The dried blood has a creamy quality to it.
I ask him, “If you don’t feel the same way about me as you used to, tell me…”
“I don’t…”
I start crying. I feel bad that I am blowing off a friend. We were supposed to meet at the ice cream convention. I knew they’d be mad and wouldn’t be understanding.
I have no idea where I am. My shirt is so stretched out that my breasts are showing. I pull up my shirt to try to cover myself. I feel horrible, exposed.
The apartment was acceptable.
The room had a window and door.
I told the broker that I would take it.
I scribbled on a piece of paper to finalize the deal.
As soon as my pen left the contract, I noticed an open door.
In the room was a solitary litter box.
There was litter and dried up cat turds all over the floor.
Large mounds of litter covered every square inch of the small windowless room.
I could already feel the blue and grey pebbles stuck to the soles of my bare feet.
I didn’t even notice any cats living there.
jelliebeers 