Lay down in the deep grass and weeds.

Mar 05, 2003 23:59

I hate when bottles grow too rapidly from being beautifully cold to sickeningly warm as a result of slow drinking, but I’m just not always into drinking so fast. Often, if I have enough cash on me, I’ll just set the half-empty warm bottle on the bar in front of me, scoot down a few seats and then hail down a different bartender to order another. ( Read more... )

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You want to kiss me. I can feel it in the way you're pointing that gun at me. unburiable March 20 2003, 11:38:37 UTC
A massive girl the size of a panda bear and a wingspan of six and one half feet, , who herself has the ears of an elephant flopping out like leather leaves from under her rhinestone studded cowboy hat sits down next to me even though there are plenty of other seats empty at the bar at which she could sit without being directly next to anyone else. Her skin smells of pancakes, and the draft leaking through the ceiling from the ventilation ducts makes it all but impossible to turn my head away to avoid the pancakes. It starts to remind me of those times my mother would tie me to the chair at the kitchen table with her nylon panty hose and force-feed blueberry pancakes to me with a batter spoon. If I were to choke, my mother would hit me with the spoon, the make of which was a very strong oak from Canada. So I turn to the girl with the elephant ears and the rhinestone hat and I mouth “go away,” hoping she’s the type to sense discomfort when it’s thick in the air. If I were her I’d sit somewhere else. I’ve been muddy with desperation for weeks now and that should rightly show from over a mile off. Even to a girl who seems to me like the perfect target for a severe beating. But I am desperate, and this harassing desperation spreads from me to the barstool, to the floor, up the green felt and over the bar, crawling into the drinks of those sipping to change their lives. But they won’t change anything for the better, because they are literally drinking from my ill anxiety. I hope it tastes like blood. It’s the kind of desperation that makes a man rob banks. If I hadn’t sold all those rifles maybe I might have a few weapons to do that with.

The girl’s hair is sort of long, but not much. It goes down almost to her shoulders, although it does not cover the elephant ears. In an effort to retain some sort of feminine lilt to her inhuman gene portrayal of normalcy, she tucks her hair behind those giant ears and with a voice I think may be altered by the gills at her neck, she orders a beer. The most expensive one behind the bar, no less, but I’ve tasted that beer before. It’s French, and it’s awful. If I had closed my ears from the moment I heard her shaking the tiles behind me, entering the bar as though a wrecking ball through the World Trade Center, I believe I would have imagined her voice sounding really pretty. So much, in fact, that even though I knew she was a monster (and a thief), I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to kiss her with a long knife blade to the mouth and seize her larynx.

But that’s over now. I don’t go for girls who have pouches, like the kangaroo does. It’s just too odd. And I’m punch drunk, my friend.

Someone with a toothache behind me is cackling like a gigantic bird at his opponent for being on the captain’s end of a pool game that has gone nowhere since its inception the hour previous. By the way they’re crooning to each other I gather that they are very good friends and possibly even a singing duo, but that neither one of them is much smarter than the pool table they’re playing on. A dubitable shame that the wooden legs and the green felt have a better chance of getting out of this bar without hanging its head in shame. A better chance, even, than I do, come to think of it, but who cares? I feel like vomiting, and it’s not the beer doing this to me. I think it’s the girl with the elephant ears.

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Re: You want to kiss me. I can feel it in the way you're pointing that gun at me. someatheiryoung March 20 2003, 11:52:30 UTC
Exactly! Now that's what I'm talking about. Your very talented.

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Giggles Pond, Nevada. unburiable March 20 2003, 11:58:28 UTC
Your so cute.

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