Double Meat with Sleaze
She was right. This was the most full the refrigerator had
been in weeks. The cool buzz of the compressor turned on as I searched for
something to satisfy a hunger within me that clearly no food could satiate.
Slowly, I began to hypnotize myself by the repetitious sounds of the gummy
adhesive of the refrigerator door as I opened and closed it indecisively. I
couldn't help but wonder if her life flashed before her eyes. What did she
think about as her gasps and futile scratches to my face danced about me as she
slowly began to dim. A thin red paint on her left thumb nail glistened against
the fragmented moonlight coming from a weathered window blind. I found myself
lying back down on the mattress that we moved from the bedroom to the living
room a month earlier. The T.V. was on but no image was projected giving
everything in the room an ominous black glow. And then suddenly she stood up.
"It took you longer this time Ceca," I said
forcing my words out of a tight smirk. "I was beginning to think that the
moon had forsaken us." She said nothing back to me letting me know that I
had nothing to worry about. I truly wanted to scream as if it would somehow
alleviate my mind from this quiet internal struggle. "I am hungry," I
said half empty and truly tiredly. I waited for a reply to come from Ceca
knowing full well she knew I never ate this late. I never rose from the soft
comfort of the mattress but I could hear Ceca walking over towards me but not
to me. "It was different this time," she whispered as if her lips
were as delicate as moth wings. "How different I cannot say yet."
I didn't pursue the matter any further and attempted to get
some sleep by placing the feathered comforter over me and sighing loudly. By
now the bed sheets, pillow covers and blankets all had this singular unified
scent to them of Ceca and I. It was sweet and yet, it stiffened every tiny hair
in my nostrils. How pleasing this scent was and still how it would draw me away
from the very thought of sleep. Having recently switched from a cheap bottle of
Merlot to an even cheaper boxed Blush wine I considered the foolish idea of
pouring myself another glass. We preferred death and celebrated life. We ate
meagerly and consumed poison to the excessive point that we had to leave notes
for one another each time an idea came through our minds.
Ceca rolled her eyes in the dark as she fumbled to plug in a
twenty three foot long string of Christmas lights we collectively decided to
keep stapled to the ceiling. The romantic aroma of filtered light quickly
brought us both into a static reality of sobriety as we could now affix our
sight upon each other. Ceca looked exactly the same and at the same time more
beautiful than yesterday. The thrill of possible success began to run up and
down my spine like a cheap carnival ride. However, Ceca seemed very unimpressed
by our results. "I'll pour you your last glass before I write today's
results in the Record," she said heavyhearted. I dared myself to glance at
her eyes but hesitated just long enough to capture a glimpse of the small of
her back.
The chipped wine glass she brought me cried a rosy crimson
as I starred through it. I knew what awaited me as I took my first sip as her
handwriting flew with reckless abandon. A flurry of my past errors was the gale
force wind she needed to have the strength this time to write the words
"FAILURE" upon the vellum. My second gulp was bigger than the first
has it cascaded my palate in a sweet swell. As I heard Ceca's pen drop I had the
opportunity to run like I had in previous relationships. But as I neared the
bottom of wine glass I felt I had the bravura this time to go through with it.
By now the predawn sun was just about to pierce through the
make shift curtains. The two kittens Ceca and I had been feeding months ago
cried out of habit to us through the locked front door. Nearing the backwash of
my wine, I spun it around in a left-handed centrifugal motion and swallowed it
vigorously. Ceca closed the vellum Record and stood up from the chair. In a
quick swift motion I pulled my shoulder length hair back into a bun and popped
my elbows by throwing my arms out violently. An ethereal like grumble came from
Ceca's stomach as I tried to keep myself from a hive inducing anxiety. "It's
your turn my love," she said so lovingly. Ceca tossed me her car keys as
she struggled to put her right arm into her red peat coat. It had been weeks
since Ceca and I had a cheeseburger with the caloric intake worthy of feeling
truly gluttonous about. "Do they even serve hamburgers at this hour,"
I exclaimed questionably as I finally made eye contact with her. Ceca looked at
me with her razor blade defined eyebrows and retorted, "They will for me and you’re paying.”
No comments:
Post a Comment