How Gracious of You
The house had been so nice. It was now reduced to a little shack with occasional privacy. There was no garden, no mailbox, no phone. She came home and took off her shoes. She was wearing a thin shirt and a wrinkled skirt and stalkings. She ran the bathtub with no intention of bathing and smoked a cigarette against the pink tiles. Goat was home but he was sleeping.
Goat was a writer. He wrote plays that no one wanted to read. The last time that he went out, he was confused for the Great One. Emotionally, this destroyed him, and he took to women's' fashion. He was a sensitive sleeper and he woke up the minute she entered the room."Goddamnit! I told ya not to smoke in here!" He said.
Since the government had determined that smoking was the general cause of cancer, disease, amnesia, bad skin, holes in the ozone, war, insomnia, ulcers, HIV patterns in small animals, homosexuality, schizoid tendencies and "generally bad social performance," smoking had been basically banned. You must have a licensee to smoke which takes 4 years to obtain. She had a fake license which she used to buy one box of cigarettes every 11 days. There were 11 cigarettes in each box, but the box was about a foot long and an inch wide. The cigarettes were packed next to each other, in sets of two. The boxes got bigger with each discovery of another smoking hazard, which Goat did not care about. He was simply terrified of the government and with each acronym he heard, each invention they published, war they fought, he got a little more erratic. The way that some people are tormented by their pasts, he was tormented by his future and the possibility everlasting if even through his work.
She finished the cigarette and sat on the corner of the bed. Newspaper covered the tan sheets with butterflies on them. The front page headline read "PROLE GROCERS FIGHT FOR PEACHES".
Indeed, it was true, they were sick of apples. There had been a winter that lasted eleven years and between that time they had consumed tons of apples. After dinner, they were accustomed to drink a small glass of apple wine with cold water to divinely prevent another winter by remembering.
"- that problem is not even a part of our times anymore, you see? It really really isn't. I mean my head hurts occasionally, it does now, but it is more than never really okay. And I had a dream last night that I saw the queen and she snubbed me because my skin is lighter than hers, but you see her walking with a long busy skirt and her hair sticking out witha bandana.. I mean all she's really missing is the fucking bag with the cans in it.. I woke up this morning at six and I had this urge to finish the story with the two lesbians in it, but I can never get the fucking dialogue correct. It's different from the dialogue between a man and a woman or two guys, completely different. The whole damn relationship is really really different."
She sat there on the bed knowing that Goat's pause would last until she wanted to say something. "Wuh-"
"It really is! Look at it this way. Females talk differently amongst themselves. You go into any bathroom and tell me that isn't true. And I have the ending written too. I mean I really do. Lynn looks at Marissa in the eyes. (This is after Roger died) When they look each other in the eyes and Lynn says 'Honestly, I have bigger problems than your hormones,' and she walks away..."
"I think I'm going to go to the store and see if they have any peaches." She said.
"..but I sat there typing, and the more I typed, the more I realized that there's just this entire possible dimension that I could add into the boringness of what's become the present and the hopelessness of the future.."
She kissed Goat on the forehead and left. He continued talking. And since she wasn't there anymore, *******HE DIDN'T EXIST*******.
Goat was a writer. He wrote plays that no one wanted to read. The last time that he went out, he was confused for the Great One. Emotionally, this destroyed him, and he took to women's' fashion. He was a sensitive sleeper and he woke up the minute she entered the room."Goddamnit! I told ya not to smoke in here!" He said.
Since the government had determined that smoking was the general cause of cancer, disease, amnesia, bad skin, holes in the ozone, war, insomnia, ulcers, HIV patterns in small animals, homosexuality, schizoid tendencies and "generally bad social performance," smoking had been basically banned. You must have a licensee to smoke which takes 4 years to obtain. She had a fake license which she used to buy one box of cigarettes every 11 days. There were 11 cigarettes in each box, but the box was about a foot long and an inch wide. The cigarettes were packed next to each other, in sets of two. The boxes got bigger with each discovery of another smoking hazard, which Goat did not care about. He was simply terrified of the government and with each acronym he heard, each invention they published, war they fought, he got a little more erratic. The way that some people are tormented by their pasts, he was tormented by his future and the possibility everlasting if even through his work.
She finished the cigarette and sat on the corner of the bed. Newspaper covered the tan sheets with butterflies on them. The front page headline read "PROLE GROCERS FIGHT FOR PEACHES".
Indeed, it was true, they were sick of apples. There had been a winter that lasted eleven years and between that time they had consumed tons of apples. After dinner, they were accustomed to drink a small glass of apple wine with cold water to divinely prevent another winter by remembering.
"- that problem is not even a part of our times anymore, you see? It really really isn't. I mean my head hurts occasionally, it does now, but it is more than never really okay. And I had a dream last night that I saw the queen and she snubbed me because my skin is lighter than hers, but you see her walking with a long busy skirt and her hair sticking out witha bandana.. I mean all she's really missing is the fucking bag with the cans in it.. I woke up this morning at six and I had this urge to finish the story with the two lesbians in it, but I can never get the fucking dialogue correct. It's different from the dialogue between a man and a woman or two guys, completely different. The whole damn relationship is really really different."
She sat there on the bed knowing that Goat's pause would last until she wanted to say something. "Wuh-"
"It really is! Look at it this way. Females talk differently amongst themselves. You go into any bathroom and tell me that isn't true. And I have the ending written too. I mean I really do. Lynn looks at Marissa in the eyes. (This is after Roger died) When they look each other in the eyes and Lynn says 'Honestly, I have bigger problems than your hormones,' and she walks away..."
"I think I'm going to go to the store and see if they have any peaches." She said.
"..but I sat there typing, and the more I typed, the more I realized that there's just this entire possible dimension that I could add into the boringness of what's become the present and the hopelessness of the future.."
She kissed Goat on the forehead and left. He continued talking. And since she wasn't there anymore, *******HE DIDN'T EXIST*******.