A Random Image

Jett Superior laid this on you on || November 4, 2008 || 12:50 am

sometimes I drop the box and the surreal skitters everywhere

I am going to write a monologue, and that monologue is going to be devoted to the process behind being driven to an emotional state that requires me to consume two strawberry pop-up strudel things at eleven-fifty-four in the pee emm. It’s going to be superimposed, this monologue, as a voice-over; the images playing behind it will be of me ferreting around the freezer for suitably heinous junk food(s?), looking on the strawberry pop-up strudel things with skepticism, and then favoring them over the ice cream because that would mean nuts and hot fudge and whipped cream, which is work, for God’s sake. And besides, it’s too fucking cold for ice cream, and that includes ice cream buried under the pahoehoe of molten fudge.

Strawberry pop-up strudel things require a toaster. And a tiny side of skim milk (skim milk was a lesson hard-won after the obsessive drinking of whole milk throughout my first pregnancy, which was coincidentally accompanied by fifty-six pounds of weight gain, so help me Jesus). They require pulling down a plate, not burning your fingers –which, truth be told, have their share of errant actions in their histories– and snipping off the top of that eedle packet of icing. “Oh Discoverer or Creator of Powdered Sugar, all hail thee. How might the junkie and the housewife, the latch-key kid and the bachelor show their gratitude for thy pure white evil sweetness?”

The voice-over would say things like that, tender Muffinasses.

It would also note, as I considered the little white smooshy package, pondered it, even, that I had just then considered the joy of being a complete evil bastard and doing the unthinkable.

“Yes, look at me…sorely tempted to –nay, PLOTTING to– use more than My Fair Share. Who says that one can’t double down on the icing? ‘I paid for them,’ my mind purrs coyly, ‘Disregard the consequences…’”

The voice-over would say things like that, too.

Then you’d see me tearing off three more evil-innocent little icing packets and crossing the span of black tile, barefooted, to retrieve the kitchen scissors from the knife block. Four snips, two more than I am entitled, drizzling the icing by twos on top of these disgusting strawberry pop-up strudel things, no remorse. “Neither am I smug,” the voice-over says, “These things Just Are.”

My face, resolute but quietly smiling. Greedy sometimes feels good, especially on nights when your emotional state has driven you to vile deeds; deeds such as pretending that you’re not one bit bothered by the fact that you’ve been driven to an emotional state that requires you to do things like consuming two strawberry pop-up strudel things at eleven-fifty-four in the pee emm, one right after another, slowly and between sips of skim milk.

“And look at that. By the third bite, the fact that I’ve taken more than my share has been eradicated from my mind. This is what comes of emotional strain.”

3 worked it out »

  1. Johnny T 11.6.2008

    So I’m reading and waiting to hear what drove you to such a state of rotten behavior.

  2. Seaweed 11.6.2008

    Johnny T – I believe that there doesn’t need to be a reason. She’s a girl. (And girl, you put that song here and now I can’t stop listening and have $100 in Elbow stuff in my Amazon cart . . . )

  3. Jettomatika 11.7.2008


    You have been reading here long enough to know that the impetus isn’t always mentioned in relation to the outcome.

    Wee: Please let this stand as further proof that no one should ever doubt my music-selecting prowess. Apparently ciii is in love with them, as well. To which I say, “SHUH.”


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