Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Act 4: these are no lip stick stains, that's high grade seminal fluid

another introspective recollection:


leaving town did little to settle your thoughts. you left for no more than three days, forty-eight hours consumed with that mental image you stained your mind with and that dull ache your gut had been feeling since it's appearance. the last day, though, you drank yourself into a stupor and dulled yourself with excessive drug use till your obsession seemed faint and foolish. upon returning home you felt that familiar turmoil, you thought you had destroyed, nestling it's buttocks back into the the two concave impressions it left on your brain. this feeling was accompanied by an overpowering urge to have sex. this you attributed to your short absence and the biological factoids you had read somewhere in the past, most likely a trashy pornographic magazine. according to the article, most males feel this way after a prolonged, sexual hiatus. usually it's said to be just the disruption of one's routine sexual activities or a lack thereof. but you had read otherwise. when a female mate is left by herself it is instinctually assumed, by the male, that some rival male may have tried to impregnate her in his absence. now, in order to combat that and increase the chances of one's legacy being passed on rather than the rival's, a semen reserve of some sort is built up during the separation. upon arriving, the male is biologically driven to unload this massive amount of sperm cells into his mate not only to increase your chances of impregnation but to potentially engage and destroy the sperm of his rivals. 

so, naturally, you had a pathetically short session with your mate. she seemed a little numb, her senses of joy dulled by some unseen blunt force, and a little distant, never quite meeting your lustful gaze. she faked an orgasm in order  to get your sweaty body off of her and than went about her nightly routine of cooking and cleaning. you helped her, for the most part, but she said little to you. her disconnected ways only hindered the reassurance you hoped sex would bring, your gut continued complaining, a hallow groan and a steady ache clued you in, activated those paranoid brain cells of yours. had she discovered the otherworldly intruder? did she know of it's evil plot? perhaps she was equally stressed out, maybe from work or even your abnormal manner of late, these factors might have   mixed her up emotionally. whatever the case, your stomach, you believed, played a convincing canary and the coal mine lay just around the corner.

now, your stomach was always a trifle bit unsettled. when you pictured your gut you always thought of a giant potato on toothpick legs waddling around in circles. but after seeing that fiend from the periphery come to life, your potato-like stomach found itself balancing on a single wooden pick precariously keeping itself upright by swaying and leaning towards or with the unpredictable gusts of wind. you worried constantly, never quite at ease, and this resulted in a loss of appetite. fajita night seemed so far away, the very idea of ever having eaten one repulsed you to no end. you had to continue working though, a job isn't easy to come by in this town, especially during this season, and rent, as well as the utilities, was on the rise. just keep drinking coffee, you told yourself, coffee and go-go juice, maybe a pill here and there, but not everywhere. 

your stomach growled and trembled as if its lining had suddenly fissured and grown into a active fault line. 

the closest you came to calming yourself was after a period of two days, right after you returned, through constant self-reassurance. the abomination had all but vanished after its initial appearance at the restaurant, what possible reason could it have to attack you? what ill act, what crime, what heinous incident have you ever involved yourself in that might somehow offend a creature of another world? none that you could think of. ah, but being something other than human, why would it need any reason? was it even capable of being rational or reasoned with? you knew nothing of the world from which it came nor of it's social norms, rules, or practices. this thing was as predictable as the weather which, steadily, began to grow muggy and rainy. nothing like rain during winter to raise one's spirits. 

yes, these thoughts seemed to tug-o-war with one another, two burly brothers in blue and red, both of equal strength and ability. it was after these two days that they finally exhausted one another and left your brain a stretchy, rubber mess that resembled a chew toy rather than a thinking organ. mushy brains, you know, don't work as well as solid ones. having mentally exhausted yourself with worry you fell into a deep, long sleep. 

it began with a whisper, nothing more, but with your heightened state of stress and awareness that whisper resounded within your brain like a foghorn in an empty warehouse. the whisper permanently remained out of visible sight, just around the corner, and barely audible. it was always one step ahead of you. when you rounded the corner it hushed up or when you entered a room it smiled innocently and winked. something was amiss, you knew that, something involving some aspect of your personal life. but now it was no longer personal, it became a source of constant entertainment and debate between those around you. already you began to feel your delicate mental state begin to bend and crack under the invisible pressure of these elusive rumors. 

you returned home later that evening after noticing the strange, secretive comments passed around out of earshot, to an empty house. the darkness from the outside suggested perhaps that no one had ever lived here, but that, at one point, your house once thrived with joyful life and had all since been forgotten. you became afraid, the dark had never seemed so intimidating before, but you knew something awaited your arrival inside. something sinister. it could be avoided, you knew, but did you dare remain in your tumultuously ignorant state, perpetually paranoid and twitchy? of course not, besides solving of this harebrained mystery, you felt that overwhelming curiosity one feels when others get a joke that they, themselves, do not. hahaha. 

you unlocked the front door and felt blindly along the wall until that familiar switch seemed to up and appear between your fingers. sudden light reveals the door to your room is slightly ajar. with hands trembling uncontrollably you grab and push the door knob into your room, convinced the dastardly sheet lay beyond  ready to pounce. but there was nothing, turning on the light confirmed this. the same dirty laundry, disheveled belongings and gaudy furniture greeted you. at this point you began laughing at your situation, how absurd! to think you had believed that this other worldly creature had singled you out among an entire city full of more deserving victims! relief washed over you as if you had slipped on a sweater straight from the dryer on a cold day. never had you felt so relieved in your life! a great gust of a sigh exhaled from between your lips. "whooosh!"

of course, this pleasant feeling was short lived for, from under a pile of fresh laundry, peaked a very familiar, very malefic corner. you withdrew the now lifeless sheet a look of stupid confusion on your face. the very same sheet that had haunted your thoughts, had frequented your place of work and had, possibly, been  plotting behind your back now lay there almost innocently. how could this be? how was it that something, just one week prior, had been moving around menacingly but now lay here inconspicuously? you didn't know anything, then, but suspected that these evasive rumors were, in some way, the final puzzle piece. 

the panic that resulted of this shocking surprise sent waves of nausea through your body, you found yourself doubled over the toilet dry heaving. you lost track of time then, and came to when your roommates returned from god knows where. they looked beat and they seemed to carry some awfully heavy burden with them. your heart rose and fell and rose again, the rumor had blessed them, those closest to you, with the knowledge and responsibility of passing it on. now, because everyone else seemed to know, the rumor, its insatiable appetite for ears  as wild as a fire in dry season, had finally been forced to spread it to the very last person, the very last pair of ears, in this pathetically small city. 

she had run off. she had lost feeling. she was a different person. she did not care, nor had never cared. she was with someone else. someone with odd birth marks dotting his satin skin. someone or something. sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex. 

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