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For some reason, the style and tone here make me think of [livejournal.com profile] canemex's writing; I'm not totally sure why.


WARNING:


You are left to wonder about how much of a life you really have left when you see all of it can fit into a single plastic grocery bag. Little, flimsy, not even the white sort but clear plastic and red, the kind you heard that some sound engineers use to make the noise of feet in fallen leaves. Fallen leaves would make everything fit better with your mood, but it's spring, the season of warm winds and trees in bloom and children having asthma attacks in the park.

Maybe you should be grateful for the fact it's spring. Even if dull gray cotton clouds cover the sky and sometimes let fly with miserable spitting rain, at least it's warm. And warmth is something you can appreciate, now that your life's been reduced to the phone on your hip, a purple pen--a receipt, crumpled and forgotten in the back pocket of your jeans, where your favorite singer once said her uncle kept his hope.

There's a bench over there. You walk to it and sit down, breezes promising a chill tonight whisking across bare skin. The bag you lay out flat next to you on the bench, then put the phone on top of it. The pen next. The receipt takes some shuffling to get to, and by the time you pull it out it's halfway torn between TOM REDONVINE 4.83 F and PROG PEA/HAM 6.00 F--whatever that means.

The receipt isn't even yours, nothing except the cell phone is yours, all the rest borrowed or "borrowed" from the roommates you despised. TOM REDONVINE were for Jill who spit in your tea one time and PROG PEA/HAM for Eric who always had loud sex with his girlfriend, but it doesn't matter anymore because Eric and his girlfriend were trapped in the house when you burned it down and Jill drank Windex, not spit, in her morning coffee.

You put all of these in the bag. Then you take them out again. The receipt makes a good whistle if you roll it up and blow through it, but it quickly gets wet and floppy. You throw it away. The sign in the park says "no littering", but what will they take from you if they fine you? The pen?

You throw that away, too. It doesn't roll very far. Maybe a bird will pick it up and put it in her nest, or one of those horrible little yappy dogs will choke on it. You don't care about that either. Maybe the little old lady who walked the yappy dog will sue you, but what could they take from you, the cell phone?

The wind has died down, so you know your plastic treasure won't float away when you pick up the cell phone. You pull off the cover that your mother gave you, the leather forspecial you begged her for when she was last alive. You take out the battery and throw it in the lake. Maybe it'll leak and the fish will die. Maybe a turtle will choke on it.

The rest of the cell phone goes into the bushes, where you imagine it must have killed a squirrel. Then you pick up the bag and look at it. You take a closer look at the writing on the bottom, because the writing on the top is just the name of the store.

WARNING:, it says. KEEP THIS BAG AWAY FROM BABIES AND CHILDREN. DO NOT USE IN CRIBS, BEDS, CARRIAGES OR PLAYPENS.--you note there should be a comma here after CARRIAGES, but really, how much does it matter?--MAY CLING TO MOUTH AND NOSE AND PREVENT BREATHING.

It's a fancy way of saying it could choke you. You snigger at the thought of the police report--"victim was prevented from breathing until she died". Did they really say that? Would they have said that if your mother had pulled a plastic bag over your bastard infant head and strangled you like she always said she should have? She felt very guilty about that.

You pull the bag over your head and breathe in until the crinkly rustling film clings to your nose and mouth. You close your eyes and wait.

Yup. Pretty successful for a second-person, present-tense peice, IMNSHO.

museĀ 

(no subject)

Date: 2005-06-07 09:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] canemex.livejournal.com
It might be because of the tangential, offhand commentary and attention to otherwise unimportant detail, one might say. It reminded me of me too!

It also made me laugh, but that's probably just me, and go 'aw no!', which is likely more normal. Very nice. I approve. :D

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SARS-CoV

February 2012

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