Monthly Archives: September 2012

She (cont.)

She had found that the best way to maintain a sunny demeanor in a soul-crushing relationship was to store away horrible things about her significant other for potential future use.  It was entirely probable that these observations and feelings would never need to be used, but simply their presence was all that she needed to remain cordial in most scenarios.  In instances of extreme discontent she would write down her thoughts and leave them scattered about his apartment.  This gave her a slight thrill every time she received an incoming phone call in that it could be the beginning of a relationship ending fight, or it could be him calling just to say that he loved her.

She was entertained by the thought that in either case answering her phone with a chipper attitude was completely appropriate, in that if he had found the notes, he would be doubly enraged at her amicability and if he was calling to say hi, he was receiving the status quo.  The notes generally contained her musings on the relationship with topics such as, “how can I respect a weakling”, “people I can think about during sex so that I can enjoy myself” and “ways I shut down part of my brain to not think that someone is not a slob”.


Illegitimate Piece

It is a small dark space and it is moving



Thomas wears a light brown sport jacket and is hunched over eating mashed potatoes.  Melinda sits across the table and watches him carefully.

-Why do you do that?

-Do what?

-Eat like that.

-Eat. What?

-You’re eating your sides and letting your main course get cold.

-I didn’t really think about it.

-Well you’re paying the bulk of the money for the pork chop, so I don’t understand letting it go to waste like that.

-I’m still going to eat it.

-But it’s cold; I just think you’d enjoy it more if it was warm.

-Okay, I’ll think about it more next time.

-I don’t know why you didn’t think about it this time.

A waitress stops by the table and refreshes their drinks.  She tells Thomas that she likes his ring and says it reminds her of steam punk art, and then shows Thomas a tattoo on her wrist that has a similarly jointed retro look to it.  He tells her that it’s neat, then turns back to his food.

Melinda watches the waitress walk back to the kitchen.

-What was that about?

-I don’t know.

-Do you know her?


-Where did you get that ring again?

-A shop in Hamden.  I don’t know if it’s even there anymore.

-No one bought it for you?  Because it looks like it was a gift.


-I just don’t see you buying something like that.

-No, I did.  I think I was just bored.

-Her skirt is really short.

-Oh, I hadn’t noticed.

The remainder of dinner is incident free.  During dessert Melinda inquires as to when Thomas is going to get a better job so that he can help her put a down payment on a house in Mount Washington.  He has been looking for some time, but has not been terribly inspired by his options, or to the idea of living with Melinda, despite his being engaged to her.

He drives her back to her apartment and moves in to give a kiss, but is dodged and given a kiss on the cheek instead.  They exchange “I love you’s” and he drives home feeling familiarly unfulfilled.  His apartment is on the tenth floor of a well-regarded building in downtown Baltimore.  He is not particularly fond of animals, but upon hearing of Melinda’s allergy to cats, quickly adopted one and named it kernel as a means to delay cohabitation for as long as possible.

Their dinner this evening was supposed to be a casual discussion concerning the guest list for their wedding, however descended into what has now become fairly standard squabbling.  He’s fairly sure he loves Melinda.  The feeling comes and goes, but he feels it more times than less, so figures that things aren’t too bad.  Thomas Newton is 26, 5’9.5”, 140 lbs., wears  silver rimmed glasses with ¼” thick lenses , has brown eyes, black hair and walks with consistently bad posture; a fact that is pointed out to him at least once a week as of late.

The sparsely furnished apartment smells vaguely of cat urine and burnt toast.  Thomas opens his refrigerator, gets a beer and sits down in front of his computer to engage in what he considers his only guilty pleasure.  It was entirely accidental, but after a more spirited than usual fight with Melinda he came home to view internet pornography and saw a video featuring a girl who he was almost certain was Melinda.  After multiple viewings, screen captures, pausing and the like, he determined that the actress was not her, but had been unexpectedly satisfied at seeing this girl repeatedly sodomized and humiliated.  So began Thomas’s habit of ending arguments without much bravado so he could go home and watch what his eyes determined was Melinda being tied upside down and used like a sexual piñata for hours on end.


He considered robot butlers for a moment, but his better judgment prevailed.  It seemed a bit contrived to have the Ruler supply every household on earth with a robotic butler, which would, in addition to cooking, cleaning and performing other requested household duties, spy on the population and report persons of suspicious nature, only to have the hero reprogram his butler to assist him in toppling the Ruler, who of course is the robotic butler’s father figure but is conflicted because the hero had given him free will (or so he had been programmed to think so), so he now had to convince the anti-hero to take up the cause of his dead liberator and take down the robotic butler’s father/creator.  The whole thing is iRobot/Terminator 2 automaton madness.

Visions of selling his story to a film studio raced through his head, but lost steam as he imagined the inevitable venue for this work; a straight to cable movie on a channel less than or equal to SiFy.  He examined his white board for ways to escape his horrible fate.  The Neo-Noir, perpetually dark and rainy Blade Runner locales that were a product of asteroids being moved to block sunlight to certain cities had to be removed.  His heart fell a little as erased a picture illustrating this display of the Ruler’s tyranny.  The Ruler was renamed Flannan and the short-lived hero’s name was Todd.  All these changes exhausted and discouraged him to the point that he ceased working and relapsed to scouring the internet.

Eight years in four days

Degenerate Triangle


There were times, more often than not actually, that he feels as though he’s seeing through someone else’s eyes or hearing their internal monologue.  He theorizes that this happens when someone is removed geographically from him, but is thinking about him in some way.  It is also possible that he is developing the aural illusions that accompany schizophrenia and that his internal seeing of what others are watching is actually the walls of his memory degrading, allowing past events to take precedence over present experience.

His glass was empty though so further mental plumbing would have wait.  Additionally, some guy in a cheap sport jacket was knocking on his door.

Excerpt from Degenerate Triangle

I scan the bar for people I know and almost immediately spot Kelly dancing with some guy who enjoys using a massive amount of hair gel and possesses the complexion of a carrot.  Kelly does not see me, and my opinion is thus far unaffected; wary maybe.  After a few more drinks I’m less concerned with Kelly because I now have to concentrate to even pretend to pay attention to Jane’s current thoughts on feminist film theory.  When I do glance over I see an orange hand slide up Kelly’s skirt as she drools all over the neck of its owner. I am asked about the dominance of female heroines in film and its perpetuation of women as sex objects.  His hand goes further up her skirt as she slips her hand down his pants.  The industry BTW is a bunch of old men producing films to pave the way for a new generation of men who will dance with girls I was out with last night, gel their hair heavily and grope said girls at clubs, bars, parties, etc… all because in “Alien” Sigourney Weaver went into cryogenic sleep wearing panties and a skeezy tank top after defeating the phallic festival that is the Giger Alien with a gun, which is the phallus that she finally embraces as she moves her hand up and down in his pants, in the end passing out in a Disney princess glass coffin, waiting for a man who would take her into the corner of a dark bar and fuck her to come and wake her from her long slumber.