1
Japonica woke up to the sensation of her air mattress reluctantly deflating. She rolled over to check the time, but her eyelids were glued shut with a mash of makeup and eyeball ooze. Something akin to the paste she used to eat as a kid to get high. On the royal blue plastic bed, now flatter than a pancake, she looked as smudgy and crumpled as a shred of yesterday's news.
10:13 AM. Recollections from the night before drizzled over her, but nothing seemed to fit together. Her stomach made a swift churn as she noticed a bit of misplaced vomit still hanging by a strand of jet-black hair.
If it's only 10:13, that gives me just enough time to get home on the bus before work.
Now where was Aldo? His bed was messy and crazed-looking, like a portrait of a nightmare. She carefully side-stepped the bits of broken glass on the carpet and returned to the living room. She couldn't recall how it had ended with him last night. She could assume not well, considering that she woke up on the air mattress. And one of her long black acrylic tips had snapped clean off the fingernail. Something wasn't right about that. Japonica's fingernails were the sharp point of her pride- no matter how out of control she seemed to spin, her razor-sharp, carefully tended tips announced that she was still on top.
10:15 AM. She wouldn't have time to repair the damage before work. She snatched a Band-Aid out of the medicine cabinet and expertly applied it to her naked nail. On her way out the door, she grabbed a handful of cool dark grapes. The grapes had sat perfectly cold and still in the dark all night, while outside the fridge Aldo and Japonica had scratched and bit and yelled until they were worn out. She could see a dark bruise forming on her forearm, but she smiled, imagining how much worse Aldo must look. She had more power in one hand than he did in his whole body, but he didn't need strength- he had mind control.
How many had there been? There were always so many men who approached her, in the red darkness, offering to buy her a drink, dark faces desperate for so much more. She would stand by them at the bar, nod her head convincingly while they talked, and her dark, glamorous sheen would for a moment cast itself on them both. But as soon as the liquor had been put back on the shelf, she disappeared again, roving through the masses of bodies with a glowing cigarette as delicately extended from her alabastar paw as a sixth finger. Aldo had come to the club to collect his money, and it didn't take him long to find her. Her dark head and shoulders stood out above the others, and people parted in awe of her whether coming or going.
She scrounged under the couch cushions, and raised enough nickels for bus fare. On her way out the door, she gave the air mattress a flying kick and swore to herself that she would never see it again.
to be continued
10:13 AM. Recollections from the night before drizzled over her, but nothing seemed to fit together. Her stomach made a swift churn as she noticed a bit of misplaced vomit still hanging by a strand of jet-black hair.
If it's only 10:13, that gives me just enough time to get home on the bus before work.
Now where was Aldo? His bed was messy and crazed-looking, like a portrait of a nightmare. She carefully side-stepped the bits of broken glass on the carpet and returned to the living room. She couldn't recall how it had ended with him last night. She could assume not well, considering that she woke up on the air mattress. And one of her long black acrylic tips had snapped clean off the fingernail. Something wasn't right about that. Japonica's fingernails were the sharp point of her pride- no matter how out of control she seemed to spin, her razor-sharp, carefully tended tips announced that she was still on top.
10:15 AM. She wouldn't have time to repair the damage before work. She snatched a Band-Aid out of the medicine cabinet and expertly applied it to her naked nail. On her way out the door, she grabbed a handful of cool dark grapes. The grapes had sat perfectly cold and still in the dark all night, while outside the fridge Aldo and Japonica had scratched and bit and yelled until they were worn out. She could see a dark bruise forming on her forearm, but she smiled, imagining how much worse Aldo must look. She had more power in one hand than he did in his whole body, but he didn't need strength- he had mind control.
How many had there been? There were always so many men who approached her, in the red darkness, offering to buy her a drink, dark faces desperate for so much more. She would stand by them at the bar, nod her head convincingly while they talked, and her dark, glamorous sheen would for a moment cast itself on them both. But as soon as the liquor had been put back on the shelf, she disappeared again, roving through the masses of bodies with a glowing cigarette as delicately extended from her alabastar paw as a sixth finger. Aldo had come to the club to collect his money, and it didn't take him long to find her. Her dark head and shoulders stood out above the others, and people parted in awe of her whether coming or going.
She scrounged under the couch cushions, and raised enough nickels for bus fare. On her way out the door, she gave the air mattress a flying kick and swore to herself that she would never see it again.
to be continued