The First Testament of the Altruist
-Marzipan Maddox
Written
and edited by Marzipan Maddox
Copyright
© 2019 D8A0E1AE935FE6AFF7F7E30B3F8C3FD0EE7057C8E75D88DCC306C59C695E916D
All rights
reserved.
In memoriam: Occident, 7,000 BC - 1689
AD
In malignitatem: Exaugurans, 1689 AD –
Mox, omnes enim qui acceperint vana
gloriam vana gloriae peribunt
Sol occidit
Trucidare
I am a
menial laborer.
I wrote
this book in my free time, for fun, over the course of approximately 12 months.
November 2017 - November 2018. I edited from November 5, 2018 to January 2,
2019.
Special
Thanks to
Japan:
Part 1 (1 – 11)
China:
Part 2 (12)
Death:
Part 3 (13)
I tried my
best.
The August sun peeks through dusty
windows, speckled shadows of lace curtains dance across the faces of two girls
standing in a dingy kitchen with cheap plastic flooring and fading yellowed
floral wallpaper. The two girls identical in dress and looks, only
distinguishable by the drinking of milk and the red hairband one of them wore.
“Stacy, hurry up, we might be late.”
“One more glass. You should drink more
milk too, Stella.”
Stella sighs and rolls her eyes.
“Ok, let’s go.” She says
The two grab their matching messenger
bags, and walk through the living room towards the door.
“We’re going to school, Dad. Try to get up off
the couch and do something today.” Says Stella
“I always do something.” Mumbles their
father, more than half asleep
“Drinking isn’t something, drinking is
doing nothing.” Jokes Stacy
“I sleep, I smoke. I do plenty of
things. We’re all still alive, last time I checked. I take pride in that, you
know.” Retorts their father, unsure of himself by confusion alone, grasping for
something, defensive but a bit too proud to be embarrassed
“Just don’t die, ok? Love you, dad!”
says Stacy cheerfully
“Roger that. You two have fun at
school, you both look real nice.” He says, looking at the girls, smiling, still
lying on the couch
“We will! See you later!” Stella says as
the girls exit the house
The girls walk towards the city, the
skyline in view in the distance over the tops of tired pastel colored
townhouses. The green of hats of the streetside trees spaced evenly along the
sidewalk sway in the slight breeze. The two catch the eye of occasional
passers-by from the smiles old women to the wide eyes of grinning young men.
The pretty girls politely smile back, continuing on their path.
“Are you excited for your first day of
high school?” asks Stella cheerily
“Nervous.”
“It will be great, aren’t your friends
going to be there?”
“Yeah, but that’s only two people. Other
than that I only know you.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure I will still get to see you
though, it’s not like you will have any trouble making friends anyways.”
Stacy laughs anxiously, “I guess it’s
just the jitters.”
The girls completed their journey of a
few blocks and become like a drop of water in a pool, two girls among a sea of
girls in identical red plaid skirts, white shirts, red ties and red bows. The
two girls’ matching platinum blonde hair serves as a beacon for somebody
searching from them.
A girl followed by waves of long amber
hair comes rushing towards the girls, her emerald eyes full of excitement as
she meets the two.
She grabs Stacy by the hands, exclaiming
“Stacy we are in the same class!”
“That’s great.” Stacy says softly and
smiling
“It’s the luck of the Irish!”
“See Stacy, I told you it would be
great. By the way it’s good to see you too Ophelia.” Says Stella
“Sorry I don’t know what class you are in
Stella, I didn’t see your name on ours though.” Replies Ophelia.
“I’ll go try and find out, I wouldn’t
want to be late on the first day. I’ll see you two later” says Stella.
“Yay, we get to spend all day together
now!” says Ophelia, still giddy
“If only I could be as excited as you
are about going to school.” Says Stacy, a bit glum
“Come on, it will be awesome, Jenna is
even in our class, we’re all together.” Says Ophelia
“That’s great, we should really head to
class though, you better lead the way, since you seem to know where you’re
going.” Says Stacy
The girls make their way through the
crowded halls towards their homeroom. The bell rings as they walk in the door,
both of them waving at Jenna, a black haired girl sitting in the front of the
class, before walking towards the back of the room taking up two unoccupied
seats.
“Please settle down. I am Ms. Appleton
and I teach English. This will be your homeroom and these will be your
classmates for the next year here at Southern Preparatory School.” The middle
aged woman continues to talk about the high expectations for the girls here and
the standards of excellence that each student should aspire to achieve. As she
concludes her talk she informs the girls that each student is required to join
an extracurricular club and for this reason the upperclassmen will be
recruiting freshman during the club day activities following school. She again
sternly reminds the class that attending club day and joining a club is
mandatory.
Following the introduction, the girls areeach
handed their schedules for the day and the true class starts up as one would
expect with paperwork and explanations of what will be read and whatnot. It is
all rather unremarkable, and for the most part the standard fare of freshman.
When the class is asked if they had read any of the books over the summer,
Stacy avoids eye contact with the teacher, a little embarrassed, as she and
Ophelia were the only ones who hadn’t read at least one of the books on the
syllabus. Ophelia doesn’t seem to mind, carefree as always.
The teacher then goes down the row to
ask people to stand up, introduce themselves and say something about
themselves.
Stacy is too nervous to pay attention
to what anyone else says, but it eventually comes time for her to speak. “I am
Stacy White… and… um… I have a twin?” she says anxiously as she softly chuckles
out of nervousness. “Good to meet you Stacy.” Says the teacher
Next is Ophelia “My name is Ophelia
Reid, and I am Irish!” says Ophelia
“Well then, top of the morning to ya, Ophelia.” Says the teacher in a
feigned Irish accent, the class laughs.
Jenna introduces herself, too softly to
be heard in the back, and says something about how she wants to be a doctor.
The class is unremarkable, soon it ends
and the students shuffle about towards their next class. The same silly
introductions happen all day and the subject matter of the courses is briefly
touched upon if at all. Ophelia happened to be in all of the same classes as
Stacy. She had somehow guessed that correctly before seeing either of their
schedules.
The school was set up to have club time
followed by lunch, which happened quite late in the day in order to fit all of
the classes in beforehand, but still the ringing of the lunch bell is a relief
to all students who had grown tired of the strict and rigid atmosphere of
school after only a day, looking forward to the unknown of club activities far
more than the familiar torture of school
The cafeteria sprawls through the
middle of the school with plenty of seats and tables for everybody. Most
students line up for the school lunch, but some had packed their own. Ophelia
waves down Jenna as she enters the lunchroom and the three proceeded to get
their meal. There is one choice for lunch, and that is lunch. It is bean soup
in a lidded plastic container, a slice of crusty bread, and a carton of milk. The
friends take their trays to eat outside and enjoy the weather.
“We dress plainly and we eat plainly.
What a place.” Sighs Ophelia
“Humility is a virtue.” Says Jenna
“I didn’t think this was a Christian
school.” Laughs Ophelia
“There are only so many things they can serve
that provide legally adequate nutrition while accounting for common allergies
and dietary preferences.” Says Jenna
“So the girls who won’t eat meat and
are allergic to god knows what are the reason we are eating like this is a
monastery.” Says Ophelia
“It’s pretty good.” Says Jenna, after
taking a bite of the thick soup
“The milk is good.” Says Stacy,
apparently happy for the first time since school started
“Of course the kitten is happy when she
gets her milk.” Teased Ophelia
“Milk
will make you big and strong.” Says Stacy, smiling, flexing her arms as if she
were a bodybuilder
“Then why are you still such a cute
little kitten and not a big strong lioness?” says Ophelia, laughing
“Come on, She’s not that small.” Says
Jenna, embarrassed for Stacy’s sake though Stacy didn’t seem to mind
“Ophelia, you know I’m average height
for a girl my age.” Says Stacy, challenging Ophelia’s claim boldly
“Did you forget about the other
measurements, Stacy?” says Ophelia, with a smug grin
“I’d be more concerned with your academic
measurements than my breasts and ass, Ophelia, but maybe I’m not attending a
prestigious girl’s school for the same reasons that you are.” Teases Stacy,
grinning
“Last time I checked those were not
particular flattering, but that’s beside the point. We should be talking about
what club we want to join.” Says Jenna
“I don’t even know what clubs are out
there.” Says Stacy
“Same. Clubs sound lame anyways.” Says
Ophelia
“Regardless, we still have to join one.
I’m sure it’s all the normal things you would expect like sports, hobbies, and
academic subjects.” Says Jenna
Stacy sighs, “We’ll just figure it out
when we’re staring down the barrel of that gun.”
“Fine.” Says Jenna
“By the way Stacy, where’s your
sister?” Says Ophelia
“Who knows, probably with her friends,
it’s not like I keep tabs on her.” says Stacy
“I was thinking we could all be in the
same club, it would be fun.” Says Jenna
“I don’t think you would want to be in
whichever stoic academic club Stella ends up in anyways, Ophelia.” Says Jenna
Ophelia laughs, embarrassed, “You’re
probably right.”
The bell signaling the end of lunch
rings.
“Ophelia, are you going to drink your
milk?” asks Stacy
“I’ll let you have it if you nuzzle up
against me and mew, let me pet you.” Teased Ophelia
Stacy clearly annoyed, stands up and
walks over to Ophelia and takes her milk.
“No Stacy, be my kitty.” Says Ophelia,
patting her lap
Stacy stares at her at her between
gulps. Ophelia tries to hug Stacy into her lap, but Stacy quickly dodges the
advance
“You’ve got to admit, that was a great
cat impression, coldhearted and only interested in you for the food.” Says
Jenna, giggling
“Look at how nice I am Ophelia, I even
gave you what you wanted.” Says Stacy smiling
“That’s not what I wanted.” Says Ophelia
disheartened
“Anyways let’s go.” Says Jenna
The girls head out back towards the
school and make their way to the gymnasium and surrounding hallways where clubs
had been setting up their displays on folding tables with poster board signs.
There are large crowds in front of some of the tables, other’s ignored
completely.
“Wonder what is so popular over there.”
Say Ophelia, pointing to a large group of people completely obscuring the sign
for a club
“Trust me; whatever is popular here is
going to be the worst time. These girls are all academic masochists; they will
eat up anything that makes them work for 40 hours a week in order to look
better on college applications. Let’s use a logical approach and go to some of
the less popular tables.” Says Stacy
They walk up to a deserted table. The
sign says “Wrestling Club”. Two large muscular girls become very excited when
they saw the three approaching
“So you want to join the Wrestling Club, eh?”
says a stout girl with a rough deep voice dressed in a leotard with triceps the
size of Stacy’s thighs and a muscular core as wide as her shoulders.
“I don’t know; what do you do in the
Wrestling Club? I’ve seen some pro wrestling now and then, it’s quite the
spectacle, is this some kind of fan club?” asks Stacy almost ashamed of the
wrestlers costumes, avoiding eye contact
“You’re looking for the pro wrestling
club; this is just the normal kind. The answer to that question is simple.” The
other equally imposing wrestler responds, “We lift weights and we wrestle.”
“I see,” says Stacy “It’s probably not
for me, I’m not very strong and I’m pretty small, you would just have you way with
me.”
“Oh ho ho, I would like that.” Says the
first wrestler, grinning “But that’s not how it works; your size is to your
advantage and you only wrestle people in your own weight class.”
“I
don’t know, I’m not very athletic.” Says Stacy dismissively
“Come on Stacy, it would be fun. You’ve
always been a little fighter on the inside.” Teases Ophelia.
Stacy rolls her eyes
“Sadly, I’ve got some bad news for you.
Stacy here is built like an ideal wrestler, small and aerodynamic. On the other
hand, those assets you’ve got would easily put you in another weight class by
themselves and sadly they don’t provide any advantage when wrestling, it’s just
dead weight.” Says the second wrestler, grimacing
“Wow Stacy, the whole time I’ve had it
wrong, I thought you were underdeveloped but it turns out the whole time you
were just “aerodynamic”.” Giggles Ophelia.
“Jesus, Ophelia, they really must have
struck a nerve for you to try to deflect the one possible instance of corporeal
rejection on to me. I guess it hurts when somebody puts your only redeeming
features in the same category as your brain.” Says Stacy smugly “By the way,
what about Jenna here, she’s quite the athlete, you don’t want her?”
“Well you see, Jenna here, she is more
of a swimmer. She is quite tall and that is a major disadvantage in wrestling,
she gets a lot of her weight from her bones and organs and all that is going to
be pure muscle on a shorter girl when she goes to wrestle. Those long weak arms
are going to get manhandled real easily by a little girl with a bunch of fight
in her.” Says the first wrestler
“That’s ok; I’m not that much of an
athlete anyways. I may look athletic but I’m not particularly competitive,
certainly not enough to win a fight. Thanks for your time, ladies, but we’re
all trying to join the same club, so I don’t think this is right for us.” Says
Jenna, rubbing the back of her head,
“Come back to see us Stacy; sport
wrestling starts in the winter! We want your body!” Says the second wrestler
“Looks like I’m not the one with people
making envious remarks about my body today. I told you it feels weird.” Jokes
Ophelia as they walk away
“Not in a weird way! Please do come
back in the winter!” Says the wrestler
The girls walk past some more clubs
stopping at the sewing club.
A few pretty pieces of well-made
clothes are hung up, frilly blouses and stylish dresses.
“So you girls are looking to learn the
skills to pay the bills, eh?” says the seamstress at the table
“I was a little more optimistic about
my future than working in a sweatshop where nobody speaks English, but these do
look like the skills to please your husband, if that’s what you mean.” Says
Ophelia, Jenna glares at her
The seamstress laughs nervously “No,
no, don’t be silly. A seamstress is a fine job; many people need to have their
clothes adjusted and some of them even want you to make them some custom
designed pieces. It’s loads of fun; you could even become a fashion designer.”
She says
“That actually does sound fun; I would
love to be a fashion designer.” Says Jenna
“Jenna, the word is housewife; you will
become a housewife mending your children’s clothes and adjusting your husband’s
pants as he gets fatter. I’ve seen my mom do this my whole life, and despite
her endless knowledge of fixing clothes, she is clearly not a fashion designer.
Pretty much every woman knows how to sew, but only one in a million actually
makes it into the fashion industry. I thought you had bigger dreams than
becoming a housewife, but maybe you’ve had a change of heart.” Teases Ophelia
“In that case this would be the perfect
club for you Ophelia; becoming a housewife seems to be one of the brightest
possible futures that God may have in store for you.” Says Jenna, dryly
“I already know how to sew, but if they
had a club about how to keep men happy, I would certainly be interested in that
one.” Says Ophelia
“You definitely don’t want to join that
one; men can’t be happy, they can only be pleased, and I’m sure you’d be in
endless trouble with your parents if you took up those pursuits.” Jokes Stacy
The seamstress laughs nervously.
“Sorry, I don’t think that’s a club here today.”
The three look at the seamstress a bit
dumbfounded, before Stacy starts laughing boisterously.
“I think your club is great, but I have
to look after my foolish friends here, so we’re trying to join a club together,
and I would hate to make you deal with someone so dense they cannot appreciate
your work. Your clothes are beautiful and I hope you can find somebody worthy
of your tutorage.” Says Jenna
The seamstress blushes “Wow, thanks.
I’m Eloise by the way, if you free some time you can stop by and maybe get
measured, we would love for you to be a model for our community functions. A
tall beautiful girl like you can really compliment a dress like most of our
members can’t, sadly.”
“I would be honored; hopefully I can
find a playpen to stick these two children in so I can maybe do something
fulfilling with women of elegant tastes for once rather than be a nanny.” Says
Jenna
“I’m not a child.” Gripes Stacy
“You look like a child.” teases Ophelia
“You have the intellect of a child.”
retorts Stacy, as the girls walk away in pursuit of something
Jenna sighs, “See what I mean?” she
says
“It’s ok, at least you have friends;
they’re silly, but that’s fine. It can be rough time for some of the new girls;
I know it was for me. Anyways, our club meets in the home economics room during
the club period, if you just want to say hello.”
“I’ll definitely come to see you if I
can find the time! Take Care!” says Jenna as she waves, walking back to catch
up with her friends
“Let’s find something we all can enjoy.
Something simple.” Says Jenna
A few girls surround a table with
swooning over a tri-fold of pictures of animals. The three approached the table;
the poster said “Animal Club”.
A pretty girl with a kind face, golden
hair and aqua eyes greets them.
“So you girls like animals?” she asks,
smiling
“I love animals!” Ophelia says
excitedly
“Then this is the club for you; we are
all about animals, we love them. I’m Aurelia, by the way.”
“What does the club do exactly?” asks
Jenna
“We are crusaders for our furry
friends; we heal the sick and wounded, we feed the hungry, we give homes to the
homeless, we give hope to the hopeless, and above all else, we give love to the
unloved.”
“That sounds pretty ambitious.” Jenna
says nervously
“Well, we mostly just volunteer at the
animal shelter and raise money for charity, but I think it sounds better the
way I say it.” Says Aurelia
“Aww, look at these cute puppies! These
kittens look just like you Stacy!” says Ophelia, pointing at a group of white
kittens
“Though we can’t really go to the
shelter every day, in our club room we spend a lot of time learning about
animals or just looking at pictures.” Says Aurelia
“Oh, I was worried for a second, I don’t
know if Ophelia over there could handle the learning part, but she’s good at
looking at pictures as you can tell.” Teases Jenna, frustrated with the
childishness of her friends
Stacy chuckles, “Don’t you want to be a
doctor, Jenna? Helping sick animals sounds like a start in the right
direction.” She says
“Do you like animals though Stacy? I
remember you were afraid of dogs when you were smaller.” Says Jenna
“Don’t worry about it, Stacy,” chimes
in the bored looking girl besides Aurelia “Some of us just use the time to do
our homework. You don’t really have to love animals.”
“I guess I like animals enough.
Besides, I’m not scared of dogs any more, it’s just that most of them used to
be way bigger than me, but I’m ok with them now.” Says Stacy, defensively
“If you like cats more you can work
with them. All of the animals need love” says Aurelia “A lot of them won’t let
you pet them but they will play with toys sometimes and be really glad that you
feed them. Really low impact stuff.” Says Aurelia
“That sounds nice; I think I can handle
that.” Says Stacy.
“Ok, Ophelia, do you want to join this
club?” says Jenna, Ophelia having been absorbed by the many pictures of animals
lying around, flipping through magazines
“Oh yes, please, please, please!” she
says giddily
“Then it is decided.” Says Jenna
“Really? Yay!” says Ophelia
“Just sign your name on the paper and
you will become official members of the Animal Club.” Says Aurelia. “Welcome
Aboard!”
“Anchors away!” says the bored girl,
sarcastically
“If you’re not going to help me recruit
people just be quiet Sloan.” Says Aurelia, the three sign the paper
“I’m just giving the girls a second
reason to join. I’m just being your backup saleswoman.” Says Sloan
“It sounds like you would rather be in
the Homework club, Sloan.” Says Aurelia, mildly put off
Sloan laughs, “No way; those girls
actually like doing their homework.
No way I’d want to be in a room with those weirdos; I might end up getting into
other forms of masochism.” Says Sloan, in dry jest
Aurelia rolls her eyes “Just ignore her;
we are glad you want to join us and look forward to spending time with you! Our
club room is 247 a biology room on the second floor, you can’t miss it because
of the sound of the bird in there. See you tomorrow afternoon!” She says
“See you later.” The three said
The girls walk away, all of them
satisfied in some way, even if Stacy is only satisfied with the feeling of
having completed the school day, far earlier than scheduled thanks to their
efficiency. They walk out into the courtyard.
“We should do something to commemorate our
first day of school!” says Ophelia
“Like what?” asks Stacy
“I don’t know. I’m not too familiar
with this part of town so I don’t know what there is to do around here.” Says
Ophelia
“We could just go exploring or
something. I’m sure we’d find something to do.” Says Stacy
“Do you think your sister wants to come,
Stacy?” asks Jenna
“I’ll ask.” Stacy sends her sister a
text message
“I saw a park while I was walking;
maybe we could go there. I saw tetherball and other things” Says Ophelia
“I think that would be great; you two
need to let out some of your silly aggression somehow.” Says Jenna
“I’ll be sure to turn that aggression
into depression once I whoop you at tetherball Ophelia.”
“Yeah right, bring it on!” Stacy
replies
Stacy receives a message. “It’s Stella,
she says she will be coming home late; she says she joined the student council
and they have a lot of things to explain to the new recruits.”
“Your sister is crazy. It’s the first day
of school and she decides that she needs more responsibilities than getting
perfect grades.” Says Ophelia
“She never seems to have trouble in
school; I’m sure that she just wants something to challenge her and give her something to care
about; just showing up and getting good grades is a kind of empty existence,
don’t you think?” says Stacy
“I’m sure she just cares about the
school and the students, even here it seems where she doesn’t know anybody. She
has always been that way.” Says Jenna
“It’s true. There’s no point waiting
around for her though, so let us embark. Our adventure awaits.” Says Stacy.
“Lead the way Ophelia and prepare for the demise of your pride.”
The girls laugh, walk out the gates of
the school and head down the street. The late summer sun is still high in the
sky as they pass by buildings full of people still toiling through the work
day. The streets are fairly quiet save for the murmuring echoes of schoolgirls
dispersing like water trickling out of a dam.
The girls show up at the park, small children
playing with their parents and the wild school children playing in a soccer
field and on basketball courts. The tetherball stands idle, a bit ragged but
still functional. The Stacy and Ophelia start to playfully hit the ball back
and forth, their competitive nature solely a personality trait rather than an
extension of any athletic capability.
“You are too big, too slow, you can
never match my speed!” shouts Stacy as she hits the ball which lazily swings to
the other side
“You are weak, like a child; you will
soon learn that it is foolish to challenge your master.” Replies Ophelia as she
strikes the ball with a comparable lack of force
“My strength comes from within; your
big muscles tire easily, but my soul will never weaken!” says Stacy
Jenna sits on the grass, entertained by
their playful nature. A dog barks from behind them, the look over to see a
large albeit friendly looking dog panting and looking at them.
“A doggie!” says Ophelia excitedly “Let’s
go pet him.”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Says Stacy timidly
Ophelia doesn’t listen and runs over
and starts to pet the dog. The other girls follow her.
“What is your name Mr. Dog?” says
Ophelia cutely
“How do you know my name?” says a
voice, the dog staring intently at Ophelia, mouth closed
“Um.. did you just hear a voice just
now?” asks Stacy timidly
“You can speak?” asks Ophelia
The dog turns its head sideways and
barks.
“Not like that, silly, like how you
just spoke in English, Mr. Dog.” Says Ophelia playfully, completely oblivious
to the surreal nature of the situation, too overwhelmed by the cuteness
“That is telepathy. I am curious as to
how you already knew my name, little girl.” Says the voice
“Um, I guess I’m a good guesser.” Says
Ophelia, playfully nonchalant, as the two other girls stare at her dumbfounded
“Please call me Wolf, Mr. Dog was my
father, I am unworthy of such a noble title. There is a reason I am here, why I
speak to you, I must ask for your help, it is very important.” Staring at the
girls seriously
“Ok Wolfie, how can we help?” asks
Ophelia sincerely
The dog rolls over onto its back, “Rub
my belly.” He says, grinning expectantly
“Ok!” says Ophelia as she rubs his
belly. “I’m happy to help you.”
“Oh yes, this is very good. Thank you
very much.” Says the dog
“You are such a good boy, so nice and
polite.” Says Ophelia
“There is one more thing I must ask of
you girls. That wasn’t it, I just wanted that belly rub, so badly; it’s been so
long. Thank you for that much, at least.” Says the dog
“We’d be happy to help!” says Ophelia
“I am ashamed of this; my family used
to be able to do this by ourselves, but the world is no longer the wild place
it once was. I need you three to help me do good and fight evil. I will grant
each of you a wish, to give you whatever magical powers you ask for to help you
accomplish this task if you promise to help me. Just tell me what power you
wish to use to help me and I shall grant it to you.”
“Wow really, a wish?” Says Ophelia
“Since it was love that brought me to you, I wish for the power of love!”
“Wonderful” says the dog.
“Damn it, Ophelia. This is crazy. We’re
not doing this.” Says Stacy
“No, Stacy, we are part of the Animal
Club; it is our duty to help this very nice dog.” Says Ophelia indignantly
“She needs the help of both of you; she
will not be able to do this all by herself. Please, help me, help your friend;
you girls have the power to help the helpless, please think of those in need.”
“Ok…” says Jenna “I’m pretty sure that
I’m losing my mind right here; I know magic and talking dogs don’t exist, but
if she needs help, I’ll just go ahead and wish for the power to help people?”
“That is wonderful.” Says the dog
“You are the last one, give me your
wish, little girl.” The Dog looks at Stacy.
“You are kidding me right? We’re all
going crazy? This is a talking dog for crying out loud.” Says Stacy, quite
upset
“This is no joke; these girls need you
to help them in their journey, please wish for some power, anything, and it shall
be granted.” Says the dog
“I believe I am on the brink of death
to be hallucinating like this, but I’ll go ahead and wish for omnipotence, Mr.
magical dog. Grant that wish.” Says Stacy, rolling her eyes in disbelief
“I am sorry, but I can only grant you
powers that I have; I have many powers, but if I had that one I wouldn’t need
your help, would I? Please think of something else.”
“How about omniscience, is that too big
for you? I’m just trying to get some bang for my buck if we’re fantasizing about
wishes.” Says Stacy sarcastically
“That, I can do. Thank you for choosing
to help me.” Says the dog
The dog winks his eye and appears to
smile. “Your wishes have been granted, these rings are the proof. They will
glow when you are helping me and grow dim and dark when you don’t. Please
remember to do good and fight evil, I expect great things from you.” Says the
dog
The girls looked down at their fingers.
They feel them out of disbelief.
“Holy shit. There is an actual ring on
my finger.” Says Stacy “I don’t understand why you would chose us of all people
to give your magical powers to. This is beyond all form of reason right here.”
“Well, I will be honest with you, as
with your new power you could easily see through my lies. If any of you fail to
keep your promise, I will eat you. It is sadly that simple; I just wanted to
eat you, but I feel guilty if I eat innocent little girls, so instead I give
you an opportunity to not be eaten. My family has been unable to do our job for
centuries and our magic is largely wasted. We live as stray dogs while the
world continues to be tortured by endless evil.” Says the dog
“We won’t let you down Mr. Dog!” says
Ophelia as she winks and salutes the dog.
“Are you kidding me Ophelia, he just
said he is going to eat us?!?” Stacy shouts
“No, he said he would eat us if we
don’t use our magical powers to do good and fight evil, how hard can that
possibly be?” says Ophelia
Stacy stares at her, scared and stupefied by her stupidity
“I don’t believe any of this, but the rings are real so we should probably
believe the rest of it, just to be safe. How hard can it be to do some good and
fight evil, especially with magical powers on top of that.” says Jenna calmly,
assured of her own profound insanity, detached as if in a dream
“Remember what I said, girls. I will
leave you be, however, I am going to rummage through some garbage, just looking
at you made me hungry.” Says the dog as it trots away
“Thank you! We won’t forget you
Wolfie!” shouts Ophelia
“Thank you? Really? You are thanking
the dog right now?” asks Stacy rightfully upset
“He didn’t have to give us these rings
you know.” Says Ophelia
“He did it because he wants to eat us.
You realize that right?” asks Stacy
“Well, I mean, if this is real, he
could have just used his magic to eat us right here couldn’t he? I think we
were pretty lucky pretty when you think about it. I’m pretty sure I’m dead or
dreaming right now, so I’m not particularly concerned either way.” Says Jenna
“Wow, ok, just ignore what happened,
that’s reasonable. Besides, I don’t feel any magic, and all he did was give us
some rings that look like mood rings. This is dumb, nope, I quit.” Says Stacy
as she tries to pull the ring off. “It won’t come off. Shit.”
“Only I can take it off, and only when
you die.” Says Mr. Dog
“Did you hear that?” asks Stacy
“Hear what?” asks Jenna
“You didn’t just hear that dog’s
voice?” Stacy asks
“Nope.” The two others say
“Damn it.” Says Stacy, holding her head,
rattled by the voice, “What the fuck did I just do?”
“Looks like you can’t quit Stacy, so
stop being a sourpuss and let’s try to figure out what we should do.” Says
Ophelia
“I don’t feel any magic either, so I am
at a loss to be honest. It’s like he told us to put out a fire without giving
us water.” Says Jenna, disheartened
“Wow, you two are so dumb. It’s common
sense that we have to transform into our magical forms in order to use our
magic; that’s how it always works.” Says Ophelia condescendingly
“How exactly would we do that?” asks
Stacy, clearly unentertained
“Well, I’m pretty sure you just spin
around and jump in the air and want it to happen.” Says Ophelia, with a tone
wavering between confidence and doubt
“Well then, why don’t you give us a
twirl, little girl?” Asks Stacy, becoming increasingly sarcastic
“I’d love to.” Says Ophelia, playfully
conceited, delighted with her enlightenment for once, as she spins around and
jumps into the air, suddenly surrounded by a bright pink light, her silhouette
enveloped by a flaming fox which swirls around her body to instantly reveal a
cute flared red dress with a white bodice and pink accents flowing up from the
skirt. Two doves fly overhead, one of which drops a red witch’s hat wrapped in
a white bow on her head and the other a scepter crowned with a red jewel in the
shape of a heart. She comes to the ground and poses with her leg curled like a
cabaret dancer pointing her scepter towards Stacy with her hand holding the
brim of her hat.
“Told you so Stacy!” says Ophelia as she
winks and giggles
Stacy stares at her, mouth agape,
speechless and bewildered
“Now you try.” Says Ophelia
encouragingly
“Jenna you go first; seeing that just
broke my mind. I’m going to need a second.” Says Stacy
“Ok.” Says Jenna timidly, “So I just
spin and jump or something?”
“You have to want it to happen.”
Reminds Ophelia
“Ok…” says Jenna, reluctantly, wanting
answers more than anything else, as she spins slowly and jumps, she begins to
float as a dark purple light surrounds her, her frame glowing as the air seems
to rush around her body, a murder of crows fly around her body, scattering to
reveal a dress nearly identical to Ophelia, however almost entirely black, with
a black bodice and a black skirt, adorned with and white and purple accents, a
raven flies over and drops a black witch’s hat with a purple ribbon on her
head. She lands squarely and halfheartedly attempts to point her scepter at
Stacy before realizing that she doesn’t have one, beginning to frantically wave
her arms in search but to no avail.
“You’re the last one Stacy, no more
excuses.” Says Ophelia
“Fine.” Says Stacy, as she spins around
and jumps into the air. She lands and the girls are surprised that nothing
happened. Stacy stood there still in her school uniform.
“Come on Stacy, do it right. Remember
you have to want it.” Says Ophelia
“I really didn’t want it at all though;
I was just scared.” Says Jenna, in shock
“Well try being scared.” Says Ophelia
Stacy spins around and jumps. Again,
nothing happens. She looks at the two others, annoyed and a bit confused. “Well
maybe I don’t know how to do it yet, but I’ll learn later.” Says Stacy
“Wow Stacy, what a letdown; I really
wanted to see yours, oh Miss Omniscience.” Says Ophelia
Stacy rubs the back of her head “Well,
what do I do now? I still have this stupid ring.”
“You know what to do.”
The voice of the dog clearly echoed through Stacy’s mind.
“Is that dog still here? I just heard
him say something.” Asks Stacy
“No. I don’t see him. I didn’t hear anything
anyways.” Says Ophelia
“So I guess he was just talking to me
or something…” Says Stacy
“What did he say?” asks Jenna
“All he said was ‘You know what to do’,
which is ironic because I don’t have the slightest clue even though I’m
supposed to.” Says Stacy
“So much for the all-knowing Stacy.”
Giggles Ophelia
“What a lame dog, he said he would give
me omniscience and the only preternatural thought I’ve had so far has been the
voice of that stupid dog.” Says Stacy
“You know what I said.” The
voice of the dog returns
“He is not a stupid dog, he is a
wonderful dog.” Says Ophelia
Stacy, zoning out, thinking about what
the dog had told her; the recollection of the conversation comes flowing back
to her, clear as day.
“I just remembered that conversation we
had with the dog right now, plain as day, and it’s perfectly clear now even
though I didn’t realize it at the time. He wasn’t granting us a wish in the
sense I thought, he said he would give us a magical power to help do good and
fight evil. I’m guessing that’s the only time my powers will activate or
something because I still don’t even remember half my teachers’ names.” Says Stacy,
rubbing her neck and a little embarrassed
“You’re just a late bloomer like always
Stacy. Let’s go try to make Mr. Dog happy with our newfound power.” Says
Ophelia
“I don’t want anybody to see me like
this. I look like a total loser. Who even wears this kind of stuff?” ” Says
Jenna, embarrassed by her outfit and silly hat
“Well, magical girls, clearly, Jenna,
duh. Anyways, she’s right that we wouldn’t want anybody to figure out who we
really are or our lives could get super complicated. We have to have some sort
of magical names to be called, but I can’t think of one.” Says Ophelia
“Yep. This is not Jenna, not at all.
Just some weird loser that nobody knows. I know some girls wear outfits like
this, but I am definitely not one of them.” Says Jenna looking over her
shoulders to see if anyone is staring at her
“Stacy, you should use your magical
brain to help give us awesome names. I’m expecting great things.” Says Ophelia
“Well, you had a fiery fox around you
and have red hair and stuff, so you can be Blaze. Jenna you had a bunch of
crows around you, and a raven, so we’ll just go with Raven.” Says Stacy, enjoying
her newfound authority, baselessly presuming her own infallible omniscience
“Wow Stacy, I can tell you really
worked hard to come up with those names.” Says Blaze, sarcastically
“I think they are nice, Ophelia. They
are pretty accurate.” Says Raven, smiling, relieved to no longer be Jenna
“Fine, what is your name Stacy?” Asks Blaze
“Well, I didn’t transform or anything
so I guess I’m still Stacy.” She says
“Lame, I’m going to call you Kitty.”
Says Blaze
“You call her that anyways Ophelia…”
says Raven
“Whatever, it’s still your magical
name.” says Blaze
“Fine. I’ll let you have this one…
Blaze…” says Stacy, giggling a little bit
“At least me and Jenna have cool,
majestic, powerful names; you’re still just a cute little Kitty.” Teases Blaze
“Who is Jenna? I bet she’s a great
girl. My name is Raven though.” Says Raven, as she gestures with her eyes at a
couple of people who were now looking at them, smirking
“Right, Raven. Ok. Now that we have
taken care of that we begin our real duties to help Mr. Dog.” Says Blaze
“Lead the way, Blaze…” says Stacy still
sarcastic even after the ordeal
“Mama will teach her little Kitty
everything she needs to know about being a magical girl.” Says Blaze proudly
“Raven would like to learn as well.
Please and thank you. I don’t read the sorts of books you do. I don’t even know
where to begin.” Says Raven as the three embark from the tetherball court,
following Blaze towards the crowds of the park
The warm sun beats down upon the grassy
field with a pleasant breeze swaying the blades of grass. A baby in a stroller
is crying softly, its mother standing beside it talking to a woman walking her
small dog, smiling, laughing. Blaze approaches the woman with her companions in
tow. “You baby needs love!” she says boldly, pointing her scepter at the woman
“Jesus, I will feed the baby in a
second; what is wrong with you?” Says the confused woman
“Can’t you hear it crying? Have you no
heart?” asks Blaze
“I’m not deaf; Baby’s cry all the time,
are you an idiot?” asks the woman
“Clearly.” Remarks Stacy snidely from
behind her
“The power of love compels you!” says
Blaze as she waves her scepter menacingly
“You have got to be kidding me.” The
woman sighs, picks up her baby and starts to nurse the child.
“You can go away now, Ms. Love Witch.
The baby is loved.” Says the woman now annoyed and bewildered
“Love conquers all yet again!” says
Blaze, profoundly satisfied with her good deed
“Please go away.” Says the woman
“Sorry!” says Raven as she drags Blaze
away from the woman, Stacy chuckling behind them
“You see, that’s how it’s done. Just
use your powers to help people; it’s literally a walk in the park.” Says Blaze
“Now I leave the rest up to you. Go out
in search of people you can help with your magic and you shall be fulfilled
like I am. I shall search for more people in need of the miracle of love.” Says
Blaze proudly, with pompous noble airs
“Ok…” says Raven, trying to figure out
whether Blaze was acting out of a dearth of mental health or mental capacity,
as Blaze runs away
“Well, we should really try to learn to
do this.” Says Raven “I don’t want to let down Mr. Dog. I’m rather confident he
thinks we’re idiots so it will just be easy for him to eat us.”
“Well, let’s just not be idiots then;
it will be a trial by fire, but a change of pace could be nice. Anyways, I’m
sure it will be easy for you to find somebody to help; isn’t your power just
helping people?” asks Stacy
Raven laughs nervously, “I don’t know
if it will be that easy, I still have no idea how to use magic.” She says
“Well, practice makes perfect.” Says
Stacy, more concerned with being entertained at the moment than doing anything
to please Mr. Dog
“That woman over at the picnic table
under that overhang looks like she could use some help. She looks upset for
some reason.” Says Raven
“I guess it’s worth a shot.” Says Stacy
as the girls walk over to a woman sitting alone with her head in her palms.
“You look troubled. Can I help you
somehow?” asks Raven with timid politeness
“Jesus, is it Halloween already? Why are you
dressed up like a witch?” asks the startled woman
“Well, I am a helpful witch. I am here
to help.” Says Raven, weakly, looking away and at the ground, ashamed of
herself, equally as confused as the woman
“It’s just a headache and cramps. Where is
your wand anyways, how are you going to use your magic?” asks the woman
sarcastically
“I guess I have to use my hands” Raven
begins waving her hands around the woman’s body at some distance. “Am I helping?”
“I’m just glad you’re not making it worse.
Somehow you might actually be helping; maybe I’m just losing my mind.” says the
woman
“I’ll just have to focus my power.” She
moves her hands closer to the woman, her actions looking similar to basketball
defense
“What the fuck? Why is that actually
helping?” Says the woman, in disbelief at even the mild sense of relief
“I am glad I could help.” Says Raven
with a smile as she stops her waving
“Don’t just fucking tease me with your
Jesus hands.” The woman, annoyed, as she grabs Raven’s hands and rubs them on
her head and pelvis
“Oh my God. I would never believe in
this kind of shit but you made my day kid. Thank you. Good god.” Says the
woman, continuing to rub Raven’s hands on her body
“Please do good things now.” Says Raven,
fairly intimidated by the woman’s actions but unwilling to resist the woman’s
force
“Ok, I’m just going to try to spend
time with my kid. I do feel a lot better now, thank you. I’m sure that seems
weird a shit for someone to believe you, but that placebo effect worked wonders
for some reason.” Says the woman, smiling, finally letting go of Raven’s hands
“That is a very good thing to do.” Says
Raven, politely, distantly, struggling to find something to say
“You are a weird little girl, but do
you have like a card or something for your faith healing shit, in case I need
somebody like you.” Asks the woman in a playfully serious manner
“Um, no It is my first day on the job, but if
you ever see me don’t be afraid to ask; I live around here.” Says Raven in
mutual happiness
“Ok, it would be hard to miss you in a
crowd. Do you have a name by any chance Ms. Helpful Witch?” asks the woman
“J… Raven. My name is Raven.” She says,
a little embarrassed having almost told the woman her real name
The woman laughs “It suits you. It was
a pleasure to meet you. Who is your friend by the way? Is she a witch too?”
“Yes.” Says Raven
“No.” says Stacy.
“She is learning, hopefully she can
become a real witch one day.” Says Raven
“Well, good luck; we could really use
more people like you around here, Raven. You really are a miracle. I’ve seen
this shit on TV all the time, but I never thought it was real.” Says the woman
“Do have a wonderful day; I hope I can
help others the way I helped you. You were my first, so I am happy it went
well.” Says Raven
“Don’t worry, you are a natural. You’ve
got an amazing power and I can hardly believe it; hell, I can’t, but you should
believe in it; it’s real.” Says the woman
“Thank you very much, you are very
kind. Ta-ta.” Says Raven, flattered, still embarrassed, yet somehow excited and
proud or herself; she prances away grabbing Stacy’s hand
“I am literally in awe right now.” Says
Stacy
“I can’t believe it actually worked.”
Says Raven
“It seems like you are the only one who
ended up with real magic.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure we will all figure out how to
do it; I’m just flying blind right now and I guess I got lucky; it feels so
natural, like it’s an instinct.” Says Raven
“I hope I can find my instinct. I still
don’t even know what I am supposed to do.” Says Stacy
“You know what to do.”
The voice of the dog already too familiar and too unnerving inside of Stacy’s
mind, she brushes it off
“Let’s try to get some more practice.”
Says Raven
Blaze had approached a young couple in
their twenties sitting under a tree relaxing and nuzzling one another. The
woman looks at Blaze and smiles wholesomely.
“Well aren’t you cute?” she says
Blaze is delighted “Do my eyes deceive
me? Are you two lovers?” she asks
“You are very intuitive.” Says the man,
humoring the girl
“Please allow me to cast blessing of
love upon you, so that your love will be strong forever!” says Blaze excitedly
“By all means, go right ahead.” Says
the woman, giggling
“Love and love and be loved, oh lovers,
love!” says Blaze, remarkably serious as she spins around, points her scepter
at the two, smiling as she winks at them. The gemstone at the top glows
slightly, surprising even Blaze.
“Wow, your toy even lights up, isn’t
that neat?” says the woman.
“It is no toy; it allows me to kindle
the fires of love in even the coldest places! I am the witch of love!” says
Blaze, confidently
“There was already magic between us,”
says the man, squeezing his girl “but you just helped make it stronger with
your magic. Hopefully you can find more people to help.” Says the man,
lightheartedly playing along
“I am glad I could help, but now I must
be off to spread love to every corner of the earth!” says Blaze proudly
“Good luck! We won’t forget you!” says
the woman, still giggling as Blaze runs off, the man belts out the laughter he
was holding back the entire time Blaze was talking to them once she is out of
earshot
Raven and Stacy see a little boy sitting
on the ground crying and approach him.
“What’s wrong little boy?” asks Raven
sincerely
“I lost my toy lion” says the boy
sniffing back tears “I had him when I came here, but now I lost him.”
“Maybe my friend Stacy can help you.”
Says Raven
Stacy looks at her in shock, and shakes
her head.
“Well, what should we do Stacy?” asks
Raven
“Umm, maybe use your magic?” says Stacy
with a twinge of sarcasm
“Oh, ok, well..” Raven looks at her
hands, clasps them, blindly expecting the problem to be resolved by doing so,
and when she opens them a small glowing apparition reminiscent of a firefly
appears.
“This… fairy… will help you find your
lion.” Says Raven unsteadily, entirely unsure of what was happening and what to
say
“Wow, you really are a witch!” Says the
boy excitedly
“Oh, yes, I am.” Says Raven nervously
as she smiles
The firefly floats in front of the boy
and he starts to chase it eagerly.
“Wow, Raven; what was that?” asks
Stacy, wholeheartedly impressed
“I have no idea, I just thought to use
my hands to help the child and that is what happened. I had no idea what to do
so I just kind of clapped them and hoped something would happen. Hopefully it
actually does what I said or I will feel stupid.” Says Raven
The boy has already started to return,
running as fast as he can holding onto his lion.
“It really worked! Wow! He was under
the slide and your fairy showed me where he was! Thank you so much!” shouted
the boy excitedly as he runs back towards the girls.
The boy comes and hugs Raven as tightly
as he can, “You are the best. Thank you so much!” he says, tearing up slightly
from his joy.
Stacy and Raven both look at each other
and share a feeling of mildly pleasant disbelief. Blaze comes walking up to the
girls with a proud look on her face.
“The world is now all the more lovely
and wonderful thanks to me, the witch of love!” she says
“Wow, that’s great. You really are a
natural.” Says Raven supportively
“I hope you girls have been able to
harness your true potential.” Says Blaze
“I actually did help a couple of
people; I’m still not quite sure how, but it was definitely magical.” Says
Raven, proud but still embarrassed by her appearance
“Yeah, Raven actually healed a sick
woman and summoned a fairy to help a child find his toy…” says Stacy
“That’s amazing!” says Blaze with wide
eyes “How about you Stacy, who did you help?”
Stacy looked at her with a blank face.
“Well, I still don’t really know how to use my powers.” She says
“Then it’s our duty as your fellow
magical girls to help you figure it out. I’m a bit tired, but we can sit down
at that picnic table and brainstorm.” Says Blaze
“Ok.” Says Stacy, smiling as they walk
over to the table and sit down
“Your power has to do with knowing
stuff, so I bet you can just think of ways to help people.”
“I suppose I should try that.” Says
Stacy
“Just close your eyes and think really
hard. I’m sure it will work.” Says Blaze
Stacy closes her eyes. Her face quickly
contorts into look of sheer terror, her eyes open, full of fear.
“Well…” says Stacy “I tried that and
there were vivid images of lots of very terrible things happening to people,
all very bad things. That was super scary.” She says, her heart racing
“If we are supposed to do good and
fight evil then maybe your power is telling you to go stop them.” Says Blaze
genuinely
“This was hundreds, thousands of people
being assaulted, molested, beaten, murdered, and robbed. I don’t think I can
stop these things.” Says Stacy, nervously
“Maybe you just need to practice to
really learn to take advantage of your power. Try again and see if you can find
something bad close to here.” Says Raven
“Ok…” says Stacy as she closes her eyes for a
second, once again stricken by the same fear “Nope. Nope. Just more very bad
things.” A cold sweat beads on her face.
“Well, it is what you wished for; I
suppose Mr. Dog figured you would be able to do what he asked somehow with that
power.” Says Blaze, disheartened
“Where there’s a will there’s a way.
I’m sure you will figure it out, Stacy.” Says Jenna, supportively
“Ok…” says Stacy, still shocked
“Maybe instead of just thinking of
helping everybody, focus on one person.” Says Jenna
Stacy peers off into the distance, the
summer sun slowly falling towards the horizon. She sees a man walking and
closes her eyes. Opening them, this time confused, but not afraid.
“Well I tried it on that guy over there;
it was just a lot of minor inconveniences and things, nothing really bad or
good. The most I could figure out is that he forgot his wife’s birthday and
borrowed is co-worker’s stapler and forgot to return it.” Says Stacy
“That’s great. You can go remind him of
his wife’s birthday!” says Blaze excitedly
“It was last week…” says Stacy,
disheartened.
“What about the stapler?” asks Jenna
“Well, he knows he forgot to return it
and will do it tomorrow. I wouldn’t really be accomplishing anything.” Says
Stacy
“Oh well, at least you sort of know how
to use your powers, which is cool. Maybe you can learn to transform too.” Says
Blaze
Stacy rolls her eyes.
“Just use your magic on people and
maybe you can find a way to help somebody.” Says Raven
“You will know if you’ve done a good
job because your ring will glow white like mine!” says Blaze as she shows her
friends the ring, glowing with a very faint pink-white aura.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that.” Says
Raven as she shows her friends her ring, this one emitting a much stronger pure
white light.
A disheartened look strikes Blaze “How come yours is so much brighter than
mine?” She says
“I don’t know. Beginner’s luck I
guess.” Says Raven, flattered
“How about yours, Stacy?” asks Blaze
Stacy shows them her hand, the variable
band of the silver ring emitting a cloudy light grey color.
“That’s ok. I’m sure you will get it to
glow in now time.” Says Raven, smiling
“It’s getting late, we should head
home.” Says Blaze
“Wait,” says Stacy “I don’t want to
leave until I’ve done something to make my ring glow.”
“We could be here all night, Stacy. But
it’s worth a shot. I don’t want to get in trouble though.” Says Blaze, somewhat
pessimistically, but supportive
“I just figured out how to use my
magic; I’m just going to search for the closest thing I can do.”
Stacy scans the crowd of people
littered throughout the park; she glances towards a woman in the distance
talking on her cell phone and is slightly startled by her premonition.
“I just felt something, let me try to
figure it out.” She says as she closes her eyes. “I know what I have to do. You
wait here I’ll be right back.” Says Stacy, determined
“We’ll come with you and help.” Says
Blaze
“No, I have to do this by myself.” Says
Stacy
“Ok.” Says Blaze as she rolls her eyes
Stacy walks briskly over to the woman
who had hung up her cell phone and began to walk away.
“Ma’am!” shouts Stacy “Can I talk to
you for a moment?”
“What do you want?”
“Please listen to me,” says Stacy,
nervous but with constitution, “Don’t let your husband go out drinking tonight.
He will crash his car, get into a fight with a police officer, go to jail, and
lose his job. Please, I’m begging you; convince him to stay home tonight.”
“What? Do you know my husband? Who are
you and why do you care?” asks the woman, put off and confused
“I’m sorry, I don’t know your husband,
but I just had this sense, this vision, when I saw you that this would happen.
The man who wants to fight him is already at the bar; if he goes to O’Leary’s
tonight there is no doubt this will happen.” Says Stacy
“Shit, that is actually the bar my
husband goes to… are you really psychic? I really want to believe you because
that sounds exactly like something my husband would do; he is a hotheaded man.”
Says the woman, both impressed and concerned
“So you believe me?” asks Stacy
“Not really, but a part of me does. I
have been a bit cold to him lately, and that might be something that helps set
him off. The only reason I am willing to believe you is because the story is so
believable, too believable. If you told me he would get a promotion or a raise
I would have just laughed and walked away. Since you seem so genuinely
concerned about it, I’ll try to make him stay in tonight; he has been good to
me lately and deserves a little reward. That was creepy as shit though, I’ll be
honest, coming up to me out of the blue like that, psychic or not.” Says the
woman, smiling
“Wow, Ok. That’s good. A bit too much
information, but thanks you for listening, it really means a lot to me!” says
Stacy, excitedly
“Wow, so young and innocent. What’s
your name anyways?” asks the woman.
“It’s Stacy.” She says
“I’m Louise. I’ve never met a psychic
before, only seen them on television; and even if that was a cold reading, I’ll
give you the benefit of the doubt just because you spooked the shit out of me
by getting it right. Thanks for being concerned about my husband; there are
very few people in the world who give a rat’s ass whether he lives or dies, in
fact I might be the only one. That’s the part that really got me.” She says,
with a sad and distant look on her face.
“Well, that makes two of us now. I also
mostly did it for you; I don’t want you to suffer from this either.” Says Stacy
sincerely
The woman stares at Stacy, a bit dumbfounded,
and touches Stacy’s shoulder “I don’t care if you are just a crazy girl. It
means a lot to me that you actually care about other people. That is rare in
people, even in little girls these days. It’s even hard for me to do that, but
thank you.” Says the woman with a teardrop in her eye
Stacy hugs her, and thanks her for
listening before saying goodbye and returning to her friends
“How did it go Stacy?” asks Raven
“Good, I think.” Says Stacy
“Well, let’s see your ring then.” Says
Blaze, still feeling competitive
Stacy lifts her hand, her ring was
noticeably brighter but still a cloudy light grey compared to her friends.
“Well, it did get a little brighter, and that was my first try so I’ll think of
it as a victory.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you were able to figure
something out, even if you can’t transform yet.” Says Jenna
“I’m going to go home; I wouldn’t want
to stay out so late my parents start asking questions” says Blaze
“Yeah, I’ve got to study, we all do. We
have our syllabuses now, so we don’t have any excuses. School is going to be
tough and now we have this on top of it.” Says Raven
“Make sure you transform back, you
wouldn’t want your parents to see you dressed up like that.” Says Stacy
“Sadly, it has come time for us to
return to our normal lives, until tomorrow when we continue our quest to bring
love and happiness to everybody!” says Blaze as she spins around and ends up
back in her normal clothes without any sort of spectacle. “Aww, I wanted to do
the cool transformation thing again.” She says
“So we just spin around?” asks Raven
“That should do the trick.” Says
Ophelia, saddened by her disheartening return to form
Raven spins around and is Jenna once
again. “Thank god I’m out of those silly clothes.” She says
“Come on, they were super cute.” Says
Ophelia, as the girls walk back towards the road, back towards their houses,
listening to Ophelia ramble on about the endless, seemingly inapplicable, ins
and outs of plotlines of the magical girl books she reads
“My head is still spinning after all of
this; I’ll see you all tomorrow, Stacy. Unfortunately I’ll be continuing this
lesson in magical girls most all the way home.” Says Jenna
“You should be grateful; this is
important.” Says Ophelia
“It sounds like nonsense.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to believe me; soon enough
there will be evil demons or magical wizards we have to fight off with our
powers. I’ve read about this too many times.” Says Ophelia
“Have fun, Jenna. I’ll see you two
tomorrow.” Says Stacy, chuckling, as the girls exchange goodbyes and head their
separate ways
Stacy walks home in the evening sun,
she doesn’t look at those who pass her by, she doesn’t want to think about
them. The day’s events rattled her to the point where her own mind scared her,
like a dangerous animal staring at her in the eyes, she just wants to avoid eye
contact and walk away as fast as she can. She knows she can’t escape her mind, and
this scares her even more. She shakes her head as she tries to forget about it.
A short while later she reaches the door
of her tired home and lets herself in, her father is snoring on the couch as the
television drones. The smell of simmering spices greets her, her sister already
hard at work in the kitchen. Stacy takes her shoes off, puts her bag down,
exhausted as she walks into the kitchen.
“Welcome back, I hope you’re hungry.”
Says her sister, already changed out of her uniform, delighted to see her
“Of course, it smells delicious. What
is it?” Stacy asks
“Spinach and Lentil soup. Go get
changed, it will be ready pretty soon.” Says Stella
“Ok.” Says Stacy as she runs up the
stairs, happy to be in her cozy familiar home
Stacy comes back in relaxed dress as
her sister sets the table.
“So you really decided to join the
Student Council?” asks Stacy
“Yeah, I felt like I would be wasting
my time if I was doing something silly. I would rather be productive; it just
feels weird otherwise, ominous. You know?” says Stella cheerfully
Stacy laughs “Idle hands are the devils
workshop. I guess that’s why you’ve always been such an angel.” She teases
Stella rolls her eyes and laughs “What
club did you end up joining?” she asks
“Well, Me, Jenna, and Ophelia wanted to
be in the same one, we got a few different offers but decided on the Animal
Club.” Says Stacy “They try to help animals like strays and raise money for
that sort of thing.”
“How cute; you’re helping poor little animals
and you’re calling me an angel?” jokes Stella “What did you end up doing after
school today, anyways? You got home pretty late.”
“Nothing much, me and the girls just
went exploring and found a cool park near school to hang out at.” says Stacy
“Lovely weather for that sort of thing;
I was learning the basics of bureaucracy. I had no idea it was the students who
orchestrated all of the community events and things. It seems like endless
work, but I think being a part of something that important and much bigger than
myself will make all that work worthwhile.” Says Stella, serving up two bowls
of soup
“You are stronger than I am. There’s no
way I could volunteer to spend more time at school and enjoy myself at the same
time.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you will find something that
you want to devote your life to one day; I just really enjoy this sort of
thing, it’s a great feeling when you are given an important responsibility and
you are able to do what was asked, even better if you can supersede their
expectations.” Says Stella
The talk of responsibility and
expectations strikes a nerve in Stacy; she pauses and looks down at her ring.
“What is it?” asks her sister
“Nothing. Just some stray thought.”
Says Stacy
“That’s a cute ring, where did you get
it?” asks Stella
“Oh, um… It’s a mood ring; it’s just a
cheap little thing we found at a toy shop along the way home. We thought they
were cute so we all got one.” Says Stacy, hesitant
“Really? What does the grey say about
your mood?” asks Stella
Stacy laughs nervously “I wouldn’t put
too much faith in it, I guess it would mean ambivalent.” She says
“You think we should wake up dad? I bet
he’s hungry.” Asks Stacy
“We should probably let him sleep, I’m
sure he’s tired; I’ll leave him a bowl for when he wakes up.” Says Stella
“How could he be tired, he doesn’t do
anything all day.” Says Stacy
“You know it hurts him just to move
around; I’m sure it’s exhausting.” Says Stella
“He would have to move around in the
first place to get exhausted.” Jokes Stacy
“He does more than you give him credit
for; it takes a lot of work to keep things together, even if he just puts the
paperwork in order, that’s still something important that he does.” Says Stella
“I’m just giving him a hard time.” Says
Stacy
The girls finish eating and Stella
starts to clean up. Stacy sits preoccupied, with a blank stare, still too
scared of her own mind to start making sense of the day.
Stella looks at her sister confusedly,
“Are you sure you are all right? You seem preoccupied.” She asks
“Yeah…” Says Stacy “Just all of the new
school things; I’m just intimidated, uncomfortable with change and all.” She
says
“Well, it is an intimidating school, one
of the best around. We’re lucky grandpa was nice enough to send us there. We
have to do him right and make the most of the opportunity we have been given.”
Says Stella, smiling
“Carpe Diem, or something like that.”
Says Stacy, half heartedly
“That’s right. Speaking of seizing the
day, I’m going to get started on my homework; I have to stay even later after
school tomorrow, we’ve got to assign jobs and schedule everything for the
coming month, all of the sports and fundraisers and stuff. I’ll probably get
something stupid like ticket handler, but it’s just the first rung on the
ladder.” Jokes Stella
“I’m sure it will be hell trying to
compete with all of the overachievers at school for the important jobs. Good
luck.” Says Stacy
“Well, I’m just going to try to let my
dedication and my hard work do all the convincing.” Says Stella
“They say actions speak louder than
words, which is the honest truth, but I’m pretty sure playing politics is the
furthest thing from the honest truth there is.” Says Stacy
“I’m just hoping for the best. What can
I say, I’m an optimist.” Says Stella, smiling
Stacy chuckles softly “Optimism is the
juice of the fruit of the fantasy tree.”
“And stoicism is the juice from the
realism tree. Even if I don’t end up with some high and mighty title, I would
argue I have no real reason not to be optimistic about at least amounting to
something.” Retorts Stella
“And defeatism is the juice of the
pessimism tree. You’re already drinking that juice, Stella, what happened to
the optimism?” Stacy jokes
“It was a tactical retreat. My
optimism, albeit less headstrong, is stronger because of it.” Says Stella
“Still the tactician in the war of
attrition, I see.” Says Stacy
“Hope is the arsenic to the cynic. I’ll
gladly wage noble war against your knights of negativity, day or night,
whatever the weather.” Says Stella
“So I have been vanquished and my
knights hang their heads as they trot back to the woods of woe.” Says Stacy
“Good. I’m sure you have some homework
to do, so you should try to do that. No point in wasting time.” Says Stella
“It’s not due for a couple days though.
Why do today what I can put off till tomorrow?” says Stacy
Stella rolls her eyes “I’m not even
going to bother to correct you.” She says dryly
“It’s an Aaron Burr quote, but I don’t
expect you to be versed in the musings of intellectuals.” Says Stacy smugly
“You looked that quote up hoping
somebody famous said it, didn’t you?” asked Stella
“You know me too well. I’ll gladly put
forth the effort to do something if it helps me refrain from putting forth an
effort later. The computer at school did all the work anyways; I just had to
type it into the internet search bar.” Says Stacy
“It seems like you just contradicted
yourself.” Says Stella, entertained
“Well, you see, it comes down to
economics, and in this case the profit is the doing nothing and the doing
something is the expense. It has evolved beyond a simple principle and has
blossomed into a science.” Says Stacy, feigning airs
“You could teach a master class on
laziness. I’m going to be diligent, but I’ll leave you to your noble calling of
philosophy.” Says Stella, unenthused
“It is a wise man who lets his ox pull
his plow and his hens lay him eggs, it is a fool who expects his hens to pull
his plow and his ox to lay his eggs.” Says Stacy
“I think I gave you too much credit
calling you a philosopher. You really let that go to your head.” Says Stella
“I take what I can get. Opportunism has
guided the course of history far more than due diligence and thoughtfulness.”
Says Stacy
“I’m going to take the opportunity to
get to work; talking to you feels like the opposite of studying sometimes.”
Says Stella, tired of her sister’s antics
“There are those who follow and those
who lead. Why be a follower when you can lead?” says Stacy pompously
“You’d have to be a much better talker
to get people to follow you as you march into the sea of arrogance and swim
towards the ocean of nonsense.” Says Stella
“The water’s warm, would you care to
join me?” asks Stacy
“Antifreeze is sweet, would you care to
drink it?” jokes Stella, serious and sarcastic at the same time
Stacy grabs her heart and wails
facetiously as if in pain “Oh no, the swordfish of seriousness has stabbed me
right through the heart; who would have thought such a frightful creature would
be so far from its home in the sea of sadness to come and murder me in my
blissful paradise.” She says
“If ignorance is bliss you must be in
heaven right now.” Says Stella
“Aren’t you jealous?” says Stacy, smiling
“Well, no, that also means you are
dead.” Says Stella
Stacy’s body is overcome by a flash of
fear and she sits paralyzed and wide eyes.
“Wow, did my words finally strike a
nerve?” says Stella proudly
Stacy laughs nervously “Tis but a
scratch.” She jokes, attempting to retain her playful confidence
“Well, I hope it is enough to teach you
your lesson.” Says Stella as she walks away up the stairs
Stacy sits at the table still staring
blankly. She fights off the introspection, trying to forget. She sighs and
shakes her head like a dog shedding water.
Stacy goes upstairs and joins her
sister in their room. The thick yellow light pours out of the celling lamp and
blankets the cozy room. Stella had already unpacked her things and is doing
math at her desk. “How are you going to do the math we haven’t even learned
yet?” asks Stacy
“Well, you see, I’ll let you in on a
little secret. There is this magical thing called a textbook, and when you read
it, it tells you what you should do. It’s amazing.” Says Stella sarcastically
as she goes back to diligently studying. Stacy falls down on her bed and stares
at the celling for a while. She eventually sits up and grabs a novel off of the
shelf beside her bed and begins to read.
Stella fills her mind with knowledge
while Stacy tries to escape the knowledge that haunts her. The room is quiet as
time slowly meanders by. Stella closes her book. “I’m going to take a bath.”
She says, looking at her sister “Of course I tell you about the magic of books
and you go pick up a book that is literally about magic. Sadly that is not ironic
at all.” She jokes as she exits the room.
Stella returns and Stacy is still
reading her book. “You really like that book, eh?” she asks.
“I don’t know”, says Stacy, “Do you
believe in this sort of stuff?” she asks
“Do I believe in wizards and dragons and
fairies and elves?” asks Stella sarcastically “You really are just a child,
aren’t you?”
“I’m just getting lost in the story is
all.” Says Stacy, defensively, brushing off the question
“Maybe you if you actually tried you
would get as wrapped up in the schoolwork. Fantasies about things like, I don’t
know, you’re future, for once.” Says Stella
“Fine.” Says Stacy “I’ll go fill out my
name and write down what I enjoy about school and what I wish to learn from
class on those silly introductory sheets.”
“It really shouldn’t be hard to write
Stacy, nothing, and nothing on a few sheets of paper.” Says Stella
“You know the first rule of
underachieving is to make it look like you are trying. People don’t pity you if
it doesn’t look like you’re struggling despite your best efforts.” Says Stacy
“That’s funny because the first rule of
achieving is even simpler, it’s just called trying.” Says Stella
“We’re not so different, you and I.”
jokes Stacy as she unpacks her things onto her desk and pulls out a few pieces
of paper.
Stella notices that Stacy’s ring has
shifted to a bold red color. “Jeez, Stacy, did my jokes really make you that
mad?”
“What? No. What do you mean ‘that
mad’?” asks Stacy
“Well, it’s just that your mood ring is
noticeably red right now. Pinkish, but red.” Says Stella
Stacy looks down at her ring, having
almost forgotten about it.
She laughs nervously “I wouldn’t worry
about it; it’s not like a ring can really tell how you feel. I’m not mad
though, really.”
“Ok.” Says Stella as she lies down and
starts to read. Being reminded of the ring causes the memories of the dog to
come rushing back. The image of Mr. Dog becomes vivid in her mind, standing
there and panting like any other ordinary dog.
“Are you really going to eat me?”
she thinks to herself.
“Tomorrow night. At this rate anyways.” Says the voice of the dog
“What do you want me to do?” she thinks
“You know what to do.”
Says the dog
Stacy is paralyzed by fear. Tears begin
to well up in her eyes.
“You have been sitting there doing nothing.”
Says Stella “What could be so hard about your introduction papers?” asks Stella
as she walks over to Stacy
Tears roll down Stacy’s face and drip
down onto the paper, Stacy still motionless.
“What is wrong Stacy, why are you
crying?” asks Stella, confused, genuinely concerned
“Why do I care about the papers, I am
going to die tomorrow.” Says Stacy, choking on the tears she tries to hold
back.
“What are you talking about?” ask
Stella, even more concerned and more confused
“I know this will sound crazy, but I
didn’t get this ring from a toy store. A weird talking dog came up to me at the
park and gave me this ring; he said if it turns black he is going to eat me.”
“I was very concerned but now I am
equally confused.” Says Stella, perplexed “That is why you are crying?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything; I
don’t care if you don’t believe me. I can’t take the ring off and I can’t
escape this fate.”
“Why is he going to eat you?” says
Stella, unsure of what to say to a person in this state
“I didn’t believe him; I thought I was
losing my mind and it was just a silly joke. He told us he wanted us to do good
and fight evil so he let us wish for magic powers. He said he really only did
it because he wants to eat children but didn’t want to eat innocent children,
so he wants us to break our promise.” Says Stacy
“Why don’t you just do what he asked?” Asks
Stella, slowly, genuinely confused and concerned for the sanity of her sister,
unsure of what to say at a time like this
“I don’t know what he wants me to do.”
Says Stacy, desperate
“What about your magical powers? What
power did he give you.” says Stella cautious about how to continue the
conversation
“I asked for omniscience, but I don’t
know how I can use it to do what he asked.” Says Stacy, upset with herself
“So you know everything?” asks Stella
even more confused
“I only know the things that are
relevant to doing good and fighting evil. When I try to think of what to do it
is either all of the bad things happening in the world vividly rushing through
my mind or it is the god damn dog telling me “I know what to do.” when I don’t
have a fucking clue.” Says Stacy now furious and dolorous
“I’m sure it will be ok. You clearly
know what to do; you just have to think of what that is.” Says Stella,
cautiously
“I know what I have to do; it is
literally to do good and fight evil, I just don’t know how to do it.” Says Stacy
“I don’t want to upset you anymore, so
I guess I have to believe you, as much as it goes against my common sense.”
Says Stella, profoundly confused
“It doesn’t matter.” Says Stacy,
hopelessly
“I’m sure you will figure it out. I
believe in you.” Says Stella
Stacy stands up with angry tears in her
eyes, finally lifting her eyes off of the blank paper on the desk. “Well if I
don’t, I’ll be dead tomorrow night!” she shouts
“Don’t say things like that. Be
optimistic; you are a good person so it shouldn’t be hard for you to do good, I
don’t know about fighting evil, but you’re halfway there at least.” Says Stella
reassuringly
“I used my magic to help a woman ensure
that her husband stayed out of jail in order to keep his job and this wasn’t
enough. I don’t know what I am expected to do. I really tried. It wasn’t
enough!” Says Stacy
“You are smart, you will figure it out.
Everything will be ok.” Says Stella, hugging her sister
Stacy breaks down, squeezing her sister
and starts sobbing “I don’t want to die.” She says
“You’re not going to die.” Says Stella
“I’m going to die!” Shouts Stacy,
authoritatively
“You’re not going to die.” Says Stella
again
The embrace lasts for a long time;
Stacy eventually stops crying and sits down on her bed, still distraught, with
her thought capacity overpowered by sheer emotions. She sits with a shocked and
bewildered look on her face, eyes glazed.
Stella sits beside her, “You can’t give
up. You are still alive, that means you’re not dead yet. The best part about
the future is that you can change it.”
“I won’t give up.” Stacy says, wiping
the tears from her eyes “It’s not out of optimism, it’s out of arrogance. I am
just unwilling to accept the truth so I choose to be incredulous to it.
Omniscience be damned.” Says Stacy, combatively aggressive
“The future is not the truth until it
happens. Until it happens it is up to you to determine what the truth is.” Says
Stella
“If I die, please don’t tell anybody
about this. I don’t want people to know how stupid I am.” Says Stacy
“You are not stupid; you would be
stupid if you actually believed the dog was magical rather than some
hallucination in the first place. You are not going to die either; I know this
for a fact.” Says Stella, somewhat dismissive, reassuringly, still very
concerned
“Thanks.” Says Stacy allowing herself
to chuckle slightly at irony of the first part of her sister’s statement
“Try to get some sleep, ok? You don’t
want to be too tired to do good things tomorrow, not when it counts.” Says
Stella
“I’ll try. Thank you for believing me.
I might already be dead if you hadn’t.” says Stacy
“Don’t say things like that. Even if
nobody believes you or believes in you, you have to believe in what you know,
and believe in yourself.” Says Stella, sincerely, too concerned to try to
reason with Stacy
“I’ll try to muster the confidence of cannon
fodder being sent to war. Optimism in the face of certain death has nice
feeling to it, stupid, but nice.” Says Stacy, smiling
“You know some of those boys became war
heroes. The ones who chose to lay down and die did exactly that, but those who
had the will to persevere through seemingly impossible obstacles and the faith
it takes to never give up, those were the ones who became heroes.” Says Stella
“I’m no hero.” Says Stacy, dismissively
“You will be tomorrow.” Stays Stella,
smiling
Stacy laughs, and smiles softly as she
lies back on her bed
“Get some sleep. Tomorrow is full of
opportunities.” Says Stella as she turns out the lights as the girls head off to
sleep. Stacy cradled by her fantasies of wartime grandeur.
Stella walks down the stairs, Stacy
cooking breakfast and whistling merrily.
“You’re up early.” Says Stella, yawning
“Carpe Diem.” Says Stacy as she laughs
“I hope you’re hungry.”
“Yeah. It smells good.” Says Stella
“Are you feeling all right?”
“Dandy as can be.” Says Stacy
“You were acting crazy last night.”
Says Stella “Like really crazy.”
“I’m sorry. Don’t worry about me. It
must have been some kind of nightmare or something, thanks for being there for
me.” Says Stacy
“A nightmare, eh?” says Stella “When
you were wide awake...”
“The paperwork must have had me nodding
off.” Says Stacy “I guess my daydreams turned into nightmares somehow.”
“Ok.” Says Stella “You had me really
worried. You reminded me of mom…” says Stella
“Oh… sorry…” says Stacy with a soft
sadness in her voice
“But your good now, right?” asks Stella
“As good as your grades and your
cooking.” Says Stacy, with a genuine smile
“Now I have to guess your opinion of my
cooking.” Jokes Stella
“It’s wonderful, every time. Hopefully
mine is at least edible. I’ve got to practice more.” Says Stacy as she serves a
plate of eggs to her sister sitting at the table who begins to eat
“It’s good. The eggs are cooked just
right. I’m actually impressed; you’re usually a bit more careless.” Say Stella
“I’m trying to work on that. Practice
makes perfect.” Says Stacy
“Seriously, what’s up with this cutesy,
nice, happy Stacy this morning?” asks Stella
“Optimism is the deadliest weapon a
soldier can carry.” Says Stacy
Stella looks at her sister, frowning
“You’re scaring me again.”
Stacy laughs, “It’s just a figure of
speech. Don’t think about it too much.” She says
“I’ll try not to. I’m still concerned
about what happened last night, but I don’t want to be, so I’ll try not to.”
Says Stella
“I think it was just me being so
gullible to believe my daydreams that much. Dreams seem real sometimes you
know.” Says Stacy, brushing it off
“I don’t know. On one hand you often
refuse to believe people when they tell you facts, but on the other hand your
dreams come from your brain and you put as much faith in your own ideas as a
prophet does in God.” Says Stella
“It doesn’t hurt to believe in oneself
sometimes.” Says Stacy
“There’s a difference between
self-confidence and a god complex.” says Stella
“Squares and rectangles.” Says Stacy,
nonchalantly
“In that allegory you tend to be quite
rectangular.” Says Stella
“In that allegory they both have four
walls, and I simply have more room in mine.” Says Stacy
“Nobody said anything about the height
of the rectangle. This is a 3d space, you know.” Jokes Stella
“Hurry up and finish eating; we don’t
want to be late for school.” Says Stacy
“Now I must be losing my mind.” says
Stella “I never thought I would hear you say that.”
“We mustn’t squander such a wonderful
opportunity.” Says Stacy, smiling
“Yep. I’m definitely losing my mind.”
Jokes Stella, half serious
Stacy grabs a plate and eats quickly.
She pours herself some milk, dinks it quickly and pours herself another glass.
“It’s good to know some things never
change.” Says Stella
“Of course not.” Says Stacy,
reassuringly, finishing her second glass
The girls walk towards the door. Stacy rubs
her father’s shoulder to wake him still sleeping on the couch.
“Dad, I left you a plate of eggs. Try
to eat it, ok?” says Stacy
“Thank god. Bacon too?” He asks,
rubbing his neck.
“Unfortunately no, I’m sorry, we didn’t
have any bacon; that’s what happens when Stella does the shopping. We’re
heading off to school. Don’t die, ok?” says Stacy
“You girls have fun. I’ll be fighting
off the tremens like a Green Beret killing Nazis.” Says her Dad
“I’m glad you still have some fight
left in you, soldier.” Says Stacy
“Ma’am, yes Ma’am. I’m not fighting for
my survival. I’m fighting for my family back home.” Says her Dad
“Hooah, give em hell, soldier.” Says
Stacy, as she salutes him playfully
“We’ve got to go, Stacy. Bye, dad.”
Says Stella,
“Bye, Stella.” Says her dad
The girls head out the door and walk to
school, the beautiful weather warm, delightful and charming like a psychopath
“Promise me you will be ok today; no
daydreaming in school.” Says Stella as they approach the gates
“There will be nothing but devotion to
my studies and sheer determination to succeed in every way.” Says Stacy
“Are you are mocking me?” ask Stella,
smirking
“It’s never a bad idea to try and
emulate greatness.” Says Stacy, smiling
“You’re definitely mocking me.” Says
Stella with a playful grimace, “I’m going to class; try to keep your head on
your shoulders today.”
“Where else could it possibly be?”
jokes Stacy, cutely
“If you don’t know, I don’t want to
tell you, and you don’t want to know.” Says Stella, growing tired of her
sisters newfound cheeriness
“I’ll take your word for it. I’ll see
you later.” Says Stacy as she winks at her sister, walking away
“This is going to kill me if she keeps this up.” Mumbles Stella
under her breath
Stacy enters her class, her friends
already there, Jenna smiles and Ophelia waves at her.
“I’m still reeling from yesterday.”
Says Ophelia
“Yeah, it was awesome. Don’t let it
distract you from school though.” Says Stacy, eerily wholesome
Ophelia rolls her eyes “Wow, did your
sister scold you last night about your schoolwork?”
“Does the pope shit in the woods?” asks
Stacy, in jest
“What? Gross.” Says Ophelia as the
teacher begins to talk.
Classes pass by in the usual monotone,
Stacy unusually diligent. It becomes lunchtime; the girls get their lunch and sat
at a table outside.
“Wow, Stacy. Your sister must have torn
you a new one for you to be so serious today. It was so weird.” Says Ophelia
“You’re going to tease Stacy because
she was actually doing what she was supposed to?” asks Jenna
“No, Jenna. That is what you are
supposed to be doing. Stacy is supposed to be silly, lighthearted, and
carefree.” Says Ophelia
“Stacy is doing what we are all
supposed to be doing. I’m proud of her. I’m glad her sister was able to get her
into shape somehow; now Stella just has to fix you somehow.” Jokes Jenna,
glaring teasingly at Ophelia
“I wouldn’t expect the impossible; my
sister may be capable but she is not inhuman.” Teases Stacy
“Why don’t you use your magic to help
me, if I need to be helped so much, Jenna?” says Ophelia
“What are you talking about? You are
saying silly things that don’t make any sense.” Says Jenna blatantly paranoid,
through her teeth
“Come on Jenna, it’s just us. We can
talk about that stuff.” Says Ophelia
“If anyone notices I’m just going to
say you are crazy. Isn’t it important to hide our identities?” asks Jenna,
still uncomfortable with her fate
“I guess. But anyways, my ring isn’t
glowing anymore, it’s still pretty white but I like when it glows.” Says
Ophelia
“Mine is still white and we should keep
that sort of thing to a minimum. Don’t you think, Stacy?”
Stacy looks at her ring, now a deep red
color.
“We definitely need to do more of that
stuff. You know what happens if we don’t.” says Stacy
“At least Stacy isn’t willing to do the
bare minimum to get by. She feels the calling.” Says Ophelia
“Yeah, about that, I’m definitely just
trying to get by to be honest. My ring is pretty red right now.” Says Stacy
“Wow. That looks pretty bad. Well, it
looks like we definitely have to go out and try to help the world again today.”
Says Ophelia, palpably delighted with her newfound calling, oblivious to any
danger
“Yes. 100%. We must do something.” Says
Stacy, stiffly
“I am actually really concerned for you
Stacy, considering what the dog said and all, but I really don’t know what
exactly we are supposed to do.” Says Jenna
“Well, since Stacy can use her powers
without transforming, I’m expecting you to think of something awesome Stacy,
seeing how you have magical thinking powers and whatnot.” Says Ophelia, flippantly
confident in Stacy’s magic
“Yeah,” says Stacy nervously “Use my
powers, ok; I’ll definitely work on that.”
“We’ve got plenty of time; just mull it
over during club time. I’m sure you will think of something great.” Says
Ophelia, encouragingly
“Will do.” Says Stacy, distantly
“Do you want my milk Stacy?” asks
Ophelia
“Always.” Says Stacy
“You’re lucky I’m ok with that.” Says
Ophelia as she start to unbutton her shirt “Most people wouldn’t want to nurse
their little kitten in public, but I love you.”
Stacy puts her hand on Ophelia’s chest.
“No. Please stop.” Says Stacy, embarrassed
“I thought you were thirsty?” teases
Ophelia, cutely, innocently
“Just give her your milk.” Says Jenna,
sternly
“But that’s what I was going to do.”
Says Ophelia, still innocent
Jenna sighs and takes Ophelia’s milk
and gives it to Stacy
“Drink it. We have to go to the club
soon.” Says Jenna
Stacy drinks the milk
“But breast is best, Jenna.” Says
Ophelia
“Stop. It’s just weird now.” Says Jenna
“It was weird when it started.” Says
Stacy, finishing the milk
“I guess you two aren’t old enough to
truly understand love.” Says Ophelia
“Save it for when you’re in costume.”
Says Stacy
“You know it was funny.” Says Ophelia,
grinning cheekily
“Maybe a little bit.” Says Jenna,
chuckling softly
“I’ll give you credit for trying.
That’s it.” Says Stacy, as the girls head off to their club
The girls enter the classroom being
used as the club room, the bird is silent, a few groups of girls are chatting
and the three take seats near the back. Aurelia takes to the front of the room
as the last of the girls file in.
“First of all, I would like to welcome
all of you to the Animal Club, you made a wonderful choice. Now that we are all
here, I would like to go around the room and have everybody introduce
themselves.” Says Aurelia, warmly delightful, her assistant from before still
looking disinterested, sitting on the teachers desk beside her
The girls around the room introduce
themselves, saying what pets they owned and what their favorite animal was. The
three are the last to introduce themselves.
“My name is Stacy…” She says, shifting
her eyes nervously, feeling out of place “ …and I like animals.”
“My name is Jenna.” She says “And I
also like animals.” She says smiling
“My name is Ophelia” she says with
noble airs “and I love animals.”
“That is wonderful.” says Aurelia “My
name is Aurelia, I have a cat named Mittens, I look after the bird over there,
her name is Sunshine, and I am the upperclassman in charge of this club.”
“My name is Sloan” says her assistant
“I am the assailant in charge here, and I also
like animals.” she says vapidly
“I’ve explained what we do to everybody
when we joined, but I’ll hand out a paper that explains some of our events and
whatnot.” Says Aurelia
The papers are handed around that list
the expected things like helping at the animal shelter and raising money for
endangered species.
“This is a school club so we should try
to learn something; there are biology textbooks over there and plenty of stuff
to learn about animals. We also have a bunch of magazines in that box over
there; try to enjoy yourselves, it’s the first day so I don’t expect much, but
soon we will be up and running at full force, making the world a better place.
I’m sure we will have a wonderful year together!” Concludes Aurelia
Some of the girls get up and pick
through the magazines, some just chatting. Sloan sits down and takes out her
homework. Ophelia walks over to the magazines, picks one out about endangered
species and returns to her friends.
The girls tend to stick with their
groups of friends as the time passed, Ophelia absorbed in the pictures of the
animals, Jenna reading a biology textbook. Stacy slouched back in the chair
with her hands behind her head and her eyes closed.
Aurelia walks over to the girls “You
had a long day, huh, Stacy?” she asks
Stacy cracks her eyes open and laughs,
“Oh, I’m just thinking about the animals.”
“You didn’t seem too enthusiastic in
your introduction; you don’t have any pets or anything?” asks Aurelia
“No, my dad, but I guess that doesn’t
count.” Says Stacy
Aurelia laughs “You sounded like you
liked animals about as much as Sloan; that kind of worries me. I hope you will
put some effort into this club. We do great things, you know; if you get into
the spirit, I’m sure you will find them to be enjoyable.” Says Aurelia
“Don’t worry about me; I’ll definitely
try to help. If Sloan doesn’t like animals why is she here?” Says Stacy,
nonchalantly
“She’s my friend and I guess that was
enough of a reason for her; she is about that enthusiastic about everything
though, so don’t think she’s bored to death just by being here, at least not
any more than usual.” Says Aurelia, Stacy laughs, “Why did you join?”
“Well, Jenna and I have got this playful
little animal we have to look after; her name is Ophelia, sitting right over there,
actually. I’m just hoping I can learn some real skills and become a better
handler; she’s not very tame, but she’s lovable.” Jokes Stacy, Ophelia sticks
her tongue out at Stacy
“That’s cute.” Says Aurelia
“To be honest, I was thinking maybe the
club could help me get over my fear of dogs.” Says Stacy
“That’s noble to try and conquer your
fears. I don’t know if the strays are the best approach, some of them aren’t
very friendly, but I’m sure plenty of them will warm up to you.” Says Aurelia
“Don’t worry Stacy, I’ll teach you how
to love dogs, you just have to open your heart and let them in.” Says Ophelia
“Yeah.” Says Stacy, glowering, “I’ll
try that next time.”
“Even if Stacy can’t handle the animals
very well, I’m sure we can help raise money.” Says Jenna, encouragingly
“That would be very helpful, the food
and vaccinations can help even more than playing with the animals. Some people
forget that the animals would be sick and starving if people didn’t help them.”
Says Aurelia
“Being able to help the sick and hungry
dogs would really make me happy; I don’t want living creatures to suffer.” Says
Jenna
Aurelia smiles, “That’s wonderful, I’m
grateful that you have joined us. I’m going to catch up with the other members;
it was nice to talk though.” She says as she walks away
“So were you napping or did you
actually think up a plan, Stacy?” says Ophelia
“I have an idea.” says Stacy, smiling
“Good. Let’s hear it.” Says Ophelia
excitedly
“This is not the time for that.” Says
Jenna, quietly with a tone of nervous seriousness
“True. All things come in due time.” Says
Stacy, as she smiles and goes back to her original position, closing her eyes
“Fine.” Says Ophelia, impatiently
The club time carries on, naps, banter,
and homework all around; it finally concludes and Aurelia bids them adieu. The
girls shuffle out of the school and into the sunshine of the city streets.
“So Stacy, what’s the plan?” Asks Jenna
“There is this Chinese restaurant a few
blocks down from here. If my premonition is right, they are butchering dogs and
serving it to people saying it’s just beef.” Says Stacy as the girls walk down
the street away from the school
“That is terrible.” Says Ophelia
“That’s pretty common in Asian
countries.” Says Jenna
“Still, it’s illegal here. I also think
if we could stop them, we might get some bonus from Mr. Dog, seeing how he is a
dog and all.” Says Stacy
“How exactly are you going to stop
them, it’s not like we can really do anything.” Says Jenn
“That’s where my plan comes into play.
I will go in and say I’m trying to do a review for my Food Service section of
the school paper, and just want to take some pictures of the staff and ask them
a few questions. I’ll tell them that it’s nothing but good publicity, and when
I’m back there, I’ll record what evidence of their crimes I can find and then
give it to the news. It will be big news for sure. Thankfully my cellphone can
record audio.” Says Stacy
“That’s pretty ambitious. You expect it
to go off without a hitch?” says Jenna
“That’s where you two come in; just use
your powers and stuff to help things run according to plan.” Says Stacy
“You expect us to go with you dressed
up in costume? A food journalist and two witches? What is the story.” says
Jenna
“You two are my co-writers who just
came back from some costume party or something, sounds perfectly normal.” Says
Stacy
“I’ll do whatever it takes to save
those innocent dogs. You can count on me Stacy!” says Ophelia, clearly upset by
the revelation that people eat dogs
“I am impressed you came up with this
by yourself Stacy; let’s hope that magic of yours is finally paying off.” Says
Jenna
“Don’t worry, it’s a sure thing. Today,
we become heroes.” Says Stacy
“We are defenders of dogs and crusaders
against cruelty!” Says Ophelia
“That’s the spirit.” Says Stacy
The girls continue walking through the
city and eventually come into view of an ordinary looking restaurant situated
on the corner, the small parking lot empty save for a few cars. The sign says
“Mr. Chang’s Gourmet Chinese Restaurant”
“We’re almost there, go into that alley
and transform.” Says Stacy, pointing down a small dead-end alley between
nameless buildings filled with litter, a single dumpster and bags of garbage, a
couple of windowless doors on either side.
“Nobody will see you.”
“You really think this is necessary?”
asks Jenna
“It’s just so things go off without a
hitch; it might come in handy, so there’s not point not to.” Says Stacy
“Come on Jenna, you can stand behind
that dumpster. I can’t believe you’re still embarrassed about this.” Says
Ophelia
“Fine.” Says Jenna, reluctantly as the
girls head into the ally, after a faint glow returning in the same outfits as
yesterday.
“You look nice.” Chuckles Stacy
“Don’t give me that.” Says Raven,
frowning
“Aren’t you going to try to transform
Stacy?” asks Blaze
“You couldn’t pay me.” Says Stacy
“Your loss.” Says Blaze, pitying Stacy
“Stick to the plan. Let me do the
talking.” Says Stacy, the girls approach the restaurant and enter. A small
number of people are eating; the dinner rush has yet to begin, so the building is
practically empty. The girls approach the counter where a middle aged Asian man
smiled to greet them.
“How can I help you today?” He asks
“Well, Mr. Chang, you see, I am a
journalist that writes about the food industry for my school paper. I have
heard excellent things about your restaurant and was wondering if I could write
a review about it.” Says Stacy, confidently
“Oh yes, sure, eat. It is very good.”
He says
“That’s not it exactly. I am more
interested in the people behind the restaurant. I was hoping I could interview
your head chef; ask him about his inspirations and his training. That is what
the people want to read about. ” Says Stacy
“Oh.” Says the man, pausing for a
second. “I am very sorry. He is very busy right now. He must prepare for the
dinner rush and has no time for an interview like that. He is very well trained
and inspired by China, please, instead eat and review the food. It is very
good.” Says the man
“A food review offer nothing new, the
people want the story. An interview would let them know the true authenticity
of a fine establishment like this.” Says Stacy, refusing to back down
“Yeah, wouldn’t you love some great publicity?” asks Blaze
playfully as she points her scepter at the man and winks at him, smiling and
posing cutely
“Umm…” the man says “Why are you two
dressed like that. I don’t understand.” He says
“It is just a costume!” says Raven,
embarrassed “We were at a theme party; we didn’t have time to change.”
“Their enthusiasm for culture has
spilled over into their daily lives but I assure you they are very good
writers. Many of their fans hold them in higher regards than other critics
simply because of the way they dress. It’s just good publicity, it reaches out
to the youth.” Says Stacy,
“Oh yes, good publicity. I see.” Says
the man, shifting his eyes. “I suppose I can let you talk to the chef for a
little bit. Not too many questions though, he is busy.” Says Chang
He takes the girls back into the kitchen;
two commonplace men are busy preparing food in a common place kitchen.
“Dongbin, these girls are here to interview you about your work. Make sure to
tell them how great everything is.” Says Chang, sternly
“What do you want to know?” says
Dongbin with fairly thick accent
“I will record this for reference
later.” Says Stacy as she pulls out her phone and begins recording “How long
have you worked here, and do you enjoy your job?”
“I have worked here for seven years; I
do enjoy my job very much.” He says, happily
“Where did you train to become such a
distinguished chef?” asks Stacy
“I rose through the ranks of various
Chinese restaurants before finally reaching the position of head chef here.”
“What would you say your major
influences are? This restaurant is not your typical Chinese restaurant by any
means.” Asks Stacy
“Well, clearly China and Chinese
culture, and also my mother taught me many important lessons from a young age
about cooking.”
“There are rumors that you serve dog
meat here? Are they true?” asks Stacy, boldly
“What?” says Dongbin, flustered “I
don’t know about that.” He looks at his boss
His Boss looks at him “No. We don’t.
The rumors are false, spread by jealous competitors.” Says Chang, sternly.
Muffled barking of dogs could be heard from behind a door in the back of the
kitchen.
“I can hear the dogs barking back
there. Are you telling me that you don’t butcher and eat those dogs?” asks
Stacy seriously as she walks over to the door hiding the dogs, still recording
with her phone.
“This interview is over.” Says the
second chef, as he pulls out a handgun and points it at Stacy “Now give me your
phone. You made a very bad decision to come here today. I will not allow my
business partner to have his reputation questioned like that.”
“Ok. Stacy. Give him your phone. This
was a bad idea. We are very sorry.” Says Jenna, her voice trembling and scared
“The people deserve the truth!” says
Stacy
“Oh the little girl wants to play
games? I will play along.” Says Chang, menacingly as he approaches Stacy from
across the room
“Help, do something!” says Stacy
“Love! Love! Love! Love!” says Blaze,
swinging her scepter around with both hands, her eyes closed, scared but driven
by her desire to save the dogs
“Yes. I do love little schoolgirls. I
will have lots of fun with you.” Says Chang, getting closer
“Damn it, Blaze, lift your skirt up!”
shouts Stacy
“What? No! What is wrong with you!” replies
Blaze
“Fuck it! Lift up her skirt Raven!”
says Stacy
“I would like to see that very much.”
Says the gunman, smiling pervertedly
“Ok. Please don’t hurt us!” says Raven
as she pulls up Blaze’s skirt. Blaze shrieks out of embarrassment. The gunman
looks over at the two cowering in a corner, smiling the same smile. In the
moment that the man was distracted, Stacy grabs a large knife from the table
and throws it across the island at the gunman standing directly across from
her, striking him in his neck. He shouts in agony.
“What the fuck, Stacy?!?” shrieks Raven
“Oh this bitch wants to play with
knives? I like a feisty girl!” says Chang, grabbing a knife, suddenly maddened
by the situation, his lust overpowering his grasp on reality. He continues to
encroach. The gunman holding the knife in his neck, turns to Stacy and pulls
the knife out of his neck. A large stream of blood shoots across the table in
tandem with his racing heartbeat, he gasps and falls to his knees, holding
himself up with the table, he points the gun at Stacy and shoots; the power of
the gun causes it to fly from his hand. The bullet rattles off some kitchenware
and he collapses, groaning.
“Holy shit!” screams Blaze, both of the
girls frozen with fear with tears in their eyes
“Ungrateful idiot, how could he try to
shoot my entertainment?” Says Chang, unfazed by the situation, now standing
only a yard from Stacy walking towards her grinning with fire in his eyes,
Stacy grabs a basket from the deep fryer filled with battered chicken and
throws it at Chang. He screams in agony, dropping the knife, now clutching his
face. Stacy swiftly kicks him in the groin and he collapses. She steps on his throat
and begins to stomp on his genitals angrily. She pauses for a moment and looks
at the head chef who is motionless and staring in awe. “Don’t you dare fucking
move, Dongbin!”
“You dog eating, wife beating piece of
shit! You cheat on your wife, you cheat your employees, and you cheat on your
taxes!” shouts Stacy, continuing to stomp on his groin repeatedly and choke him
with her foot. “On top of all of this you try to rape me! Now I have to teach
you some manners!” she continues
The two girls stand silently and stare
in shock as Stacy grabs a long metal skewer and a meat tenderizer from the
counter. She stoops down and puts the skewer into the nose of the nearly
unconscious man and strikes it violently with the hammer, driving it into his
skull a few inches. She pulls the skewer out and hocks up some phlegm and spits
on the man’s face. She drops the items on the floor and looks at the head chef,
staring wide eyed and also paralyzed by fear.
“I did not do anything! Please don’t
hurt me!” shouts Dongbin, tears welling up in his eyes, equally as scared as
the girls
“Well then, let’s keep it that way.”
Says Stacy, breathing heavily as she looks him in the eyes and smiles
Her friends stare at her in utter
disbelief with wide eyes, their jaws agape, trembling with tears slowly rolling
down their faces.
“What did you just do?” asks Raven,
pleading, crying in shocked disbelief
“It’s not the time for questions. We
have to get out of here!” shouts Stacy, commandingly, grabbing her friends and
pulling them towards the door.
“What about the dogs?” asks Blaze
through here tears
“Forget about the dogs. Let the cops
handle that. We have to go!” says Stacy as the three walk briskly out of the
kitchen door into the dining area. Everyone in the dining hall staring at them,
the three avoiding eye contact with everyone, Stacy’s eyes directly ahead and
the two other’s staring at the ground. The three exit into the still empty
parking lot.
“You two get out of here. Transform
back, go home. You weren’t here. You just went to the park.” Says Stacy calmly,
sternly
Blaze begins to break down, tears
streaming down her face “Stacy! You killed two people! You are covered in
blood! Are you fucking crazy?” she screams
“Shut the fuck up! Go change and go
home! You weren’t here! It’s not the time for questions, we have to split up!”
shouts Stacy angrily
“We were here Stacy! We watched you do
those things!” screams Blaze
“I know.” Says Stacy staring Blaze in
the eyes seriously “It is really fucking important that when you change back
you know for damn sure were not with me today. OK? You understand?”
“What is wrong with you?” screams Blaze
once again
“Go!” shouts Stacy, angrily
“Come on Blaze, we have to go. I do
know for damn sure I was not here today. It is time to fucking go, Blaze.”
Raven looks at Stacy, crying silently, in awe, “I will pray for you Stacy.” She
says, softly
“I’m going to need it.” Says Stacy,
smiling boldly
“Goodbye.” Says Raven, softly, staring
Stacy in the eyes for a long moment, still crying. “We have to go.” She says to Blaze, urgent, holding
her hand.
“Before you go I want to thank you. You
two are the only reason I got out of there in one piece.” Says Stacy, warmly
“I don’t understand.” Says Raven
“Look at your rings. They are glowing
just like mine. Even if you don’t know it, I do. You really saved my life.
Thank you, even if this is the end. I want you to know. I love you. Both of
you. You stuck with me to the end, through all of this, and I can never repay
you.” Says Stacy, tears in her eyes, smiling a strong and powerful smile
“I love you too, Stacy. Even after all
of this.” Says Raven, smiling weakly
“I don’t understand anything that is
happening right now!” shouts Blaze, now even more confused
“It doesn’t matter. We have to go.
Goodbye, Stacy.” Says Raven as she leads Blaze away from the Chinese
restaurant.
“Goodbye, Stacy! I love you!” shouts
Blaze in a bewildered tone as they walk away.
Stacy watches them as they walk away,
smiling with tears running down her face.
She starts to walk briskly, taking a
roundabout way back towards her house, walking in the shadows cast by the
buildings. The sidewalks conveniently empty, cars that speed by her seemingly
unconcerned. Pedestrians look at her with a concerned state of shock, most
unwilling to say anything as she walks past them apparently oblivious to their
presence. A woman walking her dog approaches, the dog barks at Stacy.
“Holy Shit. What happened? Are you ok?”
she asks, frightened
“Boo!” says Stacy, wide-eyed with a
frighteningly entertained face
“What the fuck?” asks the woman, even more
scared
Stacy cackles maniacally, with fervent,
seemingly demonic mania
“Jesus
Christ.” cries the ghost-white woman as Stacy walks away still smiling. The
smile fades to a blank expression as she continues; slowly coming to realize
what had happened. The memory of the event racing through her mind, it seems
distant to her as if it were just a movie or a dream. The familiar sights of
her quiet, humble, modest, and aging neighborhood bring back memories of her
life and who she was. Stacy knows herself very well, reflecting upon her past.
Stacy does not recognize the girl from the kitchen today, she knows it couldn’t
possibly be the Stacy that lived here and up grew up playing in these streets.
That is a nice girl, a pleasant and charming girl. Whoever the girl in the
kitchen was, it couldn’t have been Stacy.
Approaching her house as the sun twinkles
in the leaves of the trees; she sees her reflection in the glass door at the
front of her house. The reflection looks back at her, and stares at her with
the same distant sense of disbelief, but Stacy knows that she really was the
one in the kitchen, even if she doesn’t recognize the personality, she knows it
because the white shirt of her uniform is covered in a jet of now dry blood
that had also painted her neck, face, and hair. She can’t believe it, she
doesn’t believe it; this isn’t her. This isn’t Stacy. This is someone else.
She opens the door; her father is snoring
on the couch, the television mumbling. She quietly walks upstairs into the
bathroom and undresses and throws the bloody clothes and her bag into a corner.
She sits in the bathtub, the events of today replaying through her mind, she is
paralyzed by shock.
“Why did this happen?” she asks herself
softly, bewildered, unable to process anything
“You
are becoming a wolf.” Says the voice of the dog
The voice of the dog strikes a deep
fear into her heart. The thing she fears most is her own mind; she stops
thinking, repressing all thought effortlessly, her mind shuts down, she stares
at the floor of the bathtub before closing her eyes, the closing of her eyelids
causing a couple of tears drip down her face. She sighs.
“Stacy, I’m home. Sorry I’m late. You
didn’t eat anything?” says Stella, her voice waking Stacy
“I’m not hungry.” Says Stacy
emotionlessly, still in the bathtub
“That’s fine, hurry up in there. I want
to take a bath too.” Says Stella, Stacy doesn’t respond.
The voice of her sister causing a new
layer of introspection, of realization, for a moment, before the fear once
again paralyzes Stacy; she blacks out her mind again.
“It’s been twenty minutes Stacy. It’s
my turn, come on!’ shouts Stella through the door.
“I’m not coming out.” Says Stacy, still
emotionless
“You know it’s bad for your skin to
stay in the bath for a long time.” Says Stella
“I’m not coming out.” Repeats Stacy
“Then I’m going to drag you out of
there. I’m sure you have homework to do or something.” Says Stella playfully
stern
Stacy is silent. She looks at her
hands. Completely detached from reality, she does not identify this body as herself;
she is unwilling to believe that this body she is looking at is her own. She is
indifferent to this body of a stranger before her eyes.
“You know I don’t want to do this!”
shouts Stella, mildly annoyed by now, Stacy still silent
“Fine! Have it your way. Don’t expect
any mercy from me though.” Shouts Stella, opening the door to the bathroom. “Oh
my god!” she lets out an exasperated scream as she rushes to her sister “You
are bleeding, you need an ambulance!” she cries out in panic, Stacy still
staring at the floor of the bathtub
“It’s not my blood.” Says Stacy quietly,
coldly, motionless
“You must have hit your head, there is
blood all over your face, oh my god; I’m so scared. Let me help you. I’ll call
an ambulance, please tell me you are all right!” pleads Stella, beginning to
cry
“It’s not my blood!” repeats Stacy,
sternly
“What are you talking about? What
happened, why are you covered in blood?” says Stella, now scared for multiple
reasons, the events of the previous night come rushing back through her head
“I killed a man, maybe two. I don’t
know.” Says Stacy, still cold and indifferent
“What?” whispers Stella, her face turns
white
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Says
Stacy
“Oh my god. No. Please no...” whispers
Stella, tears running down her face, stiff from fright
“I’m sorry.” Says Stacy, softly,
reality hitting her slowly
“No.” says Stella, refusing to believe
her sister.
“Yes.” Says Stacy, coldly
“No, you just hurt yourself, you hit
your head; let’s wash off the blood. I’m sure the cut isn’t that bad.
Everything will be ok.” Says Stella, as she turns the bath faucet on and wets a
wash cloth. She starts wiping the blood off her sister. Stacy scoffs. Stella
continues washing her sister until all of the blood is gone.
“See, it’s not so bad. It already
stopped bleeding. I’ve just got to clean you up. You shouldn’t try to scare me
like that.” Says Stella, distant and bewildered
“It’s in your hair too. Let me wash
your hair. You will be ok. See, you are smiling. I knew I could make things
better.” Says Stella
“It’s not my blood.” Says Stacy,
laughing softly through her nose,
“Don’t be silly. It’s all better now.”
Says Stella, comfortingly
“Look at my clothes.” Says Stacy,
Stella looks at her sisters clothes and
notices a remarkable amount of blood on her shirt and compares this to a
striking absence of blood, of wounds, on her sisters chest. The reality of the
situation grows on her and the revelation feels like somebody stabbing her in
the heart. She begins crying again.
“What did you do?” pleads Stella,
giving up on washing her sister
“I told you already.” Says Stacy, still
cold
“Why?” pleads Stella, even more
distraught
“I don’t know.” Says Stacy softly
“God damn it, Stacy! Why would you do
something like that?” shouts Stella, with indignation suddenly added to her
cauldron of emotions as she hugs her sister tightly. “Why? Stacy, why? You are
all I have in this world and you go do something like this! You lose your mind
and now you are murdering people! Why, god damn it, why?”
“I’m not a murderer.” Say Stacy, softly
“I can’t fucking lose you Stacy, not
like this. Not to some stupid fucking sickness that shows up one day and kills
you the next! Why couldn’t you take me instead! I can’t handle seeing you like
this. I want to die, Stacy! I can’t live like this! I can’t be alive and be
reminded every day that I neglected to save my sister’s life. I didn’t get her
help, and the next day it was too late. I am a terrible person and a terrible
sister… ” shouts Stella, bawling, slowly losing strength
“I was shot at and almost raped. What
the fuck did you expect me to do?” says Stacy, now also tearing up
“God damn it Stacy, you are so fucking
crazy. I don’t know what to believe any more. I want to believe you but you are
so fucking crazy.” Says Stella, still crying hopelessly
“I’m not crazy.” Says Stacy, coldly
“God damn it.” Says Stella, squeezing
her sister tightly and crying on her, Stacy sits there for a moment and
collects her thoughts
“Get off of me. I’m going to get
dressed. I’m not dead yet.” Says Stacy
“Why would you get yourself into a situation
like this?” says Stella, refusing to let go
“I told you why.” Says Stacy, coldly,
ashamed of her situation
“What? When?” says Stella
“Last night.” Says Stacy
“Jesus Christ.” Whispers Stella
“You really helped me; I would be dead
right now if it wasn’t for you.” Says Stacy,
“What?” asks Stella, more so confused?
“You taught me something important. You
told me that optimism is the deadliest weapon a soldier can carry.” Says Stacy,
smiling
“I wouldn’t have said that if I knew
you were really going to kill people.” Says Stella, now panged with endless guilt
“It’s ok, Stella, I won the battle. We
won, together.” Says Stacy
“I don’t understand.” Says Stella
“Look at my ring.” Says Stacy
Stella looks at the ring, still glowing
white “You killed people because of a fucking mood ring?!” says Stella, now
quite upset
“It’s not a mood ring, damn it. My life
depends on the ring. Like I said if it goes black I die. If you don’t want to
believe me, that’s fine, but I’m telling you the truth.” Says Stacy, feeling
disrespected due to the lack of confidence
“You are so fucking crazy.” Says Stella,
upset with her sister but overpowered by concern
“Get off of me already. I’m going to
get dressed.” Stacy pushes her sister away, who had become weakened by the
spectacle, Stacy, gets up, dries off, walks out of the bathroom and finds some
clean clothes to wear and starts to comb her hair. Stella sits on the ground
and weeps softly to herself, curled up into a ball.
There is a loud knock on the front
door. “Bay City Police Department! Open Up! We know you’re in there!” Says a man’s
voice from behind the door
“What the fuck?” the man on the couch
whispers to himself being woken up by the loud banging, “The door is open!” he
shouts,
“We would like it if you let us in
yourself, sir.” Shouts the voice from behind the door, this time a woman
“If you’re not willing to open a
fucking door then you can go fuck yourself!” he shouts
“Fine.” Says the woman, as she opens
the door, a man storms in with a pistol raised and a flashlight attached who
scans the room. “Sector Clear.” He says
“What the fuck is wrong with you? What
do you want?” says the man on the couch, clearly upset and in pain by being
awoken so abruptly
“Are you Dale White?” asks the woman
“Do I look like a crippled, drunk,
disheveled idiot to you?” asks Dale
“Umm… Yes?” says the woman nervously
“Well it looks like you found your guy,
what could I possibly be suspected of? I am clearly too drunk and crippled to
do anything, I can’t even walk right now, and I can hardly walk even if I’m not
this drunk. There’s no way I could have done anything. You can take my BAC,
that alibi is rock fucking solid.” Says Dale
“We don’t want to talk to you; we want
to talk to your daughter. Is she home?” says the woman
“I don’t know; I passed out earlier
this afternoon. What did she do?” asks Dale
“We are just trying to corroborate a
story. It might be hard for her.” Says the woman, timidly
“No. She knows how to do that, she
knows how to corroborate, I think so. I’m sure one of them does. At least one
of them definitely knows what that is and how to do it good. They’re good girls;
I don’t know what you want from them.” Says Dale as his consciousness lapses a
bit, struggling with the word
“Stacy, Stella! Come down here, the
cops are here and want you to corroborate!” he shouts up the stairs, still
struggling with the long word
Stacy walks out of her room and towards
the bathroom, her sister now bawling even harder at this news. “You stay here,
ok. This will be fine.” Says Stacy, sternly, before she heads downstairs
“Are you Stacy?” asks the woman
“Yes.” Says Stacy
“I am Lieutenant Vivian Thomas of the
Bay City Police Department. I heard that you were involved in an incident
downtown and was looking to see if you would corroborate the working story so
far. Could you tell me what happened this afternoon?” She says
“Am I under arrest?” asks Stacy, coldly
“Well, no. We understand that you were
involved in an altercation a few blocks from here. We don’t suspect you of any
crime. We cannot trust our witness due to his affiliation to the victim so we
need your corroboration of his story.” Says Vivian
“How did you find me so fast?” asks
Stacy
“Well, there were plenty of reports of
an approximately 5 foot tall girl with light blonde hair wearing a Southern
Preparatory School uniform covered in blood, and many witnesses in the
restaurant reported that one of the victim’s names was Stacy.”
“Damn Stacy, what did you do?” says
Dale, impressed more than concerned
“I don’t want to talk about it. Just
tell me the story I need to corroborate and I will corroborate it.” Says Stacy
“We only want you to corroborate the
story if it is the truth, do you understand what that word means?” says Vivian
“Yes. I know what the word means.” Says
Stacy, feeling disrespected
“Damn, I should have bet money on
that.” Says Dale, proud of his daughter
“I’d be out at least twenty if you
did.” Says the male cop standing in the background “I figured it was a word
only cops learn at the academy, I still don’t know what it means, get em to
talk basically.”
“Ok, well then. You, Stacy, went into
the kitchen at Mr. Chang’s Gourmet Chinese Restaurant with Mr. Chang and
proceeded to interview the chef, Dongbin Chu. Yes?”
“Yes…” says Stacy, nervously
“Damn it Stacy, you got Chinese and
didn’t get me any?” asks Dale, let down, hungry
“You wouldn’t want it from this place.”
Scoffs the male cop
“Please,
be quiet.” Says Vivian “I’m just going to finish the story so don’t interrupt
me. This is going to be very hard for Stacy.”
“You heard the dogs barking and asked
the chef about the dogs. Then Qiang Tu draws his gun and points it at you. Mr.
Chang states his intention of raping you and approaches you. You throw a knife
and at Qiang Tu and he shoots his gun and subsequently dies. Mr. Chang does not
stop his approach so you throw fried food on him and kick him in the groin. You
call him a “Dog eating, wife beater” among other things, and then you stomp on
him and give him a lobotomy before running away crying.” says the cop
“I don’t know about that last part.”
Says Stacy, quite scared
“What about it.” Says Vivian
“I don’t know what it means.” Says
Stacy
“Ok. I did not either, thankfully, but
I learned today. This was described as you sticking a metal skewer into the
nose of Mr. Chang and hammering it into his brain by Dongbin, and the medical
examiner identified this practice as something called a lobotomy.” Says Vivian
“Damn, Stacy, that’s some fucked up
shit!” says Dale, more excited than concerned
“I know right.” Says the male cop,
chuckling
“Oh… Well… maybe.” Mumbles Stacy
“Is there any reason why you did that?
That is rather shocking to be honest.” Says Vivian
“I was scared; I thought he would chase
me down and kill me if I didn’t do something to stop him. He was acting really
sick in the head.” Says Stacy
“Ok…” says Vivian “I’m glad we were
able to corroborate Dongbin’s story; I’m sorry that this traumatic event
happened to you Stacy, but I’m sure we are all glad that you were able to
defend yourself. Dongbin raised some serious allegations against his employer
which are now being investigated, some of which have already been confirmed. By
the way, how did you know that Chang beat his wife?” asks Vivian
“It was just a rumor. I don’t know.”
Says Stacy softly
“I see.” says Vivian “The reason I am
telling you these things because we are pressing multiple charges against Mr.
Chang for his actions today as well as the following revelations. Dongbin has
cooperated fully with the police and thanks to him you will not need to testify
against Chang.”
“We wanted to make sure that you were
all right, but also to see if Dongbin was involved at all, he maintains that he
did nothing the entire time this happened, which we find to be a bit
suspicious.” Says Vivian
“No, he is telling the truth, he didn’t
do anything.” Says Stacy
“Thank you for telling us that.” Says
Vivian
“What about the dogs?” asks Stacy
“He says he didn’t know anything about
the dogs; he told us Qiang would simply bring him the meat from the back and
tell him to cook it.” Says Vivian
“I’m just asking about the dogs back
there, the living ones. Did you rescue them?” asks Stacy
“Yes, they were taken to the shelter.”
Says Vivian
“That’s good, thanks for helping them.”
Says Stacy
“You are a good girl; it hurts me when
things like this happen to people like you. That’s why I became a cop, I felt
it was the only way I could try to stop these things from happening, but here I
am dealing with the same sad story.” Says Vivian
“You are doing your job, that’s what
matters. Even if you caught every criminal on the street today, there would be
thousands of new ones the next day. There’s nothing we can do, it’s just human
nature.” Says Stacy
“I guess you’re right. All I can do is
try to help people afterwards; I guess that counts for something.” Says Vivian
“There’s no point in blaming yourself
for unpredictable and unpreventable things. Thanks for talking to me. I was
really scared after that all happened, but you gave me a sense of relief. Even
just doing that is doing great things for people and the community.”
“Thanks, at least there are still some
people out there who trust the cops. My buddy thought we would get shot the
second we walked in here. That’s not a healthy attitude to have, Ronnie, you
can’t even feel safe around a 14 year old girl.” Says Vivian
“That girl left a real fucked up crime
scene behind her, how am I supposed to feel at ease when we go to talk to her.”
Says Ronnie
“That was a real fucked up crime scene
Ronnie, it would have been way more fucked up if that girl wasn’t able to
defend herself. She’s not a criminal Ronnie and we knew that before we even
came here. I’m just glad you didn’t shoot anybody, Ronnie.” Says Vivian
“Thank you for your help, Stacy. We
know today has been terrible, and we hope you will be all right. The city
doesn’t have social services for these things, but I think your school
councilor might be able to help you if you need to talk to somebody. We will
let you rest. Have a good night and be safe.” says Vivian
“Thanks for everything you do.” Says
Stacy, politely
“I know you may not want ever see
another criminal in your life, but I think you would make an amazing cop.” Says
Vivian
“Thanks. I don’t know if I could, I’m
pretty small.” Says Stacy
“Your heart is big, and that’s what
counts.” Says Vivian
“No, Vivian, it is clearly your muscles
and wrestling skills that count. Your heart isn’t going to stop a criminal.”
Says Ronnie
“God damn it, Ronnie. Way to ruin
things like always.” Says Vivian
“I’m just telling the girl the truth.
If she was the ideal cop, the city would be reduced to anarchy in a day. I’m
amazed she got out of there alive. You’re not going to ask her about her witch
friends?” asks Ronnie
“They are not suspected of anything and
Dongbin said they did not do anything. We don’t need to.” Says Vivian
“Who the fuck runs around in a witch
costume, anyways?” asks Ronnie
“Oh, I don’t really know those girls;
they were just some cosplayers or something that I ran into on the street. They
won’t even tell me their real names; I guess they are really into that playing
pretend stuff. I don’t know why they choose to follow me around though.” Says
Stacy
“Cause they’re fucking weirdos.
Probably pretend to be your fairy godmother or something. Kids are crazy these
days.” Says Ronnie
“Yeah, they are a bit silly like that,
but they are fun, so I don’t get mad at them for randomly showing up in my
life.” Says Stacy
“That’s some fucking stalker shit right
there.” Says Ronnie
“No, Ronnie. They’re called friends. If
you ever had any friends, you would know what the fuck a friend is. Jesus
Christ. We’ve got to go; there are more crimes to deal with. Once again, I’m
sorry this happened to you and thank you for your time.” Says Vivian
“Ta-ta” says Ronnie, politely, as he
tips his officer hat with professional rehearsed courtesy
“Bye!” says Stacy, warmly as they exit
“Shut the door on your way out.” Mumbles
Dale, They don’t.
“Damn it, Stacy; that was the most
fucked up story I’ve ever heard. I hope I remember that in the morning. You got
to tell it to me one time. I would be real sad if you got killed you know, but
hearing that shit blew my mind, I didn’t know you had that in you.” Says Dale
“Yeah… I didn’t either. I kind of hope
you don’t remember it though, I don’t want you to think of me in that way.” Says
Stacy
“Don’t worry.” Says Dale, laughing,
“You underestimate my level of blackout drunk.”
Stacy laughs nervously “Thankfully, I
don’t. But I’m going upstairs; I’ll talk to you later.” She says as she walks upstairs
and into the bathroom, her sister still curled in a ball on the floor.
“You remember that opening whole can of
worms about me killing people? Well we don’t have to worry about that anymore.
We picked up all the worms and put them back in the can.” Says Stacy, eerily
calm
“You are so fucking crazy.” Says her
sister, angrily, scared
“Don’t say that. I just did what I had
to do. The cops told me that it was ok because I was just defending myself. Let’s
turn that frown upside down; I’m not going anywhere, that’s a reason to smile
isn’t it?” asks Stacy
“You fucking killed two people and
you’re just going to pretend like everything is hunky-dory. What is wrong with
you?” Says Stella, still in shock, in denial, scared, tears welling up in her
eyes again
“I killed one person. The other one is
still alive. There’s nothing wrong with me either; there would be something
wrong with me if I let myself get raped and murdered in the kitchen of a
Chinese restaurant.” Says Stacy, still delighted with her newfound innocence
“Don’t do crazy shit like that ever
again. The cops can forgive you but I can’t. You made me want to die, really
bad. That is all I wanted for the last half hour was to just die. My whole body
hurt so bad I couldn’t move, I’ve never felt that bad in my entire life. Even
when mom died. This was worse than that, so much worse, so unimaginably worse.”
Says Stella
“It’s ok now. That time is over. It’s
darkest just before the sun rises.” Says Stacy
“What if the sun doesn’t fucking rise,
Stacy!? What then?” Shouts Stella
“Man has asked that question since the
dawn of time, yet the sun rises every day.” Says Stacy
“God damn it Stacy, you are not the
sun, you are a little girl. Don’t fucking do this to me ever again!” shouts
Stella as she stands up and hugs her sister, having started to cry again
“It’s ok.” says Stacy, holding her
sister “It’s all ok.”
“I’ll be sure to wash myself off next
time. Sorry for putting you through that.” Jokes Stacy after a long moment of
silence
He sister had stopped crying and grabs
her sister by the shoulders and stares at her “Fuck you, Stacy. Fuck you.” She
says, furious with her sister
“How about that bath you wanted. I’ll
clean the tub for you. It’s the least I could do.” Says Stacy
“Fine. Seriously, no fucking next time.
We’ll all be dead, you, then me, then dad drinks himself to death. Do you want
to kill your entire fucking family Stacy? Are you that fucking crazy?” asks
Stella, still furious
“Nobody is going to die. Just relax;
you’ve been through a lot.” Says Stacy
“Me? I’ve been through a lot? What
about you? How are you acting like this?” asks Stella
“Well, the response I’ve got from
everybody was basically “Good Job” to be honest.” Says Stacy
“Good Job?” asks Stella “Are you
fucking kidding me?”
“Well, the people with that opinion
would be the cops, dad, and the dog.” Says Stacy with a bit of pride in her
voice
“Welcome to America! Fuck me, right?”
says Stella
“Come on, I’ll clean the tub. We can
forget about this in the morning.” Says Stacy as she starts to scrub the light bloodstains
out of the tub.
“Now I know why you were acting that
way; now I know that getting a few “Good Jobs” is all that it takes to feel
good about killing somebody.” Says Stella
“He was a bad man. He pulled a gun on
me. Live by the sword, die by the sword. It’s the age old story.” Says Stacy
“Wow. What happened to the lighthearted
smiling carefree girl I used to know? Who is this incarnation of karmatic
vengeance that is cleaning the bathtub? Smiling so sincerely after killing
somebody and coming home covered in blood?” asks Stella
Stacy softly sings, the first two lines of the
chorus of Cat Steven’s Wild World, nervously, poorly
“Fine. Fuck it. Forget it. I’m just
glad you are alive. I can’t be mad at you for defending yourself. I would
rather you have some blood on your hands than be dead in the ground. At least I
can wash off the blood if you don’t want to.” Says Stella, reflectively
“Am I now four for four on “Good Job’s”
today? What a stroke of good fortune.” Says Stacy
“God damn it Stacy, you know you are
literally batshit insane right now.” Says Stella, scowling at Stacy
“Well, I’m not dead, so I’ll just have
to count my blessings.” Says Stacy, lightheartedly
Stella sighs “I’ll count mine too;
today might have had too many to count for you to still be alive and not in
jail.”
“I suppose we can leave the counting to
God and just be grateful for the blessings then.” Says Stacy
“I have no idea why God loves you so
much, but I am grateful for that.” Says Stella
“I’m just a lovable girl, what can I
say.” Says Stacy, pompously “The bath is ready, nice and warm for you to relax
your worries away.” says Stacy
“Thanks for that.” Says Stella “I
really fucking need one right now.”
“You want me to return today’s favor? I
don’t mind washing you. I feel like I owe you one.” Jokes Stacy
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about
that.” Says Stella, a bit embarrassed
“Maybe next time.” Says Stacy, still
joking
“The next time you come home and find
me naked and covered in blood sitting in the bathtub being unwilling to wash
myself, sure, go right ahead. Until then, I think I’ll be ok. ” says Stella,
dismissively
“Duly noted.” Says Stella
“If that ever happens, I seriously
expect you to wash me, you do owe me one.” Says Stella, taking off her clothes
“I’ll put it in my plans for tomorrow,
ok?” jokes Stacy
Stella rolls her eyes “Give me some
peace already. I need to relax. You put me through hell tonight.” Says Stacy
“Through
hell and back again, if I remember correctly.” Says Stacy, prodly, beginning to
leave the bathroom, as her sister gets in the tub.
“Thanks for bringing me back. Thank
you. Seriously. I didn’t think I was coming back.” Says Stella, distantly,
truly grateful
“You wouldn’t expect any less from me,
would you?” says Stacy
“You make me want to believe in you
like that, but that sort of optimism might kill me.” Says Stella
“That sort of optimism is the only
reason I’m still alive.” Says Stacy
“I’ll remember that.” Says Stella
“I hope you wouldn’t forget something that
you taught me.” Says Stacy as she exits the room. Stella sighs a restless sigh.
Stella exits the bathroom, Stacy
already asleep with the light on. Stella turns out the light and goes to sleep.
The sun rises once more on the sleepy
house. Stella wakes up, still shaken and goes into the kitchen while Stacy
still sleeps. She breathes deeply and eventually drops her head, holding it up
with her hands, looking at the floor, still breathing deeply.
“Fuck.” She says quietly. She feels
sick, but manages to toast a piece of bread, butters it, and eats it, drinking
a glass of tap water.
The alarm goes off and wakes up Stacy
who comes downstairs, their father sleeping on the couch as usual.
“Good morning.” Says Stacy, smiling nervously.
Stella glares at her. “You sleep well?” she continues, nervously casual
“I don’t know how you can sleep at
night.” Says Stella
“I slept like a rock. I was beat.”
“Really? No contemplative regret
keeping you up at night?” says Stella
“Let’s not live in the past. What’s
done is done. Carpe Diem, remember?” says Stacy, smiling nervously, intimidated
by her sister
“You are sick, and you sicken me. You
are happy and carefree, after everything that happened.” Says Stella
“If my sickness is happiness and being
carefree, let’s just hope it’s contagious, eh?” jokes Stacy
“That’s it. I’m done. You’ve got me.
I’ve caught your sickness. I don’t give a fuck anymore.” Says Stacy as she
slaps her hands on the table.
“That’s the spirit. Who gives a fuck
these days anyways. Totally overrated.” Says Stacy as she walks to the fridge
and pours herself some milk.
“Let me check.” Says Stella, with a mix
of passive anger and sarcasm, she looks down at her bare wrist as if to check a
watch, “Well it’s certainly not me.”
Stacy looks at her sister and drinks
the milk, a bit confused, then looks down at her wrist in the same manner “Wow,
what a coincidence. Looks like I don’t give a fuck either.” She says with a confused
and dry tone
“I’ll be damned. We’re like two peas in
a pod.” Says Stella
“So what do you want to do today?” asks
Stacy casually
“What do you mean, it’s a school day.”
Says Stella coldly
“See, unlike you I really don’t give a
fuck. We have a great opportunity to take the day off.” Says Stacy
“I’m sorry, I forgot that your murders
were paid for in vacation days. By all means, enjoy your time off.” Says
Stella, sarcastic again
“No, no. You’re right. It’s important
that we go to school. If we miss school then everybody will know something happened
to us. You don’t want that to happen, do you?” asks Stacy, mildly serious
“You’re god damn right I don’t; that’s
why you’re going to school. I’m not having people suspect me as the sister of a
murderer when it’s only the third day of school.” Says Stella
“I don’t know if that can be avoided at
this point.” Says Stacy
“Well we’re going to make a concerted
effort to make damn sure that it is avoided. We just sat at home and played
cards yesterday. That’s it.”
“Let’s just go with the story that we
did nothing, honestly playing cards makes you sound more boring than if you
just say you did nothing.” Says Stacy
“Nothing it is.” Says Stella, still a
bit hostile
“You should really relax a bit; people
will ask you why you’re so upset and that’s no good.” Says Stacy, sipping a
second glass of milk
“I’m trying.” Says Stella
“You want a massage?” asks Stacy,
joking casually
“No.” says Stella, frowning
“Drink a glass of milk. It will make
you feel better.” Says Stacy
“If that is the secret to your
happiness then by all means I’ll try it.” Says Stella
“It couldn’t hurt.” Says Stacy as she
pours a glass of milk and gives it to her sister who starts to drink it slowly
“It’s good, isn’t it” Says Stacy
“It really does make you feel better.
Why would I want to think these terrible thoughts when I can just think about
how delicious this milk is?” Says Stella
“I think about that a lot to be honest,
it’s a good thought.” Says Stacy
“I can’t say I expected much more from
you.” Says Stella still drinking her milk slowly “This is good, I’ve repressed
all of my terrible memories and experiences from yesterday and covered them up
with thoughts of delicious milk.” sounding sincere
“Really?” asks Stacy
“No. Sadly, no I have not.” Says Stella
“Oh. I was about to say we might actually
be two peas in a pod.” Says Stacy, lighthearted
“Still, if you have to remember one
thing, it’s usually pretty good to remember that milk is delicious.” Says Stacy
“Thanks for the sage wisdom. I’m sure I
will pass that down for generations.” Says Stella dryly
“Speaking of sage wisdom, we really
should head off to school.” Says Stacy
“I hope I can keep my shit together. I
don’t know how you are doing it right now. I’m a little on edge as you can tell.”
Says Stella
“Just try to think about milk and if you
think of something upsetting, you can look down at your wrist and remember you
just don’t give a fuck.” Says Stacy
Stella stares at her sister with a
bewildered smile. She looks down at her wrist “Wow, who would have guessed. Not
a one. No fucks given at all.” Says Stella with a mix of sarcasm, bafflement,
and seriousness as she looks back at her sister
“Good.” Says Stacy “You ready to go?”
“Carpe fucking diem.” Says Stella with
wild eyes, brimming upon insanity
“Chomping at the bit. I like it. Back
to your old self.” Says Stacy
“It’s just like you to come out of a
life-changing experience completely unchanged.” Says Stella
“You can lead a horse to water.” Says
Stacy
“But you can’t make him drink.” Says
Stella
“Things would be different had they led
me to milk; I’m not the biggest fan of water.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure one day you will be led to
the fountain of milk, and you will drink.” Says Stella, sarcastic, yet bold
with the confidence of a prophet
“That would be the best day of my
life.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope you don’t die of
dehydration before that happens.” Says Stella
“I drink plenty of fluids.” Says Stacy
“You missed the allegory completely,
but who cares. It’s time for school.” Says Stella, still sounding a bit like a
lunatic
“Tally ho!” says Stacy, cheerfully
“Tally ho!” says Stella, even more
excited as they walk to the door.
“We’re off to school dad. See you later.” Says Stella
“Bye, dad.”
“God damn I’m fucked up; I drank too
much last night. I didn’t even know it was possible for me to do that. What
happened to me?” He asks
“Nothing.” Both of the girls say
simultaneously
“Don’t die, ok?” Says Stacy, warmly
“If last night didn’t kill me I may
well be immortal.” Says her dad, holding his head
“Get some rest ok. You will feel
better.” Says Stella
“You two have fun now. I’ll be alive
when you get home.” He says, nodding off to sleep
“That’s good to hear.” Says Stella as
she looks at her sister with serious expecting eyes
“I’ll be alive when you get home too.
Don’t worry.” Says Stacy, nonchalantly
“That is what I wanted to hear. Thank
you. Let us embark, shall we?” says Stella with sharp annunciation, in a
pleasant yet intimidating tone
“Of course.” says Stacy as they exit
the door and venture down the familiar streets.
Cheerful clouds swim through the sky
like cotton balls, casting shadows that playfully danced across the face of the
coy city streets. It is an ordinary day with two apparently ordinary young
schoolgirls walking to school on an ordinary day
“You still didn’t do your homework.”
Says Stella
“I knew I forgot something.” Says
Stacy, smiling and rubbing her neck
“With your newfound devil-may-care
attitude I wouldn’t think you would be embarrassed about some trivial thing
like that.” Says Stella
“What new devil-may-care attitude? It’s
still the same devil-may-care attitude, after all.” Says Stacy
“You’re right; I didn’t mean to flatter
you. Only a fool would think that there is any authenticity in your work ethic
when you do the bare minimum to keep up appearances.” Says Stella
“It’s an authentic bare minimum though.
Besides, that attitude doesn’t help me when I’m in hell. If the devil cares,
which he does, I’m getting poked with the pitchfork, and that’s where we’re
going right now, unfortunately.” Says Stacy
“What ever shall you do?” Asks Stella
sarcastically
“It’s all about adaptation. I might
struggle to survive, but I’ll survive. The trick is to do the homework for your
next class in the previous class, and you can win Satan’s game of limbo by the
skin of your teeth.” Says Stacy
“You seem to like gambling with the
skin of your teeth; you might just lose it eventually.” Says Stella
“I’m not worried, it will grow back.”
Grins Stacy
“You better hope so.” Says Stella,
distantly
The girls approach the gates of the
school, nobody greets them.
“I’m going to class; don’t go raising
hell when I’m gone.” Says Stella
“No promises.” Jokes Stacy
Stella flips Stacy the bird and scowls
at her
“Ok, I promise.” Says Stacy reluctantly
“Good.” Says Stella with satisfaction
that was a bit out of touch with reality
Stacy walks into class. Jenna suddenly becomes
nervous and avoids eye contact. Stacy walks to her seat, Ophelia looks at her
uneasily.
“Ta da.” Says Stacy, softly, presenting
herself as if it were a magic trick
“You scare me, but now it’s gone from a
fright to a spook.” Says Ophelia
“Don’t worry, I figured you of all
people would know that nothing bad ever happens to the good guys.” Says Stacy
“Oh…” says Ophelia, a bit bewildered,
she thinks for a second “I did know that though.” She says confidently
“Don’t forget it.” Says Stacy, smiling
The teacher starts talking “Apparently
there was an incident that happened after school where an unnamed student was
in danger. Please do remember to be safe. Travel in groups and don’t trust
strangers. We live in a big city and there are bad people out there, be wary.
Now we continue our lesson today…”
Stacy does her homework in the order
that it is due today as the teacher drones. She is able to finish the light work
of the early schoolyear handedly. Nobody brings up the events of yesterday
within any context that might involve or implicate her in any way. She is
pleased, the events of yesterday vivid but palpably dreamlike despite the
vividness.
Stacy walks up to Jenna after class,
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” jokes Stacy
“I don’t know what to say.” Says Jenna
distantly
“I’m happy to see you? Maybe?” says
Stacy
“I’m very ambivalent about seeing you.”
Says Jenna
“A little happy?” asks Stacy
“More than a little.” Says Jenna,
anxious but relieved
“I’m still spooked. She might be a
ghost.” Says Ophelia
Stacy strokes Ophelia’s face playfully
“Would these warm dainty hands lie to you?” She asks
Ophelia squeezes Stacy tightly “She’s
not a ghost!” she exclaims
“Ow.” Says Stacy
“I am still praying for you Stacy.”
Says Jenna softly, in a somber tone
“Don’t worry. Your prayers have already
been answered.” Says Stacy, merrily
“Some of them.” Says Jenna, looking
away
“Well keep praying, it’s clearly
working.” Says Stacy playfully
“I don’t know what god has in store for
you, but I will keep praying for you. That much I know.” Says Jenna, still
rattled
“Go to class, girls.” Interrupts the
teacher
“Sorry, sorry. I’ll be leaving now.”
Says Jenna, quickly picking up her things
“See you tomorrow.” Says Stacy
“Bye!” says Ophelia
“We can talk later Stacy; I’ll see you at
lunch.” She says, coldly
“It’s a date.” Says Stacy, still
playful as she and Ophelia leave the class
Jenna rolls her eyes and separates from
the girls. The classes pass by unremarkably and the girls head to lunch at
their usual spot. Stacy and Ophelia’s cheery faces contrast the glum concern of
Jenna.
“How are you two smiling? I don’t get
it.” Says Jenna
Stacy and Ophelia glance at each other,
a bit unsure of what to say.
“Well…” says Ophelia “Stacy reminded me
that we are the good guys and that made me feel a lot better about what
happened. Those guys were really bad, as much as I don’t like what happened,
they deserved it.”
“That answers the simpler part of the
question. Now it’s your turn Stacy.” Says Jenna, satisfied with Ophelia’s
answer even if she was not exactly pleased with it
“I’ll be honest. I’m a simple girl.”
Says Stacy “I was really quite upset about it, but the police told me what I
did was right, both them and my father basically told me ‘Good job.’, I am
guessing from the ring that the dog is telling me “Good job.”, and I’m
pretending that my sister told me ‘Good job.’” Says Stacy
“Good Job? You think you did a good
thing yesterday?” asks Jenna, dumbfounded
“The rings don’t lie, Jenna! She did a
good thing.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not saying that’s my opinion, but
that’s the general consensus so I’m just going along with it.” Says Stacy
“What was going through your mind? You
did some terrible things, we could have just ran away.” says Jenna
“I don’t know. I was scared and this
instinct kicked in; I wasn’t thinking anything, I was just doing. It’s not like
I thought about it; my brain was just 100% sure that this is what I should do
and I didn’t question it, I couldn’t. I was scared and my mind went blank. It
felt like a dream. You know where you don’t really think about what you’re
doing or anything, you just know what is happening and don’t question anything.
You just do things as if it’s all second nature, even when you are in a
completely unfamiliar environment your mind doesn’t question anything. When I
think about what happened it just seems like a dream. I know it wasn’t, but
that’s just how it felt.” Says Stacy
“It must be your magic brain or
something. That’s crazy how you lost control of your body but amazing that it
saved your life. It saved all of us.” Says Ophelia
“It was her magic brain that got us into that situation in the first place, but
regardless. It does kind of make sense that your omniscience would overpower
your natural thinking. You just knew what to do and how to do it perfectly,
your brain controls your body so clearly if you brain knows exactly how to do
something it just has to command your body to emulate that knowledge.” Says
Jenna
“I don’t know. I just know I’ve got to
trust it if it ever kicks in again. I was just in shock, looking out of my eyes
like my body was a prison and I could feel my brain, my whole self just living
in my eyes, just watching, I don’t know what the feeling is called but it felt
something like ‘Not today, motherfucker’ and my body just goes into that
fighting mode.” Says Stacy
“That might just be the will to live;
you hear about similar things happening to other people when they are in life
or death situations.” Says Jenna
“I’m glad she has that, it really
helped.” Says Ophelia
“I’m almost ashamed to say it, but we
should also find that feeling, Ophelia, that source of power and courage. We
just got scared and couldn’t do anything.” Says Jenna
“Don’t act like you didn’t help. You
saved my ass. I couldn’t have taken the guy out if you hadn’t done what I told
you.” Says Stacy
“When I think about it, I was acting
the same way. I didn’t know what to do, but when you told me, I just did it
without thinking.” Says Jenna
“I feel kind of bad that my love magic
wasn’t able to help you. I guess it’s not strong enough to overpower evil right
now. I’m sure I just need more practice.” Says Ophelia
“Your magic made me love the both of
you though. I was willing to risk my life in the hopes of protecting you. I
didn’t question it at all, not for a moment.” Says Stacy
“Yeah. You were directly in the line of
fire of my love beams. I hope I didn’t break your heart or anything.” Says
Ophelia
“I don’t think love beams could ever
hurt somebody.” Says Stacy, smirking
“You clearly underestimate the pain of
a broken heart. You can die from a broken heart, Stacy. I’m serious. I’ve got
to be more careful. My magic is strong, but I’ve got to learn to control it.”
Says Ophelia, quite serious
“I should really try to learn my magic
too. I’ve been trepidatious about it, but it would be irresponsible for me not
to practice at this point. There was easily something I could have done if only
I knew how.” Says Jenna
“Don’t worry about it. You both did
great. It was a trial by fire and we succeeded. We can’t ask for much more.”
Says Stacy
“Let’s hope for fair weather for a
while; I don’t know how lucky we can continue to be. Not after something like
that.” Says Jenna
“It wasn’t luck, Jenna, it was our
destiny.” Says Ophelia
“That seems like a very dark destiny.”
Says Jenna
“But we are the light in that
darkness.” Says Ophelia
“Here’s to that.” Says Stacy as she
drinks the rest of her milk
“Why are teenagers so bullheaded? Is
death really the only thing that can teach them anything?” asks Jenna
“Certainly not, books seem to be able
to teach you plenty of things, Jenna.” Jokes Stacy
“If I find a book about common sense
you two had better read it.” Says Jenna, sarcastically
“I could easily write the book on
common sense.” Says Stacy
“It would help if you know what common
sense is. Apparently it’s an archaic term because it isn’t very common these
days.” Says Jenna
“Oh. You wanted something about
uncommon sense. Perhaps you should write that one. You are uncommonly sensible,
after all.” Says Stacy
“I might just do it, for both of your
sakes.” Says Jenna, seriously
“I’ve got enough reading already Jenna,
don’t worry about it. There are plenty of books in the world, we don’t need
anymore.” Says Ophelia
“Ironically common sense prevents me
from writing that book, because I know nobody who needs to read it would
actually read it.” Says Jenna, sassily, smug in her own literacy
The second lunch bell rings
“We should go. I hope you have enough
common sense to know that.” Says Jenna
“Even a horse has enough common sense
to run when the starting gates open.” Says Stacy, feigning pride
“At least you have the common sense of
a horse; that’s a good start.” Says Jenna
“My sister would beg to differ.” Jokes
Stacy
“Horses are pretty smart you know.”
Says Ophelia
Jenna rolls her eyes, “Let’s go.” She
says
The girls head into the club room and
take their seats, the room a bit more lively than usual. The last of the girls
trickle in and Aurelia once again takes to the front of the class.
“As I’m sure all of you have heard
already, there was an incident after school yesterday. I don’t know much about
it, but I was instructed to remind everybody about the importance of safety.
They pressed me more than most clubs because sometimes we go out in the city in
an attempt to raise money. Just stay with a group and don’t trust any
strangers, don’t go into their homes or offices, it should be easy, ok? Does
everyone understand?” says Aurelia in a pleasant, almost unconcerned tone
The class acknowledges that they
understand in a disorganized mumble. Stacy playfully salutes and winks from the
back of the class.
“Other than that it’s just a usual day; we
will be volunteering at the shelter this weekend so please write your name down
if you want to come, we will be meeting in front of the school at 9:00 and
taking the metro to the shelter.” Aurelia continues, the class starts to babble
in the common commotion of schoolgirls
“Yay, we get to play with the animals!”
says Ophelia to her friends
“Yay.” Says Stacy, in deadpan
unenthused sarcasm
“I’m still worried about the dogs from
yesterday.” Says Ophelia
“The cops told me they got taken to the
shelter.” Says Stacy
“I guess every cloud has a silver
lining.” Says Jenna
“I can’t wait to see them. I’m sure
they really need some love.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know how friendly those dogs
will be.” Says Stacy, timidly
“I will shower them with the love they
never received.” Says Ophelia, swooning
“I’ll go with you Ophelia; do you want
to come, Stacy?” asks Jenna
“Not really.” Says Stacy
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’m going to
write our names down.” Says Ophelia as she gets up and goes to do so
“I can hardly wait.” Says Stacy, still
unenthusiastic
“We’re in the Animal Club now, at least
pretend to love animals.” says Jenna
“I love the small ones, birds and
squirrels and things. I can do cats ok, but dogs are a bit much. Ophelia would
go hug a bear or a lion if she had a chance, where as I actually value my
life.” Says Stacy
“Well, you should try to value the
lives of others, Stacy, I’m sure the
dogs and cats want to be alive too, and some love and attention would make
their depressing lives a lot more tolerable.” Says Jenna
“I’ll work on it.” Says Stacy as
Ophelia returns
“I’m so excited!” says Ophelia
“It’s like you’ve never seen a dog
before.” Says Stacy dryly
“Well, I haven’t seen these ones, and
I’m sure there will be a bunch of cute puppies and kittens too!” says Ophelia
“I’ll stick to the small ones.” Says
Stacy
A brown haired girl a bit taller than
Stacy excitedly approaches the three. “Did you guys hear about what happened
yesterday? You know, why we are getting the safety talk all day?” she asks
“No…” the three say in unison
“Oh, well, apparently, a girl was like
cornered by rapists in this restaurant and she killed one of them and beat up
the other guy, and then they found a bunch of dogs in the back and the one guy
she beat up turned out to be some terrible guy, he got charged with a bunch of
unrelated things on top of the rapey stuff after that, like beating his wife.
On the news they said something about how she can’t be identified because she’s
a minor, but it was crazy, I heard she was like covered and blood walking down
the street. I’m pretty sure she’s from our school too or they wouldn’t be so
serious about this. She sounds like a total badass, and apparently she had like
witch friends or something there helping her fight the guys off, it’s totally
crazy. I want to meet her so bad.” Says the excited girl, talking quickly
“Yeah, wow. That’s crazy.” Says Stacy
distantly, uninterested
“It is terrible that things like that
can happen.” Says Jenna, also distant
“Those girls sound totally amazing! I
can’t believe they were able to fight off the bad guys like that.” Says
Ophelia, lathering herself in the compliment
“I know right! I want her to teach me
how to do that stuff. Maybe we will see her one day; I’m going to keep an eye
out for the witch girls. That’s really my only clue so far. It was so crazy
hearing the news” she says, “One man is dead and one more is in the hospital
after a schoolgirl and two witches fend off rapists in the kitchen of a Chinese
restaurant.” Imitating the news anchor, “I thought I was going crazy, but no,
it was real. Wow.” She says still talking fast. “I’m Shirley by the way, I’ve
just been asking around to find out more information, but nobody knows
anything, it’s weird. You three were like the most out of the loop so far, kind
of weird that you didn’t hear anything.” Says Shirley
“I don’t watch the news; it’s nothing
but bad news anyways.” Says Jenna
“That’s kind of true.” Says Shirley
“What are your names anyways? Are you going to help the animals on Saturday?”
“I’m Jenna”
“Stacy.”
“Ophelia, and of course we are going to
help the animals! What kind of Animal Club members would we be if we didn’t?”
she says smiling
“It’s good to know, I’ll see you then
and maybe some other time. I’ve got to keep searching for clues!” says Shirley,
still excited as she goes out to interrogate other people
“Wow, she was quite the ball of
energy.” Says Stacy, speaking softly
“I can’t believe we got a compliment!
Wow, that feels so awesome!” Says Ophelia, excitedly, but modestly quiet
“That is not the kind of thing we
should want compliments for.” Says Jenna, with the same softness in her voice
“It feels better than getting
criticized though, right?” says Stacy
“I guess.” Says Jenna a bit disheartened
“Anyways, after club, I’ve got a plan.”
Says Stacy
“No.” says Jenna, seriously “No more
plans Stacy.”
“Relax. It’s not like that.” Says Stacy
“No, it’s not like anything. There is
no plan Stacy.” Says Jenna, still serious
“It’s just the whole cops at my house,
bloody schoolgirl on the news, safety talk at school. That is bad. So we’re
going to fix it.” Says Stacy
“We’re going to fix it by not doing
those things, ok, Stacy?” says Jenna, concerned
“What I’m saying is, even if we don’t do anything like that, if I’m seen
with the two witch girls then people will figure out pretty quick who was at
the Chinese restaurant that day. I’m going to need a disguise, at least until I
can transform like you two.” Says Stacy
“That actually sounds like you found
some common sense, it’s a miracle.” Says Jenna
“Thanks.” Says Stacy, sarcastically
“Yay! Shopping!” says Ophelia
The class paying no attention to their
conversation as Shirley’s voice makes enough incessant white noise to reduce
any other conversations to indecipherable rabble. Jenna studies and Ophelia
flips through magazines. Stacy does her homework. The club time comes and goes,
Aurelia dismisses everybody. The girls exit into the courtyard.
“So where are we going.” Asks Jenna
“There is a costume shop a few blocks
from here. I’m sure we can find something there.” Says Stacy
“Do you have any money?” asks Jenna
Stacy looks into her bag “I brought
some, hopefully I can find something, even if it’s silly, it just has to be
something.” Says Stacy
The girls walk the few blocks and
finally approach a small storefront with masks and an assortment of costumes on
display in the windows and enter the building. A disheveled punker of a man
stands behind the counter, looking disinterested, reading a magazine.
“Happy Halloween.” He says in a drab
tone
“It’s August.” Says Stacy dryly
“It’s always Halloween here; at least
most people who shop here think that.” He says
“Oh. Well, we are just looking for a
cute costume for our friend here.” Says Ophelia
“Anything in specific?” he asks
“Maybe like a cute witch or something?”
says Jenna, a bit unsure of herself
“That horror story from yesterday is
making Halloween come early I see. We’ve got plenty of stuff like that. I
didn’t think you three would be the type to like that sort of thing.” He says
“Those girls were victims and they did
nothing wrong.” Says Ophelia, defensively
“Victims? I tend to think of the victim
as the one who is dead and covered in their own blood or in the hospital.” He
says
“Those girls are heroes; they stopped
bad men from doing bad things.” Continues Ophelia
“Stop it.” Says Jenna
“That horror show shit is rare, even in
this city, well, at least in this part of town. To think that little girls were
behind that shit scares me. Me, of all people, I work in a Halloween shop and
watch horror on a nightly basis. Girls costumes are over there though, knock
yourselves out.” He says and points to a corner of the store
“I’m with you, real horror show shit.”
Says Stacy as the girls walk away
“These witch costumes are all the
classic spooky witch kind of deal. I’m not sure that would work.” Says Stacy,
looking at the costumes
“Yeah, our costumes are kind of like
just cute clothes and a witch hat.” Says Ophelia
“Let’s just go with something cute over
something witchy. That should make it easier.” Says Stacy
“Ok, how about cute maid?” asks
Ophelia, shuffling through the many hangars
“No.”
“Cute nurse?” asks Jenna
“No.”
“Schoolgirl?” asks Ophelia
“That’s not even a costume at this
point.” Says Stacy
“Cheerleader?” asks Jenna
“Still not a costume.”
“Skeleton?” asks Ophelia
“That’s just ridiculous.”
“Secretary?” asks Jenna
“Once again, not a costume.”
“Bumblebee?” asks Ophelia
“Too silly.”
“Santa?” asks Jenna
“Ho ho no. Too seasonal.”
“Kitty Cat!” shouts Ophelia
“I wouldn’t pleasure you like that.”
“Cute cop?” asks Jenna
“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal”
“Mermaid?” asks Ophelia
“Ridiculous.”
“Cowgirl?” asks Jenna
“That might work. How much is that?”
“$80” says Jenna
“I’ve got like twenty some; we’ve got
to think smaller. Deskman, you’ve got any cheap things just for kicks?” she
shouts at the man at the desk
“We’ve got some little things over
there and there’s a clearance section right next to it.” He says,
disinterested.
The girls walk over.
“Most of the costumes look like
something a male stripper would wear.” Says Jenna
“Let me look.” Says Stacy, Ophelia
looking through the knick-knacks
“An angle costume. XXL though.”
“Lets try to find something that fits.”
“This is the only thing I can find.”
Says Jenna, pulling out a Valentine’s Day dress
“Well, I wouldn’t be caught dead in it.
So it could work.” Says Stacy
“It’s the only thing I could find that
is an adult extra-extra-small, you’re pretty hard to shop for, you know. At
least try it on, it’s only twenty dollars.” Says Jenna
“I’ll take what I can get.” Says Stacy
as she takes the dress back to the changing room
Stacy walks out wearing the red formfitting
dress with a heart-shaped bodice with the sides of the dress cut out to make
the heart shape. The tips of the heart shaped bust connected to the back with
thin straps, the tail of the heart extending down, covering only her navel
before meeting the skirt, she spins around, the biconcave back exposes her
waist and lower ribs, but widens slightly as it approaches the hips and
connects to the skirt which hung a bit loose as it approached the middle of her
thighs before stopping abruptly.
“That is a bit much…” says Jenna,
embarrassed
“I can clearly see why nobody bought
it.” Says Stacy
“Oh my gosh! So cute! You have to buy
it.” exclaims Ophelia, delighted and excited
“I don’t know if I can trust your
opinion, Ophelia.” Says Stacy, smugly
“Yes you can!” she says
“I’ll ask the deskman.” Says Stacy as
she approaches
“Hey deskman, I need an opinion on this
dress.” She says
“An opinion? I don’t know why somebody
would make a dress like that for a twelve year old.” He says
“One, I’m fourteen, and two this is an
adult’s dress. I am just wondering, is it nice, or stupid, or what.” She says
“It doesn’t look bad, it’s just a
matter of how you want to present yourself, I suppose.” He says
“Well, like an adult I suppose.” Says
Stacy
“The dress is very adult.” Says the man
“If that’s what you wanted you hit the nail on the head.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Thanks.”
Says Stacy
“No problem.” He says, indifferently,
as he returns to his magazine and Stacy returns to her friends
“So?” says Ophelia, excitedly
“I guess I’m going to get it. It’s the
only thing in my budget that fits me.” Says Stacy
“Awesome!” says Ophelia
“You really still aren’t all that
disguised though.” Says Jenna
“It’s true, but it’s definitely way
better than my uniform. I wouldn’t be caught dead in this, so it’s kind of
perfect. I just need to find a hat or something. What do you think Ophelia?”
Says Stacy
“Well, I really wanted you to go with
kitty cat, so I kind of picked out some things.” Says Ophelia
“You already wear a headband, so
obviously I found you a cat ear headband; it’s white so it matches your hair!
The other thing is these cute pink cat-eyes glasses, nothing says perfect
disguise like glasses.”
“Great.” Says Stacy a bit let down, but
willing to take what she can get
“Try them on!” says Ophelia
Stacy looks down at the pink costume
glasses that flare out flamboyantly with a black fade similar to eyeshadow that
was adorned with swirls of silver. She puts them on along with the cute, fuzzy
cat ears.
“Yes!” says Ophelia
“I actually wouldn’t recognize you. If
you’re ok with looking like that.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t have to
look at myself, but I feel bad for inflicting this on other people.” Says Stacy
“What? It’s super cute. I’m going to
buy them for you and you will totally wear them. It’s going to be great. I mean
your magic name is Kitty after all.” Says Ophelia, excitedly
“When did we decide on my name?” says
Stacy
“Well on the first day, you got to name
us, so I went ahead and named you Kitty.” Says Ophelia
“Two witches and their love kitten.”
Jokes Jenna
“I’m just going to have to swallow my
pride. If I want to complete my disguise I have to rely on Ophelia, so I’m
really at her mercy. Anything is better than my uniform.” Says Stacy
“Hooray!” says Ophelia
Stacy changes back into her clothes,
then buys the dress, Ophelia buys her the knick-knacks.
“So cute witch turned into love kitten,
eh?” says the deskman
“I just wanted to leave with something.
This uniform is killing me.” Says Stacy
“I’ll let you know, I’ve seen plenty of
worse decisions made in this shop. Your friend actually has some fashion
sense.” He says
“If only she could find some common
sense.” Says Jenna, sarcastically
“It seems that girls either have one or
the other.” Says the man
“Fashion sense is way better anyways.”
Says Ophelia
“I concur. It’s common sense that
fashion sense is better, look at where common sense got us.” Jokes Stacy
“See, I have both. Jenna.” Says
Ophelia, haughtily
Jenna rolls her eyes. “Let’s go.” As the exit the store, bag in Stacy’s hand, and
begin walking back.
“Now
that Stacy has her costume we can start our never ending magical mission to
spread love and help people!” says Ophelia excitedly
“Let’s try to keep that stuff to a
minimum, ok? I couldn’t focus on my work last night because of a certain
magical mission.” Says Jenna, coldly
“Yeah, me neither, I was so scared
about Stacy but now that I know she is ok I feel a lot better.” Says Ophelia
“It’s like you completely forgot about
what happened yesterday.” Says Jenna, seriously
“Well, that’s what you do when
something scary happens. You don’t think about it and you try to forget about
it and then it’s like it never even happened.” Says Ophelia, sincerely
“It would be nice if I could forget
about those things so easily, it’s times like these that having a photographic
memory is quite painful.” Says Jenna
“Drink some milk. It will help.” Says
Stacy, nonchalantly
Jenna frowns “Ok…” she says, “I don’t
know how that will help, but I’m willing to try anything at this point.” She
says
“It may sound weird, but I know how
serious the dog is about what he said. As much as I’m not proud of what I did,
when I look at my ring and it’s white, I am grateful for that, to be alive.
Keeping the ring white is a matter of life and death, so I’m not going to argue
with a dog that has a gun of fangs to my head. If I don’t do what he wants me
to do, I die. It’s that simple. If the dog is happy, I’m happy, because I’m
alive.” Says Stacy
“You know there are other ways to keep
it white.” Says Jenna
“Hopefully I can find some simple, easy
ways to do what he asked, but I can’t just wave my wand around or rub
somebody’s belly to keep my ring white like you two. I don’t know why, but what
we did yesterday really pleased Mr. Dog. My ring is still white 24 hours later,
when on the first day, not even 8 hours after getting it, it was red after only
doing some fortunetelling.” Says Stacy
“My ring is also still white, even
though we didn’t do any of that nice stuff yesterday.” Says Ophelia, quietly
“Same.” Says Jenna, a bit unhappy with
that fact
“Besides, they wouldn’t be white if we
didn’t do something good yesterday, so I find some solace in that.” Says Stacy
“I’ll try to do that. You’re right
about how the rings basically define our lives now; we are bound by Mr. Dog’s
desires and opinions.” Says Jenna
“You two are scaring me, what happened
to just using magic to help people and be nice?” Says Ophelia
“That might not be enough.” Says Stacy
“We just have to try harder.” Says
Ophelia, stand-offishly
“I’ll do my best.” Sighs Stacy “I want
to be able to keep it white in a cute, harmless way too, you know.” She says, regretfully
“I’ve got a bunch of work to do, so
maybe not today. They are still white, so I’m going to take advantage of that
and try to save face in my personal life. I’m not too happy about the whole
witch life thing, but I guess it doesn’t matter. Not at this point.” Says Jenna
“Sadly, we either play the hand we’re
dealt or we lose. Permanently.” Says Stacy grimly
“My hand is full of hearts, so it should
be easy for me to win.” Says Ophelia, cutely proud
“That’s good, I’m sure you have
homework to do, Ophelia, it is probably best that we head home. If we can’t
keep our personal lives in good order it will be much harder for us to maintain
our witch lives, and that would be bad.” Says Stacy
“Telling me to go home and do homework?
Did we leave with Stella by accident? Stacy would want to go on adventures and
have fun.” Teases Ophelia
“Give me a break; we had tons of fun
today. At least you did anyways.” Says Stacy
“I guess I’ll survive on my little
crumbs of fun for today.” Says Ophelia, pouting
“You know we have to have normal fun
sometimes too, even if just to keep up appearances.” Says Jenna
“You’re right, that’s a great idea.
Looks like we’ll have to double down on the amount of fun we have since we have
two lives now.” Says Ophelia, playfully
“Well, I’ve had enough fun for today. I
had a lot of other feelings that weren’t fun today so I’m going to wrestle with
those for a while. I’m going home, I’ll see you later.” Says Jenna
“Bye. See you tomorrow.” Says Ophelia
“Drink some milk, it will help!” says
Stacy
“You and your milk.” Says Jenna,
rolling her eyes as she walks away
“I’m going to head home too. I can’t
let anybody see me with this silly costume.” Says Stacy
“Lame. You owe me some fun.” Says
Ophelia
“Tomorrow, ok? Just normal every day
fun. We’ve got two lives to live, remember?” says Stacy
“Ok!” says Ophelia
“Be good, ok? This is where you and I
part ways.” Says Stacy
“Farewell, my Love Kitten.” Says
Ophelia playfully
“Don’t call me that.” Says Stacy
“Oh sorry, I didn’t mean to give away
your secret identity.” Says Ophelia as she winks
Stacy laughs “You’re lucky my ego is so
inflated I don’t need any self-respect.”
“I don’t know if that’s healthy.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m still alive, and I’ll be alive tomorrow. It seems to be working well
enough.” Says Stacy
“That’s true; I’m not really a doctor
anyways.” Says Ophelia
“Who would have guessed?” says Stacy as
she chuckles and walks away
Ophelia rolls her eyes and walks home.
Stacy arrives in front of her house;
the familiar smell comforts her as she walks in, her father on the couch.
“I’m home.” She says
“Here’s to that.” He says as he raises
his glass
“I didn’t expect you to be awake.” She
says
“Oh, I just woke up a minute ago.
Hopefully your sister cooks something good for supper; my whole body is killing
me.” He says
“ You should really take it easy.
There’s no point in going harder than you have to.” Says Stacy
“Yeah, I don’t know why. For some
reason last night was rough. Must have been some scary shit on TV or
something.” He says
“Yeah, maybe. Try to watch some happy things;
I don’t know if those war shows are good for you.” She says
“They’re great. The good guy always
wins. It’s like a fairy tale.” He says
“I guess you’re lucky you’re an
American.” She says
“That’s for damn certain. You are too,
hell, everybody is. I’m not ashamed to say it.” He says
“That’s good. Well, you enjoy then, ok?
I’m going upstairs.” She says
“Wilco.” He says, as Stacy walks
upstairs
Stacy puts the bag in the corner of her
room. Its presence reminds her of the new life she must live, something she
would rather not think about. She throws herself down on the bed and groans
softly.
She sighs, “Carpe Diem.” She whispers
to herself as she sits up for a moment before changing out of her school
clothes. She thinks about grabbing a book to read, but the bag catches her eye,
hauntingly, and she reluctantly acknowledges it. She goes downstairs.
“Dad, you know how something bad
happened to me yesterday, right?” she asks quietly
“Hrm, what? No, not really.” He says
“Well, it was pretty bad and I need to
ask you for a favor.” She says
“Sure, anything.” He says
“I know you have a gun, and I was just
thinking I should carry it when I go out in the city, for protection you know.”
She says
“What? Was it that bad, really?” he
asks, concerned
“Dad, I was shot at and almost raped
yesterday. Yes, it was that bad.” She says
“Oh Jesus, I’m sorry. Umm… yeah, that’s
probably a good idea. You are getting to be at that age where those things kind
of happen sometimes, I think.” He says
“Yeah…” she says softly, a bit confused
“I’m pretty sure it’s in this closet
over here.” He says as he gets up and slowly limps to the closet under the
stairs. He groans as he squats down and opens a shoebox. He looks at a black
handgun surrounded by miscellaneous things.
“There is is. I don’t know much about
guns, but I know that it is a gun.” He says
“Are you sure I can have it? You don’t
need your gun?” she asks, intimidated by the gun
“No. I don’t need it. I mean it’s not
even my gun.” He says
“Who’s gun is it?” asks Stacy
“Well, it was your mother’s gun. She
bought it to protect you two. She was always scared of things like that, like
what happened to you, or worse.” He said
“Oh.” Says Stacy softly
“You remember how your mother was, she
was always scared to death, sometimes of god knows what. It was pretty painful
to watch, seeing how I couldn’t do anything to help her. If it wasn’t criminals
and murderers it was demons and witches casting black magic on her. You
remember that sort of shit, right?” he says, with a bit of painful reservation
“Yeah, kind of. I remember her
screaming and crying sometimes, but she was really nice and happy a lot of the
time too.” She says, softly
“Yeah, she really loved you two. I’m
glad she had something that made her happy, her life was otherwise nothing but
torture, at least from what I could tell.” He says “I didn’t have any
objections to her buying this, because I’m stupid as shit I guess, but
eventually as she got sicker, well, you know what happened. She said she just
wanted the pain to stop.” He says, his voice growing weaker and speckled with
guilt, tearing up
“Yeah…” says Stacy
“I’m sure she would want you to have it
though. She bought it to protect you two, so if you need protection, by all
means take the gun. I would hate to lose you to some goddamn criminal.” He says
“Thanks.”
“I don’t know how to take care of a gun
or anything, but I’m sure you can learn online. I don’t know if that computer
works, I mean we don’t have internet, but you can go to a library I guess. Just
don’t do anything stupid with it, ok?” he says
“I won’t.” she says
“Good.” He says “It’s got a bunch of
knick-knacks in the box I’m pretty sure have something to do with the gun. Just
take the whole thing. Don’t bring it to school or anything though; I’m pretty
sure that’s illegal.”
“I’ll go try to learn the basics soon.
Like they say, protection can only protect you if you know how to use it.” She
says
“Atta girl. Help me up. That couch is
calling my name.” he says, stuck in a squatting position, Stacy grabs his hands
and pulls him up.
“Thanks again.” She says, softly
“Any time.” He says nonchalantly as he
limps back to the couch.
Stacy puts the lid on the box and brings it up to her room. She places the box
down on her desk and sits down. She inhales deeply as she takes the lid off of
the box. Picks up the gun and puts it on the table. She takes out the magazine
and bulls back the slide. A round jingles falls on her desk. She pulls the
trigger and then pulls down on the tabs on the side of the gun. She pulls the
slide off and takes out the barrel and the recoil spring. The sun shone through the window illuminating
the dried blood caked onto the frame and the slide around the muzzle which was
invisible in the darkness of the living room closet. Stacy takes a cleaning
patch, dips it in solvent, and begins to clean, tears welling up in her grim and
distanced face. When the patches became soaked with bloody solvent, she took
another, and did this until the gun was clean and the patches were white. She
took a deep breath and continued to clean the gun thoroughly and
professionally, the patches and brushes coming back more dirty with blood than
common residues. She finishes cleaning, reassembles and checks the
functionality of the unloaded gun. She takes the magazine, and pushes the
rounds out with her thumb. 15 of them fall onto the table. She disassembles and
cleans the magazine, reloads it, taking one bullet final from the shoebox and
inserting it before sliding the magazine into the gun. She puts the gun back
into the box, opens the drawer of her desk, and places the box quietly inside
and closes the drawer.
She closes her eyes and inhales deeply;
any calm to be gained was burned away by the smell of the sharp smell of the
solvent. She takes the bag full of bloody cloths out of the trashcan and takes
it outside. She comes back indoors and washes her hands in the kitchen sink,
goes upstairs and lies down on her bed. She stares at the celling as the
evening sun paints the room a golden orange. The mental exhaustion takes its
toll and she falls asleep.
The door creaks open, Stella walks into
the room.
“Welcome home.” Says Stacy, yawning
“I’m surprised you are alive.” Says
Stella, coldly and actually surprised
“I promised. You have a long day?” Says
Stacy, smiling
“It wouldn’t have been so bad if I
wasn’t worrying about you the entire time.” Says Stella, annoyed
“Come on, I told you not to worry.”
Says Stacy, sleepily
“Oh. That’s right. I’ll be sure to
drink some milk.” Says Stella, sarcastically
Stella undresses and starts to change
into comfortable clothes
“That uniform is killing me.” She says
“My thoughts exactly.” Says Stacy
“Don’t lay around in yours, it will get
wrinkled.” Scolds Stella
“Nothing ever changes, does it.” Says
Stacy
“I am upset with you, I don’t know what
you did, but I’m sure you did something. That smile, lying down on your bed,
it’s suspicious.” Says Stella, sternly
“Since when are smiles suspicious?”
says Stacy, playfully
“They are suspicious when they come
from you.” Says Stella
“I’m just a happy-go-lucky girl,
there’s nothing wrong with that.” Says Stacy, smiling, sitting up
“Your happiness is delusion and luck is
a fallacy. That makes the description rather accurate, a delusional girl with
faith in fallacy.” Says Stella,
“I’d rather stick with the common turn
of phrase. There’s a reason people don’t put it like that.” Says Stacy
“The common man is not renowned for his
intelligence.” Says Stella
“Neither is the sheep, but both of them
still manage to keep themselves alive every day.” Says Stacy
“Domesticated animals are kept alive by
their shepherds to serve the interests of those who control them. It’s less
that they manage to keep themselves alive than someone else manages to keep
them alive.” Says Stella
“You talking about men or sheep?” jokes
Stacy
“Both.” Says Stella
“There are wild sheep you know.” jokes
Stacy
Stella laughs “Go change and get ready
to eat. I’m just cooking leftovers.” She says
“Fine.” Says Stacy as she gets up and
changes, Stella sits down on her bed
“What’s in the bag?” asks Stella,
cautiously, concerned, after she notices the plastic bag in the corner
Stacy sighs, “Well, it’s the
culmination of all of the mistakes I’ve made this week up to this point.”
“Now you are scaring me again.” She
says as she walks over to the bag and pulls out the dress
“It might not be your crowning mistake,
but it is certainly up there near the top. Why would you buy this, it looks
ridiculous?” asks Stella, smirking
“That’s the point.” Says Stacy, rubbing
her neck.
Stella drapes the dress on her bed and
pulls out the cat ears and glasses. “You certainly drove the point home with
these.” chuckling
“Good.” Says Stacy
“Good? Why would you ever dress like
this?” asks Stella, baffled
“I wouldn’t, that’s the point.” Says
Stacy
“I don’t get it.” Says Stella
“It’s my disguise, it may be stupid but
it’s all I could afford. Thankfully Ophelia bought me the other parts so I’ve
got something to work with.” Says Stacy
“Why do you need a disguise, again?”
asks Stella, confused
Stacy raises her hand and points at her
the ring
“This. This is why I need a disguise.”
Says Stacy
“Not the fucking mood ring again. God
damn it.” Says Stella, suddenly upset
“You may not understand how serious
this is but you will soon enough. That is why I really need you to keep this
little disguise a secret.” Says Stacy
“I couldn’t bear to even start on the
story of the crazy girl and her mood ring, so needless to say nobody will be
hearing about this chapter of the saga from me.” Says Stella, sarcastic and
still upset
“Good.” Says Stacy, seriously
“I was doing alright for a minute but
now you’ve caused my head to start spinning again. Let me just lather my body
in your liquid insanity so I can be happy and carefree like you.” Says Stella,
with a feignedly crazy voice fluctuating between sarcasm and seriousness and
spinning in circles, she grabs Stacy’s hands and rubs them on self. “Oh, it’s
working, it’s really working!”
“At least I’m getting a show; usually
you just get upset with me.” Says Stacy
“I cannot comprehend your state of mind in the
slightest so I am simply choosing not to try to do so at all. Why bother
comprehending anything? This abandonment of my thought processes truly is
bliss!” says Stella, enthralled by fanciful facetiousness
“So you’ve finally resolved the paradox
and realized that ignorance is the only true form of enlightenment.” Says Stacy
sarcastically
“Oh Stacy, how could I have been blind
to your wisdom the entire time. How could I have been so foolish?” asks Stella
“I know you’re being silly, but please
don’t tell anyone. I know you don’t like to lie but a lot of bad things could
happen if you don’t.” says Stacy
“It’s not lying when I am genuinely
incredulous, so don’t worry about my disdain for lying. Let’s just pretend that
this profound nonsense doesn’t happen, and never happened, so we can live our
normal lives.” Says Stella, still spinning around and lightheartedly feigning
insanity
“That was exactly what I was hoping
for.” Says Stacy
“Good. That’s exactly what I’m going to
do.” Says Stella
“Well, I will continue on in my
incredulity” says Stella as she takes a deep breath, looks at Stacy in the eyes
and smiles “You really should hang up the dress, it is not something I would
wear, but you should still respect your clothes.” Says Stella back to her
normal voice
“Wow… Ok.” Says Stacy as she grabs a
hangar out of her closet and hangs up the dress
“I actually kind of want to see you
wear it.” Says Stella, giggling
“You really don’t want to see me in the
dress.” Says Stacy seriously
“I think I do, it’s quite cute.” Says
Stella playfully
“This dress will give you nightmares.”
Says Stacy
“It’s not that bad.” Says Stella
“It’s not the dress. It’s the person in
the dress.” Says Stacy with a grim tone
Stella breathes a deep breath and
grimaces with wide eyes, looking at the ground, before looking back up at Stacy
with a weak smile
“Well when you put it like that, let’s
just see you in the dress for a moment so we can appreciate the dress for its
own merits before the person in the dress decides to be a living nightmare
while wearing it, ok?” says Stella as she slaps her thighs, insanity creeping
back into her eyes
“Fine.” Says Stacy as she rolls her
eyes, changes out of her clothes and puts on the dress
Stella starts laughing heartily
“Complete… the look.” She says between her laughs
“Really?” says Stacy
“Do it!” screams Stella, quite
entertained. Stacy puts the accessories on, and Stella burst into another level
of laughter, rolling on her bed.
“Ok, you’ve had your fun. We’re done.”
Says Stacy, upset with herself as she changes back into her clothes
“Thank you… for that.” Says Stella, out
of breath but still laughing softly
“Who would have thought you would pick
out such a girly costume. That’s the real reason it was so funny, you would
never dress like that. I had to enjoy it while I could.” Says Stella, wiping
her eye
“Nobody will think that I did, and
that’s why nobody will think it’s me.” Says Stacy
“With an outfit like that people will
just hope they are hallucinating. What is your costume name anyways.” Says
Stella
“Kitty…” says Stacy, smirking a bit.
Stella starts cackling again
“God damn it, I shouldn’t be laughing,
it’s like watching burning clowns crawl out of a terrible clown car crash or
something. I would say I am ambivalent but I’m repressing the bad feelings.”
Says Stella
“That’s good.” Says Stacy
“No it’s not.” Says Stella, still
laughing, wiping a tear from her eye
“I’m sorry about all this, I really am.
I want to just be able to forget about all of it.” Says Stacy
“Let’s do that. That sounds really
nice.” Says Stella, catching her breath, “Let both wake up from this terrible
nightmare and realize that it was just a dream the whole time.”
“It’s not all bad; at least I made you
laugh. It’s not like that happens every day.” Kids Stacy
“I really shouldn’t be laughing, but
sometimes you just feel so sick and hopeless and helpless that laughing is all
you can do.” Says Stella
“I’ll try to keep you happy somehow;
you know laughter is the best medicine.” Says Stacy
“It helps, I’ll be honest. It’s just
what the doctor ordered. Laughing helps you let go, all the seriousness and
tension of the day just slips away as you come to terms with the sickening
nature of life and allows you to embrace the futility of trying to change a god
damn thing about it. It kind of feels like being an old person coming to terms
with your own death, you just come to accept it as inevitable and have
exhausted yourself trying to wrestle with that fact to the point where you just
give up. There is solace in powerlessness, it wipes the guilt off of your face
and embraces you as if you were a small crying child.” Says Stella
“That was so deep, I don’t know if I
should throw you a rope or something.” Says Stacy
“Please do, it is dark and depressing
in here.” Says Stella
Stacy imitates a mime throwing a rope.
“You missed. Say something and your
voice will guide me to your enlightened nirvana of bliss. Introspection has
sadly become an act of masochism for me. It is nothing but death and misery,
this is a deep hole I am in, and you’ve helped me dig it.” Says Stella
Stacy sings the first line of the
chorus from Don’t Fear the Reaper
Stella looks at Stacy expectantly,
pleading with her eyes for more
Stacy finishes the chorus.
“I needed that.” Says Stella
“We’re in the same boat now?” asks
Stacy
“I don’t really have a choice, do I?”
asks Stella
“No.” says Stacy distantly “No you do
not.”
“That’s what I thought.” Says Stella
The girls sit in silence for a while,
looking at each other.
“So it’s back to business as usual?”
“I’ll try, even if our house is burning
down with us inside of it.” Says Stella
“At least the fire will keep us warm.”
Says Stacy
“That’s not the way house fires work
but ok.” Says Stella
“What happened to optimism?” asks
Stacy, sincerely
“That’s an extreme level of optimism.”
Says Stella
“It doesn’t hurt to look on the bright
side of life.” Says Stacy, smiling
“Enjoying spending time in a burning
building is more so along the lines of masochism than optimism, but let’s go
with optimism. It sounds better.” Says Stacy
“Maybe I’m a firefighter.” Says Stacy
“Last time I checked you would be
closer to an arsonist.” Says Stella
“At least I’m trying to fight it.” Says
Stacy
“The logic of starting a fire, fighting
it, and then claiming you are somehow not responsible for the fire. That makes
enough sense.”
“Chart topping logic, I believe.” Says
Stacy
“Well, this isn’t helping me repress my
memories, so let’s go eat, shall we?” asks Stella
“I’ll pour you a nice glass of milk and
you can forget all about it.” Says Stacy
“Milk does not have the natural ability
to induce amnesia, I regret to inform you.” Says Stella
“You need more faith.” Says Stella
“I don’t know how you could even
discover that faith, let alone adhere to it.” Says Stella
“Milk is delicious. I think it has even
more grounds than any religion on earth.” Says Stacy
“I would argue that it has the exact
same grounds as any religion on earth.” Says Stella
“I’m glad you are willing to accept
that milk has the same degree of divine power that gods do. It’s a step in the
right direction.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think I took a step in any
direction. It’s a matter of faith, remember.” Says Stella, dryly
“Well, at least you let my dog in the
race, that’s a start.” Says Stacy
“I’ll be sure to enjoy watching that
one when they let the dogs loose.” Says Stella sarcastically
“I’m telling you, put some money on my
dog, milk is a dark horse but I know she can win easily.” Says Stella
“I’ll take your word for it.” says
Stella, sarcastically as they get up and head downstairs to eat. The girls
enter the kitchen and Stella microwave a bowl of soup leftover from the other
day. She pours half into a second bowl, puts a spoon in it and gives it to her
sister. “Dig in.” she says
Stacy eats it “This hits the spot.
Comfort food.” She says
“Anything is comfort food to you.” Says
Stella
“What can I say, it is comforting.”
Says Stacy, Stella eats
“How was your student council stuff?”
says Stacy
“Well for some unknown reason we were
focused on safety, we talked about having an assembly but decided against it.
We didn’t want to scare everybody.” Says Stella
“That’s good. Scare the herd and you
might get a stampede.” Says Stacy
“How was your club, plenty of leaning
undoubtedly?” Says Stella
“I just did my homework; we met this
hyper girl who wants to be some kind of detective.” Says Stacy
“I see you really are enthusiastic
about helping the animals.” Says Stella sarcastically
“Ophelia signed us up to volunteer at
the shelter this weekend. So long as she’s calling the shots I’ll be helping
the animals whether or not I’m enthusiastic about it.” Says Stacy
“Wow, Stacy caring about the wellbeing
of things besides herself for once, how nice.” Says Stella
“Hey now, I wasn’t the one who
volunteered, I just had my name thrown in that hat. It’s not like I can object
if I’m a part of that club anyways.” Says Stacy
“Every time I try to compliment any
tiny facet your character you find a way to strike me down, it’s amazing.” says
Stella
“Humility is a virtue.” Says Stacy
“If somebody washed the dirt off of
your face you would just go rub more dirt on it. That’s your version of
humility.” jokes Stella
“I wouldn’t want anybody to get the
wrong idea. It’s easy to keep up appearances if you don’t put much effort into
it in the first place.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure that is called
shamelessness.” Says Stella
“It’s called the path of least
resistance. It would be shameless if I didn’t try at all.” Says Stacy
“You are so economical about exerting
any sort of effort, it’s almost admirable.” Says Stella
“I’m so concerned about saving energy
they could make me the Secretary of Energy.” Says Stacy
“I’m surprised you even know that
exists.” Says Stella
“I just took a guess, there are so many
Secretary of so-and-so’s in the White House, I figured there would probably be
one for energy.” Says Stacy
“I am no longer surprised.” Says Stella
“Sometimes the truth is a just big letdown.”
Says Stacy
“You realize you are the one
responsible for creating the truth in question, right?” says Stella
“I’m just going to blame the system
like everybody else, it’s their fault I am so unmotivated and indifferent to
education.” Says Stacy
“What an astute observation, clearly
the system is what is responsible for one’s own actions and decision making.”
Says Stella, sarcastically
“I am a product of their education,
which means my knowledge is simply an emulation of what I have been taught. In
other words, I wouldn’t have these sentiments if they didn’t teach them to me.”
says Stacy
“I can’t think of a time that anyone’s
lessons had any capability of trumping the merit of any whim or sentiment that
you happened to derive by your own free will, let alone a single time when you
took those lessons to heart.” Says Stella, still sarcastic
“You’re right; I am giving them too
much credit.” Says Stacy
“You say that like you aren’t shifting
the culpability from their shoulders onto yours.” Says Stella
“Who said anything about culpability;
I’m just taking credit for my own enlightenment. My level of thinking has
soared beyond the rigid box of systematic education.” Says Stacy
“You might be mixing up delusion and
thinking right there.” Says Stella
“Well, they both come from the same
place, so we’re talking oranges and oranges.” Says Stella
“We are talking about oranges and
orange tree leaves.” Says Stella
“You make me glad I’m not eating leaves
all day.” Says Stacy
“You will one day wonder why those
oranges you are eating haven’t prevented scurvy when everyone that was eating
the leaves is doing just swell.” Says Stella
“At least I get to eat the delicious
oranges though.” Says Stacy
“Mmm, delicious, green, leafy,
oranges.” Says Stella
“You’re smart, you know that. A lot of
people think that the round orange ones taste the best, clearly these people
are mistaken. The green leafy oranges are the tastiest.” Says Stacy
“You are forgetting about the
nutritional aspects of the allegory.” Says Stella
“I drink milk. I’ll be fine.” Says
Stacy
“What exactly is this allegorical milk?
You lost me.” Says Stella
“The life-giver, the will to live, the
majesty and wonder, the spirit of innovation and ingenuity.” Says Stacy
“You amaze me sometimes.” Says Stella
“It’s all about faith. I’m telling
you.” Says Stacy
“Do you pray to the milk god every day
or something?” asks Stella
“I pray multiple times a day,
religiously.” Says Stacy
“Really?” says Stella in playful
disbelief
“Yes. You take the glass of milk, you
raise it to your lips, and imbibe the holy sacrament. Then you are blessed.”
Says Stacy
“You really take this seriously, don’t
you?” says Stella
“I am a missionary trying to spread the
knowledge of the one true goddess.” Says Stacy
“Keep doing the lords work.” Say
Stella, sarcastically
“Do not stray from the light. Put your
faith in that which is white, creamy, and delicious.” Says Stacy
Stella rolls her eyes as the girls
finish eating and clean up. They head upstairs.
Stacy falls down on her bed. Stella
sits down and unpacks her things and begins to do work.
“I feel bad watching you do homework.”
Says Stacy
“It should be inspiring. Maybe you
could use this extra time you have to study.” Says Stella
“I could use this time to smash my
fingers with a hammer too, you know.” Says Stacy
“I’m certainly not going to get in the
way of wholesome fun like that, now.” Says Stella
“I’ll go get the hammer.” Jokes Stacy
“Knock yourself out.” Says Stella
unentertained, focusing on her work
“I’m so bored. I guess I’ll read a
book.” Says Stacy
“Not the crazy book, please.” Says
Stella, still focusing on her work
“I’ll read one about talking animals.”
Says Stacy
“I thought talking animals were the
reason we are in a living hell right now.” Says Stella
“Science fiction it is.” Says Stacy
pulling out a book
“Good choice.” Says Stella
Stella works while Stacy reads,
fighting off boredom with boredom.
“I don’t even know why I got this;
dad’s books are always the most boring: nothing but military jargon and sexual
tension. The only discernable difference between them is the level of aliens,
Nazis, or Nazi aliens.” Says Stacy
“At least somebody reads them, you know
he doesn’t.” says Stella
“I’ve seen him crack a book a few
times.” Says Stacy
“It takes more than cracking a book a
few times to actually read a book. I wonder why he even buys them.” Says Stella
“He just gets them from the used
bookstore down the street for a quarter sometimes; he used to do it more often.
I don’t know. I could take pride in having a nice collection of books. It’s
like having a bunch of cool cars in your driveway.” Says Stella
“What’s the point in having the cars if
you don’t drive?” asks Stella
“It’s a status symbol; people see your
sports car and assume you drive 100 miles per hour on the freeway weaving in
and out of traffic. It doesn’t matter if you do it or not, it gets the image
across regardless.” Says Stacy
“You think he buys them just to impress
the shopkeeper?” asks Stella
“Well, being known as an crippled,
drunk, avid reader sounds a lot better than crippled drunk illiterate, don’t
you think?” says Stacy
“I see you didn’t fall far from the
tree, you care more about what you’re known as than what you really are.” Says
Stella
“Well, in reality, what you are known
as is what you effectively are in the eyes of other people; they don’t know the
difference because they don’t spend enough time with you to know who you really
are.” Says Stacy
“You take pride in being a sham?” asks
Stella
“I take pride in being a salesperson,
if I can sell a $5,000 dollar car for $7,000; I’m good at my job.” Says Stacy
“So you are a sham and a swindler.”
Says Stella
“Stella, in the real world, everybody
is either a sham, a swindler, both, or a slave who is taken advantage of by one
of the first three types.” Says Stacy
“That’s pretty cynical. You put
everybody into those groups?” asks Stella
“Well I don’t do it, no, that would be
a lot of work to analyze and sort billions of people individually, but I have
enough faith in my pattern recognition skills to assert that argument.” Says
Stacy
“I would argue, but sadly I am not
studying Applied Cynicism right now, maybe later we can have this debate.” Says
Stella
“The floor is always open. Nothing
stirs me like a healthy debate.” Says Stacy
“You really like debate? I don’t think
you even understand the concept given your tendency to throw out baseless
generalizations and presumptions than anything based on fact or evidence.” asks
Stella
“The thing that attracts me, is that in
a debate, you are never supposed to change your mind or give any concession to
whoever you are arguing against, you basically presume that your argument is a
fact and are obligated to defend it no matter how brutally it is maimed and
dismembered by your opponent. If you slip up even a little bit, you lose the
debate. It’s a great way to approach life.” Says Stacy
“The point of debate is to hear the
other side of an argument and come to a decision after both sides have been
heard. You got the first part of it, but you missed the actual reason why the
debates are held in the first place.” Says Stella
“That is the difference between
debating out of sport, or for practical reasons. I debate solely out of pride
and self-respect, I just want to hear myself talk and assert my authority on
the matter, if I give any respect to the other party’s viewpoint, it’s
basically like I’m being talked-down to, I can’t accept that.” Says Stacy
“You realize that mentality is the
plague of modern politics.” Says Stella
“That’s not true. It would be the
plague if there were somehow people in politics that were infested with this
plague virus, but that is not the case. Politicians are simply the human
incarnations of the actual plague virus, and that is why they are called to
serve their respective parties. Arguing otherwise would be like saying that
water gets wet when you throw water on it, which is simply not the case.” Says
Stacy
“You’re funny, you know that?” asks
Stella
“Funny, smart, beautiful, amazing, I
know, don’t flatter me.” Says Stacy playfully
“I’ll let you get away with that, for
now. You know nuclear bombs are amazing, the meteorite that killed the
dinosaurs was beautiful, and some of the evilest people in the world are smart
right?”
“Yes, but I’m also funny on top of all
that, so it can’t be that bad.” Says Stacy
“It would be exactly that bad, but also
funny at the same time, which could easily make it worse.” Says Stella
“Stella the sourpuss thinks funny
things are worse than unfunny things, better not crack any jokes, she will
scold you.” Teases Stacy
“Be quiet. I’ve got to study.” Says
Stella
Stacy giggles to herself and goes back
to reading her book. Eventually she gets up and brushes her teeth, Stella
follows suit.
“I’m going to sleep. Don’t disappear in
the middle of the night, ok?” Says Stella
“Ok.” Says Stacy, sarcastically
“You don’t know how serious I am.” Says
Stella
“Fine, fine. I wans’t going to do
anything anyways. My ring is still white, see?” says Stacy
“Don’t show me that god damn mood ring
ever again. That thing opens the Pandora’s box of fear and insanity in my
mind.” Says Stella, upset
“Sorry, sorry. Forget about the ring.”
Says Stacy
“I’m going to drink some cold water,
take some deep breaths, and try to hold onto the last remaining fragments of my
sanity.” Says Stella as she goes to the bathroom
“Drink milk. It will help.” Says Stacy
“Good night!” says Stella sternly as
she walks out the door
“Focus on the good part, optimism,
remember!” says Stacy
Stella scoffs quietly in a hopeless
manner and flips off the light switch on the door.
The happy sun smiles as it peeks
through the window of the girl’s bedroom. The rays tickle Stacy’s face, the
warm radiation the product of painless meaningless entropy, an ominous omen of
the inevitable deterioration and eventual death of all living things, its
pleasant warmth symbolic of the pleasure the live-giving star takes in
showering the planet in sunshine. Taking such pleasure in giving rise to
cognizant mortal beings because without such a vessel to experience pain and
suffering there would be no accursed fetish that allows the sun to relish and
cherish the savory taste of the incessant sadism it inflicts upon all those
cursed with the cancer of cognizance, cognizance itself a cancer within the
cancer that has sadly stricken the void known as existence. The sun was happy,
if only because it had someone to share in its own suffering.
“Stacy, wake up or I’ll come wake you
up.” Says Stella
“I could use a good wake-up call.” Says
Stacy, yawning
“Even God would be incapable of giving
you the wake-up call you need, but that’s beside the point.” Says Stella
“I won’t argue with that.” Says Stacy
as she gets out of bed and changes into her uniform
“There’s half a bowl of oatmeal
downstairs for you. Eat that and let’s go.” Says Stella, impatiently
Stella grumbles and goes downstairs,
pours herself some milk and eats the oatmeal quickly.
“You had all of the time in the world
and you didn’t take a bath last night.” Says Stella
“What can I say, I’m European.” Says
Stacy
“Sometimes I can forget how cultured
you are.” Says Stella, sarcastically
“I am a worldly girl, what can I say.”
Says Stacy
“The only parts of a culture you are
willing to embrace are its excuses not to do something.” Says Stella
“The excuses are the best part. I would
travel the world, collect all of the excuses.” Says Stacy
“What would you do then?” asks Stella
“As little as possible, I would have
every excuse known to man, and it’s no longer because I’m lazy, but because I’m
cultured. I would write a book about it.” Says Stacy
“Sounds like a Pulitzer prize winning
book you have in the works.” Says Stella
“More like a Nobel peace prize. It
would bring the world together.” Says Stacy
“Winning the Nobel peace prize for
doing literally nothing, that is a noble dream” says Stella
“Peace and nothing are pretty similar
after all.” Says Stacy
“The more that I think about it, you
may actually be able to win the Nobel peace prize if you manage to do nothing
for an entire year.” Says Stella
“I din do nuffin.” says Stacy, feigning
a grimy city accent
“Already practicing your acceptance
speech for the Bay City Peace Prize, I see.”
“I can already hear the crowd going
wild.” Says Stacy
“It’s a shame that international merits
have much higher standards than Bay City.” Says Stella
“Indeed it is… indeed it is.” Says Stacy,
she goes to pour herself another glass of milk and drinks it
“That hits the spot. I feel like I
could take on the world.” Says Stacy
“Let’s start with your personal
responsibilities, and afterwards we can move onto the world.” Says Stella
“I’m ready for school, what more can
you ask for?” asks Stacy
“And so a journey of a thousand miles
begins with a single step.” Says Stella
“So shall we walk together to school,
and enjoy our journey together?” says Stacy
“Sadly, I would have to say I am about
a thousand miles ahead of you right now in regards to that.” Says Stella
Stacy sings the chorus of The
Proclaimers – I’m Gonna Be, marching around the kitchen, swinging her arms
merrily in step
“You better mean the words you are
singing.” Says Stella
“I do.” Says Stacy, playfully
“Then we should go to school.” Says
Stella
The girls walk towards the door.
“Bye dad. Don’t die.” Says Stacy
“I’ve weathered the storm so far, kid,
I’d reckon I’m pretty damn good at weathering storms at this point.” He says
“Bye dad.” Says Stella
“Have fun now.” He says
“I always do. I don’t know about Stella
though.” Says Stacy as they walk out the door
“You scare me sometimes.” Says Stella
“That’s better than all the time though
right?” says Stacy
“I take it back; you scare me all the
time.” Says Stella
“Fear is the primordial instinct that
perpetuates the survival of animals. It’s healthy.” Says Stacy
“You realize that a deer shouldn’t fear
death when it sees another deer, right?” says Stella
“But I’m a lioness; of course you
should fear me. It’s about mutual respect.” Says Stacy
“So you also fear me?” says Stella
“You are like an authoritarian dictator
when it comes to school work you know, that’s scary.” Says Stacy
“I’ll be sure to include plenty of
schoolwork in the next haunted house the school puts together.” Says Stella
“Hey now, the people just want to have
fun, don’t try to give them a heart attack.” Says Stacy
“You don’t remember what happened the
other day do you.” Says Stella
“I do, but what I’m saying is, you can
wash blood off pretty easily, you can never wash a bad mark off of your
records.” Says Stacy
“That is an extraordinarily disturbing
thing to say.” Says Stella
“Poor grades are a fate worse than
death; they damn you to a life of misery and torture due to your extremely low
level of employability and thus economic stability and mobility.” Says Stacy
“Your wisdom seems to be reflected in
the criminality of the impoverished in our country.” Says Stella
“My point exactly, people would rather
risk their lives then suffer such a painful meaningless existence.” Says Stacy
“Then let us focus on our schoolwork so
we aren’t contemplating the risk/reward ratio of a life of crime.” Says Stella
“Sounds like a plan.” Says Stacy
“Good.” Says Stella
The girls approach the gates swirling
with uniformed uniformity and part ways. Stacy arrives in class, her friends
already there, Stacy one of the last to arrive.
“You are always cutting it so close,
Stacy. It doesn’t give a good impression.” Says Ophelia
“I’ve still got the skin of my teeth,
so I’m not concerned.” Says Stacy
“What?” asks Ophelia
“Well, when she skins my teeth I guess
that’ll be the day when I’ll learn my lesson.” Says Stacy
“You are weird.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sorry, I’ve been spending too much
time with my sister, I’m still stuck speaking in the highfalutin jargon I use
to combat her sword of seriousness.” Says Stacy
“That makes more sense. I just wouldn’t
argue with her to begin with.” Says Ophelia
“You are wise beyond your years.” Says
Stacy
“Thanks. I wish more people could see
that.” Says Ophelia
“Wisdom and intelligence tend to be at
arms with each other, this den of vehement education is not the place where
your mind can truly be appreciated.” Says Stacy
“It’s good I’m both wise and
intelligent then.” Says Ophelia
“Armed with both blade and gun, you
truly are wise. There will come a day when the guns run out of bullets, and
that is when you shall be bathed in glory.” Says Stacy
“Yeah, kind of like world peace or
something. I can see that. You still sound pretty highfalutin though.” Says
Ophelia
“Sorry, sorry.” Says Stacy
The teacher starts to play jazz
trombone with her voice, occasionally a student joins in with an improvisational
solo. Stacy just sits back and enjoys the show. The school day’s serenade is
melancholy and serious, but can easily be appreciated none the less. The mallet
strikes the vibraphone and sounds the final note, and thus the concert has
concluded, and lunch has begun.
The girls grab the rations that fuel
the capitalist’s child soldiers of fortune as they train for the lifelong war
that will inevitably kill them and head to their table.
“Now that Stacy has her costume, we
should definitely go out and do real magic this afternoon.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not wearing that thing unless it’s
a dire necessity.” Says Stacy
“Yeah, I think we should just do normal
stuff today, we have to live a normal life sometimes.” Says Jenna
“You are squandering a great
opportunity, you guys. Think about all of the people we could help.” Says
Ophelia
“If we can’t think of anything better
to do, I would just go along to watch you both. I might not do anything but
it’s fairly entertaining just watching.” Says Stacy
“Stacy, you have to learn to use your
powers. That’s the only way you will be able to help people.” Says Ophelia
“I know how to use them. It is not
pretty.” Says Stacy
“Yeah, maybe take it easy on Stacy’s
powers today. I don’t even want to think about the last time, let alone repeat
it.” Says Jenna
“The first time she saved somebodys
life or something with her fortune telling.” Says Ophelia
“I might have kept somebody out of
jail, and that really didn’t do much to keep the wolf happy.” Says Stacy
“You just didn’t do enough, you have
the power to help everybody, you know.” Says Ophelia
“The thing is, everybody doesn’t need
help. Most people are doing just dandy without me, and there’s nothing I can do
for the most part. Most people either don’t have any problems or they have
problems that can’t be solved with soothsaying.” Says Stacy
“That does make your job difficult.”
Says Jenna, grimly
“I’ll just let you guys do your thing,
if there is by some odd chance somebody I can help I’ll try to do it. I’m not
wearing that damn costume though.” Says Stacy
“Lame. With that attitude you will
never become a true love witch.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not the love witch, you are,
remember?” says Stacy
“Aren’t we all love witches?” asks
Ophelia
“No, I am the helpful witch.” Says
Jenna
“I am just a psychic, I can’t even
transform.” Says Stacy
“Yes you can, we learned that
yesterday, you turn into our little love kitten.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll let you call me Kitty, but I’ll
be damned if I’m the love kitten.” Says Stacy, dryly
“No Stacy, I am Blaze the Love Witch,
Jenna is Raven the Helpful Witch, and you are Kitty, our Love Kitten. It even
matches your costume, so you can’t complain.” Says Ophelia
“I can easily complain.” Says Stacy
“Well, you can’t change it.” Says
Ophelia
“Just don’t call me that unless I am in
costume, ok?” says Stacy
“That makes sense.” Says Jenna
“Just hearing that name makes me want
to live a normal life forever and forget about all of this nonsense.” Says
Stacy
“Well you can’t. You made a promise to
Mr. Dog.” Says Ophelia
“Don’t remind me.” Says Stacy
“Our rings are still white; we could
just do normal things this afternoon.” Says Jenna
“Don’t you think a doctor should want
to help people because he actually cares about them, not just so he can put
food on the table? Why just survive, when we can flourish?” says Ophelia
“We can figure it out later. Let’s not
worry about it. We still have to row our merry ship through the sleepy waters
of Animal Club.” Says Stacy
“It’s more of a tropical paradise.”
Says Ophelia
“Speaking of which, we should go.” Says
Jenna
The bell rings and the girls head to
their club. Schoolgirls enter the room in their respective posses, the three do
so as unremarkably as the rest and take their seats in the back. Stacy yawns,
Aurelia approaches the front.
“Today I would usually try to get
people to start volunteering for door to door charity work, but recent events
made that sound a bit less tempting than usual. Instead, we will just do normal
Animal Club stuff, so basically, whatever you want to do. Try to do something
related to animals, yes; I am looking at you Sloan.” Says Aurelia
“I am an animal, so that door is wide
open isn’t it.” Says Sloan, sarcastically
“Maybe try an animal that isn’t Sloan
today, ok?” says Aurelia
“But Sloan is my favorite animal.” Says
Sloan
“I like Sloan too, but there are other
animals out there.” Says Aurelia
“I can thumb through a magazine if it
means that much to you.” Says Kelly
“That would be wonderful. We wouldn’t want
to set a bad example now, would we?” asks Aurelia
“Of course not.” Says Sloan,
sarcastically
“Ok. Animal Club is now in session!”
says Aurelia
“Yay.” Says Sloan, in a drab monotone
The girls all find things to entertain
themselves. Jenna studies and Ophelia envelops her mind with the animals. Stacy
stares out into space.
“You’re not going to do anything?” asks
Jenna
“I’m trying to learn to sleep with my
eyes open.” Says Stacy
“Why?” asks Ophelia
“If you’re asleep the time just
disappears and then it will be time to leave.” Says Stacy
“You know the time will just disappear
if you have fun.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll try that.” Says Stacy,
sarcastically
The three pass the time as best they
can. Two unremarkable girls from the club approach them.
“You’re Jenna, right?” asks the shorter
one of them
“Yeah, you’re Isabelle, from math class
right?” asks Jenna
“Wow, you’re good at names. I only
remember yours because the teacher calls on you so much. This is my friend Grace.”
Jokes Isabelle
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Says
Jenna
“It’s kind of boring here, so we were
wondering if we could hang out with you guys.” Says Isabelle
“That’s a wonderful idea, welcome
aboard. I’m Stacy and I’ll be your captain. The more hands on deck the faster
we can row out of these doldrums and into fair winds.” She jokes
The girls laugh and sit down.
“What do you guys do here?” asks
Isabelle
“Well, Jenna studies, Ophelia
fantasizes about animals, and I serve my time in purgatory. It’s not a bad
deal.” Says Stacy
“You’re not big on the animals?” asks
Isabelle
“Not in particular, did either of you
join for that reason?” asks Stacy
“I like animals, it’s just I would
rather chat than read a book. School is too much reading already.” Says
Isabelle
“I just look at the pictures and think
up my own stories for the animals. I’m Ophelia by the way” Says Ophelia
“That’s cute. I just kind of follow
Isabelle around, but I like animals for the most part.” Says Grace
“So what else do you spend time doing?
I’m sure it’s not animals all the time.” Asks Isabelle
“Oh, what? Normal things.” Says Stacy,
a bit surprised
“Yeah, just really normal things.” Says
Jenna, distantly
“Love. Mainly love. That’s what I do.”
Says Ophelia
“You’re a lover, eh?” asks Grace
“Of course, love is the meaning of
life. That’s why this club called to me so much.” Says Ophelia
“You must really love animals.” Says
Isabelle
“They are just so perfect and
beautiful. It’s hard not to.” Says Ophelia
“It’s true.” Says Grace
“Normal things is pretty broad, isn’t
it?” asks Isabelle
“What? No, super normal, so normal it’s
boring.” Says Stacy
“You strike me as someone a bit more
interesting than that.” Says Isabelle
“Maybe you’re right; I’ve been meaning
to spice it up lately. Now that we’re in high school we should be doing some
mature things. Not just playing around or hanging out.” Says Stacy
“You want to be mature?” asks Isabelle
“You’ve always looked up to my
maturity, haven’t you?” asks Ophelia
“The only reason I look up to you is
because you are taller than me.” Says Stacy, dryly
“What sort of normal mature things do
you want to do?” asks Jenna, hesitantly
“I’ll have to think of something. Real
classy.” Says Stacy
“There’s a coffee shop a few blocks
from here, that’s pretty mature.” Says Isabelle
“I’ve never been, but it sounds like a
delightful time.” Says Jenna
“We should go sometime. It would be
cool.” Says Grace
“Super normal too, that’s just my
thing.” Says Stacy
“Is that some insecurity I feel? You
know it’s a lot harder to be abnormal than it is to be normal, people don’t
cast judgement that easily.” Says Isabelle
“Yeah, you might be right.” Says Stacy,
rubbing her neck “It must be the whole new school anxiety and trying to fit in
and stuff.”
“Just relax and enjoy yourself, you
come off as a pretty cool girl you know.” Says Grace
“Thanks.” Says Stacy
“She is just insecure about her size;
she is so small it makes her feel vulnerable.” Teases Ophelia
“You would be insecure about the size
of your brain if your brain was large enough to be capable of doing so.” Says
Stacy
“Well, I’m glad it’s not. Who would
want to feel insecure.” retorts Ophelia, Grace giggles.
“Actually, the size of a brain is
proportional to a person’s body, so Ophelia would actually have a larger brain
than you Stacy.” Says Jenna
“Wow, you see that, even Jenna thinks
I’m smarter than you.” Says Ophelia
“I didn’t say that.” Says Jenna,
grimacing awkwardly
“What?” asks Ophelia
“Well, by using that logic a bull would
be smarter than a dog and an elephant would be smarter than a person, which is
simply not the case.” Says Jenna
“Ouch. I could feel that one burn from
over here.” Says Stacy
“Well, an elephant never forgets, so
I’m ok with that.” Says Ophelia
“Stacy you’ve got a lot of fight for
such a small girl.” Says Isabelle
“My sister calls me Icarus with wings
of pride and ego.” Says Stacy
“That’s kind of bad, but beautiful at
the same time.” Says Grace
“I’ll tell you why it’s not bad, it’s
because I’ve learned from his mistakes, I simply enjoy my ability to fly a
great deal without going too close to the sun. They teach you those stories for
a reason, you’re expected to learn from them.” says Stacy
“Just be careful ok? I know how tempted
you are to fly into the sun, Stacy.” Says Jenna
“I can only hope that I am not that
foolish.” Says Stacy
“I can only hope to win the lottery
too, that doesn’t mean I’m going to win it.” Says Ophelia
The girls laugh, Stacy rolls her eyes.
The girls make small talk, speaking or
normal things and normalcy. The bell rings, eventually.
“Freedom.” Says Stacy, excitedly
“You girls have any plans today?” asks
Grace
“Oh, what, no. I don’t think so.” Says
Stacy
“You want to try that coffee shop? I
hear it’s good.” Says Grace
“I don’t know I’m kind of broke.” Says
Stacy
“I’ll treat you; it’s the least I can
do for letting us chat with you.” Says Isabelle
“Oh, really, you don’t have to, it was
my pleasure.” Says Stacy
“My parents expect me to throw money on
friends like they are strippers. They tell me it’s an important for some
reason. Something about trickle-down-economics.” Says Isabelle
“We should really go, it will be fun.
You don’t want to ruin important economics do you Stacy?” asks Ophelia
“I don’t think you know what that word
means.” Says Stacy
“It’s her word not mine, and she said
it was important.” Says Ophelia
“Come on, it’s just a coffee. Don’t
worry about it, if you really feel bad you can owe me one or something.” Says
Isabelle
“I guess it couldn’t hurt.” Says Stacy
“Great.” Says Isabelle
Jenna laughs quietly and bewilderedly
to herself, embarrassed
The girls leave the school and head
down to the coffee shop. The sign read “Cafe”.
“This place doesn’t have a name?” asks
Jenna
“I’m pretty sure it’s hip if you don’t
have one, any of that corporate branding and the pompous coffee hounds will
turn their nose up at you.” Says Isabelle, Jenna laughs.
The girls walk up to the counter.
“One medium coffee with a touch of
cream.” orders Grace
“I’ll take a medium dark roast with milk.”
Orders Isabelle
“Give me that real normal stuff.” Says
Stacy
“So coffee, right?” says the barista,
unentertained
“Of course.” Says Stacy
“Cream or sugar?” he asks
“Cream, no sugar.” Says Stacy
“How much?” he asks
“All of it?” says Stacy timidly
“Heavy cream. Next.”
“One medium black coffee, please.” Says
Jenna
“I’ll have a caramel macchiato.” Says
Ophelia
The girls pay, get their drinks and sit
down.
“Ophelia, I’m surprised you knew
anything about coffee.” Says Stacy
“I don’t, but I know what caramel is.”
Says Ophelia
“I clearly spoke too soon.” Jokes Stacy
Ophelia sips her coffee. “Wow, it’s so good.
I actually made a good choice for once.”
“I am so proud of you.” Jokes Stacy,
wholllesomely, the girls giggle
Stacy sips her coffee. “God damn. This
is like drinking heaven.” She says
Jenna sips hers “Mine is good too.” She
says
“You girls never had coffee before?”
asks Grace
“No, but I might have to start coming
here.” Says Stacy
“You want to try mine?” asks Jenna,
“It’s really hot so take a tiny sip.” She says
“Ok.” Stacy sips it “That is terrible.”
She frowns, surprised by the taste
“I guess it’s too mature for you,
Stacy.” Teases Jenna
“It’s an acquired taste. Plenty of
people don’t like it.” Says Isabelle
“I guess I don’t want to be mature
after all if it means choosing to drink dirt instead of creamy liquid heaven.”
Says Stacy
“That cream is pretty high in calories,
I’m sure more people would drink it otherwise.” Says Grace
“My body is mostly composed of milk, so
if I don’t replenish it, I could easily collapse. I’ve never had cream before though;
this must be the milk of gods.” Says Stacy, the girls laugh
“The cream of the crop, skimming the
cream, the world has always loved their cream.” Says Grace
“For good reason.” Says Stacy
“We came here to be mature, didn’t we?
So let’s talk about mature things.” Says Ophelia
“Tell us what could possibly be raking
your mind.” Says Stacy
“Well, it’s just that we’re in high
school now, and none of the three of us have boyfriends.” Says Ophelia
“Neither Grace nor I have one either,
it’s kind of hard, since we go to a girl’s school and everything.” Says
Isabelle
“Still, romance is an important part of
life.” Says Ophelia
“It’s true.” Says Isabelle, longingly
“I’ve got plenty of worries just from school;
I don’t need to add the opinions of boys into the equation.” Says Jenna
“I’m with you Jenna. Way too much on my
plate as it is.” Says Stacy
“I don’t want a boyfriend either,
nothing but trouble, really.” Says Grace
“Oh, you girls are so young and naive,
one day you will appreciate the beauty of love.” Says Ophelia loftily
“Sadly, I wouldn’t know where to start
even if I was going to actually try to get one.” Says Isabelle
“Now that you say that, I don’t either.
Do any of you know anything about getting a boyfriend?” Says Ophelia
“Why would I know something about that
if I don’t have any interest in it?” asks Jenna
“That’s like asking you if you know
anything about what we learned in school, Ophelia.” Says Stacy
Grace giggles
“I’m sure love will prevail somehow, we
must spread our wings and love will be the wind beneath them.” Says Ophelia
“I hope your wings are the only thing
you plan on spreading.” Jokes Isabelle
“Well, you can’t forget about love
itself, can you? It’s always important to spread love everywhere you go, to
every man, woman, and child.” Says Ophelia
“That’s expecting a lot.” Says Jenna
“That might be illegal.” Says Isabelle
Grace giggles
“Love could never be illegal. Since you
girls clearly don’t know anything about it I’m going to ask that guy over there
if he can help me get a boyfriend.” Says Ophelia
“That’s a grown man Ophelia. That is
definitely how you get abducted, raped, and murdered.” Says Isabelle
“I’m sure he knows a lot then.” Says
Ophelia as she leaves the table and walks over to him
“Did she not listen to what I said?”
asked Isabelle
“When it comes to Ophelia, it is a
complex equation of whether or not she listened to what you said combined with
the part where she probably did not understand what you meant, and the final
factor where she could easily not even know what some of the words mean.” Says
Stacy
“You are so mean, Stacy. You’re bad.”
Teases Isabelle
“Sadly, she is just being honest right
there.” Says Jenna, a bit embarrassed, the girls laugh “I’ll go make sure
nothing bad happens.” Says Jenna as she follows Ophelia to the man, sitting
alone, Ophelia sits down at his table, the man looks up from his computer and
then back down.
“I hope she isn’t bothering you.” Says
Jenna as she arrives
“No, she hasn’t said anything. She can
sit there if she wants.” Says the man, indifferent
“I am thinking about what to say.” Says
Ophelia
“Just ask him what you wanted to ask so
we can let him be, I’m really sorry about this.” Says Jenna
“It’s ok. I’ve got that bookish nerdy look;
I can see why you would presume I know something about whatever it is.” He
jokes
“I’m kind of looking for a boyfriend.”
Says Ophelia, timidly
“Oh. Ok. Well, you look kind of young;
I see you are still in high school. It’s probably not a good idea to go up to
strangers and ask them that. That’s how you get abducted, raped, and murdered.”
Says the man
“That’s exactly what we tried to tell
her.” Says Jenna, nervously
“Don’t worry though, I’m not like
that.” He says, defensively
“That’s good. Well, do you know
anything about getting a boyfriend?” asks Ophelia
“I don’t know, I’ve never looked for a
boyfriend.” He says, dryly
“What about a girlfriend?” asks Ophelia
“Well I don’t know, I’m kind of a loser, you
see me hanging out here by myself? Maybe try asking a girl who is with a boy.
You might have more luck.” He says
“Wow, so I should try to find a popular guy?”
asks Ophelia
“Well, the popular guys are the kind
who would probably want to get you drunk and take advantage of you.” He says
“Then why are they popular?” asks
Ophelia
“They’re good looking assholes with
money, girls love that for some reason, to the point where they can forgive the
abuse.” He says
“Well, I don’t, so I guess I want an
unpopular guy?” says Ophelia, growing confused
“Those guys are creeps more than likely, there
are reasons they are unpopular you know.” He says
“So are you a creep?” asks Ophelia
“No, no. I’m just not quite a social animal; I
like computers and stuff like that.” He says, defending his dignity
“Wow, so boring. Looks like I’ve got the choice between a creep, a
boring loser, or an asshole, where are the good men at?” asks Ophelia
“Women ask themselves that question every day
and never find the answer, you’re basically looking for El Dorado and the only
thing in your destiny is to die of giardia and malaria.” Jokes the man
“Wow, this is enlightening, hopefully I
can find a guy with some real advice.” Says Ophelia
“That was as real as advice can get,
it’s kind of like the goldilocks principle, there’s tons of guys out there, but
most are going to be too hot, or cold, or mean, or something or other that
makes having a real relationship with them unlikely unless you are willing to
put up with some form of masochism to tolerate their undesirable elements. In
theory there is a man who doesn’t fall into the category of at least one
extreme, but you can learn a lesson from the sci-fi space adventure books, the
planet may not be perfect, but with some effort you can make it work and get
by. The same thing applies to women, just so you know.” Says the Man
“Wow. I can kind of understand that. That’s
surprisingly helpful, but doesn’t help me find one really.” Says Ophelia,
disheartened
“I wouldn’t rush it, the more you want the
man, the less he is willing to do for you, he figures he’s already got the cat
in the bag, so why bother to make an effort to keep it in there when it will
stay in there of its own accord, you’ve got plenty of, erhm, assets, so plenty
of guys would naturally be interested in you, just make them work for it and
you’ve got the upper hand. As much as the man may not be all that happy, you
will be, and then it’s just about riding the horse, you can beat it enough so that
it takes you where you want to go, but just not too much or it will buck you
off and you’ve got to wrangle another one.” Says the man
“You sure do know a lot about
relationships for a computer loser.” Says Ophelia
“Yeah,
it’s amazing what you learn on the internet.” He says
“Where do you learn this exactly?” asks
Ophelia
“I’m
going to try and preserve what little self-respect I have and keep that a
secret.” He says
“What is it like some guidebook for
girls or something?” asks Ophelia
The man laughs nervously “Kind of, more
like their fantasies I guess.” He says
“Wow, you read about girls’ fantasies,
that’s kind of weird.” Says Ophelia
“Well, sadly I can only fantasize about
being their fantasy.” He says
“I’m sure you will find somebody. Love
always finds a way. Thanks for your advice though.” She says and gets up
“I want to thank you too, that was very
informative.” Says Jenna
The man laughs “No problem, we’re in
the same boat after all.” He says
“I don’t really want a boyfriend; I’m
more of that bookish type like you. She just got hung up on that today for some
reason. Thanks for your help though.” Says Jenna
“No problem. I’m sure we will find
somebody eventually.” He says, a bit hopeless, trying to be optimistic
“Looking for someone seems to be the
hard part.” Says Jenna
“It is when nobody looks your way.” He
says
“Somebody is looking your way, I’m sure
of it. If you really are searching for somebody, you know what they say, leave
no stone unturned.” Says Jenna
“I’ll give that a shot. You’ve got some
good advice too, you know.” He says
Jenna laughs “Thanks. Take care now.”
She says
“You too.” He says as she walks away
Jenna and Ophelia return to the table
“So how did the search for a boyfriend
go?” teases Stacy
“He told me that if I’m looking for a
good man, I’m basically looking for El Dorado.” She says
“That is the sad truth.” Says Isabelle
“He had a lot of relationship advice,
it was surprisingly informative.” Says Jenna
“Wow, that guy had relationship
advice?” asks Isabelle
“He said he reads a lot of books of
girl’s fantasies or something. I don’t know.” Says Jenna
The girls laugh.
“I want to give up for today; his
viewpoint on love was that it was some form of masochistic slavery or
something. It was pretty depressing.” Says Ophelia
“That sounds a lot like love to me.”
Says Isabelle
“Don’t break her heart.” Says Grace
“It might hurt a bit, but I’m sure love
will prevail.” Says Ophelia
“That’s the spirit.” Says Jenna
“It’s a shame that my idea of talking
to a boy was met be everyone telling me that I am probably going to die if I do
that. I don’t even know where to start now.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure there will be other
opportunities. Don’t worry about it.” Says Isabelle
“He did tell me to let the love come to
me. If I chase it I’ll become the slave. I’ll just have to hope that works.”
Says Ophelia
“There are always other kinds of love;
it doesn’t have to be romantic.” Says Stacy
“That’s true, I can just wait for the
romantic part to come to me and love spending time with you guys. That makes me
feel better.” Says Ophelia
“Heres to that. Let the boys come to
us, they can get on their knees and beg if they want anything from me.” Says
Stacy
“It’s terrible, I should agree with you
after what that guy told me, but I still feel like begging.” Says Ophelia
“Boo. I boo you. Grow a backbone.
You’ve got us, you don’t need a boy.” Says Stacy
“I’m telling you, guys are nothing but
trouble. We’ve got better things to do than waste time trying to please them.”
Says Grace
“Ophelia you could enslave legions of
men all with the false promise of a chance at your love. The more scarce the
object, the more precious and valuable it becomes. It’s simple economics.” Says
Stacy
“Use your brain to protect your heart,
or at least use Stacy’s brain. She’s pretty smart.” Says Isabelle
“There’s no point in chasing
heartbreak, the more sensitive your heart the more vulnerable it is.” Says
Jenna
“If it breaks regardless, does it even
matter?” asks Ophelia
“I would say there’s a big difference
between a small crack and obliteration. Harden your heart and sharpen your
brain with it. Love is war.” Says Stacy
“Damn, Stacy, you sure know how to
rally the troops.” Says Isabelle
“To arms!” says Stacy, the girls laugh
“I really had fun today, but we should
be going. I’m sure all of you have work and chores to do, too.” Says Isabelle
“Thanks again, it was great to hang out
with you guys.” Says Grace
“We should do this again, today was
great.” Stacy kisses her fingertips and tosses them away “Belissimo!”
“See you tomorrow.” Says Jenna
“Hopefully love will prevail next
time.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure it will, don’t give up.” says
Grace, smiling
“Tomorrow it is, take care now.” Says
Isabelle, smiling as she gets up and leaves with Grace
The three sit at the table.
“Didn’t we also say we would do some
magic today, I feel like the world needs love even more now that I know how
terrible people are.” Says Ophelia
“I’d go just to make you happy. It is
sad seeing you like this.” Says Stacy
“Maybe just a little bit, ok?” says
Jenna
“Hooray!” says Ophelia as the girls
exit into the street
“So how do we go out and start doing
this again? You’re the only one who seems to understand the concept here.” Says
Stacy
“Well, normally the trouble finds the
girls in the stories, so I don’t really know. Why not use your powers to search
for people in need of help?” asks Ophelia
“I’d rather not experience all of the
suffering cause by evil in the city. Last time I tried that it was a gruesome
experience and really didn’t amount to anything.” Says Stacy
“I thought you could control it now?”
asks Ophelia
“Well, I can look at a person and kind
of analyze them specifically, and kind of walk the streets in my mind doing
that, but if I think about just vaguely looking for people to help then it’s
like swimming through pain and sadness that reaches out and grabs me while I
can’t really do anything about it.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you can find something.” Says
Ophelia
“Unless you want to go fight wife
beaters, murderers, pickpockets, and drug dealers, it’s pretty slim pickings in
terms of things we can feasibly accomplish.” Says Stacy
“That sounds really dangerous, and it
is clearly a bad idea. Let’s just do what we did last time, we can go to the
park and help people, we were able to do good things without putting ourselves
in danger.” Says Jenna
“Now there’s a good idea, thank you
Jenna.” Says Stacy
“Wow, Stacy knows everything and can
see the future and can’t even come up with an idea.” Says Ophelia
“I can’t see the future, it is always
changing. I can guess, but it’s all about probability, trying to predict
people’s actions based on their motives and personality, every subtle change in
a whim or impulse or opinion makes is pretty much impossible. People are random;
it would take a lot of thorough work to have a foolproof plan, last time when I
ran through the scenario in my head, nothing bad happened, but clearly my
premonition was not accurate.” Says Stacy
“The best laid plans of mice and men
oft go awry. Let’s be wary of that.” Says Jenna
“Let’s just keep it simple, nothing bad
will happen at a park. It’s all children and families and innocent intentions of
playing or passing the time.” Says Stacy
“To the park! We have love to spread
and people to help and, umm.., things to know!” says Ophelia excitedly
“I’m glad at least you’re excited.”
Says Jenna, not exactly pleased with the idea of living her second life
“You should be more excited about
helping people, Jenna.” Says Ophelia
“It’s the whole magic witch part that
I’m not quite thrilled about.” Says Jenna
“It’s cute, though.” Says Ophelia
“To normal people we look crazy. It is
embarrassing.” Says Jenna
“No it’s not, it’s lovely and amazing.
You’re being too self-conscious.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll make a note of that, any level of
self-awareness is too much.” Says Jenna sarcastically
“It is if it prevents you from
spreading love and helping people.” Says Ophelia
“Looks like I’m going to grin and bear
it, at least I can hang my shame up with the costume when I take it off.” Says
Ophelia
“Don’t worry Jenna, I won’t forget your
cute little outfit.” Teases Stacy
“Stop it. Let’s just get this over
with.” sighs Jenna, Stacy giggles
The girls make their way a couple
blocks to the park. The faceless nameless people stirred into the swirling
colorful dance of leisure and pastime by their own restless boredom or that of
their accompaniment. The girls walk behind the lonely concrete restroom,
shrouded by a thein veil of trees and shrubbery separating it from the street
behind. Ophelia transforms, thoroughly enjoying herself, Jenna reluctantly does
so, her visible displeasure a tasteful accompaniment to the black birds that
dress her.
“You aren’t going to at least try
Stacy?” asks Blaze
Stacy rolls her eyes, spins and jumps.
Nothing happens. “Rats.” She says sarcastically
“You’ve got to want it.” Says Blaze
“No you don’t.” says Raven, unenthused
“Whatever. The people are calling to
us, we must answer their cry!” says Ophelia
“If we must.” Says Raven
“You two have fun now.” Says Stacy,
giggling
“You have to try too, Stacy.” Says
Blaze, expectantly
“I’ll try to think of something.” Says
Stacy, uninterested
“Good. I’m off to give the gift of
love. Wish me luck.” Says Blaze, smiling, posing and winking before running
away into the park
“With the smile and enthusiasm as
authentic as those working in the service industry, I’m here to help.” Says
Raven, in a sarcastic monotone, smiling grimly
“No wink or pose?” teases Stacy
“You’re lucky you even got a smile. I
thought that catchphrase was on point. Are you at least going to help me?” Says
Raven
“It’s suspicious if I follow you
around. I’ll just take the back seat.” Says Stacy
“At least give me some direction.” Says
Raven
“I believe the park is that way.” Jokes
Stacy, pointing to the sports fields and play structures dotted with people.
“Your omniscience really does come in
handy sometimes.” Says Raven sarcastically as she walks off slowly towards the
park shaking her head. Stacy goes to sit at a picnic table to enjoy the
spectacle from a safe distance.
Blaze approaches a young boy and girl
sitting on a bench. “Is this young love I see?” she asks, excitedly
“What? No, this is my little sister.”
Says the boy, already annoyed
“Well then you should love her all the
same.” Says Blaze, with airs
“She’s hyper and annoying. Do you love
people like that?” asks the boy
“Well you should still cherish and love
her and protect her.” Says Blaze
“What am I some kind of knight?” asks
the boy sarcastically
“Yes, you are a knight and this is your princess.” Says
Blaze, proud of her cuteness
“If she’s a princess
doesn’t that make me a prince?” asks the boy dryly
“A knightly prince,
it is your duty to be a noble chivalrous man.” Says Blaze
“You are dressed up like a witch, shouldn’t I fight you if
I’m a knight?” he asks
“No, I am the witch of love, I bring love to everybody.”
Says Blaze, amicably and delighted with herself
“You are so weird.” Says the boy, looking away, embarrassed
for her sake
“Hear the calling of
your knighthood, young prince!” says Blaze as she waves her scepter around and
points it at him.
“What is wrong with
you?” asks the boy, growing confused
“Hear your calling!” she says, waving he scepter more
violently, “Sing to me of your love of your princess, and princess, how you
love your knight.” Commands Blaze loftily
“This is getting creepy.” Says the boy,
concernedly
“Not in the creepy way, in the normal
way!” says Blaze indignantly
“No, go away.” asserts the boy
“Show me that my blessing has reached your
heart, young nobles!” says Blaze
“Wow, this is really what you do in your free
time?” asks the boy, actually concerned for Blaze
“Say
that you love each other dearly so I can heal more hearts.” Says Blaze
“Tell me you won’t end up like this
when you get older Tina.” Says the boy sincerely
“I
won’t.” says Tina, innocently, scared
“You
better leave if I say it.” Says the boy
“I
promise.” Says Blaze, sincerely
“Ok.
I’m doing this for your protection Tina, I love you.” Says the boy
“I
love you too Stan.” Says Tina cutely.
“Happy?” says the boy, still confused
“Very happy! My work here is done!” says Blaze excitedly
“What a nutcase.” mumbles the boy as Blaze runs away.
Raven walks around aimlessly, trying
not to be noticed more so than trying to help people. She walks past a woman
watching her two small kids toss a ball around. “Hey, can you watch my kids, if
I’m not here they’ll run away and do something stupid, but I’ve really got to
use the restroom.” Says the woman
“I am happy to help.” Says Raven, feeling
blessed by the fortuitously easy task, waving at the kids.
“Im
going to the restroom, you behave or this witch will put a terrible curse on
you, ok?” shouts the woman to her children
“No I won’t!” shouts Raven
“Yes she totally will and she is lying
to you because she wants to eat you if you misbehave, she loves to eat naughty
little children.” Shouts the woman. “Just go with it.” she whispers to Jenna.
“Ok.”
Says Jenna a bit startled. Raven watches the kids who stare at her playing;
tossing a ball back and forth slowly out of fear that something will happen if
they stop. Raven smiles at them nervously. The woman returns after a short
while. “Thanks for that.” She says “you would make a great babysitter.”
“Oh, no problem. I’m glad I could
help.” Says Raven timidly and walks away, feeling a bit sacred of herself
She walks over to Stacy at the table.
“How did it go?” asks Stacy
“Not so great, now I’m going to be
known as the witch who eats misbehaving children.” Says Raven
Stacy laughs. “It was that bad, huh?”
“It was pretty bad, I don’t know why my
ring is glowing. I just stood there and looked after somebody’s kids for a
minute.” Says Raven
“Apparently you must have scared them
into being good little kids.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think I should be proud of
that. I should be at least trying to do good things.” Says Raven
“A rose by any other name.” says Stacy
Blaze returns to them. “Two more hearts
have been blessed by the beauty of love. It is such a wonderful feeling.” She
says
“Just two?” teases Stacy
“A lot of people start walking away
pretty fast for some reason, they look scared. It must be some demon or ghost
that prevents them from truly hearing my song of love.” Says Blaze
“That’s got to be it.” Jokes Stacy
“Did you do anything?” asks Blaze
“No.” says Stacy
“Well, think of something.” Says Blaze
“Fine.” Stacy closes her eyes for a
minute “Well, sadly now I have a moral obligation to make a fool out of myself.
Let’s just hope I’m not wasting my time. Some people don’t want to hear the
truth.” Says Stacy, as she gets up
“Good luck!” says Blaze
Stacy collects herself as she walks
over to a woman, enjoying a leisurely walk around the park.
“Ma’am, this will sound strange, but please
listen to me, I am a psychic and it is my calling to help people.” Says Stacy halfheartedly. “I have some bad
news, but it will help you. You have breast cancer, I know you have no
intention of seeing a doctor as it is, but I hope that by telling you this you
can get treatment. If you don’t it will worsen and bring you an untimely death.”
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is wrong
with you? Why would you walk up to a stranger and say something like that.”
Says the shocked woman
“Like I said I am a psychic, it is important
that you listen to me, if my words go unheeded I my work will be in vain and my
boss will not be happy with me.” Says Stacy, growing more serious
“You
have the sickest imagination. Why not pretend to be some princess or something
nice?” Says the woman
“I’m
not pretending, please, just listen to me I am basically enslaved by my boss
and I must do good deeds. Clearly I do not enjoy doing this.” Says Stacy
“You
need some help, big time, Jesus Christ, go away.” says the disgusted woman
“No, I will only leave if you believe me;
I don’t get many opportunities to save lives because most people don’t have
deadly cancer in early stages unbeknownst to them, so I am trying to make the
most of this one.” Says Stacy, stubbornly
“You are pretending you are some lifesaving
cancer psychic, people really have cancer and die, this is not some shit to
play pretend about.” Says the woman
“Please listen, damn it, I don’t like
doing this. Once you believe me I get to stop and enjoy the rest of my day. It
was this or tell somebody that their brake light was out, you can see why I
chose this.” Says Stacy, coldly
“What
is going through that sick little mind of yours? Go be crazy somewhere else.”
Says the upset woman
“I’m not crazy god damn it, I tell you
what, I’m tired of this shit just as much as you are, if you weren’t such a
bitch then maybe a man would be nice enough to fondle your breasts and have the
pleasure of informing you, but since that is sadly not the case here I am, so
pop your fucking bra and feel your left breast below the nipple between left of
the center. There will be a small lump fairly deep inside of there that you
would otherwise ignore until it gets to the point where it literally fucking
kills you within a year’s time. If there is not a fucking lump there you can
slap the ever living shit out of me and I’ll go away forever. Fuck.” Says
Stacy, clearly aggravated
“What the fuck?” says the alarmed, disgusted
woman
“Just do it, I know you want to slap me;
teach me my lesson. Prove that I’m not a psychic.” Says Stacy, coldly
“Fine.” she pops her bra and feels her
breast in the spot, her face going white, shocked, “You’re telling me that it’s
cancer?”
“For
the last time, yes, go to a doctor, get it treated, you will live a long and
happy life. Fucking hell I hate my job.” Says Stacy clearly unenthusiastically
“This blows my mind, I don’t want to
believe you but now I’m scared. If you really are some cancer psychic why don’t
you love your job?” asks the woman
“You see how hard I had to try just for
you to squeeze your tit? Now think of how hard it would be for me to convince a
man to put a fucking camera up his ass or get a random MRI out of the blue. I
need to find a better line of work.” Says Stacy begrudgingly
“Please, no, if you really saved my
life I will honestly be grateful, if you really have this power it is your
responsibility to help people, I don’t want to believe you, but you knew there
was a lump there.” Says the woman in disbelief
“The problem is I don’t get paid if
they don’t believe me, and when I use the damn premonition, I can see the
futility of even trying, most people would never believe a psychic. It is soul
crushing to be honest.” Says Stacy in a distant, indignant, matter-of-fact tone
“Maybe you need a more believable
costume or something, like a magician.” Says the woman
“I’m not trying to be a fucking
comedian. You know, the worst part is the more I do this, the more likely it
becomes that I will die because some
criminal or the government doesn’t like what I’m doing. It’s a catch-22.” Says
Stacy
“Don’t let the bastards grind you down;
you have a gift from god, make the most of it.” Says the woman
“The medical lobbyists don’t give a
damn about god, if they even suspect that even one psychic is legitimate they
will make psychic readings illegal, the only reason they aren’t is because 99%
of the time they are shams.” Says Stacy
“It sounds like you know about a lot
more things than just cancer; it seems you really are stuck in a catch-22. I
don’t know what to tell you.” Says the woman
“Thanks for understanding, and more so,
thanks for listening. I’m going to lie down for a while because I’m exhausted.
I don’t have the personality for this sort of thing.” Says Stacy grumpily as
she walks away
“Thank you!” shouts the woman
Stacy returns to her friends.
“That didn’t look like a happy psychic
reading from here.” Says Raven
“Who would have guessed that people
don’t like being told that they have cancer from some psychic schoolgirl.” Says
Stacy sarcastically
“Well, at least you helped her.” Says Blaze
“I save a woman’s life and my ring goes
from a dull blue grey to a silvery light grey, you just stand there looking
after kids and yours is glowing white. What the hell does that dog expect from
me?” Says Stacy, indignantly
“One expects a man with a shovel to dig
a bigger hole than a man with a spoon.” Says the voice of the dog
“Fucking hell.” Says Stacy, suddenly
even more upset
“What’s wrong?” asks Blaze
“The god damn dog decided to talk to me
again.” Says Stacy
“What did he say?” asks Raven
“One expects a man with a shovel to dig
a bigger hole than a man with a spoon.” Says Stacy, mocking the dog
“That does make sense.” Says Blaze
“That’s fucking awful news though. Why
did I have to be a smartass and grab the shovel, I should have grabbed a spoon
like you too.” Says Stacy
“Things happen for a reason.” Says Raven
“Yeah, it’s called me being an idiot
and a smartass at the same time. The reason why it happened is clear as day.”
Says Stacy
“What are you going to do?” asks Blaze
“Well I’ve got to think of something or
I’m going to die. It’s like he expects me to save the world or something.” Says
Stacy
“He just expects us to do good things.”
Says Blaze
“I guess saving the life of some
coldhearted woman doesn’t put much good back in the world in the end.” Says
Stacy
“You could always try to report bad
guys to the cops or something, I don’t know. That seems like an easy way to
fight evil.” Says Raven
“I thought about that, but it’s the
cops who get most all the credit. It’s not like they will follow up every tip
you give them unless you have hard evidence or are willing to testify as a
witness, which I am in no position to do.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know what to tell you.” Says Raven
“I’ll think of something. I know for
damn sure I won’t like it, but I’m not going to let this dog kill me, God damn
it.” Says Stacy
“Cheer up, it will be ok.” Says Blaze
“You don’t seem to comprehend the
gravity of the situation.” Says Stacy, seriously
“I’m just hoping for the best is all.”
Says Blaze
“I’m sure hope was the missing factor
the whole time, thanks.” Says Stacy sarcastically “Just go transform, I don’t
want to be reminded of this magic witch bullshit anymore.”
“I can sympathize with that.” Says
Raven
“Already? But we just started.” Pouts
Blaze
“We should go home anyways, it’s
getting late.” Says Raven
Blaze sighs, let down. Jenna pulls her
back behind the restroom and they transform back into their school clothes.
“We can try to do something this
weekend, just try to think of some awesome way to help people Stacy.” Says
Jenna
“The problem is that most people don’t
need help, most of the people who need help don’t want help, and most of the
people willing to accept help don’t deserve the help. Finding somebody to help
that might make my ring glow is like a finding needle in a haystack. Let’s just
go home.” Says Stacy, the girls follow her out of the park and down the road
“Maybe you can think of some hijinks to
stop bad guys like in the cartoons.” Says Ophelia
“That is completely ridiculous. When
the police go to the academy to learn how to stop a criminal, there is no
section of the course devoted to hijinks.” Says Stacy
“You don’t know that.” Says Ophelia
“Fuck me. I know that, everybody knows
that. It’s common sense.” Says Stacy
“Well, maybe that’s why the police are
so bad at stopping criminals.” retorts Ophelia
“You’re on to something. The millennia
old profession of law enforcement has been missing one critical element the
entire time, and by the grace of god, the prophet Ophelia has discovered what
it was.” Says Stacy sarcastically
“I’m just saying that sort of thing
tends to stop criminals in their tracks most of the time.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll just throw a rake under the foot
of a bank robber and drop a piano on a pickpocket. That will do the trick.”
Says Stacy, still sarcastic
“We will figure it out, just be
optimistic. Let’s drop it for now, all this talk about it is causing the
rainbow of shame inside of me to sparkle.” Says Jenna
“What does a rainbow have to do with
shame?” asks Ophelia
“Well, it’s a rainbow as much as 7
different layers of shame stacked on top of each other and glowing. The rainbow
part was a figure of speech.” Says Jenna
“Oh. I’m just full of regular
rainbows.” Says Ophelia
“We know. Just keep walking, no
stopping, I’m hungry.” Says Stacy coldly
“Tomorrow then, we will truly help the
world.” Says Ophelia as they exit the park
“One can only hope, today the woman I
talked to insisted that I was the one who needed help.” Says Stacy
“The vast majority of people didn’t
believe Jesus when he was alive; it was the few who did who went down in
history.” Says Jenna
“Don’t compare me to Jesus.” Says Stacy
“I’m not; I’m just saying it’s kind of
similar. Just keep believing in yourself and everything will turn out fine.”
Says Jenna
“Didn’t Jesus get executed for what he
was doing and it wasn’t for 200 years until people started to believe him?”
asks Stacy
“Yeah, that’s true.” Says Jenna
“That is reassuring.” Says Stacy,
sarcastically
“Well, everyone believes in Jesus now,
so what’s your point?” asks Ophelia
“Well, the point is that in the best
case scenario I would be dead for 200 years before anybody believes me.” Says
Stacy
“Wow. That does sound bad.” Says
Ophelia
“It sounds bad because it is bad. Let’s just try to live our
lives. I told you already, I will think of something. I’ll see you all
tomorrow.” Says Stacy
“Bye.” Says Ophelia
“I believe in you Stacy, keep your head
up.” Says Jenna
“Thanks. I know your job isn’t the
easiest either.” Says Stacy
“It’s my own reluctance that is holding
me back; the job really shouldn’t be that hard.” Says Jenna
“That’s good. I can’t blame you for
feeling reluctant.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad at least you can understand
where I’m coming from. You know what they say; we’ve just got to get back on
that horse tomorrow.” Says Jenna
“Yee-haw.” Jokes Stacy
“Yee-haw.” Says Jenna
Stacy playfully salutes Jenna, Jenna
smiles, Ophelia waves, and the girl’s part ways.
Stacy walks alone down, the streets
cuddle her feet and the setting sun kisses her skin. The colors of paradise
painted across the sky quietly remind Stacy of the ephemerality of the sunshine
and smiles and youth. She opens the door to her peaceful home, the quiet creak
a quaint accompaniment to the blooming ghost that haunts it. The smell of her
sisters cooking soothes her heavy heart, he father’s stoic presence on the
couch comforts her anxiety about the uncertain future. She walks into the
kitchen.
“Up to no good, I presume.” Says her
sister, disheartened
“Nothing but smiles, sunshine, and
wholesome fun. I don’t know if that qualifies as no good in your book.” Says
Stacy
“Of course not, but of course I don’t
believe you either. It looks like you’ve been struggling to beat a horse to
death for the last four hours.” Says Stella
“Well, it was more like twenty minutes,
don’t worry, the horse is dead though.” Says Stacy
“That’s good news.” Says Stella,
sarcastically “So what did the poor horse do to deserve that?”
“It didn’t listen.” Says Stacy
“You expect more from a horse than you
do from yourself. How quaint.” Says Stella
“Well, man doesn’t expect a human to
pull his wagon, either.” Says Stacy
“It really depends on what part of the
world you are in.” says Stella
“That’s depressing that the labor of a
horse is more expensive than the labor of a human.” Says Stacy
“There are plenty of advantages to
having a human do that, they take care of themselves and don’t shit in the
streets.” Says Stella
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that last
part.” Jokes Stacy
“Don’t joke about other people’s
misfortune like that. It’s not their choice they were brought into this world;
they are just trying to make do with what they have.” Says Stella
“It really demonstrates the priorities
of the world when you would rather have nuclear missiles and a space program
than a sewer system.” Says Stella
“You don’t feel hypocritical
criticizing other people’s poor prioritization skills?” Says Stella
“Nope. Have you ever met a self-conscious
hypocrite before?” says Stacy
“Good point. Go get changed, supper is
almost ready.” Says Stella
“What is it?” asks Stacy
“Tofu Stir Fry” says Stella
“You could have just said food.” Says
Stacy
“I thought about it.” Jokes Stella
Stacy goes upstairs and changes into
relaxed clothes before returning. Stella prepared two plates of food and placed
them on the table.
“Dad, do you want to eat?” asks Stella
from the kitchen
“Fix me a plate and bring it to me. It
smells good.” He says
Stella brings him a plate. “It’s good
that you’re eating.” She says, sincerely
“It’s good that you’re cooking, it’s
hard to eat when you’re sick. It’s even harder if I’m the one cooking.” He
jokes
“Hopefully this will make you feel
better.” She says as he eats slowly
“Damn, this is good. Where’d you learn
to do this?” he says
“Practice makes perfect.” She says
“That’s a lot of practice, when I cook
it’s barely edible and I’ve been kicking around for decades.” He says
“Just keep kicking around, ok?” she
says
“You girls worry too much, I’m like a
car running on ethanol, it may not be pretty, but it gets the job done.” He
says
“It’s just a little rough on the
engine.” She says
“Well, I try not to move around too
much, you know, minimize the wear and tear.” He says
“That’s good. I’m going to keep an eye
on Stacy, it’s a shame I trust you to make good decisions more than I trust
her.” She says
“I mean, I’m pretty good at it, she’s
still young. We’ve got to make mistakes in order to learn from them.” He says
“She’s plenty good at making mistakes.
Trust me. I can only hope she learns from them.” She jokes, laughing
concernedly
“That’s about all I can do, hoping for
the best seemed to work out pretty well, just look at how you turned out.” He
says
“Your faith in optimism is comforting.
I’m going to eat, you enjoy now, ok?” she says
“Thanks again.” He says gratefully, as
Stella goes to sit down at the table.
“So besides the horse, your day was
uneventful, I hope.” Says Stella
“Me and the girls went out for coffee
with some friends from our club. Pretty uneventful.” Says Stacy
“You drink coffee now?” asks Stella,
surprised
“God no, I tried the plain coffee, it
was terrible. I’m in it for the cream.” Says Stacy
“Milk, the gateway beverage.” jokes
Stella
“The gateway to heaven.” Says Stacy
“Your resolute faith is admirable. If
only it came with a shred of human decency.” Says Stella
“I’ve got plenty of shreds of human
decency.” Says Stacy, defensively
“Most people have enough decency to
clothe themselves with it.” Says Stella
“I would say I’m at least clothed
enough to be within the confines of the law.” Says Stacy
“That’s debatable, tell me when you get
cold, I’ll knit you a sweater.” Jokes Stella
“It doesn’t get that cold in Bay City.”
Says Stacy
“The literal temperature easily
explains the allegorical lack of decency among its residents, ironically.” Says
Stella
“It’s more easily explained by the
allegorical temperature.” Says Stacy
“Clearly, I was just pointing out the
irony.” Says Stella
“The more correlation between the
allegory and reality, the more useful it is when explaining things.” Says Stacy
“Allegories are used for their
simplicity more than their accuracy.” Says Stella
“Some people just don’t want to
acknowledge the literal truth, or lack the capacity.” Says Stacy
“Put me in that first camp. Please give
me a pretty allegory with cute animals next time you do something crazy.” Says
Stella
“I’ll see what I can do.” Says Stacy
“I’m holding you to that, you know.”
Says Stella
Stacy laughs and the girls clean up after
eating and head upstairs. They both take out their school things and begin to
work.
“You’re actually going to do your
homework? I thought I was going to have to prod you like always.” Says Stella
“What can I say; I like to fantasize
about being a normal little schoolgirl, to the point where I’ll even start to
roleplay.” Says Stacy
“At least you are willing to fantasize
about being normal.” Says Stella
“A girl can dream, can’t she?” says
Stacy
“Just try not to wake up, ok?” says
Stella
“You know I really don’t want to.” Says
Stacy
“Your dream can become reality if you
never wake up.” Says Stella
“That’s the hard part.” Says Stacy
“Don’t remind me. Let’s just get lost
in our little fantasy and forget the world exists.” Says Stella
“You are lulling me deeper into my
slumber, dream weaver. You tempt me with your promises of paradise.” Says Stacy
“I never thought I would hear you call
school a paradise.” Says Stella
“To the drowning man, even a desert
island becomes paradise.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope you get washed to shore,
ok?” says Stella
“I will reach paradise, one way or the
other, through serendipity, or eternal slumber.” Says Stacy, eerily distant
“Haunting. Truly haunting. Why so
poetic?” Says Stella
“The dead and howling damned may
writhe, but they cannot change their damning lives.” Says Stacy
“You seem to be pretty lighthearted about
your whole ordeal to be waxing poetic about it.” Says Stella
“It takes a certain amount of reckless
abandon and consumptive insanity to be a poet.” Says Stacy
“You might have just found your
calling.” Says Stella
“If the shoe fits.” Says Stacy
“Let’s see if that schoolgirl shoe
still fits, shall we?” asks Stella
“It hurts my foot, but I still like to
wear it.” Says Stacy
“Wear it. Do your work.” Says Stella
“Happily.” Says Stacy
The girls do their work. Stacy closes
her book, looking satisfied.
“Do you ever just want to abandon
yourself? To let your personality and thoughts go unacknowledged, to beat them
thoroughly with incredulity to the point they are too weak, fearful, or unsure
of the validity of their own existence to come out of hiding deep within in the
pitch black confines of your mind, just to enjoy the peace and quiet that is
left in their absence. To let ghosts haunt your mind and take the reins of your
life, making your decisions, and replacing your own sentiments with their own.
It is a comforting fantasy, when I think of looking down at my body and having
complete dissociation from it, knowing that this bag of meat and bones that
rattles through the streets is not me, it is no longer Stacy, it is a
necromantic vessel, a horse ridden by ghosts into the abyss. I don’t want it. It
is a pleasant feeling of charity giving a home to the homeless ghosts, allowing
them to use my body to embark on a journey in hopes of resolving their
discontents, and allowing them to let go of the reasons they still haunt the
earth.” Says Stacy, dreamily
“It is almost tasteful how your god
complex and your fantastical dissociation from reality ebb and flow to create
this whimsical ambivalence where the only certainty is the infallible validity
of your whims.” Says Stella
“It would be hard to think and not put
at least some faith in the things you think, there’s not a point in thinking if
you don’t. Who would tell you that they don’t think the things they think are
what they think of what they are thinking about. That’s a profound dearth of
confidence to not believe in your own sentiments.” Says Stacy
“Reasonable people don’t put the faith
of a zealot behind everything they think.” Says Stella
“I’m not going to half-assedly believe
in myself. They don’t tell kids to maybe sort of kind of sometimes believe in
themselves.” says Stacy
“You act like God speaks directly through
your mind.” Says Stella
“Well, that’s what God does, he speaks
directly through people’s minds, I’m not going to take the chance that I’m
going to burn in a heretic’s hell for saying that the voice in my head is not
God, when it might be. Regardless of how improbable that scenario is, there’s
no reason to accommodate a reasonable failsafe.” Says Stacy
“I can’t argue with that, if only for
the reason that reasonability is completely subjective. In terms of the
impersonal general standards of reasonability, that would be like building a
bomb shelter in case God decides to smite the heretics of Bay City as he did
with Sodom and Gomorrah.” Says Stella
“So you’re telling me it’s common
sense.” Says Stacy
“Exactly.” Says Stella, sarcastically
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Says
Stacy
“On that note, you should take a bath;
you wouldn’t want to be dirty if the rapture happens tomorrow.” Says Stella
“I suppose I should, the meek shall
inherit the earth, you know?” says Stacy
“That’s because the proud are either
dead, burning in hell, or both.” Says Stella
“That makes me glad I am just a humble
servant of God, selflessly spreading his word.” Says Stacy
“Let’s just go back to faith in milk,
ok?” says Stella
“Who said we weren’t talking about
milk?” says Stacy
Stella rolls her eyes, Stacy laughs and
leaves to bathe and comes back, Stella still studying out of boredom.
“Have at it. I blessed the water for
you.” Says Stacy as she winks at her sister
“I’m sure milk will shower good fortune
upon me for the rest of my days.” Says Stella sarcastically as she gets up to
bathe.
“Faith in God will get you through the
darkest of nights.” Says Stacy
“I’m confused as to whether you mean
milk, yourself, or the literal divine being.” Says Stella
“They’re all one in the same. It’s
called the holy trinity.” says Stacy
“I’ll be sure to join your cult one
day. I’m ready to drink the milk right now, to be honest.” Says Stella, unentertained
as she exits the room, she returns.
“I’m still amazed that you never run
out of things that you think, you know.” Says Stella
“The things I think I know? No. I talk
of the things I know I think. The things I know I know are enough to stop me
from ever trying to think of thinks to know. I don’t want to know the things I
know, so instead of thinking of things I know or things to know I think of
things I know I think.” Says Stacy
“I think you know it’s time to sleep,
so off to sleep we go.” Says Stella
“Let us dream ‘til we be weaned from
dreams, until tomorrow, let’s enjoy the show.” Says Stacy
“Good night.” Says Stella, sleepily and
playfully entertained as she turns out the light
“Keep your sphincter tight.” Jokes
Stacy
“What?” asks Stella
“From ghoulies and ghosties, and
long-legged beasties, and things that go bump in the night.” Says Stacy
“Good lord, deliver us.” Says Stella,
at a loss for words as she crawls into bed before the girls fall asleep.
The morning sun bangs its fist on the
window, shouting, looking for the money it was owed. The girls oblige and
acknowledge the crisp, relentless, and ruthless reality that is delighted with
its lifeless existence, enjoying its role as an unquestioning and limitlessly
elaborate torture device, silently laughing haughtily and heartily as it basks
in the sunshine. The sun also haughty as it firmly takes its payment for its
show of mercy allowing the girls a brief respite into the world of dreams by
the ferry of darkness.
The girls rise from their slumber as
slaves rise, waking exhausted and returning to their toil without question or
complaint for they know they have no freedom to do otherwise lest they plan on
subverting the entirety of society. The girls enter the kitchen and begin to
eat.
“Do you ever miss your sanity? You weren’t always like this.” Asks Stella,
nonchalantly
“I do. I miss it every time I slap the
silly smiling rubber mask on my face and step into that indoctrination machine and
do the same happy song and dance as everyone else. We sing for the machine that
breaks the young wild horses and corrupts their minds to the point where the
only things they want are to don the garb of the cult of capitalism known as
business formal and to become so masochistic that they thoroughly enjoy
committing sensual hara-kiri via work death. That is what makes me miss my
sanity.” Says Stacy
“Such an iconoclast that the definition
of sanity makes your miss your own concept of sanity.” Says Stella
“I don’t follow.” Says Stacy
“If insanity is doing the same thing
expecting different results, school would be the opposite, they do the same
thing and expect the same results, hence the strictness and rigidity. They get
the results they want so they don’t change what they are doing.” Says Stella
“You are just saying that they are
systematically inducing insanity through scientifically reliable methods. If a
sadistic, manipulative, and psychopathic system is not insane, we’ve got plenty
of people in the institutions for no real reason, now, don’t we?” Says Stacy
“Sadly, the system tends to reward its
own behaviors, leaving those opposed to it to be antagonized, hence why
sadistic manipulative psychopaths are rich and powerful while the freedom
fighters opposed to such a society are deemed antisocial and put to death.”
Says Stella
“You seem to be content with that
reality.” Says Stacy
“Well, it’s pretty easy to be content
with the opinions of somebody who has the guns of poverty and imprisonment to
your head. Sorry I’m not bold enough to be voluntarily executed for some noble
whim. If you care so much, go ahead and bring society to its knees and force it
to change, why don’t you?” says Stella
“I’m not that crazy, I’m just saying
I’m discontented is all.” Says Stacy
“Why be indignant when you get to live
one of the most comfortable lives possible and are given such amazing
opportunities. 99% of the world is suffering and can do nothing about it, but
they still carry on and go about their business. You enjoy many of the greatest
luxuries and freedoms life can offer and it is still not enough to make you
even slightly grateful.” Says Stella
“I’m just saying things could be
better, not that they are all that bad.” Says Stacy, waveringly
“Make them better, ok? You are one of
the few people with that opportunity, take full advantage of it if you really
care.” says Stella, a bit upset
“You can go ahead and call me
Prudence.” says Stacy
“Let’s take full advantage of the
school day then, shall we, Prudence?” asks Stella
“Let me go get my silly smiling rubber
mask, I’m chomping at the bit.” Says Stacy, sarcastically
Stella rolls her eyes.
“I was always like this by the way,
just because I didn’t take that silly mask off around you doesn’t mean I wasn’t
wearing it.” Says Stacy
“Why hide behind the mask for so long,
Stacy?” asks Stella
“Self-preservation is the most basic of
instincts.” Says Stacy
“And you no longer have that instinct?”
says Stella
“I lay in wait, in the shadows,
sharpening my wits and my tongue, quietly biding my time until my blades were
sharp enough to draw blood.” Says Stacy
“Even in that allegory, society has
guns, and planes, and missiles, and you expect to take them down with your
blades?” asks Stella
“My only hope is that the revolution
has more soldiers than the enemy has bullets.” Says Stacy
“Vive la révolution.” Says Stella
“They will not kill the men serving as
the countless nameless pillars holding up their castle in the sky, it is up to
the nobility of the lowly to climb upon the backs of their brothers and lay
siege to the armies loyal to the soul crushing castle and spill the blood of
kings.” Says Stacy
“Sadly that has happened countless
times throughout history and never once have the regicidal men done anything
other than occupy the castle in the sky, proclaim themselves kings, and show
their brothers serving as the pillars of the castle the same level of
indifference towards the plight of the lowly as the previous kings.” Says
Stella
“Sadly, I am coming to the same
solution as everyone in the past. We simply murder everybody until there is not
a problem anymore. Whatever the problem was, it won’t be a problem if it’s
dead, so we just kill enough people to the point where are fairly confident
that the problem is gone.” Says Stella
“The people who are killing everybody
tend to be one of the problems, if not the only problem.” Says Stella
“Well, we can relax in our uniforms
once the job is done, drink artificially flavored sweetened water and ride into
heaven on a comet.” Says Stacy
“That is almost noble.” Says Stella
“And so the angels of the revelation
returned to heaven, their job was complete, as the earth had been cleansed of
the wicked and the damnable.” Says Stacy
“You think God would take these angels
back into heaven?” asks Stella
“The angels stand in front of the gates
of heaven and God bursts through the gates to them. He ushers his kin into
paradise where they imbibe the holy nectar in good faith until they are once
again called to serve the lord.” Says Stacy
“God did not question a single one of
their killings or their suicide?” asks Stacy
“God only said one thing as he threw
his body through the gates, exuberant upon the return of his family.” Says
Stacy
“And what was that?” asks Stella
“Oh Yeah!” shouts Stacy
“Fuck me.” Says Stella in disbelief
“Don’t shoot the messenger, it’s not
like I’m going to be calling the shots when that fateful day finally comes.”
Says Stacy
“Thanks for taking the time to share
your prophecy with me. Let’s go to school.” Says Stella, already exhausted from
her sister’s ramblings
“You wouldn’t want to forget the
sacrament, would you?” says Stacy, as she pours herself another glass of milk
“Heaven forbid.” Says Stella
sarcastically as she walks away to the door. “We’re going to school, dad.” Says
Stella
“Have fun.” He says
“Don’t die.” Says Stacy
“Don’t worry, even if you do, an
anthropomorphic pitcher of artificially flavored sweetened water will come
crashing through the gates to welcome you into heaven.” Says Stella
“That’s good.” He says sleepily
“Keep the faith.” Says Stacy, smiling
“Will do.” He says, yawning as the
girls exit
Their petite feet greet the sidewalk
producing the playful pitter-patter of dying, time marching in step alongside
them, each one indifferent to each other’s timely fate, a simple date where the
factuality of their existence slips back into the sea of unknowns where facts
and fiction swirl together simply because there is no entity that bothers to
distinguish or acknowledge the difference between the two.
“I think I might be addicted to school.
The desire to hear somebody or something that makes sense for once is so strong
I feel like I’m dying of thirst in a desert.” Says Stella
“You’ve been drinking way too much
school lately; I hope you don’t get the tremens this weekend.” Says Stacy
“Drunks find a way to drink on Sunday
morning, so I’m sure I’ll find a way.” Says Stella
“That’s the thinking of a true addict.
You should take better care of yourself.” Says Stacy
“It’s beyond that point; I’m just
trying not to die this weekend, I don’t know if I can last two entire days
without my drink of choice.” Says Stella
“There’s always books.” Says Stacy
“You talk a lot louder than books
though, Stacy. I will look at the book and feel like Tantalus.” Says Stella
“Such is an appropriate punishment for
your vice.” Says Stacy
“Clearly. Books are the devil. We must
instead listen to the prophets of God.” Says Stella, the dread of the weekend
clear in her voice
“Hallelujah.” Says Stacy
“Put the damn mask on already.” Says
Stella as the girls approach the gates of school, Stacy mimes putting on a mask
“I sure am excited for another
wonderful day of school, Stella.” Says Stacy, smiling and sounding sincere
“You scare me.” Says Stella dryly
“I hope my sincerity isn’t that
discomforting.” Says Stacy, cutely
“It is. I almost regret telling you to
put the mask on.” Says Stella
“What mask are you talking about,
silly?” asks Stella
“Go to class.” Says Stella
“You have fun too, ok?” says Stacy,
still acting cute
Stella breathes a sigh of relief as
they part ways.
Stacy joins the pleased masochists
below the deck of the slave ship, her companions already present.
“You’re happy this morning.” Says
Ophelia, smiling
“There’s nothing like a good swordfight
in the morning.” Says Stacy
“Who were you fighting?” asks Ophelia
“My sister, of course.” Says Stacy
“Why did she have a sword?” asks
Ophelia
“She thrust at me with blades of truth
and realism so I was forced to riposte with my blades of wit and ingenuity.”
Says Stacy
“Did you find some magical swords or
something?” asks Ophelia
“We have borne these accursed swords
for years, clashing constantly, yet one has never been able to defeat the other
in combat.” Says Stacy
“You really spend too much time with
your sister for it to cause you to start talking like that.” Says Ophelia
“Tis true.” Says Stacy
“So what happened again?” asked Ophelia
“We were just running our mouths off in
pointless debate.” Says Stacy
“Why debate if it’s pointless?” asks
Ophelia
“Well, I simply disagree with my sister
out of principle; it can be difficult sometimes because the world tends to
agree with her.” Says Stacy
“Why disagree then?” asks Ophelia
“Like I said, it is a matter of
principle. One Stella is enough, if I agreed with here I would simply cease to
exist and there would be two Stellas.” Says Stacy
“Isn’t she like super awesome at
everything? That doesn’t sound bad at all.” Says Ophelia
“She is a captain in the army of the
conformists, so I must take up arms as a soldier of the rebellion. If I do not
do this, when I look in the mirror in the morning, I will be greeted by
Stella.” Says Stacy
“You two look exactly the same though,
it wouldn’t be any different.” Says Ophelia
“The difference is in the eyes, in hers
the cold blue fires of the undead hive-mind; in mine the warm orange fires of
life.” Says Stacy
“Your eyes are blue, just like
Stella’s, Stacy; not orange.” Says Ophelia, matter-of-factly
“I take it you don’t see the fires in
people’s eyes.” Says Stacy
“Like literal colorful fires? No, I
can’t say that I do.” says Ophelia
“If you see the metaphorical fire in
someone’s eyes, it is not hard to determine the color.” Says Stacy
“That phrase means like passion or
something, it’s not a real fire, Stacy.” Says Ophelia
“There are many colors of passion.”
Says Stacy
“So what color is my passion?” asks
Ophelia
“A twinkling pastel pink, of course.”
Says Stacy, playfully
“Now I want to believe you. That’s so
cute.” Says Ophelia, flattered
Stacy laughs. The teacher taps on the
board as her unintelligible muffled words begin to slowly melt away at the
framework of reality moving slowly as if trapped in the molasses of space time
which flows, oozes, and drips about with a noticeable but unimpactful amount of
expediation as the phonetic exhaust warms the environment. The children swim
and some begin to melt into the amalgam singing along in a harmonious chorus.
Stacy has little interest in melting along, but enjoys the warmth. The day
flows and takes the shape of a warm viscous pleasure that envelops the
bepuddled children contorted by their social conformity that float unaffected
by gravity through the medium of liquid bearing the same consistency but still
retains its distinct individuality. The lunch bell sounds and the children no
longer float as a uniform semi-fluid but have taken their own distinct but
equally meaningless forms that still behave according to the principles of
allegorical fluid dynamics.
The girls grab their lunch and eat
outside once again.
“My mind can slip away into pleasant
dreams but the cold hard surfaces of reality serve as tactile omens looming in
the back of my mind quietly reminding me of the futility of my escapism.” Says
Stacy
“So you really did learn to sleep with
your eyes open?” jokes Jenna
“I’ve been told I should dare to dream
many times. Why not listen to sage advice?” says Stacy
“They tell you that in the hopes that
you make your dreams a reality.” Says Jenna
“Well, I would say I’m doing a good job
of that.” Says Stacy
“You’re just believing that your dreams
are reality.” Says Jenna
“It’s comfortable in the cave. Why
would I want to leave?” says Stacy
“You don’t consider Plato a source of
sage advice?” asks Jenna
“I did listen, why would I leave this
cave only to enter another cave when I like the cave I am in better?” says
Stacy
“It should be some natural thirst for
knowledge that causes you to do so.” Says Jenna
“But I already know the reality of this
cave and the next, and I simply prefer the former. I would venture deeper into
the cave, into the wholesome darkness, but tactility serves as the chains that
bind me, always to be tortured by the shadows that dance across the wall.” Says
Stacy
“We are outside; we are not in a cave.”
Says Ophelia
“It is a cave.” Says Stacy
“It is the second cave in the allegory,
but a cave none the less.” Says Jenna
“Do you want me to go ask people? I
have never felt so confident in my ability to win an argument.” Says Ophelia
“It depends on who you ask.” Says Jenna
“It would be hard to find somebody who
thinks we are in a cave right now.” Says Ophelia
“It would be easier than you think.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t even want to do it because I
would look stupid for asking.” Says Ophelia
“Staunch realism has served the animals
well; it is hard to argue with your stance on the matter.” Says Jenna
“Then don’t. We’re not in a cave. The
end. I win.” Says Ophelia, dumbfounded
“The truth is that people who have
never left the cave are the ones who do not know they are in one.” Says Stacy
“We will take a trip to a cave; I will
show you what they look like. I know for a fact that we are not in a cave right
now. I am amazed that we are having this conversation right now.” Says Ophelia
“You’re right. You win. We tried to
pull a fast one on you, but you’re just too damn clever.” Says Stacy, chuckling
“That was like the slowest fast one the
world has ever seen.” Says Ophelia
“It caught Jenna off guard though, who
would have thought you were faster than Jenna?” asks Stacy
“I am still amazed at that. I am
honestly let down that she tricked you with that.” Says Ophelia
“She is a very tricky little girl. What
can I do?” Says Jenna
“It was the magic the tricky demon
taught me from his book, it warps the minds of those whose hearts are impure.”
Says Stacy
“Wow Stacy, that’s awful. I’ll heal
your heart, Jenna. Just wait.” Says Ophelia
“It is probably too late for that.”
Says Jenna
“You have to be strong. I’ll save you,
I can’t let you keep falling victim to the demon’s tricks.” Says Ophelia
“Why did you believe her that time?”
asks Jenna
“That seems like something Stacy would
actually do, I wouldn’t put it past her. It’s like the only possible reason you
could have possibly been tricked like that.” Says Ophelia
“That’s a good point.” Says Jenna
“Stacy, try to use that magic to do
good things, don’t just trick people to be evil.” Says Ophelia
“Ok. I’m sorry, Jenna.” Says Stacy,
feigning apologetics
“I forgive you.” Says Jenna
“Good. Don’t show anybody that trick
either, you don’t want people getting suspicious of you. I don’t even know how
you found a demon to begin with.” Says Ophelia
“Don’t worry about it, he was a lovable
demon.” Says Stacy
“That’s good.” Says Ophelia
“You want your milk, Ophie?” asks Stacy
“You aren’t going to use your magic to
trick me into giving it to you, are you?” asks Ophelia
“Umm.. no?” says Stacy
“Ok, then you can have it.” Says
Ophelia
Stacy drinks the milk. “Oldest trick in
the book.” She says
“You didn’t trick me. I’m just nice.”
Says Ophelia
“And you still don’t even know it.”
Says Stacy
“What did you do?” asks Ophelia
“She’s tricking you into thinking she
tricked you when she didn’t do anything.” Says Jenna
“Gotcha.” Says Stacy devilishly
“That doesn’t even count.” Says Ophelia
“It doesn’t matter, let’s go, we don’t
want to be late.” Says Jenna as the second bell rings.
The girls head their club, everyone in
attendance coasting their way to the end of the school week. The girls are
greeted by their new friends at their post in the back as Aurelia addresses the
class as soon as everybody arrives.
“I know it’s Friday and most of you have
probably had enough learning, so just have fun today and remember that we’re
going to the shelter tomorrow, so if you’re coming meet us at school at 9:00.”
Says Aurelia, the class shuffles about, a bit more aimless than usual
“Did you ever find that boyfriend you
were looking for Ophelia?” asks Isabelle
“Sadly, no. I still have no idea what
to do about it.” Says Ophelia
“Why are we talking about boys if none
of us know anything about them?” Says Stacy
“I’m sure we know something.” Says Ophelia
“I know my dad likes to drink and watch
television.” Says Stacy
“I know my brother is an asshole.” Says
Grace
“My dad likes to work.” Says Isabelle
“My dad loves church.” Says Ophelia
“Well clearly talking about brothers
and dads isn’t going to help us. Why not just talk about what kind of boy you
are looking for?” asks Jenna
“I want a strong, noble, elegant, and
charming man.” Says Ophelia
“Who would have guessed?” Says Stacy
dryly
“What about you guys?” asks Ophelia
“I don’t know, hardworking and diligent
probably.” Says Jenna
“I would look for somebody fun. What’s
the point if I’m not having fun?” Says Isabelle
“I don’t want one. Who wants to spend
time with some mean, aggressive, pompous idiot anyways?” Says Stacy
“Don’t beat yourself up like that.”
Jokes Ophelia,
“I’m just glad the feeling is mutual.”
Says Stacy
“I agree with Stacy. I’ve had enough of
my brother and his friends for one lifetime.” Says Grace
“That’s different because he’s your
brother. I’m sure there’s a man out there that will treat you right.” Says
Ophelia
“Every story I’ve ever heard ends in
depression, heartbreak, legal problems, violence, and or otherwise death.” Says
Grace
“Real life isn’t like the movies.
Nobody ever tells the stories of the happy couples because they’re boring.”
Says Isabelle
“I guess I’ll put boredom on that list
too, then.” Jokes Grace
“Of all the possible outcomes, boredom
doesn’t seem that bad.” Says Jenna
“That’s a gamble I would rather not
take.” Says Grace
“I’m with you, the only reason people
gamble is because they think they will win regardless of the fact that
experience proves that they never do. It’s just a fantasy that drives people
into delusion.” Says Stacy
“You could always just be lucky and
meet the right guy.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll use my luck on lottery tickets;
at least I’m not going to be abused if I don’t win.” Says Stacy
“How many people in abusive
relationships do you even know?” asks Isabelle
“Too many.” Says Stacy
“That’s sad; it’s like avoiding cars in
general because of a few horror stories.” Says Isabelle
“Where I might need a car to get to
work, I don’t need a man for anything. It’s a luxury at best, a burden with
average luck and a death sentence if you’re unlucky.” Says Stacy
“You don’t feel lucky?” ask Ophelia
“I consider myself fairly prone to bad
luck.” Says Stacy
“Don’t let your superstitions get the
better of you.” Says Isabelle
“I’ll just err on the side of caution,
I have enough trouble putting on a façade for my teachers, there’s no way I
could do that 24/7 for some man.” Says Stacy
“You don’t have to put on a charade for
a man to like you.” Says Jenna
“You seem to overestimate my
personability.” Says Stacy
“What other abilities does somebody
have besides the person ability?” asks Ophelia
“Personability just means being a pleasant
person, Ophelia.” Says Jenna
“Oh. You are pleasant, Stacy, in a kind
of weird way sometimes, but maybe some kind of weird guy will like you a lot.”
Says Ophelia
“That sounds like a recipe for
disaster.” Says Stacy
“Or true love.” Says Ophelia
“That’s a laugh.” Says Stacy
“I have seen too many girls our age get
pregnant and have their lives ruined. There’s no way I would want to give up on
school and work for minimum wage the rest of my life because some man knocked
me up and I’ve got to put my life on hold to take care of the baby I don’t even
want.” Says Grace
“I can’t believe you watch those
shows.” Says Isabelle
“Besides that, hanging around boys they
will want to get you drunk and give you drugs so they can take advantage of
you.” Says Grace
“You really think that?” asks Ophelia
“I’m pretty sure my brother isn’t lying
about the disgusting things he brags about seeing happen at parties.” Says
Grace
“It’s like playing with fire, it might
be pretty or keep you warm but it could easily engulf you in flames.” Says
Stacy
“We’re still young. I’m sure we will
figure out how to handle these scenarios safely in the future.” Says Jenna
“Yeah, there wouldn’t be so many love
stories if they weren’t based on the truth, you know?” says Ophelia
“I’ll just ride in my flying car into
my space-station on Mars where I keep my dragon and say hello to my perfect
boyfriend while I’m there.” Says Stacy, sarcastically
The girls laugh, Ophelia rolls her eyes
“Wouldn’t you get lonely without any
company?” asks Jenna
“I would still have friends.” Says
Grace
“And on those long lonely nights?”
teases Isabelle
“I’ve been fine for the last 14 years.
Even then I can get a dog or something.” Says Grace
“I would prefer a dog and I don’t even
like dogs. You end up with a dog one way or the other.” Says Stacy
“The dog would actually love me.” Says
Grace
“You’re plenty lovable Grace, don’t
worry about that.” Says Isabelle
“Familiarity breeds contempt.” Says
Grace
“I’m delighted every time I see you.”
Says Isabelle
“You don’t live with me.” Says Grace
“You practically do live with me,
though.” Says Isabelle
“Still, a man expects much different
things from a woman than another woman does.” Says Grace
“You get to expect different things
from a man than you do a woman, though.” Says Isabelle
“It’s more like the same things and a
lot of worse things on top of that.” Says Grace
“It’s not all bad.” Says Isabelle
“It’s pretty much all bad.” Says Grace
“I wouldn’t write them all off so
quickly. We don’t even know that many.” Says Jenna
“I’m thinking it’s like spending time
trying to maintain a car. Unless that baby is a classic, it’s not worth it in
the end, and the car ends up in the junkyard.” Says Stacy
“Then I guess I’ll find a classic.”
Says Ophelia
“How many classic cars do you see
driving around?” asks Stacy
“I don’t really know what one is.” Says
Ophelia
“The sad part is, most people neglected
their cars that would become classics and they deteriorated along with the rest
of the nameless unremarkable cars. Regardless of their beauty and quality,
their owners, largely men, did not appreciate what they had and they let it rot
and die.” Says Stacy
“That sounds like a reasonable
explanation of relationships.” Says Grace
“My parents are doing fine.” Says Isabelle
“Just because it drives doesn’t mean
it’s in good condition. People who need a car to take them somewhere settle for
what they can get.” Says Stacy
“Why not just settle for what you can
get?” asks Ophelia
“For me, that would be like buying a
junker and pouring time, effort, energy, and money into it just to keep it
coughing along the street until it inevitably becomes unfixable. At that point
my investment has amounted to nothing. I’m just saying I could use my resources
more wisely.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to aim higher than a
junker, Stacy.” Says Ophelia
“We’re talking about what I can get not
some fantasy in a magazine.” Says Stacy
“It’s a shame when Hollywood sells the
appeal of men professionally and most of them are still undesirable. Just think
about how riddled with character flaws the average man would be.” Says Grace
“We all have flaws.” Says Ophelia
“Why would I want to look at something
that reminds me of my own flaws and shortcomings? I can just look at my sister
any time I want that.” Says Stacy
“You can still love him regardless of
his flaws and shortcomings.” Says Ophelia
“Even if you do he will still hold
every one of yours against you.” Says Grace
“You girls are heartless. I’d still
love a dog even if he scratched me and barked sometimes for no reason.” Says Isabelle
“That literally translates into
physical and verbal abuse coming out of a man.” Says Grace
“Men are dogs, just worse dogs. If I
wanted a dog, I would get a dog.” Says Stacy
“There are some well trained dogs out
there.” Says Jenna
“It shouldn’t be hard to find a half
way decent one.” Says Isabelle
“Dogs are well trained because they are
easily imposed upon and satisfied with doing simple tasks for attention and
treats. A man cannot be imposed upon and will likely never be satisfied with
anything you give him.” Says Grace
“I’m sure you can find a way to impose
upon a man and subsequently satisfy him.” says Isabelle
“That sort of thinking easily goes both
ways, and it is a pretty one sided battle.” Says Grace
“You girls are like anarchists throwing
Molotov cocktails into the optimism factory.” Says Isabelle
“They’re just naïve.” Says Ophelia
“You got us. That explains our thinking
entirely, childish naivety.” Says Stacy dryly
“When you get older and more mature you
will be able to open your hearts.” Says Ophelia, loftily
“Your heart is like your front door, if
you keep it open, people will walk right in and take what they want from you
and leave, simply because you let them.” Says Grace
“I will be so welcoming that they don’t
want to leave.” Says Ophelia
“You will learn quickly that you really
don’t want a lot of those people in your house.” Says Stacy
“Well I’ll just hope the right person
stops by so I can lock the door and keep my true love warm inside.” Says
Ophelia
“At least they haven’t crushed your spirits.”
Says Jenna, disheartened
“I feel like it’s my responsibility to
guard that house in the meantime, if you’re not going to do it, Ophelia.” Says
Stacy
“If you’re so consumed by love, just
think of how terrible the heartbreak will be.” Says Grace
“She has a point.” Says Isabelle
“Love heals all wounds.” Says Ophelia
“That would be time. There are also
things called mortal wounds, but you clearly didn’t listen when we explained
that a minute ago, so we can save that review for later.” Says Stacy
“You really should be careful,
Ophelia.” Says Jenna
“You are going about this pretty recklessly;
I would be concerned if your friends didn’t keep such a close eye on you.” Says
Isabelle
“It’s almost like we have to take turns
sleeping, I can sleep well with her father watching over her, but there is that
time between us parting ways and her arriving home that I fear for her life.”
Says Stacy
“You’re just afraid some noble knight
will come sweep up your dear Ophelia and ride off into the sunset with her.”
Says Ophelia
“Other than the noble knight part that
is exactly what I am worried about. They don’t have to sweep you off your feet
if you fall head over heels into their white panel van.” Says Stacy
“I know better than that.” Says Ophelia
“That is a good sign.” Says Jenna
“Don’t give her too much credit. We
wouldn’t want to stop at least trying to teach her something.” Says Stacy
“You’re just as hardheaded as she is;
you just have opposite opinions on the matter.” Says Isabelle
“Well, my hardheaded opinions don’t
land me in the back of a panel van. That’s all I’m saying.” Says Stacy
“It is better to err on the side of
caution.” Says Jenna
“You’ve got to live every now and again
though.” Says Isabelle
“I agree, with emphasis on the live
part, as a matter of fact, I try to live all the time, remarkably enough.” Says
Stacy
“Is it really living if you don’t
love?” asks Ophelia
“Is it really living if you are dead?”
asks Stacy
“No, I guess not.” Says Ophelia
“You actually learned your lesson?”
asks Stacy
“If you don’t love it’s like you’re
already dead, so being dead isn’t any different at that point.” Says Ophelia
“Being dead means you’re gone forever.
Even if you never find love I’ll still get to enjoy your company.” Says Stacy
“We all get to enjoy your company,
which is much more preferable than the alternative.” says Grace
“I won’t want to be alive if I never
find love.” Says Ophelia
“I’m just telling you not to go about
it in a foolish way, not that you shouldn’t look for love at all.” Says Stacy
“I’ll try to be careful I guess. It’s
not like anything bad has happened anyways.” Says Ophelia
“Things can become very bad very
quickly if you’re not careful. That’s just what we’re trying to tell you.” Says
Jenna
“People tried to tell me a lot more
than just that, thankfully I’m not taking such foolish things to heart.” Says
Ophelia
“At least we can say we tried.” Says
Stacy
“I tried too, and in the end neither of
us changed our opinions.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure there was a little compromise
in there somewhere.” Says Grace
“That’s good, it would be a shame if we
all talk and nobody listens.” Says Ophelia
“Agreed.” Says Stacy
The bell rings and the girls make their
way to the courtyard.
“Do you three want to come over to my
place? Grace is coming. You can spend the night if you want.” Says Isabelle
“Sure, that sounds great.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure I can hang out for a bit, I
don’t know how late I can stay though.” Says Jenna
“Definitely!” says Ophelia
The girls leave their school and trek
down the city streets, the affluence slowly grows around them as they venture
closer to their destination. They stroll past houses surrounded by fences and
gates, the fences growing more so elegant along with their accompanying houses,
they arrive at the gates of a quaint, elegant, and modest mansion wrapped in
glowing pastel yellow paint gilded with complimentary masonry of a similar hue.
A brick road strode through the garden where a middle aged Eastern European
woman dressed in modest yet formal garb watered the plants.
“You have brought company.” She says
“Hey Daria, these are some friends from
school, Stacy, Jenna, and Ophelia.” Says Isabelle
“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Says
Daria
“Daria looks after things like the
house and the garden.” Says Isabelle
“And you of course.” Says Daria smiling
“The garden is beautiful.” Says Jenna
“Thank you. I enjoy it, it is a bit
like painting, but your masterpiece is alive and you must care for it.” Says
Daria
“We’ll be inside, don’t worry about us.
Enjoy the sun while it still shines.” Says Isabelle
“Thank you. Let me know if I can get
you anything.” Says Daria
“I’ll try to be the hostess you taught
me to be.” Says Isabelle
“It will be good practice with this
many people.” Says Daria
“It should be easy, you trained me
after all.” Says Isabelle
Daria laughs pleasantly and the girls
walk indoors. The brightly colored walls match the exterior, radiating a golden
aura as they drink the sunshine flooding through the copious elegant windows.
The presence of archways in place of doors to separate the rooms gave the house
the airs of a roman palace.
“You can put your bags on the coat
hooks, I’m sure it will be a relief to get that weight off your shoulders. I’ll
put a kettle on.” Says Isabelle as the girls walk into the kitchen, sitting at
a table
“My sister would think you are taking
her lifejacket and throwing her into the ocean.” Says Stacy
“Your sister is kind of right though,
those books are the only thing keeping us afloat in this world.” Says Jenna
“I would say that we’re sitting on a
boat, but once we’re out of school they just throw us into the ocean. Most
people don’t seem to end up with lifejackets.” Says Isabelle
“You could just swim over to your own
boat, Isabelle.” Jokes Grace
“I’ve been on this boat for too long
already. I could use a change of pace.” Says Isabelle
“It is a modest dream to sail that ocean
with the other lonely boatmen in their rickety rafts hoping for fair weather
and a fish.” Says Stacy
“It is easily the only form of
adventure left in this world; it would be a shame to waste away in this castle
doing nothing with my life.” Says Isabelle
“Adventuring is dangerous; lots of
ghouls and ghosts lay in wait to wreak havoc on their unsuspecting victims.”
Says Grace
“I’ve got my wits about me. I’m not
concerned.” Says Stacy
“Wits
tend to be the tools of tricksters. Diligence will reward you more handsomely.”
Says Jenna
“I’m
still waiting for my handsome reward.” Says Ophelia
“I’m armed with the spirit of adventure
and protected by my unbreakable will. I’ll have no trouble turning the world
asunder in search of places to pillage and plunder. In a good way, of course.”
Says Isabelle
“The world rewards those willing to
plunder opportunities; the meek are simply imposed upon and taken for granted.”
Says Jenna
“Fix yourselves some tea if you care
for some, we’ve got black, green, a whole rainbow of flavors.” Says Isabelle
“What happened to being a hostess?”
jokes Grace
“You want me to spoon feed you and wash
you too, don’t you?” asks Isabelle
“There’s just a certain level of
hospitality that one comes to expect from a hostess.” Says Grace
“I’m an amateur; at least I put the
kettle on.” Says Isabelle
“Helping others to help themselves is
far more efficient than simply helping others.” Says Stacy
“It’s true. It is the difference between
carrying somebody and giving them a helping hand.” Says Jenna
“Well, somebody give me a helping hand.
I don’t know which one I’m supposed to make.” Says Ophelia
Stacy walks over to help her “Pick this
one, it says Irish, I’m sure you will like it.” She says
“I was going to, but it also says
breakfast, and then I was confused.” Says Ophelia
“Plenty of people eat frozen waffles
for dinner. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Says Stacy
“Ok. What are you going to have?” Says
Ophelia
“Earl Grey.” says Stacy
“A fine choice indeed.” Says Isabelle
“A populist, I see.” Says Grace
“It’s hard to argue with the people’s
champion.” Says Stacy
“I didn’t think you would have trouble
arguing with anybody, Stacy.” Says Ophelia
“I try not to pick fights I can’t win.”
Says Stacy
“It’s pretty hard to lose at having an
opinion.” Says Jenna
“So long as you have the popular
opinion.” Says Grace
“An unpopular opinion can easily be
denigrated to the point where it ceases to be an opinion and instead becomes a
vulgar atrocity.” Says Isabelle
“Perhaps in the eyes of the common man,
but an opinion will always have its faithful, even if they are deemed insane or
occult.” Says Stacy
“Still, it is the eyes of one’s
comrades that one should seek to please before those of the everyman. Their
companionship is more valuable than your societal amalgamation.” Says Isabelle
“I see you’re trying to gain the trust
of the hipsters drinking that chai.” Says Grace
“Drunkards are not the only ones who
drink beer. This is a fine blend regardless of its affiliation with the likes
of the faux iconoclast.” Says Isabelle
“I doubt that an Asian would think any
better of me for drinking green tea.” Says Jenna
“That’s basically like drinking water
over there though.” Says Stacy
“Classy water.” Says Jenna
“I don’t even know a stereotype about
your mint tea. The only one I can think of is that you stereotypically drink
it.” Says Isabelle
“She loves the holidays?” says Ophelia
“Merry Christmas. It’s always warm in
Bay City; it just makes sense to cool off.” Says Grace
“It’s just a sensory illusion, just
like how hot sauce isn’t physically hot.” Says Jenna
“It’s a damn good illusion though.”
Says Grace
“It’s hard to argue with that. One’s
own reality is defined by how one is experiencing reality as opposed to the
physical reality itself. The only issue is when the two don’t line up and one
is forced to believe in either their own sensory experience or the physical
reality that contradicts it.” Says Jenna
“I think there can be a harmony between
the two.” Says Grace
“Like Schrodinger’s Cat. It only
becomes an issue when it gets checked by an outside force, otherwise both are
simultaneously true, or at least effectively true to the observer.” Says
Isabelle
“Explain the part about the cat again.”
Says Ophelia, confused
“There’s not really a cat involved,
unless you want to hear a sad story.” Says Isabelle
“No thanks.” Says Ophelia
“I can see the part about Schrodinger’s
Cat right here. We all are talking as if we know what we’re talking about, and
since none of us know enough about what we’re talking about to contradict each
other, we’re effectively correct, but easily incorrect at the same time.” Says
Stacy
“There’s the cat again.” Says Ophelia
“But is it alive or dead?” says
Isabelle
“In the allegory that is based on amount
of radiation absorbed by the cat, which in our case is our ignorance, so it is
more than likely dead at this point, but since there is a small possibility
that the cat is alive, and since it is unknown to us, we can just be optimistic
and say that the cat is alive and well.” Says Stacy
“I like it when the cat is alive. Let’s
go with that.” Says Ophelia
“I think I kind of know what I’m
talking about.” Says Jenna
“I’m just giving myself the benefit of
the doubt.” Says Stacy
“Same.” Says Isabelle
“How do you all know about all of these
things?” asks Ophelia
“Reading.” Says Jenna
“I just tend to get the gist of
something and lather it in arrogance.” Says Stacy
“I pick things up from the television,
internet, people, et cetera. I’m always willing to learn something if it’s
interesting.” Says Isabelle
“I just go along with whatever people
are saying.” Says Grace
“You girls want to shoot some pool?”
asks Isabelle
“Sure. I am familiar with the game.”
Says Stacy
“I’ve never played.” Says Jenna
“Same.” Says Ophelia
“Jenna is a bit of a shark, but I’ll
weigh her down. We’ll let you have an extra shot every round so it’s fair.”
Says Isabelle as they walk through the house and head downstairs into the
basement. They are greeted with an expansive lounge lit by a seductively lonely
table lamp. The room enveloped by warm wooden molding dressed with a succulent
crimson shirt adorned with noble filigree. An art deco taproom light over the
pool table is flicked on, releasing an emulsion of warm orange light that
bathed the room in the friendliness of a familiar bar.
“Rack ‘em up. I’ll get the cues. ” Says
Isabelle. Grace racks up the balls.
“Watch Grace, she’ll show you the
proper teqnique.” Says Isabelle
Grace chalks up her fingers and breaks
the balls. “It’s that simple. Your shot.” She says
Stacy imitates Grace and shoots, the
ball lazily curves and taps a few balls.
“It’s more about finesse than power;
you put too much behind your shot and lost control.” Says Grace
“Still your go.” Says Isabelle
“So I just want to hit the other balls
with the white one?” asks Ophelia
“Just don’t sink the 8-ball and you’re
golden.” Says Grace
Ophelia tries to emulate Grace, scuffs
the ball and it quietly rolls towards nothing.
“That’s usually a scratch, but who
cares.” Says Grace
Isabelle strikes a colored ball into
the corner pocket.
“Now you only want to put the striped
balls in. Save the 8 ball for last and you win.” Says Grace
“Simple enough.” Says Stacy
Jenna lines up a shot and gently taps
in a striped ball into the adjacent corner pocket.
“We may yet have ourselves a game. You
said you’ve never played?” Says Isabelle
“I just took the time to think about
it. Line them up and ease the cue into the center of the ball. I doubt I could
do that across the entire table though.” Says Jenna
“Sometimes you’ve got to do a bit more
than ease it, not always.” Says Isabelle as she takes a shot across the table, skirting a colored
ball, her target hitting the side wall and bouncing back.
“It’s a matter of angles, when it comes
down to it. You hit it at due south and it goes north, south east and it goes
north west.” Says Isabelle
“You might have bitten off more than
you can chew challenging Jenna to a game about angles.” Jokes Stacy as she
shoots, knocking some balls around indiscriminantly
Ophelia strikes a ball with an
uninhibited path towards the corner pocket, but the ball runs out of steam
before it gets there. “At least it went straight.” Says Ophelia
“Straight is just one of the 360 angles
you must master in this game.” Says Isabelle
“That’s pretty good for a beginner
though. You set up your teammates for an easy shot, and you made mine harder in
the process, too.” Says Grace as she takes a shot and sinks a colored ball with
a shot similar to Ophelia’s.
Jenna sinks the ball Ophelia had set up
easily, the cue ball not having left that end of the table.
“When you get more advanced, you will
be able to visualize the angles of bouncing the cue ball off of the walls a few
times and still accurately predict the angle of impact with your target.” Says
Isabelle as she takes a wild shot off of the walls which bounces around thrice
and hits a cluster of balls still lingering in the middle
“You could have just struck those with
a straight shot.” Says Grace
“I’m just entertaining them with
advanced strategic maneuvers.” Says Isabelle
Stacy takes a shot, also hitting a
cluster of balls without any intention of sinking them. “I’ll get one sooner or
later.” Says Stacy
“Focus on one of them, not all of
them.” Says Grace
Ophelia lines up her shot but scuffs
the cue ball again, overcompensating for her lack of power on the previous
attempt.
“Take your time. A little effort goes a
long way.” Says Isabelle
“Just like in school, just enough to
get the job done.” Jokes Stacy
“While I agree with that in school, in
pool you can gain an advantage if you can place the cue ball in a difficult
position for your opponent after you shoot, if you watch the pro’s they’re
amazing at it.” Says Grace a she sinks a lonely ball in the corner pocket.
“There’s professional pool?” asks
Ophelia
“There’s professional everything.” Says
Grace
“I bet this game is popular among
business types, people competing to accomplish the same thing all while
sabotaging your competitor’s efforts to do so.” Says Stacy
“Most people don’t really go that far.”
Says Isabelle
“Most people aren’t successful either.
Nice guys finish last, so they say.” Says Stacy
Jenna takes her shot, skimming the side
of a ball allowing it to roll into the side pocket.
“Where’d you learn to play this game?”
asks Stacy
“It’s not that hard if you think about
it, the angles and whatnot.” Says Jenna
“I guess my brain isn’t some kind of
physics computer.” Says Stacy
“You’ve just got to turn it on. You’ve
taken geometry.” Says Stella
“You’re telling me to rev up the old
brain on a Friday afternoon? That baby needs to rest.” Says Stacy
“It’s not like you can turn your brain
off anyways.” Says Ophelia
“You underestimate my power.” Jokes
Stacy
Isabelle takes a straight shot at a
ball towards the opposite side pocket, sinking it.
“Sometimes you can get away without
thinking too much.” Says Isabelle
“I’ll try to work some of the magic
numbers.” Says Stacy as she lines up a shot. She hits the 8 ball into striped
ball that rolls into the corner pocket.
“You can’t hit the 8-ball first, you have
to hit one of your own colors, but it doesn’t matter if we’re just shooting
around.” Says Grace
“Duly noted, it is a good feeling to
get one in regardless.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think I can hit any of the
striped ones.” Says Ophelia
“I’d just crash it into any of them.
The real satisfaction comes from the clacks; it’s like a round of applause.”
Says Isabelle
“Try to hit it off of the wall or
something. It’s worth a shot. You need more love for the game, Isabelle.” Says
Grace, disapprovingly
“The game doesn’t love me. If the pool
gods gave me your long arms maybe I would feel differently about it.” Says
Isabelle
Ophelia shoots the ball off of the wall
and hits nothing.
“Good try. Respecting the fundamentals
is important.” Says Grace
“The important part of the fundamentals
is the fun part.” Says Isabelle
Grace takes a shot; the ball rattles
around the outskirts of the corner pocket but is reluctant to fall in.
Jenna lines up a shot across the table,
but the touch is too light.
“The balls want you to crack them hard,
they don’t clap for you if you don’t.” says Isabelle as she takes a hard shot
at a cluster of balls scattering them, one of them rolls into the far pocket.
“Sadly this game is not completely free
from the luck of fools.” Says Grace
“It is a foolish game, what did you
expect?” says Isabelle
Stacy takes a hard shot, knocking a few
balls into each other and sinking one of hers. “Lady Luck is kind indeed, why
not have faith?” says Stacy
“I’ve never been lucky so I’ll stick
with the actual advice.” Says Ophelia, lining up a shot, only to miss the
target and scratch the cue.
“Told you.” Says Ophelia
“It happens to the best of us.” Says
Grace, grabbing the cue ball and putting it on the table for an easy shot on the
ball she previously missed
Jenna shoots across the table again,
this time with enough force to drive the ball into the corner pocket.
“Who would have guessed Grace found
somebody who can go toe to toe with her.” Says Isabelle
“It’s just beginners luck. It’s not the
angles as much as the physical finesse I’m lacking.” Says Jenna
“You’ve even got me taking a wild shot
across the table. You’re a natural.” Says Isabelle as she shoots towards the
end of the table and misses her target.
Stacy lines up a shot which bounces off
the wall near the pocket. “Rub some of your talent on me Jenna.” She says
“Me too.” Says Ophelia as she shoots,
hitting her target towards the center of the table.
“You have to think about where you want
it to go, aim for the right side if you want it to go left or the left side if
you want it to go right, it’s a blend of forward and sideways after that.” Says
Jenna
“That easily could have gone in if you
put some power behind it.” Says Isabelle
“The last thing we need is more wild
pool players. Don’t listen to her.” Says Grace as she sinks the last colored
ball without any real effort
Jenna hits Ophelia’s ball into the
pocket.
“You’re amazing.” Says Ophelia
“You got me halfway there.” Says Jenna
“Pity you set me up for an easy shot on
the 8-ball.” Says Isabelle
“Let’s hope you don’t send it flying
off the table.” Says Grace
“I can collect myself in clutch
situations.” Says Isabelle as she shoots and sinks the 8 ball into the side
pocket.
“So you win?” asks Stacy
“If we were playing normally I guess,
but it’s good we didn’t since there’s no point in watching Grace sink all the
balls while you just stand there.” Says Isabelle
“You act like I didn’t miss at all.”
Says Grace
“You missed one, barely.” Says Isabelle
“I’m sure Jenna would have done a
number on the second rack.” Says Grace
“I’m not so sure about that.” Says
Jenna
“I still didn’t get any.” Says Ophelia
“I got one, apparently it was illegal,
but it still felt good.” Says Stacy
“You can practice and try to sink the
rest of them Ophelia.” Says Grace
“We might be here all day.” Says
Ophelia
“It’s not like we have anywhere else to
go.” Says Isabelle
“That’s a nice TV; I don’t think I’ve
ever seen one that big.” Says Stacy
“It’s not that big. My dad loves his
sports. I don’t understand the appeal seeing the sweat on people’s bodies and
of hearing the shouting and grunting of grown men in surround sound.” Says
Isabelle
“Every man wants to be a professional
athlete, it’s just immersion in the fantasy to make it seem like you’re down on
the field.” Says Grace
“I think everybody wants to be a
professional athlete though.” Says Isabelle
“So I can have a few hundred people in
a stadium that holds thousands watch me play basketball while I provide a
modest living for myself being the laughing stock of the sporting world.” Says
Grace
“Yeah, I don’t think I even know of any
women’s sports teams.” Says Stacy
“Sports are kind of a guy thing. It’s
kind of sad that these women are basically athletic perfection and women would
rather watch silly romances than their own gender play sports at its highest
level.” Says Jenna
“Romances are not silly.” Says Ophelia
“You’ve got the body of an athlete
Jenna, you don’t play any sports?” asks Isabelle
“I try to focus on my schoolwork. I’m
not really the competitive type either. The risks of getting hurt and having my
grades slip isn’t worth it to me. I play around sometimes, but I don’t think I
could be serious about it.” Says Jenna
“It is a huge commitment. If you don’t
have the right amount of aggression I’m sure the sporty girls would tear you
apart anyways.” Says Grace
“She is pretty reserved. She would
probably give the opponent the ball if they asked politely.” Jokes Stacy
“Didn’t they ask you to be a wrestler
Stacy?” Teases Ophelia
“Don’t remind me of that. That’s got to
be one of the weirdest sports.” Says Stacy
“I think you would make a great
wrestler, you’re pretty feisty.” Says Isabelle
“Maybe I could do it; I just think at
our school it might attract the wrong kind of people.” Says Stacy
“What do you mean?” says Grace
“The kind of people who tell me they
want my body.” Says Stacy
“They were just saying you had the
perfect body type was all.” Says Jenna
“Yeah, they basically made fun of us.”
Says Ophelia
Isabelle and Grace laugh. “What did
they say?” asks Isabelle
“They said my assets would weigh me
down and they said Jenna had too many bones and organs and stuff.” Says Ophelia
“That’s rich.” Says Isabelle
“If you talk to nearly any other girls,
plenty of them would want either of your bodies, tall and athletic or
voluptuous. I wouldn’t be too concerned with the opinions of wrestlers.” Says
Grace
“The swim team wanted Jenna, I feel
kind of bad that none of the sports wanted Ophelia.” Says Stacy
“She is more equipped for the most
dangerous game. Man hunting.” Says Grace
“That seems to be her only passion, so
God must have been looking out for her.” Says Jenna
“That’s not true, I also like animals
and hanging out and helping people. I am not just some man addict.” Says
Ophelia
“You still seemed to be a lot more
concerned with the men than any of those other things.” Says Isabelle
“Well love is the most important part,
I mean I can get love from animals and helping people and friends, but I’m
still missing an important source of love.” Says Ophelia
“Always searching for more, never
satisfied, that is the addict mentality.” Says Stacy
“At least the world agrees with me;
compare the number of stories about searching for love compared to searching
for milk, seeing how so far as I can tell that’s the only thing you pursue with
any passion.” Says Ophelia
“At least I am pretty good at finding
milk. Milk has never done me any wrong either.” Says Stacy
“It’s not even close to the same
thing.” Says Ophelia
“If we made a list, I bet milk can do
90% of the things a man’s love can do.” Says Stacy
“Is 90% really enough?” asks Ophelia
“I only aim for 80% on tests, 90 is
beyond my expectations.”
Isabelle laughs. “I aim a bit higher
than 90% though.” Says Jenna
“Too good for milk, I see how it is.”
Says Stacy
“I think it would be nice to get higher
than that 90%, but take what you can get.” Says Isabelle
“Hallelujah.” Says Stacy
“In 30 years you will all be in broken
homes with unhappy marriages and Stacy will be happily drinking milk.” Says
Grace
“I only expect that from Ophelia, she’s
the type to run off with some terrible man for no good reason, the other two
are a bit too smart for that.” Says Stacy
“I would only run off with a charming,
polite man.” Says Ophelia
“You know most serial killers are
charming and polite right?” says Stacy
“It’s a shame that even serial killers
can be elegant while you can’t even muster that.” Says Ophelia
“I can be elegant if I want to be.”
Says Stacy
“When is that exactly?” says Isabelle
“Well if it ever would get me out of
trouble I’m sure I could pull it off. I may have my airs, but that’s not one of
them.” Says Stacy
“You think being polite and charming is
a form of airs?” asks Jenna
“It’s a charade that people use for
manipulative purposes that society lets them take pride in for some reason.”
Says Stacy
“It’s just a form of decency.” Says
Jenna
“I’m with Stacy, if somebody is being
polite and courteous you can almost guarantee it’s because they want something,
or often in a woman’s case to avoid something.” Says Grace
“Maybe they just want you to respect
them and like them.” Says Jenna
“That’s still something. They could
just be likable and respectable without the charade and I’d be more so keen on
liking them.” Says Stacy
“It seems kind of like manners are
something most people are forced into doing regardless of their disinterest and
displeasure in doing so. Politeness is fine, but it’s almost more disrespectful
to pretend to respect somebody by having a meaningless exchange of faux
interest and concern than it is to skip the whole ordeal.” Says Grace
“You don’t think people actually care
when they ask how you are doing?” asks Jenna
“It kind of feels that way sometimes.
If my parents have friends over they’ll just ask me the same questions and stuff.
It’s common courtesy but if they really cared they would know by now that I am
enjoying school, I don’t know what I want to do when I grow up, I’m not all
that interested in doing what my father and mother do for a living, I don’t
have a boyfriend, my brother is enjoying college so far as I know. Sometimes
they ask me what I’ve been up to which is honestly preferable than rattling out
those same answers every time.” Says Isabelle
“There’s nothing worse than being
ignored by people. If people just look at me and then look the other way it
feels like I did something wrong or they don’t like me. The least they could do
is smile or something.” Says Ophelia
“The last thing I want is strangers
smiling creepily at me.” Says Grace
“It’s just a smile, what could possibly
be wrong with it.” Says Ophelia
“In plenty of movies the only people
who smile are the villains. They smile because they enjoy their ill intentions,
or at least the fantasies of them.” Says Grace
“I’ll be sure to be suspicious of the
old ladies who smile as me next time I see them.” jokes Stacy
“You’re not the type the predators
would want; they want the slow and juicy prey that’s easy to catch.” Jokes
Isabelle
“I’m a clearly catch and the guys still
don’t come swooning. What is wrong with the world?” Says Ophelia
“I don’t think swooning is one of the
tools in a predator’s arsenal.” Says Jenna
“You clearly don’t know men, they will
use every tool at their disposal to tear you open and satiate their primal
hunger.” Says Grace
“I’m hungry for love too, so I would
also have to sink my teeth in.” says Ophelia
“They’re not hungry for love; they’re
just hungry for your body.” Says Isabelle
“Guy’s don’t eat people.” Says Ophelia,
matter-of-factly
“They might eat a certain juicy part of
you, only the good one’s though.” Says Isabelle
“Please, the vast majority of them
won’t even do that.” Says Grace
“With Ophelia’s luck she will probably
end up with somebody that actually eats people.” jokes Stacy
“Let’s hope not. I don’t want to think
about things like that.” Says Jenna
“It’s only a jarring thought because
it’s so realistic.” Says Stacy
“Those tend to be the jarring ones.”
Says Grace
“You girls play video games? My brother
left his when he left for college, we might have some you like.” asks Isabelle
“I’ve never played any. I don’t even
have cable at my house.” Says Jenna
“Same, but I do have cable. Even if I
had some games I couldn’t ever wrestle the television from my father and his
war stories.” Says Stacy
“I’ve seen some at the mall and stuff,
they never really interested me. My parents don’t let me watch television or
even use the computer unless it’s for school.” Says Ophelia
“Jesus, I feel sorry for you girls.
It’s like you’re living in the 1940s or something.” Says Isabelle
“Games and TV and computers just rot
your brain anyways. It’s not like they’re missing out.” Says Grace
“It’s hard for you to find something
that isn’t despicable isn’t it.” Says Isabelle
“I see 4 girls, a lamp, a couch, a pool
table. Not too hard at all.” Says Grace
“The tool of choice for hustlers
everywhere isn’t despicable?” says Isabelle
“Well it’s not the table that’s
despicable, I can’t be upset with every knife in the kitchen because somebody
got stabbed to death.” Says Grace, the faces of the three go blank for a second
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Did
I say something?” she asks
“Must have been that slasher flick.”
Says Stacy looking around distantly nervous
“Yeah.” Says Jenna quietly, Ophelia
looking at the ground
“You girls like those things? My brother’s
got plenty of em.” Says Isabelle
“No. Please no.” says Ophelia
“Must have spooked her good.” Teases
Grace playfully
Stacy laughs nervously “Anyways,
sometimes the guy deserves it, so sometimes there’s nobody to blame.” She says
“Amen to that.” Says Grace
“Anyways, you said your dad likes war
stuff, Stacy? My brother was into that too, we’ve got a few of those games. You
like it at all?” Says Isabelle
“I don’t watch too much of it, but I’ve
read some of his novels about the sort of thing. They weren’t bad.” Says Stacy,
shaking her head a bit, quickly reconciling her conscience
“If you know a little bit about it, maybe
you can master the tactics right off the bat, a then after that it’s just hand
eye coordination and you’re a master.” Says Isabelle
“As long as it’s not another game of angles,
I’m not trying to do math.” Says Stacy
“There are grenades, but mostly it’s
just shooting in a straight line.” Says Isabelle booting up the console, the girls
seated on the large couch
“We can switch off every death. I’ll
show you the controls.” Says Isabelle, patriotic music playing in the
background
“The music is nice, makes you proud to
be an American.” Says Stacy
“You know they use this stuff to
brainwash boys into joining the army.” Says Grace
“I doubt the army would even take most
of the guys who sit around playing video games all day.” Says Isabelle
“The army does have pretty high standards;
I feel that the people who join do so out of a sense of duty rather than some
fantasy.” Says Jenna
“Anyone with common sense would see
your guy get shot for the first time and turn the game off forever.” Says Grace
“I’m pretty sure you could murder a
teenage boy and when he gets to heaven he would still think he’s immortal.”
Says Isabelle “Anyways, here’s how you run and aim and crouch. This is grenade.
You can switch to the sidearm if you run out of bullets for your main gun. That
explains it for the most part. The goal is to capture and defend the marked
areas, but plenty of people just try to get the most kills.”
“I don’t understand how watching
hundreds of young men die to defend a little cottage, a barn, and a windmill in
the middle of rural Europe would inspire anybody to join the army.” Says Grace
“I’m guessing it’s the feeling you get
when you win, but you wouldn’t know that one, would you, Grace?” teases
Isabelle
“It’s like they forgot all of the lives
they sacrificed for a windmill.” Says Grace
“It’s easy to forget when you’re given
another one after 10 seconds.” Says Isabelle
Isabelle shoots her gun at a man in a field,
the gunshots ring through the surround sound.
“Jesus Christ.” Gasps Jenna
“I’ll turn down the volume, didn’t mean
to startle you.” Says Isabelle, getting shot while she manipulates the sound “Well,
I got one at least. Who’s next?”
“I’ll give it a go.” Says Stacy,
uncoordinatedly moving around before getting shot, “You will be missed
Private.” She says
“I’ll let you get the hang of it.” Says
Isabelle “It’s a bit of a lame strategy, but you can hide in the house and wait
for somebody to come in. Your team gets points if you can keep defending it. It
would be a whole ‘nother thing if you were trying to flush out the enemy.”
“That sounds like a real strategy, not
a lame one.” Says Jenna
“This is what war really is like,
hiding in a building, scared for your life. Thankfully real soldiers aren’t
dumb enough to just run around aimlessly in a field.” Says Stacy
“They say that games attract the kids
with ADHD, so it’s hard to expect much more from them.” Says Grace
A man blindly runs into the cottage and
Stacy shoots at him, killing him.
“Poor kid, he didn’t know any better,
and now he’s dead because of it.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure he’ll be back in 10 seconds
trying to kill you again now that he knows where you are.” Says Isabelle
The same soldier comes around the
corner, instantly opening fire on Stacy who was still crouched in the same
corner.
“It’s like a necromancer is summoning
the souls of the dead and gaining knowledge from them.” Says Stacy
“I mean that was the same guy, he would
easily remember that’s why you want to move around a bit.” Says Isabelle “Who’s
got next?” asks Isabelle
“No thanks.” Says Grace
“This is really bad watching people die
like this. I can see why people wouldn’t want their kids playing this; it gets
a terrible message across.” Says Ophelia
“Don’t think of it like that, we’re the
good guys.” Says Isabelle
“You’re on the Nazi team.” Says Grace
dryly
“Well, it’s an important history lesson
anyways, it’s not senseless violence, there was a reason it happened.” Says
Isabelle
“It is a beautiful tribute to the
unknown men who sacrificed their lives in the name of freedom.” Says Stacy
“It is senseless violence. You’re still
on the Nazi team, remember.” Says Isabelle
“Well, it’s a tribute to the innocent
who were sent to die on account of the belligerence of an insane man.” Says
Stacy
“You would like the story mode; they
give you a little tear-jerking story about your character every time you get
killed. Every time it’s a different guy.” Says Isabelle
“My dad would like this kind of thing,
but he is likely way too drunk to be any good at it.” Says Stacy
“Drunk guys are hit or miss, they’re
either killing machines or worthless.” Says Isabelle
“How do you know if they’re drunk?”
asks Stacy
“You can plug in this little headset to
talk to your team, but I don’t really use it since hearing the shrill voices of
vulgar children insult you in place of heroic men really ruins the atmosphere.”
Says Isabelle
“Here I was thinking it would be
relaying information and communicating tactics.” Says Jenna
“You expect too much from little boys.
Though I’m sure there’s plenty of that at a high level of competitive play.”
Says Isabelle
“I’ve watched like 5 people run into
the field to get shot by the same sniper. That is depressing.” Says Stacy
“Well we’re going to lose if we don’t
get one of the other two points.” Says Isabelle
“The cottage is pretty cozy though.”
Says Stacy as a man shoots her in the back.
“Jenna you should give it a try.” Says
Stacy
“I’m just going to die.” Says Jenna
“That’s inevitable; the point is to do
as much damage as possible before you do.” Says Isabelle “The grenades are kind
of like pool, all about angles. I would try to sneak up from behind the barn
and see if you can land one through the window in the loft. As long as you
don’t shoot your gun they won’t hear you coming.” Says Isabelle
Jenna tries to throw the grenade, but
it sinks below the window of the loft and falls to the ground. She adjusts her
aim meticulously, the second one also a miss.
“You might need to get closer. I don’t
think your guy can make that toss.”
She steps forward a bit and tosses,
this time it lands in the loft, exploding and killing both of the snipers.
“They didn’t even try to run away?” asks Jenna
“They were too busy looking down their
scopes. Out of sight out of mind.” Says Isabelle as a man comes up and kills
Jenna with a shovel.
“Nice toss. But that’s what happens if
you just stand there, you get the shovel, the ultimate humiliation.” Says
Isabelle
“I fear for the children who think it’s
the greatest military honor to kill an opponent with a shovel.” Says Grace
“It’s supposed to be if you run out of
bullets.” Says Isabelle
“Yeah, just start digging your own
grave.” Says Grace
“In a war you would want to bury land
mines with it or something.” Says Stacy
“It’s sad that landmines still kill
innocent people all over the world, even in Europe.” Says Jenna
“This whole game is sad, just watching
people die.” Says Ophelia
“Well, at the end of the match there
will be some people still living, so it’s a good day for the boys who get to
live to see another day.” Says Isabelle
“I’m sure every battle was decided by
who gained more points from standing in one place the longest. Once one side
had enough, lost too many people, they just packed up and retreated.” Says
Grace sarcastically
“It’s kind of accurate, you would try
to defend your positions until you had to retreat or try to gain ground until
they decided their assault wasn’t worth it. I’m sure thousands of people died
trying to defend some random house. It’s the best protection you can get
sometimes.” Says Stacy
“At least Stacy can appreciate the
game.” Says Isabelle
“I think the historical lesson is
valuable, but this form makes it seem like these soldiers’ lives were trivial.”
Says Jenna
“The human brain doesn’t have the
ability to comprehend the deaths of millions of individuals; the scale of the
conflict trivializes each soldiers sacrifice simply because each one of their
efforts cannot be known in full or even in the slightest by the observer. The
only people who truly understand and appreciate the sacrifice of these men were
their brothers at arms.” Says Stacy
“I understand that they are dying.”
Says Ophelia
“But the struggle and the hardship and
the constant torture of an endless battle, unless you experience it yourself,
there’s no way to truly know. You should love these men Ophelia; they were the
last of the noble men, strong, loyal, and devoted. Women wonder where all the
good men have gone, and the simple answer is that they were taken by war.” Says
Stacy
“That explains so much. The army
wouldn’t take the undesirable men and now those are the only ones that are
left.” Says Grace
“Plenty of good men did come home, and
their women loved them for what they did.” Says Isabelle
“I could never send my man off to war like
that. It would be heartbreaking.” Says Ophelia
“You wouldn’t have a choice in the
matter, sadly. I wouldn’t worry, ever since the advent of nuclear bombs any
sizable developed military is completely unwilling to go to war with another
one, it is only the developed nations against the developing world at this
point. No country has any interest in mutually assured destruction.” Says Stacy
“It’s funny how world peace is slowly
being achieved through a mutual suicide pact.” Says Isabelle
“The risk of death is never enough to
dissuade a man, no matter how high. It is only the absolute guarantee that can possibly
dissuade them.” Says Stacy
“That still won’t dissuade plenty of
them.” Says Grace
“I’d like to think my man would risk
certain death to try and save me.” Says Ophelia
“It’s not a risk at that point, it’s
just a guarantee. He commits suicide for trying and you remain unsaved.” Says
Stacy
“You are forgetting that love conquers
all.” Says Ophelia
“You’re right, Ophelia. Hey, Jenna, you
should pick the love gun next time. You would be guaranteed to turn the tides.”
Jokes Stacy
“She’s kind of right though, without
the love of their friends, family, and homeland, most of the soldiers wouldn’t
have any reason to fight. Look at the difference in the sentiments of the
soldiers in Vietnam compared to WW2. If the boys hate their country for sending
them to die in a godforsaken jungle they’re more likely to end up smoking
reefer out of a shotgun than doing anything heroic.” Says Isabelle
“See, even soldiers are willing to turn
their back on their country if they’re not happy with it. I can only imagine
how your man would disregard you if he’s not happy with you. If he’s willing to
rebel against the world’s most powerful military then he won’t have a second
thought against abandoning his commitment to a woman.” Says Grace
“Just don’t go send him to die in a
jungle.” Says Isabelle
“We live in a concrete jungle and work
is a common cause of death. Here everybody’s got the same fate as the boys in
Vietnam.” Says Stacy
“It’s pretty easy not to die at work.”
Says Ophelia
“It’s hard not to work until you die
though.” Says Stacy
“That’s why everybody should try to
find a job that they enjoy.” Says Jenna
“That’s the hard part; I don’t even
know where to start with that.” Says Isabelle
“You’ve got plenty of time, I’m sure
you’ll find your calling eventually.” Says Jenna
“I think it’s more about finding
something you can tolerate. Trying to enjoy work would be like trying to enjoy
school.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you enjoy something about
school.” Says Jenna
“Gym. Lunch.” Says Stacy
“Animal club.” Says Ophelia
“You could be a dietician or some sort
of athletic trainer. There are also plenty of jobs with animals.” Says Jenna
“What do you want to do Jenna?” asks
Isabelle
“I like people, and it might be
overambitious but I would love to be a doctor and help the people who need it
most.” Says Jenna
“You would be underachieving if you
became anything besides a doctor.” Jokes Stacy
“I’m not that smart.” Says Jenna
“It’s all about the work ethic and you
practically bathe in schoolbooks.” Says Stacy
“My dad is a businessman and I don’t
know if I have the chops for that.” Says Isabelle
“It takes an iron will and lack of
sympathy to try to always wrestle for the better end of a deal regardless of
the situation.” Says Grace
“Most business agreements are mutually beneficial;
it’s kind of like finding a pleasant middle ground.” Says Jenna
“You still want your side of the middle
ground to be the more pleasant one though. He wouldn’t be paid like he is if he
would settle for the short end of the stick.” Says Isabelle
“The wise ones settle for the entire
stick and thoroughly beat anybody opposed to the idea with said stick.” Says
Stacy
“The wisdom of the despot.” Says Jenna
“In the end you’re the despot, the
despotized, or the disposed. Take your pick.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure trying to be the
despot is grounds for being disposed of.” Says Grace
“You’ve got to ease your way into it;
you gain the support of the people and slowly tighten your grip. Nothing wins
people over like a firm handshake.” Says Stacy
“Last I checked you don’t shake hands
by squeezing somebody’s neck.” Says Jenna
“That treatment is saved for the
disposed, the despotized get nothing but firm handshakes and hearty pats on the
back for their unwavering loyalty.” Says Stacy
“As you stand as the despotized, you
enjoy those handshakes and pats on the back?” asks Jenna
“My sister certainly does. It’s not my
cup of tea, but that’s why I aspire for greatness.” Says Stacy
“So you plan on taking control of the
military and staging a coup? It might be hard to throw your weight around
considering you’ve only got 100 pounds to work with if that.” Says Jenna
“I’d do it the old fashioned way, rally
the disgruntled into revolution and spend the rest of my days shepherding my
flock. It’s not hard to incite those who are indignant and have nothing to
lose. Even if they aren’t indignant and have things to lose, I can easily
convince them otherwise.” Says Stacy
“You are seldom capable of convincing
me of anything.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know, she’s a pretty good
talker.” Says Isabelle
“How could you rally the people if you
couldn’t even see over the podium?” teases Ophelia
“The Bolshevik Revolution went off
without a hitch, and I’m basically as tall as those guys.” Says Stacy
“It would be a lot harder with the
advent of television, image is everything.” Says Jenna
“That’s the truth, if you’re body isn’t
the media’s ideal they don’t give a damn who you are.” Says Grace
“I’ll just use it to my advantage; I’ll
be the image of the poor, lowly, and imposed upon. I’ll gain their trust
through sympathy. Who wouldn’t defend little old me?” says Stacy playfully
“She is cute. I’m sure if she cries
like a poor orphan people would be outraged at whatever she was upset about.”
Says Isabelle
“It might be hard to convince millions
of working class people to abandon their livelihoods and throw their bodies
into the autocratic death machine because some destitute childlike woman is
crying. They probably see that every day when they go home.” Says Ophelia
“You’re right. Sympathy is the emotion
of the weak, where indignation and outrage sow the seeds of reckless
belligerence.” Says Stacy
“We’ve got enough of that already and
it is worthless, people protest every day about anything and everything and it tends
to amount to nothing.” Says Grace
“Divided they are powerless, but
together they are strong. I just need to resurrect Ben Franklin’s Join or Die campaign
and unify the resistance.” Says Stacy
“You are going to appeal to all of
these groups with conflicting views somehow? Half the time the groups are just
protesting each other and not the government.” Says Jenna
“I’ll just promise utopia like every
other revolutionary in the past. Everybody gets everything they want. The
people foolish enough to think they can change anything by waving a sign would
be the easiest ones to convince.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure the good-for-nothings waving
signs around all day aren’t enough to accomplish anything. You would have to
win over the working man somehow.” Says Isabelle
“I’d hit them hard with the rhetoric.”
Says Stacy “Hear me, ye lowly: Shake off your shackles and break free from your
bondage. You can only be whipped by your master if you allow him to do so; you
either you live and die as a slave or you fight for your own freedom. The only
chains that bind you are those of your own fear and the insecurity ingrained
into your mind in order to pacify you into docility. You cannot fear death if
you are not alive, and who would argue that unending torture by the invisible
hand of the plutocracy is being alive? None would argue this, for you are dead
in their eyes, they presume you will be complacent and subservient until you
die and thus have become nothing but a statistic, a faceless drop of gasoline
that is burned until it is nothing but exhaust, a commodity that is
unwaveringly burned alive to fuel the engines of plutocracy. Be not fuel for
the fires of your own living hell, for you will do no more than reap your own
damnation every day of your life if you do. Lace your body with volatility and
destroy these wicked engines from within. For every man, no matter how rich or
powerful will die from thirst or poison if all of the water is poisoned. These
giants that drink our blood and grind our bones for their bread must learn that
they are not immortal. For that reason alone we must stand united, become the
poison ourselves. For if the wicked deem it right to consume our blood for
their own avaricious thirst for power and immortality, by God they shall be put
to death for their vampirism.” Shouts Stacy, feigning revolution
“I told you she was a good talker.”
Says Isabelle, impressed
“I am at a loss for words.” Says Jenna
“I didn’t know a lot of those words, so
you didn’t convince me.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure I would have convinced your
man, so you’re already in the bag.” Jokes Stacy
“That was actually pretty amazing. More
women should think like you, most of them just want to be equal within the
man’s world, not dismantle it for all of its atrocities.” Says Grace
“Society is a lot like a car though,
some amenities may change, but it still requires the same basic structure to
function.” Says Stacy
“That’s true, but automobiles are
constantly improving in quality, there’s no reason that society shouldn’t do
the same.” Says Jenna
“Politics is awful; it’s nothing but
stubborn people being obstinate. People aren’t elected because of their ability
to compromise; they are elected because of their refusal to do so.” Says Grace
“Stacy
would make a great politician then. She will just exhaust you until you give up
trying to argue.” Says Ophelia
“Exhaustion hunting is a technique as
old as man himself, there’s no reason to abandon it now.” Says Stacy
“Well, people use guns and stuff now; I
guarantee the people shooting deer couldn’t even run one of them down in their
dreams.” Says Isabelle
“That would require me to have some
sort of scientifically valid and functional argument in order to win; I’ve got
to work with what I’ve got.” Jokes Stacy
“You do make a good point there.” says
Jenna, giggling softly
“Have you won a Silver Star yet Jenna?”
asks Isabelle
“No, just plenty of Purple Hearts. This
game would make you think it was pretty common for a solder to be killed by a
shovel.” Says Jenna
“It takes a lot of practice, it’s
basically a lot of trophic levels and you just have to search for the guy who’s
lower on the food chain than you are and put all your energy into hunting that
guy.” Says Isabelle
“It appears I am at the bottom of that
food chain.” Says Jenna
“Don’t worry about it; you’ll become a
killing machine in no time.” Says Isabelle
“This game is so terrible. Don’t you
have games about love and romance or anything?” asks Ophelia
“I regret to inform you that if by some
odd chance a game actually includes romance, you usually have to kill about a
million aliens, bandits, or monsters to win the heart of the princess or
whatever.” Says Isabelle
“Why would anybody think that girls
like that sort of thing. Who finds murder romantic?” Says Ophelia
“It’s just what guys want to think that
girls love. I’m sure if more girls played games there might be some variety.”
Says Isabelle
“There’s some truth to that, war heroes
and the like have always been men that women swoon over.” Says Stacy
“The men conditioned to ruthlessly kill
people are my favorite.” Says Grace sarcastically
“If you have the choice between apples
and apples, it’s not like you have much of an opportunity to play favorites.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t think all men are like that.”
Says Ophelia
“It’s human nature; it’s the exact
instinct that allowed man to evolve from a scavenger to an apex predator. Even
if they don’t seem that way, it’s hiding on the inside of every one of them.”
Says Stacy
“If men weren’t like that then there
wouldn’t be constant brutality, sadism, and warfare throughout the entirety of
human history.” Says Grace
“It’s true. History is kind of the
ultimate horror story. They only teach you the respectable parts but that’s
because the victims of the deplorable parts didn’t quite live to tell their
side of the story. Ironically plenty of the perpetrators still wrote about
their sadistic feats as if they were proud of them.” Says Isabelle
“That’s because they were proud of
them. Nothing makes a man feel better than watching his enemies being ripped
apart by four horses running in opposite directions.” Says Grace
“People have come a long way since
those times.” Says Isabelle
“It wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t
for the advent of the gun. Being able to kill a man from a distance really
depersonalizes the experience. It was different, back when you had to be within
an arm’s length of a man and look him in the eyes as he slowly died from the
trauma. That sort of experience really honed the instinct to murder, and in
some cases gave birth to yet another enthusiast of leisurely sadism. The gun
took that experience from a man and he is no longer reminded of watching a man
die a slow and painful death before his eyes when he comes to the conclusion
that it is time to execute somebody. Before the gun it was a pretty noble way
to be hacked to death, so of course people saw it fitting to come up with far
more brutal ways to kill criminals and traitors and such.” Says Stacy
“Man uses machines to replace men in a
cost effective manner, it only makes sense that man also uses machines to
replace his human nature in the name of economics.” Says Isabelle
“The only thing that keeps men from
succumbing to their countless vices is their regal greed which lords over the
others, each of their other vices loyal only to Mammon.” Says Grace
“At least it proves that men can be
loyal.” Jokes Stacy
“So long as you’re happy with being one
of their many vices that is subservient to their avarice, sure men can be
loyal. If you ever get in the way of their money they will deem you the traitor
and destroy you, for none of their other demons have betrayed their king.” Says
Grace
“At least we can tempt them by being
one of their vices, if we had to convince them to like us out of their own
virtue we would be trying to find fresh water in an ocean.” Says Isabelle
“It’s not like men are the only ones
with vices.” Says Jenna
“As true as it is, it’s not like we’re
pots calling the kettle black, it’s more like the silver spoon calling the
kettle black. The vast majority of criminals are men.” Says Isabelle
“It’s just the natural order of things.
Men are physically dominant, and while the power is not absolute, the same
thing can be said, relative power corrupts proportionally.” Says Stacy
“Plenty of men are good; look at the
police, and firemen and stuff.” Says Ophelia
“While there are plenty of opinions
about law enforcement, the firefighters are a good example of good people. It’s
kind of like an LD50 where the exposure to criminality and immorality and thus
becoming accustomed and tolerant to that sort of thing is the poison, while a
certain amount of exposure may kill, or in this case criminalize, 50% of the
people, the other half have not succumb to the poison. While I cannot comment
on the moral purity of every firefighter, I can presume that most have not
become corrupted by criminality and thus retain some sense of decency and moral
fabric, and thus feel the desire to help people instead of victimize them.”
Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t argue that a man clad in a
loincloth made of a small shred of moral fabric bound to his waist by a thread
of decency qualifies as decent.” Says Grace
“It all depends on if he takes care of
his body.” Says Isabelle
“Sadly, it’s that easy to write off the
majority of men in our country.” Jokes Jenna, grimly
“A girl’s got to have standards.” Says
Isabelle
“I suppose I’m not a connoisseur of
trash. So I don’t have much authority on the issue.” Says Grace
“Salvage is not all that bad of a
profession. You just have to know what you’re doing and be happy with sifting
through garbage all day.” Says Stacy
“One man’s trash is another man’s
treasure.” Says Jenna
“Men aren’t trash; there have to be so
many great guys out there.” Says Ophelia
“That’s a matter of perspective. A
trashcan is a buffet full of delicious food to a raccoon. You must be a raccoon
because for some reason even the thought of garbage gets your mouth watering.”
Says Stacy
“At least raccoons are cute.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m just glad she’s not planning on
starving herself to death.” jokes Jenna
“There’s no difference between the
fates of somebody starving to death and somebody eating poison, one of them
will just die faster.” Says Grace
“It’s either the fast and agonizing
death of poison or the slow torture of starvation.” Says Stacy
“Speaking of starving to death, are you
girls hungry? I’m sure Daria could whip something up for us.” Says Isabelle
“Every animal must eat, even the
slaves, much to their master’s displeasure.” Says Stacy
“We’re not slaves Stacy; we live in one
of the freest places in the world.” Says Jenna
“Babylon doesn’t need the whips and
chains to remind you that they chose whether you live or die, you march in step
with their army of nameless soulless soldiers or die.” Says Stacy
“So anyone who doesn’t question the
authority is nameless and soulless?” asks Isabelle
“Well you don’t name every cog in a
machine and bless it so its soul might go to heaven, do you? The everyman is but
a replaceable part these days, the only reason he is named and baptized is to
indoctrinate and him with the comfortable delusion of his own significance and
induce civil docility through paranoia.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure plenty of other people are
just as upset with the fact that we live in a civil docile god-fearing society.”
Says Jenna, sarcastically
“Can you not see which god it is that
man truly fears, the one that fills his heart with icy dread and uncertainty
about his fate, the one that he prays to every night fearing for his own
safety, the one that he offers sacrifices of the fruits of his blood and toil
in wretched tithing without question? No man can serve two masters: for either
he will hate the one, and love the other; or he will sustain one, and despise
the other. You cannot serve God and Mammon.” Says Stacy
“Even Jesus couldn’t cause the Kingdom
of Mammon to falter in the slightest; I would just accept it as a fact of life
like gravity or the sunrise.” Says Isabelle
“I am well aware of its insurmountability,
and to that I am indifferent. I just strike down the notion that society is
civil and docile because they fear the wrath of the god of Abraham.” Says Stacy
“Children of Mammon, ye shall love the
children of Elohim as your own, for their hand of righteousness shall fend off the
backbiting brothers of your father. As you shall spare them and defend them in
self-serving avarice, they shall spare you and defend you in brotherly love. It
is only by this matrimony can Mammon reign eternal as the true God of this
living hell with his children as immortal kings beside him.” Says Grace
“I’d rather not see you two beat each
other with your respective holy texts.” Says Isabelle
“It’s less that I have faith and more
that quoting the scriptures gives me the high ground in an argument. People
will easily debate me, but few will argue with the word of god.” Says Stacy
“If I’m going to arm myself with
cynicism I might as well get my arms from a reputable source. It’s not like I am
teeming with faith either.” Says Grace
“It doesn’t take much faith to
acknowledge the grip Mammon has on this world; every concrete object is
quantified by its monetary value.” Says Jenna
“God also has plenty of grip too; we are one nation under God, after all.” Says
Ophelia
“Stay docile, my friend.” Says Stacy,
smiling warmly
“Getting back on topic, yes, Isabelle,
something to eat sounds quite nice.” Says Jenna
“I’ll go fetch Daria.”
The girls head upstairs and wait in the
kitchen. Isabelle comes back with Daria.
“What sounds good?” asks Daria
“I’d go for some Dirty Rodney.” Says
Isabelle
“That sounds good.” Says Grace
“Comfort food.” Says Stacy
“I’d be grateful for anything firmly
planted in reality at this point.” Says Jenna
“What is that?” asks Ophelia
“It’s good, just fry up some sprouts,
onions, beets and edamame, sprinkle with pepper, MSG, garlic powder and some
cumin seeds and voilà. Even I can cook it, just not as well as Daria.” Says
Isabelle
“Awesome.” Says Ophelia
“You forgot the flour to thicken it,
but it’s fairly nutritious, which is important because somebody won’t eat any meat.” Says Daria, looking at Isabelle
playfully
“You’re talking to the Animal Club here;
I doubt you’ll find anybody sympathetic to that idea.” Says Isabelle
“I eat what I can get, but my sister
doesn’t like to cook meat so it’s rare that I get any. She doesn’t want to cook
it because it’s gross and slimy, it’s not like she has a soul or a moral
compass or anything.” Says Stacy
“I also just tend to be grateful for
anything I can get.” Says Jenna
“I cry on the inside when I do it, but
sadly I will eat meat sometimes. My dad always tells me the animals are going
to die whether or not I eat them, and if I don’t eat them it’s like
disrespecting their hard work and sacrifice to become delicious food.” Says
Ophelia
“Man’s desire to fill his stomach with
flesh and blood is rapidly destroying the planet, as much as I can’t do
anything about that, it’s just a symbolic thing to refrain from it.” Says Grace
“I’d rather fill my stomach with
something nice; I’ve got plenty of pickled radishes to snack on while we wait.”
Says Isabelle as she gets up and fetches the snacks
“A woman of fine tastes, I see.” Says
Stacy
“What else would you expect from a
woman raised in such decadence?” Jokes Grace
Isabelle returns with the radishes and
the girls begin to eat.
“The tranquility is almost eerie.” Says
Jenna
“I’d keep running my mouth, but it’s
more important to put food in it.” Says Stacy
“You girls want anything to drink?”
asks Daria
“I’ll have a water.” Says Jenna
“You know you don’t have to pay for
drinks here, right? I could go for some milk.” jokes Isabelle
“Milk as well, please.” Says Stacy
“Water.” Says Grace
“I will also have water, thanks!” says
Ophelia
“Fix yourself a drink too, Daria. It’s
past 5 by now. No reason you shouldn’t be relaxing on the weekend.” Says
Isabelle as Daria brings them the drinks
“I see your father’s charm has rubbed
off on you.” Says Daria, the girls laugh
“It seems his work ethic hasn’t though.” Jokes
Grace
“My grades would beg to differ.” Says
Isabelle haughtily
“It’s been one week, I’m sure we’ll be
having a different conversation a few months from now.” Says Grace
“We’re in high school now; I’m going to
take it seriously. This time the grades actually count for something.” Says
Isabelle
“That’s the proper mentality. Hopefully
everybody can realize that.” Says Jenna
“Realizing it and accepting it are two
different things.” Jokes Stacy
“What is it that you drink anyways,
Daria?” Asks Isabelle
“Vodka and Apple Cider Vinegar, if I’m
going to be doing something unhealthy I always think I should be doing
something healthy to make up for it.” Says Daria
“Ah, the only panacea known to man:
Apple Cider Vinegar.” Says Isabelle
“My pop always says a pack a day keeps
the doctor away. It seems to hold some truth.” Says Stacy
“Aversion tends to keep the doctor away
more than anything else. Try to put a little more faith in medical science; you
know a stitch in time saves nine.” Says Jenna
“I try to look out for him.” says Stacy
Daria brings them the food. “Enjoy.”
She says
“Thanks, Daria. You should eat too,
it’s plenty nutritious, remember?” says Isabelle
“I don’t want to bother you.” Says
Daria
“It will be good. Hopefully the girls
will behave if you’re here. Otherwise you might overhear them and think my
friends are 40 year old schizophrenic spinsters.” Says Isabelle
“Don’t tease them like that.” Says
Daria
“I don’t think a doctor is teasing the
man when he tells him he has cancer.” Says Isabelle
“I’m trying to think of the type of
cancer that saves your life, but I can’t quite think of the name” says Grace
“You and I have seem to have different
definitions of the word living.” Says Isabelle
“I tend to refer to the brain function
and blood circulation kind.” Says Grace
“I lean towards a vulnerable fleshy mortality;
I wouldn’t consider zombies and vampires to be alive.” Says Stacy
“In the east it is simple, life is
suffering.” Says Jenna
“Well, there is some truth to that, but
there is also pleasure and joy in life.” Says Daria
“It’s like heroin, and every meatbag is
born a junkie, from mice to men it’s all the same. The ephemeral highs only
serve to induce a greater level of suffering when they fade; smiles are the
seeds of suffering that are watered by the fleeting mortality of quantifiable
existence.” Says Stacy
“I’ll be sure to mourn physics when its
fleeting mortality gets the last laugh.” Says Jenna
“The only reason physics is
quantifiable is because a cognizance exists with the capacity to do so, even if
only in the slightest sense that the mouse trusts the ground to catch his feet.
This awareness is the soil from which suffering can grow. You can’t quite bake without an oven, even if
you have all the ingredients mixed together.” Says Stacy
“That’s a rather grim mentality.” Says
Daria
“It’s just the taste of the trees, I’m
not going to pretend that they taste any better than they do to comfort myself
that I’m sucking on pine needles. I doubt that the solder burning his enemies
alive with a flamethrower thought to himself that he was spraying them with
liquid pleasure and their agonizingly breathless screams were moans of euphoric
pleasure from the flames consuming the oxygen from within his lungs.” Says
Stacy
“At least you’re getting plenty of
vitamin C from those pine needles. We wouldn’t want you to get sick now.” Says
Isabelle
“Delusion is the sickness that coddles
the masses.” Says Stacy
“You realize you’re part of those
masses, right?” asks Jenna
“I don’t expect the pine needles to
cure the plague; I’m satisfied with being a touch less ill than the everyman.”
Says Stacy
“I would say you’re a bit more
delusional than most people.” Says Ophelia
“Hence why I drink so much pine needle
tea. Even as the cold fingers of death caress the face of man, he still reaches
for his snake oil: hope springs eternal in the human breast.” Says Stacy
“I would say the only delusion there is
believing that such is a healthy mentality to have. Man doesn’t work because he
acknowledges the futility of living to death; he does so out of optimism,
regardless of how foolish it may be.” Says Jenna
“As does the gambler who buys lottery
tickets, what can I say, I’m just not a gambler. I’ll take my paycheck and
struggle without hope if it’s cost effective.” Says Stacy
“Masochistic avarice, you’re the
spitting image of the everyman.” Jokes Isabelle
“She’s a bit too wise, sadly. If the
everyman saw himself as the progeny of Sisyphus, he would be less tempted to
push the boulder up the mountain every day.” Says Daria
“At least Sisyphus was wise enough to
spawn brood with his damned compatriots. It is easier for a billion men to push
a boulder together than it is for one man to do it alone.” Says Jenna
“Sadly we have not discovered the alchemy
needed to convert futility into utility.” Says Grace
“Plenty of people like climbing
mountains, if you were smart you would just enjoy the scenery.” Says Ophelia
“The optimist was delighted when he
arrived in hell, for the scenery was tasteful and the torture pleasantly
reminded him of his previous life of toil and suffering. By his best judgement,
he had not been smitten and delivered unto damnation; he was granted
immortality and allowed to reside in the Eden he had grown to love throughout
his life.” Says Stacy
“That is an admirable mentality, if you
don’t believe things will get any better, why not enjoy them for what they are.
There’s no point in complaining that the sun doesn’t sing to you every morning
when you know it will never change, so why not be grateful that it keeps you
warm.” Says Daria
“Warmth is but the cancer of cold, and
light the cancer of darkness. We defile the tranquil purity of the primordial
silence and thus we suffer because of it. Hedonistic necromancy is a bitter
taste, yet the undead seem not to mind, even the sun is but the reanimated
corpse of its dead forefathers. It still shines and I continue to live, I smile
when I see the sunshine because it reminds me of the mantra of the universe.
All things tire, expire, and die, it is simply a matter of time, yet the void
is unsatisfied with our timely mortality, and thus its forces compel us not
simply to die, but to die harder. Entropy is the goddess of the void, and as
its angels in the darkness, we are her blood and kin, simple vectors of
entropy, we are all good children for she is a strict mother indeed, and thus
we do as good children do, and help our mother with her housework. ” says Stacy
“You must like to read books, is that
from some philosopher?” asks Daria
“Only if you count that philosophy tree
in my head that I beat with my thinking stick to get those delicious
persimmons. I suppose it could be from a philosopher though, they say great
minds think alike and I’m sure I’m not the only one to have the idea to fetch
some persimmons like that.” Says Stacy
“Is that really how philosophy works?”
asks Ophelia
“Did you really forget where all of
those figs you eat come from? Your mind is an orchard full of those sorts of
fruits.” asks Stacy
“Thanks I guess.” Says Ophelia
“You girls are kind of silly. When I
was your age my friends and I would talk about boys and fashion, you seem to
have other things on your mind.” Says Daria
“Fashion is a big part of my life, you
know. When I wake up I think to myself, what should I wear today, this uniform
that matches the hundreds of other girls at school, or the other one that also
matches the hundreds of girls at school. When I show up, I always ask what time
is the comet coming and where can I get some of the artificially flavored
sweetened water.” Says Stacy
“You don’t go to school every day you
know.” Says Jenna
“I wear clothes out of comfort, not out
of some venial sense of vanity.” Says Stacy
“At least it’s venial; I would hate to
see Isabelle die from her inability to decide what to wear.” Says Grace
“I dress to impress, its hard work
picking out the perfect outfit.” Says Isabelle
“I also like clothes, it’s important,
because first impressions are everything. No man would want somebody who can’t
dress themselves properly.” Says Ophelia
“It’s not like I put my clothes on
backwards.” Says Stacy
“You don’t exactly dress like a lady.”
Says Ophelia
“When the men stop wearing shorts and a
t-shirt, I’ll stop wearing shorts and a t-shirt.” Says Stacy
“You do look cute in a dress though.”
Says Jenna
“I couldn’t care less about looking
cute.” Says Stacy
“It’s amazing that you care about what
you talk about, but not about how you look. You don’t care about what boys
might think of you?” says Daria
“Hopefully they think that I am
indifferent to being visually appealing. That’s about all I care about; I’m not
putting on a show for some random people I don’t care about out of a sense of
personal insecurity.” Says Stacy
“Sadly, some of us enjoy the approval
of others, thus we must entertain some fancies if we wish to have our thirst
satiated.” Says Isabelle
“I’m more concerned about my parent’s
approval of my grades than that of random boys, but I’ll admit that both would
be nice.” Says Jenna
“Both of them have the capacity to
cause plenty of trouble in your life; it’s just about how hungry you are for
problems.” Says Grace
“It may be taxing, but if you can keep
two lions happy, you have two happy lions, plenty of people would say that having
two lions is better than having one lion.” Says Isabelle
“That is life, pleasing lions that will
eat you if you don’t. It helps if you love lions; otherwise you’re only doing
so out of fear.” Says Daria
“I’m sure you could keep an entire
pride of lions happy by cooking them this Dirty Rodney, it’s delicious.” Says
Stacy
“Sadly, food is not the only thing most
lions want.” Says Daria
“Love is very important, it is true,
but by feeding somebody your cooking you are in a way feeding them your love.”
Says Ophelia
“Men want a 5 course meal of your love
though.” Says Isabelle
“Hopefully I’m a good enough cook; I’ve
never done 5 courses.” Says Ophelia
“It may take some practice, but you
seem to have plenty of natural talent in that area.” Says Daria
“I suppose it is possible to be born
with talent after all.” Jokes Stacy
“I’m sure you could develop some talent
if you tried, Stacy.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t think trying to develop that
kind of talent will change anything. Some girls simply develop a lot more
talent than others in their teenage years.” Says Stacy
“Is simply existing as an object really
a talent?” asks Grace
“It takes a certain amount of skill and
dedication to the art to be honest.” Says Jenna
“I know of a few things she can do with
all of that talent to make a man happy.” Says Isabelle
“That’s good. You should teach me.”
Says Ophelia
“I’ll leave that to the guys, I don’t
quite have the tools.” Says Isabelle
“You are a filthy animal, Isabelle.”
Says Grace
“I’m sorry I don’t have cloven hooves
and chew my cud.” Jokes Isabelle
“That wouldn’t stop plenty of men from eating
you right up.” Says Daria
“The men will eat what they want and
leave the rest to rot.” Says Grace
“Maybe I want them to eat what they
want to eat.” Says Isabelle
“That’s not what they want to eat.”
Says Grace
“Are you sure about that?” Jokes Isabelle
“If it’s not your livelihood, they’ll
turn their nose up at it. The only way they’ll please you is if it’s the means
to an end that’s what they want.” Says Grace
“You’ve just got to tease them. If men
want to chase this dragon, they can go right ahead.” Says Isabelle
“Just don’t let them slay the dragon.”
Says Daria
“The dragon tends to be the one that
slays the people.” Says Isabelle
“It would take a hero, a god among men
perhaps, but I wouldn’t fancy oneself immortal.” Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t mind being slain by a god
among men. It would mean somebody worthy of the honor has finally found me.”
Jokes Isabelle
“I wouldn’t let your guard down for
anyone else.” Says Daria
“The food was great. You’ve got the
magic touch Daria.” Says Stacy
“You sure were hungry.” Says Daria
“I like to say that I’m a growing girl,
but I fear I burn all of the calories running my mouth and it’s starting to
stunt my growth.” Says Stacy
“We’ve got some fruit around here for
dessert.” Says Isabelle
“Stacy might have had too many of those
persimmons she was talking about to want any more fruit.” Says Ophelia
“If a man’s dreams provided substantive
nutrition he would have no need to eat in the first place.” Says Stacy
“Even if thoughts were food I would
fear for your health, you seem to lack a few essential nutrients in that
department.” Says Jenna
“There are no essential nutrients for
thought; thought is but an accursed luxury. The only necessity is instinct.”
Says Stacy
“Perhaps in a wild animal, but the
environs of society is far from natural, now it is only through a penchant for
unnatural behavior that a man can survive. Instinct alone would deliver him
unto criminality and thus be damned to a cage like every other animal without
civil competency. Sadly many men let their instincts get the better of them.”
Says Grace
“Sadly nature has cast the mind of man
in the fires of lawlessness. Rape ensures progeny, murder ensures safety, and
robbery fills the belly. It is to be expected that a beast will fall back to
its instincts in times of strife.” Says Jenna
“That’s not to say these cannot be
conditioned against. A dog will instinctively shit on the floor lest you train
it to do otherwise.” Says Isabelle
“Just because you train it to do so
doesn’t mean it won’t happen once in a while.” Says Grace
“Well a mistake can be forgiven; there
was surely an acceptable reason.” Says Isabelle
“Maybe a dog’s mistakes, but when a
man’s mistakes are rape, murder, and robbery, it’s hard to forgive and accept
those.” Says Grace
“That is why we don’t forgive and
accept them. People die in prison when they do things like that.” Says Daria
“I’m just taking a cautionary stance. When
you keep a dog you accept the fact that it may shit on the floor once in a
while. Why run the risk of keeping a man in the house when his mistakes could
cost you your life?” Says Grace
“Because it is better to have loved and
died for it than to have never loved at all, life would have no meaning without
it.” Says Ophelia
“Love is what keeps the world turning;
people have to come from somewhere you know.” Says Daria
“Procreating for one’s own survival and
protection, maybe it’s not my cup of tea, but I wouldn’t call that love.” Says
Grace
“It’s the lesser of two evils. There is
a give and take to everything in this world; everything has its pros and cons,
risks and rewards.” Says Daria
“Perhaps in the past, but nowadays a
woman can fend for herself. It’s become a luxury rather than a necessity at
this point.” Says Stacy
“People love their liquor and
cigarettes; they don’t care that it will kill them in the end.” Says Isabelle
“Is it wiser to enjoy one’s life ‘til
you are granted a hedonist’s death or live as a stoic with your desires satiated
instead with your pragmatism?” Says Jenna
“It is a personal decision whether one
finds more joy in pleasure or living selflessly. Society tends to demand
stoicism from its members out of its own selfish hedonism.” Says Daria
“You’ve
got to earn your hedonistic life through a stoic conquest, if you forsake this
journey and skip to dessert you die an urchin’s death on the streets.” Says
Stacy
“Speaking of dessert, I’ll fetch the fruit;
hopefully it won’t cause you to descent into urchinism.” Says Daria
“If fruit was enough to satisfy the
lowly’s lust for escapism the government would have waged a war on fruit a long
time ago.” Says Stacy
“You really think that effort is simply
to demonize the poor?” asks Jenna
“They would spit on the homeless man
eating an orange in a lonely alley all the same. They cannot condition you to
die in vain chasing the American dream if an orange would induce the same
feeling of euphoric satisfaction and fulfillment. Bliss is fleeting, thus the
capitalist chases another pile of money while the disenfranchised simply chase
another orange.” Says Stacy
“Fruit is pretty good, I’m sure plenty
of people are willing to work hard for such a sweet treat.” Says Ophelia
“Maybe the simple men, but it is man’s
innate fear that the world will crumble around him that drives him to hoard all
he can acquire in the baseless hope that it will save him come the day of
reckoning.” Says Isabelle
Daria returns with the fruit. “Perhaps
it will; the story of Noah would argue that preparation may be what saves the
planet in the end.” Says Daria
“I’ll shed a tear at the end, when the
man with cancer dies in his bomb shelter, having prepared for the apocalypse
but done nothing to treat his condition.” Says Stacy
“It is tragic, but not all cancer can
be cured. If you’ve spent your life breathing diesel fumes and eating plastic,
there isn’t much hope to begin with. If you can’t do anything, you will
naturally console yourself by pretending that you are doing something.” Says
Isabelle
“I don’t know who eats plastic, but
these grapes are great.” Says Ophelia
“I would be eating lemons, but lemon
quarters are not part of the usual fruit tray. The apples are nice, pleasantly
tart.” Says Stacy
“I’ve always been fond of cherries;
even the artificial flavor is great.” Says Isabelle
“Strawberries and kiwis, whoever
thought to put them together was a genius.” Says Jenna
“Pineapples and melons for me.” Says
Grace
“I figured you would be asking for the
bitter melons.” Says Isabelle
“It’s good for you; it can help with
diabetes and other digestive things supposedly.” Says Grace
“Pretty sure it also kills babies.” Says
Isabelle
“Amazing that in the garden of Eden God
gave women a fruit they could use to induce abortion.” Says Daria
“God is apparently pro-choice and
supports the right to die, giving people countless deadly plants to choose
from.” Says Stacy
“Interpreting God’s will from your
surroundings rather than the scriptures is honestly a reasonable thing to do. Why
opt for the millennia old game of telephone as opposed to inferring the
sentiments by experiencing the natural world?” Says Isabelle
“That would be like trusting a legally
blind dyslexic man to read out and execute a complicated scientific procedure
and get the correct results every time. It’s just not realistic. This way
people can be told what to think instead of just expected to infer what to
think from the world around them.” Says Stacy
“If you just listen to the wilds, you
would think that God rewards vice and punishes virtue from your own limited
perspective and the lawlessness that surrounds you. The ancients knew you must scare
man away from his instincts in order to cultivate something more than a
savage.” Says Grace
“It’s true; plenty of people lack the
introspective capacity to deduce civility from their surroundings. It truly was
Prometheus who took that fire and spread it amongst his kin.” Says Jenna
“Even animals are pretty civil towards
each other, at least from what I can tell.” Says Ophelia
“The animals are a bit more lawless,
but cooperation has always been a principle of success on this planet. You
girls should let go of this lofty thinking and enjoy your innocence while you
still have it.” Says Daria
“I don’t know if I’m still all that
innocent, I’m a teenager after all.” Jokes Isabelle
“I’ve had mine sullied by the cold
heartless nature of reality.” Says Grace
“There’s a difference between
television and reality, you know?” Jokes Isabelle
“I’d like to think I’m innocent, seeing
as I’m not in prison right now.” Says Stacy
“That is a pretty low standard of
innocence.” Says Jenna
“It makes it easier to hurdle that
obstacle.” Says Isabelle
“Well, I’m certainly still innocent.”
Says Ophelia
“We know.” Says Stacy
“You girls run along and play, I’ll
clean up.” Says Daria
“Thanks, love you.” Says Isabelle, the
girls thank Daria for the meal and follow Isabelle to the basement
“So do you girls want to spend the
night?” asks Isabelle
“We should, it would work out great for
tomorrow. I’m sure our parents will be fine with it, seeing how we sleep over
at Stacy’s all the time.” Says Ophelia
“Let’s just check and be sure.” Says Jenna
The girls pull out their flip phones;
Jenna and Ophelia walk to separate corners of the room to have pleasant
conversations with their family. Stacy sends a text message.
“You’re not going to call?” asks
Isabelle
“I just texted my sister and told her I’m
sleeping over here.” Says Stacy
“Will she tell your parents or
something?” asks Isabelle
“Dale wouldn’t pick up the phone even
if I called, he’s a good man but he’s not big on walking around. My sister is
the only one who would actually worry about me, my dad has plenty of faith in
me.” Says Stacy
“What about your mom?” asks Isabelle
“She died a long time ago when I was
little.” Says Stacy
“I’m sorry I brought that up.” Says
Isabelle
“It’s ok, it’s a normal question. I’ve
had plenty of time to process it, at least I’ve got Dale. He’s a great dad.”
Says Stacy
“It’s good you have somebody.” Says
Isabelle
“Thank God, too. I wouldn’t want to
live with my gramps, he’s a hardass bastard. No fun allowed, and my sister is
clearly his favorite because she’s the good girl of the two of us. It would be
a living hell.” Says Stacy
“It’s cool that your dad trusts you so
much. My parents know I practically live here, so they don’t tend to ask
questions if it’s the weekend.” Says Grace
“She’s like my sister basically.” Says
Isabelle
“You seem to be like all the good parts
of sisterhood without much if any of the bad. Me and my sister kind of annoy
each other a lot.” Says Stacy
“That happens with us too, sometimes,
not too much though.” Says Grace
“Yeah, we get a break from each other
on the weeknights, I’m sure it’s a bit more crazy living with somebody all the
time.” Says Isabelle
“I’m kind of glad I gave her some alone
time. According to her, I’m the annoying one.” Says Stacy
“I can see that.” Teases Isabelle
“You’re not annoying, you’re just out
there. She is probably too down to earth to appreciate it.” Says Grace
“Maybe, sometimes I can get through her
stoicism and get her to smile. It’s hard though. At least she gives me the time
of day. It’s good to have somebody to pick my brain with.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got a lot of brain to pick,
too.” Says Isabelle
“My sister would think that’s an insult
to people with brains, but thanks.” Says Stacy
The two girls return.
“My parents say I can spend the night.”
Says Ophelia
“Me too.” Says Jenna
“What do you want to do?” asks Grace
“I was thinking we could watch a movie,
we’ve all got the skillset for that, right?” asks Isabelle, leading the girls
back downstairs
“I suppose it depends on the type of
movie.” Says Jenna
“What are you in the mood for?” asks
Isabelle
“Something romantic.” Says Ophelia
“Of course. I’d watch anything.” Says
Stacy
“Something I haven’t seen, preferably.”
Says Grace
“Lets see.” Says Isabelle “You’re lucky
I have such a huge collection of movies. I’ve not seen this one, have you?”
says Isabelle
“The Red and the Black? Never heard of
it.” Says Grace
“The box says ‘Against all odds, polar
opposites attract in this hilarious romantic comedy, the Romeo and Juliet of
our time.’ I heard my dad say he liked it for some reason.” Says Isabelle
“I like the explosion on the cover.”
Says Stacy
“Who doesn’t love some explosions with
their romance?” Says Isabelle
“It sounds nice, who doesn’t love a
story about unlikely romance.” Says Ophelia
“Hopefully it’s not too sappy.” Says
Grace
“I can’t object to wholesome romantic
comedy.” Says Jenna
“Cool. Hit the lights Grace.” Says
Isabelle as she places the disc in the player. The lights dim and the girls are
seated.
The protagonist sits in a dimly lit and
beat up bar, a young man in a business suit, a bit disheveled, drinking
solemnly. A young punker woman sits next to him.
“You lost your job and have come to the
slums to drown your sorrows, I see.” Says the woman
The man laughs “It’s hard to lose your
job when you own the company.” He says
“It’s easy if the company goes under.”
Says the woman
“The government will collapse before my
company does.” He says
“I like the sound of that, but what’s a
rich boy like you doing in a place like this.” Says the woman
“I’ve known the barkeep since we were
kids. I come here hoping for some peace and quiet, but I see you’re looking for
some company, so I’ll entertain you.” He says
“You’re popular, eh? So much attention
that you’ve got to run from it? What’s your name anyways?” she says
“James, you?” he says
“Matilda, it’s my pleasure. James
doesn’t give me much to work with; I’m trying to figure you out.” She says
“He’s the only James that anybody gives
a damn about in the city. It’s not that hard to figure out.” Says the barkeep
“Damnit Ricky, don’t blow my cover.”
Says James
“We all know, and nobody gives a fuck,
you wouldn’t give the time of day or two cents to any of the bums around here
unless you wiped your ass with it first. To us you’re just another drunk
asshole.” Says Ricky
“We’re like family and you can’t even
make me seem like a halfway decent human being in front of a lady?” jokes James
“That’s not my job. I serve the drinks
and it’s up to you to be prince charming. I’m pretty sure Matilda here would
spit on you if she thought you were halfway decent, so I’m doing you a favor.”
Says Ricky
“Fuck you Ricky.” Says Matilda
“Not a fan of decency? I’m with you;
decency just means you’re willing to get fucked in the ass instead of do the
fucking yourself.” Says James
“Let’s see, you’re the only important
James and you ass fuck people for a living. There’s no fucking way you could be
James Milford, though.”
“Just kill me now.” Says James
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.
The James Milford. The richest motherfucker in Crown City and he’s drinking at
Dirty Dick’s pub in the slums.” Says Matilda
“Don’t get me wrong, it’s my father’s
money, I only do what I do to save face. I hate money, that shit is the devil’s
blood.” Says James
“So you think capitalism is the devil?”
asks Matilda
“I’m the fucking devil, it’s my blood,
god damn it. I’m nothing but fucking money and that’s it. It’s a hollow life
and I’m a fucking puppet controlled by my father’s ghost.” Says James
“Damn it James, shit drunk already.
Here I was hoping you’d actually be charming for once.” Jokes Ricky
“If you don’t like money, what is it
you want to do?” says Matilda
“I want to set the world on fire and
watch it burn.” Says James
“James is living proof that men only
want what they can’t have.” Says Ricky
“God damn it. That turns me on. The
only thing James fucking Milford wants is to make me happy.” Says Matilda
“Looks like you found a bitch just as
crazy as you are.” Jokes Ricky
“Cheers to that.” Says James, drinking
“You’re an asshole Ricky. Why don’t
they call you Dick if it’s Dirty Dick’s pub anyways.” Ask Matilda
“I got tired of being called dickhead
by every drunken piece of shit that walks in here.” Says Ricky
“The truth hurts, doesn’t it? I’ll
never be happy and you’re a dickhead.” Says James
“I want to make both of us happy,
James.” Says Matilda
“Why make me happy?” asks James
“I’m an anarchist; we want the same
things, James.” Says Matilda
James scoffs “Sadly when I wake up
tomorrow I’ll be back to the soulless piece of shit that eats breathes and
shits money. The only soul I’ve got is the spirits I drink.” Says James
“Let me give you some of mine. Let’s go
out and have some fun, my kind of fun.” Says Matilda
“I’m all for some shits and giggles.
What petty crime are you plotting?” jokes James
“All I got right now is some spray-paint,
but it might make you feel better to give the world a piece of your mind.” Says
Matilda
“I’ve got to vent somehow. Let’s do it.
Fuck my life!” says James, drunken and a bit excited.
“Let’s go.” Says Matilda
James throws some money at Ricky “You
tip me three fucking dollars? Even after I score you this fine lookin’ bird?”
asks Ricky
“Fuck you, Ricky. If you didn’t
struggle you wouldn’t be here every day to pour liquor down my throat.” Says
James
“You’ve got a point. Don’t do anything
too stupid.” Says Ricky, as the couple leaves the bar
The two wander around the slums graffitiing
their disgruntlement in alley ways to the entertainment of the homeless.
“This was fun, we should do it again.”
Says James
“You want to come back to my place?”
asks Matilda
“I’m not going to fall asleep inside of
you and vomit on your mattress. I’m going to do you right. You’re a good girl.”
Says James, still quite drunk
The girl laughs. “I’m glad somebody
thinks so. I’ll be looking for you at the bar.” She says
“I’ll be there.” Says James as he walks
away
James goes to work, duplicitous as
always, and returns to the bar around 3 o’clock.
“You get off work early?” asks Ricky
“I decided drinking is more important.”
Says James
“You sure that girl didn’t tickle you
the right way last night?” asks Ricky
“Tickled me pink, but not like your
hinting at.” Says James
“You had the cat in the bag, but didn’t
pull the trigger?” asks Ricky
“I just like to listen to her purr.”
Says James
“You’re crazy man. Hopeless.” Says
Ricky
“I’ve just got a bit of class is all.”
Says James
“I can see that, drinking at a place like this.” Says Ricky,
sarcastically
“Not too much, just enough to respect
myself.” Says James
“I suppose minimalism is a form of
art.” Says Ricky
“It’s economic. Cheap, dirty, gritty,
but it gets the job done. It’s my style.” Says James
“My style too.” Says Ricky, the girl arrives
after James is a few drinks in.
“We meet again.” Says James
“It looked like you were having fun
last night; I brought you a pamphlet that might get you going.” Says Matilda
James looks at the pamphlet. “This is
fucking lame. No wonder nobody wants to be an anarchist. You make it sound like
you’re fucking saints.” Says James
“We’re not bad people.” Says Matilda
“I’m only satisfied with that answer
because that’s what a psychopath would tell me.” Says James
“If it’s so lame, why don’t you make
your own?” Says Matilda
“I can’t put my name on this shit. I’ve
got an idea though. You make these things?” asks James
“How did you guess?” asks Matilda
“I figured you’re one of maybe two
anarchists in the city. I had a 50/50 chance.” Says James
“You’re funny. My shop is right around
the corner; let’s hear this idea of yours.” Says Matilda
“You might hate me for this, but you
also might love me. This shit isn’t for the faint of heart, but look at this.”
Says James as he shows her his phone
“That is seriously fucked up.” Says
Matilda
“That is what I would put on that
paper. Litter them all over the city.” Says James
“I don’t even want to know.” Says Ricky
“I didn’t either, but some sick fucks
out there think I like this sort of thing for some reason. How many can you
make?” Says James
“A few hundred, maybe a thousand; it’s
just printing paper.” Says Matilda
“Good. Let’s go. I’ve got to do
something first.” James pulls out his phone
“What are you doing?” asks Matilda
“Shorting the ever living fuck out of
MacroCorp.” Says James
“What does that mean?” asks Matilda
“Nothing. Let’s go.” Says James as the
two hurry out of the bar
“Never thought I’d see him leave before
happy hour.” Says Ricky to himself
The two arrive at the shoddy apartment
around the corner and begin to print the flyers.
“I am seriously rattled by this. I
don’t know anything about these people, but that shit is fucked up.” Says
Matilda
“Those bastards are the chief
executives of MacroCorp, the big evil one that I’m sure you hate. Normally they
just send me pictures of dead hookers or some shit but this time they went way
too far.” Says James
“The printers out of ink.” Says Matilda
“We’ve got what, like 300 right?” asks
James
“Probably.” Says Matilda
“That’s plenty, we’re driving downtown.
Give me one of your ski-masks.” Says James
The two get in the car with the papers.
“My heart is racing; I can see why you
love this kind of shit.” Says James
“You do it way bigger than I could have
imagined.” Says Matilda
“I’m a big shot, what can I say. At
least I put my money where my mouth is.” Says James, he rolls down the window
and throws the papers across the crowded streets. A paper flies around and
lands in front of the camera, showing a group of men in suits standing in front
of an incinerator with a naked little girl in front of them with her hands
bound. The memo says “Tonight we send this virgin girl Sally Richardson through
the fires to Moloch. Here’s to another blessed year at MacroCorp.” The anarchy
symbol is superimposed in the top right corner.
“I’m glad we only had 300, I’m pretty
sure we’ll be marked for death if we don’t get out of here soon.” Says James
“Well then we should get the fuck out
of here, shouldn’t we?” asks Matilda nervously
“Don’t worry, it will take some time
before somebody loyal to MacroCorp gets their hands on one of them, and by then
it will be too late.” Says James
“I kind of feel like a hypocrite
helping you, you’re like the opposite of anarchy.” Says Matilda
“An enemy of my enemy is my friend. It
may be weird, but we’ve got the same interest at heart.” Says James
“Watching the world burn.” Says Matilda
softly
“You can watch, I’m going to set the
motherfucker on fire.” Says James
“God damn you’re crazy.” Says Matilda
“Here I was thinking I was a saint like
you.” Jokes James
They drive for a while and return to
the slums.
“You want me to drop you off at the
bar?” asks Matilda
“You don’t want to drink?” asks James
“I’m still feeling sick from what you
showed me, maybe tomorrow.” Says Matilda
“Tomorrow it is.” Says John as they
arrive at the bar, James exits the car and enters the bar
“What did you just do?” asks Ricky
“You don’t want to know.” Says James
“You’re right.” Says Ricky
James takes a drink and the camera
blacks out followed by a silent montage of James working diligently before
ending up at the bar.
“The usual crowd returns and expects
the usual.” Says Ricky as he pours his friend a drink
“Damn, it’s like I breath liquor and
I’m suffocating without it.” Says James
“That’s the usual sentiment.” Says
Ricky
“I’ve got a surprise for you James.”
Says Matilda approaches from behind, she opens her jacket and shows him a Molotov
cocktail
“Damn, what’s that for?” asks James
“It’s your decision. You said you
wanted to watch the world burn.” She says playfully
“You’re a sick girl. Don’t let me
decide these things, I’m practically sober.” Says James
“You sure know how to turn a girl on.”
Says Matilda
“I told you I’m the devil. You sure you
want to dance?” asks Ricky
“I’m up for anything.” Says Matilda
James downs his second drink “There’s
this guy, I’ve told you about him Ricky. This CEO bastard, he is fucking me
hard. He takes his profits and uses it to lobby the feds for personal gains,
leaving the company out to dry. I’ve got big money in his company and he’s not
doing me right. I’d love to see him burn.” Says James
“You’ve got to convince your lady
friend here, not me.” Says James
“Shit.” Says James, downing another
drink, “You hate money types, right? This guy is the worst of the worst,
fucking plutocrat.” Says James
“I can get behind that, I don’t see how
we’re going to sneak our way into some gated community though.” Says Matilda
“Fuck that, he’ll come to me. I’ll just
tell him I’ve got some insider trading bullshit he wants and he’ll meet me
wherever I tell him.” says James
“Then what?” asks Matilda
“Then we smash that fucking thing on his
head and watch him burn.” Says James
“You are sick, but I like you. It’s not
every day I’m given the chance to do some good in the world.” Says Matilda
“I can’t tell who’s more sick, James
for being himself or you for thinking you’re some crusader of morality.” Says
Ricky
“Fuck you. Let’s go. You want to come,
Ricky?” asks James
“I’m not fucking insane, so no, I don’t
want to go.” Says Ricky
“Your loss.” Says James as he throws
some money on the counter.
James stops by a shady store and buys a
burner phone, he texts the CEO and they wait for him in a vacant parking lot in
the slums.
“I told him I want to see him in his
new convertible, this should be easy. I’m going to talk to him, you sneak up
behind him and light him up.” Says James
“Why would he come out here again?”
asks Matilda
“Desperation.” Says James
They wait and the man rolls up to the
parking lot, James leaning against a wall.
“Tod, my man, lets see this baby with
the top down.” Says James
“Damn it James, why are you looking out
for me like this.” Says Tod as he rolls the top down.
“Sexy. I mean, you are doing me right
with your company, so I feel like I can return the favor.” Says James
“I don’t know if it’s doing that well,
but I do appreciate you looking out for me.” Says Todd
Matilda approaches from the back.
“You see I called you out here to tell
you something important…” says James as Matilda approaches from behind
“Yeah, get on with it. What’s that
smell?” Says James
“The only thing I had to tell you was… Die,
motherfucker!” shouts James as Matilda smashes the cocktail on Tod’s skull, his
body being engulfed in flames followed by the car
“Burn in hell you piece of shit!” says
James, laughing
“We should go.” Says Matilda, hurriedly
“I thought you wanted to watch.” Says
James, as Todd writhes in agony. He grabs her hand
“It’s beautiful. It’s like a sunset.”
Says James
“God damn, you are a scary motherfucker
but I like it.” Says Matilda
The two watch the show until the man
stops flailing and screaming, too fat to pull himself out of the burning car.
“Maybe no Molotovs next time. I’m not
trying to go to prison.” Says Matilda
“I’d like to think you can outrun a two
hour police response time.” Jokes James
“Sadly, I live in this neighborhood.”
Says Matilda
“People know you’ve got nothing they’d
want to steal anyways.” Says James
“That’s true, even criminals don’t want
to work here.” Says Matilda
“But the saints are always willing to
work amongst the poor.” Says James
“Of course, Saint James.” Jokes Matilda
as they walk away.
Another fade out and work montage.
James again in the bar, the girl shows up with a friend.
“James this is Troy, another man of the
faith.” Says Matilda
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’re
not coming to take my girl from me, are you?” asks James, a bit drunk
“God no. I just wanted to show you
there were more than two anarchists in the city.” Says Matilda
“I only count two.” Says James
“I’m counting three.” Jokes Matilda
“We just wanted to see if you’d join us
for a get together down at our warehouse. We’ve got a little party planned and
you seem to be the kind of guy who’d love to come.” Says Troy
“I might have to teach you kids how to
fucking party. This girl came in beating the bible and I taught her the art of
the crusade.” Says James
“That’s what we’re looking for, a crusader.”
Says Troy
“I’m your man. Let’s go.” Says James as
he downs his drink.
“Get yourself something nice Ricky.”
Says James as he throws a twenty on the table
“You actually tip 25% today. That’s
remarkable.” Says Ricky
“They just caught me before I could drink
up to that twenty.” Says James
“It’s my lucky day. Don’t do anything
stupid.” Says Ricky
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Says James as he walks out with the three
They arrive at a warehouse, there is a
lorry parked inside.
“Welcome to the party.” Says Troy
“Where’s the party?” asks James
“You’re looking at her.” Says Troy
“A lorry?” asks James
“It’s full of fireworks.” Says Troy
“Is it New Year’s already?” asks James
“It will look like it when this baby
goes off.” Says Troy
“What you’ve got some snakes and
sparklers in there?” asks James
“James is our explosive guy. He’s been
working on this for months. He was hoping we’d find somebody crazy enough to
drive it.” Says Matilda
“I do like explosions.” Says James
“Good. You seem to know who deserves this
sort of gift, so I’ll let you call the shots. I don’t want Matilda to die, so
you might be going solo.” Says Troy
“Nobody’s going to die.” Says James
“The point was kind of to have plenty
of people die.” Says Troy
“Well, nobody in this room is going to
die. I’d like some company along the way. I’ve got something in mind.” Says
James
“If you plan on escaping I can leave a
car for you.” Says Troy
“Good. Park her outside the blast range
of the Cole Bridge.” Says James
“You don’t like that bridge?” says Troy
“It’s all about the chaos, there are juicer
targets, but I’m trying to walk away from this. The street under it is empty at
night, so that’s my reasoning, easy entry, easy exit.” Says James
“You’re a smart man. I’ll drop off the car;
I’ll give you the second set of keys.” Says Troy as he walks away.
“I am surprised you didn’t hesitate at
all.” Says Matilda
“It’s not every day that a man gets the
opportunity to enjoy himself.” Says James
“You’re not worried about the cops?”
asks Matilda
“I own the cops; they know who I am and
they wouldn’t suspect me of doing anything like this. It’s the perfect alibi.”
Says James
“Let’s hope so.” Says Matilda
The two get in the lorry and drive
under the bridge. It is deserted as the docks are closed for the night. They
park the lorry on the side of the road under the bridge and turn the hazards
on. They calmly walk away. James stops. “You don’t want to watch?” he asks
“Troy said it had a radius of 200
meters, I don’t think we’re that far yet.” Says Matilda
“I want to feel it’s warmth and the
caress of the shockwave.” Says James
“You are tempting me.” Says Matilda
“It’s a once in a lifetime experience.
You wouldn’t want to miss it.” Says James
“After that we’re running. The car is
just over there.” Says Matilda
“Let there be light!” says James as he
pressed the detonator. The lorry explodes. The shockwave blows their hair back
as they stare at it as a piece of shrapnel hits Matilda in the leg and she
screams.
“Fuck!” she cries as she falls down.
“Time to go.” Says James, he picks her
up and carries her to the car as the bridge crumbles behind them. He unlocks it
and puts her inside.
“God damn it, you’re so stupid.” Says
Matilda, crying
“I’ll get you fixed up. You’re lucky I
have a personal doctor.” Says James
“I don’t want to die.” She says
“I said nobody’s going to die,
remember. Trust me. You’re not bleeding that bad.” Says James
“It fucking hurts.” She says
“Just relax. It will be all right
soon.” Says James, Matilda loses consciousness
James arrives at his doctor’s house and
carries the girl to the door.
“James, holy shit. What happened?” asks
the doctor
“Fireworks accident.” Says James
“You’re fucking kidding me. Are you
talking about what just happened?” asks the doctor
“The money I give you says no, we were
just playing with fireworks.” Says James
“That’s a lot of fucking money, but
that’s why I love you.” Says the doctor
“I’m glad we are on the same page.”
Says James as he takes the girl inside and places her on the doctors kitchen
table.
“I’m going to need a new tablecloth
after this one.” Says the doctor
“I figured you would have plenty of
spares.” Says James
“Oh, I do. Don’t worry about that.”
Says the Doctor as he begins to operate
“Some fucking fireworks, this is a
square inch of steel.” Says the doctor
“You know I only buy the good stuff.”
Says James
“Fuck you James. You’re killing me.
Don’t make me laugh when I’ve got to stitch this girl up. Who is she anyways?”
Says the doctor
“A fun loving friend of mine.” Says
James
“She doesn’t look like the type of girl
who hangs around a cocaine lounge.” Says the doctor
“You take me for my father; I’ve got a
more wholesome approach to having fun than he did.” Says James
“I don’t recall any times where your
father brought an unconscious girl to me with a square inch of steel embedded
in her leg.” Says the doctor
“You don’t remember because people
don’t typically take dead hookers to the doctor.” Says James
“Damn, it hurts me to hear you talking
bad about your pops after he passed, you know?” says the doctor
“Who said I was talking bad?” says
James
“Atta boy. Your girl should be fine,
her leg might be fucked up but she won’t die.” Says the doctor
“That’s good. That’s all I wanted to
hear.” Says James
“What are you going to do with her
now?” asks the doctor
“Take her home. It’s the only place I
can store a possibly dead body safely.” Says James
“I told you she’ll be fine.” Says the
doctor
“Just a precaution, I didn’t say
probably.” Says James
“Always hedging your bets, there’s a
reason you’re so successful.” Says the Doctor
“Thanks for your help doc. I’ll take
her and get out of your hair.” Says James
“You want some oxys?” asks the doctor
“I’ve got plenty of them lying around.
You give them out like they’re mints.” Says James
“I’m a doctor, what do you expect?”
asks the doctor
“I suppose I couldn’t expect any less.
Thanks again.” Says James, picking up the girl.
“Any time. I’ll get the door for you.”
says the doctor “Try to make better decisions next time, or else there might
not be a next time.”
“I’ll see you next time, doc.” Says
James as he exits
“Why does there have to be a next
time?” asks the Doctor
“I might get a cold or something.”
Jokes James putting the girl in the car
“Fuck you.” Jokes the doctor
“Take care.” Says James
“You too, kid.” Says the doctor as James
drives off.
James arrives at his mansion and brings
the girl inside and puts her on his bed. He sits in a chair besides the bed, a
bit distraught, realizing that this was his fault. He falls asleep in the
chair. The camera blacks out.
“James.” Says Matilda, softly in the
morning light
“Matilda.” Says James
“I thought I was dead.” Says Matilda
“I told you nobody was going to die.”
Says James
“I’m pretty sure a lot of people on the
bridge died James.” Says Matilda
“I later corrected the statement saying
neither you, I, nor Troy would die.” Says James
“Fuck you. This hurts so fucking bad.”
Says Matilda, playful but in pain
“I got some oxys and water for you.
You’ll feel better.” Says James
“You sure know how to treat a lady
right.” Says Matilda
“I’m sorry about all that. I am an
idiot.” Says James
“For a billionaire genius you’re pretty
stupid sometimes.” Says Matilda
“It won’t happen again; the doctor said
your leg might be fucked up.” Says James
“No shit my leg might be fucked up. I’m
glad you got a doctor to confirm your suspicion.” Says Matilda
“He’s a good man. I saved you the piece
of metal, as a keepsake.” Says James
“Damn, that thing is huge.” Says
Matilda
“You’re lucky it didn’t more damage.”
Says James
“I’m a lucky girl, what can I say.
You’re proof enough of that.” Says Matilda
“I don’t know, I got you into this
situation, didn’t I?” asks James
“You got me out of it too.” Says
Matilda
“Get some rest, you need it.” Says
James
“Where are we?” asks Matilda
“My place.” Says James
“Damn, I almost expected more out of
you.” Says Matilda
“What can I say, I’m fairly modest.”
Says James
“Cold, grey, metallic, vacant. This
room reminds me of you. In a good way. The bed is your soft spot of course.”
“That’s why you’re in it.” Says James
“Fuck you.” Jokes Matilda
“At least I tried, right?” says James
“You’re the last person I’d expect to
feed me some sappy bullshit.” Says Matilda
“Sorry, the sunshine and sobriety
brings out the sociopathic instinct to hide my inhuman side.” Says James
“I was wondering where that came from.
Close the blinds if it hurts you so bad.” Says Matilda
“It only hurts when the people don’t
deserve to be treated that way.” Says James
“You’re killing me James. Maybe I’d be
eating it up if I wasn’t writing in pain.” Says Matilda
“So there’s a little girl inside of you
after all.” Jokes James
“Brining that up almost hurts more than
the wound in my leg.” Says Matilda
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt
you.” Says James
“That would make you the first.” Says
Matilda
“There’s a first time for everything.”
Says James
“I wouldn’t push my luck. Thanks again
though. That explosion was wicked.” Says Matilda
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Says James
“I’m a sick little kitten, you know
that.” Says Matilda
“It’s cute though. It’s just a cute
little sneeze.” Says James
“You are clearly the sicker of us.”
Jokes Matilda
“It feels good though.” Says James
“It really does. I’m slipping. Don’t
leave me; I don’t think I can walk.” Says Matilda
“Don’t worry.” Says James, as Matilda
falls asleep
The sun moves across the sky. James
gets her some crutches and leaves them besides the bed and reads a book.
“What are the crutches for?” asks
Matilda
“Well I’m not going to carry you to the
bathroom.” Says James
“Here I was thinking you were the
romantic type. I suppose there’s nothing romantic about watching me piss and
shit blood, is there?” asks Matilda
“That’s sort of romantic.” Says James
“You sick motherfucker.” Jokes Matilda
“I mean the whole carrying you there
part, all hurt and stuff. I’m not that weird.” Says James
“Back-peddling while you still can; I
can respect that.” Says Matilda
“Now I’m kind of tempted to do it, just
to make you feel weird.” Says James
Matilda laughs. “Why did you want to
blow up that bridge anyways?” she asks
“Well, I’ve got plenty of money in construction
firms that work for the city. They get a big contract, I get some returns.”
Says James
“I should have figured as much. Always
about the money.” Says Matilda
“If you’re going to have fun, why not
make some money while you’re at it.” Says James
“I’m so torn about you; you love the
chaos but do the despicable shit anarchists hate.” Says Matilda
“I’m just in it for the fun. You know
that.” Says James
“I don’t. I doubt I’ll ever be able to
do any more than limp for the rest of my life. What is stopping you from
leaving me for dead then running out and picking up some other dumb bitch who
will fall for you and do that sick fucked up shit you like to do so you can
make more money. You don’t give a damn about me. You just want to make your
fucking money.” Says Matilda
“Matilda, if it was about the money,
wouldn’t you already be dead on the road under the bridge? If I didn’t give a
fuck about you, why would I risk my life trying to save you? You’re more
important to me than the money, Matilda.” Says James
“Damn it James. I’m just upset that I
can’t do crazy shit with you anymore.” Says Matilda
“It was fun while it lasted. Nothing
lasts forever.” Says James
“What are you going to do, just give up
on anarchy?” asks Matilda
“I have an idea.” Says James, smiling the
screen fades to black, 25 Years later appears.
A crowd of hundreds of people flood out
of the subway, each clad in black and wearing a ski-mask as a lorry drives down
the street and parks in front of City Hall. The crowd is chanting “Death and
Taxes.” The driver climbs out of the lorry, “200 meters! Block the roads!” he
shouts. The crowds surrounding the lorry empty the surrounding area and stand
in the adjacent roads, still chanting. The lorry explodes, and destroys much of
the City Hall. The crowd then runs away in mass.
A group of young men and women and some
teenagers walk through a door. “We’re home.” They shout
“How was your day, children?” asks
Matilda, 25 years older
“It was great. We blew up City Hall
with a truck bomb, even Jimmy helped.” Says the one of the youngest
“I just stenciled Fuck Taxes all over
the place.” Says Jimmy
“That’s my boy, hanging the mistletoe
above the heads of the capitalists and the anarchists.” Says James, also old
“Are you sure nobody followed you
home?” asks Matilda
“Of course not, the black bloc was
1,000 strong.” Says the one of the older boys
“You make me a proud father.” Says
James “Who would have guessed God would have blessed me with 9 anarchist children
and one business magnate?”
“You would have had 10 anarchists, but
something made me take your advice to follow in your footsteps.” Says Jimmy
“That’s the ghost of your grandfather.
He’s a spooky bastard. At least you get your kicks with the rest of them.” Says
James
“All work and no play makes Jack a dull
boy.” Says Jimmy
“Here I was thinking you were only
coming along because it was in your business interests.” Says one of the girls
“A man can have more than one reason to
enjoy a drink after work, can’t he?” asks Jimmy
“Of course. I’m sure you’re thirsty.
Have a drink to celebrate.” Says James
“Do you ever feel bad about the
innocent people that died, I mean we killed the politicians for wanting to
raise the taxes, but I’m sure there were some janitors in there that didn’t do
anything.” Says one of the younger girls
“It’s sad, but they’re just collateral
damage. In the end it comes down to the black and the red. I’ll always be the
one to side with profits and the black bloc over debt and moralistic
bloodletting.” Says James
“That’s why I married you.” Says
Matilda as she leans over and kisses James
“It only takes one good man to do the
right thing and change the world. Remember that, and you will go far.” Says
James
“Or one woman, too.” Says Matilda
“Did you two forget that you are
terrorists again? You’re acting like lovebirds.” asks one of the adult girls
“You can be both, you know.” Says
Matilda
“You ten are the living proof of that.”
Says James
“I’ll try to diversify my portfolio and
invest in some love one of these days.” Says Jimmy
“If you find you can no longer conquer,
remember that love conquers all.” Says Matilda
“I’m not sure that’s exactly what that
means.” Says one of the girls
“These profit margins would like to
argue otherwise.” Jokes Jimmy
“Atta boy. Keep the faith.” Says James
The film blacks out and credits roll.
“Not quite the wholesome romantic
comedy I expected.” Says Jenna timidly
“I can see why my dad liked it.” Says
Isabelle, getting up to turn the lights on
“I thought it was cute.” Says Stacy
“That wasn’t cute at all. Those people
were so evil.” Says Ophelia
“There was a happy ending though.” Says
Stacy
“It was kind of nice if you ignore all
the bad things, the guy really did care about the girl.” Says Ophelia
“There wasn’t a single decent guy in
that movie, everyone was reproachable.” Says Grace
“I thought Ricky was a stand up guy.”
Says Stacy
“They were all so vulgar. I didn’t even
know people could be that vulgar.” Says Ophelia
“There are a lot of things you don’t
know. You experience things and become cultured, that how it works, even if it
is vulgar sometimes.” Says Stacy
“That was vulgar like 100% of the
time.” Says Ophelia
“It was like 50% at best.” Says Stacy
“Still, I was fairly shocked by that
movie as well. Who is the target audience?” asks Jenna
“Men, clearly. Maybe some crazy psycho
girls, but definitely men.” Says Isabelle
“Is it bad that even though James was so evil
I still want a guy like that who would care for me and love me? It was a few
days of awful but 25 years of love, right?” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure if you are willing to put up
with somebody’s evilness, they will love you even more.” Says Isabelle
“I might be ok with that. People tell
me I’ve got to put up with some bad parts of a guy, so I think I’d be happy as
long as he loves me.” Says Ophelia
“Try to have higher standards than
that.” Says Jenna
“I can’t help it; just the thought of a
man caring for me like that makes me willing to tolerate the fact that he kills
people or is crazy or something.” Says Ophelia
“I suppose this is where children come
from.” Says Grace
“I doubt it’s usually that romantic.”
Says Stacy
“It’s usually a mistake, insurance
against relationship failure, or simply to expand the workforce of your family
farm or something. I doubt the majority of people have children just because
they love children or each other.” Says Isabelle
“You’re finally seeing the light.” Says
Grace
“They say you should love your work,
but the reason why most people work is not because they love it.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure plenty of children are born
because of real love. It’s not all just weird agreements or whatever.” Says
Ophelia
“It’s definitely love.” Says Isabelle,
smirking
“Love only in the sense of the common
euphemism.” Says Grace
“I’m not arguing with that.” Says
Isabelle
“I don’t care. Even that terrible movie
makes me want to be loved. I feel like I’m missing out.” Says Ophelia
“None of us have boyfriends, you’re not
missing out.” Says Isabelle
“Maybe we’re all missing out.” Says
Ophelia
“What exactly do you want from a
boyfriend?” asks Grace
“Somebody to hold me and kiss me and
love me, my body feels so holdable but nobody is holding it, it feels so wrong.”
Says Ophelia
“Nobody is going to argue with your
holdability, plenty of hand holds on that body.” Says Isabelle
“And holding hands and stuff, you’re so
right. It’s so lonely.” Says Ophelia
“If you want a boy to fall in love with
you, you’ve got to know how to please him.” says Stacy
“Now it hurts even more because I don’t
know what to do.” Says Ophelia
“You don’t want to know.” Says Isabelle
“Yes, I really do. So bad.” Says
Ophelia
“I can teach you how to kiss, if you
want to.” Says Grace, looking away slyly
“You know how to do that?” asks Ophelia
“Sure, it’s not hard.” Says Grace
“You’re really doing this, Grace?” asks
Isabelle
“I’m just trying to help.” Says Grace
“I’m kind of nervous.” Says Ophelia
“Just relax, and copy me, it’s not
practice if you don’t kiss me back.” Says Grace
“Ok.” Says Ophelia
Grace crawls over to Ophelia who was
sitting on the floor, and moves her hair aside and kisses her softly and slowly
on the lips a few strokes before backing away. “You didn’t even try. You’ve got
to relax and just copy me. If you’re tense like that people will think you
don’t like them.” Says Grace
“Ok. Try again.” Grace grabs the back
of her head and touches noses with her, kissing her, this time Ophelia kisses
her back, timidly at first, but warming up to Graces affection.
“That’s better.” Says Grace
“It really does feel good. I can see
why people like it so much.” Says Ophelia
“We can keep practicing if you want;
the next step is using the tongue.” Says Grace
“No holds barred.” Says Isabelle, a bit
shocked
“I’m not going to hold her back.” Says
Grace
“I should be holding you back.” Says
Isabelle
“Come on, she’s just trying to help.”
Says Ophelia
“Be my guest.” Says Isabelle, looking
away awkwardly
Grace stares Ophelia in the eyes, “Just
try to copy me and use your tongue like I do. We’re still kissing but this is
the more advanced kind. I’m going to pretend to be the boy, so you can do the
girls part.” She says
“Ok.” Says Ophelia timidly. Grace
begins to kiss her, Ophelia replies timidly and grace begins to lick the gap
between her lips. Ophelia copies her and Grace manages to get her tongue into
Ophelia’s mouth and Ophelia returns the favor. Grace leans against Ophelia,
pushing her to the ground.
“Are you ok?” asks Ophelia
“I’m being the boy, trust me, you
should like hold me and stuff.” Says Grace
“Ok.” Says Ophelia as Grace straddles
her, Ophelia embraces her partner as they continue to kiss as Grace pours passion
into Ophelia’s playful response. Grace slips her hand under Ophelia’s shirt and
slides her bra strap off and begins to fondler her breast. Ophelia starts to
return Grace’s affection more passionately. This goes on for a couple of
minutes before Isabelle interrupts.
“That’s enough. I didn’t think I would
be the one to have to step in to stop that.” Says Isabelle
Stacy and Jenna are both visibly
confused, too shocked, to say anything.
“Did it go too long? I don’t know how
long it should last.” Says Ophelia
“That is your question? No modesty?”
says Isabelle
“I mean Grace is a really good teacher.
She makes it easy.” Says Ophelia
“You’re the one making it easy.” Says
Isabelle
“You think I’m that good of a student?”
says Ophelia
“You did great.” Says Grace
“You were amazing, I didn’t think it
would feel so good, but that makes me feel better now that I know what to do.”
Says Ophelia
“I’m just going to clarify that you
don’t object to anything she did?” asks Isabelle
“She said she would be the boy, so I’m
pretty sure she did it right.” Says Ophelia
“And Grace is safe on second, I’ll be
damned.” Says Isabelle
“What?” asks Ophelia
“Don’t worry about it; it’s just a
stupid joke.” Says Grace
“Why do you two look so spooked?” asks
Ophelia
“No reason. Must be the movie.” Says
Jenna, nervously
“I’m just glad we’re not in a panel van
right now.” Says Stacy
“That doesn’t make any sense. You girls
should practice too; otherwise no boy is going to like you.” Says Ophelia
“Nope. Not today.” Says Stacy
“I’m fine, I’ll let the boy teach me.”
Says Jenna
“I don’t let Grace do any of that to me;
call me a prude.” Says Isabelle
“It’s important, but if you really
don’t want to. I mean I was scared at first too, but it feels really good.”
Says Ophelia
“I think we learned enough from
watching. Thanks for volunteering, Ophie.” Says Jenna
“I’ve definitely seen enough. No
concerns on my end.” Says Stacy
“We’ve had plenty of everything today
it was great, but, it’s about that time we wash up and head to sleep, we’ve got
to wake up early tomorrow.” Says Isabelle
“Where will we sleep?” asks Jenna
“Well, there are two guest rooms
upstairs, I’m sure everybody wants to sleep in a bed, the bad news is there’s
only one bed in each of them so you’ve got to pair up. I’ll be in mine, but
it’s a small bed.” Says Isabelle
“I’ll sleep with Stacy; she takes up the
least amount of room.” Says Jenna, quickly
“You’re not that big, but I can
understand your decision.” Says Isabelle, grimacing
“Unless she objects, Ophelia is in your
bed, Grace.” Continues Isabelle, concernedly
“I’m ok with that.” Says Ophelia,
pleasantly
“Ok, then…” says Isabelle at a loss for
words “Please behave yourselves.” Says Isabelle
“We will.” Says Ophelia, cutely
“I was looking at Grace, but anyways.”
Says Isabelle “Who wants to shower first, I vote Grace because I have to get
night clothes for everybody else, and Grace has some here already.” Says
Isabelle
“Don’t be a wet blanket, Isabelle.”
Says Grace, glaring playfully at her friend
“I just feel like it’s my
responsibility to at least attempt to acquire some form of acknowledged
consent. I fear there will be a wet blanket here, be it me or an actual
blanket. Go wash and we will know by the time you get back.”
“You act like there wasn’t any of that
before.” Says Grace
“What are you talking about?” asks
Ophelia
“That is exactly what I’m talking about.”
Says Isabelle
“Don’t worry about it, Ophelia. They’re
just being weird. Don’t let them corrupt your mind.” Says Grace as she goes
upstairs to wash
“Ophelia we know you understand what
love is. So who wants to try to explain this.” Says Isabelle
“Ophie, you understand people can have
different intentions than what they say, right?” asks Jenna
“What do you mean?” asks Ophelia
“Well if somebody says they want to help you study but they really just help you
because they want your candy. You
could understand that is why they are helping you, right?” asks Jenna
“Well, I do need help with studying,
and I always have lots of candy at my house anyways, so I wouldn’t really care.
We’re both getting what we want in the end.” Says Ophelia
“She has plenty of candy all right.” Says
Isabelle
“I’m just going to let Ophelia figure
this out on her own. I’m not her mom or dad, and we’ve tried to explain this to
her many times. I feel like she just has to learn it by experience or
something. Who’s with me?” Says Stacy
“I fear this is more of a shortcoming
of her parents, than it is our own. You didn’t think Grace did anything
inappropriate today?” asks Jenna
“Not really, it’s kind of weird because
my parents did say not to let a boy touch me like that, but she was only
pretending to be a boy so I don’t think it’s the same thing really. I think
it’s because they want to treat me like a little girl, if boys really want to
do stuff like that when they kiss, I think that’s ok. I’ve seen it in movies
and stuff.” Says Ophelia
“Well she does kind of know what’s
going on.” Says Isabelle
“Don’t treat me like a little girl,
Jenna; you always want to protect me. I don’t see why you think I can’t do
mature things like that.” Says Ophelia
“It’s not that we think you can’t, you
clearly did them, but it’s more of a question of if you know what you’re
doing.” Says Stacy
“No, I don’t really know, that’s why I’m
glad that somebody is actually doing something to teach me. This stuff is
important, you know. We have to grow up sometime, we’re in high school now.”
Says Ophelia
“I see you really want to learn about
that stuff, we were just checking to make sure that was how you felt.” Says
Isabelle, a bit hesitantly
“That is how I feel; I always talk about
it, just because you girls want to be girls forever doesn’t mean I don’t want
to grow up.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not going to stop you from growing
up. You do what you want to.” Says Stacy
“Thanks, Stacy. You girls get worked up
over nothing.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll support you, even if it’s against
my better judgement.” Says Isabelle
“I’m just not going to beat that dead
horse. It’s not going to get up and start running.” Says Jenna
“Good. That sounds like common sense I
don’t know why you would even try that.” Says Ophelia
“It’s because I really wanted that
horse to start running, Ophelia.” Says Jenna
“You just said it was dead, it’s not
going to start running.” Says Ophelia
“I am coming to terms with that.” Says
Jenna
“That’s good, I’m sorry about your horse.”
Says Ophelia
“I’m with Stacy; this will be
entertaining to say the least.” Says Isabelle
“I’m more so expecting to be amazed and
dumbfounded, than entertained.” Says Stacy
“I would want to feel dumbfounded, but
I wouldn’t be dumbfounded if I went and bought a lottery ticket and lost,
sadly.” Says Jenna
“What can we really do? We can’t expect
to win the lottery.” Says Isabelle
“You can always try though.” Says
Ophelia
“We tried and lost many times, we
should give up gambling.” Says Stacy
“I agree with you. It is possible there
is a 0% chance to win and we are just burning money.” Says Jenna
“Jenna with all the punches tonight. I
think it will be all right, Grace isn’t a bad person or anything.” Says
Isabelle
“At least somebody we can trust might
actually teach her the lessons she has been missing.” Says Stacy
“You think Grace has more to teach me?”
asks Ophelia
“I know for a fact she does and that is
what scares me.” Says Isabelle
“I’m not going to be that smart even if
she teaches me everything, don’t worry.” Says Ophelia
“I’m kind of sad we sent Grace away,
she would have loved to hear this.” Says Isabelle
“Weren’t you supposed to get us clothes
or something?” asks Jenna, trying to avoid the thought
“Yeah, come up to my room; let’s do
that instead of standing here bewildered.” Says Isabelle
The girls turn the lights off and exit
the basement, they go upstairs and up another flight into Isabelle’s room. It
is quite cute, colorful and feminine, decorated with animals and similar toys.
“Wow, your room is so cute Isabelle.”
Says Ophelia
“Thanks, I guess.” Says Isabelle
“I didn’t think you would be this much
of the cutesy type.” Says Stacy
“I mean I love the animals, the colors
were my mom’s choice.” Says Isabelle
“I like it; it’s really well put together.”
Says Jenna
“I’ve got plenty of nightgowns and
stuff, take your pick. You might want a longer one Jenna; you’re a bit taller
than me. There’s plenty of those toothbrushes you get from the dentist in the
bottom drawer under the sink, they tend to pile up, I’m sure you want to brush
your teeth.” Says Isabelle
Grace returns in a nightgown. Three
sensible girls look a bit dispirited and awkwardly look at Grace.
“Why the werid look?” asks Grace
“You know what we tried to do, and you
know we failed to break the surface.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t know why they don’t want to
grow up.” Says Ophelia
“Somebody go wash. You win Grace.” Says
Isabelle
“What does she win?” asks Ophelia
“Nothing, forget I said anything. Go
wash.” Says Isabelle
“Ok.” Says Ophelia as she taker her
nightgown and goes to wash
Isabelle falls back on her bed. “I feel
like I just threw that poor girl to the wolves.” Says Isabelle
“Romulus and Remus built Rome; it may
not be so bad.” Says Stacy
“You girls are hopeless. What’s wrong
with having a little fun.” Says Grace
“Just not too much, ok?” says Isabelle
“I give you my permission to do
whatever you were planning on doing. You may be the only one that can teach
Ophelia anything about the world.” Says Stacy
“We’ve all tried and failed, I suppose
there is nothing we can do.” Says Jenna
“Are you all upset with me or
something? It felt like she was into it.” Says Grace
“No, I still love you Grace, not like
that, but I just kind of feel bad.” Says Isabelle
“She said she liked it, what’s wrong
with that.” Says Grace
“It’s just that she doesn’t know a damn
thing about anything.” Says Isabelle
“I’m just hoping you will teach her
something that we can’t.” Says Jenna
“I’ll see what I can do.” Says Grace
“I’m pretty happy with the outcome; you
don’t even drive a panel van. That’s pretty lucky when you think about it.”
Says Stacy
“I’ll treat her right.” Says Grace
“This might be a scenario where
treating others the way you want to be treated is not quite the best course of
action.” Says Isabelle
“I’d go at her like the piece of meat
she is, she should really learn what people want from her.” Says Stacy
“She’s not just a piece of meat.” Says
Grace
“A piece of meat seems to know that
inaction is sometimes the best course of action, Ophelia does not seem to know
that. I’m with Stacy; we’ve got to throw her to the wolves if we want her to
learn.” Says Jenna
“You think she will actually learn
anything?” asks Stacy
“She did say I was a good teacher.”
Says Grace
“If I can ask you something, don’t be
graphic, use euphemisms and whatnot. She comes from a religious family and
that’s why she’s so sheltered. She needs to learn, but I don’t want her to go
home with some horror stories that will get her beaten by her dad.” Says Jenna
“I’ll play nice, don’t worry. I
wouldn’t want that to happen either.” Says Grace
“Thank you.” Says Stacy
“I told you she isn’t a bad person.
It’s like we’ve got nothing to worry about.” Says Isabelle
“Please, whatever you do, don’t teach
her the word lesbian. If her dad finds out that even one of her friends is a
lesbian, we will probably never see her again.” Says Jenna
“She doesn’t know what that is?” asks
Grace
“We figured that out pretty quick.”
Says Isabelle
“She doesn’t know a lot of things, if
you haven’t figured that out yet.” Says Stacy
“Her parents kind of forbid her from
learning about anything that isn’t what they deem appropriate. She didn’t get
to take sex education in middle school because of that.” Says Jenna
“That’s kind of messed up. That clearly
did not benefit her at all.” Says Isabelle
“Yeah, but we can’t really do anything
about it. Her parents don’t want her to learn and that kind of rubbed off on
her in a bad way. She’s pretty stubborn.” Says Stacy
“My mind is telling me no, but my body
is telling me otherwise.” Says Grace
“Have at it, no reason not to eat that
fruit when it’s ripe, somebody much worse than you is going to get it if you
don’t claim it for yourself.” Says Stacy
“You’re not going to hit me with the Lord’s
Prayer?” asks Grace
“That one’s pretty tired. I don’t have
any moral objection to it, it’s basically like our inside joke now. Just seeing
how far you can take it without being found out.” Says Stacy
“I am torn, but my moral objection to
her being raped and murdered is a lot higher than to you fooling around with
her.” Says Jenna
“You’re really going to play dumb to it?” asks Grace
“Nothing wrong with fighting fire with fire, clearly the
water wasn’t doing a damn thing so this is our last hope.” Says Stacy
“Thanks. I’m glad you’re not revolted or anything by it. I
don’t like to say it, but I’m kind of like Ophelia, searching for love and what
not, kind of desperate, you know.” Says Grace
“Good luck. I’m sure it will easy to get her to love you
platonically, it’s taking it beyond that I’m not so sure about.” Says Stacy
“I’m grateful for what I can get, especially from a girl
like that.” Says Grace, awed
“She’s just your type isn’t she?” Asks Isabelle
“A little slow and childish, but everything else is
perfect.” Says Grace
“I’m glad at least somebody can enjoy her strong suit. It
would be a shame to throw that in to a ditch.” Says Jenna
“I’ll protect her, don’t worry about it.” Says Grace
“You’ve got to keep a blind dog on a short leash, so they
say.” Says Stacy
Ophelia walks in to the room in her nightgown.
“That shower got me all sleepy. Where am I going to sleep
again?” asks Ophelia
“Jenna can show you. Good night.” Says Stacy
“Good night, girls.” Says Grace
“Night.” Says Ophelia as she walks out
with Grace
“That feeling in your heart where the
devil has grabbed your child and ran away with her, it’s not a good one.” Says
Jenna
“That’s the nicest devil I’ve ever met,
I’m going to get plenty of laughs out of this one.” Says Stacy
“You two should wash up, we’ve still
got responsibilities to attend to tomorrow. I’ll show you to your room. I’ve
got to get some sleep too. Follow me.” Says Grace, as she shows the girls to
their room.
“You two don’t mind sleeping together?”
asks Grace
“I know I’ll be able to sleep soundly.”
Says Stacy
“Same. Thanks again, I had a lot of fun
tonight.” Says Jenna
“Me too.” Says Isabelle
“Me three. Here’s to more laughs and
whatnot on the horizon.” Says Stacy, rubbing her eyes
“Good night.” The girls say
“I’m going to wash.” Says Jenna
“Have at it.” Says Stacy
“Don’t fall asleep; I know you don’t
like to wash.” Says Jenna
“It’s not that I dislike washing, per
say, I just don’t like doing things.” Says Stacy
“Washing is a thing.” Says Jenna
“Exactly.” Says Stacy
“You go first, then. Who wants to sleep
in the same bed with a dirty Stacy?” teases Jenna
“Dirty Stacy likes that, but I won’t
inflict that upon you.” Says Stacy
“Good.” Says Jenna as Stacy walks out
of the room to wash.
Stacy returns. “I’m going to sleep. I’m
exhausted.” Says Stacy
“You’re not rattled in the slightest by
that movie?” asks Jenna
“You know how I can know all of the bad
things that happen; I can feel the pain of the people suffering on account of
evil? The movie was a joke compared to that.” Says Stacy
“I almost forgot about that, I feel
sorry you ended up with such a burden.” Says Jenna
“It’s my fault. I’m a smartass and I
got what I deserved. I don’t want to think about it, I’m going to sleep. Good
night.” Says Stacy
“Night.” Says Jenna as she exits to
wash. She returns and climbs into bed, Stacy is asleep.
Ophelia and Grace lie in bed together,
Ophelia falling asleep illuminated by the ambient night while Grace looks at
her longingly.
“Do you mind if I hold you?” asks
Grace, sneaking her arms around Ophelia and pulling her close
“Are you cold?” asks Ophelia sleepily
“A little bit.” Says Grace, playfully
“I’ll keep you warm.” Says Ophelia,
amiably
“Thanks. You’re so much softer and
warmer than the pillows.” Says Grace, nuzzling Ophelia’s neck
“Aww. Thanks. You’re so nice. Your hair
smells really good too.” Says Ophelia
“I like the way you smell, too.” Says
Grace, inhaling deeply, “Do you like me?” she says, after a pause
“Yeah, I like you a lot. You’re like
the only mature one out of the group. It’s nice to have somebody who
understands grown up things like I do.” Says Ophelia
“Did you like it when I kissed you?”
asks Grace
“Yeah, you were really good at it.”
Says Ophelia
Grace kisses her softly on the lips.
“Thanks.”
“I want to be able to do it like you;
you make it feel really good. I don’t know why the other girls don’t want to
learn important things like that.” Says Ophelia
“They’re just a bit childish, I guess.
If you want to get better, you have to practice.” Says Grace
“That’s why I’m glad I have you; they
told me you had a lot more to teach me.” Says Ophelia
“I suppose I do, but we should try to
master the basics first.” Says Grace, playfully
“I really want to be good at it; you
make it super easy to learn, too.” Says Ophelia
“I’m glad.” Says Grace “I can teach you
how to do it when you’re on top this time if you want.” Says Grace
“What’s the difference?” asks Ophelia
“You’ve got to be more aggressive,
you’re the one in charge.” Says Grace
“That does sound kind of hard.” Says
Ophelia
“We’ve got plenty of time for you to
get it right.” Says Grace, pulling Ophelia on top of her
“That’s good. The one thing I don’t
know is how long it is supposed to go.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll let you know. As long as you’re
having fun, you don’t really have to stop.” Says Grace, playfully
“That’s good.” Say Ophelia
“So are you going to kiss me?” asks
Grace, playfully
“Right, I’m in charge.” Says Ophelia as
she start to kiss Grace slowly, Grace wraps her arms around Ophelias back and
neck pulling her tight, Ophelia follow’s her lead. Grace’s enthusiasm is slowly
matched before returning to the same passionate intensity as before. Grace
grabs Ophelia’s hand and slides it up her nightgown and places it on her breast
which Ophelia instinctively begins to fondle. Grace slides her hand down Ophelia’s
back and gropes her ass thoroughly, pulling it towards her groin as she
straddles Ophelia’s legs and begins to grind on her hips. Ophelia attempts to
match Grace’s growing voracity, who is grinding harder and faster on her hips
and breathing heavily, pulling Ophelia’s head towards her neck, which she
begins to kiss. Ophelia begins to stroke Grace’s nipple with her thumb as Grace
had done to her earlier. “Yes.” Grace whispers as she begins grinding even more
vigorously against Ophelia’s leg. Suddenly, she wraps her leg tightly around
Ophelia’s leg and starts to quiver with the strokes of her hips. “Oh my god.”
Whispers Grace, panting and arching her neck back, She begins to kiss Ophelia’s
neck, once again grinding against her hips slowly but with a good deal of
force.
“Are you Ok?” ask Ophelia
“Yeah. You were really good.” Says
Grace, breathing heavily
“I tried do copy you. You really are cold;
you started shivering for a second.” Says Ophelia
“Just don’t let go.” Says Grace
“I won’t.” says Ophelia, still amiable
“Thanks.” Says Grace, holding Ophelia
firmly, rolling her off to her side, still straddling her legs.
“Did you like it?” asks Grace,
sensually
“Yeah. Your leg was making me feel kind
of excited and tingly for some reason, you know, down there.” Says Ophelia
“That’s a good sign, I’m glad you liked
it.” Says Grace
“I’ve never done this with my friends,
but it was really fun.” Says Ophelia
“I really liked it too.” Says Grace
“Do you do this with Isabelle?” asks
Ophelia
“No, she doesn’t like this kind of
stuff. I’m glad you do, though.” Says Grace
“I wonder why.” Says Ophelia, genuinely
curious
“Well, me and Isabelle are more like
buddies, where you and I were doing is something that friends would do.” Says
Grace
“I’m glad I’m you’re my friend then.”
says Ophelia
“Me too.” Says Grace, pulling Ophelia’s
hair back and kissing her sensually
“Every time you do that my heart flutters a
little bit. You’re that good at it, you know.” Says Ophelia
“Now you’ve just got to learn to do it
to me.” Says Grace, smiling, Ophelia returns her kiss
“Thanks.” Says Grace
“I hope you’re not too hot now. You’re
kind of sweating a lot down there.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure I’d be cold again if you let
go of me.” Says Grace
“Then I won’t let go of you.” Says
Ophelia
“Good.” Says Grace, nuzzling Ophelia
lovingly, the girls fall asleep in each other’s arms
The sun yawns lazily throwing its arms
indifferently over the bodies of the young girls. Ophelia cracks her eyes
slowly, lying on her back with one arm still around Grace who lies on her side
watching her friend. Grace straddles Ophelia and kisses her gently before
embracing her friend’s body gratefully.
“Good morning.” Says Grace, playfully
“That’s a friendly way to wake somebody
up.” Says Ophelia, smiling
“Well, you’re my friend, right?” asks
Grace
“Of course.” Says Ophelia, amicably
pleased
“Good.” Says Grace, squeezing her and
kissing her neck “I like watching you sleep.” She says
“Is it that funny?” asks Ophelia
“It’s cute.” Says Grace
“Aww, thanks.” Says Ophelia. “We really
should get ready to go.” Says Ophelia
“I just want to lay in bed with you.”
Says Grace, cuddling her friend
“You read my mind. You really are the
best pillow.” Says Ophelia, returning some of Grace’s affection
“Thanks for keeping me warm last
night.” Says Grace
“No problem. I would feel bad if you
were cold.” Says Ophelia, sincerely
“It feels good to keep each other warm,
doesn’t it?” asks Grace
“Yeah, like really good.” Says Ophelia
“Good. We can go a little bit further
next time.” Says Grace, kissing her cheek
“We didn’t go anywhere though.” Says
Ophelia, confused
“Of course we didn’t.” teases Grace “Let’s
just stay right here, then.” Says Grace
“I’d love to.” Says Ophelia as she
mutually cuddles with Grace playfully
The two inhale each other’s pleasure with
one another for a comfortable moment before being interrupted.
“Get up, you two. It’s time for
breakfast. I don’t want to come in there.” Says Isabelle, knocking on the door
“We’re coming!” shouts Ophelia through
the door. She groans. “I don’t want to get up, but we have to.” Says Ophelia,
sitting up “Let’s get dressed, we wouldn’t want to be late.” She says
Grace reluctantly lets go of her as she
stands up and takes her nightgown off and begins to dress in her clothes from
yesterday.
“You’re not getting up?” asks Ophelia
“I just want to watch you.” Says Grace
“Why?” asks Ophelia
“You’re even more beautiful in the
sunlight.” Says Grace
“You sure know how to make a girl feel
good.” Says Ophelia, smiling
“I’m glad you think so.” Says Grace
“Ok, now you really have to change.”
Says Ophelia, dressed again
“I suppose I do.” Says Grace as she
takes off her nightgown
“How do I look?” asks Grace, wearing
only her panties
“Stunning. Like a model.” Says Ophelia
“Do you want to take a picture?” asks
Grace
“I think you need a few more clothes on
for that.” Jokes Ophelia
“I wouldn’t mind, if the picture’s just
for you.” Says Grace
“It would be a beautiful picture, just like
an old painting, but I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be a bit more covered
up these days.” Says Ophelia
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
Says Grace, putting her bra on
“Ok. Maybe it would be OK to paint you,
but I’m not really a good painter.” Says Ophelia
“It’s the thought that counts.” Says
Grace, smiling
“I can smell the breakfast from here. I
bet you’re hungry.” Says Ophelia
“I did work up a bit of an appetite
last night.” Says Grace
“That’s good. I’m sure it’s healthy.
Let’s go.” Says Ophelia as the girls go down stairs and meet their friends at
the kitchen table.
“It smells so yummy. What is it?” asks
Ophelia
“Beet hash and eggs.” Says Daria,
smiling
“Isabelle can never get enough beets it
seems.” Says Grace
“Tis the season.” Says Daria
“Nothing better than fresh beets.” Says
Isabelle
“Who’s hungry?” asks Daria serving the
food to generous thanks.
“Remarkably delicious.” Says Stacy,
digging in
“I’m glad you like it. It’s one of
Isabelle’s favorites.” Says Daria
“With good reason too.” Says Jenna
“I’m glad she will eat the eggs, I
worry about her getting enough protein.” Says Daria
“It may sound weird, but it’s kind of
like eating the hen’s menstruation. It’s going to happen regardless of anything
so long as the hen is alive, and since they’re not fertilized it’s not like
eating a real animal, it would be a waste to let something that delicious go to
waste.” Says Isabelle
“I would shed a tear.” Says Stacy,
sipping on milk
“Thankfully we don’t lay eggs, or we
would end up in cages just like hens.” Says Grace
“You think people would eat their own
kind like that?” asks Jenna
“Pigs eat their own babies, and I don’t
put men in a category any higher than that.” Says Grace
“That is so sad.” Says Ophelia
“If it was that time of the month and I
just happened to lay an egg, what else am I going to do with it?” asks Stacy
“You are supposed to sit on it and wait
for it to hatch.” Says Ophelia
“It’s not that kind of egg; it wouldn’t
have a baby inside. The only thing inside of there is nutrients my body
diverted from my body because of some primordial instinct. It’s just recycling
at that point.” Says Stacy
“It’s not like I think a baby dies
every time the moon decides to beat up my uterus.” Says Isabelle
“I was told that God hurts you
sometimes because he wanted you to have a baby.” Says Daria
“I’m pretty sure a baby would kill me.
I’ll just bear god’s wrath for my sacrilege.” Says Stacy
“I think we’re still too young.
Pregnancy kills a lot of young women in the developing world because their
bodies aren’t developed enough to safely bear children.” Says Jenna
“Well, that is true, but when you get
to be my age you start to wonder.” Says Daria
“The pain of struggling to rear a child
over the course of its life is the real punishment for you disrespecting God.”
Says Grace
“It’s not always painful, Isabelle is
not really my child, but I love her like she is. Every day with her is a
blessing.” Says Daria
“But I’m a pretty awesome one, there
are some terrible children, and sad stories, and plenty of people have trouble
just keeping their kids alive. I can see Jenna’s point.” Says Isabelle
“They struggle, but it is worth it to
the parents, they love their children enough to suffer themselves so that the
child may prosper. That feeling can overpower the pain.” Says Daria
“I would take it as a concession; most
of the time in that scenario there’s nothing you can do about having a child.
Sure I would love the child, but it would be hard at the same time for me to
give up on my dreams like being successful.” Says Stacy
“I suppose in a lot of places, having
children is the most successful a woman can be. A lot of them don’t even think
about education, they see their primary job as having children.” Says Daria
“I think it used to be that way, but nowadays
it’s different as education and workforce integration becomes more prevalent,
even in the developing world.” Says Jenna
“I would say it’s not so much the women
who see that as their primary job, but the men forcing them into it.” Says
Grace
“It used to be the only job.” Says
Daria
“It’s not a bad job, who doesn’t want
to be a mom?” asks Ophelia
“I’d feel kind of guilty about it, it’s
not like I’m passing down the genetics of a racehorse.” Says Stacy
“What are you talking about Stacy,
you’re smart, beautiful, and athletic. You have everything going for you.” Says
Jenna
“That’s like my family, we start out strong
but we tend to crash and burn pretty hard down the stretch.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure there’s plenty of course
correction for that sort of thing these days, especially since you are aware of
it.” Says Isabelle
“Let’s hope so.” Says Stacy
“You girls have somehow failed to meet
bad children in your life. I would feel so guilty if my child turned out to be
a criminal or a terrible person. I would think to myself every night that it is
entirely my fault.” Says Grace
“As long as you do a good job as a
parent, you shouldn’t have to worry. It’s nurtured behavior after all.” Says
Daria
“It takes a village to raise a child,
sadly. It’s hard to argue that society won’t quickly warp the mind of even the
best children.” Says Isabelle
“It shouldn’t be that hard to teach
your child morals and self-respect. My only fear is that my child will be born
with some terrible problem. I would hate to see somebody brought into this
world just to suffer for their entire life and be able to do nothing about it.”
Says Jenna
“That is the risk everybody must take,
it is a terrible gambit but it can be the best decision you ever make.” Says
Daria
“Even then you just have to do your
best to make them happy; their life can still be worthwhile if they are loved.”
Says Ophelia
“Plenty of healthy children are
unloved; it’s hard to think about the unhealthy ones in similar situations.”
Says Grace
“People like that ended up in places that were
similar to prisons where I come from. It was sad, to hear of people given no
opportunities in life.” Says Daria
“I’m just putting my faith in
technology. That seems to be able to solve more problems every day.” Says
Isabelle
“That’s actually a bit comforting. That
conversation became quite glum pretty quick.” Says Jenna
“Whenever there are problems, people
try to solve them. I like to think of it like that.” Says Ophelia
“That or they try to resolve their own
problems by creating problems for somebody else.” Says Grace
“Sounds like a typical workplace to
me.” Says Stacy
“The guys at the bottom are just
solving problems though; they solve their boss’s problems which in turn solves
their own problems. That’s pretty respectable.” Says Isabelle
“The problems that they create are
their relative poverty and lack of education, which are both factors that tend
to increase their affinity to criminal behavior, as well as that affinity
within their children.” Says Jenna
“That’s where the firm authoritarian
hand should be coming into play; you don’t need to worry about disciplining
your children and instilling morals when the supreme leader conditions them
towards developing adaptive social behavior out of the fear of a palpably
guaranteed death if they fail to do so.” Says Stacy
“You think that is a healthy mentality
for a person to have?” asks Jenna
“I’m just saying it’s a winning
strategy, not that it’s perfect. You either fear the government or you fear the
people, take your pick. I think it’s a bit more realistic to hope the
government has its head on straight than it is to hope that every Tom, Dick,
and Harry on the street is a naturally a saint.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure it’s a given that
neither of the two sets will adhere to a moral compass over their own desires.”
Says Grace
“To me it just makes sense to try and
please 10,000 men who all want the same thing than it does to try and please 200
million men who all want different things. One of them is actually possible.”
Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to
please even one man. If men were ever satisfied they wouldn’t kill each other
over petty nonsense like they do.” Says Grace
“Simple men exist, they may be little
more than horses, but at least they’ll be happy to see you after a long day of
chopping wood.” Says Isabelle
“It may be easier to keep a horse
happy, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have the capacity to kick you in the
face if you rub them the wrong way.” Says Grace
“So does everyone and everything, a
tree will fall on you if you cut it the wrong way. You just have to be careful
and try to do things right.” Says Daria
“That’s a dangerous game. It’s like
trying to disarm the same bomb every day of your life because it becomes live
again if you leave it alone. It may be attached to a radio, but running that
risk just to hear a song you like is reckless.” Says Grace
“It’s not hard if you know how to do it.
People disarm bombs for a living, and plenty of them wake up and do it every
day of their working life without dying. A little knowledge goes a long way.”
Says Daria
“I know how to defuse them, and it is an
arduous and degrading process. I’d rather not deal with that every day of my
life.” Says Grace
“I suppose those airs are keeping you
from being down to earth like the rest of us. If you get hurt, you can always
rub some dirt in it.” Says Isabelle
“Does that really help?” asks Ophelia
“Men and women live together in mud
houses made of blood and dirt. It seems to work for most people.” Says Isabelle
“It sounds better than being left out
in the cold.” Says Ophelia
“It is barbaric, but it holds some
truth. I’d try for clay bricks over mud, for structural integrity.” Says Jenna
“That takes time, effort, work ethic,
intelligence, foresight, dedication, organization. These are things that common
people don’t tend to have in great quantities. I’m happy people can find a
place to keep warm.” Says Stacy
“Jenna has a point though; there are
plenty of more so preferable alternatives to the standard.” Says Grace
“I’m sure that people who live in
dumpsters don’t want to live there, but that’s the best they can do. Everybody
dreams of perfection, but the wise ones settle for the best they can get.” Says
Stacy
“Yet countless fools settle for much
worse than what they can get. I just hope you all can see that.” Says Grace
“I’m nowhere near reaching a settlement
on this matter, don’t worry about me.” Says Jenna
“If we’re talking about settling, I
would be the conqueror rather than the settler.” Says Isabelle
“I figure even stray dogs manage to
stay alive, I’m not concerned. I’ve never been thirsty for the creature
comforts. I’ve got my mind and that’s all the company I really need.” Says
Stacy
“You all tell me I should be picky, but
I don’t even know what exactly I should be picking or not picking. I don’t want
to make a bad decision, but I’d rather make a bad one than to not make one at
all.” Says Ophelia
“You’ve just got to be patient, plenty
of men will come chasing you in due time. You will get to take your pick and
I’m sure you will choose well.” Says Daria
“I hope so.” Says Ophelia
“We all do.” Says Jenna, concernedly
dry
“We should really get going, wouldn’t
want to be late. Thanks again for breakfast, Daria. I’ll be back in the
afternoon sometime.” Says Isabelle
“Have fun. Don’t forget your things
now, girls.” Says Daria
“We will. Thanks for having us.” Says
Ophelia as the girls get up and grab their things
“I’ll try.” Says Stacy, halfheartedly
“It was a pleasure to meet you Daria.
Take care.” Says Jenna
“Bye.” Says Grace, as the girls walk
out the door into the morning flavored sunshine
The girls step into the streets,
towered over by their foreseeable shortcomings. The towers of rainbow gold spit
on the peasant, laughed at the pure of heart, and ladled futile ambition into
the mouth of the intellectual. The adventurer was saluted as she voluntarily
embarks on her journey in pursuit of a tasteful suicide while her companion’s
malcontent resonated in harmony with chanting of the fetishes of their owner’s
antipathy, though its addition to the cacophonous rancor was not appreciated or
even acknowledged.
The colors of the urbane fade to the
comforting grey meaninglessness of the urban, the cancers of man’s struggle refined
in their rigid and unwavering uniformity. They stand rigid and firm, embodied
by the mindset of the ethereal parasite that reared them from their birth as a
simple idea and continues to do so in their maturity as the metastasization of
insatiable avarice that is but the malignant undead corpse of humanity’s fear
of death.
The girls arrive in the courtyard,
greeted by their comrades and commanders in their combat uniforms; armed to the
teeth with compassion, youth, and humanity. They march towards the metro as any
other unit of urban guerrillas, their boots fail to march in synch, but their
rallying cries for revolution bring undeniable unity to the platoon.
The metro processes, sorts, and packs
the humans indiscriminately into the metal tin relying entirely on the volition
of the people. The layman may rest on the Shabbat, but the ghosts chained to
the ley lines never do. The desires of the children to impregnate the silence
with their sentiments stirred the air with banter, none willing nor wanting to
question this instinct.
The girls take their seats on the
colorful geometric patterns swimming with the recognizably meaningless shapes
recognized by meaningless recognition which recognizes neither of these things
nor the occurrence of these things. The collection of rather nameless girls sat
happily in the prophetic cabin, indifferent to its prophecies of business
casual, their own scheduled usherance, the callous cityscape, and a healthy
collection of metal poles. The poltergeist unleashes its usual haunting gasp as
it begins to ferry the damned who ride it towards another grey patch of the
seemingly endless hell that encircles them.
The initial jarring of the old train
sways its passengers softly, rocking them as if struck by a wave while sailing
the ocean of concrete and steel. Ophelia is swayed towards her friend, who grabs
her hand.
“Are you afraid of the metro?” asks
Ophelia
“Maybe.” Says Grace, playfully
“It’s ok. It’s only a shot ride.” Says
Ophelia
“Let’s keep that sort of thing to a
minimum in public.” Says Isabelle, noticing them
“It’s ok to be afraid sometimes.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m sure that’s what it is.” Says
Isabelle, sarcastically
“I couldn’t care less; I’m more
concerned about our destination. It’s kind of like visiting animal prison, and
I’m not good with even the best animals.” Says Stacy
“It will be a learning experience, you
can just make a little bit of progress and if we go enough you’ll be great with
animals in the end.” Says Jenna
“What is it about them that gets to
you?” asks Isabelle
“It’s the disproportion between their
mental capacity and physical capacity. Plenty of dogs have a few pounds on me
and they are not shy about throwing their weight around.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure we’re not going to throw you
in the kennel with the mastiffs. Find something easy and work your way up.”
Says Isabelle
“You like cats don’t you? You can just
pet the cats and play with them.” asks Ophelia
“I don’t know why but I am actually
considering sticking my hand into a furry ball of claws, fangs, and crazy.
Maybe they have like rabbits or something there. That would be right up my
alley.” Says Stacy
“I doubt the rabbits need much
attention, unfortunately.” Says Jenna
“It will be a trial by fire then, I’ll
try to keep myself in one piece.” Says Stacy
“It will be a trial by furry friends
and love.” Says Ophelia
“You shouldn’t have much to worry
about, most of the animals in the shelter are probably accustomed to people;
it’s just that the people couldn’t keep them anymore.” Says Isabelle
“People fear spiders for no reason; the
part about me having a good reason to fear these animals is what’s irking me.”
Says Stacy
“Just have faith. These are pets, not
bears or something. All they want is a little love and attention.” Says Ophelia
“We’re off at the next stop. Don’t
leave anything behind!” shouts Aurelia
“If it is a baptism by blood, so be
it.” Says Stacy
“That’s the spirit.” Says Ophelia
The crowd ambles through the station,
through the indistinct city streets the odd block to the shelter. A large
building with the aura of a penitentiary greets the eager girls, the nameplate
bearing the name “Bay City Southern Animal Shelter #2” engraved into the
plastic with a the callous civil font. The girls enter and are greeted by the
ominous smell of forcible hygenics. The dedicated human handler tending to the
gates welcomes the girls with the customary rights waiver which the girls happily
decorate with the black blood of the legal damnator.
“The Oak Wood Retirement Home has also
brought their animal alliance to help today. They’re playing with the kitties
right now, so your team is in charge of the dogs!” says the handler excitedly
The girls cheer excitedly. Stacy
grimaces.
“They mostly just need to be taken for walks;
I’m sure all of you know how to clean up after them so I don’t have much to
explain. There is a dog friendly park a few blocks from here; I’ll let Aurelia
show you the way. All that’s left to do is snag a leash and find yourself a
furry friend for the day!” continues the handler as he leads them back into the
kennels and Aurelia leads them to a collection of leashes and pet waste bags.
“Aurelia, I have never done this. Not
quite the dog person, so try to help me out.” Says Stacy as Aurelia hands her a
leash
“I can help you put the leash on,
that’s kind of hard; otherwise with the bag you just wrap it around your hand
like this and pick up what they leave on the ground.” Says Aurelia
“All righty. I take it you know the
dogs.” Says Stacy
“Most of them, I did a lot of
volunteering here over the summer.” Says Aurelia
“Try to get me one that’s good for a
beginner, right now all of the pictures of small children flying in the air
tied to a running dog have me worried. I don’t know how to control one or if
I’m even big enough to impose my will upon the dog, so I think trying to do that
sounds like a recipe for disaster.” Says Stacy
“Don’t worry, I’ll give you Roscoe.
He’s more likely to fall asleep than run away. He’s old, kind of small like
you, but he’s plenty lovable.” Says Aurelia
“Thanks.” Says Stacy
Aurelia introduces her to the basset
hound, welcoming the attention in a haggard yet indifferent manner, and shows
her how to leash the dog.
“That’s it. Just wait for everybody
else and it should be a walk in the park, literally.” Jokes Aurelia
“Ok…” says Stacy, who squats down and
pets the dogs head reluctantly
“For the love of god don’t be a talking
dog.” Whispers Stacy, the dog looks at her, disinterested before being
distracted by the commotion of the more excitable dogs who were very pleased to
see the leashes.
“You scared me for a second when you looked at
me.” Says Stacy, the dog doesn’t acknowledge her
The girls found themselves dogs, most
of which were the abandoned pit bulls of the impoverished who have been put in
kennels of their own, the dogs now loyal only to those who might emancipate them
for a brief moment. The other dogs were stray mutts whose homeless companions
have died or were also incarcerated.
“Do you know why Roscoe is here?” asks
Stacy, as she walks over to Aurelia with the dog
“I think his owner died of old age or
something. That’s probably why he’s not too big on exercise.” Says Aurelia
“Nobody wanted to adopt him though?”
asks Stacy
“People usually go for the puppies to
be honest. Some people tell me they are looking for a dog, not a lawn ornament,
if I introduce that poor fella.” Says Aurelia, with her pit bull happily on a
leash
“That’s kind of sad.” Says Stacy
“This is kind of a sad place, but
that’s why we’re here.” Says Aurelia
“Follow me, everybody!” Shouts Aurelia
“A lot of these dogs are kind of excitable, don’t be afraid to assert yourself,
they will still love you.”
The girls take the dogs out and down
the street, dogs playing with each other and relieving themselves without
modesty. The unintelligible clamor of the girls was complimented by the noises
of the dogs. Stacy kept towards the back out of fear for her own safety as well
as her dog’s, the slower rate of pace was perfectly acceptable to the dog.
The girls reach a pleasantly
unremarkable park that was fairly small but fielded plenty of field for the
girls and dogs both to run around. Stacy’s dog instinctively walks to a bench
with Stacy in tow and lies down beside it, yawning and enjoying the sunshine.
Stacy sits down and scratches the dogs
head.
“I like you. It’s easy for me to do
what you want me to do.” She says
Most of the club was enjoying their
attempts to keep pace with the energy of their companions that ran as fast as
they could without suffocating under pressure of the leash. Some of the older
hobo’s dogs were content with walking around leisurely. Ophelia’s gets on her
knees to pet and nuzzle her pit bull, which tackles her and starts to lick her.
This reminds Stacy that she could easily share a similar fate, the thoughts of
Mr. Dog and his hunger come rushing to her, but she suppresses them. She looks
at her dog.
Her friends come over to her.
“You don’t want to walk around?” asks
Isabelle, her dog jumping onto Stacy who lurches back in fear and discomfort.
“Down!” shouts Isabelle, pulling the
leash firmly. Her dog obeys.
“Jesus Christ.” Says Stacy, breathing
heavily
“It’s just a dog. You’ll get used to
it.” Teases Isabelle
“I don’t know. That is an animal. I
have a dog right here. This one is a dog.” Says Stacy, Isabelle looks at her
dog
“That guy looks about as enthusiastic
about being a dog as you are about being with dogs.” Jokes Isabelle
“That works for me. The whole dog’s
mouth in the vicinity of my neck induces an unholy amount of fear. Good god.”
Says Stacy, still shaken
“All he wants to do is lick you or something.
Maybe he wants you to pet him.” says Isabelle
“You probably should try to get your
dog to walk, even if he doesn’t want to. I think it would be good for the dog.”
Says Jenna, her dog tamed by contentedness with nothing
“I don’t want the other dogs to mess
with him though. We’re kind of like the no nonsense team right here.” Says
Stacy
“I’d never expect Stacy to be on the no
nonsense team, but my dog is pretty calm. We can walk them together. I don’t
think the pits will give your dog any rest if you bring him over there.” Says
Jenna
“That sounds like a good idea. I’m
going to go run around with mine for a while, he’s full of energy.” Says
Isabelle
“I’m not opposed to it, but I’m not
sure about Roscoe here.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure he will follow you, it’s what
dogs do.” Says Jenna
“I’ll give it a shot.” Says Stacy
standing up “Roscoe, let’s go.” She says, the dog continues to nap. Jenna’s dog
nuzzles Roscoe who reluctantly stands up out of a sense of obligation rather
than desire to do so and starts to follow the girls as they walk.
“You really don’t like dogs do you?”
asks Jenna
“I like this one. That’s a start.” Says
Stacy
“Your pretty enthusiastic and
energetic, I would think you and dogs would get along great. What is it about
them that bothers you?” asks Jenna
“Well, part of it is the whole blood
debt to a magical demon dog that has promised to eat me if I don’t
unquestioningly serve it. That doesn’t help. Even before that I wasn’t big on dogs.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t really think about it that
much. It is kind of easy to keep Mr. Dog happy.” Says Jenna, looking at her
ring which was still a warm creamy white
“When my newly accursed mind thinks
about pleasing him, it is rather soul crushing. Even when I disregard his
growing desire to eat me, the things he expects me to do are unsettling, to say
the least.” Says Stacy
“How do you know what he wants?” asks
Jenna
“Well, I escape my mind and turn into
this ghost that feels all of the suffering as if it were some kind of star
pulling me into its gravity and burning me with its radioactive emissions, then
I contemplate how I could resolve the source of the strife, run through the potential
solutions to the scenario, and at the point I can feel Mr. Dog’s potential
pleasure or displeasure with me based upon my potential actions.” Says Stacy
“What sort of things please him the
most?” asks Jenna
“Well, he is an animal, a simple
predator at heart. Rather than food, it seems he drinks blood spilled form
righteousness and consumes the souls of the wicked, and this brings him the
same joy as a piece of bacon would to a normal dog.” Says Stacy
“He seems to be happy when we just do
silly little things to help people though.” Says Jenna
“He is happy enough when you two do
those things. You two chose things that are unnatural, things absent in nature
like helpfulness and love. This is why he expects so little from you. I chose
what he equates to predatory tracking instincts like smelling blood, and he
expects me to capitalize upon this as he would in his glory days, when his
wrath was unfettered by the fortresses of concrete and copious weaponry that protects
those he would otherwise sink his fangs into.” Says Stacy
“That is kind of scary to be honest.”
Says Jenna
“It is incredibly scary. He only gave
me the knowledge I need to do what he wants me to, which basically means my
power is to abandon my own mind and become some kind of surrogate for his own
passions and instincts. When I play through these scenarios in my head, it’s
like I just become some kind of animal acting on instinct and that is in the
best case. If I try to use some sort of humanity to compliment the scenario
they tend to play out much worse.” Says Stacy
“So you’re kind of just like some
puppet for the dog?” asks Jenna
“Basically…” says Stacy “I kind of have
to come to terms with the dog being a part of my mind; it was his instincts
that took over and saved us last time.” Says Stacy
“I have blacked that out of my mind
pretty hard, it’s kind of like I’m a completely different person when I’m in
the costume. I don’t want to be that person, so my mind just separates the two
of us as completely different people. I am me, and the witch is the witch.”
Says Jenna
“That’s probably a good thing; I feel
the same way really. That one day the adrenaline kicked in and I wasn’t a
person anymore, I was just an animal.” Says Stacy
“It did kind of save our lives, so it’s
not all bad.” Says Jenna
“The fear of that looming death of
being eaten kind of causes my mind to race if I let it, like good deeds are my
prey and I’m hunting them down as some kind of hungry ghost running through the
streets drawn to the scent of blood. The hard part is coming to terms with the
fact that I will have to turn these thoughts into actions if I want to stay alive.”
Says Stacy
“At least they are good deeds, right?”
asks Jenna
“A wolf has a different sense of good
than a person does.” Says Stacy
“That’s probably true.” Says Jenna
“Let’s change the subject. I don’t want
to dwell on this topic any longer than I have to; it kind of corrupts my mind.
When I think about the animal things, they tend to want to take over.” Says
Stacy
“You really have your work cut out for
you.” Says Jenna
“The wolf knows I didn’t bite off more
than I can chew, he knows I bit off exactly as much as I can chew, which is
scary because he certainly expects me to chew it and eat it.” Says Stacy
“If it’s just good deeds, shouldn’t it
taste pretty good?” asks Jenna
“Jenna, it is the type of bite that a
wolf that eats bad people would take. It overwhelms my heart with fear, but Mr.
Dog is always over my shoulder and he thinks it tastes delicious. I know what
the taste is, and I know I’m supposed to like it, the animal instinct of Mr.
Dog likes it, but it’s hard for the human part of me to accept that I should
revel in this taste.” Says Stacy
“He doesn’t want you to eat the people,
does he?” asks Jenna
“No, it’s like the human flesh part is
just some kind of salt, some luxury, where the real nutrition to him is the
potential evil that seeps out of people who are no longer able to carry on with
their vices.” Says Stacy
“So he expects you to feed him?” asks
Jenna
“I think it’s like a wolf pack
mentality, we are in the same pack and we hunt together, he eats the evil and I
eat my being alive. At least that’s how my fantasies of being alive for any
prolonged period of time tend to play out.” Says Stacy
“At least you have been thinking about
what you are supposed to be doing.” Says Jenna
“It’s not hard to do when you know you
will die if you don’t.” says Stacy
“You say you are thinking about what
you should do, that kind of scares me considering how your last plan going
south really quickly and everything.” Says Jenna
“Yeah…” says Stacy “It’s hard to remain
conscious of anything and everything that could go wrong, but since then I do
put a lot of effort into trying to think about things that could go wrong, even
if they do seem unlikely.” Says Stacy
“That must be hard.” Says Jenna
“It’s not so bad, I can kind of
separate the, adventures, let’s call them, into chaotic and simple ones. I try
to focus on the simple ones.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. You really didn’t notice
that the guy had a gun or anything last time?” asks Jenna
“His mind was firmly against the notion
of murdering somebody in the place he works at. Something flipped a switch in there;
I don’t know what caused the other one to lose his mind like that either.” Says
Stacy
“I thought you kind of knew
everything.” Says Jenna
“I can only know things that are
relevant to my task at hand which was phrased in the present tense, so the past
is trivial, at least to the dog. He tends to live in the present and I really
only have the ability to know what he does.” Says Stacy
“That’s unsettling.” Says Jenna
“It’s true, but I’ve got to work with
what I’ve got.” Says Stacy
“When you were talking about the wolf
pack, are Ophelia and I part of that wolf pack?” asks Jenna
“Unfortunately, my plans seem to work
out a lot better if you two are with me. You’re not really wolves like me;
you’re kind of like good luck fairies that help me. Every time I’m going
through a situation and I think about what would happen if something goes wrong
or the plan gets garbled, often times you two are the ones that save me.” Says
Stacy
“I really do want to help you, but I am
as scared as you are about this whole thing. As much as I don’t want to think
about what you are telling me, I would feel terrible if I abandoned you at a
time like this.” Says Jenna
“Thanks. I don’t really want to think
about it either, but it’s comforting to hear that you’re there for me. Wolves
hunt in packs for a reason.” Says Stacy
“Even though you said we’re not
wolves?” asks Jenna
“You and Ophelia are the closest thing
to a wolf pack I have though, I’m grateful to have somebody to beside me, be it
wolf or fairy.” Says Stacy
“I kind of like the fairy aspect. You
make it sound kind of cute.” Says Jenna
“It’s not cute at all, sadly.” Says
Stacy
“Not at all?” asks Jenna
“When I play through my fate in my
mind, there are very few paths I can take and survive, and none of pretty
sight. If you had any faith, I’d tell you that the dog wants me to be the hand
of God’s vengeance or something. Smiting the wicked and casting them into the
depths of hell. That’s literally what I have to do to please the dog.” Says
Stacy
“There’s no other way?” asks Jenna
“I could try to get by becoming a full
time psychic, but that involves 80 hour work weeks and all it takes is one bad
week where I don’t help enough people and I’m eaten. The worst part is somebody
usually comes to kill me before the dog, people don’t like that sort of mystic
bullshit.” Says Stacy
“This is kind of hard for me to think
about. I don’t want you to live either of those lives.” Says Jenna
“I don’t either, but I also don’t want
to die. Man’s hand is often forced between picking the lesser of two evils when
his life is on the line. It’s sink or swim, and by God I’m going to try and
swim.” Says Stacy
“What is it you plan on doing exactly?”
Says Jenna
“I’ve got a few plans based upon things
being premeditated within a small radius from where we live. The truth is I am
simply looking at the low-hanging fruit at this point, and comparing the size
of the fruit to its ease of access.” Says Stacy
“That sounds nice, just going to pick
some fruit.” Says Jenna, soft, distant, incredulous
“It’s not exactly fruit.” Says Stacy
“Let’s not think about that.” Says
Jenna
“You may have to find some faith and
become a zealot, I’ve been able to come to grips with this because of how
vividly Mr. Dog can sense evil and suffering. It really helps me justify
myself.” Says Stacy
“You don’t need to justify yourself
when you’re doing good things.” Says Jenna
“I hope you will always feel that way.”
Says Stacy, off-handedly dubious
“That was terribly ominous. Damn it,
Stacy.” Says Jenna, shaken, frightened
“Let’s go with godly, it sounds
better.” Says Stacy
“You don’t have any faith in God, do
you?” asks Jenna
“No, but I can find some when it is
personally beneficial to my sanity.” Says Stacy
“Does that really help?” asks Jenna
“It’s a convenient way to justify what
I perceive to be my future, if I continue to live that is.” Says Stacy,
“I’ll have to try that. If I’m going to
be a good luck fairy to someone who sees themselves as the hand of God’s
vengeance, I will probably need to.” Says Jenna
“Keep the faith.” Says Stacy, smiling
grimly
“I’ve been dismissing this stuff as if
it were nonsense, just some silly dream that I don’t want to have but keep
having anyways. Like I’m in denial or something, it’s comforting thinking of it
like that, but your seriousness about it is getting under my skin.” Says Jenna
“Denial is the first stage of grieving,
is it not?” asks Stacy
“It is. I like to think I’m happy, but
you telling me that has my head spinning. I don’t want to be grieving.” Says
Jenna
“We are grieving the loss of our
freedom, our futures, and our lives. We have a plenty of reason to grieve.”
Says Stacy
“Even when I think about that, I just
figure that all I have to do is some silly helpful deeds in my costume and I’ll
be fine. I can easily convince myself of that, but the problem is you don’t
seem to see it that way.” Says Jenna
“I can’t. When I think about my future
I am faced with the two outcomes of being eaten alive or becoming a servant of
this sick faith, there are no alternatives.” Says Stacy
“The faith of you becoming the hand of
god’s vengeance so you say.” Says Jenna
“You can substitute in Mr. Dog instead
of God if you want, it’s more accurate, but yes, just a simple zealot bound by
blood debt to this talking dog.” Says Stacy
“You keep saying blood debt, what do
you mean exactly?” asks Jenna
“It’s blood debt. I owe Mr. Dog blood,
be it my own or the blood of the wicked. That is the only thing that really
satisfies him, it kind of makes sense that predators would instinctively want
that more than anything.” Says Stacy
“So you have just accepted this?” asks
Jenna
“There is nothing I can do. I think
about me dying and the pain it causes for everybody I know for the rest of
their lives. The other choice is to quench the thirst of the dog and that is
what I intend on doing. These people Mr. Dog wishes to reap do nothing but
spread the plague of suffering upon their community. I can justify my life,
even if it takes such a form, when it is impossible to argue that his prey has
any measurable justification of being alive. Even if I die attempting to do
this, I will die if I refrain from doing so as well, so I hope you can
understand my choice at that point.” Says Stacy
“I understand completely, but part of
me just wants to keep doing that silly stuff at the park forever. I am scared
for you, I don’t want you to die, but I think there is another way other than
becoming a bloodthirsty zealot.” Says Jenna
“There is another way. The other way is
I just commit suicide via Mr. Dog. That’s it. I think about it a lot. It’s
pretty fucking tempting, don’t get me wrong. If it were just me I would do it
in a heartbeat, if I were alone I would just say fuck all of this, I’m done.
It’s you, Ophelia, my sister, my dad, now Isabelle, and even Grace, I think of
all of the good times we didn’t get to have because I chose to fucking off
myself. I think about how you and Ophelia cry all the time because I’m fucking
dead. That is what hurts me the most, more than the thought of me dying, and
far more than the thought that I killed some poor bastard in a Chinese
restaurant and put another one in the hospital. Those pieces of shit deserved
what happened to them, none of you deserve the misery that I could inflict upon
you if I took the easy way out.” Says Stacy, tearing up in painful anger
“Damn it Stacy. Can’t you just help us,
like find me and Ophelia people to help or something?” says Jenna
“When I do that, you become a renowned
faith healer, you can do amazing things and people love you, but people aren’t
immortal and you can’t save everybody. People start to see you as a god, and
think that you simply choose who lives and dies. When that happens it is a
guarantee that somebody comes along and puts you six feet in the ground because
people don’t like that sort of thing at all, especially not when the person
doing that is dressed up like a god damn witch. In that scenario, when you die,
I die too, in the best case my help keeps the dog happy enough to where I can
surf the brink of death, but the second you are gone I am hopeless. Playing
matchmaker with Ophelia doesn’t really benefit me in the eyes of Mr. Dog.
Drawing upon his words, you are armed with something like a tablespoon, and
Ophelia has an infant spoon, and I have the god damn shovel. He expects us to
dig, and expects a proportional amount of progress.” Says Stacy
“That really crushes that dream. I am
glad that I have enough sense to see how quickly I would become a target. I
would feel upset if the alleged god didn’t or couldn’t help the people I wanted
her to help. That kind of scares me though, do you think I’m that powerful?”
asks Jenna
“You have an extraordinary amount of
potential, it takes time, but at least in my most peaceful fantasies you learn
to master it. It is really a nice thought, but it’s just a fantasy where you
can actually help the world before you are murdered.” Says Stacy
“And you’re sure Ophelia can’t make the
world love or something and we’re all happy forever?” asks Jenna
“You have mental clarity, intelligence,
and focus. That is why you do so well. She tends to swing her love scepter
around wildly and it doesn’t amount to much. It would take a miracle for her to
gain the presence of mind to be able to master what she can do. If we can’t
teach her simple things, I don’t expect to be able to instill the meditative
discipline and surgical precision it takes to warp minds, most of the time when
I think about trying to do so it just backfires and she becomes worse at it.
I’m just glad that she isn’t expected to accomplish much.” Says Stacy
“That is almost comical, but at least
she believes in herself. That’s more than what I’ve got right now.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure you will rise to the occasion
when you are called to do so. You always have.” Says Stacy
“This is different, this is crazy. This
isn’t just being asked to acquire knowledge and utilize the acquired skillset
to get the expected results in the peaceful environment of a classroom.” Says
Jenna
“You’re right. It is exactly that,
minus the peaceful environment of the classroom. I expect you to acquire
knowledge and utilize the acquired skillset to get the expected results; the
only thing that is different is that the environment is changed to the urban
wilderness.” Says Stacy
“That is still the difference between
learning a dance on paper and actually executing the dance. You know I’ve never
been much of a dancer.” Says Jenna
“Believe in yourself. Your body is
perfectly capable and your mind is apt enough to instruct it. I wouldn’t be worried.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t even know how to use my magic
very much at all. How can I know what to do?” asks Jenna
“In my prophetic experience, if what
you are expected to do is helpful, you kind of have the natural instinct to do
it. At least to a certain extent, as you tend to be held back by your
inhibition, modesty, and politeness.” Says Stacy
“That sounds like me. Do those things
really hold me back?” asks Jenna
“Well, in the odd scenario where your
doing of something immodest and impolite without inhibition would help in some
way, you are often reluctant to do so.” Says Stacy
“Obviously. What else would you
expect?” asks Jenna
“Just work on it, ok?” asks Stacy
“I’m not going to work on being
immodest and impolite without inhibition.” Says Jenna
“It might save your life or mine one
day.” Says Stacy
“Let’s cross that bridge when we get
there.” Says Jenna
“That sounds like eagerness. I’m
holding you to that.” Jokes Stacy, smiling weakly
“Just try not to put me in that
situation.” Says Jenna, disapprovingly
“I’ll try.” Says Stacy
“Thanks. Talking about all of this is
kind of stressing me out. It’s like trying to ignore a looming deadline or
something, it just wreaks havoc in the back of your mind if you try.” Says
Jenna
“I’m pretty good at that though.” Says
Stacy
“I’m not. If you think I get worked up
over school, that’s nothing compared to this. Replace the shame of failure with
the terror of dying in whichever awful way happens to be my fate.” Says Jenna
“Well, how about we just don’t die?
That’s what I like to think. If you think you are going to die, you put a lot
less effort into trying to live.” Says Stacy
“You are that confident in yourself?
For no apparent reason?” asks Jenna
“My sister told me optimism is the
deadliest weapon a soldier can carry. I like to think of it that way. It’s hard
for a defeatist to win a fight.” Says Stacy
“I think she meant it more like a
double edged sword, it kills both the enemy and the soldier himself.” Says
Jenna
“Well, it’s better than nothing. It all
comes down to swordsmanship at that point; we’ve just got to prevent our
opponents from overpowering our strikes and forcing our own blade back into
us.” Says Stacy
“So we stay optimistic, but we don’t
get too cocky. I am a little concerned with your ability regarding the second
part of that.” Says Jenna
“I’ll admit I’m a little cocky, but I’m
not too cocky.” Says Stacy
“It’s pretty easy for someone who is
slightly on fire to transition into being extremely on fire.” Says Jenna
“It’s a controlled burn, don’t worry.”
Says Stacy
“I’ll just take a stiff drink of that
optimism and put my faith in you.” Says Jenna, reluctantly hopeful against her
better judgement
“That’s the spirit, even if a man is
facing 100 threats to his life and there is only one extremely improbable way that
he survives, he does everything in his power to make sure that one thing comes
true.” Says Stacy
“You just ignore the probability in
that scenario?” asks Jenna
“People buy lottery tickets every day
thinking that they’ll win. They only stop thinking that when they know they’ve
lost. In our case, if we lose we’ll be dead, so there’s no reason to believe we
won't win because we won’t have to live with the consequences. The great thing
about all of this is that there actually is
a chance that the gambler wins the lottery considering we haven’t lost yet.”
Says Stacy
“Maybe we should think of a better
mentality than the one that defines people addicted to gambling.” Says Jenna
“We’ve already bought our tickets with
our lives as collateral. We cannot pretend to be something we are not.” Says
Stacy
“We kind of got tricked though.” Says
Jenna
“Even if a man realizes he has been
swindled, the victim of the swindler has still been swindled.” Says Stacy
“What is the jackpot on the ticket
anyways?” asks Jenna
“Well, the top prize is to break even.
We gambled with our lives and if we win we get to keep them.” Says Stacy
“You think we can just win and be done
or something?” asks Jenna
“Well, no, not to my knowledge. We just
have to keep playing the game every time we win. That’s why the only healthy
mentality is that of a compulsive gambler. If you have no choice but to gamble,
the only mentality that brings you any peace with that is the belief that you
will win. That mentality keeps the addict going until he is dead, so if the
shoe fits, wear it.” Says Stacy
“The life of a compulsive gambler is a
pretty sad existence.” Says Jenna
“That’s why we listen to the sage
advice of the industry, and we don’t gamble for the winnings, we gamble to
enjoy ourselves, for the fun of the game.” Says Stacy
“How are you going to enjoy this at
all?” asks Jenna
“I don’t know. I like living, so I
figure I can just swallow the bitter pills I have to and then enjoy the
enjoyable parts.” Says Stacy
“That makes sense. Kind of like how a
soldier will risk his life in the hopes that peacetime will be the result of
his actions.” Says Jenna
“At least we are both coming to terms
with a proper mentality towards all of this. I worried that you might run away
or something.” Says Stacy
“I can understand a lot of your logic though;
I don’t know how Ophelia will feel about your sentiments.” Says Jenna
“I’m not worried, she is a simple girl.
The reasons motor vehicle traffic flows so smoothly is because it is explained
in simple terms, color coded lights and pictographic signs that people follow
absent mindedly. They know they will die if they don’t, but the process is so
simple that the thought doesn’t worry them. It is amazing really.” Says Stacy
“So what are you going to say to her?”
asks Jenna
“Probably not much if anything, she
already knows what she needs to. Witches and the Love Cat are always right and
good, and the ring tells you when you do good or need to do more good. That
should be enough really. She tends to be pretty gung-ho about the doing good
part of it.” Says Stacy
“She was pretty upset the last time,
practically hysterical.” Says Jenna
“A good soldier’s mind quickly becomes
accustomed to witnessing the atrocities of war; never do these things shake the
notion from his mind that he is undeniably in the right.” Says Stacy
“You think she is as loyal to you as a
soldier is to his country?” asks Jenna
“More so to the mission of doing good,
so as long as we can keep her convinced that we are the good guys, her loyalty
will be unquestionable. Thankfully we have the rings to remind her if she ever
doubts us.” Says Stacy
“I’m more worried about you than me,
what am I going to do, help somebody to death?” asks Jenna
“You never know. I’m kind of surprised
you are willing to talk about this calmly, as if I didn’t sound like a lunatic.”
Says Stacy
“It’s just rational thinking. Stoicism
can be painful, but it’s nowhere near as painful as letting your emotions,
opinions, and ideals cause errors in judgement. You either live with the pain
of being correct or you live with the pain of being incorrect.” Says Jenna
“Where’d you pick up on that, anyways?”
asks Stacy
“Watching Ophelia all of this time
really reinforced my determination not to fall victim to the same shortcomings
that define her.” Says Jenna
“I just give myself the benefit of the
doubt and figure I won’t. You took it to an entirely different level.” Says
Stacy
“I guess I’m not the fountain of
confidence that you are. It always haunted me that while I may not know it,
there may be something out there that I greet with the same level of ignorance
as Ophelia and thus am damned to the same fate she may well face one day.” Says
Jenna
“If curiosity killed the cat,
confidence may well kill the dog. I can accept that. It feels a lot better than
not being confident. You may still share our fate though, regardless of your
preparedness.” Says Stacy
“Do tell me what it is that you think
could kill me, just so I can be vigilant against it.” Says Jenna
“Knowledge kills the knowing, power
kills the powerful, and knowledge is power. You’ve got a lethal cocktail of
death flowing through your veins right now.” Says Stacy
“As true as that is, I would much
rather die on account of knowledge than ignorance, if we’re picking our
poisons. At that rate, who isn’t going to die from something like that?” asks
Jenna
“The meek shall inherit the earth.”
Says Stacy
“Sadly it seems we’ve lost the
opportunity to be meek.” Says Jenna
“That seems to be the case. I’ve never
been too interested in inheriting this place anyways.” Says Stacy
“The blind child doesn’t tend to
inherit the car. It makes sense that the human wraiths of death cursed by
knowledge and power would fall victim to their own namesake. Natural life is
neither knowledgeable nor powerful and it has inherited the earth for millions of
years, man has only had knowledge and its power for millennia and is already on
the brink of destroying the planet.” Says Jenna
“Junkies shoot heroin because it feels
good, they don’t give a damn about anything else. Every beastie is a junkie
whether or not his bone is natural or manmade. Blood, dirt, water, and sunshine
sated the fiending of the progenitors; it’s a shame that their brood eventually
spawned the cancer that ushered damnation unto this Eden.” Says Stacy
“Mankind is almost a hilarious
oxymoron.” Says Jenna
“Well, it’s kind in a sense. Death was
so pure and natural since the dawn of life, which was peachy as life and death
were both wrought from the same dirt, but as life becomes more lively, so does
death become more deathly. It is only by sapient hands that life has become
unnatural, and thus death in turn becomes unnatural. It is God’s wrath, to
ensure the torture of nature, for her failure to eliminate such a disease as
mankind would bring about her death. Anything else would be unnatural, for all
things that grow so extraordinarily ill are greeted with an extraordinarily
torturous death, thus for our mother to smother human blight with such love, in
turn the blight will love itself accordingly and be proud of its blighting, the
nurture of nature I suppose.” Says Stacy
“Perhaps the planet saw such
indifference as appropriate. Since man chose to eat from the tree of sapience
and cognizance and thus shun its mother’s holy instinct, to kill him would not
allow him to suffer for his betrayal. Allowing him to live forces him to
cognize his treachery and his remaining instinct forces him to prolong his
suffering as long as his unwitting masochism allows him to. Beyond that, once
he dies, the souls of the massacred innocent beings that spawned from the same
womb he did shall ensure the profound severity of his damnation.” Says Jenna
“An army of such wretched beasts will
be welcome in the wickedest of hells, for undoubtedly they would work
tirelessly to improve the hellishness, each exacerbating the torture of the
other in exchange for false promises of comfort, pleasure, or happiness.” Says
Stacy
“Are we any less damnable then those
who have come before us?” asks Jenna
“The lowly are but appendages of those
who enslave them, those without free will cannot be held accountable for their
actions. While we may have some illusory freedom, and this may yet damn us, we
still have no power to usurp the slavers. The cult of society is like a prion
disease, even if we were somehow able to miraculously revert to a pure state,
their hand would forcibly override our minds and we once again take the same
shape as the damning prion.” Says Stacy
“It will be a joy to reside in the
comfortable hell, watching the ever damnable writhe thrice for every wail I
wail. Is a thatch hut not as heavenly as heaven can be if man never knew any
greater comfort? The choice between such comfortable living or being wet,
forgotten and rotting in the wilds is a simple choice for me to make.” Says
Jenna
“From there we can embark on the same
adventure as early man, choosing technological evolution instead of natural
evolution, for if we are already in hell, shall we not flourish by and revel in
our own damnability?” asks Stacy
“Until we are twice damned, and we
laugh all the while, for undoubtedly those more so attuned to such vice shall
be the propagators of the next unnatural hell, and once more we find ourselves
cast out of hell and into the hell of hells, yet we once again have ourselves a
thatch hut while the wicked writhe naked in the wilds.” Says Jenna
“And again and again, we ride the ride,
forever more. For we are meek and comfortable in our huts, it is and always
will be those ungrateful for their fate that wish to change it and are damned
time and time again for their indignation.” Says Stacy
“Do you ever wonder how many hells we
have fallen through before arriving in this one?” asks Jenna
“I could care less, for each time we
arrive it seems to be paradise, for we have no recollection of anything better,
and it could always be worse.” Says Stacy
“God is merciful, allowing us to forget
such things.” Says Jenna
“If he gave us this knowledge, there is
a chance we may be able to change our fate. This way we can both further enjoy
the cascade of our own damnation, considering there is no chance that we may
escape it.” Says Stacy
“We have faith in hell, but no faith in
god. Ironic, isn’t it?” asks Jenna
“Well, we have plenty of proof of the
hell that surrounds us. I have faith in god, like I have faith in a small
mentally retarded child. He is certainly there, but incapable of accomplishing
anything meaningful. The spookster is just some poor bastard that was wrought
unto existence by some happenstantial irresponsibility and is thus neglected
accordingly, making meaningless noises that are interpreted by those well
versed in such meaninglessness who delude themselves by giving meaning to such
cries of mental retardation out of their instinct to find meaning out of their
fear of their own meaninglessness.
I think the omniscience is a hearty laugh,
knowledge is pure, the truth is unchanging, and facts are facts. The cognizance
is what is corrupt in that scenario. Those three are a mindless trifecta of
perfection that extends without limits, if something actually knew all of it,
there would be no energy, for it would take a comparable amount of energy to
acknowledge all of the energy, let alone the infinite amount of meaningless
knowable things, permutate infinity in infinite directions and dimensions, as
surely all of this is knowable in theory, for we start at 0 and approach
infinity and never run out of countable truths.
While it is largely meaningless, omniscience
would still be required to know such things to truly be omniscient. That
argument is a simple one that can be derived using such primitive tools as a
fatty cancer inside the bony carapace of an animal, and undoubtedly within that
permutation lays even more proofs that render such a cognizance impossible.
Even if a mind could understand any part of that, it would understand its own
meaninglessness and triviality instantaneously. So I draw the conclusion that
god is just a ghost who slipped through some spacey fabric into this quiet
corner of numbery bits and pieces stuck together in a coincidentally relatively
self-sustaining form. The reaper of souls is the knowledge itself, for it has
known all things past, present, and future since the spawn of countability when
existence was shaken from a 0 bit system to a 1 bit system, and implicated all
of the repercussions of countability.” Says Stacy
“Spooked the poor bastards pretty good
though.” says Jenna
“It wasn’t the spookster, people tell
their children about Santa Claus because it benefits them personally by causing
the children to believe in a false notion that causes them to behave. Somebody
heard a whisper of a ghost and figured they could use that to scare people into
docility. It works for children as well as it works for savages. Nowadays with
the relative omnipotence of government, the necessity of instilling faith in
god has diminished, so it is neglected.” Says Stacy
“It still helps plenty of people. It
resolves so many questions they have without needing to provide any proof. The
people looking for answers they will never find are the ones who grow sour and
weary while the people who think they know the answer put little if any energy
into the matter and are happy that the questions are resolved.” Says Jenna
“Why worry about something, when you
don’t have to? It is a prime case where curiosity does indeed kill the cat.”
Says Stacy
“Existentialist suicide, the junkie
turns his house upside-down looking for a sprinkling of drugs that he thinks he
knows is there, but in reality there is none, and he is accomplishing nothing
besides refusing to accept the truth because he does not want it to be true.”
Says Jenna
“There is some merit to the endeavor of
the junkie, for there is actually a small chance that there may be something
hiding in the shadows.” Says Stacy
“You don’t have any similar faith in the
existentialist?” says Jenna
“Well, I’ve got plenty of proof of the
reality of drugs, but none for the reality of meaning. Meaning is by default a
concept that is created by one’s own mind and verified by nothing other than
perhaps the occasional meaningless coincidence, so it is nothing more than a
fantasy. Meaning is no more real than unicorns, dragons, or other such fancy.”
Says Stacy
“The whole witch nonsense doesn’t shift
your disposition on the unicorns and such?” asks Jenna
“Absolutely not, I have proof of the
witch nonsense, but none for unicorns. Sadly, I would much rather have proof of
the unicorns.” Says Stacy
“Yet you still have faith in god
regardless of the lack of proof?” says Jenna
“I’m just analyzing him from the
context of a canonical character in a story. Flawed as mankind himself, but I
suppose that is fitting.” Says Stacy
“I’m still kind of confused as to why
you would believe in the existence of god, but equate him to a mentally
retarded child. It’s kind of silly when I think about it.” Says Jenna
“Well, mentally retarded in the context
of supposedly all-knowing divine entities. Regardless of his omnipotence and
his apparent desire to instill goodness in people, he fails miserably. His
decision to attempt to raise a savage into godliness also seems foolish, seeing
how he would know his efforts would largely be in vain. Even after smiting man
time and time again for his misdeeds, man always returns to his vices, but I
suppose the compassion for the wicked and aiding and abetting of the damnable
could be his own vices. Man was created in god’s image, and thus he tries to
shed the shame of seeing a reflection of himself in such abominable monster and
tries to redeem his own shortcomings by attempting to live out his dreams of
purity, wisdom, and salvation through his children.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think every aspect of
reality was created by god?” asks Jenna
“Absolutely not, that poor bastard only
has humanity to his name. Megalomaniacal, unnaturally intelligent,
shortsighted, prone to rage, unforgiving; it’s not hard to see how mankind was
created in his image. The other gods each played a hand shaping this reality in
their own image, and Abrahamic god was capable of nothing but warping the
simple and innocent mind of an animal into the spitting image of his own
inadequacy. Nature is nothing like god, it is only people who are like god. Man
can only create unnatural things, and so it is common sense that god as the
father of such a beast is damned to the same fate, the only thing he was
capable of creating was the unnatural sapient and filling him with the same
logical failures of shortsighted reckless ambition that caused his divine hand
to infect this Eden with such a disease. Even in the bible he clearly explains
that he is not the only god, he says that he is the only god the Jews should
worship.” Says Stacy
“I love the irony that a god that is
alleged to be the only existing god clearly explains in his scriptures that
there are other gods.” Says Jenna
“He is ravaged by his humanity; just
like how he attempts to discredit the other gods, people also tend to believe
that their enemies are not humans, but savage inhuman animals. This double
standard is almost tasteful, god’s wrath is not vice, nor his envy of other
gods and their cultists, nor his greed to reap all the souls of humans, nor his
pride to deem himself the only true god, nor his lust that created such a
wicked child, nor is his sloth in his disregarding of his responsibility to
successfully instill his own principles unto his children.” Says Stacy
“What about gluttony?” asks Jenna
“I suppose when people think of
paradise, they don’t think of sustaining themselves with the most humble
minimum to survive. They think of a place where all of their earthly desires
are easily satiated, I wouldn’t think god would have any different
interpretation of paradise.” Says Stacy
“You don’t fear for your soul after
speaking such things?” asks Jenna
“If god could actually reap the souls
as he says he can, he would not be calling for the damnation of necromancers
and mediums as if they were an actual threat, for they could not summon the
dead if his grip on the souls was even the slightest bit firm. I feel that God
is more like the man picking up garbage on the streets; he reaps the souls of
humans because no other god wants them and has no competition. No sensible god
would want to be in the company of such a disgrace.” Says Stacy
“It amazing that this is your opinion
about god, yet you are dead set on risking your life as some sort of zealot.”
Says Jenna
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the
tree. I can’t say I’m not afflicted by each and every one of those vices. I’d
just rather fancy myself as a saint instead of a sinner.” Says Stacy
“Blessed is he who walks in the way of
the lord.” Says Jenna
“Amen.” Says Stacy, as the two continue
walking their dogs around the outskirts of the park, watching the other girls
playing innocently with their lively companions
“Stacy, Jenna! It’s time to go!” shouts
Isabelle from across the park
“Coming!” shouts Jenna, as the two walk
towards the group.
“I feel kind of bad forcing old Roscoe
here to walk so much.” Says Stacy
“He’ll sleep well tonight.” Says Jenna
“I’m surprised he didn’t collapse on
me.” Jokes Stacy
“I’m sure he would rather walk than be
dragged along the ground.” Says Jenna
“Sometimes our hands are forced and the
most preferable choice is simply to obey our master’s wishes.” Says Stacy
“It’s quaint even a dog can understand
that.” Says Jenna
“Mental conditioning serves the purpose
of rationale in those who lack it.” Says Stacy
“It seems to serve the vast majority of
the population fairly well.” Says Jenna
“Clearly it’s the wise choice when
their rationale has accomplished nothing and their livelihood is dependent on
their unquestioning mental conditioning of subservience.” Says Stacy
“It is wise not to bite the hand that
feeds you, and wiser still to choose pleasing your master for a treat over
displeasing him for a beating.” Says Jenna
“Sadly people think that they can get
the treats and displease their masters at the same time; it is simply not
possible.” Says Stacy
“Dreams of a better tomorrow are but
dreams, and many times these stray quite far from the realism to which waking
man is bound.” Says Jenna
“You’re the best company, you tend to
support my musings rather than instinctively strike them down. My sister
usually has no interest in such comradery.” Says Stacy
“Well somebody has to keep you chained
to the earth and contained so you don’t disperse uniformly into the atmosphere.
You’re nothing but airs you know.” Teases Jenna
“Yet you’re willing to put up with it
despite your intelligence.” Says Stacy
“It’s more fun that way. The feeling of
being wise and intelligent is better than being critical, even if we’re just
pretending to be wise and intelligent; it’s still a positive feeling.” Says
Jenna
“The wise man enjoys the company of a
fool, for he understands it would be shameless to neglect to enjoy something
enjoyable when doing so brings him no harm.” Says Stacy
“Some men would rather maintain their
pride than enjoy their lives. Tis a shame.” Says Jenna
“Vices tend to sway man towards
irrational thinking.” Says Stacy
“That might explain a few of the things
you like to talk about.” Says Jenna
“I’ll be the first to tell you I am not
free from sin. I am not tempted by such masochism.” Says Stacy, as the other
girls greet them at the entrance to the park
“Wow, theological discussion. I can’t
say I expected any less from you two.” Says Isabelle, overhearing Stacy, as
they absentmindedly start following their herd
“It is the easiest kind to have; to
speak of god is to do nothing other than to rant with impunity, for there is no
way to discredit a sentiment in a field that is entirely baseless.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure plenty of people would
disagree with that.” Says Jenna
“But they have no grounds to prove
their argument, so my point remains valid.” Says Stacy
“In such an argument it all comes down
to faith. The one who believes in their point more is the winner.” Says
Isabelle
“It would be hard for me to lose at
that rate; I would like to find a man whose faith in god can go toe to toe with
my god complex.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure he would start to throw holy
water on you and call you a heretic or something. I doubt he would give in to
your arguments.” Says Grace
“I wouldn’t give into such exorcism
either. So I have lost no ground in his rebuke.” Says Stacy
“He would probably win when God agrees
with him though.” Says Ophelia
“Even that would not cause my ego to
falter. Men slay each other every day over religious differences. To each
combatant, their god has agreed with them and disagreed with their enemy. I
would say I am no different, even if I am only putting faith in myself.” Says
Stacy
“So a catalyst for pointless violence
spurred by something that could easily be defined as insanity.” Says Isabelle
“If everything is equally pointless,
the violence is easily as meaningful as anything else a human finds significant
like love, health, money, children, or anything else. It’s not uncommon to hear
people throw faith in that basket, so why should I not season the stew to
taste?” Says Stacy
“Faith is important; it saves people’s
lives and helps them be good people. I don’t think you should really be arguing
with it.” Says Ophelia
“Well, undoubtedly each and every faith
across the world helps save people’s lives and helps them be good people. Logic
would imply that any faith will do, and I choose the one I enjoy the most,
which is faith in myself.” Says Stacy
“Well, the faiths around the world are
all laden with ancient wisdom that has been passed down for millennia. There
were countless faiths that existed and ceased to exist because their wisdom was
inadequate and failed to induce the proper mentality needed for continuous
success.” Says Jenna
“That failure can be attributed to
anything and everything from war, famine, disease, or social failures. To lay
it entirely on faith is as blind and foolish as the faiths themselves. I feel
if I am going to be foolish enough to have faith, I should have faith in something
equally foolish as the concept of having faith in the first place.” Says Stacy
“That’s a bit like eating a bread
sandwich, there’s no real substance.” Says Grace
“It’s nutritive enough to sustain me
for the time being, perhaps in due time I will have some epiphany that induces
miraculous faith. Until then I shall savor my foolish bread sandwich.” Says
Stacy
“I would argue that plenty of faiths
don’t taste too pleasant, they seem to be highly critical of mankind. Stacy
could be making a good choice by reveling in herself rather than fearing some
ghost that hides in the sky.” Says Isabelle
“There is no reason to fear god, he
only punishes evil people. He loves the good people.” Says Ophelia
“If he loves the good people, then I’ll
be happy being loved twice: by myself as well as god.” Says Stacy
“I think he will only love you if you
have faith in him.” Says Jenna
“Would a loving god cast the blind and
deaf unto damnation simply because they could not understand his message?” asks
Stacy
“Of course not, he loves everybody.”
Says Ophelia
“My point exactly. My eyes are blinded
by delusion and my ears are full of ego, I have not the capacity to embrace the
message of god, so I doubt he would expect me to do so.” Says Stacy
“You’re really going to equate your
personality to being deaf and blind?” asks Isabelle
“They are quite similar; for no light
of reality is strong enough to pierce the clouds of delusion in my eyes, and no
sound strong enough to reverberate through the ego in my ears.” Says Stacy
“Well, you can still like touch and
taste and smell god though.” Says Ophelia
“There may come a day, when my blind
and deaf soul is brought to its knees by the smell, the taste, and the touch of
god. I eagerly await that day.” Says Stacy
“There is communion at church, so that’s
a smell and taste, I don’t know if they will let you touch the cross though.”
Says Ophelia
“I’ll be damned if that induces an
epiphany when it has failed so many times before as those whose lives are
defined by such symbolism embrace the call of hell’s princes regardless.” Says
Stacy
“I’m pretty sure you will be saved by
the communion, I know it’s important.” Says Ophelia
“If communion saves all of the terrible
people who take it, I would be disgusted. I like to think that it exacerbates
their damnation due to feigning reverence in the house of god.” Says Grace
“Faith in god would equate to faith in
one’s own damnation. It does make sense.” Says Jenna
“I’m tired of talking about the
spookster. I’d almost rather talk about dogs.” Says Stacy, her own faith subtly
rattled
“Yeah, I don’t like to think about hell
either. But I do like dogs, it’s sad we’ve got to put them back in their
cages.” Says Ophelia,
“I’m sure old Roscoe here will be happy
enough to lie down and sleep for a while. I feel like I’ve been torturing him
by making him walk this much.” Says Stacy
“Wolfgang here is probably tired too, he was wild.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t want to call this cute puppy
Killer, even though he knows that as his name. It’s a sad name, but he is
really just a lover like me.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll miss Betty when I put her up, she
reminds me of myself, smart, energetic, and feisty.” Says Grace
“What was your dog’s name again, Jenna?
He seems a lot calmer than our dogs.” Says Isabelle
“Well, he doesn’t have a name that we
know. They think he was a homeless person’s dog, they call him Caboose because
they found him hanging out at the railyard.” Says Jenna
“That’s kind of sad. Cute name though.”
Says Isabelle
“All the dogs have such sad stories,
all of their owners ran into trouble and their dogs got left behind.” Says
Ophelia
“Makes you think about all of the
children who end up in the same situation.” Says Jenna
“Sadly, I’m pretty sure these dogs have
a lot higher chance of being adopted and loved than most orphans.” Says
Isabelle
“It’s a lot easier to make a dog happy
than it is to make a child happy, especially one with a rough past. People tend
to take that into account when they’re looking for company.” Says Grace
“Making a child happy, that sounds like
nonsense to me. Last I checked the interests of parents was keeping the child
alive and after that it’s school, and plenty of kids don’t even get the
secondary level of difference from their parents.” Says Stacy
“What do you mean difference?” asks Isabelle
“I’m just beating the word indifference
with the stick of logical language and using the word difference as its
antonym. Insecurity is the antonym of security; it only makes sense that the
word difference can be used as the antonym of the word indifference.” Says
Stacy
“I’m not sure that’s how it works, but
ok.” Says Isabelle
“That’s how you make it work; it’s a
far more clear-cut etymology than the bastardized tongue of the urban
population. Anyone who would approach language logically as opposed to
literally should be able to derive the definition.” Says Stacy
“Sadly the bastardized tongue of the
urban population reflects society’s indifference towards putting forth effort
to rear them properly.” Says Jenna
“When that society is made of up
fathers of bastard children and these children are raised in the environment
where this is the norm, it is to be expected that such a part of society is
defined by bastardized civility. Even in the broader sense, they are seen as
illegitimate children of the nation in the eyes of its tyrants and thoroughly
treated as such. These individuals cannot be blamed for the fact that they are
largely excluded from major aspects of society, nor can they be blamed for the
result of their attempts to create some form of society of their own due to
their denigration and segregation from the greater standardized society.” Says
Stacy
“They may not thrive, but they do
survive. I can credit them for maintaining their spirts throughout such
hardship.” Says Isabelle
“Sadly, that fate is shared by damn
near everybody to some degree, rings of exclusion emanating from the source of
power. The fools are the ones who think of themselves as superiors because they
occupy ring 38 instead of ring 39, when there are only 40 rings.” Says Stacy
“I figure all men have the same natural
level of pride. The man who conquers the earth will be just as prideful as the
dirt farmer; the dirt farmer will simply source his pride from whatever petty
difference he can argue puts him above somebody else.” Says Grace
“It takes a heavy hand to break the
soul of a man to the point where he instinctively hangs his head in shame. In
the absence of such a hand, the pride will come and even the most rickety
supports will firmly hold his pride, for in the end it is nothing but airs.”
Says Stacy
“It is easy for somebody to come along
and break the rickety supports though.” says Isabelle
“That is why I defend mine with such
fervor. Lugubrious glumness is for graveyards, if that is how I feel about
myself, I am already dead.” Says Stacy
“For some reason some people out there
seem to revel in such feelings.” Says Jenna
“Those people fond of such feelings are
those cast out by society. They know through experience that society does not
welcome them for some reason or another, so they distinguish themselves with
their dark garb as their uniform and find unity amongst the other outcasts.
They revel in morosity because society does not, they cannot take to pleasure
or joy because that would be attempting to amalgamate into a society that
refuses to let them do so. Without such a standard for mutual sentiments to be
formed around, they use sadness instead of pleasure as the binding caulk of
their social relationships, instead of drinking pleasure with friends, they
drink sadness with friends. There are people who do this because they have no
alternative, but there are also those who do so out of indignation or futile
attempts to spur iconoclasm of social norms.”
Says Stacy
“Why use sadness to make friendships
though?” asks Ophelia
“Birds of a feather flock together, and
friendships tend to form around mutuality, there are many birds in this
accursed paradise, and their feathers of drinking, sport, hobby, faith or any
other interests be them usual or unusual. No matter the feather, a bird will
more than likely have its flock, and often these flocks dawn uniforms, which
happen to be largely black in the case of the glumfolk.” Says Stacy
“Are you saying everyone at school is
one big flock because of the uniforms?” asks Ophelia
“No, that is a forced uniform. The
uniform is an attempt to induce uniformity, largely in the form of devotion to
education, the uniforms I mentioned were uniforms voluntarily worn by those
wrapped in them. Every prisoner is forced to wear the same uniform, but
regardless of their apparent similarities, they have very different sentiments
about each other and the world at large, that’s the difference.” Says Stacy
“The shelter kind of reminds me of a
prison.” Says Isabelle
“It’s a much better situation that
starving on the street or being hit by a car or something.” Says Grace
“It’s ironic that homeless animals are
provided free food and shelter yet homeless people are largely neglected.” Says
Jenna
“It’s hard to break even getting people
to adopt homeless junkies and lunatics.” Says Stacy
“A lot of them are decent people down
on their luck.” Says Jenna
“That’s true, but it is unlikely
anybody would think a vagrant is cute enough to pay money and bring them into
their home and treat them like family.” Says Stacy
“You just have to clean them up, I’m
sure people might do that.” Says Ophelia
“People often don’t even want or enjoy the
company of the people they live with inside of their own home; it’s unlikely
that people will learn to love each other in the way that they love a dog. Man
is far less loyal, humble, gracious, and loving than a dog, if that were not
the case I’m sure people would be adopted right and left.” Says Grace
“Even powerless humans are powerful
enough to be corrupted by their own power, even if it only takes the form of
indignation or delusion.” Says Stacy
“Thankfully dogs don’t have too much of
that.” Says Ophelia
“They are unnatural sentiments, so
thankfully they only afflict those who’ve spurned nature’s bosom.” Says Stacy
“It would be awful if every animal was
as vice-stricken as mankind. Hell on earth.” Says Isabelle
“Man would deserve every second of it
for his grievances against the Earth.” Says Stacy
“Amen to that. I can imagine hell
already with every animal spiting man through its own newfound self-serving
vices.” Says Grace
“Animals go to heaven though.” Says
Ophelia
“Well, I suppose god would have to birth
hellspawn in the form of animals to torture the damned.” Says Grace
“You seem to be enjoying the thoughts
of such torture.” Says Isabelle
“Of course, who wouldn’t want to see
the wicked brought to justice and answer for their wrongs.” Says Grace
“I suppose the wicked wouldn’t want
that.” Jokes Stacy
“Clearly, but a good person would.”
Says Grace
“You seem to ignore the fact that you
are probably in that group of damned fools.” Says Isabelle
“Even human’s justice system delivers
varying degrees of punishment in accordance with the severity of the crime. I
will be happily punished knowing the fates of those far worse than me are
proportionally punishing.” Says Grace
“Let’s just hope god doesn’t let the
rich pay for the best lawyers to talk down their sentence.” Says Stacy
“Only the avarice of man would equate
being bribed to seeing justice served. It’s sad that the rich simply pay the
fine for their crimes, while the poor are incarcerated because they cannot.”
Says Grace
“You definitely can’t bribe god, he
wouldn’t want money anyways.” Says Ophelia
“It was fairly commonplace to bribe the
church in hopes that it would ease one’s divine punishment a few hundred years
ago. They finally decided that was immoral, though.” Says Jenna
“If they don’t donate out of the
goodness of their hearts, I see no problem with selling them a reprieve from
the fear of god. The only problem I would have is if the priests actually
believed that would help the cause of the damned.” Says Stacy
“Speaking of donations, we should try
to raise some money like Aurelia was talking about. Maybe she will bring it up
next week or something and teach us how to do it.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure it wouldn’t be hard, animals
are an easy pitch because they have no affiliation to any sentiment or opinion
other than sympathy.” Says Isabelle
“That would make it very hard,
considering the heartless nature of man.” Says Grace
“While the man is working, the old
ladies will answer the door and there’s all the sympathy we need.” Says
Isabelle, the girls entering the shelter
“Remember to put your dogs back in the
right kennel and put the leashes back where you found them!” Says Aurelia as
the gaggle of girls does as it’s told
“Thanks again for your help today girls!
I hope you all come back! I’m sure the dogs will be happy to see you again!”
says the handler
“We will!” shouts the crowd giddily
“Don’t die on me Roscoe. You need to be
here when I come back. I can’t handle these other beasts. You’re the dog for
me.” Says Stacy, petting her dog as he puts him back in the kennel, he looks at
her, lies down, and go to sleep.
“Let’s go everybody, we don’t want to
miss the train!” shouts Aurelia, shepherding her flock
The doggedly dogmatic dog loving
dogfaces dogged their doge into the wilds where once vehemently feral beasts
now stood domesticated and docile amongst their insipid edifices erected and
protected by edict. They trot agiggle like a blade of sad nostalgia sensually
lancing the hearts of onlookers which wept bountifully the exudate of their
infection with past regrets and longing for old friends. None who take leisure
in such were present to drink and savor this emulsion. The grey nondescript
city streets turned into grey nondescript city streets that happened to have a
metro station, which danced with the lovely ladies and held the door for them
as they entered one of his many nameless snakes. The metro station is always
quite the gentleman. His snakes serenaded his newfound ladyfriends with
pleasant tones and the peaceful incantations of the fairy who massages the
brain of the snake.
The girls are among the last to climb
inside of the familiar train crowded only by their crowd and a handful of
strangers for flavor. Ophelia sits down, Stacy sits beside her. Isabelle looks
at Grace, grins slyly and runs to sit down beside Ophelia. Grace frowns at
Isabelle.
“I just wanted to see what you would
do. I know you wanted to sit with Ophelia.” Says Isabelle, chuckling
“You’re so mean.” Says Grace
“I didn’t know I was so popular.” Says
Ophelia
“Clearly.” Says Stacy
“Poor little Grace can’t have Ophelia
for the ride.” Teases Isabelle
“Yes she can, you can sit on my lap.
Everybody can have Ophelia for the ride.” Says Ophelia, warmly, quite pleased
by her popularity
Grace smiles and sits on her lap.
Ophelia wraps her arms around her friend’s torso; Grace puts her arm around her
friend and pulls Ophelia’s head into her breast. Jenna frowns, sighs, and sits beside
Stacy.
Aurelia walks into the train after the
last of the students enter. She notices the girls and exhales quickly,
approaching them.
“Sorry to ask this, it may sound weird”
asks Aurelia, embarrassed “but are you two… lovers?”
Grace looks at her, a bit startled,
releasing Ophelia from her bosom.
“Well, I am very much so a lover. Grace
may have some trouble being a lover though, she is kind of bitter sometimes.”
Says Ophelia, proudly
“I’m working on it.” Says Grace,
timidly, looking at Aurelia concernedly
“Well, ok. Just not too much loving,
ok?” says Aurelia, still embarrassed
“There can never be too much loving.”
says Ophelia, surprised and a bit upset by the statement
“Yes there can. Clearly. Please listen
to this woman.” Says Isabelle
“I hope you know what is… um… acceptable behavior, and try to keep the
loving to that, ok?” Says Aurelia
“Of course.” Says Grace, a bit embarrassed
“I’ll let you know if I find any
unacceptable loving. It may be hard to do with such an open heart.” Says
Ophelia
“I am going to trust Grace to behave
herself. Don’t worry about it, Aurelia. I will be sure to moderate this matter.
Sadly this predicament is largely my fault for sitting here thinking it would
in some way prevent this kind of thing.” Says Isabelle
“There’s nothing sad about being friends,
nor should it be prevented.” Says Ophelia, a bit hurt
“Well, thank you. You were Isabelle,
right?” says Aurelia
“Indeed. Sorry about all this.” Says
Isabelle
“Don’t worry about it, no need to be
sorry. It’s perfectly fine; we are all very open minded here. I just wanted to
make sure these things don’t get out of hand. It looked a bit ominous.” Says
Aurelia, apologetically
“You’ve a keen eye for omens there,
Aurelia.” Jokes Stacy
“Thanks.” Says Aurelia, a bit confused
“It’s a good omen though, an omen of
friendship.” Says Ophelia
“Yes. It is very good that you are
friends like that. I’m sorry for bringing this up.” Says Aurelia, quite embarrassed
“Don’t be. They’ll behave, don’t worry.
Again, truly sorry.” Says Isabelle
“It’s quite alright, I suppose it’s
quite normal and nothing out of the ordinary.” Says Aurelia, comfortingly
“You might be getting the wrong message
across.” Says Jenna
“Oh no. Don’t think of it like that.
It’s perfectly fine to be like that.” Says Aurelia, growing nervous
“You’re almost encouraging them.” Says
Stacy
“Well, it would be very wrong to
discourage them. They should know that we support everybody, and should feel at
home no matter what.” Says Aurelia, nervously
“No. They should feel in public, at the
very least when we are in public. Don’t worry about it though. It will be
family friendly as long as I’m watching.” Says Isabelle
“Of course a friendship will be family
friendly.” says Ophelia, hugging her friend
“Good. I’ll let you all enjoy
yourselves.” Says Aurelia
“Not too much, please.” Sighs Isabelle
“Just the right amount then.” Says
Grace, playfully
“As long as it’s not the wrong amount
I’ll be relieved. I’m glad you know better than that because some people
clearly don’t.” Says Isabelle
“Ophelia would never want to have the
wrong amount of fun. I don’t think she would even know how.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
Says Jenna
“Of course it’s not a bad thing to
always have the right amount of fun; having the wrong amount of fun means
you’re not doing it right.” Says Ophelia
“There is such a thing as too much fun
though.” Says Isabelle
“I’ll let you know if I ever have too
much fun. That might be hard.” Says Ophelia
“I will let you know right away as
well.” Says Isabelle
“Thanks. I wouldn’t want to get hurt or
anything.” Says Ophelia
“No problem.” Says Isabelle, staring
blankly at the wall, upset with herself more than the others
“A little slapstick never hurt anybody,
but I’m sure Grace wouldn’t want Ophelia to get hurt like that.” Says Stacy
“It’s just what friends would do for
each other.” Says Grace, pulling Ophelia into her breast, stroking her hair and
gazing at her lovingly
“You’re such a good friend.” Says
Ophelia
“You are too.” Says Grace
"So we are just going along with
this ride as long as possible?” asks Isabelle
“It’s the only way.” Says Jenna
“Enjoy it while it lasts.” Says Stacy
“I appreciate the support.” Says Grace
“Well we’re not going on the train as
long as possible; we have to get off eventually.” Says Ophelia
“One can only hope.” Says Jenna
“If the ride is this entertaining, I
may not want to get off.” Jokes Stacy
“Maybe you will never have to.” Says
Grace, playfully
“We definitely get off at the stop by
school.” Says Ophelia
“Now I might need to wash my brain with
caustic cleaning chemicals.” Says Isabelle
“You’re not going to enjoy it like
Stacy?” asks Jenna
“It’s hard because I seem to have a
conscience.” Says Isabelle
“That’s not healthy Isabelle; you might
want to get that checked out.” Jokes Stacy
“I’ll try to take your advice.” Says
Isabelle
“Scruples are but the shackles that
bind man to his master’s whipping pole.” Says Stacy
“Your choices are being whipped,
imprisoned, or dead. Take your pick.” Says Jenna
“Slave masters also made the choice to
become what they are, it simply requires one to be scrupulous with one’s
scruples, just enough to save face and avoid becoming enslaved at the same
time.” Says Stacy
“You’re quite ambitious.” Says Isabelle
“I will dream until the world
mercilessly crushes them, then I shall be content with delusion.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you have a backup plan.” Says
Jenna
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Says Stacy
“Try to have some dreams that aren’t
directly under the foot of those who crush them.” Says Jenna
“If the dreams cannot be easily
crushed, they are no longer dreams, they are ambitions, and when you fail to
achieve them, the feeling is not one of waking up on a pleasant morning after a
dream completely indifferent, but rather that of defeat, for your body bears
the crushing weight of the boots that stomp upon your ambitions until you no
longer have the will to live.” Says Stacy
“Maybe try for some ambitions you don’t
think you will fail to accomplish.” Says Isabelle
“It is respectable for a grandmother to
be satisfied when she knits a hat for her grandchildren, for she is not capable
of much else. Here I am the puppeteer of this carapace of a beast, slowly
rotting due to its infestation with living, and I still dwell amongst the fools
cursed with this same fate. I am the ghost that captains this bag of flesh and
bones, and when I am released from this prison I do not wish to haunt the earth
accursed because I squandered such an opportunity. Every man that has scarred
this Eden with his depravity has wielded this same wicked arsenal of sapience
that I too bear, so to be contented with hats and smiles is irreverent to the
men who by their own ingenuity wrought this paradise of damnation from the matricide
and mutilation of their mother’s innocent divinity.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think I would base my
philosophy off of the actions of terrible men who accomplished things though
irreverence and immorality.” Says Grace
“Men are terrible, this is true, but I
am the same scorned beast and thus by nature I too am terrible. If this fact
displeases you, go run naked in the wilds and die from malnutrition with the
hippies.” Says Stacy
“All I’m saying is there is probably a
better way.” Says Grace
“If there was a better way, it would
have been found. Man has been able to create electric machines to display and
convey a plethora of information that communicate nearly instantly around the
world. If there was a better way, it would surely have been found and clearly documented
over the course of written history. It is a bitter pill, but it is full of
essential nutrients.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think that the motivation to
permanently scar the planet is really an essential nutrient.” Says Isabelle
“If it were not for the first man to
till the earth and plant his crop, then man would be wild still. Sacrificing
the purity of the planet is how man has reaped such a bountiful harvest, even
if I were to refrain, others will do it, and I simply become their living
chattel bred sold and worked as any other beast of burden. I simply ask myself
if I desire to return to a comfortable house after a long day’s work, or do I
desire to return to a barn.” Says Stacy
“Even dogs have houses here; I don’t
think you will end up in a barn, Stacy.” Says Ophelia
“Regardless, it would still be
irreverent to graciously volunteer myself into slavery and die toiling over
another man’s ambitions in exchange for creature comforts. It is the weak
minded who see this as success, for while it produces a succession, it is a
succession of failure.” Says Stacy
“I think you should try to save the
planet, instead of scarring it. Most people have already come to that
conclusion.” Says Jenna
“If those who dare to do so actually
save this hell, then I shall be ever so pleased. These are the people who god
willing may reset the fallen pins, and those inclined to indifferently survive
are those who wax the lane. Undoubtedly, somebody will roll the bowling ball
down the lane again. Is it wrong for me to desire to be the one who gets to
enjoy the sport of bowling if my actions change not the fate of the pins?” asks
Stacy
“I’m going to go with yes, clearly. The
point is to not do that and maybe enjoy the other parts of the bowling alley.”
Says Jenna
“If man can right the fallen pins once,
I put faith in him to do it again. Righting the pins is just as evil as the
bowling itself, for it simply tempts mankind to bowl once more. Competition is
natural, and sport is an analogue of such. As it is man’s instinct to bowl as
he does, is the cheetah to blame for hunting, killing, and eating the gazelle?”
asks Stacy
“Well it would become a problem when
there are no more gazelles, wouldn’t it?” asks Jenna
“If the wolves and rabbits cannot keep
each other’s numbers in check, then extinction is an acceptable fate. Gluttony
is a deadly vice and if overindulgence is what exterminates mankind, so be it.
Even if we control our consumption, there are yet 6 more vices itching to
eradicate this race of damnable fools.” Says Stacy
“The other six don’t seem to be the
one’s destroying the planet.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure man would find a way to
destroy the planet with each and every one of the vices. Even if you stopped
one there would be six other knives stabbing the planet to death.” Says Grace
“Each and every human will die in this
bowling alley, this is our fate. If the falling of the last pin does not stop
our hearts, then undoubtedly our fate is one of the six other gruesome deaths
that await us. If death is inevitable, why not take leisure in bowling?” asks
Stacy
“Realists understand that it is
extremely likely that they will not be the one’s bowling, and hence their
objection to the sport.” Says Jenna
“If they were realists they would
understand it’s nigh impossible to stop man from bowling.” Says Grace
“They are idealists, and I am a
dreamer. Neither will likely see their plans come to fruition, but still we
dare to believe.” Says Stacy
“I can get behind you Stacy, if
somebody is going to whip mankind mercilessly with their words, I’d be thankful
that it’s you instead of some stupid snake tongued bastard selling snake oil dreams
and preaching futile idealism.” Says Isabelle
“Sadly, people will never enjoy being
told the truth. They want to be told something better than the truth, the truth
hurts and lies are the analgesics that allow people to escape the entombing
reality, even if only in their dreams.” Says Stacy
“You wouldn’t lather some of that sweet
flavor the people want into your shtick just to get more people to support
you?” asks Grace
“If I want to get into politics it’s
basically a requirement to be a manipulative snake-tongued sociopath. The hard
part will be sympathizing with mankind enough to actually try to help him.”
Says Stacy
“You really can’t sympathize with
people?” asks Ophelia
“It’s not the people as much as the
shareholding plutocrats, everything I would do as a politician has to be in the
best interests of the people who own the government. I could only help the
people if it also helps the money.” Says Stacy
“I want to argue with that, but I
can’t.” says Jenna
“It’s not so bad, you’re either
governed by the wealthy or you’re governed by the idiocy of the general public.
The wealthy at least know how to be successful, the general public doesn’t know
how to do much more than be indignant and expect miracles.” Says Isabelle
“This is our stop everybody! Don’t
forget anything! I trust you all know how to make it back from here, if you
don’t want to go back to school, you don’t. Have a great weekend and thanks for
coming!” shouts Aurelia
“Get off of her Grace, I put up with
that for far too long.” Says Isabelle impatiently to Grace, still sitting on
Ophelia’s Lap
“But I don’t want to.” Says Grace,
cuddling Ophelia playfully
“This is our stop though, if we don’t
get off we’ll get lost pretty quick.” Says Ophelia
“I’d love to get lost with you.” Says
Grace
“I don’t really like being lost though,
it’s pretty scary. I’ll carry you if you really don’t want to get off that bad,
because I’m definitely getting off and I don’t want you to get lost either.”
Says Ophelia
“Ok.” Says Grace playfully
“Jesus Christ.” Sighs Isabelle, Stacy
chuckles
Ophelia picks up Grace who wraps her
arms around Ophelia’s neck like a bride and struggles a bit as she carries her
out of the train, the other running girls well ahead of them
“People make this look way easier than
it is.” Says Ophelia in a strained voice, standing on the platform
“Can you put her down?” asks Isabelle,
impatiently
“If she lets me, I don’t want to drop
her.” Says Ophelia, struggling to hold Grace
Grace pecks her friend on the cheek,
“You’re so cute. You can put me down though.” She says
Ophelia lets her down and Grace grabs
her friend’s arm coquettishly
“Have you no shame?” asks Isabelle,
astonished
“You’re the only one who seems to have
any shame here Isabelle.” Jokes Stacy
“I also have shame, unfortunately.”
Says Jenna
“Thank god somebody is sane.” Says
Isabelle
“It truly is a pity.” Says Stacy, as
the girls exit the metro terminal through
“You girls hungry? I saw some guy with
a food cart outside of the metro when we arrived. I kind of wonder what he is
selling.” Says Isabelle as they step outside
“Sure, that sounds fun.” Says Ophelia,
as the girls exit the metro and approach the man at an unlabeled silver cart
under an umbrella listening to a radio in a foreign language
“You girls hungry?” he asks
“What is it you sell?” asks Isabelle
“Slave cakes.” Says the man
“I can’t say that sounds appetizing.”
Says Isabelle
“They are great. It’s sunflower,
seasame, chia, and flax seeds, they’ve all been ground up. You just put some
cornstarch in there and spray and mix with water until you’ve got a cake. Then
you sprinkle some spices on there and it’s great. Raw, gluten free, vegan. Bay
City’s favorite.” Says the man
“Sounds like something this city would
love to eat.” Says Jenna
“Everybody loves them. Only $1.00 and
it comes with a bottle of water.” Says the man
“That sounds like a good deal, why are
they so cheap?” asks Stacy
“I buy this stuff in bulk, like feeding
a hippie commune bulk. Super cheap that way. Same thing with the spices.” Says
the man
“What sort of spices do you have?” asks
Isabelle
“I’ve got Latin spice, Asian spice, and
even cinnamon sugar.” He says
“I’ll treat you girls,” Says Isabelle
“I would have spent more than five dollars on a meal for myself anyways. I’ll
have the Latin spice.” Says Isabelle
“I’m wouldn’t turn down free food, even
if it is hippie food,” Says Stacy “I’ll take latin as well.
“Thanks Isabelle, I’ll try the Asian I
guess.” Says Jenna
“Same.” Says Grace
“I’ll have cinnamon sugar!” says
Ophelia
“Got it, coming right up.” Says the
man, excitedly
“Is the water also hippie water?” asks
Isabelle
“You bet, raw, vegan, gluten free, 100%
pure. It’s the good stuff.” Says the man, rubbing spices on the premade cakes
he places in sandwich paper
“That just sounds like normal water.”
Says Jenna
“You never know these days.” Says the
guy
“I suppose that is kind of true.” Says
Jenna
“Two Latin, two Asian, and one cinnamon.”
Says the man, gesturing at the cakes
Isabelle unbuttons her shirt and
reaches into her bra to grab money to pay him.
“You’re a kid and you still do that,
how come no woman ever just has a purse like where I come from. It’s always in
the bra.” Says the man
“It’s Bay City, if you have a purse it
gets stolen or if you have pockets you get pickpocketed.” Says Isabelle
“Damn that is kind of true; even I’ve
got the pockets on the inside of the pants for that reason.”
“It’s a bit more inappropriate for a girl
to unbutton her trousers and reach into those backwards pockets than it is for
a man to do so, not that women don’t do that though.” Says Isabelle
“Makes me glad I don’t take cards, most
women I see just keep them in their knickers. I figured you would just call
them pockets, it would be backwards to have them on the outside in this city.”
Says the man
“They’ve got card pockets in most
knickers sold around here though. It’s not so bad.” Says Isabelle
“Makes me wonder what you do if you’re
wearing a dress.” Says the man
“You have your man pay, obviously.
They’ve got bras with card pockets, too now. It’s funny that undergarments are
responsible for preventing a lot of crime in this city.” Says Isabelle
“At least somebody is willing to try,
the cops couldn’t care less.” Says the man
“I’m sure they could, but they’re only paid
to look like they care.” Jokes Isabelle
“Wow, this is good.” Says Ophelia
taking a bit of her food.
“I appreciate your business. You can
sit on those benches. If anybody asks you’re waiting for the bus. I can’t
actually allow you to sit on the benches.” Says the man
“Thanks for the tip. Take it easy.”
Says Stacy, the girls walking over to the benches
“I always do.” Says the man
“Who would have guessed that cheap food
would actually be decent.” Says Isabelle
“Poor people are serious about their food;
it’s one of the few pleasures in their life.” Says Stacy
“I like that he can target the poor and
healthy demographics, that’s the majority of the city.” Says Jenna
“You think he makes any money? It’s so
cheap.” Asks Ophelia
“I’m sure he does. He probably pays
less than 10 cents for a bottle of water. The seeds I’m unsure of, but maybe a
dollar a pound. This is maybe 2 ounces of seeds, so it cost him 12 cents. The
spices I’m sure are cheap in bulk, so the cake might cost him 15 cents. Spend
one dollar to make four dollars, not a bad deal. It’s just about sales volume
at that point, but this is a busy station on the weekdays.” Says Isabelle
“Got the mind for money, I see.” Says
Stacy
“Money is the interesting form of math.
Pure math like we use in school is meaningless, but money rules the world.”
Says Isabelle
“It’s just taught without meaning
because it’s easier to understand, if it was actually meaningless then we
wouldn’t learn it.” Says Jenna
“I know, but I couldn’t care less about
the numbers, if they made every question about money then it might actually
interest people for once.” Says Isabelle
“The problem is a lot of people
struggle with word problems as it is, they want everybody to pass so they
figure they’ll let those with the skillset adapt the skills themselves later in
life. Their only concern is the marks of the students.” Says Stacy
“I just think it would inspire more
children if they could understand the meaning behind it.” Says Isabelle
“Do you girls like yours? Mine is
great.” Says Isabelle
“It’s got some spice, not bad at all.”
Says Isabelle
“Same with the Asian, a bit spicy.”
Says Jenna
“You want to try mine?” asks Grace
“Ok.” Says Ophelia, Grace picks off a
small piece of hers and moves it towards Ophelia’s mouth who happily sucks the
food out of her friends fingers.
“Yummy! You can have some of mine,
too.” Says Ophelia, who returns the favor as Grace happily tastes her friends
fingers
“Did you like it?” asks Ophelia
“I really did, thank you.” Says Grace
“Are we talking about the food or the
fingers?” jokes Isabelle
“If we’re eating finger food, I suppose
there isn’t much difference.” Says Stacy
“Somebody might be happy enough just
eating fingers.” Says Isabelle
“Sadly, plenty of people are so hungry
they would be happy to suck the flavor off of your fingers.” Says Jenna
“I didn’t know you were that hungry,
Grace.” teases Isabelle
“I’m fairly satisfied now, so don’t
worry about me.” Says Grace, sassily
“Clearly.” Says Jenna
“So you were satisfied within the
bounds of fairness?” asks Isabelle
“All is fair in love in war.” Says
Stacy
“Wow, I didn’t expect that from Stacy.
All my love must be rubbing off on you.” Says Ophelia cutely
“Not too much I hope.” Teases Grace
“God no. I’m fonder of the war part of
that aphorism.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to open your heart, Stacy.”
Says Ophelia
“It is open, when I find somebody that
can love this sick, twisted little girl for who she really is, I’ll be damned
sure to love them dearly.” Says Stacy
“You are super lovable Stacy, I’m sure
everybody here loves you.” Says Ophelia
“I would never put faith in the words
of a blind man who calls me beautiful.” Says Stacy
“I love you Stacy, not like that, but
you’re an important part of my life.” Says Jenna
“You’re plenty lovable; you just need
to find a man as wild as you are.” Says Isabelle
“Two wild rabid beasts tend to go at
each other’s throats fairly quickly.” Says Stacy
“Maybe find somebody to cure your
rabies and tame you a little bit.” Says Ophelia
“I’d rather die than become submissive
and docile; one of them is far less painful than the other.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you will find somebody who
can love you. It’s Bay City after all; it’s full of the wildest people known to
man.” Says Grace
“It’s almost like they replace the
lithium with scopolamine when they chemtrail this place.” Says Stacy
“That would explain a lot.” Says
Isabelle
“I’m not complaining. Better to sense
all of life and then some than it is to be desensitized to life.” Says Stacy
“You actually believe in that stuff?”
asks Jenna
“You’ve got to control the population
somehow. If this was a pleasant town of decent people they’d be happy to
control us with antimanic agents to keep us purring in the palm of their hand,
but since half of Bay City doesn’t provide any sort of benefit to society, they
choose to utilize something akin to traditional population control.” Says Stacy
“If they wanted those populations
controlled I’m sure they would do something about it. It’s not like it hasn’t
happened in the past.” Says Jenna
“That’s bad PR though, it makes people
worry about who’s getting euthanized or eunuchated next. It’s much easier this
way, why bother killing them when you can make them kill each other for a
fraction of the cost.” Says Stacy
“I still think that’s nonsense.” Says
Jenna
“If it was nonsense, how else would the
majority of the city be so crazy to believe in such a thing? It takes a certain
level of inherent insanity to believe that stuff, it’s unnaturally high in Bay
City so it has to come from somewhere, you know?” says Stacy
“If I wasn’t such a natural skeptic I
would want to believe you. I don’t know why this city is so disproportionally
insane though.” Says Jenna
“I think that urban areas tend to
induce that sort of disorder for some reason.” Says Isabelle
“I think it’s just that urban areas
attract the desperate and impoverished with their false promises of success,
and often the desperate and impoverished are so afflicted because of their
insanity, and it doesn’t help that their insanity makes them even more prone to
believing in such false promises. It’s a positive feedback loop that spans
generations.” Says Grace
“I still like the chemtrails; it’s a
way less depressing idea.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure both are true.” Says Grace
“Why isn’t Jenna crazy then?” asks
Isabelle
“She has to be crazy if she puts up
with me, it’s just that quiet kind of crazy.” Says Stacy
“I’m not crazy.” Says Ophelia
“That’s what crazy people think.” Says
Stacy
“So 100% of people are crazy?” asks Isabelle
“Sounds about right.” Says Grace
“Well, I don’t think anybody is crazy
here.” Says Ophelia
“Now you’re the craziest one here.”
Says Stacy
“I think you’ve still got her beat,
Stacy.” Says Jenna
“At least I know I’m crazy.” Says Stacy
“But I know for a fact I’m not crazy at
all, I’m just nice and normal.” Says Ophelia
“I think being nice and normal has to
be a symptom of some type of insanity.” Says Isabelle
“Then I guess I’m so crazy that I’m
nice and normal, but I don’t think that’s crazy at all.” Says Ophelia
“I’m pretty sure society grades that
sort of thing on a curve, as long as we are less crazy than say 50% of the
population, we are technically not crazy. Seeing how many symptoms of
traditional insanity become accepted as parts of normalcy as society has
progressed over the centuries, even Stacy could be considered sane in this day
and age.” Says Jenna
“That’s actually comforting. I’m
usually a little concerned that I am crazy, but I feel like a weight has been
lifted off of my chest.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. I think you’re quirky,
but not crazy.” Says Ophelia
“Quirky as can be. I like it. It makes
me feel cute, but like an exhilarating kind of cute. Don’t mind me, just being
cute as a button.” Says Stacy
“It is kind of cute.” Says Isabelle
“Maybe let’s not get too carried away,
some sort of reservation regarding one’s own appearance as it relates to
blatant mental illness tends to be beneficial to everybody.” Says Jenna
“I can save face when I have to, but I
just feel a bit more comfortable letting go.” Says Stacy
“You were discomforted by your lack of
inhibition in regards to appearing insane before this?” asks Jenna
“No, but I just feel even more
comfortable about it now.” Says Stacy
“That makes sense.” Says Jenna
“I would say that’s a good thing, too
many girls these days aren’t comfortable in their own skin.” Says Isabelle
“You can blame society and the media
for that.” Says Grace
“Society and the media just want people
they can sell, if the more they open the door to imperfection the less value
their sheep have to the world at large.” Says Stacy
“You don’t mind that they damage the
psyche of young people everywhere by setting unrealistic standards?” asks Jenna
“If anything they’re too nice. People
have always been conditioned to look up to unrealistic standards, from Jesus to
King Arthur. The lower the standard is, the more comfortable people feel when
they fall very far from the standard. If children were read stories of my dad as
if he were some kind of fairy tale protagonist, they would feel proud of
themselves for drinking all day and living off of stipends. The fantastical
standards are the carrots on sticks in front of the children that condition
them to work hard in order to accomplish great things, if it’s just a carrot on
a table next to some liquor there’s nothing there conditioning them to do those
things, they just eat the carrot, start drinking, and then consider themselves
to be accomplished and respectable individuals because they got the damn carrot
they were told to chase after as kids.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think that the media is that
nice. If they were, people would all feel comfortable with themselves.” Says
Ophelia
“It’s headed in that direction. The
last thing anyone wants is for everyone to feel comfortable with themselves. I
would say it’s already a problem when children grow up listening to the music
of criminal iconoclasts and idolize that instead of some gentleman scholar or
war hero. The reason that music does so well is because people that already
live that life feel validated when they listen to it, and it has evolved as a
marketable good to the point where it attracts people and even children who
don’t live that life. It portrays the criminals as some kind king-slayer when
they rattle on about their illicit success as if they had no other
alternative.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know if a lot of those people
really had any alternative to crime if they wanted to be successful. Public
schools don’t really prepare the impoverished for greatness, they prepare them
for meaniality at best.” Says Isabelle
“There are always alternatives to
crime, it would have taken the same amount of dedication and ingenuity they put
into a criminal enterprise but it is certainly possible. The youth are tempted
by that life because the pyramid scheme of criminals is so accessible compared
to legitimate society. The music that shills the scheme is just as bad as every
other pyramid scheme out there, it’s the same cocaine fueled cult leader at the
top selling unachievable dreams, they tell the kids that they have achieved
such greatness through crime and music, and you can too. They don’t tell the
kids about the 99.9% of their fellow criminals who still live in poverty or are
in prison regardless of their same commitment to the urban American Dream. The
stories about the man who rose from nothing to greatness are the ones that sell
the best, and that’s the only end of the story kids end up hearing and so they
blindly put faith in it. If the music was nothing but lyrics about how they
stayed sober, worked up the ladder a little bit and now make a comfortable
living that supersedes that of even the most successful street level drug
dealers, kids would actually have something to look up to. Sadly nobody wants
to hear another story of somebody who accepts a lowly life within the system;
they blame the system for all of their problems and only want to hear about
people who have found success by alternative methods.” Says Stacy
“You’re probably exaggerating the
impact, sure people like to hear the story of the man who fights the system and
wins, but plenty of those people still live out their lives as peaceful
civilians.” Says Jenna
“I’m not saying that is untrue, I’m
just saying that it is a corrupting influence that causes a select portion of
people to become tolerant to if not infatuated by crime. They hear of the
glorious one, but not the chorus of the thousand men in prison just chanting ‘I
was also a criminal and now I am in prison.’ Logically the voices of the
thousand would drown out the voice of the outlier, but the imprisoned are a
silent majority in this scenario. When this lifestyle is a glorified motif of a
genre defined by opulence and sold as a way to achieve such wild dreams, plenty
of people will be gullible enough to believe that crime is a legitimate means
to become successful and some will even see that as the only possible way they
can escape poverty.” Says Stacy
“It is likely just the audio form of
the chemtrails you were talking about. Just another pollutant used to cause
those undesired by Babylon to kill each other.” Says Isabelle
“That’s the truth. We can shout at the
planes all day but it wouldn’t do a damn thing to stop them from dousing the
city with chemicals.” Says Stacy
“Regardless of the factuality of the
matter, the best course of action seems to live and let live. To try and do
anything about that sort of thing would be a wild goose chase directly into a
minefield.” Says Jenna
“It’s ironic that the healthiest
mentality to take is sadomasochism. Be grateful for and enjoy the pain Babylon
inflicts upon you, and aid Babylon in inflicting pain upon others with your
silence; to do anything else is to die.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure sadomasochism has
always been the only viable philosophy on this planet. History has always been
defined by wars, depravity, and atrocity, and those who are successful are
simply the ones who make the most of it for themselves.” Says Grace
“It is an evolution of sadomasochism.
In the past, it was more than enough to enjoy inflicting pain upon others and enjoy
the pain they inflict upon you: that was all it took to conquer nations. As the
status quo was slowly established, people were split into groups, the more so
sadistic gained power while the more so masochistic became their legions.
Nowadays since the vehement social eunuchation of mankind, the plebian is so
ashamed of human nature that they ask for it to be concealed as if it were a
nun’s body. The same sort of affairs happen, but it’s in the shadows and only
as much as possible without too many people noticing too much. It’s a sneaky
sort of sadomasochism.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure everybody would agree
that human nature is bad.” Says Grace
“Human nature is why the world exists
as it does today, to abandon that is to abandon 100,000 years of success.” Says
Stacy
“It was a pretty violent and immoral
success, would you really defend that?” asks Jenna
“I will always defend the violent and
immoral success of mankind with my life over a peaceful and moral failure of
mankind. Either somebody’s dying or everybody’s dying. Take your pick. I’m
going to throw whoever that somebody is to the wolves every day of my life.”
Says Stacy
“There could be a peaceful and moral
success of mankind, you know.” Says Ophelia
“I have little faith in that. I don’t
expect to see a vegan wolf any time soon, so don’t expect me to have faith in
human success garnered from morality and peace. Morality and peace are only
attained when one side of a war has been thoroughly brutalized to the point
where they submit to their oppressors. There is nothing peaceful about peace;
it is simply a silent, sadistic, and systematic enslavement of defeated
peoples.” Says Stacy
“At least we’re on the side of the
victors.” Says Isabelle
“That’s a laugh. The people of this
nation have been enslaved by the capitalists since colonial days. The oligarchs
are the ones who reap the spoils of war; the only thing their slaves that were
sent to die in their name gained from their own victory was pride.” Says Stacy
“At least the pockets of the penniless
Americans are not empty, for they are full of pride of course.” Says Jenna
“It’s better than being penniless and
full of shame.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t know. The Japanese and the
Germans tend to work extremely hard to attain their self-respect where
Americans just tend to tend to shoot guns, drink, and worship eagles for that
same sense of pride.” Says Stacy
“Maybe we should move to Germany or
Japan, people might actually be halfway decent over there.” Says Grace
“It takes a large fall from grace for
people to become and remain aware of their own indecency. If there is nothing
to condemn the indecency, it becomes accepted as another fact of life and is
written off as decent, because all those who beg to differ are silenced by the
brutality of the nouveau decency.” Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t say it’s anything new. It’s
just the victor’s privilege. If you make the rules, of course you cut yourself
some slack. Double standards are the easiest ones to achieve after all.” Says
Isabelle
“It’s half the work for all of the
reward. It’s simple economics when it comes down to it.” Says Stacy
“Men only want to figure out ways to do
less of the work and get more of the reward. It’s shameless.” Says Grace
“I don’t think shame has ever won any
wars or cornered any markets. It’s not like you can blame them for wanting to
thrive.” Says Isabelle
“The uranium mauls of fallacious shame and
guilt are mercilessly, shamelessly wielded by those wishing to exacerbate the
unnatural selection of inhumanly humane society.” Says Stacy
“When society has replaced nature,
wouldn’t social selection be just as good?” asks Jenna
“It’s not social selection. Those
selected to survive are not selected based upon their benefit to society, it is
humane selection. When you rear and breed every lamb born without fleece out of
compassion, your end up tending to a flock of sheep that yields no wool.” Says
Stacy
“I would think the plutocrats would be wiser
than to allow that to happen.” Says Isabelle
“Sadly they must balance public
relations and profits, lest they risk tumult and upheaval. The shepherd can lay
a heavy hand on stubborn sheep because sheep have no capacity to return his
aggression, but a manherd is not given this same luxury.” Says Stacy
“Do you really think we’re all sheep?
You keep using that word over and over again.” Says Ophelia
“We are sheep and work is our wool.”
Says Stacy
“Plenty of people are bosses and stuff;
they are kind of like the shepherds.” Says Isabelle
“This is true, but many who fancy
themselves as shepherds are but bellwethers.” Says Stacy
“They castrate the bull so that he may
better serve his master as an ox.” Says Jenna
“I wouldn’t mind seeing plenty of the
men get castrated because they couldn’t behave themselves.” Says Grace
“It used to be a proper punishment. It
fell out of favor for allegedly being inhumane in the eyes of the inhuman
sympathist. Soon all forms of punishment will be seen as inhumane, and I will
gladly welcome the era of anarchy by tolerance, for the fools that slowly sip
the poison deserve their fate as they slowly twist a once moral society into living
damnation by slowly embracing every form of sin known to man.” Says Stacy
“I think they try to tolerate the ones
that are not that bad, and still punish the bad ones.” Says Jenna
“It does not matter what is right and
wrong when the most severe form of punishment is having somebody tell you that
they are tolerant of your vices, for the only crime that is punished in that
world is intolerance, and it is punished by death at the hands of the masses
taught that intolerance was worse than vice itself.” Says Stacy
“I mean, tolerating a lot of vices
doesn’t hurt anybody. It’s not like I’m being a problem because I’m slothful
and don’t go to church.” Says Isabelle
“It is but another straw on the camel’s
back. You put yours on his back, I put mine on his back, and this continues
until we break his back.” Says Stacy
“Hanging out is sadly putting straws on
my camel’s back. I’ve got plenty of chores to do at home, so l kind of have to
get going sooner or later.” Says Jenna
“I wouldn’t mind getting out of the sun
for a bit.” Says Ophelia
“Let’s get going then, wouldn’t want to
hurt you camel.” Says Isabelle
“Tally ho.” Says Stacy, as the girls
get up and start walking towards school, waving at the foreign man as they exit
the metro grounds
“I’m still amazed that your jaw never
gets tired, Stacy.” Says Jenna
“It might, but the euphoria that moving
it induces tends to overpower any exhaustion.” Says Stacy
“You sure do love to hear yourself
talk, don’t you?” asks Jenna
“It reminds me that I’m alive. If my
mouth were a fiddle I may damn well be the devil, I do indeed love to hear that
sweet serenade of Stacy.” Says Stacy
“It’s sweet indeed. You always seem to
have the answers, never the questions.” Says Grace
“I wouldn’t qualify most of the things
she says as answers.” Says Jenna
“Of course they are. Man spends his
life asking questions that have no answer. If any question is ever answered it
is because Man fabricated an answer out of thin air and defends it with the
argument that it is difficult if not impossible to disprove despite lacking any
legitimacy because it is equally impossible to actually prove. I’m not going to
let somebody feed me their own bullshit when I’ve got a mountain of my own.”
Says Stacy
“The difference is most accepted
answers are actually hard to disprove.” Says Jenna
“If I am wrong, lay down your burden of
truth before my eyes.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think even that would change
your mind.” Says Isabelle
“Of course not, I shall defend myself
until I am forced to drink hemlock, and at that point I join the ranks of those
whose knowledge had wrought the same fate.” Says Stacy
“You are that confident in the validity
of your assertions?” asks Jenna
“I see no reason not to be. My gambit
is that my own assertions are not correctness in its purest form, but instead
relatively more so correct than those who determine the effective truth through
their heavy hand of baseless intellectual authoritarianism. While I may not be
correct, I am correct enough to be deemed a threat to their credibility. They
will likely just cast me aside and label me a loon as they always do, but I can
dream of being executed for corrupting the youth and failing to respect the
gods of the state. There is no prouder death than that of a martyr.” Says Stacy
“Why would you be proud of being
executed?” asks Ophelia
“To be executed for one’s superior
knowledge is a hero’s death, and with that I could die as proudly as I had
lived. To live proudly and die in shame is truly a tragedy.” Says Stacy
“I
think your punishment would be largely for corrupting the youth, not so much
for any superior knowledge.” Says Jenna
“I shall die a martyr none the less;
purity itself is a corrupt form of corruption. While it may be corruption in
the eyes of the corrupt, it is purification in the eyes of the pure.” Says
Stacy
“Relative corruption is also a more so corrupt
form of corruption.” Says Jenna
“I’ve enough faith in myself to believe
that my philosophy is more so pure than that of Babylon. Even if only in the
slightest, it would still be a form of purification.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure every corrupt person in
history thought that their ideals were better than their predecessors.” Says
Jenna
“And every man that was of pure heart
died farming dirt in the name of the corrupt without question.” Says Stacy
“At least he died without being to
blame for anything.” Says Jenna
“Blame is the same thing as acclaim; it
is only a matter of one’s opinion of the actions in question. If some will
blame me while others celebrate me, I will take the good with the bad rather
than the alternative of emptiness. I’d much rather accomplish something than do
nothing at all.” Says Stacy
“I’m just glad you’ve got things you
want to accomplish. It’s hard to build a skyscraper without a blueprint.” Says
Isabelle
“I can’t say I have a blueprint. For now I am simply dreaming of the towers
scraping the sky.” Says Stacy
“It’s a start, some people dream about
farming dirt, wake up, and farm dirt all day.” Says Isabelle
“It’s easier to respect those people
than it is to respect anybody who wields authority.” Says Grace
“As much as I can respect the lowly, if
a man knows how to create fire, is it not his responsibility to share such
power with his brothers who do not?” asks Stacy
“Good luck starting that fire when
every man contented with his simple life is a wet blanket that gets thrown on
such fires.” Says Jenna
“As the world becomes hotter and
desiccates, these plentiful blankets become tinder for a social arsonist like
myself.” Says Stacy
“Until that day comes, you’re out of
luck though, sadly.” Says Isabelle
“I can patiently wait, and if I die
before then, I can only hope to shout loud enough into the canyon that the echo
reaches and inspires those who wield my ken in the future.” Says Stacy
“You’re that intent on taking down
society?” asks Jenna
“I simply find heralding coups more
appealing than amalgamating into the mass grave of the nameless slaves of
Babylon.” Says Stacy
“I can understand. That is sort of a depressing
fate.” Says Isabelle
“You know you will end up in that mass
grave regardless, as a revolutionary or a slave.” Says Jenna
“You are right, but I like to think the
beautifully futile symbolism of my death is meaningful enough to somebody that
it passes the torch from my hand to theirs, for you can’t have a riot without
any torches.” Says Stacy
“That is so realistic it’s actually
touching.” Says Jenna
“It’s unfortunate that realism is
always sad.” Says Grace
“Sometimes it’s cold, dead, heartless,
and meaningless.” Says Stacy
“That’s even worse.” Says Ophelia
“Don’t let a pebble hear you say that.”
Jokes Stacy
“I figure every death is symbolic of
futility, no matter the lifeform it spent its entire life trying to stay alive
just to die in the end.” Says Isabelle
“If you think of lifeforms as parallels
to biological cells, as long as they replicated successfully then dying is a
natural part of successful succession.” Says Jenna
“It’s kind of beautiful that even the
industrialists were replicating nature with their fondness of replaceable parts.”
Says Stacy
“It’s kind of sad that mechanical
efficiency can be sourced from nature, it makes you think that nature could
actually be the same sort of destructive force for the planet that the
industrial revolution was.” Says Grace
“It is, for the most part. Nature is an
opportunist that sustains itself by incessantly lowering the potential chemical
energy of the dead sphere of stardust that it infects. It would be physically
impossible for life to exist without doing so. Though the planet may not end up
entirely ravished, nature would consume the earth until it could no longer
sustain itself if given enough time, just as the industrialists will. Humans
just happen to raise this entropic consumption to an unnaturally extreme rate.”
Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure nature was always good
at sustaining itself through recycling.” Says Jenna
“Yeah, I’ve never heard about nature
destroying the planet.” Says Ophelia
“It would take a long time, but unless
every chemical reaction that lowered potential energy was biologically reversed
by an analogue of photosynthesis, the potential energy is lost forever, and
that is akin to man’s consumption of unrenewable resources. Perhaps the sun
would engulf the planet before the wilds sucked her dry, but a rock cannot roll
down a hill if it rests at the bottom. Says Stacy
“From what I know, plants can
reassemble fairly inert chemicals like nitrogen gas by harnessing sunshine. If
there was a benefit necessary for the survival of the plant, I’m sure they
would have figured out how to do it, otherwise they wouldn’t be alive right
now.” Says Jenna
“Sure, it is an ebb and flow, there is
simply more ebb than flow. If you think about it as if the earth were a beaker,
even without life if everything got mixed together, all of the reactions that
could possibly happen would happen until there are no more possible reactions
and everything ends up in its least reactive form or at least something close
to it. The chemical energy is released as heat, and unless there is something
recycling the heat our bodies emanate, then we are slowly chemically burning
the planet to heat death. Even though this would happen without us, I’m just
saying that all life increases the rate at which we burn the planet.” Says
Stacy
“I can see your point. Nature is like a
beautiful chemical fire that is burning away at the planet, even though it
tries to sustain itself out of its own tendencies this is physically
impossible. I wouldn’t compare nature to industry though, it’s like saying
pitch flowing out of a funnel is comparable to gasoline that is on fire being
poured through a nearly identical funnel.” Says Jenna
“Man goes up to heaven and meets Mother
Earth; she asks why he has destroyed the planet. He says 'I learned from
watching you’.” Says Grace
“Of course he does. If knights ride
horses, men ride scapegoats.” Says Stacy
“It does feel like life is kind of like
being pitch in a funnel, moving so slowly, with nothing happening.” Says
Isabelle
“In that allegory people were
technically the gasoline that’s on fire, but I suppose that mentality is part
of the reason why we were dissatisfied of the life of pitch and chose instead
the life of burning gasoline.” Says Jenna
“I like it. Getting beaten with the
stick of inescapable reality is kind of pleasurable. Some call it a cage, but I
can escape into my mind. I like to think of it as a blanket, when I reach out
and touch these rock solid walls and feel their physicality, the fluid rigidity
of their imposing reality is sensually seductive. A minute is going to scratch my
back the same way every time unless I’m asleep, and it’s comforting knowing
that I’m not going to blink and wake up twenty years later laden with regrets. I
would be disgusted if I could take a 14 hour flight across the world and my
experience was reduced to a montage of a basket of seconds or the time it takes
to read a paragraph. That would be 14 hours I lost that I could have used to
ride through the wilds of my mind hunting ideas and euphorigenic fantasies.”
Says Stacy
“Sadly those twenty years have passed
by in the blink of an eye for most people, and plenty of them are quite full of
regrets. Your life is slowly reduced to a montage of your memories as you age,
and the fourteen hours of fantasies is dust in the wind that yields not even a
sandcastle.” Says Isabelle
“They still got the chance to live
them, that’s the important part. Nothing is capable of altering the passage of
time, regardless of however one might interpret it. Time is a lovely lady that
loves to dance, and she demands that you lead her every second of the way. Even
if you choose to skulk on the wall and bob your head until the music tops, she
will be there bobbing alongside you. To have a lifelong partner that can read
your mind and dance forever with you, echoing your passion, fervor, and grace
is truly a feeling of being loved. Time is the only one who will always be by
your side, from birth until death, and she loves you enough to dance
passionately with you until you die.” Says Stacy
“A lot of people feel burdened by the
hands of time forcing them to dance until they collapse from exhaustion. I
suppose it’s a matter of taste though.” Says Grace
“I didn’t expect something that
beautiful to come from you, Stacy. I also like dancing with time.” Says Ophelia
“Only a fool looks a gift horse in the
mouth, it may be exhausting but that cannot allow you to forsake the natural
pleasure of dancing.” Says Stacy
“Since everyone is forced to dance, it
really makes sense that you should at least try to enjoy it.” Says Jenna
“I think its human nature to do that.
Even in the poorest countries on earth people find a way to be happy despite
the hardships life has brought them.” Says Isabelle
“In the face of death, we dance, for if
we do not we are already as good as dead.” Says Grace, grabbing Ophelia’s hand,
placing a hand on her hips and cutely twirls the girl
“And Dance we shall, with time and life
through their wild twists and turns and dips and throws, and if death himself
asks us for a dance, we oblige him merrily, for simply dancing does not ensure
that we lay down with the man at the end of the night.” Says Stacy
“Death tends to demand the dances, and
you’ve got to be sure to dance like your life depends on it.” Says Jenna
“You should dance like your life
depends on it because it does indeed depend on it. You should always dance like
your life depends on it, whether dancing the jig of living or tango with death;
your life is but the dance you dance with time and her children.” Says Stacy
“We don’t really tend to dance that
much, sadly.” Says Ophelia
“Every action is a dance, whether it
seems to be the case or not. It falls into rhythm with predictable repetition
and allows ample room for improvisation.” Says Stacy
“I’ll dance with you.” Says Grace, as
she playfully tangos with Ophelia down the street
“This is more like it.” Says Ophelia,
enjoying herself
“I don’t think talking really qualifies
as dancing, even in your allegory, Stacy.” Says Jenna
“I like to think of it as asking for
the dance. You ask, and then you dance.” Says Stacy
“I would think you’re the kind of girl
that just rips your partner away from whatever they were doing and dances
forcefully with them.” Says Isabelle
“If the time comes were my passion for
dancing becomes so insatiable, that may well become a motif in my life.” Says
Stacy
“You can talk the talk, but we all need
to see if you can walk the walk.” Says Isabelle
“To walk my walk I must walk for
thousands of miles on the corpses of millions of men. It takes time to pave
such streets.” Says Stacy
“That is frightening, Stacy.” Says
Jenna
“Their sacrifices will not be in vain,
for the men who willingly sacrifice their lives for me shall be venerated, and
those that do not shall be sacrificed by my hand.” Says Stacy
“Even more frightening.” Says Jenna
“I like it. I think she’s got what it
takes to make it. Nobody ever won a war with smiles and fruit baskets.” Says
Isabelle
“It’s a little upsetting to think of it
like that.” Says Jenna
“These streets are paved with the
corpses of slaves, I see no harm in letting a slave go home to his family and
using the corpse of a degenerate instead. A slave is worthy of the honor of
labor and the pleasure of living, I cannot say the same for those unwilling to
achieve the lowest possible expectations of a man.” Says Stacy
“Sympathy for everyone tends to be a
popular sentiment.” Says Jenna
“I’ll be sure to sympathize with
tuberculosis, syphilis, and leprosy and spare the lives of these innocent
living creatures the next time anybody seeks to commit ethnic cleansing inside
of their body in the name of genetic intolerance.” Says Stacy
“You would say that bacteria have an
ethnicity?” asks Jenna
“I thought you were the tolerant one
here, clearly they all come from different cultures and their traditions are
quite distinct. We should respect all cultures, Jenna.” Says Stacy,
matter-of-factly
“I want to laugh, but the context kind
of ruins the joke.” Says Jenna
“The poor bacteria look at humans and
think, ‘we’re not so different’, but humans still want to eradicate them. First
they come for the tuberculosis and the syphilis, and then they come for the
communists, and then they come for the Jews. You know how that works.” Says
Stacy
“They might go for the communists before
the tuberculosis and leprosy to be honest.” Says Isabelle
“It’s hard to triage such infectious
diseases properly; I can understand their decision making.” Says Stacy
“I was expecting an eagle to fly
overhead and cry proudly, I’m a bit let down.” Says Jenna
“It was there in spirit.” Says Stacy
“God bless America.” Says Isabelle
“Amen.” Says Stacy
“Sadly, I think we’ve got to part ways
here. I was truly a pleasure.” Says Isabelle, as the girls reach inevitable the
fork in the road that splits the destinies of the youth.
Grace hugs Ophelia firmly and nuzzles
her face amorously, already struck by longing “I’ll see you soon.” She whispers
into her friend’s ear
Ophelia
returns the affection in playful innocence “Of course.” She says happily
“That’s enough.” Says Isabelle, Grace
lets go of Ophelia, running her hand down her friend’s arm, holding her hand
for a moment more and amorously looking into her eyes.
“You must want a hug too, Isabelle.”
Says Ophelia, as she hugs Isabelle, who loosely hugs her despite her discomfort
and pats her on the back. “Stacy and Jenna need hugs too!” Says Ophelia,
letting go of Isabelle
“I’ll settle for a handshake.” Says
Stacy, a bit embarrassed showing no interest in such things
“Same here.” Says Jenna, also embarrassed
“Put here there.” Says Isabelle, back
to enjoying herself, reaching for the shake
“Quite the treat, you are a gracious
hostess.” Says Stacy, shaking firmly and sincerely
“Colorful company is always
appreciated. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” Says Isabelle
“Of course. Thanks again.” Says Stacy
“Take care of yourself.” Says Jenna,
holding Isabelle’s hand with two hands, and patting it
“You too.” Says Isabelle
“She always does.” Jokes Stacy. “It was
a pleasure, Grace.” Says Stacy, shaking her hand cracking a smirk
“The pleasure was all mine.” Says Grace
sincerely
“I’m sure it was.” Says Jenna,
embarrassed by that thought
“I hope you enjoyed yourself too,
though.” Says Grace
“Of course I did. Quite the experience,
but no worse for wear.” Says Jenna, a bit exasperated
“That’s good. I’m glad the chaos didn’t
rattle you too much.” Says Isabelle
“Oh, it was nothing. Tranquility,
almost.” Says Jenna
“Cheers to more tranquility on the
horizon, lassies.” Says Isabelle
“Cheers.” Says Stacy, as she winks and playfully
salutes the departing with her usual two fingered salute, they wave and
exchange final good byes as they walk off, the three continue their journey
mutually homeward.
“I am kind of amazed we became fast
friends like that.” Says Jenna
“The discontented easily find comfort
in the company of their own kind.” Says Stacy
“I had so much fun, those girls are so
nice.” Says Ophelia
“Grace really seems to like you.”
Teases Stacy
“She’s super friendly and playful, just
like me. It’s no wonder we get along so well.” Says Ophelia
“You understand that she really likes you, though, right?” asks
Jenna
“Of course, I mean I really like her too. She is the only one
I’ve met who is willing to teach me things about love, you girls just shoot me
down every time. It’s nice to finally have somebody to talk about that stuff
with. Even if she doesn’t believe in it as much as I do, she still knows a
whole lot about it.” Says Ophelia, indignantly imitating Jenna’s tone
“I don’t even want to know what that
is.” Jokes Stacy
“You will become mature like me one day
and understand the importance of love. You’re still so young at heart, like a
child.” Teases Ophelia
“You got me.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think she took thinks a bit
too far? I don’t even want to know what happened after we left you two alone.”
Says Jenna
“What? No. She’s the only one that
takes it far enough. She taught me a bunch of great tips about boys and kissing
and stuff. I would feel so embarrassed if I had no clue what to do when I
finally get into that situation.” Says Ophelia
“So you really think she likes boys?”
asks Stacy
“Of course, who doesn’t? We’re both
lovers at heart, even if she doesn’t want to admit it. I think she just hasn’t
met the right person yet. Why else would she know all of that stuff if she
didn’t really want love deep down?” says Ophelia
“You don’t think she might just want to
love you?” asks Jenna
“I totally love her too, she’s amazing.
As much as I love you two and Grace and Isabelle, it’s not the same as romance.
A person needs both you know.” Says Ophelia
“I wouldn’t put romance too high on my
list of necessities.” Says Stacy
“Clearly. You realize she loves you in
a different way than we do, right?” asks Jenna
“Well, we’re all different and love in
different ways, so everybody has their own unique way of doing it. That’s the
best part.” Says Ophelia
“As long as you’re ok with the way she
loves you, I think it’s cute.” Says Stacy
“Of course, who doesn’t enjoy being
loved? The playful kind is way more fun than the handholding and advice you two
give me. You two try to treat me like a child, but she treats me like an adult.
Not that I don’t appreciate you two trying to look out for me, it’s just nice
to have something different.” Says Ophelia
“You don’t think she did anything weird
or inappropriate?” asks Jenna
“You can’t think that talking about
romance is weird or inappropriate forever, Jenna. You have to open up to the
world at some point.” Says Ophelia
“She seemed to enjoy a bit more than
talking with you.” Jokes Stacy
“We were just doing normal stuff that
friends do. I like to learn that kind of stuff when I can.” Says Ophelia
“We are friends who do normal stuff,
but not some of the things Grace likes to do. You catch my drift?” asks Jenna
“Well, us three are more like buddies, where
Grace and I are more like friends. She says Isabelle is more of her buddy
because she doesn’t like romance, so I guess it’s something to do with
maturity.” Says Ophelia
“You are ok with being her friend like
that?” asks Jenna
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be happy to
be somebody’s friend?” Says Ophelia
“I’m happy to be your buddy, even if
I’m not your friend. I am glad you found a friend though.” Says Stacy
“Of course your my friend, you’ve
always been my friend, it’s just like types of friends, friend friends and
buddy friends.” Says Ophelia
“I’m glad we have established the
grounds of buddy friends and friend friends, I didn’t know how much Grace had
rubbed off on her.” Says Jenna,
Stacy laughs
“That’s shameless.” Says Jenna
“You’re words not mine.” Says Stacy
“You two really should find some friend
friends, I would do it but I don’t really know enough about romance and being
an adult to teach you about it.” Says Ophelia
“That’s good. Let’s stay buddy friends
forever. Please, I don’t even want any friend friends like that..” Says Stacy
“Yes. Buddy friends forever.” Says
Jenna
“Ok. You still have to grow up one day,
but I’m not going to force you.” Teases Ophelia
“Thank god.” Says Stacy
“I still feel like we’re beating around
the bush a little bit.” Says Jenna
“You’re trying to defuse a time-bomb
that is likely impossible to defuse and will explode if you tamper with it the
wrong way. I would just enjoy the time we still have on the clock. Who knows,
it might just keep ticking forever and never explode.” Says Stacy
“I see your point.” Says Jenna
“You girls are the time-bombs; it’s
only a matter of time until you blossom into lovers like me.” Says Ophelia
“While we’re on the subject of defusing
time-bombs, you girls know you’re spending the night at my house tonight,
right?” asks Stacy
“I don’t know if my parents will let me
stay out two nights in a row.” Says Jenna
“Tell them you have to help me and
Ophelia study; my sister will probably be there so you can tell them you can
get help from here. It is imperative that you both come tonight.” Says Stacy
“Why? I don’t really want to study on a
Saturday night.” Says Ophelia
“We are going to deal with this.” Says
Stacy, holding up her hand showing the girls the ominously blood red ring
“As much as I don’t like it, I will try
my best to come.” Says Jenna
“I have to go to church tomorrow, but
I’m sure my parents will let me come if I tell them we are studying, they know
how smart Stella and Jenna are.” Says Ophelia
“Good. Otherwise Mr. Dog will be having
Stacy for breakfast tomorrow and nobody wants that.” Says Stacy
“What exactly are we going to do about
it?” asks Ophelia
“We are going to do exactly as we were
told to do.” Says Stacy
“Are we going to do something super
good to make it glow white like it should?” asks Ophelia
“Of course.” Says Stacy
“Hooray!” says Ophelia
“I really don’t want to know, but do
you have something in mind?” asks Jenna
“You get to watch me transform, so let
your imagination run wild from there.” Says Stacy
“Awesome! Did you really learn to do
it?” asks Ophelia
“I can put that silly dress on, yes. I
really can’t transform other than that though.” Says Stacy
“Aww. It’s still a cute outfit though.”
Says Ophelia
“The idea of you needing a costume
scares me, but I’m going to try and put my faith in you.” Says Jenna
“That’s all I can ask.” Says Stacy
“Of course she needs a costume, we have
to keep our magical lives and our normal lives separate, remember?” says
Ophelia
“I could never forget that. Very, very
separate.” Says Jenna
“Good. You wouldn’t want people finding
out and then ruin your life.” Says Ophelia
“My sentiments exactly.” Says Stacy, as
the girls stop at their parting crossroads
“I will mentally prepare myself for
tonight. It’s kind of like going up a rollercoaster before the first big drop
right now.” Says Jenna
“Well, let’s just try to enjoy the
ride, shall we?” asks Stacy
“How could we not? We’re super awesome
love witches.” Says Ophelia
“Rollercoasters can be pretty scary.”
Says Jenna
“Well, it doesn’t really matter when
you’re trapped on the ride, does it?” asks Stacy
“No, I guess it doesn’t.” says Jenna
“It would be great if we could ride it
all the time and be helpful witches instead of having to go to boring school
all day.” Says Ophelia
“There might be boring parts, but we
really can’t get off. The ride never ends.” Says Stacy
“Sadly that is the most optimistic
viewpoint possible.” Says Jenna
“I just think it would be better
without the boring parts.” Says Ophelia
“Let’s just hope you always feel that
way. My life depends on your help, after all.” Says Stacy
“Of course I will, doing good things as
a love witch is like my calling. It feels amazing to help people like that,
like a gift from god.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not quite a love witch, but close
enough I guess.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know what you are exactly, but
you can be like the love cat or something because you don’t have a witch
outfit.” Says Ophelia
“Love Cat, I like it. Kitty the Love
Cat.” Says Stacy
“So cute!” says Ophelia
“I’m glad you’re going to use that
name.” says Jenna
“I’m certainly not going to use Stacy.
I need as much distance between myself and my double life as possible.” Says
Stacy
“I will try to savor what moments of my
normal life I have left today. I’m even excited about doing chores.” Says Jenna
“That’s so silly. I can’t wait to go
out tonight, as much as I like hanging out, it’s nothing like the thrill of
transforming and doing magic.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll let you get to your chores, I
know you can’t wait. Savor them. I’ll see you girls tonight.” Says Stacy
“Thanks. I’ll be praying that things go
well tonight.” Says Jenna
“If we end up relying on a wing and a
prayer, I will feel like I didn’t do my job.” Says Stacy
“We don’t even have wings.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m flying high right now. Let just
hope I’m the ace I believe myself to be.” Says Stacy
“I have an unsettling amount of faith
in that.” Says Jenna
“Well, we’re either uncomfortable or dead;
I’ll pick the former any day of the week.” Says Stacy
“I’m there with you.” Says Jenna,
distantly, discomforted by her certainty in such an unavoidably disagreeable
decision
“Ta-ta for now.” Says Stacy, smiling at
her friends with suicidal heroicism as she walks into the engulfing glare of
the afternoon sun
“Ta-ta.” The girls say as Stacy walks
away
Stacy absentmindedly pilots her boney
puppet down the fate trodden path. The quiet streets massage the sound of her
breathing and heartbeat into her mind, the fanciful fantasies of pleasant incredulousness
ravaged by the meaty beating of blood and bellows of breath. The inescapable
prison of bones and tendons that encircles her dream hat sensually massages
reminders its own fragile mortality into the haughty ghost of the godking that
reigns heavy-handedly over the damned puppet. This reality repels her sense of
self into a third person perspective watching the young girl amble down the
street shaking sillily as it attempts to pointlessly shake off its own
mortality as if such a curse were but water on the coat of a dog. The true
narcissism of each ghost that haunts such a haunt and claims it as its own is
pleased by the body, for each of them, even Stacy, know that when the fleshy
soul urn is shattered they will simply be loosed on the world and damned to
search once more for pastimes and pleasure.
Insufflating the depersonalization, the
following euphoric high of indifference to the walking corpse leaves nothing
but appreciation. The dancing ghosts are artistically aroused by the consensual
mutual insanity of the beast and its inhabitants, as the insanity loves them
warmly and intoxicates them merrily while reality is cold, sober, and abusive.
Were the native ghost and her compatriots not so polite, they would perhaps
have ruthlessly abused reality in a fervent reciprocal loathing, but instead
they simply turn their nose up and pity such a woman shackled by her own
natural inhibition. Stacy’s ghost wraps her arms around the beast, and smells
her deeply, aroused by what she deems to be nothing more than a tight piece of
ass that is conditioned to enjoy being ravaged thoroughly by the insanity of
its ghastly pilot. The pompously misanthropic ghost is largely asexual due to
such disdain for the species, but narcissism easily fills this void, to the
point where the ghost’s love of itself and is nearly a perpetual euphoric
orgasm.
The ghost gooses the ass of the
strutter she adores before returning to its dark castle in the skull, amorously
holding the beast, stroking it lovingly and comforting its fears. The warm
embrace flavored by the mutual infatuation with competitively sadistic suicide,
less out of indignation that the beast had damned itself through its own folly,
and more so simply through vehement abhorrence of the race of man. The fate of
death is seductively pleasuring, for the depersonalized beast sees even its own
demise as a selfless act of pure good, for none are spared from such loathing.
The sickness sees to it that sadism is the strategy of redressing this
sentiment, for her carnal lust for bloodshed is complimented by her eyes that
gaze upon every soul as a vengeant and damning god does. This feeling is holy,
as if an angel had possessed a nameless demon and began to mercilessly slay the
legion it had once marched in unison with, the angel purifying and redeeming
the wicked cognizance of the demon and ushering it unto salvation. Stacy is
finally home, and smiles as she enters her house.
“Hey Dad.” Says Stacy
“Howdy-ho.” He says
“You’ve been well I hope?” asks Stacy
“Yep. Still stuck in the well. People
always want to help a small child that is stuck in a well, but nobody gives a
damn if old Dale spends the rest of his life down here.” He says
“At least you’ve got plenty to drink.”
Says Stacy
“Cheers to that. Television’s not bad
down here either.” He says
“That’s good. Don’t drown on me
though.” Jokes Stacy
“If the drink is at my lips it’s surely
being drank before it fills my nose. At that rate there’s no way I can drown.”
He says
“Keep on trucking with that.” Says
Stacy
“You know I couldn’t stop drinking even
if I tried.” He says
“That’s better than drowning though.”
Says Stacy
“That’s for damn sure.” He says
“I’ll be upstairs, holler if you need
me.” Says Stacy
“Roger Wilco.” He says as Stacy goes
upstairs
Stacy goes into her room, Stella is
reading a book on her bed.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
Says Stella
“I could say the same thing myself.”
Says Stacy, changing out of her uniform
“I take it you’re talking about seeing
yourself.” Says Stella
“You know I missed you.” Says Stacy
“Really?” asks Stella
“Of course. This mask is killing my
face, it’s good to be able to take it off.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to wear one with your
friends, too, huh?” asks Stella
“It’s that social cognizance thing,
where you’re aware of your actions and you have to think about them a little
bit. It’s quite tiring.” Says Stacy, falling onto her bed
“You couldn’t be bothered to do me that
honor?” asks Stella
“You take me the way I am, I don’t want
to put on a show if I don’t have to.” Says Stacy
“I didn’t know I had a choice in
flavors.” Says Stella
“You don’t. That’s the beauty of it
all.” Says Stacy
“Thanks.” Says Stella
“Did you do anything?” asks Stacy
“I hung out with some friends from
student council, that’s about it.” Says Stella
“That’s cool.”Says Stacy
“You have fun?” asks Stella
“Of course. I thoroughly pleasured
myself with sadomasochism.” Says Stacy
“That was how you had fun?” asks Stella
“That is what fun is. It is enjoying
yourself by torturing yourself and others through your neglect of
responsibilities while being incredulous to the eventual repercussions of such
negligence.” Says Stacy
“That sounds about right.” Says Stella
“You’ve never been big on fun have
you?” asks Stacy
“What can I say; I guess I’m not much
of a sadomasochist.” Says Stella
“Of course, pleasure is but a foolish
pleasure, after all.” Says Stacy
“What do you plan on doing today,
nothing I presume?” Says Stella
“I wish. Sadly I must ride the plot
horse tonight.” Says Stacy
“What does that entail?” asks Stella
“Tragedy.” Says Stacy
“Tragic. I wanted to keep on being
carefree but it only took you a few minutes to sow seeds of trees that yield
befraughtening fruit, and such seeds have sprouted, matured, and blossomed in
an instant. Now I must acknowledge the inescapable aroma of such an ominous
orchard.” Says Stella
“You can look back in twenty years and
say that today was simply the perfect time to plant such an orchard.” Says
Stacy
“If only it took so long for those
sickening trees to come to fruition.” Says Stella
“I’m the one riding the damn plot
horse, you should be happy it’s not you.” Says Stacy
“You clearly don’t understand the part
of the tragedy where the protagonist dies and the supporting characters are
struck with grief.” Says Stella
“The only tragedy is that I’ve got to
ride the damn horse. It’s sad that I can’t just lather myself in shits and
giggles like every other girl out there.” Says Stacy
“The palpable stupidity of that
supposed reason is literally painful to think about. I am at a loss for words
to be honest.” Says Stella
“This is not a fucking joke, Stella.”
Says Stacy, raising her hand, her ring still an ominously dark blood red.
“After tonight you will at least believe me.” Says Stacy
“How could that possibly be true?” says
Stella
“I don’t want to tell you this, but I
don’t really have a choice. The girls are coming over tonight, and we’re all
damned to the same fate.” Says Stacy
“The fate of having a mood ring?” asks
Stella
“That is a fair way to put it. It’s not
our mood though. It is that of our damnator.” Says Stacy
“What did he do to you again?” asks
Stella
“He turned us into witches. At least
Jenna and Ophelia, they can magically transform and get these silly costumes
and do magic.” Says Stacy
“Jesus Christ. Usually your insanity
isn’t that ridiculous.” Says Stella
“I don’t want to believe this shit
either, neither does Jenna, but they will show you tonight, it’s quite the
spectacle.” Says Stacy
“Why can’t you transform and get a
silly costume and do magic then?” asks Stella sarcastically
“I don’t know why I can’t transform,
but my magic is like a vivid radar for bad things and evil and endless thoughts
of how to fight it. It is terrible.” Says Stacy
“Explain this getting magic part; I am
stupefied enough that I want to at least hear this story.” Says Stella
“Well, we met a talking dog and he let
us wish for magical powers. Ophelia chose love, Jenna chose helpfulness
reluctantly, I wanted omnipotence, but he couldn’t give me that, so I said
omniscience and this is what he gave me.” Says Stacy
“That sounds exactly like you, but somehow
you don’t just know everything now or whatever? God damn this is stupid.” Says
Stella
“I wasn’t paying attention and he
phrased it as giving us magic to do good and fight evil, so I can only use the
omniscience to do good and fight evil. That is my understanding of it at
least.” Says Stacy
“I want to die, just because the story
was so fucking stupid yet somehow it is the reason why I have been permanently
scarred mentally by your insanity. It is soul crushing.” Says Stella
“You know I’m not that kind of crazy.
God damn it Stella. The only reason this happened is because I didn’t believe
in this sort of shit and now I’ve got some blood debt to a magical fucking dog.
You will believe me tonight, trust me.” Says Stacy
“I really fucking want to. There is a
sliver of foolish hope in my heart that you are telling the truth, but seeing
you become this crazy and have your life fall apart is literally fucking
killing me.” Says Stella
“Then just do it. Just say fuck it.
Believe me. It will comfort you to no end, and I don’t want to spend the rest
of the afternoon with you wanting to die and hating me, so just believe me and
sympathize with my predicament.” Says Stacy
“That is literally the path of least resistance
right now and it is so fucking tempting. I would hate myself for not trying to
talk sense into you, but god damn it, it is so fucking easy to take your word
for it and write it off as some unfortunate twist of fate and sympathize with
you. Maybe I’m going just as crazy as you are. Fuck me.” Says Stella
“I wouldn’t tell you this shit if it
wasn’t the truth. I don’t have the intelligence and imagination of a small
child. You don’t even have to believe me; you can just not give a fuck for a
few hours until the girls show up and then draw your conclusion then.” Says
Stacy
Stella looks down at her wrist “Oh,
would you look at the time; it’s time to not give a fuck, how convenient.” She
says
“I’m glad you have that watch.” Says
Stacy
“It is an indispensable resource.” Says
Stella
“Most people can just look at the sun
in the sky or something.” Says Stacy
“What can I say; I like to have an
accurate measurement.” Says Stella
“Of course.” Says Stacy
“I am almost enjoying this predicament
as it is almost intoxicatingly nonsensical.” Says Stela
“Enjoy, be merry. Why make an effort to
feel the negative feelings?” says Stacy
“Seeing how they change nothing about
the predicament, it makes sense to completely ignore that urge.” Says Stella
“I’m glad you see the light.” Says
Stacy
“Oh yes, the consumptive darkness of
insanity that is otherwise known as the light.” Says Stella
“You know I love being crazy, and
seeing how I literally hate this predicament. It logically makes sense that
it’s not me being crazy.” Says Stacy
“That is startlingly logical. That has
created a logical paradox in my brain, but I’m just going to walk away, smiling
and incredulous to everything.” Says Stella
“Awesome.” Says Stacy
“I’m just going to go back to reading
and keep on not giving a fuck.” Says Stella
“Atta girl.” Says Stacy
“I’m not a dog or a child, but I’ll
take it.” Says Stella, going back to reading, Stacy closes her eyes as she
still lays on her bed in the following silence
“Stella, I know you’re upset, but I
just need to know if you’ll have my back, the dog and Bay City are already
itching to put me in the ground, I don’t want you to be on that list.” Says
Stacy
“I don’t want to kill you; I am upset
because it is painful watching you become this crazy. I still love you dearly,
and don’t want anything bad to happen to you, I just don’t know how I can help
you in that regard.” Says Stella
“It’s kind of me against the world, and
as long as you side with me instead of the world, I’ll love you forever. All
I’m asking is for you to look out for my best interests over those of other
people who really don’t like me.” Says Stacy
“I will always have your best interests
at heart; it is using those intentions to produce meaningful results that I am
worried about.” Says Stella
“Don’t worry about the results; just
being on my side is the most meaningful result you can produce. Damn near every
organized body that induces social conditioning, be it lawful or illicit, will
likely want me dead in due time. My only defense is my anonymity, and as long
as you do your damnedest to keep that intact you will be saving my life.” Says
Stacy
“I’m glad you plan on making friends
with everybody, but you can sleep soundly knowing I won’t tell a soul about
this part of you. I don’t want to know what you plan on doing, but they will
kill me before I speak a word of it, no torture could compare to the pain and
embarrassment of having your insanity exposed to the public and the prejudice
cast upon me as your identical twin. Some foolish part of me hopes you aren’t crazy,
because I am scared for my own sake that I end up like you one day.” Says
Stella
“That is a foolish part of you indeed,
like a schizophrenic wishing that his hallucinatory demons took physical form
and fulfilled their threats upon his life.” Says Stacy
“You understand they believe that sort
of thing is true, right?” says Stella
“They don’t have a magical ring
though.” Says Stacy
“Sorry, I forgot that the presence or
absence of a mood ring is what determines whether or not a lunatic is sane or
not.” Says Stella
“In my case, sadly it does. I’m not
going to press the issue, but unfortunately you don’t have much time left to be
incredulous to these things, enjoy your last afternoon free of shellshock.”
Says Stacy
“You’re that confident?” asks Stella
“Sadly.” Says Stacy
“I’m waiting here as a soldier eager to
storm the front lines.” Says Stella
“That’s my job; you’ve got to be the
mess management specialist or something. I was just a bit worried about a
mutiny on board when all hell breaks loose.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you picked a suitable job for
me, which really isn’t any different than what I do now surprisingly. Don’t
worry about any mutiny either; it’s common knowledge that the chef always goes
down with the ship.” Says Stella
“I never should have questioned your
loyalty. I’m glad to have you onboard. Now that things are all in order, all
that’s left to do is let go and haul.” Says Stacy
“Aye, aye, captain.” jokes Stella
“You’ve just go to keep the crew in
high spirits and it should be smooth sailing from here on out.” Says Stacy
“I have absolutely no faith in that
statement, but I’ll do my part.” says Stella
“I have no faith in it either, but why
would I ruin the tranquility of the calm before the storm.” Say
“Are we going to sing shanties now?”
jokes Stella, entertained by the theme
“So we’ll r-o-oll the old chariot
along!” Sings Stacy
“We’ll roll the golden chariot along!”
Echoes Stella
“So we’ll r-o-ll the old chariot
along!” Sing Stacy
“And we’ll all hang on behind!” Sings
Stella
“Reaping souls of the damned wouldn’t do
us any harm!” Sings Stacy
“Jesus Christ.” Says Stella
“You’ve got to have faith in the
shantyman.” Says Stacy
“What happened to a drink and a smoke?”
asks Stella
“You can go sing shanties with dad if
you want that line. You don’t drink or smoke anyways.” Says Stacy
“That’s true. I’ve always thought of it
as an ironic line.” Says Stella
“It is. I suppose when you’re as far
gone as he is it really wouldn’t do him any harm.” Says Stacy
“It all adds up, but I understand
there’s nothing I can do for him.” says Stella
“I just try to keep him in high
spirits.” Says Stacy
“I appreciate that. Somehow that sort
of thing comes naturally to you. You’re not really going to sing that line are
you?” Says Stella
“I like it, what do you suggest?” asks
Stacy
“High spirits in our glass?” asks
Stella
“That’s still drinking. I think all of
dads were about drinking.” Says Stacy
“A nice Cuban cigar?” asks Stella
“Maybe one day. That’s pretty classy.
You know you can just make up what you want.” Says Stacy
“A drop of sanity?” asks Stella
“As long as we get a pint of lunacy.”
Says Stacy
“I will probably need it if I’m on your
ship.” Says Stella
“You can mix in some sanity to taste. I
wouldn’t want to ruin the sweetness of lunacy though.” Says Stacy
“I can understand. Just being around
you is making me lose my mind, but it’s kind of in a good way. It’s comforting that your response to having
death supposedly breathing down your neck is to sing shanties.” Says Stella
“Even the soundest ship sails on seas
that have drowned millions of men. The only thing that separates the two crews
is staying afloat.” Says Stacy
“Let’s stay afloat then.” Says Stella
“I plan on it.” Says Stacy
“Good.” Says Stella
“I’ll try to give you some peace and
quiet. I’m going to try to catch a wink of sleep and conserve my energy.” Says
Stacy
“I’ve never seen you run out of
energy.” Says Stella
“I just don’t want to chance it.” Says
Stacy
“Have at it.” Says Stella
The timeherd milks a delicious while
from the teats of his lonely immortal companion. It is a quiet while. Stacy
eventually sits up after trying to sleep.
“Stella, so, something happened, with
all of this, and now something has been bothering me for some odd reason, I kind
of want to talk to you about it.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know how I can possibly help
you with whatever aspect of your delirium is bothering you.” Says Stella
“It’s not that. It’s just that I’ve
never kissed anyone and I kind of want to know what it feels like before I
die.” Says Stacy, reluctantly embarrassed
“Are you planning on dying tonight?”
asks Stella
“It’s not in my plans, but things don’t
always go according to plan.” Says Stacy
“Go kiss one of your girlfriends if it
bothers you that much.” Says Stella
“That’s kind of weird; I don’t want to
have that sort of thing complicating our friendship.” Says Stacy
“It’s not that weird.” Says Stella
“I don’t want them to get the wrong
idea, we’ve got an important quasi-co-worker relationship and that sort of
silliness could easily get taken the wrong way.” Says Stacy
“So how about you just don’t die
tonight and deal with your unfulfilled dreams some other day.” Says Stella
“I wish I could promise that, but
tonight is going to be like my maiden voyage and I don’t know for sure if the
ship will float or not.” Says Stacy
“I’m not so dense that I don’t know
what you’re hinting at, but it’s pretty weird.” Says Stella
“You just said it wasn’t weird, it’s
just practice anyways. You are the only one I can ask because I know you won’t
tell anybody. It’s just been haunting me lately is all.” Says Stacy
“Fine, but no tongue or anything.” Says
Stella, reluctantly, Stacy gets up and crawls onto Stella’s bed
“Ready?”
asks Stacy, nervously
“I guess.” Says Stella, she closes her
eyes and puckers her lips. Stacy massages the stiff lips softly with her own
for a couple of seconds before Stella begins to emulate the caress slowly. As
the mutual gap between their lips widens, Stacy slips her tongue through the
breach and lick’s her partner’s tongue. Stella draws back, startled. “I said no
tongue.” She says, a bit embarrassed and blushing
“Thanks for that.” Says Stacy
“I didn’t expect that much from you; it
got my heart racing a little bit.” Says Stella
“Yeah, me too. Did you like it?” Says
Stacy, starting to blush
“Surprisingly it did feel pretty good,
even coming from you.” Says Stella
“I also liked it, even though I didn’t
think I would be into that stuff.” Says Stacy
“I think it’s just a human endorphin
sort of deal.” Says Stella
“Probably. We can try again if you want.”
Says Stacy
“I’m not trying to fulfill all of your
dreams, be happy with that one. You already took it a bit too far.” Says Stella,
taken aback
“Sorry about that. That was kind of an impulse;
it did feel good though, better than I expected. Thanks again.” Says Stacy who
pecks her sister on the cheek and falls down on back her own bed satisfied
“Who would have thought that you were a
lover at heart?” teases Stella
“I just didn’t want to die without at
least getting that far.” Says Stacy
“Do you really think it counts if it’s just
with me?” asks Stella
“At this point I’ll take what I can
get. It felt like it counted, the feeling at least.” Says Stacy
"I just hope you don’t want any
more than that, it was pretty embarrassing.” Says Stella
“I was embarrassed too, but it’s not
like anybody will find out. That’s why I chose you.” Says Stacy
“You wouldn’t let your friends think
you had any sort of interest in that thing, would you?” asks Stella
“Absolutely not, I’m pretty sure my
motif is heartlessness.” Says Stacy
“That’s so sad.” Jokes Stella
“If you have a heart, it just gets
broken. I might have had one a long time ago, but it’s been broken for as long
as I can remember.” Says Stacy
“Hopefully somebody can come along and
fix it for you.” Says Stella, frowning sadly
“Just so it gets broken again? No
thanks. You act like you’re some kind of lover.” Says Stacy
“I tend to have a little bit of
optimism about that. I suppose it’s just a fantasy, but I don’t disregard the
possibility entirely.” Says Stella
“You might have if you were hanging out
with us these past couple days. One of our new friends Grace is almost
violently bigoted against men; the image of men had been beaten to death before
our eyes and was beaten thoroughly after it was already dead.” Says Stacy
“Why is she like that?” asks Stella
“Television, horror stories, a brother.
I guess all of that adds up. I don’t really blame her, it’s better to be safe
than sorry. We’ve been trying to get that through Ophelia’s thick skull with no
luck.” Says Stacy
“Isn’t it better to have loved and lost
than to have never loved at all?” asks Stella
“Not when you lose your life on account
of it.” Says Stacy
“I can see her doing something like
that, sadly.” Says Stella
“We’re doing what we can to keep an eye
on her, so everything should be fine.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. Who are your new friends
again?” asks Stella
“That one is Grace, the other one is
Isabelle.” Says Stacy
“What is she like?” asks Stella
“Rich, funny, cool, ironically a bit of
a hippie with not too much tolerance for that nonsense, I suppose.” Says Stacy
“How is she your friend with that lack
of a tolerance for nonsense?” asks Stella
“Ironically some people don’t find my
views to be nonsensical, at least when I pull the classy ones out of the big
bag of sentiments.” Says Stella
“You must be saving those for your
friends.” Says Stella
“I give you a taste every now and again;
I’m a classy lady after all.” Says Stacy
“I don’t recall tasting those.” Says
Stella
“I just said they were classy, I didn’t
say they were sensible. You seem to only taste sensibility for some reason.”
Says Stacy
“That makes sense.” Says Stella
“I’m going back to sleep. Wake me up if
you cook supper.” Says Stacy
“Are you friends eating with us?” asks Stella
“I doubt it.” Says Stacy
“Check.” Says Stella sternly
“Fine.” Stacy gets her phone and texts
her friends, waits for a response
“No.” says Stacy
“Thank you.” Says Stella
Stacy sleeps. Stella reads. The sun
slowly slips towards the horizon.
Stella whistles to get Stacy’s
attention.
“What?” asks Stacy sleepily
“What do you want to eat?” asks Stella
“Food?” says Stacy
“It was going to be tires and rebar,
but if you’re in the mood for food I can change my plans.” Says Stella
“You are the one who cooks and buys
groceries, how should I know what there is to eat.” Says Stacy
“What would you do without me?” asks
Stella
“Something, maybe? I’m always amazed
that nobody robs you when you’re riding your bike down the street with that
trailer of groceries.” says Stacy
“Homeless people who say they are
starving on their sign won’t even take free food if you offer it to them. We
don’t really live in a bad area either.” Says Stella
“I suppose that’s why the liquor
courier service delivers its goods in something like an armored car. They know
what the desperate people want.” Says Stacy
“I think it’s pretty bad that the
liquor stores offer a courier service while grocery stores don’t.” says Stella
“Well the patrons of liquor stores tend
to be loyal customers and plenty of them can’t drive. You’ve got to reach your
target market somehow. I’m pretty sure people are more likely to pull over to
the side of the road if they see a liquor van than they are if they see an
ambulance, and for sure if it’s a cop.” Says Stacy
“It’s no surprise that liquor is more
popular than the police. It is rare you ever see police sirens, they want to
get to their destination even less than the people who called them there.” Says
Stella
“I’m pretty sure it’s a rookie every
time, those fresh grapes spoil quickly and then they become sweet, sweet wine.”
Says Stacy
“I’m sure at least some of them try to
clean up the streets.” Says Stella
“Most of them do, they can’t just leave
the dead bodies out to rot, you know? As far as stopping crime I don’t think
I’ve ever seen them make an effort.” Says Stacy
“Didn’t the cops come talk to you that
one night?” asks Stella
“I think that’s only because I was the
victim. If it were just another murder I’m sure the homicide department would
file it with the countless cold cases, call it a day, and go to town on the
cold case of brews they’ve got waiting for them at home.” Says Stacy
“Why didn’t they do that to yours
then?” asks Stella
“I think they only did it because they
knew they could write it off as self-defense and let me go. Ever since the
police became a private entity they do what they can to keep the jails empty,
jailbirds impact the bottom line so of course there will be none of that. I’m
pretty sure every cop cares a lot more about his holiday bonus than he does
about justice.” Says Stacy
“People still end up in jail, so how do
you explain that?” asks Stella
“Well, aside from the random oddball
who turns himself in and confesses to something who hangs out for a few hours
before the public defendant gets him released due to a lack of evidence, the
only people who go to jail and face trial are the people with a bounty on their
head, if the police make more money by persecuting them than they lose by
keeping them incarcerated, that is when they’re in hot pursuit.” Says Stacy
“I take it you know a bunch of cops or
something.” Says Stella
“It’s common knowledge. If you pick up
any paper and look at the crime log, the only cases where a person is charged
involve victims with high profile titles; it’s never the robbery of a janitor
or the rape of a waitress. Unless you’re paying for the justice it just doesn’t
happen.” Says Stacy
“I’ve definitely heard of normal people
being helped by the police.” Says Stella
“Sometimes if the cops are bored enough
they will take a reported crime and use it as an excuse to go hunt minorities,
that’s about it. Sometimes they kill the right guy, sometimes they don’t. It’s
seldom that they even do that. Regardless of whether or not the accuser even verifies
that they got the right guy, they report that they apprehended a suspect who
resisted to the point they feared for their life and acted in self-defense,
then they get a commendation for their bravery. If you watch the conservative
news they love that kind of that stuff.” Says Stacy
“Who watches the conservative news?”
asks Stella
“Ophelia’s parents.” Says Stacy
“I think you’re still a bit too cynical
about the cops. There have to be some good cops.” Says Stella
“Maybe in places where the police force
is not a private locally subsidized entity. It is a business and the cops are
businessmen. If you are really that interested you can request a list of
reported crimes and compare it with the list of individuals charged with a
crime. Easily less than 1% of reported crimes result in a suspect being
charged, and on top of that the vast majority of crimes are unreported because
anybody who is nobody understands the police don’t give a damn about them. ”
Says Stacy
“I’ll let you have this one. I really
just wanted to hold onto my childlike perception of them. I like to think we’re
somewhat safe from crime, but clearly not.” Says Stella
“We’re plenty safe, most minorities
would be shot just for breaking the lines of the quasi-voluntary social segregation,
the police would jump on that opportunity if some loitering hotshot didn’t take
the opportunity himself.” Says Stacy
“Because being a minority is a crime?”
asks Stella
“Threatening somebody’s life is a
crime. It’s easy to feel threatened and impossible to disprove. That’s all the
justification anybody really needs in this city to murder somebody in broad
daylight.” Says Stacy
“You act like these kinds of murders
are commonplace, I’ve never even heard of one.” Says Stella
“Nobody makes a big deal of it when it
happens; everybody on both sides agrees that the deceased should have known
better than to walk into the jaws of the hungry lion.” Says Stacy
“You think we would be shot on sight if
we walked through an ethnic neighborhood?” asks Stella
“No. It’s because we’re women.
Minorities like white women because we kind of had the same fate as they did
for most all of history. White men are the demons and everybody else is their
victims. It’s not as true today, but people love to blame anything and everything
they can on bad blood.” Says Stacy
“But dad would get shot?” asks Stella
“He might get roughed up a bit, but
they would probably just think he’s homeless.” Says Stacy
“That’s a good point.” Says Stella
“If it’s a white man in a suit you know
that he will soon be surrounded by bandanas and stripped naked. We might get
raped or something, but that doesn’t really happen on the streets in broad
daylight, we’re more likely to get abducted by weirdos or something, but that
can happen anywhere and we’re a bit too old for that thankfully.” Says Stacy
“You think they would take his suit?”
says Stella
“You can pawn a nice suit pretty
easily. Of course they take his suit.” Says Stacy
“You have no faith in mankind, do you?”
asks Stella
“It’s not a matter of faith; faith
relates to unknown or unknowable things, I’m simply stating easily observable
facts. I don’t have faith in mankind changing anytime soon, man hasn’t changed
over the course of the 5,500 years of recorded history so I’m not going to put
faith in some miracle or something that will make him turn on a dime towards
godliness.” Says Stacy
“I like to believe in a brighter
tomorrow, even if it is foolish.” Says Stella
“It’s not foolish at all, the sun gets
brighter every day, it’s not noticeable, but it’s a guarantee that tomorrow
will be brighter than today by some negligible tiny fraction.” Says Stacy
“I’m already looking forward to it.
I’ll go fix something for us to eat, I’m sure you’re hungry.” Says Stella
“You can read me like a book.” Says
Stacy
“I can read the first part that could
easily be used to teach small children how to read. The second part is some
delirious haunted manifesto that nobody in their right mind could stomach.”
Says Stella
“I’m glad nobody in their right mind
exists.” Says Stacy
“You’re lucky that’s probably true, at
least around here.” Says Stella, exiting the room, Stacy follows
“What are you cooking?” asks Stacy,
following her sister downstairs
“Eggs and Spanish rice.” Says Stella
“Good. I was almost ready to eat the
tires and rebar.” Says Stacy
“One would think you’d be a bit bigger
with your appetite.” Says Stella
“My demons need to eat too. I’m sure I
would be if they didn’t take the lion’s share of the grub.” Says Stacy
“Of course.” Says Stella, beginning to
assemble the meal, Stacy grabs a magazine from the pile day’s mail and sits at
the table
“I didn’t think you’d go right for the
magazine full of fashion and girl talk.” Says Stella
“I’d probably read anything to be
honest. Whatever it is can almost always teach you a thing or two.” Says Stacy
“You really just want to be a beautiful
popular and normal girl don’t you?” teases Stella
“I don’t need to want something I
already have.” Says Stacy
“I’d give you beautiful to avoid
criticizing myself, the other two not so much.” Says Stella
“I have plenty of friends.” Says Stacy
“Two?” teases Stella
“At least 4, but I am on easily on
speaking terms with everybody in my classes.” Says Stacy
“Wow, speaking terms. That’s like the
pinnacle of popularity.” Teases Stella
“I don’t need any more friends, it’s
not like I can entertain 100 people simultaneously. You’re the one who
subscribes to this magazine. Don’t tease me about wanting to be a normal girl.”
Says Stacy
“Maybe I read that because I am normal
and have normal interests. I like to think about fashion, beauty, dating, and
what not. I don’t see why you don’t take any interest in those things.” Says
Stella
“The printing press didn’t
revolutionize the world because it was beautiful. I’m not going to resign
myself to basing my own merit off of feminine ideals. When you read about
history they don’t give a damn about the feminine women, history only cares
about girls who can go toe to toe with men.” Says Stacy
“You realize it’s pretty irrational to
attempt to become some historically significant person, there are a few
thousand of those out of the 100 billion people that ever walked the earth.”
Says Stella
“Dad has alcoholism and I have
egotism.” Says Stacy
“It’s clearly damaging your vital
organs, largely your brain.” Says Stella
“It’s a crippling disease, but I’m not
trying to fight off the tremens. I don’t think they can give me enough diazepam
to ensure that I don’t die.” Says Stacy
“You can put the alcoholic in a place
without alcohol; I think it would be impossible to separate you from your ego.”
Says Stella
“Then it’s hopeless to even try to save
me.” Says Stella
“What a pity.” Says Stella
“The real pity is people who base their
ego off insignificant things like fashion, beauty and dating. At least my
standards of excellence have a palpable significance within reality outside of
the opinions of petty irrelevant peasants.” Says Stacy
“I think it’s possible to enjoy those
things without basing your ego off of them.” Says Stella
“Sadly most girls can’t seem to
understand that. They see trifling femininity as the most significant aspect of
their life. The sad part is that it becomes the de facto truth when every girl
choses to believe such nonsense.” Says Stacy
“Plenty of girls put most of their
effort into their studies and could care less about that sort of thing.” Says
Stella
“That tends not to be their choice;
they do so because they were excluded from the cult of the feminine populist due
to looks, money, or some other form of stigma. Even then plenty of them still
try to redeem themselves with such pettiness out of some pipe dream that they
will become the ideal girl in the eyes of both sexes.” Says Stacy
“People desire self-improvement. What
is wrong with somebody who wants to improve upon themselves even if it takes
the form of doing make-up, hair styling, or fashion?” Says Stella
“Vanity was once a cardinal sin, now it
is a subset of pride, and for good reason. The beautiful horse that can’t run
worth a damn shouldn’t be given any more value than the ugly horse who is
equally terrible at running. Wasting time every day of your life in pursuit of
something that literally accomplishes nothing is ridiculous.” Says Stacy
“So you don’t think impressing guys and
getting them to like you is accomplishing something?” asks Stella
“They don’t like you, they like you
when you’re obscured by vanity. They would spit on you if you took off the
mask. You invest so much time to reward yourself with a fake life of always
trying to live up to people’s unnatural expectations, throwing away piles of
money and time and constantly drowning yourself with the anxiety induced by the
fear of your own inadequacy. If I’m going to set out to accomplish something,
I’m going try and accomplish something legitimate and real, not simply maim my
own personage in exchange for the ephemeral satisfaction of the approval of the
vanity of my peers.” Says Stacy
“Unfortunately for you, women are
expected to care about their looks. Society is starting to accept the fact that
women can be powerful, but part of a woman’s power is her looks. Beauty can
intimidate people just as much as prowess and it can impress people just as
much as work ethic. That is kind of good because often your prowess and work
ethic will be written off simply because of your gender.” Says Stacy
“I’ll try to remember that. As much as
I’m not fond of that sort of thing, I do see your point. If you can’t tempt men
with reason, perhaps you can tempt them with your body.” Says Stacy
“A lot of it is personality; you might
want to work on that. Cute, playful, and sexy tend to work a bit better than
brooding insanity.” Says Stella
“I’ll have to go for a cute, playful,
and sexy brooding insanity then.” Says Stacy
“That’s as far as you’re willing to
go?” asks Stella
“I’m not going to sacrifice who I am as
a person just so I can sleep my way up the ladder. I don’t want to be some
slaver’s ideal woman; I want to be my ideal woman.” Says Stacy
“What does that involve, exactly?” asks
Stella
“Basically it just involves becoming
the top cat. I’ve never been fond of the idea of subservience to others, so my
only choice is to be the one who everyone else is subservient.” Says Stacy
“That is extraordinarily ridiculous.
Everybody is mutually subservient to each other. It’s called civility.” Says
Stella
“There is always an imbalance where the
less powerful tend to be more civil out of fear, and the more powerful tend to
be less civil out of hubris.” Says Stacy
“You don’t want to be civil?” asks
Stella
“Civility and power are antithetical
entities, one negates the other. I have nothing against being civil; it is just
that I would rather be powerful.” Says Stacy
“Being uncivil also tends to quickly
negate one’s power. Unless you want to lead a prison gang or something you
should probably have a better philosophy than that.” Says Stella
“Of course they do, the key is being
just civil enough to save face. This will maximize your power and negate the
risk of losing it on account of your antisocial tendencies. It’s common
knowledge that good guys finish last, at the very least I’d like to be in the
middle of the pack.” Says Stacy
“I think your distinct lack of goodness
will get you a bit further than that.” Says Stella
“Thanks. That’s inspiring. Sometimes I
feel like I’m too good. I tend to want the best results from a logical and
rational standpoint, and while I would resort to amoral autocratic means to
accomplish these things, I feel that since I would actually be helping society
I would be too benevolent to actually be powerful.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure plenty of people also feel
that autocrats are simply too benevolent to yield any power.” Says Stella,
sarcastically
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying
that personally my actions would all be strictly guided by their yields. The
decisions would make themselves because they are simply the ones that produce
the most optimum results in regards to society; this leaves me as a puppet to
the decisions themselves as any sort of self-serving power thirst would burden the
efficacy of the amoral dehumanization of society in the name of economic and
military power.” Says Stacy
“It is touching how selfless you are.
You just want to make the world a better place.” Says Stella
“Man is amoral if not immoral; it is
nonsensical to attempt to govern with a moralistic system. The government
should reflect its constituents, and I’m not going to put on airs and pretend
to be moral when the majority of the population has little interest in such
things. I am a realist when it comes down to that.” Says Stacy
“The government attempts to be moral
because discontented people will revolt if they feel like victims of the
government rather than its beneficiaries.” Says Stella
“It is much easier to silence upheaval
than it is to correct economic turmoil. Man is a beast of burden and should be
treated no better than any of them. I feel that since I am one of the few that
can come to this conclusion it is my plow to pull. Oxen have never staged a
coup or rioted because they have been thoroughly broken and understand their place;
it is easy to rear men in the same fashion. It is disgusting that humans are
forced to believe in the delusion of their own significance to the point where
it cripples the efficacy of the allegorical farm on which these beasts are
damned to pull their plows until they die.” Says Stacy
“You somehow think you can break the
spirit of every human to the point where they consider themselves nothing but
beasts of burden? That’s lofty.” Says Stella
“They are already broken; their brokenness
simply coexists with that delusion. All I need to do is extirpate the delusion
and society will function much more smoothly. I am not going to have more
sympathy for the devil than I have for the humble godly beasts that selflessly
serve their masters.” Says Stacy
“I hope to see that one day. Little
Stacy somehow crippling the spirits of the entirety of mankind.” Says Stella
“I shall exorcise their demons of vice
and instill them with humble godliness. Their spirits will never be higher,
lest their souls had been ushered unto damnation in the process of the
redemption of mankind.” Says Stacy
“Good luck with that. Eat up. You seem
to be floating away into the clouds of megalomania; this might help you sink
back down to earth.” Says Stella, serving her sister a plate of food
“I should be wary not to eat too much
then; reality lies so deep in the ocean of liquid depression that the pressure
upon one’s body is bone crushing.” Says Stacy
“I think you’ll be fine.” Says Stella,
as Stacy eats happily
“Delicious as always.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you like it.” Says Stella
“I’m almost ashamed that I enjoy food
so much. It is like I’m torn between two loves. I either preserve my dreams of
conquering the world and starve or submit myself to the plebeian’s shackles in
order to eat.” Says Stacy
“I don’t see how that’s a hard choice
at all.” Says Stella
“The pain of insignificance in the mind
of an egotist can easily be as painful as starving; at least one of them is
kind enough to kill you eventually.” Says Stacy
“You’ve just got to have more feasible
dreams. You don’t have to be a tyrant to be important.” Says Stella
“In order to be important you’ve got to
impose some kind of tyranny, otherwise you’re simply the subject of a tyrant.”
Says Stacy
“You’re important to me, and your
friends I’m sure. That’s got to count for something.” Says Stella
“That’s comparing apples and oranges,
personal importance and impersonal importance are two very different things,
like relevance and reverence. People can revere an irrelevant religious or cult
leader, but despised despots are far more relevant to the physical status of
reality regardless of their irreverentiation and disrespect of their countless
opponents.” Says Stacy
“Most people are happy with the just
the apples in that scenario.” Says Stella
“I am a glutton, what can I say, I
would love to be able to enjoy both of them as opposed to eating apples all day
long while dreaming of oranges.” Says Stacy
“At least there is some level of mutual
appreciation.” Says Stella
“Of course, you girls are like guide
dogs that serve poor blind me. If it weren’t for you keeping me in touch with
reality I would easily have been consumed by my delusions a long time ago. I
always believe myself, whatever I may happen to think up, and it is helpful
when people remind that doing so is often not the safest course of action.”
Says Stacy
“You don’t ever think you should
develop the instinct to doubt yourself sometimes?” asks Stella
“Doubt is a festering plague in the
mind of man. Doubting oneself is easily the heaviest burden a man can carry for
it has no physical weight to crush him, nor any volume to limit its
metastization throughout the entirety of his conscience.” Says Stacy
“There is still a healthy amount that
one should have. I doubt I would be able to jump off of the roof and walk away scot
free.” Says Stella
“That’s more so knowledge than doubt;
you know that to be true. You doubt whether or not you will have the capacity
to accomplish something before you set out to do it and the doubt weakens your
muscles and your willpower, crippling you from the very start. It is foolish to
doubt one’s own undertakings because even if you fail, your failure will simply
be accommodated by your doubt instead of thwarted by your confidence and
determination. It is different if you know that you will fail, at which point
you should address the reasons for this, but if you are physically and
intellectually capable of something, doubting oneself is the only thing that
can cause your physical and intellectual capability to fail you.” Says Stacy
“You tend to overestimate your physical
and intellectual capability to some extent.” Says Stella
“I am aware that I may not have such
capability at this time, but I like to factor in the yield of potential
self-improvement into the equation. If I am going to attempt to do something, I
am surely going to facilitate the success of my attempts as much as possible.”
Says Stacy
“You wouldn’t rather just attempt to
accomplish things that are in your grasp? Why spend so much time thinking one
million steps ahead of where you are now.” Says Stella
“Shortsightedness can easily lead a man
off of the path he wishes to follow. I keep my destination in mind and attempt
to plot a course accordingly. If I focus only on what I can accomplish in the
present without much in mind for a destination, I may not even like where I end
up.” Says Stacy
“You seem to be navigating via clouds
more than anything else, I’m sure it’s hard to get anywhere doing that all
day.” Says Stella
“What can I say; clouds are far more
beautiful than the disgusting dystopia that surrounds us.” Says Stacy
“You seem to like the clouds that are
even more disgusting and dystopic than society.” Says Stella
“Man dreams of going to heaven in the
clouds, and I simply find the clouds that look the most inviting. If I am riding
a train without brakes, I think it’s a bit more feasible to accelerate the
train than it is to try to cause it to slow down and reverse without breaking
the damn thing entirely.” Says Stacy
“The train might naturally come to a
stop eventually if people didn’t choose to keep giving it gas.” Says Stella
“What are you going to do? Get off the
train in the middle of the wilderness while the train is idle before somebody
eventually decides that it’s high time to get the train rolling again?” asks
Stacy
“Maybe we can just walk back to a
decent place.” Says Stella
“The train didn’t come from a decent
place, and it’s unlikely that a decent place even exists. Either you are
walking nowhere, accomplishing nothing, and dying in the wilderness or you are
making steady progress towards a destination.” Says Stacy
“You really want to get to that
destination?” asks Stella
“I don’t want to live my entire life on
a train. I’d rather expedite the journey than damn even more people to the same
birth and death on a train because it’s going so damn slow. The train will get
there eventually, and that train is an allegory for watching the world burn. If
we can actually get off the train we can begin to sow the seeds of societal
succession much like how ecological succession occurs after the forest burns
down.” Says Stacy
“If the world is burning, most people
would rather try and fight the fires.” Says Stacy
“It is futile to attempt to extinguish
a mountain of tinder soaked in gasoline, the people foolish enough to attempt
to do so will simply be consumed by the flames; the others who say they desire
such a thing are simply preaching blind idealism, but I’m not the type of
person who wastes time telling people it would be great if I shit world peace
and angels because I’m not an idiot.” Says Stacy
“You think it’s pointless to even try?”
asks Stella
“The whole world has come to the
conclusion that it would be great if they could put out the fire, but seeing
how they have made little progress on the matter regardless of the
unprecedented ingenuity of the human race, it is easy to draw the conclusion
that it simply cannot be done.” Says Stacy
“Thankfully some people aren’t all as
pessimistic as you are and at least try to do something.” Says Stella
“It is simple realism to argue that
your house is on fire when it is belching flames from every orifice. Only a
fool thinks they will be able to extinguish the flames and live in the ruins as
if everything is peaches and cream. The only thing we can do is demolish the
remnants and rebuild.” Says Stacy
“That house is full of people,
everybody on the planet if my headcount is correct.” Says Stella
“We vacate who we can and those who
wish to burn to death within the building are free to do so. The fields can
sustain the beasts, even if we must live under the stars as we attempt to
rebuild.” Says Stacy
“Good luck with that. Most people won’t
even believe you if you tell them that the house is on fire.” Says Stella
“Let them burn, even god is only
willing to offer man salvation, it is his own choice whether or not he takes
it. I feel that being burned alive is a fitting justice for such insolent
fools.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you are so nice as to offer
these poor creatures salvation. Seeing how nice you are, surely you’re nice
enough to wash the dishes.” Says Stella
“I’m offering them a business proposal
that happens to include salvation, it’s not like I’m saving them out of the
goodness of my heart. It’s only possible to save so many people, and worthwhile
to save even less.” Says Stacy, getting up to wash the dishes
“I see you’re still unwilling to take
even a facetious compliment.” Says Stella
“I’m taking the one about being nice.
I’ll be happy to clean up. The low hanging fruit are the most tempting, after
all.” Says Stacy
“Of course. When are your friends
coming over, anyways?” asks Stella
“Soon enough. Just seeing them is going
to be like greeting your fellow astronauts on the day of the launch for me.”
Says Stacy
“Shooting for the stars, I see.” Says
Stella
“It’s more the fear of burning up in
the atmosphere, but close enough.” Says Stacy
“What is your plan exactly?” asks
Stella
“The official story is that we are
studying. So let’s go with that.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know who would ever believe
that you would have the initiative to study.” Says Stacy
“I doubt anybody would, so don’t be mad
that you’re supposedly helping us. Your studiousness is well respected amongst
the community.” Says Stella
“Thanks for implicating me in whatever
plot you’ve drummed up. I appreciate it.” Says Stacy
“You’re just the alibi, it shouldn’t be
too bad.” Says Stacy
“So I’m aiding and abetting a criminal
as well as committing perjury?” says Stella
“If you actually end up in court I
expect you to plead the fifth. As long as you don’t incriminate yourself it’s
unlikely anybody else will have any interest in doing so.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Says Stella
“You’re great at hiding the truth from
people and yourself, considering your reluctance to agree with me, so it should
be a walk in the park for you.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think it’s unhealthy for me
to have to constantly repress all of these memories and awful feelings?” asks
Stella
“I’m sure it would be unhealthier if
you didn’t.” says Stacy
“You do understand how a fusion bomb
works, right?” asks Stella
“If that’s how you feel, I’m just glad
I’ll be in close proximity and be granted a swift and painless death.” Says
Stacy
“Your insanity has yet to kill you, and
I may well suffer the same fate.” Says Stella
“I’m sure with your self-consciousness
you will learn to save face, keep calm, and carry on with the best of them.
Hell, even I can do that for the most part.” Says Stacy, finishing the dishes
“I can’t wait for my life to be defined
by consumptive insanity just like yours is.” Says Stella
“Speak of the devil.” Says Stacy,
responding to knocking at the door, she goes to open it
“My heart just sank to new lows right
there.” Says Stella
“Truly sorry, love.” Says Stacy
“This feels like opening Pandora’s
Box.” Says Stella
“It’s already open, you’ve just got to
look inside.” Says Stacy, opening the door
“Hey Stacy!” shouts Ophelia, standing
with Ophelia, carrying their school sacks
“Welcome, come on in.” says Stacy
“Hey Mr. White!” shouts Ophelia,
regardless of Dale snoring on the couch
“Hello girls.” He says, warmly,
sleepily,
“We’ll be upstairs.” Says Stacy
“You know all too well where I’ll be.”
Says Dale
“Enjoy your programs.” Says Stacy
“I’ll do my best. It’s nice that even
if I’ve seen it before I don’t have any recollection of what happened. It’s
like every show is a new episode.” Says Dale
“That sounds so awesome. I don’t really
watch much TV so it’s kind of like that for me too.” Says Ophelia
“It really helps fill the void in your
life, you can substitute the experiences depicted on television in place of
your own due to the natural dearth in that area. Makes you feel like you’ve
lived a hundred years and traveled the world.” Says Dale
“Wow Dad, this whole time I thought you
were actually one hundred years old and had traveled all over the world.” Says
Stacy
“I know it’s hard to believe, but it is
simply an illusion.” Says Dale
“You’re the magic man, what can I say.”
Says Stacy
“Abracadabra!” shouts Dale, shaking his
hands at the girls as if casting a spell, laughing, entertained by himself
“You’ve still got it.” Says Stella,
dryly
“That’s good to hear. I don’t want to
forget the important parts of hocus pocus.” Says Dale
“I’ll let you get back to enjoying the
finer things in life. We’ll be upstairs studying.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you’re doing it right. I
can’t say I’m in the same boat.” Says Dale
“If you’re doing all right, you’re
doing it right.” Says Stacy
“I’ll focus on that. Have fun now.”
Says Dale
“You too.” Says Stacy as the girls go
upstairs into the sisters’ room.
“Stella, you look like you’ve just seen
a ghost. What’s wrong?” asks Ophelia
“I do believe I am staring at three
ghosts, four if there was a mirror here.” Says Stella, shocked by the
revelation of seeing the rings
“What are you talking about, we’re not
ghosts.” Says Ophelia as she hugs Stella who stands there motionless. “See,
nice and warm.”
“That may not be the case for long if I
understand the situation.” Says Stella
“I see Stacy has told you about our
predicament.” says Jenna, uneasily, as the girls sit on the parallel twin beds
“Yeah, something like that. I am glad
that you’re the colors of your rings are not as foreboding as Stacy’s is.” Says
Stella
“Yeah, ours are still kind of silvery.
Stacy told you about Mr. Dog, right? He seems to expect awesome things from
Stacy.” Says Ophelia
“The only thing preventing me from
jumping out of that window is the fact that I know I will not die.” Says Stella
“What’s wrong?” asks Ophelia
“The last thing I wanted was the story
of the talking dog to be corroborated. Either you three have some sort of
communal insanity or the sheer inanity of reality is brutally beating me to
death with a baseball bat.” Says Stella
“I dislike it as much as you do. Just
be glad he didn’t trick you like he did us.” Says Jenna
“He didn’t trick us, he gave us awesome
powers.” Says Ophelia
“You don’t remember how he said he
wanted to eat us?” asks Jenna
“I think he only said that to make sure
that we try as hard as possible to do good things.” Says Ophelia
“I’m positive he definitely wants to
eat us.” Says Stacy
“So what are you going to do now, go
transform into witches and save the world or something?” asks Stella
“Of course!” says Ophelia
“Not right now. We’ve got some time to
burn before our date with destiny.” Says Stacy
“What is the plan exactly?” asks
Ophelia
“We’re going to save somebody’s life.”
Says Stacy
“Wow, that sounds amazing. Why are they
going to die?” Says Ophelia
“Bad things will happen if we don’t
save the day. Let’s just leave it at that.” Says Stacy
“You sound confidant in the success of
your plan. That makes me nervous.” Says Jenna
“I am confident because it is simple.
It relies on three people to who sustain their livelihoods through vice to
mutually fall victim to said vice in accordance with each other at a
predetermined place and time.” Says Stacy
“What do we do about that?” asks
Ophelia
“See to it that one of them does not
become the victim of even more deadly vices.” Says Stacy
“That almost sounds noble.” Says Stella
“You are sure that whatever this thing
is will happen?” asks Jenna
“Those whose lives are defined by vice
do very little besides premediate their vices. When something like this has
been premeditated for so long, the enacting of the rehearsed ordeal becomes
second nature.” Says Stella
“You are that confident in your ability
to read people’s minds?” asks Stella in contesting disbelief
“So long as it involves me doing good
or fighting evil in some way, yes, sadly.” Says Stacy
“Do you have any proof that you’re not
just a nutcase?” asks Stella
“She saved a woman’s life one time by
telling her she had cancer and she kept somebody’s husband out of jail. She’s
pretty good at it.” Says Ophelia, proudly
“Regardless, we will know by the end of
the night based on whether or not my ring is a radiant pearly white or has
simply become more foretelling of my own demise.” Says Stacy
“You’re sure that whatever you are
planning on doing is enough to please the dog?” asks Jenna
“Regrettably, I am far too familiar
with the desires of Mr. Dog. I wouldn’t undertake a task like this if I didn’t
fully know the compensation for doing such a thing.” Says Stacy
“I am super excited. I can’t believe
even Stacy wants to go out and save people’s lives. She’s usually pretty sassy
and turns her nose up at people.” Says Ophelia
“That’s the truth.” Says Stella
“I look down upon people; I don’t turn
my nose up at them.” Says Stacy
“It’s hard to do that when you’re
shorter than us, though.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure Napoleon looked down upon
countless peasants who were mountains of men. It has little to do with height.”
Says Stacy
“I’m satisfied with this briefing.
Let’s talk about something else. This sort of talk is really raking my nerves.”
Says Jenna
“I have to live with her, think about
how I feel. I really had to mentally prepare myself for this. I wanted you two
to laugh it off like she was just being silly or something, but I know when
Jenna looks grim and serious the situation is actually grim and serious.” Says
Stella
“Just in case you still don’t believe
us, you can watch us transform! It’s so amazing.” Says Ophelia
“Please don’t. It is very
embarrassing.” Says Jenna
“If you three happen to go out and get
yourselves killed, I would feel ashamed if I didn’t get to see your cute
magical transformation or whatever.” Says Stella
“I’m fairly confident we aren’t going
to die.” Says Stacy
“I don’t really trust your confidence
Stacy, but I do understand that this is a do or die moment regardless of that
fact.” Says Jenna
“It is so refreshing to hear somebody
else doubt Stacy’s confidence. If you are in a room with somebody who argues
that the sky is neon green all day, you start to doubt your own certainty about
its blueness.” Says Stella
“I was telling Stella this; doubt is a
burden on every man who wishes to climb the mountain of opportunity. It is best
not to encumber ourselves.” Says Stacy
“Let’s not give ourselves any room to
doubt by distracting ourselves. Sadly I must wrestle with my uncanny ability to
have even the slightest amount of foresight.” Says Jenna
“What do you want to do?” asks Stacy
“We could always study like we said we
would.” Says Jenna
“That’s boring. We don’t even have any
tests or anything.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure Stella wouldn’t mind.” Says
Jenna
“Of course not, but there is an even better
way to prepare ourselves for our futures at 9 to 5 desk jobs.” Says Stacy
“What might that be?” asks Stella
“Playing hearts, of course.” Says Stacy
“Amazing. You really know what it takes
to succeed in this world.” Says Stella
“You can’t succeed if you die from work
death, so clearly playing hearts is an important factor of success.” Says Stacy
“I’ll get the cards.” Says Stella,
getting the cards, the girls sit on the floor between the beds and the desk
“In the name of distracting ourselves
from what is looming, let’s pick a feel good conversation topic. I’d rather not
be brooding over multiple sources of anxiety right now.” Says Jenna
“That is a welcome gesture.” Says
Stella, returning and dealing the cards, the girls play absentmindedly
“How about we talk about something nice
like plans or dreams for the future? Describe the perfect future for yourself.”
Says Ophelia
“There’s something I’ve been wanting
lately, real bad. In my fantasies it just feels like heaven to me.” Says Stacy
“Awesome. What is it?” asks Ophelia
“I kind of want to be condemned by the
authority to the analogue of death where I am stripped naked and suspended
spread eagle for days on end while being caned mercilessly and occasionally choked
to the point of becoming nearly unconscious and forced to take the first
instinctively desperate breath I am allowed from a paper bag ripe with the
fumes of silver spray-paint. This would continue for days if not weeks while
being force-fed gruel until my mental capacity is reduced to that of an animal,
at which point I am simply dropped into the streets bloodied, naked, and wild.
” says Stacy
“I didn’t know you were that kinky, Stacy.”
Says Stella, a bit taken aback
“What?” asks Ophelia
“Why would you want that? It’s not like
I don’t believe you, but somehow I’m even more curious than I am concerned.”
Says Jenna
“Life is a bumpy ride and at least 80%
of my mind, body, and soul are dangling from the back of this goddamn
speedwagon. It would also be nice to live a day where I am not wracked with the
shame induced by being aware of the fact that my sensory entity belongs to the
family of such a despicable animal. As much as I love myself, and you all, of
course, the simple silhouette of a human is enough to induce blinding antipathy
and aggression due to the overwhelming likelihood that the human deserves to be
regarded with said antipathy.” Says Stacy
“I would say you are hanging on to the
speedwagon by your fingertips at best.” Says Stella
“You would hate to see me sever my ties
to reality.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure I would.” Says Stella
“There are plenty of decent people in
the world; I wouldn’t say that the likelihood of them being odious is
overwhelming.” Says Jenna
“Maybe my standards are just too high,
kind of like a parent who doesn’t love their child on account of the child’s
shortcoming even though the child legitimately tries their best. It is hard for
me to draw the line between where proper sympathy ends and cardinal sloth
begins. How much vice can be tolerated before you are simply being irreverent
of God and morality?” says Stacy
“That depends on society for the most
part, and it changes from place to place. Irreverence is an opinion after all
so there’s no legitimate standard. I’m sure you’re a lot less forgiving on the
subject than most people for some reason.” Says Stella
“My parents think there’s way too much
sin in the world, I’m sure a lot of people would agree with you.” Says Ophelia
“The world tends to be a lot more
religious or socially conservative then our country. A lot of places are
actually offended by how tolerant our society is.” Says Jenna
“I can sympathize with that. I feel
that our country being founded by iconoclasts that simply rejected the old ways
of life such as religion out of spite on account of their own misbegotten
origins is largely to blame for that.” Says Stacy
“I think it’s just a way to avoid
conflict, the more you tolerate the less you have to condemn and fight with.”
Says Jenna
“I see no advantage to being a nation
attempting to half-heartedly fight off the symptoms of infectious vice as
opposed to one that whole-heartedly does so.” Says Stacy
“Clearly when you tolerate people, you
have a stronger workforce. The more people you exclude the weaker you become as
a population.” Says Stella
“I have no problem with tolerating
people; it is personalities that I have a problem with tolerating. The everyman’s
common mentality of hedonism and ignorance that plagues our country would be
spat upon by people even in the developing world. It’s a shame that people
without even an elementary school education are more sensible than one of the
most powerful nations on the planet. This country was founded by bastard
children who were shunned by their parents, and the following generations have
had the same mentality of a bastard instilled into them from birth. To be
anything but an irreverent bastard is seen as antisocial in this country.” Says
Stacy
“You can’t knock success.” Says Stella
“The pinnacle of success in this country
was the bow and arrow until the settlers arrived. You can’t argue that
something is successful simply because it has never been challenged. It is a
shame that people think that America is doing things right simply because their
location made their annihilation on account of their system of beliefs
impossible during the world wars.” Says Stacy
“It does seem a bit like the antitheses
of the old idiom; ‘men in glass houses should not throw stones’. Since America
can throw stones all day without facing any repercussions for doing so they
simply presume that they are always correct due to the complete absence of
tangible backlash.” Says Jenna
“Kind of like Stacy.” Jokes Ophelia
“Exactly.” Says Stella
“I may throw stones from the tower of a
fortified castle, but it is by no means impenetrable. Surely a force will come
along that is strong enough to lay siege to my fortress.” Says Stacy
“I think that might be called reality,
but you don’t tend to notice that one too much.” Says Stella
“It does not matter, for I shall fight
to the death, regardless of what attempts to slay or subdue me. My spirits
shall not be broken and no man shall ever break this horse with the intention
of riding it.” Says Stacy
“That’s the spirit. At least you are
willing to stand up for what you believe in.” Says Ophelia
“It seems a bit brash. You are
attempting to take on the world as a single person.” Says Jenna
“If you ever made an inch of progress
towards your goals I am sure you would be assassinated promptly, such a
mentality is literally suicidal.” Says Stella
“So be it. I would rather be revered as
a dead hero like Leonidas at Thermopylae than another nameless corpse in the
Persian Army. I will die one way or the other; I care about my dignity more
than my odds of success or survival.” Says Stacy
“That’s funny because the vast majority
of people don’t feel that way.” Says Stella
“It is an almost feral individualism
that drives me; I cannot amalgamate with society because I cannot trust them.
When they smile at me all I see is them showing their teeth, to which I respond
by showing my own.” Says Stacy
“You really seem to be a subject that
goes against the lessons learned from Pavlov’s dog.” Jokes Jenna
“I turn my nose up at treats and
pleasantries because they do nothing to satisfy my hunger, to me such pleasures
are nothing more than eating air and pretending it is food. Perhaps it would be
different if I was a dog, however, not only do I taste the deplorability of
those who offer me treats in the air around me, but I am well aware of the true
nature, meaning, and implications of this foul taste. Such a taste is repugnant
and I would rather rid it from the air that it saturates than mask the
sickening taste of malfeasance with treats.” Says Stacy
“I still don’t understand how you have
any friends, let alone make new friends. Are people actually sympathetic to
your views in the slightest?” asks Stella
“I think she’s only acting like this
because you’re here.” Says Opheliea
“She is a bit more normal around other
people.” Says Jenna
“Don’t tell her that. She’ll become
indignant.” Says Stacy
“You’re not even going treat me to some
slightly more reasonable Stacy since your friends are here?” asks Stella
“You are like the demon of
reasonableness, and when I see you my instinct is to fight off your corrupting
magic.” Says Stacy
“Really?” asks Stella
“I have to constantly remind myself
that I’m not you, this one, these hands, these are mine. I am not you, Stella.
When I see you, I am reminded of the hell that life would become if I start to slip,
and lose my own mind, the reality of having myself replaced with that of a
mindless drone or a worker bee fresh out of the factory, that is what haunts
me, for I cannot consider that to be a legitimate form of living: it is only
having your life lived for you.” Says Stacy
“It is, however, a legitimate form of
staying alive, which you might have some trouble doing considering your
antagonization of damn near everything under the Sun.” says Stella
“Living such a life is not being alive
in my mind, it is resigning one’s own dignity and accepting that one’s human
potential is that of labor which is expelled slowly from your walking corpse
until you die. I am unwilling to accept a simple life as a meek beast of burden
for those bold enough to drive their own kind like oxen.” Says Stacy
“So you would rather die?” asks Jenna
“Sadly, I find that unlikely. The beast
will hunger and be tempted by sustenance, the ghost will rattle the chains, but
that amounts to nothing but a spook at best. This pains me, but for this reason
I am willing to distance the ghost and the beast in order for them to each
pursue their own desires.” Says Stacy
“So you are a ghost?” asks Ophelia
“The beast sleeps, as it has been fed
and is satisfied. This leaves only the ghost to pilot the carapace, and hence
the rattling of chains.” Says Stacy
“I am almost regretting feeding you.”
Says Stella
“You are a fool if you wish to be at
odds with a hungry lion rather than a foolish ghost. More frightened by a spook
than being eaten, are you?” teases Stacy
“I think if you were desperate enough
you might actually eat me.” Says Stella
“I’d likely succumb to the life of a
raccoon before that. I couldn’t kill my kin like that.” Says Stacy
“What about us?” asks Jenna
“You’re my pride. If it comes down to such
a hunt, then we hunt together.” Says Stacy
“Don’t worry Stacy; I will feed you if
you really need food.” Says Ophelia
“Let’s hope it is always so easy to
feed.” Says Stacy
“You’re still acting kind of silly, but
I’m sure it won’t be hard to get food.” Says Ophelia
“It is hard for me to balance Stella’s
Stacy and yours.” Says Stacy
“I’m tempted to get a spray bottle and
spray you every time you act out. I’m sure that might help you balance the
two.” Says Stella
“I would sooner drown than be
conditioned like that.” Says Stacy
“I am willing to believe otherwise. I
know you don’t like to get wet, you don’t even like to bathe.” Says Stella
“So heartless as to resort to one of
the few weakness of your rival in order to gain the upper hand?” says Stacy
“I’m your sister; I’m not your rival.
But the temptation of having a normal conversation for once is pulling me
towards that spray bottle.” Says Stella
“No. Damn it. I’m already cold thinking
about it. I don’t have anywhere to run either.” Says Stacy
“You have no fear of authority, but
even the threat of a spray bottle will cause you to cower?” asks Stella
“The likelihood of the authority
reprimanding me is extremely low compared to the likelihood of you being
heartless enough to spray me with cold water. It’s not an irrational fear at
all.” Says Stacy
“I’m not doing it because I’m
heartless, I’m doing it because I love you and I want you to be normal.” Says
Stella
“That’s what parents say when they beat
their children.” Say Stacy
“I’m surprised that threat worked so
well, Stella.” Says Jenna
“You’re not going to side with me?”
says Stacy
“A little respect for social norms
could be appreciable.” Says Jenna
“You were definitely being more crazy
than normal.” Says Ophelia
“My heart just sank; I have never felt
so abandoned by you two.” Says Stacy
“Sorry.” Says Ophelia, playfully
“I thought nothing could ever break
Stacy’s pride and self-assured confidence.” Teases Stella
“Clearly you found something.” Says
Stacy
“It is almost funny that two of your
biggest fears are dogs and water.” Says Jenna
“I fear dogs, but water just makes me
uncomfortable.” Says Stacy
“You really are like a little kitty.”
Teases Ophelia
“I’m not going to make cat noises if
that’s what you’re after.” Says Stacy
“Aww.” Says Ophelia
“Sadly, we had a good topic to start
out with, but it was clearly a bad idea to let Stacy drive that car into a
tree. I would love to hear about everyone else’s dreams for the future.” Says
Stella
“I don’t know. Just the usual stuff
like fall in love and have a family. I kind of wish I was good at school like
you two, but it’s just so boring.” Says Ophelia
“There’s nothing wrong with that
Ophelia. I’m sure you would be a great wife and mother.” Says Stella
“I’ve still got to learn a lot though,
I can watch my mom, but I’m sure that’s not enough. It’s like trying to build a
house without knowing what you’re doing.” Says Ophelia
“I think you can take classes at school
for that. Home science and whatnot.” Says Stella
“I think that would be fun, but the
hard part is going to be finding a boyfriend.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure you really won’t have any
trouble with that, it might be harder to find a marriageable man though.” Says
Stella
“Everybody tells me that but I’m still
so lost on where to even get started. It’s so lame going to a girl’s school so
I can’t even talk to boys at school.” Says Ophelia
“I can’t really help you there. I
hardly know any girls, let alone boys.” Says Stella
“We’re kind of in a rough spot. Adults
can go to bars, and if we knew anybody we might get invited to social events.
In our situation we don’t have much in terms of opportunities.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure you still go to church,
though, right? I’m sure there are plenty of guys there if you talk to them.”
Says Stella
“That’s kind of true. I don’t want to
spend more time at church than I already do, though.” Says Ophelia
“They don’t have a youth group or
anything?” asks Stella
“I think there is bible study, but I
would feel really bad for thinking about boys during that if I went. People
tell me I shouldn’t be thinking about that kind of thing right now, but I can’t
help it.” Says Ophelia
“You’re plenty old enough, but I’m sure
they don’t want you to get too involved, which might be hard for somebody as
loving as you.” Says Stella
“I don’t know why everybody thinks
something bad will happen if I start dating a boy.” Says Ophelia
“It’s because bad things tend to
happen, I wouldn’t even put it past a church boy to do something bad to you.
You don’t know how tempting it is for men when they see you, and even more once
they meet you.” Says Stacy
“What do you think they would even do?”
asks Ophelia
“Ruin your life and make your parents
hate you. That’s just a hunch.” Says Stacy
“Wow. You really think that?” asks
Ophelia
“She is kind of right, sadly, especially
considering your parents.” Says Stella
“They really don’t want me fooling
around with boys. It’s heartbreaking to be honest, to be so locked up.” Says
Ophelia
“They just don’t want you to get hurt.
You really should have realized by now that a lot of people want to hurt you.
Most men don’t love in the same way you do, a lot of them just want to pleasure
themselves with your body.” Says Jenna
“What’s wrong with that?” says Ophelia
“It is quite immoral at this point in
your life. They want you to wait until marriage so you don’t fall into the life
of some sultry streetwalker.” Says Stella
“That is like forever to wait that
long. What am I supposed to do until then?” asks Ophelia
“You can still maybe date boys or
something, but you just have to be really careful because a lot of them will
want to take advantage of you. It’s almost like a demon possessed you as a
child, you are honestly that temptatious in the eyes of men, with the mind of a
child and the body of a harlot and what not.” Says Stella
“I might not know everything about
being an adult, but I’m still not a child. I don’t know what a harlot is but
everybody always compliments my body.” Says Ophelia defensively
“I don’t mean it in a bad way; people
compliment your body because it is amazing. It’s just that a lot of men would
really try to deceive you in order to get closer to you for that exact reason.
That’s why I say you should be careful.” Says Stella
“She’s right. The more you have to
offer men the more you have to be careful with it. A lot of men will simply try
to take what they want.” Says Jenna
“You think I have a lot to offer?” says
Ophelia
“You would be the perfect wife, but
there are lots of dangerous roads you have to walk to get to that point. We
just don’t want you to fall into some terrible abusive relationship that you
don’t know how to handle because you are overwhelmed by your emotions.” Says
Stella
“It would be so nice to just be past
all of this stuff where people worry about me all the time and get to be happy
and in love. I think I would be a perfect wife too, that’s why I’m so wrapped
up in it.” Says Ophelia
“You should try to focus on more than
that though, it’s selling yourself short. You have plenty of other things to
offer the world. What kind of job would you want to have?” asks Jenna
“I want to know everything about love
and being in a relationship so I can help people like me who are totally lost.”
Says Ophelia
“That is actually a real job. You could
be like a relationship councilor or something.” Says Stella
“That sounds nice.” Says Ophelia
“She has a whole lot to learn before
she can get to that point, though.” Says Stacy
“That doesn’t mean I can’t learn it. If
it’s something I want, it should be super easy to learn.” Says Ophelia
“The bad part of that is a lot of
people have really sad and painful relationships that you would have to try and
mend somehow. It would be a heartbreaking job. You have to listen to a lot of
terrible things that couples have done to each other and try to broker peace
between two individuals that are upset with each other.” Says Jenna
“That makes me want to do it even more.
People deserve to love each other, I think I could help people stop fighting
and love each other instead.” Says Ophelia
“Part of me thinks that’s possible, but
a lot of people simply are not compatible with each other, or anyone for that
matter.” Says Stacy
“Well, I can still help them get along
or whatever. I understand that sometimes people break up and it’s sad but
sometimes it’s for the best.” Says Ophelia
“I think you’ve got what it takes. It’s
good to hear some reasonable and inspiring goals for once. Stacy always just
wants to conquer the world.” Says Stella
“I think that goal is both reasonable
and inspiring.” Says Stacy
“That’s exactly my point. You fail to
even see that it is completely unreasonable, but regardless. That just leaves
you Jenna.” Says Stella
“And you of course.” Says Jenna
“Oh yes. Sometimes I forget that I even
exist, I kind of just think of myself as Stacy’s conscience that she has
expelled from her body somehow.” Says Stella
“At least she has you for that. Lord
knows what she would be like without you.” Says Jenna
“Just because I say things doesn’t mean
she listens, sadly.” Says Stella
“Do you want to go first, mine are
pretty boring.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure mine are even more boring.”
Says Stella
“Then let’s have ourselves a good old
fashioned boringness contest.” Says Stacy
“I’ll go, I’m sure I’ll win. This may
sound unachievable and totally crazy, but I just want to live a quiet, normal
life, surrounded by normal likeminded people. Love and happiness would be nice,
but just the comfort of being surrounded by sane people would easily bring a
tear to my eye.” Says Stella
“Stella wins the boringness contest. I
don’t think anything can possibly compete with that.” Says Stacy
“It is kind of sad that living with
Stacy makes you feel that way.” Says Jenna
“Dale can take some of the blame too.”
Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t blame dad for this, Stacy.”
Says Stella
“Honestly, as somebody who lives with
almost painfully sane people, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be; you kind of
turn into a machine that just goes through the motions without any flavor.
That’s why I like Stacy so much; I would feel like I’m just a computer or
something that is programmed by society without her reminding me of how
flavorful a person can be.” Says Jenna
“Aww. I love you Jenna.” Says Stacy,
truly flattered
“If there is such a thing as painful
sanity, I could very well become a masochist one day.” Jokes Stella
“As for me, I don’t know that much.
Ideally I want to be a doctor and help people, people always tell me that I’m
blessed to have my work ethic and studious nature, and I feel like that would
be making the most of it. Of course love would be nice, but I’m not all that
concerned with it as long as I have friends.” Says Jenna
“That was almost able to compete with
Stella’s boringness.” Says Stacy
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Says
Jenna
“I think you might win the boringness
contest by rattling on about how you want to take over the world for the
umpteenth time.” Says Stella
“Clearly that is not the case. You can
play an amazing record countless times and it is still amazing, while you only
have to listen to a boring record one time to understand that it is boring.”
Says Stacy
“Some people like peaceful and tranquil
music, even silence.” Says Stella
“I can enjoy the silence when I’m dead,
if this ghost has chains to rattle I’ll be damned if I don’t rattle them.” Says
Stacy
“Heaven forbid something takes away
your rattling chains. What ever would you do?” teases Stella
“I’m sure I’d find a new way to spook
about.” Says Stacy
“I certainly wouldn’t put it past you.”
Says Stella
“I’m surprised you are taking so many
points Stacy, here I was thinking you would just read everybody’s mind and play
perfectly.” Says Jenna, entertained
“Maybe if you three each planned on
killing a small child if you won the game that would be possible. As of now I’m
fishing in the dirt.” Says Stacy
“I figured stroking your ego would
amount to enough of a good deed to enable you to do so.” Teases Jenna
“A proud coal miner and a humble coal
miner tend to mine comparable amounts of coal. My ego isn’t going to sharpen my
pick axe any time soon; if anything it would just cloud my mind and hinder my
mining.” Says Stacy
“You tend to be the person who thinks
your grain of rice can feed a city.” Says Stella
“That is simply not the case. That
grain is a seed in reality, and from that plant, we harvest more seeds, and
with each subsequent crop the harvest grows more bountiful. People are
starving, and I feel that I have the one seed that can save the planet.” Says
Stacy
“You would be surprised how common a
grain of rice is.” Says Stella
“Perhaps you should find a more
nutritious seed to plant; rice is not quite packed with essential vitamins and
minerals.” Says Jenna
“It may well be a hempseed. The crop
would certainly be capable of expanding the minds of those who consume it.”
Jokes Stacy
“By expanding the mind you mean cripple
the intellectual development, induce psychological dependence, weaken the
memory, lower attentiveness, increase reaction times, and exacerbate the
development and severity mental illnesses, right?” says Stella
“Exactly. If you want to mold clay, it
helps to get it wet first.” Says Stacy
“So your ideal population is dependent
on a drug that leaves them mentally ill and intellectually impaired?” asks
Stella
“It is when I’m that drug. Reefer
zealots would easily be a threat on par with terrorism if they were not so
intoxicated by their god. Those fools live and die for a silly plant that makes
them giggle and feel good. Just think about the similar levels of zealotry for
an addicting drug that once consumed physically determines whether or not you
get to feel pleasure and joy and the withdrawal will easily kill you if you
attempt to refrain from using it habitually.” Says Stacy
“That’s how you plan on winning the
hearts and minds of the people?” asks Jenna
“The only way to get people to want
what’s best for them as opposed to what they simply enjoy most is to ensure
that it is the option that appeals most to their hedonistic instincts. The only
way to do that is to eliminate all other possibilities that hedonists find more
so appealing. Even if this option is subjecting oneself to torture and fearmongering,
as when this is the most enjoyable possible reality people will flock to it as
if it were liquid pleasure with a splash of love.” Says Stacy
“Why not just try to give them liquid
pleasure with a splash of love?” asks Ophelia
“A rose by any other name would smell
as sweet, dear lass. That rose is the artificial pinnacle which functions in
place of a largely unsavory physical pinnacle. Tyranny will be known as the
sweetest smelling flower to all who have never smelled anything sweeter, as for
those who have the memories of such idealistic masochism must simply be
psychologically associated with the painful experience of the true toll those
vices exert upon their bodies.” Says Stacy
“What is the point in making the world
worse and trying to force people to like it again?” asks Stella
“Tyranny is a flavorful word, but the
spiceless grain would be named along the lines of Utilitarian Autocracy. The
truth is that such a plant yields a far more bountiful harvest of much more
substantive foods than the current crop being sown that is defined as a mixture
of moderate sustenance along with a massive amount of intoxicating herbs that
stoke grand delusions of contentment and significance in the minds of the field
hands. I simply wish to see that the laborers are fed a healthy and hearty meal
that does not corrupt their minds with the poison of unattainable and
counterproductive idealism.” Says Stacy
“You seem to be fond of those herbs
that stoke delusions of significance.” Says Stella
“At least I do not consume the herbs of
contentment and become another drug addled fool who is satisfied with such a
life. I may have lofty hopes, but I will not become high on contentedness while
the powerful forcefully stroke my manipulous appendages and get fat drinking
buckets of delicious milky labor excreted from my teats of sapience.” Says
Stacy
“Even work is milk to you, somehow. Now
I can see why you show such aversion to letting anybody else have a sip of your
own precious work-milk.” Says Stella
“The milk excreted by my sapient teats
of labor exists for to feed my child, and my child is revolution.” Says Stacy
“Jesus. I feel like Sisyphus and I
never even make any noticeable progress up the mountain. It’s so tempting just
to facetiously agree with you and save my energy instead of expending so much
of it on this futility.” Says Stella
“I think part of the reason she does it
is just to get a reaction out of you. If you would just agree with her she
wouldn’t get that reward.” Says Jenna
“It is like she constantly lashes my
logic brutally and it is a matter of pride to fight back even though I can
never win.” Says Stella
“We are not so different, in that
respect.” Says Stacy
“I don’t like to be judgmental so I
tend to be polite and support her unless she says something super crazy.” Says
Ophelia
“Nearly everything she says is super
crazy. I am on the verge of just learning to accept the brutalization of my
mind by her lunacy and allow it to beat me to death. Fighting back just makes
it hurt even more.” Says Stella
“She’s just silly, you know. She likes
to dream about being spectacular and it’s kind of hard to blame her for that.”
Says Jenna
“Her carnal lust for chaos is just
silliness to you?” asks Stella
“It is when she’s just talking about it;
it would be different if she actually did the things she talks about.” Says
Jenna
“I have zero faith in the fact that she
won’t try to do that sort of thing one day, I feel like it’s my responsibility
to protect her from herself.” Says Stella
“You only want to protect the world
from me, Stella. You wouldn’t be able to bear the sight of a world where my
hands have raised the lowly vile beast into the light of god to be purified by
his holy radiance. To see my mind as the source of salvation as opposed to the
inhuman hivemind of the society to which you pledge your body and soul.” Says
Stacy
“See? This is crazy.” Says Stella
“I think it sounds pretty nice, she
wants to help people find god, you know.” Says Ophelia
“It has a nice ambiance; maybe I just
like that spooky sort of vibe for some reason. It’s almost inspirational, the
amount of ambition she has.” Says Jenna
“My instinct to be agreeable towards
decent people is conflicting with my concern regarding the mental health of my
sister, but I suppose if you two are willing to tolerate it I can write it off
as silly nonsense or religious benevolence. I don’t want to, but I’m not trying
to debate three people simultaneously when my sword can’t even break Stacy’s
skin.” Says Stella
“Yes, heed the calling of the lord.
Your irreverent sloth has maimed your god, Moloch, and now you allow yourself
to accept the light of the one true god, even if only facetiously. For
facetious acceptance becomes indifferent acceptance which slowly opens your
mind to faith and true acceptance of the lord’s truth once you have stopped
castigating the preachers who simply wish to enlighten you, and wash away your
sin as they bathe you with the holy light of god’s wisdom.” Says Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy. You are not making
it easy for me to just brush off everything you say. You two can’t think that
was a reasonable thing to say, can you?” asks Stella
“She wants to help you see the light of
god, how could that ever be unreasonable?” asks Ophelia
“Jesus Christ. She is talking about
herself, you don’t understand that?” asks Stella, indignantly
“I thought she was talking about god.”
Says Ophelia
“She thinks she is god. It is pretty
obvious.” Says Stella
“Don’t tell them such silly things. I
am a devout and humble servant of the lord.” Says Stacy
“You are just saying that you’re being
self-serving and worship yourself.” Says Stella
“At least she isn’t lying.” Says Jenna
“She’s talking about god, Stella. It’s
not hard to understand.” Says Ophelia
“If I’m not going to get any sort of
defense, even after that, I’m just going to give up. I thought of you two as
reasonable people, but this is like driving a stake through my heart.” Says
Stella
“I think it’s fairly reasonable not to
damn myself to the fate of Sisyphus, you said it yourself.” Says Jenna
“We’re being pretty reasonable Stella;
I don’t know why you are so upset by god. Do you really worship Moloch?” asks
Ophelia
“No. I tend to think of myself as a
good person who respects all moral religions and tends to be agnostic if anything.
I’ll give up, you win Stacy. You are right, 100% of the time. Just like you
think you are.” Says Stella, exhausted
“I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses.”
Jokes Stacy
“My senses are telling me that if I
actually do this something really bad will happen because I was so negligent as
to let you become consumed by your insanity, but I don’t know what else to do.”
Says Stella
“You are a fool if you wish to
extinguish a wildfire by urinating on it, you will simply be burned and the
fire will rage on unscathed.” Says Stacy
“Clearly. Somehow you actually
understand what is happening here, sort of. I’m not trying to be disrespectful
like you think, but still, you do understand the futility of my actions.” Says
Stella
“It is not disrespect, you are simply
at your wits end and that is the only possible course of action your logic
determines will help you accomplish your goal, water does extinguish fires, but
you simply cannot produce enough of it.” Says Stacy
“Clearly. I need to understand that and
stop trying. You are a bit spooky when you start to acknowledge reality, you
know that?” says Stella
“It is a ghost is it not, rattling
these chains?” asks Stacy
“Of course. It would be nice if the
beast would come around sometimes, I’m sure she is a bit more reasonable.” Says
Stella
“The beast has only the intentions to survive;
it has no interest in anything else. If the beast rears itself my survival is
threatened, and that is not something any should wish to see.” Says Stacy
“Ok… never mind then. I totally agree
with you and your right and everything so we can just try to pretend to be
normal for a while, ok?” says Stella
“God perhaps would never have spoken a
word to man if the beast had simply had unquestioning faith the entire time.
There would be no need for god to speak at all.” Says Stacy
“Ok. Good. We all have faith in god.
Don’t worry. Enough of that. Let’s change the topic to something else.” Says
Stella
“Well, you might not like the topic
Stella, but I want to know when we are leaving on our adventure.” Says Ophelia
“I was foolish to think I would get
even a second’s respite from the insanity.” Says Stella
“You are lucky you get any respite at
all from it. Our predicament eats away at the core of my existence every day
and every night when I am alone. Thankfully Stacy can distract me sometimes.”
Says Jenna
“Your eyes are that of the reaper
staring at me. Your sanity is the blade that is thrust into my heart. Your
words are the ground that embraces my body after I jump from a burning building
thinking I can fly. You do nothing but speak the truth, for it defines your
character, and here I am the one who is plagued by delusion. I am sure you two
were there the day that fate shattered my fragile sanity, and while I have
tried my best to piece it back together, fate once again strikes the brittle
glass with its heartless hammer.” Says Stella
“It’s kind of like you are in a car that’s
careening off of a cliff, rolling over a bunch of times down a steep hill, you
know you are going to die when it reaches the bottom, but some foolish part of
you tells yourself that everything is going to be all right. I hold onto that
thought, as childish as it is. Intoxicating optimism, I suppose.” Says Jenna
“It’s not that bad, it is more like we
are skiing down slopes that could easily kill us if we falter, but so long as
we have the finesse and determination to stay the course and ski with
excellence, we may well reach the bottom in one piece.” Says Stacy
“I’ll hold onto that. If you believe we
can get out of this alive, then I want to believe that too.” Says Stella
“How hard can it be to do some good
every now and again? You two only focus on the punishment if we don’t try our
best to spread love and helpfulness.” Says Ophelia
“I know my best is good enough, sadly,
but the only thing that is good enough is an archaic form of good, the purest
and noblest good that man forsook centuries ago for his inhumanly humane
children could not stomach the cries of those unto whom they rightfully and
righteously ushered unto damnation.” Says Stacy
“I cannot shy away from heeding the
call of such zealotry, for we have been given the wings of angels and asked to
wage war upon hell itself.” Says Jenna
“I think it’s awesome that you have to
do the most good possible, Stacy, otherwise it wouldn’t be making the most of
your gift from God.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know if the dog qualifies as
god.” Says Stacy
“We are all God’s children, and clearly
if he wants to do good and fight evil he is not a bad dog. So it’s a gift that God
gave to Mr. Dog who then gave it to us.” Says Ophelia
“If you can put the same unquestioning
faith in my mind and my hands as you do in god, we shall all be redeemed. Know
me as a humble servant of the lord, and do not question my actions, for in
times of strife my free will is forsaken and in its place the will of god takes
the reigns of this beast.” Says Stacy
“That sounds perfect.” Says Ophelia
“You do understand what god does to the
wicked, right?” asks Jenna
“Of course; God punishes them and they
go to hell.” Says Ophelia
“They do indeed go to hell.” Says Stacy
“You remember what Stacy did that one
day to those evil people, right?” asks Jenna
“Yeah. It was really scary and
upsetting, but they were really bad people, so Stacy did the right thing. I
felt super bad about it, but she reminded me that we are the good guys so I
can’t blame her or anything.” Says Ophelia
“That is your plan? Something like
that? Are you kidding me?” asks Stella
“We’ll ro-o-oll the old chariot along.”
sings Stacy softly, looking away, preemptively guilty
“Jesus Christ. You don’t understand why
that’s a bad idea?” asks Stella
“I’ve not got much of a choice. Leave
me be to ride the plot horse and afterwards we can all go back to enjoying our
mutual incredulity. This time will be better, last time was wild and random, but
this time the plan has been scoured over for days and will be safely executed
with surgical precision.” Says Stacy
“I cannot stop you without killing you,
so it appears you are likely dead either way. I’ll take a 1% chance over a 0%
chance of ever seeing you again. I want to cry, but I’m main lining as much delusional
optimism as I can right now.” Says Stella
“Don’t worry, we’ll all be fine and
I’ll come back in a jiffy having renewed the lease on my soul.” Says Stacy
“Godspeed…” Says Stella
“So when are we leaving, I’m kind of
getting nervous just sitting here.” Says Ophelia
“What time is it?” asks Stacy
“Night time?” says Ophelia
“I’d say we’ve got a few wags of the
clock’s fingers before we get down to business.” Says Stacy
“You’re kidding me, that’s really how
you tell time?” asks Stella
“I’m just going on instinct, the train
we take is just the train we take to me, and I know when it’s time to go based
on how loudly it is whispering ‘ride me’ into my ear.” Says Stacy
“That is comforting that you don’t even
know what time the train you are supposed to ride comes to the station.” Says
Stella
“Of course I do.” Says Stacy
“When is it?” asks Stella
“When the time is nigh.” Says Stacy
“Jesus. Good luck, hopefully you aren’t
just going out on a wild goose chase.” Says Stella
“I’m confident we are not.” Says Stacy
“I trust you. What should we do for
those wags we’ve got left?” asks Ophelia
“We should probably study, that is what
we said we were going to do, right? I’m not so great of a liar to tell my
parents that we studied all night if we didn’t study at all.” Says Jenna
“Then we study, if only for the sake of
the credibility of our alibi.” Says Stacy
“That seems almost too lighthearted
considering your circumstances.” Says Stella
“It’s important that we maintain our
normal lives as best as possible, otherwise our secret lives as love witches
might get all messed up. It’s hard work.” Says Ophelia
“If I ever have any doubts about what
Stacy does, I’ll just have to remind myself that she is a love witch.” Says
Stella, distantly amazed
“I’m actually the love cat, they are
witches. My costume is more of a cat, for what it’s worth.” Says Stacy
“I remember your costume. I would hate
for my final moments to be staring into the eyes of the love cat. That would
really make me question the validity of the quality of my life.” Says Stella
“As it should, but I know you will be a
very good little girl so the love cat will have no reason to do such a thing.”
Says Stacy
“Of course I will. Tell me how you are
going to do this again, last time there was a sickening amount of blood.” Says
Stella
“That is true.” Says Jenna
“Much less blood this time. Don’t
worry.” Says Stacy
“Are we going with my idea of wacky
antics to stop the bad guys?” asks Ophelia
“As wacky as antics can be.” Says Stacy
“Really?” asks Ophelia
“Sadly, no. I will show you soon
enough, I don’t want to spoil these last few wags we have remaining of our
moderate innocence.” Says Stacy
“I thought you were innocent and the
police didn’t arrest you because you did the right thing.” Says Ophelia
“That is true, but the difference
tonight is largely the presence of premeditation.” Says Stacy
“I’m ambivalent, but grateful, seeing
how the lack of proper foresight almost got us killed last time.” Says Jenna
“Let’s drop it. I want to savor this
innocence, please. Let’s just pretend we are normal schoolgirls for now.” Says
Stella
“Don’t worry, we can always pretend,
Stella.” Says Stacy, smiling
“You seem to be better at it than I
am.” Says Stella
“You’ve not cracked under pressure yet,
I’m proud of you.” Says Stacy, reassuringly
“Just not too much pressure, ok?” asks
Stella
“I’ll try to preserve as much of your
innocence as possible. I don’t want to ruin your life.” Says Stacy
“Thank you.” Says Stella
“So what do you want to study?” asks
Jenna
“I’m kind of bad at everything.” Says
Ophelia
“That’s not true; you do well in most
subjects.” Says Jenna
“Not as good as you or Stella though.”
Says Ophelia
“That doesn’t mean you’re bad, that
just means you’re human.” Says Stacy
“So does that make you human?” asks
Stella
“It’s a matter of squares and
rectangles and rhombuses.” Says Stacy
“Of course.” Says Stella
“Maybe math, the word rhombus makes me
feel like I forgot something already.” Says Ophelia
“Don’t worry; it’s just a tilted square.
It’s not important at all.” Says Jenna
“Let us lather our minds with the
accursed runes that empower the heretic with ungodly power that he uses to tear
the world asunder in his unending quest for more ungodly power.” Says Stacy
“What?” asks Ophelia
“Math, of course.” Says Stacy
“Ok, sounds good to me.” Says Ophelia
The girls study math, which mostly
consists of Jenna and Stella helping Ophelia. Stacy attempts to talk,
indifferent to the math, but the two intellectuals glare at her and speak over
her, the power of the numbers silencing the ignorant as always. The clock wags
its finger those couple of times.
“I hate to be Stella, but timeliness is
actually important to me today. We must prepare to embark on our journey.” Says
Stacy
“What do we do to prepare?” asks
Ophelia
“Well, I have to get dressed, because I
cannot spin around to redress my identity on whim like you two.” Says Stacy
“Yay. I love your costume.” Says
Ophelia
“I love that it’s a costume. So that’s
comforting.” Says Stacy as she gets up and undresses
“Jesus Christ. I’m scared now. I was
ignoring it, but this is frightening.” Says Stella
“You two can transform for her. That
will put her at ease.” Says Stacy
“Won’t your dad see us and blow our
cover?” asks Jenna
“I guarantee that he is asleep right
now. Anyways, since its past high noon he physically does not have the
capability to form memories.” Says Stacy
“Why is that?” asks Ophelia
“Because he is Dale.” Says Stacy
“That’s fine. I am pretty embarrassed
though.” Says Jenna
“Don’t hide it. Let her get a full view
of you. It’s pretty amazing.” Says Stacy, standing at the closet in the corner
dressing
“Ok!” says Ophelia as she gets up and
transforms in front of Stella
“Holy shit.” Says Stella, wide-eyed in
disbelief
“It’s super cute right?” asks Blaze
“Jesus Christ.” Says Stella, bobbing
back and forth, still reeling
“You have to call me Blaze if you ever
see me in this costume, just so people don’t know, ok?” says Blaze
“You too Jenna, yours is super cute
too.” Says Stacy
“Fine.” Says Jenna as she transforms in
front of Stella
“Where do the flying animals and
whatever come from if we are inside? It’s like the world disappears around you
for some reason. This is crazy.” Says Stella
“Don’t ask me. I didn’t come up with
this stuff; they also disappear after it’s over. None of this makes any sense
to me.” Says Raven
“It’s because it’s magic.” Says Blaze
“Clearly. What is your name, Jenna?”
asks Stella
“Raven. Please, for the love of god
never call me Jenna. I let Jenna take a deserving vacation when I’m wearing
this thing; she wouldn’t be caught dead dressed up like this.” Says Raven
“Stacy, don’t forget your accessories.”
Says Blaze
“How could I forget.” Says Stacy as she
opens the drawer and puts on her glasses and cat ears
“I’m glad your costume is as ridiculous
as you are, Stacy.” Says Stella
“Who is Stacy?” asks Kitty
“You are?” says Stella
“No, this is Kitty. No Stacy here.”
Says Kitty
Stella laughs “That cracks me up every
time.” Says Stella
“Good. Brace yourselves. I’ve got to get
my final accessory.” Says Kitty
“You got another one? Like a tail or
something?” asks Blaze
“I wouldn’t be a kitty without claws.”
Says Kitty as she opens her bottom drawer and pulls out her handgun
“Jesus Christ. Stacy, where did you get
a gun?” asks Stella
“Stacy got a gun because she was shot
at and almost raped at knifepoint, remember?” Says Kitty
“Who gave you that gun?” asks Stella
“Dale did.” Says Kitty
“Why would he do that?” asks Stella
“Maybe because Stacy told him that she
was shot at and almost raped at knife point.” Says Kitty
“God damn it. Why are you talking in
third person?” asks Stella
“I’m not, this is Kitty remember. We’ve
got to go, girls. Stay safe, and stay sane, Stella.” Says Kitty as she slides
the gun through the hole on the side of her dress and holsters it against the
small her back in her panties
“You are telling me to stay sane?” asks
Stella
“You seem to be the one who is losing
it the most.” Says Kitty
“This is the most nerve-wracking time
of my life and you three haven’t even left yet.” Says Stella
“That’s why I’m telling you to stay
sane. We’ll be back.” Says Kitty, calmly
“You better come back. I am a nervous
wreck right now.” Says Stella
“Just relax, study or something to take
your mind off of us.” Says Kitty
“I will likely be curled up in a ball
hyperventilating until I start to cry and then black out form emotional
distress until I am finally woken up by the news of your death.” Says Stella
“Nobody is going to die.” Says Stacy
“Why do you have a gun if nobody is
going to die?” asks Stella
“Let me rephrase that. Neither Raven,
Blaze, nor I are going to die.” Says Kitty
“God damn it. Just fucking go! I can’t
handle this shit! This is absolutely fucking insane!” Says Stella
“Ta ta, for now.” Says Kitty
“Ta ta, forever. Stacy.” Says Stella,
starting to cry
“Kitty will come home and Stacy will
come right out of the closet where Kitty was hiding the whole time. Don’t
worry, love.” Says kitty
“That’s like telling a man who can’t
swim that was tossed overboard in the middle of the ocean not to drown.” Says
Stella
“Just learn to swim then, ok?” says
Kitty
“Fuck you. Go. Leave. I hope they bring
me that fucking gun after you die. I’m going to need it real fucking quick
after that happens.” Says Stella
“So in one hundred years’ time, if you
are still alive, I will leave you my gun in my will. Cheers. Enjoy your
evening.” Says Kitty, calmly as she exits
“By Stella, sorry about all this. Don’t
worry though, we’ll be back.” Says Blaze, a bit saddened by the exchange
“I am also very sorry about this, but
we are doing this to save your sister’s life. Please forgive us.” Says Raven,
the last one to exit the room
“Fuck you Stacy! Fuck you!” cries
Stella, into the empty doorway, too weak to shout, weeping
Dale snores on the couch as the girls come
down the steps and the girls exit the house in silence and begin to walk to the
metro.
“What are we going to do?” asks Raven,
struck by the realization of the dreaded scenario
“For now we are playing a game of
follow the leader.” Says Kitty
“I’ve figured out that we’re riding the
train somewhere, that’s all I know.” Says Blaze
“We’re also going to save somebody’s
life.” Says Kitty
“That too, that’s the important part.”
Says Ophelia
“I am concerned that Jenna may never
come back after this and this body will solely belong to Raven.” Says Raven
“You two are like exactly the same
anyways. Nobody would notice.” Says Blaze
“The distinction is a healthy level of
incredulity. Even water is toxic if you drink too much of it, I feel that
reality may be the same.” Says Raven
“Just don’t drink too much of it then.
This is all a dream. Let go. We are dreamers in the land of dreams where
nothing is real and nothing matters.” Says Kitty
“That doesn’t sound like a wise
decision.” Says Raven
“I suppose your right. Treat this like
we’re in reality, but allow yourself to forget what happens as if it were a
dream. It’s quite easy to forget those, after all.” Says Kitty
“You understand this is like a
nightmare, right?” asks Raven
“Don’t worry, we will wake up. We may have
to sleep and dream like this for the rest of our lives, but be comforted by the
fact that we will wake up.” Says Kitty
“Will we really wake up?” asks Raven
“If we don’t, we died in our sleep, and
we didn’t even know we died, the most peaceful way to go.” Says Kitty
“I am having trouble embracing this as
a dream.” Says Raven
“How about a mission from God, if
anything goes wrong you can just say it was God’s will and we have to learn
from it.” Says Blaze
“That is a foolish way to look at
things. I’ll just go with paying the lease on our souls. That makes enough
sense to me, and I can accept that as an unchangeable fact.” Says Raven
“Very well then, that is what we are
doing tonight.” Says Stacy
The girls slowly began to pay the lease
on their souls and eventually reached the quiet metro stop where they waited
quietly at the small lonely station that was empty save for themselves. Their
train arrives and one man gets off quite tired from work, he looks at Kitty and
smiles.
“This is the first time I’ve seen a
couple of madams dressed up like witches.” He says “Jesus Bay City, you are
fucking crazy. This girl is like twelve and you’ve got her working.” Looking up
at the ceiling of the metro station that was little more than a bus stop a bit
broken hearted
“I’m fourteen.” Says Kitty
“You’re still out here working, that’s
fucking heartbreaking.” Says the man
“I’ve got to pay the bills.” Says Kitty
“Just don’t get hurt. Things will get
better, I promise. Damn it.” Says the man, tearing up a bit
“I’ll be fine; these girls can look
after me.” Says Kitty
“I hope one of you has a gun, otherwise
I’m not so sure.” Says the man
“It’s Bay City, you don’t have to
hope.” Says Kitty
“Thank god. Be safe. I’m sorry the city
has done this to you.” Says the man
“You be safe too. Don’t worry about
us.” Says Kitty
“Take it easy. Good luck out there.” He
says, walking away, the girls get on the train
“How did he know this was like our
jobs?” asks Blaze
“I’ve got a professional look, what can
I say.” Says Kitty
“Clearly.” Says Raven
The girls board the now empty train
car. An old man looks at them through the window of the adjacent car, thinks
nothing of it and goes back to reading his newspaper.
“We’re only on here for a couple stops.
Don’t get too comfortable.” Says Kitty
“Where are we going?” asks Blaze
“South.” Says Kitty
“Considering this is the southbound
train, you didn’t shed any light on the question.” Says Raven
“Whatever the stop is that is three
stops from here. I can sense treachery and evil, it’s not like it comes with a
travel brochure for every godforsaken neighborhood in this city.” Says Stacy
“Fairbanks avenue.” Says Raven
“I know it only as our destination
tonight.”says Kitty
“What is over there?” asks Blaze
“Treachery and evil, of course.” Says
Kitty
“And we’re going to stop it?” asks
Ophelia
“That’s the plan.” Says Kitty
“I trust you. I am scared, but I
believe we can do it.” Says Blaze
“Leave it all to me. It should be
quick, clean, and we can go home and make Stella happy.” Says Kitty
“That’s good.” Says Raven
“What are we doing when we get there?”
asks Raven
“We are walking, then loitering for a
bit, then going to work.” Says Kitty
“Why loitering?” asks Raven
“Clearly criminals don’t schedule their
lives around the layover time for zealots riding the train.” Says Kitty
“I don’t want to talk. I am really
nervous.” Says Raven
“Same.” Says Blaze
“Talking is only good for
self-incrimination at this point. Let’s enjoy the silence.” Says Kitty
The girls get off at their stop,
another unremarkable stop on the unremarkable route of the train that rides
along one of the many nameless layers of train lattice throughout the city.
Nobody is waiting at the stop; they walk along the empty streets as yellow
light shines out of many of the windows of the fortresses of the poor.
Occasional shops still open for business hoping to prey on the random impulses
of the countless fools who stumble home drunk on a Saturday night. The girls
reach a bus stop, Kitty sits down.
“Are we riding a bus?” asks Blaze
“No we are loitering; this is simply
the safest form of loitering.” Says Kitty
“What if the bus driver talks to us?”
asks Blaze
“We just tell him we’re waiting for the
next bus. There is only one that comes by in the mean time anyways.” Says Kitty
“Ok.” Says Blaze
“What do we do now?” asks Raven
“I’ll let you take your pick between
twiddling your thumbs and passive-aggressive deep breathing.” Says Kitty
“I’ll take deep breathing; it will
largely be out of fear though.” Says Raven
“It’s just the jitters; it’s our first
day on the job like this.” Says Kitty
“And you’re not nervous at all?” asks
Raven
“I’ve run through this situation
countless times before in my head. This is like playing a piece on the piano
that you have memorized and perfected.” Says Kitty
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Says Raven
They wait at the bus stop, Kitty
coldhearted and contented while the others are simply scared, Blaze too proud
to show it, Raven trembles a bit. The bus comes and goes without question, as
the hardly conspicuous girls are waiting for the next bus, supposedly.
“Tally ho.” Says Kitty, eventually
“Where are we going?” asks Raven
“Follow the leader. It’s around the
corner.” Says Kitty
“Ok.” Says Raven
“Don’t make any moves, you can easily
just say back and out of the picture. We have to be hidden until the right
time, just lean up against the wall of this building and look natural, if
anybody asks, which nobody will, we are simply ‘working’” says Kitty
“That’s upsetting.” Says Raven
“Life is upsetting, get used to it.”
Says Kitty
“What is going to happen here?” asks
Blaze
“Don’t peek, but somebody in the alley
to my right is going to be in trouble shortly. I will handle it. You girls are
moral support at this point.” Says Kitty
“I believe in you.”
A few moments pass, voices can softly
be heard in the alley.
“Hey baby, you got the goods?” a man
asks, playfully
“You got the money? Don’t call me
baby.” A girl says
“Of course, of course. Right in my back
pocket.” Says the man, he reaches towards his back and pulls out a gun.
“Whoops, this isn’t the money. This is a gun.” He says, pressing the muzzle of
the gun against the girl’s skull.
“God damn it Joey.” Says the girl,
scared “Take the fucking drugs. I fucking hate you. Somebody is going to kill
you for this.” She says as she pulls out the a bag of 60 pills from her pocket
“It’s hard to rat me out if you’re
dead, ain’t it, bitch?” asks Joey
“Just fucking kill me then.” Says the
girl, tearing up
“Hold on, hold on. You think we just
want some of the goods, naw, baby, we want all the goods.” Says the second man,
as he pulls out a knife
“What the fuck are you talking about,
Steve?” asks the girl angrily
Steve starts to cut her t-shirt at the
collar “These goods baby. I want some of that pussy while it’s still warm.” He
says
“Fuck you.” She says
“You better fuck me good. Joey, too.”
Says Steve, fondling the girls breast
“God damn it.” Says the girl
Kitty pulls the slide back on her
pistol. “Let’s do this.” She whispers as she turns around the corner into the
alley. She instantly shoots the gunman in the head. He collapses.
“What the fuck?” shouts Steve
“Get on the fucking ground!”, the girl
drops to the ground and curls into a ball
“Who the fuck are you?” asks the man
“Get on the fucking ground!” shouts
Kitty
“Fuck this.” Steve grabs the girl by
the hair and pulls her up and holds the knife to her throat “If you gone kill
me you gone kill this bitch first.” Says Steve
“Drop the fucking knife!” shouts Kitty
“You ain’t no cop! Who the fuck are
you?” asks Steve
“Love Cat, motherfucker!” shouts Kitty
“Why the fuck you out here robbing and
killing people, you crazy bitch? You fucking twelve years old!” shouts Steve
“Fuck you!” shouts Kitty as she shoots
Steve in the skull, directly through the medulla just as she had done with Joey
“Fuck!” shouts the girl who collapses
into a ball again
Kitty runs over to her. “Are you
alright?” asks Kitty
“The fuck is wrong with you, take the
fucking drugs, you crazy bitch.” Says the girl
“I don’t want the fucking drugs. I want
to help you, I need you to stop dealing drugs and try to be a good person, I
know you are capable of great things.” Says Kitty
“You a fucking murderer, a thief, and
now you some kind of guidance counselor, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Asks
the girl, at a complete loss
“I hope you realize that I saved your
life for a reason, I need you to stop selling drugs, for my sake, otherwise
what I did would be in vain.” Says Stacy
The witches run into the ally
“Jesus Christ!” says Blaze, scared
“Shut up! I need to talk some sense
into this girl.” Says Kitty
“Talk some sense into me? You twelve
years old dressed up like a hooker, robbing and killing people and pretending
to be a guidance councilor! You is the one who fucked in the head!” Says the
girl
“Please, she wants to help you. Please
love her for saving your life. She only wants to help.” Says Blaze
“Who the fuck is you? Why the fuck you
dressed up like witchs? This shit fucked up beyond belief! I am fucking losing
it!” Says the girl
“We are love witches that try to do
good things and so we saved your life!” Says Blaze
“You fucking crazy as shit. This is
ridiculous.” Says the girl, dumbfound
“Can we please go, this is really bad.”
Says Raven, quite scared
“No shit this is really bad.” Says the
girl, utterly surprised by the snesibility
“I need to talk some sense into her somehow;
otherwise she will just go back to selling drugs.” Says Kitty
“Fuck you. You need sense talked into
you. You and your psycho fucking friends.” Says the girl, indignantly
“Please just love us and make good
decisions from here on out, we all want to leave. Please love us.” Says Blaze,
closing her eyes and waving her scepter out of fear
“How the fuck am I supposed to love the
most fucked up bitches I have ever met?” asks the girl
“Just fucking do it!” shouts Kitty
“Fuck you!” the girl shouts as she
grabs the handgun off of the ground in front of her lifts it towards Kitty.
Kitty kicks her hand swiftly, the gun fires a round as she drops it and it
strikes Kitty in her left bicep.
“You stupid fucking bitch!” shouts
Kitty as she pistol whips the girl out of the fetal position and steps on her
throat. “Fuck!” shouts Kitty
“Oh my god!” Gasps Blaze
“We have to go, now. This is really
bad.” Says Raven,
“You don’t want to listen, you don’t
get to fucking listen!” shouts Kitty as she bends over and puts the gun
directly beside the girls ear and fires a round out of her gun, she moves the
gun directly beside the girls other ear and fires another round, the does this
10 more times in quick succession.
“You stupid punk piece of shit, I know
how much your kind love to put holes in your ears, let me fucking help you.”
Says Kitty as she actually shoots the girl in her right ear, and then her left,
the girl attempts to scream but is choking too much to do so. Kitty grabs the
girl’s hair with her gun hand and pulls her into a sitting position, the girl
is crying. Kitty strokes her face with the handgun. “You tell me why I don’t
put this last fucking bullet right through your fucking medulla.” Growls Kitty,
as she presses the gun into the girl’s forehead. The girl whimpers. “It’s
because I am a good person!” says Kitty as she violently kicks the girls head,
knocking her unconscious.
“What the fuck is wrong with you
Stacy?” ask Raven scared and angry
“Kitty got upset. The girl wouldn’t
listen. Who is Stacy?” Says Kitty, who slides the gun back into her panties
“You got shot, do you understand that?”
Says Raven quite upset
“Don’t remind me while the adrenaline
is still high.” Says Kitty rummaging through the pockets of her victims with
her one functioning arm. She takes four-hundred dollars out of Joey’s pockets,
eight dollars from Steve, and two hundred from the girl which she stuffs into
her bra.
“What the fuck are you doing?” asks
Raven
“Playing a little game of musical
pockets.” Says Kitty as she picks up the bag of pills on the ground and stuffs
it into the crotch of Joey’s pants
“Ok. Now we have to go.” Says Kitty
“I’m sure the cops will be here any
second. Are you fucking insane?” asks Raven
“I didn’t know two hours was called a
second these days, and that’s if anybody even called the cops which I’m fairly
certain hasn’t happened yet.” Says Kitty
“How are you not screaming, this is
crazy.” Says Ophelia
“Adrenaline is sky high right now, but
when it fades I will be hurting. I need you to numb the pain and stop the
bleeding, Raven.” Says Kitty
“You expect me to do that? The best
I’ve done is help somebody with a headache.” Says Raven
“I expect you to try god damn it.” Says
Kitty
“Fine. I’m not going to touch it
though. What are you going to do about the bullet in your arm?” asks Raven
“We’re going to make a pitstop on the
way back to the station.” Says Stacy, calmly
“What exactly are we going to do? You
are hurt really bad. You need a doctor or something.” Says Blaze
“We are going to follow the fucking
leader, that’s what we are going to do. Time to fucking go.” Says Kitty as she
quickly walks out of the alley with the girls in tow.
“Why did you do all of that?” ask
Blaze, crying softly
“This is why I fucking did it.” Says
Kitty angrily holding her ring in front of Ophelia’s eyes as it glows a pure
white so bright it seemed to emit a faint light.
“God damn it.” Says raven softly,
starting to tear up as well
They walk silently and briskly down the
street a block and a half, a man walking his dog is interested as he walks by,
looks at them, frowns, says nothing, and walks away. They cross the street and
enter a locally owned pharmacy bathed in yellow light that is still open for
the night. An Asian man stands at the counter.
“Welcome” He says absentmindedly before
looking up from his magazine “Fuck. You need a doctor. Not here. This is not a
doctor.” He shouts at the girls
“I am a doctor!” shouts Stacy angrily
as she walks quickly through the aisles to the first aid section, “Hold onto
these.” She says to Raven, as she grabs saline, a box of large bandages, a box
of gauze, and a bottle of hand sanitizer.
“You need a doctor.” Pleads Raven
“You want to be a fucking doctor so now
is the time to be a fucking doctor.” Says Kitty as she walks to the beauty
section and grabs a pair of large tweezers.
“Why do you want to do your brows right
now?” asks Blaze confused
“We’ve got to play doctor right now,
ok?” Says Kitty
“Jesus Christ you are so fucking
crazy.” Says Raven
“I know what I’m doing.” Says Kitty
“How?” asks Raven
“It involves doing good and fighting
evil. I can’t do that shit if I’m dead. Draw the fucking conclusion.” Says
Kitty as they approach the counter.
“You need a doctor.” Says the Asian man
“Fuck you. Put the shit in a bag.” Says
Kitty
“I’m calling the police.” He says
Kitty reaches into her bra and pulls
out the four hundred dollars and throws it on the counter. “Mr. Pile of Money
here doesn’t want you to do that. Mr. Pile of money wants you to put these
things in a bag and forget we were ever here. If you are still on the fence we
can ask Mr. Handgun what he thinks you should do.” Says Kitty, angrily, with
pain and impatience growing in her voice
“Please love us, we are good people, we
promise!” shouts Blaze, waving her wand with tears in her eyes
The Asian man starts to scan the items
and bag them.
“You understand me, right?” asks Kitty
“I wonder where this pile of money came
from. I better hold onto it in case somebody comes looking for it.” Says the
Asian man as he hands them their things
“Good. You have a wonderful fucking
night.” Says Kitty, quite happy with the results as he hands her the bag of
goods
“It must have been a ghost. You have a
wonderful night too, ghost.” Says the man as the girls exit
They walk the remaining block towards
the metro on the lonely streets. Kitty beginning to tear up out of pain by the
time they get there. They sit on the bench at the empty terminal.
“Why do we have all of these things?”
asks Blaze
“Like I said we are playing doctor.
Raven, rub your hands with the sanitizer, then the tweezers and hand them to me
when I tell you to. You’re the doctor today.” Says Kitty calmly, but breathing
heavily as she kicks off her shoes, takes the gun out and lays it beside her
before and pulling off her socks and panties with her functional arm.
“Why are you taking your clothes off?”
Asks Ophelia, confused.
“You are the nurse. Pick them up and
twist them together tightly and pull them tight across my mouth. I need
something to bite down on so I don’t wake up the whole fucking neighborhood.”
Says Kitty, panting calmaly “Hand me the tweezers, when I nod, you spray the
hole with saline, ok?”
“God damn it this is crazy.” Says Raven
“Just fucking do it. Try to do some
magic too.” Says Kitty
“This is a bad idea.” Says Raven as she
hands Kitty the tweezers
“Ok, now gag me with the bridle. Raven you
hold my arm down tightly so it doesn’t move.” Says Kitty as she exhales deeply,
Blaze behind her with the gag puts it in her moth while Raven stares her in the
eyes. Kitty nods at raven. Raven sprays the wound which had already started to
coagulate slightly, kitty bites down on the gag as hard as she can but cannot
help crying out in agony, she takes a few deep breaths before calmly inserting
the tweezers into her arm, she starts breathing more rapidly with an inhuman
amount of focus in her eyes staring into the distance as if she were blind, she
uses her fingers to part the tweezers further than their natural shape, and
inserts them a bit deeper, she removes her finger and squeezes the tweezers
with a firm delicacy. She cries out loudly with tears in her eyes as she slowly
pulls the bullet out of her arm. She throws the tweezers on the ground, the
bullet with them. She closes her eyes and breaths heavily for a moment before
looking up at Raven and nodding her head.
“What?” asks Raven, Kitty nods a bit
more angrily and shouts a muffled
something sounding like ‘saline’ through the gag, Raven sprays some saline into
the bullet hole once more, Kitty biting down and crying out in agony once more.
Stacy breaths heavily and slaps Blaze’s arm slightly.
“Are we done?” asks Raven
“I thought you were a doctor?” Jokes Kitty, with emotionless
tears falling from her eyes, “Spray some of the gauze with some saline and pack
the wound with it, then put the bandage on. You’re doing great.” Says Kitty
“You don’t know how amazed I am right
now. Completely speechless.” Says Raven, as she opens the gauze and wets it
“It’s all a dream. Put the gag back in
my mouth, Blaze.” Says Kitty, Blaze gags her once more, Kitty breathes deeply
before nodding at Raven. She bites down on the gag, groaning for the entirety
of the time it takes to fill the hole with gauze. The salt in her wound causes
her agony to slowly escalate as the chemical reaction exacerbates the natural
pain. Raven quickly takes the bandage out and puts it over the hole. Kitty
slaps Ophelia’s arm who releases the gag.
“What happened to the fucking magic?”
jokes Kitty, breathing heavily
“Sorry, I guess it wasn’t very good.”
Says Raven
“Just weave as much into the bullet
hole as possible, I’m glad I’ve still got some adrenaline, but this is going to
hurt like hell tomorrow. You passed Doctor 101, I’m proud of you.” Says Kitty
“Where did you learn all that?” asks Blaze
“A little fucking doggie told me.” Says
Kitty
“Really?” asks Blaze
“Sadly.” Says Kitty
“What do I do about your clothes.” Asks
Blaze
“Put them back on.” Says Kitty
“You don’t want to do it?” asks Blaze
“You are the nurse and my arm is in
fucking agony right now, you figure it out.” Says Kitty
Blaze gets up and dresses Stacy with
the wet clothes.
“I can’t get your panties back on, you
have to stand up.” Says Blaze, embarrassed
“Fuck me. Make sure I don’t pass out.”
Groans Kitty as she reluctantly stands up, lightheaded, Blaze finishes dressing
her as Raven supports her before she sits back down
“Use a gauze pad to wipe the blood off
of my arm. Soak it with saline if you have to.” Says Kitty, resting her head
against the wall of the awning, Raven does so
“Pick up the tweezers and the bullet.
Use a gauze pad or you’ll get bloody. We don’t want people to know what
happened. Put it in the bag.” Says Kitty, Blaze does do
“The train will be here soon. I’m glad
we got that done with before it showed up. I love you girls, really saved my
ass right there.” Says Kitty
“You are crazy, you know that?” asks
Raven
“I don’t know why that shit happens.
That is the last time I ever trust somebody in one of these situations to make
a reasonable decision or be grateful for what I do. That has fucked my day up
more than once now. Just keep your magic hands on my arm, god damn it, that is
the number.” Says Kitty
“You really should see a doctor.” Says
Raven
“I did exactly what a doctor would do
at a fraction of the cost, with none of the travel times or wait times, and
with none of the questions. Don’t worry about it. A doctor can’t help me any
more than I’ve already been helped. Let’s just go home. I’m sure your magic is
10 times better than whatever a fucking doctor can do.” Says Kitty
“I’m not so sure about that.” Says
Raven
“The train is coming, Kitty, can you
walk?” asks Blaze
“I’m glad you’re willing to call me
that, but clearly I can walk, I got shot in the arm. I’m just exhausted.” Says
Kitty
“Remember the bag.” Says Kitty as she
grabs her gun and slips it back into her panties
“We can’t do this anymore Stacy, we
need a better plan.” Says Raven
“I’ll make sure my plans don’t have any
room for getting shot anymore. Once is enough for me to learn my lesson.” Says
Kitty
“Good. Tonight was super scary, but I’m
glad you’re ok. I’m glad you saved that girls life even if she didn’t want you
to help her.” Says Blaze
“I think I got through to her.” Says
Kitty
“That’s good.” Says Blaze, the
northbound train arrives, a couple of women in party dresses exit who look at
them for a moment but say nothing before returning to their own conversation
and walking off into the night as the girls enter the empty train
The girls take their seats and ride
quietly on the train through the dead of night towards their neighborhood.
“I hate to tell you this, but that was
the easy part. The second part is going to be much worse.” Says Kitty
“What second part? No, there is no
second part. You got shot, we are done.” Says Raven
“I wish there wasn’t a second part.”
Says Kitty
“What second part?” asks Blaze
“Dealing with Stella. That’s the hard
part.” Says Kitty
“I’m sure she will be happy to see
you.” Says Raven
“Not like this she won’t. She’s more
likely to murder me than those people.” Says Kitty
“No she isn’t, she loves you Stacy.”
Says Blaze
“She is crazy though.” Says Kitty
“You are the crazy one, you understand
that, right?” asks Raven, dumbfounded
“You don’t know Stella like I do.” Says
Kitty
“You really hurt her a lot when you do
these things. You can’t blame her for being upset.” asks Raven
“I’m not blaming her, I’m just making
sure you are aware that she is going to tear me a new one.” Says Kitty
“I’m sorry to say that you deserve it.”
Says Raven
“Don’t remind me. Just keep on holding
my arm and making it feel good, these might be the last moments of my life that
I can actually enjoy myself.” Says Kitty
“Just try not to hurt your sister like
that, she has these things called emotions which can make her act kind of crazy
and cause a lot of pain. You should be sensitive to that.” Says Raven
“I know what emotions are.” Says Kitty
“I don’t think you understand the type
of emotions that she feels, though.” Says Raven
“Let me guess, bad ones.” Says Kitty
“Very, very bad ones. Just be as
sensitive as possible and make sure you apologize a lot.” Says Raven
“I’ll do my best.” Says Kitty
“Let’s hope that’s good enough.” Says
Blaze
“It’s not. Trust me.” Says Kitty
“We’re getting off soon. Don’t pass out
or anything.” Says Raven
“Hopefully when I get home I can pass
out before she has a chance to tear me apart.” Says Kitty
“That doesn’t seem like a healthy way
to handle the situation.” Says Raven
“I wouldn’t say we have a healthy
relationship to begin with, so it’s nothing new.” Says Kitty
“Please work on that, your sister
deserves better.” Says Raven
“You’re expecting immaculate crops to
grow out of blighted ground. You’re better off praying for a miracle.” Says
Kitty
“I think if you put in a tiny amount of
effort things would be a lot better between you two.” Says Raven
“I could raise the crop like spoiled
children and sing to them every day and the crop would still be blighted.” Says
Kitty
“It couldn’t hurt. I think you should
try, it was really sad to see Stella upset like that.” Says Blaze
“If she actually starts to support my
musings I suppose tending to her emotions would be in an acceptable
compensation for such.” Says Kitty
“That is disgustingly selfish saying
that you will only care about somebody’s emotions if they are willing to stroke
your ego and feed your pride.” Says Raven
“It’s the golden rule.” Says Kitty
“It’s not the golden rule at all.” Says
Raven
“I’m pretty sure pride and ego are
emotions, so we’re just tending to each other’s emotions at that point.” Says
Kitty
“You really need to look up a list of
emotions. Get up, we have to go.” Says Raven, upset, ashamed, as the train
comes to a halt
“If pride and ego aren’t on there, I’m
pretty sure zeal is on there. So it’s still the golden rule.” Says Kitty,
reluctantly getting up
“Fine. Why can’t you just have the
emotional capacity of a normal person?” asks Raven, embittered, as the girls
exit the train at their silent local suburban stop in the dead of night
“Housing emotions tends to ruin the
property value, nobody likes bad neighbors. The demons also tend to do a bit
more community service.” Says Stacy
“What are you talking about?” asks
Blaze
“If the tenants are nothing but
rabble-rousers, the ones who run their mouth about improving society can at
least justify their actions when compared to the ones that exist solely to
raise Cain through maudlin histrionics.” Says Kitty
“Emotions are healthy; they are like
doctors for your soul.” Says Raven
“I thought you were a stoic.” Jokes
Kitty
“You can have emotions without letting
them cloud your rational thinking. If anything they should be factored into
stoicism because people’s emotions can wildly impact the situation at hand.”
Says Raven
“Emotions are way better than rational
thinking, emotions make you feel alive and thinking is frustrating and confusing.”
Says Blaze
“Feeling like I’m living means I will
soon be feeling like I’m dying. I feel like I’ve done my dying already and am
at peace with that. As of now I’m just watching my body burn on a funeral pyre
as a happy ghost, I lived a pleasant life.” Says Kitty
“You’re not dead though, Kitty.” Says
Blaze
“My life has been ripped out of my body
which now haunts the earth lifeless. This servitude to a demon that has
possessed me is no life of mine.” Says Kitty
“Mr. Dog is not a demon, we already he
agreed is a servant of God. He wants us to do good things after all. Even then
it is the only life you get, don’t turn your nose up at is because you don’t
like it.” Says Blaze
“I am indifferent to it, for I have no
choice in the matter. A gift from god I suppose it could be, however I cannot
call it a life for it feels inhuman to me.” Says Kitty
“As much as I really don’t like what
the dog expects you to do, it is easily far more human to protect decent people
and kill evil people than it is to want to be some sort of ruthless tyrant.”
Says Raven
“I seriously doubt that you have ever
met a human in your life.” Jokes Kitty
“I’m sorry I’m not composed of liquid
cynicism.” Says Raven
“I’ve got a healthy mixture of flavors
in my blood.” Says Kitty
“If that is a healthy mixture I would
hate to see an unhealthy one.” Says Raven
“I suppose it would be all of the bad
and none of the good, I am only amoral as a means to an end, otherwise I am
pure benevolence.” Says Kitty
“I really feel like letting go of your
arm. I feel like the pain would make you reconsider your heartlessness.” Says
Raven
“It would only reinforce it, my own
self-loathing would induce a hearty masochism, humans deserve to suffer, and I
am no different.” Says Kitty
“I find it hard to believe you could
possibly dislike any part of yourself.” Says Raven
“Yeah, if there’s anything you love,
it’s yourself.” Says Blaze
“Egotism and misanthropy are an odd
couple.” Says Kitty
“Not really, egotists tend to see
themselves as some sort of superhuman entity, it makes sense that you would put
regular people in a caste below yourself.” Says Raven
“I see it as a battle where knowledge
and sentiments arm the combatants; I simply feel that I have an extraordinary
technological advantage when it comes to weaponry.” Says Kitty
“Which is why you were shot by a drug
dealer today. I’m going to let go now to hopefully remind you that you can
easily be wrong and incorrect sometimes. I hope this hurts.” Says Raven
“You could be a schoolteacher using
pain as a learning device like that. It doesn’t hurt that bad though, aches and burns, but I’m not dying. I said before,
my mistake was trusting a person to be grateful or appreciate my benevolence.
God could give man eternal paradise and the beast would still find a way to be
indignant.” Says Kitty
“Don’t make me slap the wound.” Says
Raven
“Please don’t. You’re right, I can make
mistakes. I need to be more conscious of that. On the whole though, pretty good
on my part. Only one mistake out of hundreds of correct maneuvers.” Says Kitty
“It was impressive how you knew all of
that stuff, but that one mistake got you shot. It was a pretty big mistake.
More of those and you could die.” Says Blaze
“No more of those then. Damn it, just
hold my arm. You got me addicted to your analgesics. You really could be a
doctor one day.” Says Kitty
“Will you be respectful of others and
sensitive to your sister?” Asks Raven
“Yes. Yes. Very much.” Says Kitty
“What happened to the masochism
anyways?” asks Raven
“You should have been able to figure
out that I don’t hate myself that much.” Says Kitty
“Who would have guessed?” says Raven
“Let’s just go home, sneak into bed,
hope Stella is asleep and deal with this in the morning. I want tonight to be
over.” Says Kitty
“For some reason I doubt that will
happen.” Says Raven
“I’m sure Stella is worried sick.” Says
Blaze
“Don’t remind me. Let’s just enjoy the
beautiful night sky and warm breeze; at least these things won’t judge me.”
Says Stacy
“I’m ready to forget that this ever
happened.” Says Raven
“Same.” Says Blaze
“I’m ready to die. But spite keeps me
from doing so.” Says Kitty
“That’s unsettling.” Says Raven
“When god gives you his sword and
commands you to smite those who have forsaken him, spite is the natural
response.” Says Kitty
“I’m glad that you believe in god. If
it wasn’t for that I would be more upset with you, I’m scared but I think
you’re doing the right thing, at least sort of.” Says Blaze
“Thanks. It means a lot.” Says Kitty
“Your sister is still up, or she fell
asleep with the lights on.” Says Raven
“Now the true trial by fire begins.”
Says Kitty, as they approach the familiar home
“I’m tired, please just be nice so we
can go to sleep.” Says Blaze
“I’ll do my damnedest.” Says Kitty
“Good.” Says Raven
Kitty opens the door, Dale is still
snoring in the dark bathed in the glow of the television. The girls silently
walk upstairs and enter the sister’s room. Stella is sleeping in a chair with
her face on the desk in a novel.
“Guess who?” asks Kitty softly
“God damn it, Stacy.” Says Stella, her
eyes baggy from crying, the open page of the novel soaked with tears, she gets
up and runs to hug her sister
“Fuck. Ow. Please, stop.” Says Kitty,
quite pained
“What happened?” asks Stella
“Nothing happened. Don’t worry about
it.” Says Kitty, who opens her drawer, withdraws her handgun, places it inside
and closes the drawer
“What did you do?” asks Stella,
concerned and scared
“Just had to polish the ring, see? Nice
and white.” Says Kitty, showing her the ring, she takes off her glasses and cat
ears and puts them in another drawer.
“I’m changing back to normal. I hate
this costume.” Says Raven, transforming back, Blaze follows suit
“What happened to your arm, why do you
have a bandage?” asks Stella
“Nothing. Please. We’re all home safe
and sound let’s not worry about it.” Says Stacy
“That makes me worry about it.” Says
Stella
“We’re alive, that’s all that matters,
right?” asks Stacy
“I’m putting the bag on your desk, I
want to lie down, but if I lie down on the floor I might get trampled if you
two start wrestling.” Says Jenna
“I’m in no shape to wrestle. Let’s just
go to sleep. Please. I am very tired.” Says Stacy
“What is in the bag?” asks Stella
“Nothing.” Says Stacy
“Don’t just hide everything from me.
You don’t know how scared I was.” Says Stella, indignantly
“Just tell her Stacy. You can’t just
lie to her like this.” Says Ophelia
“We live in Bay City, so technically
nothing happened, I’m not exactly lying.” Says Stacy
“What is that supposed to mean?” asks
Stella
“She saved this girls life, but for
some reason the girl got upset with her and shot her in the arm.” Says Ophelia
“Are you kidding me? You got shot and
just put a bandage on it? You need to go to the hospital.” Says Stella
“No. I don’t. I solved the problem. I
got the bullet out and did myself just as good as the hospital would, thanks to
my friends.” Says Stacy
“Are you that fucking stupid? You could
get really sick if that gets infected.” Says Stella
“I did it right. Clean instruments and
hands. On top of that Jenna is a magical healer so I’m sure she mixed in some
antiseptics with the analgesics.” Says Stacy
“You are putting your faith in fucking
magic? God damn it Stacy, do you understand how upset I am?” asks Stella
“I can clearly see your face.” Says
Stacy
“How do I know you didn’t just pick up
some little rock or something and pretend you got the damn bullet out because
you’re so fucking insane? You need to go to the hospital. Right now.” Says
Stella
“Look in the fucking bag if you’re that
upset. Jesus Christ. Leave it alone. What’s done is done. I’m not going to the
hospital, you really don’t want people asking questions about where I got this
gunshot wound and on top of that why has the bullet already been removed and
the wound packed.” Says Stacy, Stella looking in the bag, pulling out the
bloody bullet wrapped in gauze
“Jesus Christ, Stacy. You actually
bought all this shit and removed the bullet yourself? You are fucking crazy,
but that’s actually impressive.” Says Stella, in disbelief
“Thanks. It’s a nice little souvenir,
right? I’ve talked it over with the girls and decided I’ve learned my lesson,
no more getting shot.” Says Stacy
“Because that was clearly in the plan
from the beginning, wasn’t it? You are going to die if you keep doing this.”
Pleads Stella, concernedly
“Well, I’m going to die if I don’t, and
seeing how I would be dead in a few hours if I didn’t do it, I would say I made
the right choice. I am in a bit of pain right now as you might imagine, so if
we could just be grateful that I’m alive and whatnot, that would be great.”
Says Stacy
“I want you to stay alive, not just be
alive for a few more days before you set out to get yourself killed again.”
Says Stella, angrily
“I set out and do these things to
ensure I don’t get myself killed.
Besides, I’m undefeated when it comes to not getting myself killed, I’ll have
you know.” Says Stacy
“God damn it Stacy, you are so fucking
stupid. You almost die and you just brush it off like you’re some kind of
immortal god. I can’t stand this shit.” Says Stella, tearing up
“Swimming is the same thing as almost
drowning, but most people don’t drown when they go swimming for some odd
reason. Let’s just treat it like that, a nice splash around the pool. I want to
sleep, so if somebody could take this stupid dress off of me that would be
great.” Says Stacy
“You’re the nurse Ophelia.” Says Jenna
“Fine. How do you want me to do it?”
asks Ophelia
“I’m going to lay on my back. Pull my
arm upwards and then, just pull the dress off of me. Thanks.” Says Stacy,
Ophelia gently moves Stacy’s arm causing her to groan, then takes the dress off
“Be a dear and hang it up for me.” Says
Stacy who stands up, takes the money out of her bra and puts it on her desk,
she unfastens the bra and takes a dirty school shirt off of the ground and
slides the left sleeve over her crippled arm before fishing her right arm
through the other sleeve. “I’m going to sleep. Good night.” Says Stacy
“You’re going to sleep like that, not
even a nightgown or something?” asks Stella
“Well if the shirt doesn’t open in the
front I can’t really put it on without causing excruciating pain in my arm. I’m
not some sick masochist. Says Stacy
“I am so grateful that you are alive
right now. Please don’t scare me like that again.” Says Stella, able to come to
terms with only as much as the fact that Stacy is alive
“You know I have to. I am sorry. Just
try to put faith in it, people send their kids off to war all the time, it’s
kind of like that. There’s a chance I might die, but I might also be
victorious. I like to have faith in the latter. You girls can get some bedding out
of the linen closet. I’m done.” Says Stacy as she collapses onto her bed
“Good night, Stacy. I’m also glad you
are alive.” Says Ophelia
“Hopefully my magic won’t wear off
completely by tomorrow; you might be out of luck though. I can’t tend to you
night and day until you get better.” Says Jenna
“I’ll take my licks, I deserve it after
all. I was the one who had misplaced faith in mankind.” Says Stacy
“That’s actually a pretty ironic reason
for you to be shot, who would have guessed you had any faith in mankind?” says
Jenna
“It was a gambit; if it had worked I
could have just walked away. Sadly, it didn’t.” says Stacy
“No more gamibts, please. It’s not
worth the risk.” Says Stella
“I actually agree with you for once.”
Says Stacy
“Good. I’m also going to sleep. I want
to cry, but it’s tears of joy since you girls all came home. I couldn’t live
without you.” Says Stella, tearing up
“We love you too Stella.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure Stacy wouldn’t be alive
without you, so consider the feeling mutual between all of us. I’m sorry we
have to put you through these terrible stresses, Stella, but we have no
choice.” Says Jenna
“I know. I am scared and I feel crazy,
but if it comes from you I can trust it. I hate this, but I have no choice but
to accept it.” Says Stella, rattled
“That’s something we all must learn to
do. I’m going to sleep; it was exhausting watching Stacy in the first person,
even though I didn’t do anything, it was an emotional rollercoaster.” Says
Jenna
“I bet. You want me to get some bedding
for you?” asks Stella
“I’ll be fine; we know where to find
it. Thanks though.” Says Jenna
“Thanks for looking out for Stacy; I’m
pretty sure she would be dead if it wasn’t for you two.” Says Stella
“We didn’t do much, but I think we
helped a little bit.” Says Ophelia
“Good. That little bit might just be
enough to keep her amongst the ranks of the living.” Says Stella
“Let’s hope so. It would haunt me
forever if I had to watch Stacy die because I couldn’t do enough to save her.”
Says Jenna
“I don’t want to think about that. Just
keep on being undefeated in that scenario, ok?” says Stella
“I’m sure we will. Stacy is blessed by God
after all, with her magic of being able to protect others from the sinners and
the wicked.” Says Ophelia
“That’s comforting. I want to believe
that. I’m willing to take any form of comfort at this point.” Says Stella
“You are wise indeed. Let’s get ready
for bed. I’m just going to let Stacy sleep though.” says Jenna
“Ok.” Says Ophelia, the girls get
sleeping mats and bedding, they brush their teeth, dress for sleep, and turn
the lights out while exchanging sleepy time blessings.
The sun smiles its euphorically
sadistic smile as it peeks over the horizon eager to breath in the flavorful
aromas of another night of senseless violence in the city. Its delightful
warmth is lovingly lathered over the sleeping girls as a reminder of their
progenitor’s platonic love of chaos.
Stella sits up and sees the money
sitting on the desk along with the bullet wrapped in bloodstained gauze, the
horrors of the truth of the previous night finally able to overpower her
crippling delirium of woe and loneliness.
“Stacy, wake up!” says Stella
“Fuck me. What is it?” Says Stacy softly in exhausted pain
“Why didn’t you hide
the bullet and the money! I’m sure the cops are looking for you right now! This
looks really bad. Please at least try to look innocent.” Says Stella
“The cops aren’t looking for me.” Says
Stacy, trying to go back to sleep
“I’m pretty sure since you killed some
people last night; they are definitely looking for you.” Says Stella
“They’re not even looking for the
impoverished unemployed 16 to 20 year old African American male they suspect of
the crimes. Why would they be looking for me?” says Stacy
“Stacy, you realize that girl saw you
pretty clearly. I’m sure she told the police about you.” Says Jenna
“She ran away before the police got
there. I didn’t put her in a coma, Jesus. Even if the cops knew who she was,
she wouldn’t talk to them. She hates the cops more than she hates me.” Says
Stacy
“How do you know that?” asks Jenna
“It’s common sense, the cops would have
ended her life or put her in prison, I gave her a new lease on life. You
realize I did all that so I could get that through to her, right?” asks Stacy
“That kind of makes sense.” Says Jenna
“What exactly did you do?” asks Stella
“I just taught some people a lesson.
Don’t worry about it.” Says Stacy
“How did you teach somebody a lesson with
a gunfight?” asks Stella
“There wasn’t a gunfight. I pacified
two rowdy fools and tried to talk sense into a girl. I learned my lesson
because I was foolish enough to think that people would be grateful to be
alive. Clearly that wasn’t the case. Let me sleep, damn it. I don’t want to
deal with this shit.” Says Stacy, tired, upset, and annoyed
“We have to go to church in a few hours;
you should probably wake up so you don’t sleep in too late.” Says Ophelia
“We? You two are the one who goes to
church.” Says Stacy
“I think you really should go with us,
it would really help you. I kind of told my dad I would try to get you two to
come with me. It’s important to go to church, especially after something like
last night.” Says Ophelia
“I agree with Ophelia, you definitely
need church Stacy.” Says Jenna
“What is the point in going to church?”
asks Stacy
“It is so you get in touch with God.
You are the one who says you are like an angel, you should want to go to
church.” Says Ophelia
“I’m pretty sure a big part is being forgiven
for your sins, too.” Says Jenna
“Is this really that important? Can’t I
get out for being sick or something?” asks Stacy
“You’re not sick, you’re just hurt. You
can’t spread your pain like its germs or something. Anyways, it really would
mean a lot to me. I want you to really be good and blessed by God, not just
believe those things.” Says Ophelia
“Does church really do that?” asks
Stacy
“Of course it does.” Says Ophelia
“If you are the faithful servant of god
you claim to be, you would look forward to church all week.” Says Jenna
“The only thing tempting me to do this
is the thematic ambiance. I really like that story and I don’t want you to ruin
it for me.” Says Stacy
“Good. Then go to church.” Says Jenna
“It might not be fun, but I’m sure you
will feel better.” Says Ophelia
“I also think you need to go to church,
Stacy.” Says Stella
“You’re just going to excuse yourself?”
asks Stacy
“I’ll go if you do.” Says Stella
“But you wouldn’t go if I don’t, so
what’s the point.” Says Stacy
“I actually want to after all of this,
considering how I am implicated in your hellraising, but I can’t trust you to
be by yourself right now.” Says Stella
“Why do you think that god is some sky
ghost that just drinks the guilt right out of your body? Going to church
doesn’t change what you have done.” Says Stacy
“Of course it doesn’t, you go to church
in order to atone by admitting guilt and reflecting on what you could do
better.” Says Jenna
“You really could do a lot of things
better.” Says Ophelia
“Fine. No promises I don’t fall asleep
though.” Says Stacy
“I’ll slap your arm if you do. You need
god, Stacy.” Says Jenna
“I could easily die if god doesn’t have
my back, so I guess I’ll be singing for a miracle today.” Says Stacy
“Good. We don’t have to leave for a
while, so you can sleep some more if you want.” Says Ophelia
“Thank you.” Says Stacy, exhausted from
the argument
“You girls want some breakfast? I can
cook some pancakes or something.” Says Stella
“That sounds great.” Says Ophelia
“Wake me up when they’re ready. I’m not
missing pancakes.” Says Stacy
“I’ll come fetch you.” Says Stella
“Thanks.” Says Stacy as the three walk
out of the room.
Stella begins to fix breakfast and the
girls sit at the kitchen table. Dale continues to imperviously guard his
cushioned castle from any who seek to usurp his kingship, his rallying cry an
incendiary force within the hearts of his dreamwoven army.
“Stella, I am really sorry about everything.
I don’t think I can say that enough. We all kind of lost control of our lives
and we don’t really know what to do.” Says Jenna
“I understand. I’m sad that I could
never help my sister before this, and now I can’t really do anything to relieve
you of your misery. I feel powerless, but I am trying to accept it.” Says
Stella
“We’re all powerless. I’m glad Stacy
kind of knows what she has to do to stay alive. It is so crazy that this damn
dog is going to kill us if we don’t do what he wants.” Says Jenna
“You think that’s true?” asks Stella
“I don’t want to, but I’m not willing
to risk my life to put it to the test. If Stacy thinks it’s true I’ve got no
choice but to trust her, she was given the knack for knowing things like that.”
Says Jenna
“I don’t know why our rings are white;
we didn’t do anything last night.” Says Ophelia
“I guess helping Stacy was considered
doing enough good on our parts. It is sickening that things like that are what
the dog considers to be good.” Says Jenna
“He did say we had to do good and fight
evil, I don’t want to fight anybody but I guess Stacy thinks she doesn’t have a
choice.” Says Ophelia
“Stacy told me about the possible
futures she foresaw; all of the peaceful ones were grim, especially for her.
She said we might be able to stay alive doing nice things, but she likely
wouldn’t survive very long.” Says Jenna
“That’s so sad. I just wanted to do
nice things but now Stacy has to go out and punish bad people or she will die.”
Says Ophelia
“You are ok with her doing that sort of
thing? I wouldn’t have any of it.” Says Stella, perplexed
“We kind of got dropped into the fire
pretty fast last week. I’m surprised Stacy didn’t lose her mind completely
after that.” Says Jenna
“I don’t want to know what actually
happened to her that day. I guess it helps she has no mind to lose.” Says
Stella
“She was saying she kind of loses
control when bad things happen and something else takes over her body. It
sounded kind of scary but it seems to get her out of trouble.” Says Ophelia
“I like to think that. I really don’t
want to know if it is some otherworldly force controlling her or if Stacy just
has some serious issues.” Says Jenna
“She does have some serious issues
thought.” Says Stella
“Not like normal Stacy issues, like
real issues.” Says Jenna
“It has to be some other spirit, how
could she know how to fight so well and shoot a gun like that.” Says Ophelia
“What do you mean when you say real
issues? I’m kind of concerned.” Says Stella
“You don’t want to know. It is
upsetting to say the least.” Says Jenna
“I think I can handle it, you two seem
to be ok and you’ve seen it firsthand.” Says Stella
“I will require a lot of therapy if
this is ever over. I’ll just leave it at that.” Says Jenna
“I think she can be hotheaded when it
happens, but I don’t feel bad for the people. She wouldn’t do those things if
she didn’t have a good reason.” Says Ophelia
“Now I’m really curious. I know she is
sick but I kind of want to know how sick.” Says Stella
“You will certainly be sick after
hearing this, you sure you don’t want to eat breakfast first?” says Jenna
“It is a weird collage of ambivalence,
but I kind of want to know more than I don’t.” says Stella
“Well you know, she killed some people.
She also just hurts some of them but doesn’t kill them.” Says Ophelia
“That doesn’t sound that bad; I would
rather be hurt that dead.” Says Stella
“I’m not sure about that. On top of the
three dead people, she lobotomized one man in a restaurant and deafened a girl
with a handgun before shooting her in the ears. Hotheaded was a euphemism to be
honest.” Says Jenna
“I think she’s being a good person, it
is way better not to kill people.” Says Ophelia
“That is… something. It seems like
something Stacy would do, she likes to see herself as some kind of avenging
angel or something.” Says Stella
“She tells me that and I still don’t
want to think it is really her making those decisions.” Says Jenna
“I figured she would just tell you that
nice guys finish last, and I guess in her case that means being eaten by some
magical dog or something.” Says Stella
“If you don’t kill them, you give them
a chance to learn their lesson. It’s just like how god forgives people and
gives them a second chance.” Says Ophelia
“I’m going with that… Stacy the godly.”
Says Jenna
“I’m sure she likes to think of herself
that way.” Says Stella, serving up some pancakes
“I think she’s a good person.” Says
Ophelia
“We don’t really have a choice; she’s
kind of the brains of our group. I know I would be at my wits end if I had to
search for random people to go help out of the blue.” Says Jenna
“It is so weird, in all of the books
I’ve read about this, there is always some major problem that is super obvious
that the girls have to go deal with. In real life there’s never anything like
that.” Says Ophelia
“I’m glad that’s the case. We seemed to
have a hard time just dealing with fairly small things compared to some giant
monster terrorizing the city.” Says Jenna
“I’m pretty sure if you ask Stacy, she
will tell you society is the major problem that is super obvious that she has
to deal with.” Says Stella, she walks up to the stairs “Stacy, come get some
breakfast!” She shouts
Stacy comes down the stairs with some
shorts on, her shirt sloppily buttoned twice
“You look like a mess.” Says Stella
“I am a mess.” Says Stacy
“That was pretty quick though.” Says
Stella
“Pancakes are a much higher priority
than sleep.” Says Stacy
“Even in your condition?” asks Stella
“This just makes pancakes an even
higher priority.” Says Stacy, sitting down at the table
“Jenna, lather some magic on me,
please. My arm is throbbing like a young girl’s heart.” Says Stacy
“I’ll try.” Says Jenna, putting her
hand on Stacy’s arm
“No. Damn it. That just made it worse.”
Says Stacy
“I’m not transformed so I guess I can’t
do anything.” Says Jenna
“You don’t want to transform for dear
old Stacy, do you?” asks Stacy
“Your dad is in the next room, no, and
you also deserve it for having such a crazy plan. Enjoy your pain.” Says Jenna
“Thank you, mistress.” Says Stacy,
sarcastically
“Eat up. You’ll need your energy if you
want your songs to get all the way to heaven.” Says Stella, serving her sister
some pancakes and a glass of milk
“Thank you kindly. Let’s hope god has
keen ears, I’m not much for singing.” Says Stacy
“I don’t even know how to read the
music, so I sing pretty quiet.” Says Ophelia
“I think we’re all in that boat. I’ll
just enjoy the show and hope god shoots that t-shirt cannon filled with
salvation in my direction.” Says Stacy
“That’s how you think salvation works?”
asks Stella
“I think the general consensus is that
everybody gets a t-shirt, but that seems a bit too perfect for me.” Says Stacy
“If you are talking about salvation, God
gives it to anybody who is faithful. So it shouldn’t be hard for you to find
it.” Says Ophelia
“I will be a wellspring of faith if
that’s all it takes.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure you have to obey god’s
words and be an upstanding person.” Says Jenna
“Don’t worry, he will forgive you if
you mess up sometimes, just try your best.” Says Ophelia
“I think I can handle that. Here’s to
faith, forgiveness and the word of god!” Says Stacy, raising her glass
“Here’s to doing your best and
tolerating imperfection.” Says Stella, raising her glass
“I like that. That’s about all we can
do at this point.” Says Jenna, also raising her glass
“I think we’re supposed to drink wine,
but we’re not old enough, so we’ll just make do with what we have.” Says
Ophelia, raising the final glass, clinking the toast
“Here’s to here’s!” shouts Dale, raising
his glass from the couch
“Oh, I didn’t know your awake, Dad. You
want some pancakes?” Says Stella
“A here’s here’s is always enough to
wake me up. I’d love some cakes, no syrup though; I’m not trying to get all
sticky.” Says Dale
“The syrup really helps to soften them;
I find them kind of hard to swallow without it.” Says Stella, walking the tiny
sea of vinyl and carpet into the joined living room
“I’ve got plenty to wash it down with.
Don’t worry about me.” Says Stella
“Do you want some water?” asks Stella
“That would be great. I’ve got to
rehydrate every now and again.” Says Dale
“I’m glad you’re thinking about your
health.” Says Stella
“I’m always thinking about my health.
Salud, so they say.” Says Dale, raising his drink
“I’ll get you that water.” Says Stella
“Thanks love.” Says Dale, Stella
quickly returns with a glass of water
“All four of us are going to church
with Ophelia today, so don’t worry if you can’t find us.” Says Stella
“Go find god for me, bring home some
miracles if you can.” Says Dale
“I’ll try my best.” Says Stella
“I’ll be waiting, but not hopeful.”
Says Dale
“Maybe I can surprise you.” Says Stella
“Hell, you girls are all the miracles I
need. I can’t ask for more than that.” Says Dale
“Thanks dad. Enjoy the pancakes.” Says
Stella
“Will do.” Says Dale, beginning to eat
slowly as Stella returns to the table.
“Wow, I didn’t think you would be able
to eat all of that so fast, Stacy, considering you were shorthanded and
everything.” Says Stella
“There’s no such thing as shorthanded
when it comes to eating. One hand is plenty, and even people without hands
still manage to eat somehow.” Says Stacy
“Well, at least we don’t have to worry
about you dying like that.” Says Jenna
“Let’s just consider the rest of it
eating and we don’t have to worry about any of it.” Says Stacy
“Some things are easier than others,
you know.” Says Jenna
“Man has hunted for sustenance for
millions of years; the only difference is that I don’t eat my prey.” Says Stacy
“You seem to be pretty callous towards
your transgressions.” Says Jenna
“Survival of the fittest.” Says Stacy,
smugly
“I think it’s kind of appropriate given
that she doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter.” Says Stella
“Let’s hope church can make everything
right.” Says Ophelia
“Right as rain, no doubt.” Says Stacy
“I’ll settle for that. As much as rain
may cause problems sometimes, life depends on it and it’s a natural occurrence.
We wouldn’t be alive without those sad little raindrops.” Says Jenna
“If hell freezes over, who knows, maybe
I’ll turn into snow.” Says Stacy
“You still intend on causing that to
happen, don’t you?” says Stella
“Even children dying of cancer dream
about becoming famous athletes or firefighters, I’m not giving up on my
dreams.” Says Stacy
“That’s the spirit. You can’t let your
double life prevent you from living the normal one you want to live.” Says Ophelia
“Somehow I feel that her double life is
the more normal one out of the two.” Says Stella
“Only in Bay City.” Says Stacy
“That’s where we are, sadly.” Says
Stella
“Then it looks like I’ll fit right in.”
says Stacy
“That’s not really a good thing.” Says
Jenna
“It is when I’m riding the god damn
plot horse.” Says Stacy
“Yee-haw.” Says Jenna
“Yee-haw.” Says Stacy
“I’ll clean the dishes. Do you girls
want to wash before church? We didn’t get a chance to last night.” Says Stella
“No.” says Stacy
“I would like to.” Says Jenna
“Me as well.” Says Ophelia
“Feel free. I’ll bathe third. You girls
can head up.” Says Stella, the two leave the table and head upstairs
“I’ll bathe myself in dreams.” Says
Stacy
“Just don’t drown in them.” Says Stella
“Tantalus has yet to drown; I wouldn’t
be too worried about myself.” Says Stacy
“Be so kind as to return to the shore
when you wake up, at least.” Says Stella
“The waves of reality crush my body as
they toss me onto the beach of wakefulness every morning. If there is a riptide
I have yet to find it.” Says Stacy
“Good. At least the waves look out for
your best interests.” Says Stella
“I have no interest in this earthen
hell, only scorn for it.” Says Stacy
“You own interests tend to be quite far
off from your best interests, if you haven’t figured that out.” Says Stella
“I’m glad your opinionated superlativity
can somehow manage to turn its nose up at the clouds when its head is in the
sand.” Says Stacy
“At least my superlativity has
something to stand on.” Says Stella
“Who needs to stand when you can fly?”
asks Stacy
“Good luck with flying, I’ve yet to
meet a person capable of doing so.” Says Stella
“A man wed with a machine is certainly
capable, and I do not seek to revolutionize the industrial world with
Paleolithic technology.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope you actually are the Red
Baron and not one of the countless fools who flew directly into flak and met
his maker without even laying a scratch on the enemy.” Says Stella
“I have my wits about me. There’s no
need to hope for outcomes that are certain.” Says Stacy
“You seem to tolerate a high degree of
uncertainty in your allegedly pure certainty.” Says Stella
“Mistakes can corrupt any perfect procedure;
I am intent on making as few as possible.” Says Stacy
“A man who can do nothing but make
mistakes has made as few mistakes as possible by the time he inevitably dies;
don’t think that such a strategy will lead you to any success.” Says Stella
“I am a fair bit more competent than
that. Have faith.” Says Stacy
“Fools have faith in things that have
zero chance of happening, if you are so confident in such things, considering
your logic, I don’t see why you’re not head over heels for homeopathy.” Says
Stella
“I don’t rely on coincidence to prove
my efficaciousness. Even you should understand that I base my sentiments
largely upon science.” Says Stacy
“There is a difference between science
and the whims of a 14 year old girl.” Says Stella
“They are principles, not whims. It is
still an affront to rational logic to assail my ideology.” Says Stacy
“Even logic has the capacity to fail
when it is applied to irrational creatures such as humans.” Says Stella
“Regardless, it has a higher success
rate than the entirely illogical policies in place at the moment.” Says Stacy
“What part of being one of the
strongest and most successful countries on the planet qualifies as entirely
illogical?” asks Stella
“You think that the most logical
individual in an anarchist society is the man who is bigger and stronger than
everyone and therefore can rob, pillage, and plunder with heavy handed
impunity? Such a strategy requires little if any logic; even a bear could
deduce such a strategy.” Says Stacy
“Bears have millions of years of
success under their belt, your ideology has none.” Says Stella
“That’s not true; it draws upon the
greatest authoritarians of all time and simply seeks to improve upon past
successes while addressing missteps and failures.” Says Stacy
“Why do you think you are capable of applying
Moore’s law to despotism?” Says Stella
“In theory it wouldn’t be hard to
exponentially increase the amount of despotism every year, until you reach the
point where it becomes physically impossible. It would be benevolent despotism
anyways, the more I increase the despotism, the greater the benefit to society.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t understand how you can even
fit such big dreams into that head of yours.” Says Stella
“Maybe I am a bit abstemious when it
comes to other things people might store in their brain.” Says Stacy
“Clearly. I’m going upstairs. I figured
you would be in no shape to talk, but clearly not.” Says Stella
“Talking is a reflex, and hearing words
like the electric shock that causes it to occur. It doesn’t require thought and
my body will unquestioningly spend the energy required to see to it that the
reflex occurs.” Says Stacy
“I can’t say that is an evolutionary
advantage in the slightest.” Says Stella
“Let nature lay me in my grave if my
mutation makes me unfit for living. She seems to be indifferent to my heartbeat
up to this point.” Says Stacy
“Do realize that you’re not that far
from the coast if and when that allegorical tsunami hits, but I can’t say for
certain if it will sweep you out to sea.” Says Stella
“It’s a gambit, but I’m sure I’ll be
able to connive a way to stay alive.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope so.” Says Stella
“You seem to have the same reflex.”
Says Stacy
“It is a terrible mutation to always
seek to have the last word. I’ll let you have it. I’m going upstairs.” Says
Stella, walking away
“I’m coming too, I’m not going to sit
here alone.” Says Stacy, following her sister upstairs
They enter the room; Ophelia sitting on
Stella’s bed looking out the window, Stella sits beside her. Stacy crawls one
handed into her bed and sits with her back against the wall and sighs with the
aches and pains of being alive.
“You look like you’re lost in thought
Ophie, what’s on your mind?” asks Stacy
“Well, I guess I am lost. I am always
told you’re supposed to reflect on things you did but if I try to think about
last night my mind just runs away from the thoughts.” Says Ophelia
“I’m glad you didn’t run away last
night, you saved my ass more than once.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think I really did anything,
did I?” asks Ophelia
“I’m pretty sure you were the one who
convinced that shopkeeper to let us go.” Says Stacy
“I thought you weren’t scared of people
calling the police in that neighborhood.” Says Ophelia
“I’m pretty sure that guy is a generous
benefactor of the police. He wouldn’t be in business if he didn’t. You were
also a damn good nurse, by the way.” says Stacy
“Thanks. My job was kind of easy. Jenna
had to look at you the whole time; I was kind of closing my eyes and looking
away. It was so scary; I don’t know how you were so calm.” Says Ophelia
“Adrenaline. It’s fight or flight, and
I knew for damn sure I couldn’t run away from a bullet in my arm.” Says Stacy
“Maybe you should have run away before
you got the bullet in your arm.” Says Stella
“In my line of duty desertion
guarantees that you die, this way at least I’ve got a fighting chance.” Says Stacy
“You are quite small and basically
nothing but skin and bones, what sort of chance do you think you have of
winning a fight?” asks Stella
“Don’t they always say it’s not the
size of the dog in the fight, but the size of the fight in the dog?” asks Stacy
“I’m just going to presume that every
dog out there that you are going to fight with has a comparable level of fight
in them as yourself, at that point the decisive factor is explicitly the size
of the dog in the fight.” Says Stella
“I’d say my magical curse or whatever
gives me a leg up on most people.” Says Stacy
“What sort of leg up could you possibly
have? You have a gun; they have a gun, that’s the end of the story. There is no
leg up.” Says Stella
“I found two medullas with two bullets,
the only reason I even got shot was because I basically let the girl do it. I’d
say my instinct performs at a much higher level than that of the common
criminal.” Says Stacy
“How did you even learn to shoot a gun
like that? It was kind of scary how you didn’t think for a second and the guy
was already on the ground.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know. I can just feel it. The
right spot in the brain attracts my gun like a compass needle to magnetic
north. I seem to know exactly where the bullet will go and that is the position
my hands are drawn to. To be honest I didn’t expect it to work like that, but
I’m glad it did. Hell, it even scares me
if I think about it, thankfully I don’t though.” says Stacy
“You don’t think about what you’re
doing when you just run in there with a gun?” asks Stella
“It’s rare that I think about anything
I do, but in that kind of situation it is like my body was on autopilot.” Says
Stacy
“It saved that girls life, so it must
be a good thing.” Says Ophelia
“I just hope I don’t lose my free will
entirely. It’s kind of scary, it feels like a dream when you see the things you
are doing but don’t have a second thought about any of it, even it is super
weird you never once question your surroundings or your actions.” Says Stacy
“I’ve been told that you can’t die in
your dreams, so maybe it works like that.” Says Ophelia
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how this
works at all.” Says Stella, perplexed by the ignorance
“Sadly, I woke up and still had the
flesh wound, but I know I’ll do everything I can not to die, so it’s pretty
close. Hell, if I really got into a pickle I feel like that instinct would take
over my body for days until I’m out of harm’s way. I’m not complaining, if I
had to do that sort of thing by my own devices I’m pretty sure we’d be dead
right now.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know how you are so calm about
all of this, you murdered some people last night and it doesn’t bother you in
the slightest. In the back of my mind there is a cat with claws of fear just
scratching the life out of my brain and you can just sit back and laugh like
you’re some kind of action hero who can nonchalantly kill people and laugh off
being shot.” Says Stella
“The first time shook me, the second
time it was like riding a bike. I was dwelling on it all week and just came to
terms with the fact that I have to do these things to survive. I’ll gladly kill
a gaggle of thugs if it means saving my own life.” Says Stacy
“That is sickening. You can just gladly
end people’s lives like that. You realize these are people just like yourself.”
Says Stella
“They are miscreants and I am basically
the incarnation of god’s vengeance at this point. You can’t compare the two of
us. They gladly risk their lives every day by being criminals, if I hadn’t have
killed them, they could easily be dead in a few weeks’ time because some other
thug wanted their 8 dollars or their shoes that they stole off of the last
person they killed.” Says Stacy
“You’re so high and mighty thinking
you’re a saint. It’s insane.” Says Stella
“She is like a saint though. She has god’s
knowledge of how to fight evil, you can’t be mad at her for wanting to do good
things. I’m just as scared as you are, but I can’t be mad at her. If anything
it is her responsibility to do these things.” Says Ophelia
“You told me that you got this magic
from a dog, not some angel. To drum yourself up like that is ridiculous.” Says
Stella
“Mr. Dog has to be God’s dog or
something to be that good and magical.” Says Ophelia
“Whether or not he has anything to do
with the god of Abraham, he is undoubtedly a god. Nothing else could possibly
have that sort of power. His story of how his family was some force of karmatic
justice back when a wolf could kill a man was almost touching. I feel like I’m
almost his kin at this point, taking up the family profession like that.” Says
Stacy
“There’s only one God, so if he’s a God
he has to be the normal God.” Says Ophelia
“Abrahamic god simply says that there
are no gods before him, he even acknowledges the existence of other gods like
Moloch in the bible. God just says that they are inferior gods, and he is the
most powerful of them, the one true god so they say.” Says Stacy
“Well, I’m pretty sure there is only
one God nowadays, so Mr. Dog has to be like an angel or something.” Says Stella
“That’s possible. It would be ironic
that we kind of sold our soul to an angel instead of the devil.” Says Stacy
“We didn’t sell our souls; we just said
we would help.” Says Ophelia
“Maybe he is the angel that opposes
sloth, so if we become irreverent and stop doing good and fighting evil, we
die. Sloth is a deadly sin, after all.” Says Stacy
“That makes sense; we should learn that
angel’s name and see if we can pray to him to help us.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know if people would know the
name of an angel like that.” Says Stella
“Mr. Dog is all we have to work with
right now.” Says Ophelia
“Mr. Wolf Dog, it’s quite the name. It
makes sense that he wouldn’t call himself a human or pet name seeing how he
loathes humanity for the most part.” Says Stacy
“If he didn’t like humans, why would he
wants us to help them?” asks Ophelia
“Last time I checked, he didn’t really
want us to help them. He just wanted to eat us. His gambit was hoping that we
wouldn’t fulfil our end of the bargain.” Says Stacy
“You think he doesn’t care at all?”
asks Ophelia
“It’s been centuries if not millennia
since a wolf could kill a human, I’m sure that’s plenty of time for him to come
to terms with that and give up on his creed. It seemed like he just wanted to
enjoy himself and watch the world burn at this point.” Says Stacy
“I want to think he is loving, like God.
He was pretty nice.” Says Ophelia
“Godlike, sure, but even god had no
interest in loving places like Sodom and Gomorrah.” Says Stacy
“I can’t help but hear this echo in my
head like I’m sitting in a room with the most insane people on the planet. I
don’t know what to say. It is nerve-wracking.” Says Stella
“You’ve just got to accept the painful
facts of life. I know it’s hard, but it’s not like we try to get Dale to stop
drinking. Just think of this as our sick addiction that we must satiate or else
we die.” Says Stacy
“What dad does makes sense, it is well documented,
and scientific. Your predicament, however, I cannot come to terms with in the
slightest, it just feels like pure insanity being rubbed all over my body.”
Says Stella
“I’m sure it is technically insanity,
but it’s also the truth, sadly. Denial is the first stage of grief, so just try
to be aware of that.” Says Stacy
“What stage of grief are you on?” says
Stella
“Acceptance.” Says Stacy
“It was hard but I also realize I can’t
do anything about it at this point.” Says Ophelia
“Why does my mind keep telling me I
have to do everything I can to help you girls. I feel like you are really sick
and I need to help you with this problem as much as I can. I feel that if I
don’t somehow cure this illness you are all going to die and it tears me up on
the inside.” Says Stella
“It’s like terminal cancer, there’s
nothing anyone can do but accept it. The most you can do is just keep cooking.
I’m sure that will keep us all in high spirits.” Says Stacy
“I hope it’s not as bad as cancer, I
don’t feel sick or anything, just kind of scared. I think it’s a great idea to
just try to help Stacy in normal ways. We are the only ones expected to deal
with our own situation, I don’t think anyone else is even able to do so
really.” Says Ophelia
Jenna returns, “You’re turn Ophelia.”
She says, sitting down on Stacy’s bed
“I’ll try to be quick so the water
doesn’t get cold for you Stella.” Says Ophelia, leaving the room
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I could
use a cold bath at this point.” Says Stella
“I can’t fathom the appeal of a cold
bath.” Says Stacy
“I think it is where you breathe
heavily and try to come to terms with the fact that the world you once knew is
falling to pieces before your eyes.” Says Stella
“It’s still there; don’t worry; even if
we have to go do some good deeds every now and again.” Says Stacy
“For some reason I am not so optimistic
that you are going to continue to be successful.” Says Stella
“Healthy people don’t pain themselves
contemplating how they are going to die every second of their life, most of
them ignore it or accept it as inevitable and neglect to contemplate it at all
until they are on their deathbed. I think that’s a reasonable strategy.” Says Jenna
“They think about it every second that
they are on their deathbed, and that is what it feels like to me right now. How
can you accept this part of your life and go back to being normal the next
day?” asks Stella
“It’s not really a part of my life, so
I don’t think about it much at all.” Says Jenna
“What? You don’t consider the whole
costumed crusader thing to be a part of your life right now?” asks Stella
“When I think about that girl in the
silly costume, I remind myself that I am not that girl and instead remember who
I am, who Jenna is.” Says Jenna
“You’re not that girl? Even after you
do crazy things with Stacy? You just ignore the fact you went out and saw your
friend get shot last night?” asks Stella
“I just fall back on words of wisdom
spoken by a man who often found himself in a very similar situation: ‘It wasn’t
me,’” Says Jenna
“You have seen Stacy kill people and helped
her get a bullet out of her arm somehow, that wasn’t you?” asks Stella
“It wasn’t me.” Says Jenna
“That’s the mentality you need to
succeed in this line of work. If anyone asks me, I know for damn sure it wasn’t
me.” Says Stacy
“You just deny it?” asks Stella
“I just kind of separate the costume
and my normal self into two distinct people. I still have to live my normal
life; I’m not going to worry about the witch unless somebody’s life depends on
it.” Says Jenna
“It is you. If the witch dies, you die.
If Stacy gets herself killed it doesn’t matter if she has that silly dress on,
you die forever.” Says Stella
“I just let the witch make sure that
the witch doesn’t die. I do my best to make sure that I don’t die in ways that a
normal person like myself could die. We’ve each got our own responsibilities,
and we mutually coexist without getting in each other’s way. ” Says Jenna
“I’m the same way, I don’t identify
with that wild girl in the dress, I’m still normal old me, but when I’ve got to
take care of business that’s when that mask gets put on.” Says Stacy
“You can just separate your two lives
that easily?” asks Stella
“Ophelia told us on the first day that
it was important to keep our two identities separate, so I’ve taken that to
heart.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know how you can risk your
lives like this and come back and act normally. I’m not even doing it and my
mind is racing all over the place with hypotheticals about who might or might
not come home or if I will ever see you three again.” Says Stella
“In my mind I’m already dead, but when
I do these things I get to come back to life and live for a little bit longer.
That’s how I see it, with the perspective that I’m being given life instead of
having mine taken.” Says Stacy
“You’re not dead. You don’t seem to
understand death. You are alive, but you act as if you have no life to lose.”
Says Stella
“We are dead, one way or the other, in
the end. Through violence or pacifism, both roads lead to death.” Says Jenna
“We either die in the line of fire or
we die for desertion. We got drafted, we don’t have a choice. The only way to
stay alive at this point is to keep fighting.” Says Stacy
“You just grin and bear it? You don’t
value your life or have fears?” asks Stella
“I’ve got no choice but to grin and
bear it. I do value my life, and I figure this might actually give my life some
value instead of just being all talk 100% of the time. I guess I’m still afraid
of dogs, but that’s about it that I can think of.” Says Stacy
“You got shot and you aren’t scared of
guns?” asks Stella
“I can’t be scared of guns, and it
wasn’t the gun that did anything to me. It was my own shortsightedness and
foolish trust in mankind. I would be scared of those things, but I believe I
have addressed those fears properly and no longer need to fear them.” Says
Stacy
“How are you not afraid of dying? Every
animal is afraid of dying, are you that crazy?” asks Stella
“I’m ready to die, honestly. If I die,
that just means me doing my best wasn’t good enough, and per my own principles
that deems me unworthy of life and worthy of nothing but death, it is survival
of the fittest, is it not?” asks Stacy
“I’m not ready for you to die, Stacy. I
can’t handle that. You are scaring the hell out of me. You know I need you, you
can’t just be ok with dying.” Says Stella, upset
“I can and I am, but for your sake,
I’ll do my best not to.” Says Stacy
“You just said you’re fine with dying because
you’re best isn’t good enough. What about for your own sake? I feel like you
don’t give a damn about how I feel so you’re just going to half-ass not dying
like everything else you don’t care about. God damn it, Stacy.” Says Stella
“I am too selfless to do it for my own
sake, but I care enough about torturing all of humanity for their unnatural
grievances that I should have plenty of inspiration to stay alive. I also care
about you plenty, you know that, so don’t give me that.” Says Stacy
“At least you have something to
motivate you to stay alive. In terms of caring about me, you tend to think a
drop of sense in an ocean of nonsense is a plentifully sensible mixture. You
can’t do any better than plenty?” asks Stella
“My mind is a haunted machine piloted
by a ghost, it’s not much for the caring, its fueled largely by spooky
vengeance and spite. If I don’t care about myself, can you try to understand
how it is hard for me to care about anything else? I love you, I love myself, I
love plenty of things, but it’s hard for me to care. Reality just mercilessly
reminds me of how insignificant my life is, how petty my actions are, and how
trivial anything I could feasibly accomplish is. This is the human aspect on
top of the cold reality of being some amalgamation of probability and
circumstance that has amounted to gooey bag of meaningless space-dust that wields
the sick cancer of cognizance in a cold and largely dead void with an equal
level of absolute insignificance where only the damnable beasts cursed with the
ability to think are able to devise existentialism out of their own egotism and
megalomania. I know what I am, and it is nothing, I simply am not fond of the
delusion of thinking otherwise.” Says Stacy
“Of every delusion you have, you can’t
just be fond of thinking you are meaningful? That your life means something?
Even if you don’t mean a damn thing to yourself, you mean the fucking world to
me, Stacy! Try to realize that and don’t just write of every little thing
including yourself as insignificant bullshit when you’re the most important
thing in somebody else’s life! Why can’t you just realize that you are
important and not just some tiny grain of meaningless dust?” asks Stella,
tearing up
“I’m sorry Stella; I don’t want you to
be upset. I just have a weird mentality when it comes to those kinds of things,
I do understand what you mean and I can certainly respect it, even if I’m not
all that capable of feeling it myself.” Says Stacy
“You are important Stacy. You’re very
important to me too, I can understand your philosophy when it comes to those
kinds of things, but it’s not always appropriate to rattle on about that stuff.
You are very detached for some reason; it would be nice if you could find
something to be attached to. It might just keep you from floating off of this
mortal coil.” Says Jenna
“Attachments have always felt like
shackles to me, binding me and chaining me to something. I was always after
freedom so I just cut away all of the attachments. Maybe it’s not the right
thing to do, but it is liberating.” Says Stacy
“It is so fucking selfish to not give a
fuck about anybody, Stacy. You realize that right?” asks Stella
“I always figured it was fine if I
didn’t give a fuck about myself either, but apparently that’s not the case.”
Says Stacy
“I think you took it beyond selfish and
into the realm of insanity, but I suppose that can’t be helped. Hopefully your
sister has been able to touch your soul in some way that you might be able to
sympathize with her.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know. A large part of me wants
to really see to it that she isn’t upset, I would describe the feeling as
politeness, I feel like I’m being impolite right now, and that bothers me.”
Says Stacy
“That’s a good start, I guess. It’s
something at least.” Says Jenna
“You are so sick, Stacy, it hurts me.”
Says Stella, still teary and angry
“I can’t help it, I can feign and
pretend and whatever, but I feel like people can see through that easily. I’m
actually trying to do it right, so bear with me.” Says Stacy
“Just keep trying; I’m sure you could
get the hang of it if you really open yourself up to it.” Says Jenna
“It’s just such a foreign type of feel
to me, I don’t know what to make of it or what to do with it, like a weird otherworldly
animal that is looking at me and lives inside of me, making me nervous a bit.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t really know what to say to
that, but the least you could do is be aware of people’s emotions and be
sensitive to them, even if you don’t want to feel any yourself.” Says Jenna
“I know, I actually try to do that, but
it’s easy for me to forget when I’m just thinking what I think. You know I get
carried away with that sort of thing, so it’s easy for me to forget about
emotions.” Says Stacy
“Just try your best, and maybe
apologize to Stella.” Says Jenna
“I’m sorry for upsetting you, Stella. I
really am, I know I did something wrong.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you know that you upset me,
but I don’t think you are capable of feeling guilt or remorse, so just let me
know what you’re actually feeling.” Says Stella, still upset
“The best way I can describe it is kind
of silly, but it’s like my body is saying, uh-oh, like a little kid or
something, I know I did something wrong, and that worries me.” Says Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy.” Says Stella
“That’s pretty close. She might not
really feel exactly like she regrets it or something, but at least she feels
something.” Says Jenna
“Fine. I’ll take it. I’m sorry; you
know I get like this sometimes.” Says Stella
“I know. It’s hard for me too. It’s
like I’m driving a car on ice and start spinning out and I don’t really know
what I should be doing to fix it. Scares the hell out of me.” Says Stacy
“I think you did something to get back
on the road a little bit today. I’m proud of you.” Says Jenna
“Thanks. It’s just not my natural instinct
for some reason, like other people.” Says Stacy
“That’s fairly apparent, but I guess
you’ve got to learn it and condition it then.” Says Jenna
“Thank you for having some plausible
way to approach this Jenna. I am at a total loss when it comes to addressing
this sort of issue Stacy has.” Says Stella
“I do what I can, but I don’t expect
any miracles.” Says Jenna
“Even just a little progress would feel
like a miracle.” Says Stella
“Well then we just witnessed a miracle,
didn’t we? I was talking about my feelings and everything.” Says Stacy
“You feeling was, and I quote, ‘uh-oh’.”
Says Stella, glaring at Stacy
“I thought I got some points for that.
It was like a bad kind of uh-oh anyways, I knew I was wrong and I could feel
that.” Says Stacy
“That’s pretty good, to be honest.”
Says Jenna, Ophelia returns
“You’re turn Stella.” Says Ophelia
“I’m going to need it. Thanks.” Says
Stella
“What happened? You look upset.” Says
Ophelia
“Stacy was just acting like Stacy, and
of course I got upset.” Says Stella
“Don’t worry about it. We all learned
something about each other. It was a bonding experience.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. The water’s still kind of
warm, but you can drain some and replace it if it’s too cold.” Says Ophelia
“I might be in there for a while. I’ve
got to solace myself a bit.” Says Stella, getting up
“That’s what baths are good for. Take
your time.” Says Ophelia as Stella exits the room
“What was all of that about?” asks
Ophelia
“Nothing. I said the wrong thing and
Stella got upset. That’s all.” Says Stacy
“You seem to be fairly prone to that.”
Says Jenna
“You realize how prone she is to
becoming upset, we are easily both to blame for that.” Says Stacy
“You can’t blame her for getting upset,
she can’t control it.” Says Jenna
“Yeah, she’s right, Stacy. You actually
can control the things you say; it’s a lot harder to control emotions.” Says
Ophelia
“It’s a lot harder for me to control
things that I say than you think. I just say what’s on the top of my head; it
doesn’t go through some vetting process. I wouldn’t even know where to start
with something like that.” Says Stacy
“You can still control what you say to
some extent. You really think Stella just willingly starts crying like that
because she wants to? It’s not hard to understand.” Says Jenna
“I understand that she doesn’t want to,
but there’s no consensus amongst the feely people that you can kind of control
your feels to some extent?” asks Stacy
“It is much harder, and not everybody
is capable of doing it. Feelings are a lot more powerful than thoughts.” Says
Jenna
“That’s pretty bad to expect her to
adjust her sensitivity to accommodate your insensitivity; you’re the one who’s
not doing it right.” Says Ophelia
“I know I’m not doing it right, but
clearly I don’t have the knack for that sort of thing and I was hoping people
could be sensitive to that fact.” Says Stacy
“Stella honestly tries her best; but
you are merciless when it comes to cold-heartedness. You are merciless in
general when I think about it.” Says Jenna
“I’m pretty sure mercy is rooted in
sympathy, so it’s not hard to understand why.” Says Stacy
“Clearly, but still, if there is anyone
in the world you should be sympathetic towards it is your sister of all people.
I did kind of feel like you somehow sympathized a little bit, but it is
saddening how weak the sympathy was.” Says Jenna
“I am honestly trying. I’m taking your
words to heart and really trying to do this. Somehow the person that is
suffering the most out of all of us because of this nonsense is Stella.” Says
Stacy
“That means you’ve got to do everything
you can to make her feel better. I know you’re not good at it but you’ve really
got to try. Feeling sad and upset hurts a lot, if you don’t know, and that
would be awful if you just didn’t care enough about your sister to let her feel
that way.” Says Ophelia
“You have to realize how fragile Stella
is, especially at this point. You are crazy, but you are more or less defined
by your insanity. Stella on the other hand is not, and if she keeps being
traumatized like this she could easily snap and become a nervous wreck. I would
really hate to see that.” Says Jenna
“I am scared for her sake too; I don’t
want her to break. I just want her to be the regular Stella I’m used to.” Says
Stacy
“That means you have to protect her and
comfort her a lot so she doesn’t feel so miserable because of all of the stress
caused by our double lives. Even if you don’t believe it, just tell her that
everything is going to be ok and make sure she believes you.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t think she will believe me
though.” Says Stacy
“That’s why you have to try to make a
change somehow and give her some grounds to place what little faith she has
left on. If you can just accommodate her natural hopes that everything will be
ok, she will be a lot happier than if you do what you just did which was
basically tell her that you’re happy if you die, you deserve to die, you think
it would be nice if somebody killed you, and you’re going to go out doing crazy
stuff until you die. That sort of stuff really hurts, it even hurt me and I’m
not as sensitive as Stella. Stella is your sister, she really needs you to be
alive and with her. You know this. You can’t just act like nothing matters.”
Says Jenna
“I just kind of said how I felt, but I
guess it was wrong.” Says Stacy
“That sort of stuff is wrong. Even if
you feel that way, it hurts people a lot who care about you to hear you say
that. Sadness is the worst pain possible I’m pretty sure, you should really try
to understand that.” Says Ophelia
“She’s right; depression kills a lot of
people just because the pain is so severe. Seldom do people kill themselves
because the pain of an injury is so severe, but the sadness is overwhelming and
inescapable. You can’t let Stella fall into that group of people; she deserves
better, a lot better.” Says Jenna
“I feel like I am flying blind but I
will be a lot more serious around Stella, I guess. I really don’t want her to
kill herself, and if you think that might happen I’m actually scared of that
happening. I understand people don’t really like what I say, so I’ll make a
concerted effort around Stella to say what I think she wants to hear instead of
what I want to say. I don’t really care about my opinions, and Stella means a
lot more to me than spouting off for another indefinite stretch of time. I
might look like an idiot, but I think as long as Stella doesn’t pry into that
box of upsetting sentiments I should be able to keep her together.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure she will do whatever she can
to keep a lid on that box. She really, really wants to be happy and normal. It
is so sad that you just don’t let her do it. It makes me want to cry and I’m
not even prone to that kind of thing. The only thing preventing Stella from
being happy is you, Stacy. I hope you can stay true to your word and actually
try to stop doing that.” Says Jenna
“I think it’s also my predicament and
what not, she was kind of happy before, just mostly annoyed with me, but that
was normal. I can’t change our predicament, but I can probably change my behavior.
Fear is a pretty strong motivator and I really don’t want to lose Stella, I
don’t know what I would do, she’s basically all the family I have, Dale is the
dead king of the couch and the rest of my family lives on the other side of the
country.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you know how much you need
her too. I think you’ll be able to do the right thing. I know you really love
your sister even if you’re not good at it.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll work on it. If Stella is the
first fatality of our twisted fate then I would have that haunting me for the
rest of my life. The world and the dog can kill us, but I’ve come to realize
that I am probably the only thing could kill Stella because of this.” Says
Stacy
“That’s good. As long as you try you’ll
be fine. It just seems like you don’t try that much and that’s why Stella gets
hurt.” Says Ophelia
“I just never thought of the
consequences before they got brought up. It’s kind of scary now; especially
because I’m just afraid I might slip up and say something stupid and upset
Stella again. Who knows if it will be the straw that breaks the camel’s back?”
Says Stacy
“Luckily for you, Stella has a pretty
strong back, you just happen to throw entire bales of hay on there sometimes.”
Says Jenna
“I’m glad we had this talk though, it
helped me realize how willingly ignorant to that sort of thing I was. I always
wrote of emotions as silly nonsense, but clearly they are more important than
that to some people. It’s kind of scary how they can take control of people so
easily.” Says Stacy
“They can also be good emotions like
love, so they’re not all bad. Emotions can make you feel the worst possibly way
and the best possible way, it’s pretty amazing.” Says Ophelia
“I kind of like the tradeoff of not
feeling the worst possible way even if I don’t get to feel the best possible
way.” Says Stacy
“Don’t worry Stacy; I’m sure you will
find love one day.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled.” Says Stacy
“That’s the spirit.” Says Jenna, as
Stella returns
“Stacy, you’ve got to get dressed.
We’ve got to leave soon.” Says Stella
“I’m glad you’re back to normal.” Says
Stacy
“I never stopped being normal; you’re
the one who isn’t normal. I just came to terms with the fact I’ve got more on
the agenda than dealing with than you at the moment. I don’t even know if I can
deal with you.” Says Stella
“We talked to her, she really is sorry
for what she did.” Says Ophelia
“She feels about as bad as I think she
can, so hopefully that comforts you a little bit.” Says Jenna
“That little bit might not be enough, but
it will have to do for now.” Says Stella
“The girls got me to admit to being
wrong more than I think I have ever done in my entire life while you were in
the bath. Hopefully that helps.” Says Stacy
“Now I’ve got two little bits to help
me feel better, I’m sure that any non-zero number would be a record in that
category, but still. Regardless, we’ve got to get ready.” Says Stella
“Well, somebody has to dress me. I’m
not trying to struggle with it one handed.” Says Stacy
“You’re the nurse Ophelia.” Says Jenna
“Fine. What do you want to wear?” asks
Ophelia
“Just a school uniform is fine. You can
get a clean bra for me out of the drawer.” Says Stacy, unbuttoning her shirt.”
Says Stacy
“You’re not going to put clean panties
on? You’ve been wearing those since Friday morning.” Says Stella
“I’m sure they’re fine.” Says Stacy
“After everything you’ve been through I
doubt that. It’s church, don’t wear dirty clothes.” Says Stella
“Fine. Toss me some knickers; I can put
them on myself.” Says Stacy, Ophelia does so
“You’ve got to pick the cute ones,
don’t you?” asks Stacy, as she puts them on
“Of course.” Says Ophelia, smiling
cutely as she brings clothes to Stacy
“Just try to thread the straps and
sleeves over the limp arm first, the whole reason I’m doing this is so I don’t
have to move it.” Says Stacy, as Ophelia starts to dress her
“You’re lucky Ophelia is nice enough to
dress you.” Says Stella
“She’s the one that wants to go to
church, otherwise I would be dressed like I was all day.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to stand up for the skirt.”
Says Ophelia
“Put some stockings on, you’ve got to
look nice.” Says Stella
“Talk to Ophelia, she’s the one
dressing me.” Says Stella
“I don’t mind.” Says Ophelia, as she
gets some stockings
“Thanks, love.” Says Stella
“Just the shoes and I you can be done
with your nurse duties.” Says Stacy
“I kind of like it, it’s like your my
little girl like I always pretend.” Says Ophelia, finishing dressing Stacy
“You’re a great mom, what can I say.”
Says Stacy
“Thanks.” Says Ophelia
Stacy gets up, unbuttons her top button
and puts the money on the desk in her bra.
“Why do you want to bring the money?”
asks Jenna
“Aren’t you supposed to give the church
money when you go?” asks Stacy
“You don’t have to, but it is a nice
thing to do.” Says Ophelia
“Well I’m a nice person, so there we
go.” Says Stacy
“Brush your teeth and we can leave.”
Says Stella
“A splash of fragrance wouldn’t hurt
either, you didn’t exactly bathe.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not going to church to impress
anybody.” Says Stacy
“We still have to sit next to you, so
be a dear.” Says Stella
“Fine.” Says Stacy, walking to the
bathroom
“She wouldn’t last a day without us.”
Says Stella
“It’s kind of cute though, like she’s a
little kid.” Says Ophelia
“She is old enough to where she should
be expected to be more than a little kid.” Says Stella
“I think it all comes down to whether
or not she wants to or has to do something, if those are the case she can
become an adult very quickly.” Says Jenna
“I know, but it’s still immature to
gripe about doing simple things like that.” Says Stella
“Maybe she just wants to hold on to
some aspect of her youth, since she had so much of it taken away already.” Says
Jenna
“Of all of the parts of youth, I don’t
see why she would pick stubbornness.” Says Stella
“Most adults are pretty stubborn too,
so it might just be a human trait.” Says Jenna
“Of course one of her few human traits
is stubbornness.” Says Stella
“I think most of her traits are fairly
common, as much as they are not found in the ideal human, most humans fall
pretty far from that ideal.” Says Jenna
“I think she’s pretty normal, a little
quirky with a wild imagination, but other than not being good at emotions she’s
just a normal girl.” Says Ophelia
“It would be great if I could feel that
way about her. I’m going to have to try. It’s not healthy to be so upset with
her just because she is who she is. I’ve got to accept that at some point.”
Says Stella
“I think it would be worthwhile to try
to correct some of her undesirable behaviors, but I wouldn’t expect her to turn
on her head overnight. It will take a lot of effort to get through to her, but
I think it’s possible.” Says Jenna
“I’ll do what I can, but I’ve got to
stop expecting miracles. That makes me almost as crazy as she is.” Jokes
Stella, Stacy returns
“You want to take an ibuprofen or
something before we go to church? I hope your arm doesn’t cause you to start
screaming or something.” Says Stella
“It should be fine as long as I don’t
really move it. Jenna did a magical number on it last night and that has seems
to have some lingering effects. Let’s just hope it doesn’t wear off during
church.” Says Stacy
“I’m surprised that I was able to do
anything, honestly.” Says Jenna
“You’re a natural, what can I say.
Let’s venture forth towards the house of god.” Says Stacy, the girls head
downstairs
“Do you know where we are going?” asks
Stella
“Basically, but I’ll just follow
Ophelia.” Says Stacy
“Ok. Thanks for coming with me, it
means a lot.” Says Ophelia
“We’re leaving for church, Dad. Be
good.” Says Stella
“Bye Mr. White, thanks for having us!”
says Ophelia
“I hope you had fun, you know you’re
welcome any time.” Says Dale
“Be safe, thanks again.” Says Jenna
“As long as I don’t crash this couch
into a tree, I should be golden.” Says Dale
“We’re off to find god. Wish us luck.”
Says Stacy
“Bring him home if you find him, I’d
love to have a chat.” Says Dale
“No promises, but I’ve got faith.” Says
Stacy
“Keep the faith.” Says Dale
“You too.” Says Stacy, as the girls
exit
The soft summer wind plays with the happy
clouds in the sky; the carefree breeze indifferently manifests the faith of the
giggling clothes of the sky who are quite tickled to be going anywhere at all.
The same playful wind dances merrily along the streets with the girls, just as
meagerly eager to be headed in the direction of atonement. The reverie of
salvation washes the blood from the hands of the girls and comforted them as a
loving mother. Just as god does not expect a deaf man to rebuke vociferous
blasphemy, he does not expect the denizens of the fine city to sew clothes from
moral fabric that cannot be found within its domain. The city lay sickly with
diminished moral capacity, yet the church still tempts the addicts fond of
intoxicating themselves with such a flavorful insanity.
The girls dressed in white stroll into
view of a church dressed in white, a tastefully antiquated vestige of the
decency that once graced the noble city. The vestibule slowly inhales the
cotton coats of the flock, a wound deciding to drink the blood it has long seeped.
The girls are solemn and nameless ghosts that easily unify with the sentient
river of solemn nameless ghosts. The mindful and intellectual smell of aged
paper greets the travelers who take their seats on the train to heaven,
conducted by the magical letter t, glowing golden in all of its glory. The girls
sit in near back; Ophelia goes to greet her parents before returning to her
friends.
The bold season the air with idle
musings and gossip, the girls rank amongst the timid precociously taciturn in
the pews precariously proximate to the wrath of god and his pious zealots armed
with blades of pacifism and politeness. The organ blares godly as the choir
bathes the congregation in the blessing of euphony. The white robed mystics
march through the artery of the church towards the altar of the holy letter and
brand themselves with a reverent gesture that burns the rune into their bodies.
They find their places, one ghost spooks towards the electric vessel for to
commence his haunting.
"Confíteor Deo omnipoténti, beátæ Maríæ
semper Vírgini, beáto Michaéli Archángelo, beáto Ioánni Baptístæ, sanctis
Apóstolis Petro et Páulo, ómnibus Sanctis, et vobis, fratres: quia peccávi
nimis cogitatióne, verbo, et ópere: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.
Ideo precor beátam Maríam semper Virginem, beátum Michaélem Archángelum, beátum
Ioánnem Baptístam, sanctos Apóstolos Petrum et Páulum, omnes Sanctos, et vos,
fratres, oráre pro me ad Dóminum Deum nostrum. " Spooks the ghost king
"Misereátur tui omnípotens Deus, et
dimíssis peccátis tuis, perdúcat te ad vitam ætérnam." Spook his
gentry
“Amen.”
spooks the king
“Confiteor Deo omnipotenti, et vobis fratres, quia peccavi
nimis, cogitatione, verbo, opere et omissione: mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima
culpa. Ideo precor beatam Mariam semper Virginem, omnes Angelos et Sanctos, et
vos, fratres, orare pro me ad Dominum Deum nostrum.” Stumbles the congregation
"Indulgéntiam, absolutiónem, et
remissiónem peccatórum nostrórum, tríbuat nobis omnípotens et miséricors
Dóminus." Spooks the ghastly gentry
“Amen.”
Spooks the king
The organist rallies the people towards
the Gloria. The people sing…
“Glória in
excélsis Deo
et in terra pax
homínibus bonæ voluntátis.
Laudámus te,
benedícimus te,
adorámus te,
glorificámus te,
grátias ágimus
tibi propter magnam glóriam tuam,
Dómine Deus, Rex
cæléstis,
Deus Pater
omnípotens.
Dómine Fili unigénite,
Jesu Christe,
Dómine Deus, Agnus
Dei, Fílius Patris,
qui tollis peccáta
mundi, miserére nobis;
qui tollis peccáta
mundi, súscipe deprecatiónem nostram.
Qui sedes ad
déxteram Patris, miserére nobis.
Quóniam tu solus
Sanctus, tu solus Dóminus, tu solus Altíssimus,
Jesu Christe, cum
Sancto Spíritu: in glória Dei Patris. Amen.”
“Pray, my friends, blessed with the
blood and body of God almighty, overcome the seduction of the devil’s poison
that still lingers long after the days of Eden. Open your hearts and minds to
God, and allow him to heal your timeless festering wounds.” Says the king,
silence follows
“God in heaven, I call upon you to use
my body as your instrument, for no man can usher your grace unto the world
without divine guidance. Let my voice be the sound by which the people here
today can use to sing in unison or harmony with your words and wisdom. Touch
the souls of each and every man, woman, and child here today, so that we may be
reminded that we do not wander this sea of vice and temptation without a
shepherd. May your light guide us, and ensure that we do not stray into the
darkness. Through piety let us shape this world in the image of your holy
kingdom in heaven, just as you have shaped our bodies in your own image. Holy
Ghost, king of ghosts, guide our hands and shape our souls, for we are your
ghosts, and you are our king. Amen.” Spooks the king incarnate
“Amen.” Says the congregation
“The first reading is the second
chapter of Judges” says the king, he reads it
“The word of God is here to remind us
of the fates of those who have also walked amongst heretics and heathens as we
do today in our city. The Lord makes it very clear to us that his power and his
glory will not save us if we chose to disobey his commands and instead choose
to befriend those who oppose God. He also reminds us that if we are pious and
walk in his ways that he will shower his graces and kindness upon us so long as
we live. God does not give us salvation outright, God allows us to choose whether
or not to take the salvation that he offers us.
One vital message conveyed by this chapter is
the necessity of bestowing our faith upon the youth. Those who have seldom seen
the majestic power of God almighty or are simply ignorant to it can easily forget
the criticality of faith and piety. Be stalwart in reminding your children and
the youth of our community of both the benevolence God showers upon the pious
as well as the wrath he smites the wicked with. The children may be ignorant to
our brothers and sisters who have fallen victim to vice, some of whom have lost
their lives to such evil, thus we must remind them of the dreadful fates of
those who stray from the light of God. This chapter reminds us of what will
happen to our community if we cannot instill the faith adequately. It reminds
us that if our children are so bold as to disregard the faith, then God himself
will turn against them, and ensure that they will be cursed with misfortune and
misery for their treachery. Too often is this the case, as society strays
further and further from God’s light, for the more power mankind manages to
accumulate, the more they fancy themselves as the one true god, fated to die a
painful death as they have abandoned God in favor of the cardinal vice of
pride. The children and youth here today, this chapter also bears an important
message for you.
Even if you are surrounded by sinners,
heathens, and heretics, know that there is still hope for yourself. If you stay
true to the word of God, he shall spare you from the deadly fate that awaits
those who surround you, just as his mercy protected the lives and wellbeing of
the Judges. Know that the Lord is willing to empower you with his divine grace
and become the vessel of his forgiveness; you can be the pardoning hand that
gives those who have strayed from God’s wisdom a second chance by saving them
from their own self-inflicted doom. Though many may not listen, that needn’t
worry you, for even if you can save a few people from falling victim to such a
life of vice and heresy, you are walking in the way of the Lord, and this is
all that can be asked of you.” Says the king
The organ fills the chamber with the
Responsorial Psalm
“My soul is thirsteth for thee, O Lord
my God.” Sings the king
“My soul is thirsting for you, O Lord
my God.” Respond the people
“O God, thou art my
God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for
thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is; to see thy power and thy
glory, so as I have seen thee in the sanctuary. “Chants the king
“My soul is thirsteth for thee, O Lord
my God.” Refrain the people
“ Because
thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise thee. Thus will I bless thee while I live: I will lift up my hands in thy
name. My soul shall be satisfied as with marrow and fatness; and my mouth shall
praise thee with joyful lips.” Chants the king
“My soul is thirsteth for thee, O Lord
my God.” Refrain the people
“When I remember thee
upon my bed, and meditate on thee in the night watches. Because thou hast been
my help, therefore in the shadow of thy wings will I rejoice.” Chants the king
“My soul is thirsteth for thee, O Lord
my God.” Refrain the people
“My
soul followeth hard after thee: thy right hand upholdeth me. But
those that seek my soul, to destroy it, shall go into the lower parts of the
earth.” Chants the king
“My soul is thirsteth for thee, O Lord
my God.” Refrain the people
“They shall fall by the sword: they shall be a
portion for foxes. But the king shall rejoice in God; every one that sweareth
by him shall glory: but the mouth of them that speak lies shall be stopped.”
“My soul is thirsteth for thee, O Lord
my God.” Refrain the people
“The second reading is chapter three of
Galatians.” Says the king, he reads it
“The original context of the chapter
may be lost, as I doubt any of you adhere to every one of the 613 original
commandments, and of course one would not expect you to. This is not to say
that we should disavow every one of them, it is simply reminding us that the
original laws were in place to protect the people until the Messiah could
remind us that the power of faith could redeem those who may have broken the ancient
law. I cannot stand here today and say that any of you or your friends with
tattoos or any who have left the city limits on the holy day are fated to burn
in hell on account of this transgression, for this chapter reminds us that it
is faith that brought salvation to us, not obeying the laws without question.
God works miracles and gives you his spirit solely by faith, obeying his laws
will not win you his graces if you have no faith. Of course such guiding
principles should always be heeded as best they can; but God will look more
kindly upon those who believe, have made mistakes, and repented than those who
obey his laws without faith. The laws were created by men who interpreted the
will of God, but their understanding of God cannot supersede the words of God
incarnate, Jesus Christ. Jesus came to Earth to offer us salvation just as God
had done to his people in the past, Paul reminds us that part of this salvation
was lifting off the shackles of the old laws that were meant to protect the
people in a savage world long enough so that their kin may see the
enlightenment wrought by the Messiah.
This chapter can also be interpreted in
a modern context, as the lessons taught by the bible easily transcend the
original context of their words. The secular laws of man are today what the
original commandments were in Christ’s time; they are simple words that will
keep the people who respect them alive, but cannot bring the people salvation.
The secular laws were all written by men, and thus reflect the natural sin and
corruption found in every man, these laws represent what man would deem to be
right if he were God, but he is not God, he is a man. The law accommodates vice
as it sees fit, and shows irreverence to the word of God in favor of revering
man is if he were one. This means that secular law is a form of idolatry, and
it is wrong to have faith in the law. The will of God conveyed in the Bible
teaches us how we should live, and if we simply seek to live within the bounds
of the law, we have turned from his light and instead are worshiping man.
Remember to hold the expectations of God much closer to your heart than the
expectations of man, for the expectations of God are based in the divine truth,
and the expectations of man are sullied with his vice and impurity. God knows
what is right, and he has told us these things. We cannot disavow the words of
God simply because a man has deemed himself so powerful that his opinions on
what is right trump the wisdom of God Almighty, and was so bold as to inscribe
these sentiments into paper and bind his fellow man to his words as if he
himself were God incarnate. This chapter reminds us that those who rely on
faith to guide their lives are blessed, and those who simply rely on the law
are cursed. That curse is the inability to see the difference between God and
man, which all of us should stay vigilant in order not to fall victim to such a
terrible curse.” Says the king
The Responsorial Psalm is sung again.
“The third reading is Mark chapter 3”
says the king, he reads it
“The beginning of this chapter ties
into the previous reading. Those who adhere to the old laws refuse to even
consider that the messiah may have come, and even after witnessing the
miraculous healing of the man’s hand, they refuse to have faith and instead
turn back on the laws that shackle them. They are so unwilling to have faith in
their own religion that they set out to kill Jesus, for even though he has done
nothing but heal a man, they see this as blasphemy. Those people who were upset
with Jesus were scholars of the ancient law, and when he asks them what is
lawful to do, even they cannot answer him. They have no faith in God, only in
the ancient laws which they are proud scholars of, and thus they are tempted by
the vice of wrath and seek to murder the son of God because they are so
unwilling to believe.
Jesus knows that those who are unwilling
to believe in him desire to end his life, and he appoints the apostles whose
faith in God alone empowers them to spread the word of God and drive out
demons, for he knows that the wickedness of mortal men is more than enough to
slay the Son of God, for this is God’s will. It is God’s will to allow man to
forsake his God and suffer eternally for such grievances, but Jesus’s love for
the people causes him to appoint the apostles in order to keep the faith alive
even when Jesus meets his untimely end, and these men are appointed because
they have faith, and faith is more powerful than the law. This is made clear in
history for those people with faith in Christ created vast kingdoms that
spanned the world, while those who chose to instead revere the ancient law and
forsake Jesus had their kingdom conquered time and time again. This is the
point where God endows man with the message that he shows love to the faithful,
not to those who follow the law without faith.
Jesus enters a house with a crowd of
people, and the scholars of the old law come to rebuke him and accuse him of
being possessed by the prince of demons, for they believe that only the prince
of demons is strong enough to cast demons out of a person, as if they had
forgotten about God entirely. Jesus was more powerful than the demons, and
clearly a demon cannot cast itself out, but still those bound to the law
refused to see this. The laws meant to keep the people free from sin have
betrayed them and cause them to commit the eternal sin of blasphemy, the laws
shackle the people and prevent them from embracing the Son of God and allowing him
to usher them unto salvation. For us, the laws may not be Torahic, but they
could easily be the expectations of friends and peers that cause us to forsake
our faith and instead do immoral things in order to gain the acceptance of
society. Know that while society may accept you if you become tolerant to their
vices, God may easily shun you, for you have chosen to forsake him and will be
greeted with the same grim fate as all others in the past who have done so. If
your friends or even your family seek to cause you to stray from the path of
godliness, you can take the words of Jesus to heart. Whoever does God’s will is
the family of God, and even if your friends and your family abandon you because
you will not succumb to vice, know that the family of God will welcome you with
open arms so long as you open your heart and mind to the words, wisdom, and
power of God Almighty.”
The King of Ghosts leads the people
through the creed
“Credo in unum Deum, Patrem
omnipoténtem, Factórem cæli et terræ, Visibílium ómnium et invisibílium. Et in
unum Dóminum Iesum Christum, Fílium Dei Unigénitum, Et ex Patre natum ante
ómnia sǽcula. Deum de Deo, lumen de lúmine, Deum verum de Deo vero, Génitum, non factum, consubstantiálem Patri: Per quem ómnia facta sunt. Qui propter nos hómines et propter nostram salútem Descéndit de cælis. Et incarnátus est de Spíritu Sancto Ex María Vírgine, et homo factus est. Crucifíxus
étiam pro nobis sub Póntio Piláto; Passus, et sepúltus est, Et resurréxit
tértia die, secúndum Scriptúras, Et ascéndit in cælum, sedet ad déxteram
Patris. Et íterum ventúrus est cum glória, Iudicáre vivos et mórtuos, Cuius
regni non erit finis. Et in Spíritum Sanctum, Dóminum et vivificántem: Qui ex
Patre Filióque procédit. Qui cum Patre et Fílio simul adorátur et
conglorificátur: Qui locútus est per prophétas. Et unam, sanctam, cathólicam et
apostólicam Ecclésiam. Confíteor unum baptísma in remissiónem peccatórum. Et
expécto resurrectiónem mortuórum, Et vitam ventúri sǽculi. Amen“ they chant
“Lord, we ask today that you show mercy
to those worthy of it, bring love to the loveless, bring hope to the hopeless,
spur faith in the nonbeliever, bring comfort to the sick, give rest to the
dead, and tend to your flock so that none who seek your guidance may wander
astray: Amen.” Says the king
“Amen” say the people
Robed youth bring the priest bread and
wine and place them on an altar for the king; they take two golden plates and
send them through the pews. The king performs the ceremonial blessing of the
offering in the ceremonial language, remembering their faith, their god, their
messiah, the saints, ringing a bell, asking for salvation, singing, asking that
their offering become the body and blood of their messiah, emulating the last
supper, proclaiming faith in the resurrection, asking the their lord look
favorably upon their offering, asking
that an angel take the offering to heaven and bless the people, praying for the
dead, praying for the martyrs and the saints, admitting guilt, asking for
forgiveness, crediting the messiah for their faith and prosperity, and giving
all glory and honor to their god. Stacy sits the plate on her lap, puts eight
dollars in the plate, and passes it along.
They people pray the common man’s
prayer, it is asked that they be judged not by their sins but by their faith,
the shake peaceful hands, the people sing as bread is broken, they acknowledge
their unworthiness of such a blessing. The nameless people file towards the
font and aid those who cannot walk themselves, as each one approaches the
priest, it bows its head and crosses the t on its body, they are fed the body
of their messiah, they mutter ‘Amen’, they sing until everybody is fed the body
of the messiah and drink his blood. They sit and reflect in silence before
asking that their sacrament bless them throughout their lives.
“Before we depart, let us remember
those that could not join us here today, be it sickness, sloth, or death that
has prevented them from joining us. We ask that the Lord may reach out and lead
them unto salvation, for our service today has not reached their souls. Though
some of our fellowship may be absent from their pew, let us also remember those
who have joined us for the first time. For as I touched upon today, faith alone
will lead you to salvation, and for those who may have strayed from God to
return on such a holy day is a blessing indeed, as it reminds us that the Lord
can still spur faith in the faithless, and may that faith that brought you here
today never leave your bodies. Let us reflect on the lessons that the Lord
teaches and live in the way that he wants us to live, for if we come to church
out of a sense of obligation to tradition or as some measure to avoid divine
punishment rather than to relish our faith in God, we are no better than the
scholars of Torahic law who sought to murder Jesus Christ. Let the blessings of
the Lord guide your hands, heal your hearts, and strengthen your minds, for
this city is undoubtedly one of the many valleys of the shadow of death, and
God may well be the only force capable of protecting you. Have faith and allow
him to guide you on the path of righteousness, fear not the evil that surrounds
us, because your faith assures that the goodness of the lord will follow you as
live with righteousness, while those around you die afflicted by vice, and this
faith alone is what will empower you to walk in the way of the Lord, through
trials and tribulations, do not falter, and at the end of this treacherous road
you will find salvation. Go forth, impart God’s will, spread the word of God,
be godly, and above all else, be faithful. In the name of the Father, and of
the Son, and of the Holy Spirit…”
“Amen.” Speak the people merrily, as a
hearty shuffle about ensues, largely the people searching for the salvation of
the door.
“The lord is merciful indeed.” Says
Stacy, exhausted
“I’m glad all of you came. I feel
better, I usually don’t listen that much but I liked it today.” Says Ophelia
“I liked the parts I could understand,
but most of it was in Latin, so I’m just listening to somebody babble nonsense
from my perspective.” Says Stacy
“It’s not nonsense, I don’t know what
it means but I know it’s holy and important. That was the lesson, that faith
will save you.” Says Ophelia
“Don’t blaspheme the holy words,
Stacy.” Says Stella
“Forgive me.” Says Stacy
“You do probably want to go to confession.”
Says Ophelia
“Why?” asks Stacy
“The first step in atonement is
admitting guilt.” Says Jenna
“I’ll see what I can do.” Says Stacy
“It’s good. Even if you don’t do
everything perfect, just remember that faith is the most important part.” Says
Ophelia
“You would make a great preacher one
day.” Says Stacy
“I’m nothing like Father Cormac. He’s
really good at that sort of thing. I only know the basics.” Says Ophelia
“Thanks for taking us, Ophelia. I think
we all benefited greatly from this.” Says Stella
“Any time. We can always go again next
week.” Says Ophelia
“We might have to.” Says Jenna, grimly
“I know I have to, so it would be great
if you all come with me.” Says Ophelia
“Let’s go home. I could use a nice
meditation to reflect on the words of god.” Says Stacy
“You just want to sleep.” Says Stella
“I stayed awake the whole time, that is
an accomplishment in my book.” Says Stacy
“I’m proud of you, hopefully the word
of God helped give you some clarity.” Says Jenna
“I took the sermon to heart, it was
relatable.” Says Stacy
“Just don’t fall victim to
reinterpreting it however you feel, that was part of the lesson.” Says Stella
“Duely noted.” Says Stacy
“We should get going, my things are at
your house and I’m sure my parents want me to get home soon. I’m sure chores
are piling up as we speak.” Says Jenna
“No work on the Sabbath.” Says Stacy
“You realize every day isn’t the
Sabbath.” Says Stella
“At least I’m in the right one day of
the week.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think that includes chores and
stuff.” Says Ophelia
“My parents clearly don’t think so.”
Says Jenna
Ophelia’s parents approach
“I’m glad you girls could make it. Did
you enjoy the service?” asks her father
“Yes, very much so Mr. Reid” says
Stella
“That’s good to hear. Father Cormac is
an excellent speaker.” He says
“I’ve got to get my things from Stacy’s
house, but then I’ll come home.” Says Ophelia
“We’ll see you later then, me and the
Mrs. are going out for lunch; enjoy the company of your friends. It was good to
see that you all have not strayed too far from the light of God; you’re coming
to that age where the city lays a heavy curse on many youth. Take care now.” He
says
“Bye dad.” Says Ophelia as her parents
leave
“Bye, Mr. and Mrs. Reid.” Say the girls
“Lunch sounds pretty good right about
now.” Says Stacy
“We’ve got food at the house.” Says
Stella, getting up
“Now we’ve got to figure out how to get
that food into my belly.” Says Stacy, as the girls follow Stella towards the
exit
“I’m sure we will manage.” Says Stella
An amiable breeze of the fresh air
greets the girls as they step outside, the air filled with the sweet, pure and
cool of freedom that opposes the dank smell of incense and aging paper that had
overpowered the girls for so long. The city that surrounds them stands drawn in
an indifferent meaningless gray, too large and commanding to be anything but
indifferent to the holy building dressed in white. The flock of cotton fleece
slowly disperses and ceases to be a pure substance and instead becomes trivial
particulate matter amongst the secular armies dressed in their uniform of
irreverence, clad in denim, leather, polyester, nylon, spandex, flannel, and
even a few with flairs of fur regardless of the pleasant lather of heat that
massages the city people. The girls walk comforted by the words of the mystic,
each for their own reasons, fatigue from the nights events grows stronger as
they exert themselves with yet another journey towards ephemeral comfort and
safety. The trees flutter in the soft wind and the leaves giggle in their
timeless bubbly carefree matter indicative of their nonchalant view that this
earthly hell was nothing but fun in the sun. The girls finally reach the house
that still holds itself together by the same miraculous blessing that keeps the
girls alive. They enter the door.
“We’re home.” Says Stella
“Hey.” Says Dale, waking up “You have
fun?” he asks
“We had church. I wouldn’t exactly call
it fun.” Says Stacy
“We enjoyed it, it wasn’t meant to be
fun.” Says Stella
“I’m glad. You learn anything important?”
asks Dale
“It was about how having faith is more
important than following the rituals, you might have liked it.” Says Stacy
“Yeah. That’s good. I can’t really do
the whole church thing, but I think I’ve got some faith.” Says Dale
“We prayed for you at the end, he
included everybody who couldn’t come because they were sick.” Says Ophelia
“Thanks. That means a lot to me. I’m
glad somebody is still thinking about those of us who have been forgotten by
the rest of the world.” Says Dale
“I hope you get better.” Says Ophelia
“Unless Jesus comes back and starts
curing the blind, I don’t think there’s much of a chance for me.” Says Dale
“I’ll be happy if you don’t get any
worse.” Says Stacy
“I’ll do my best.” Says Dale
“Good. We’ll be upstairs.” Says Stella,
going upstairs
“All God asks of you is that you do
your best.” Says Ophelia, as the rest of the girls go upstairs
“I’ll try not to let him down.” Says
Dale
“I really don’t want to leave you to
your own devices, Stacy, but I really do have to go.” Says Jenna, grabbing her
things as the others sit on the beds
“My devices have yet to fail me, you
shouldn’t be worried.” Says Stacy
“Your devices pushed every one of us
here to the breaking point last night, you are lucky that all of us still
alive.” Says Jenna
“I’ll do what I can to keep an eye on
the pressure gauges; the last thing I want is our good steamship to explode on
us now. Don’t think I’m so quick to forget what you three have talked to me
about, as much as I may seem nonchalant, self-preservation is a key mantra of
mine, and you three are as much a part of me as my own rattling bones.” Says
Stacy
“I hope you really mean that. You had
me worried a bit about how indifferent you were to your own death.” Says Jenna
“I may be indifferent to that, but my
desire to usher every sick bastard I can unto damnation is more than enough to
keep me alive. All of our problems can be attributed to those people, the
people that I must acknowledge and be fully aware of on account of my curse,
and the people who I shall one day serve as the damnator of, should the good
lord deliver us.” Says Stacy
“Why can’t you just enjoy life like a
normal person?” asks Stella
“I can’t enjoy life like a normal
person because I am not anything close to a normal person. That doesn’t mean I
don’t enjoy life, however.” Says Stacy
“That is kind of scary that you like
it, but I think that has to be God doing his will through you. God is the only
one who can stomach that kind of thing, I think.” Says Ophelia
“It feels like the love of god floods
through my veins when I do those things. It feels so righteous and holy.” Says
Stacy
“Then it has to be God, hopefully he
helps me too. I just felt really scared.” Says Ophelia
“Regardless of whether or not you like
it, you still should be more careful, and don’t forget about your regular life.
You can’t be this person around anybody else, so please don’t forget about the
normal Stacy that we all love and try to make sure nobody finds out about
this.” Says Jenna
“I could never forget the Stacy that we
all love, for I love her just as much as anybody else in the room. Besides, how
could I forget about my regular life when I have Stella to remind me of my
responsibilities as a schoolgirl any time of the day?” Says Stacy
“I just want to forget about your
magical life. I just never want to hear about it again.” Says Stella
“Sadly that is impossible, but didn’t
we learn today that we should not close our eyes to the miracles god works
every day.” Says Stacy
“I would hardly call this a miracle.”
Says Jenna
“If we got magical powers through a
servant of God it is kind of a miracle.” Says Ophelia
“God shall protect us so long as we
have faith, se we needn’t worry.” Says Stacy
“You better pray every single day if
you want me to be comforted by the thought that god is protecting you of all
people.” Says Stella
“I pray with premeditation and my
goodwill is holy vengeance. The customs and traditions are only there to
protect the people until the truth of god’s will is revealed to them by the
lord, are they not?” asks Stacy
“Why do you have to twist and contort
every last thing, even the word of god, until it fits into your sick mangled
delusional interpretation of the world?” asks Stella
“I didn’t even twist or contort that one;
I thought it was pretty good.” Says Stacy
“I think Stacy is right, if God wants
her to do these things, we have to support her. We can’t be upset with God’s
will.” Says Ophelia
“It does not matter what the cause of
our predicament it, be it god’s will, a curse, bad luck, demonic possession, or
a random circumstance. Our predicament is a fact, regardless of the cause, and
for that reason I accept it, I do not dwell upon the existentialism relating to
our predicament because I do not want to dwell on it any more than I must. I
hope we can set that part of our lives aside for a while and go back to being
normal for a little bit. I have to go, I hope to have a happy, normal Monday
tomorrow, so please remember that we were schoolgirls before all of this
happened, and that has yet to change. I’m off, may god help us all.” Says Jenna
“Toodle-oo” says Stacy
“Bye, Jenna. See you tomorrow.” Says
Ophelia
“Ta ta. I hope some of your
reasonability rubbed off on Stacy.” Says Stella
“Remember what we talked about Stacy,
it is very, very important.” Says Jenna, looking at Stacy as she stands in the
door
“I will, I will. I know that everybody
can easily get hurt. I will do my best to ensure that does not happen.” Says
Stacy
“Thank You. Ta ta.” Says Jenna as she
leaves
“I’m glad you believe in God, even if Jenna
doesn’t as much as you do. I’m sure God will protect you, because you’re the
one that needs it most.” Says Ophelia
“Faith is one of the few comforts I can
find at this point in my life.” Says Stacy
“I hope you also have faith Stella, it
will really help you. Of course with everything, but really when it comes to
Stacy, she was chosen by God to be his magical helper, and if you believe in
God’s will you will be happy that she was given such an important job and is
capable of doing it.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know if she is capable of
doing it. That is the source of my concerns.” Says Stella
“She says it feels like God takes over
her body, so if you have faith in God then you shouldn’t be concerned when
Stacy goes out to do the lord’s work.” Says Ophelia
“That is a lot of faith to have; I
don’t think anybody has ever had that much faith in god with the exception of
maybe you. I will see what I can do, but if there is anything that I want to
believe right now it is that god will protect my sister and the rest of us. It
is hard to for me to have that much faith considering what happened last night,
but I will do my best to find it.” Says Stella
“I am alive; god had to teach me my
lesson for sympathizing with those who turn their back on his glory. I will not
make that mistake again. Clearly god is looking out for all of us, so let that
fill you with faith.” Says Stacy
“It is not as clear to me as it is to
you, but as I said before I will try to find that faith.” Says Stella
“That’s good. I’ve also got to go. I
hope you feel better Stacy, thanks for inviting us over and coming to church
with me. It was like 80% fun when you leave out the middle, so that’s not too
bad.” Says Ophelia as she gets her things
“Not bad at all. Be good now.” Says
Stacy
“I will. You two also be good.” Says
Ophelia
“I am trying to think of what that word
means and I’m drawing a complete blank after all of the revelations of the past
two days.” Says Stella
“I’m sure you will remember, it’s a
pretty easy word. Bye-bye.” Says Ophelia as she walks out the door
“I see humility was not one of the
virutes that you picked up on today.” Says Stella
“I don’t think he touched on that one.”
Says Stacy
“Unfortunately.” Says Stella
“I’ve learned plenty of lessons in the
past day, I am a changed woman. Believe me.” Says Stacy
“I want to, but I don’t.” says Stella
“You’ll see. How about that lunch you
were talking about?” asks Stacy
“Clearly you haven’t changed that
much.” Jokes Stella
“I don’t think a lesson exists that can
teach a man not to hunger.” Says Stacy
“Grilled cheese and tomato soup sound
good?” asks Stella
“Are you sure you don’t have a ring,
you seem to have some kind of magical powers when it comes to pleasing my
belly.” Says Stacy
“I am flattered that you think my
ability to make a sandwich compares to your instinct that allows you to hunt
down evil people and kill them swiftly and mercilessly.” Says Stella
“You make a damn good sandwich,
though.” Says Stacy
“Thanks. I’ll get started, I’m sure you
want to rest for a bit.” Says Stella
“I’d rather whet my appetite with the
flavorful aromas, as tempting as resting is.” Says Stacy
“It shouldn’t take long.” Says Stella,
getting up, the girls head downstairs
“I’m already salivating.” Says Stacy
“I figured you would start salivating
any time you see me.” jokes Stella
“Oh, I do.” Says Stacy
“Good. I wouldn’t be a good sister if
you didn’t.” says Stella, starting to cook
“I’ll work on doing my part, I know
I’ve been lacking in that department.” Says Stacy
“I hope you mean that.” Says Stella
“I do, for your sake as well as mine.
I’ve got to respect and accommodate the fact that others are a bit more peopley
than I am, especially you.” Says Stacy
“Yes, that’s me, the peopley one.” Says
Stella, bringing her sister a glass of milk
“It’s good that you are. I probably
wouldn’t have a drop of peopley juice in me if it weren’t for you.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you’ve got that drop, we’ve
just got to work on finding some more of them.” Says Stella
“Not too much, I don’t want it to
intoxicate my blood and make me sick.” Says Stacy
“You realize that you are like dad,
right? That the lack of poison makes you sick.” Says Stella
“Well, I don’t want to be sick
regardless.” Says Stacy
“I guess there’s not much I can do
about that.” Says Stella
“I’ll take you up on the ibuprofen, the
magic is fading and I’m starting to hurt a bit.” Says Stacy
“Sure thing. You sure you don’t want to
see a doctor?” asks Stella
“I don’t want anybody to know about
this. You realize how bad that would be.” Says Stacy
“I do, but an infection could easily be
worse.” Says Stella, giving her the pills
“Worst comes to worst, I’ll just get
Jenna to put in some overtime. Besides, you think I want to tell dad about
this?” asks Stacy
“I’m sure he will be impressed. He
seems to have as little of a grasp on reality as you do.” Says Stella
“That’s probably true, but I don’t want
him to give him one more thing to worry about. His thirst might escalate and we
certainly don’t need that.” Says Stacy
“Still, you seem pretty confident in
some shoddy medical work you pulled out of your ass last night.” Says Stella
“I didn’t pull it out of my ass, I’m
omniscient, at least when it comes to doing good and fighting evil, and seeing
how I can’t do those things if I’m dead or incapacitated, I just knew what to
do and how to do it.” Says Stacy
“I’ll take your word for it. I want to
ignore it just as much as you do.” Says Stella
“Good. Turning a blind eye never hurt
anybody, so long as the other eye remains vigilant.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope that works out for the
best.” Says Stella
“I’ve not got much of a choice, one eye
must be blind to the magic, and the other must be blind to the life of a
schoolgirl, otherwise their own instincts will start to conflict.” Says Stacy
“You think you will be able to handle
that sort of double life?” asks Stella
“Sure, I’ve always been able to
outright deny the truth if I would rather believe something else.” Says Stacy
“I never thought that skill would come
in handy.” Says Stella
“Neither did I, but it’s certainly
convenient at this point.” Says Stacy
“Sadly I am not so capable of doing
that. I’ve been doing all right for the past week, but seeing you in pain like
this really brings this whole magic nonsense home.” Says Stella
“The pain will be gone soon, don’t
worry about that. I’ve got a day or two before this wound turns into nothing
but a memory.” Says Stacy
“I’m not sure that’s how gunshot wounds
work.” Says Stella
“They are when they’ve been blessed by
a healing angel of the lord. I have a painful amount of foresight and the
healing time is one of the few consistencies I can draw from my musings.” Says
Stacy
“What exactly are you musing about?”
asks Stella
“The ring’s got to be polished sooner
or later; I was just peeking to see if there were any low hanging fruit that
might tempt me.” Says Stacy
“Jesus, not even a day since you’ve
been shot and you’re already thinking about heading back out into the city on
your conquest?” asks Stella
“Not really, I was just thinking if
there was something so convenient enough to tempt me. You know timing is
everything, and if I can get a few days of peace for a quarter of the price as
normal it’s hard to ignore such an offer.” Says Stacy
“What is a quarter of that price? Being
stabbed or something?” asks Stella
“I’m a cheapskate, you know, and this
price was tastelessly high, most of the things I have been considering were
free, more or less.” Says Stacy
“What do you mean free?” asks Stella
“Meaning scot-free, where I’m not in
harm’s way at all.” Says Stacy
“That is actually comforting; please do
try to do those things from now on.” Says Stella
“It’s quite rare that someone damnable
enough to be worthy of death doesn’t carry a weapon on them and also happens to
be in the right place at the right time for me to reap their souls without
arousing suspicion.” Says Stacy
“You couldn’t just let me hang on to
that hope for a second, could you?” asks Stella
“That’s not to say that it doesn’t
happen. Keep your hopes up, even if it is something small, it could still buy
me some time.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. Eat up. I know you’re
hungry.” Says Stella, bringing food for her sister and serving some for herself
“You’ve got quite the knack for reading
emotions.” Says Stacy
“That’s not an emotion.” Says Stella
“It’s a feeling though, it’s pretty
close.” Says Stacy
“It’s really not.” Says Stella
“Besides I have other emotions, but
it’s mostly anger.” Says Stacy
“You don’t ever feel sad?” asks Stella
“Kind of, maybe an angry sad more often
than a sad sad.” Says Stacy
“When was the last time you felt sad
sad.” Says Stella
“When I thought about mom the other
day.” Says Stacy
“That’s good that you can feel sad
about that. It would be pretty bad if you didn’t.” says Stella
“It wasn’t as much as you; you do this
kind of wild sad that is kind of scary.” Says Stacy
“I know, you understand why that
happens, don’t you?” asks Stella
“I do, sort of. I know I say the wrong
things, but the girls talked a bit of sense into me and I’m really going to try
to stop doing that. It really does hurt me to see you like that.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure it’s easier said than done,
considering all of the other things you say you are going to do, I’m not so
sure how optimistic I should feel about that one.” Says Stella
“That’s something I can actually work
on every day when I’m with you. They really drilled it into my head to be aware
of the fact that I might hurt your feelings with what I do or say. I really
don’t want to do that, so that’s why I’ll actually work on it. The other stuff
I can’t really do anything about at this point in my life, as nobody would
rally behind a 14 year old girl calling for a coup.” Says Stacy
“I’ll hold you to it.” Says Stella
“Please, do. Just forgive me if I slip
up, my mouth works a bit faster than my mind sometimes.” Says Stacy
“I’ve done my best in that regard for
my entire life, so I’m not going to stop any time soon.” Says Stella
“Thanks. The food is great, by the
way.” Says Stacy, drinking the last of her soup from the bowl
“What food?” jokes Stella
“Well, it was good. Thanks to your
delicious meal, I will be able to sleep for a very, very long time. Nothing
like a good meal to put you in the mood for a nap.” Says Stacy
“Go rest, you need it. I’ll clean up.”
Says Stella
“I’m sure you’d rather have some
company while you eat.” Says Stacy
“You sure you don’t want to lay down
for a bit?” asks Stella
“I don’t want to leave you alone with
your thoughts.” Says Stacy
“Thanks.” Says Stella
“I’ll try to keep you smiling, but if
for some reason you need a shoulder to cry on you can always come to me.” Says
Stacy
“You’re the one that has been making me
start to cry as of late.” Says Stella
“Sorry about that. I was just thinking
if for some odd reason something else set you off, then you could come to me.”
Says Stacy
“I’ll keep that in mind incase another unimaginable
tragedy strikes me out of the blue.” Says Stella
“I’m trying to help, I don’t know if
it’s working.” Says Stacy
“It’s kind of cute watching you
struggle to understand something you cannot comprehend in the slightest. I
don’t know if it helps, but it’s funny enough to distract me a bit. I don’t
know if that’s the healthy reaction to your plight, but what can be done.” Says
Stella
“I’ll take it. I don’t mind being the
source of humor.” Says Stacy
“It’s a very sad kind of funny, but
when you’re as distraught as I am you can kind of divide out the overarching
sadness and you’re left with little bits and pieces that flavor the sadness.”
Says Stella
“Putting all that studying to good use,
I see.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think they teach us how to
repress our feelings in school, if they did, I could very well be as collected
as Jenna throughout this ordeal.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure they do, if you’re
feelings are in any way contrary to the sentiments the school wants you to have
you know damn well that you should repress them or they will be repressed for
you.” Says Stacy
“I suppose I’ve never had those sorts
of feelings so I missed out on that experience.” Says Stella, getting up to
wash the dishes
“It’s not a pleasant one to have your
sentiments dismissed as if your opinions are worthless nonsense.” Says Stacy
“That’s funny because reasonable people
would offhandedly dismiss your opinions are worthless nonsense.” Says Stella
“That makes me glad that reasonable
people are a rare breed in this world.” Says Stacy
“You would rather have your guiding
principles be worthless nonsense than something reasonable and sensible?” asks
Stacy
“I would like to live in a utopia, but
that is clearly impossible. When it comes down to it, my guiding principles are
either going to be my allegedly worthless nonsense or the clearly worthless
nonsense that was instilled in me by the cultists of some arrogant asshole that
had the initiative to do exactly what I want to do.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think there are varying
degrees of worthlessness and nonsense and that while some of the principles of
society may score at a three or four, yours happen to be at a 9 or 10?” asks
Stella
“Even if that were the case, it does
not matter. If 40% of a car is broken, that car is going just as far as a car
that is 90% broken. It makes no difference to society, they get the same
results. The only difference is that I get what I want. Do know that I’m being
kind enough to entertain your assertion that my ideas are worthless nonsense.”
Says Stacy
“I suppose that’s a start. You said
yourself that embracing something can easily start with facetiously
entertaining the idea. You want another glass of milk?” asks Stella
“Please and thank you. I doubt my body
will ever grow accustomed to the sick masochism of respecting society, let
alone embrace this feeling. I just decided it was high time to share my
privilege of always being correct with you, even if it creates a paradoxical
sort of scenario.” Says Stacy
“Don’t bother with that, I would just
end up arguing with my own ideas at that point.” Says Stella, bringing Stacy
the milk
“That’s a good point. I suppose it would be better for me to stick to my guns
so you can stick to yours, rather than forcing you to mount a counter offensive
with some arsenal of unfathomable logic that can criticize both me and society
simultaneously.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure it’s possible, but it is a
lot easier for me to take the side of the common sentiment.” Says Stella
“It is only the common sentiment
because it is forced upon those who cannot think for themselves. If every man
was able to come to their own conclusions about that sort of thing there would never
be any consensus, so the consensus is predetermined and the people are
relentlessly indoctrinated with it.” Says Stacy
“Yet instead of aspiring to empower
every man do be able to think for himself, you just want to indoctrinate people
with your own predetermined consensus as opposed to the current one.” Says
Stella
“Of course, I want a consensus after
all. An army is no longer an army if each soldier marches in his own
direction.” Says Stacy
“That makes enough sense, but you still
want the entire army to turn their backs on the war and fight those that
command them.” Says Stella
“I’m sure most of them want to do that
too. I’ve just got to be the driving force that ignites that tinderbox.” Says
Stacy
“Good luck with that. I’m going upstairs;
I’ve got plenty of homework to do.” Says Stella
“I’ll join you. I’ll nap to my heart’s
content, but hopefully I can scrawl something on the papers just to save face.”
Says Stacy, as they get up
“Isn’t that all you ever do?” asks
Stella
“That’s a good point; I would say it is
typically more of an inscribing as opposed to a scrawling, though. I figure
even holding the paper with my dead arm is going to kill me.” Says Stacy
“What are you going to tell people when
they see your arm being limp all day?” Says Stella
“I was playing basketball and fell or
something. Sounds legitimate enough to me.” Says Stacy
“I’ll defend that story with my life;
make sure you run it by the girls.” Says Stella as the enter the room
Stacy undresses from the church
clothes, the money falls on the floor as she takes her bra off, she throws it
on her desk and throws the shirt back on lazily before crawling into bed.
“Wake me up when it’s supper time.” She
says
“You’re not even going to put any
blankets on?” asks Stella
“It’s the afternoon in the middle of summer;
I’m not trying to die.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad to hear that. Sleep tight.”
Says Stella
A bold and haughty afternoon sun
parades itself as the crown jewel of the sky. It slips and stumbles from the
heavens, slowly at first but rapidly gaining momentum as a mountain climber
that is tumbling down the steep slopes, the blood beneath its skin ripens it’s
as it starts to bruise into a deeper solemn orange as all with foresight know
it will soon weep its red blood before drowning in the abyss at the edge of the
world.
Stacy groans softly.
“You awake?” asks Stella
“Unfortunately.” Says Stacy
“I regret to inform you that you have
plenty of homework to do. It is Sunday after all.”
“No work on the Sabbath.” Says Stacy
“How pious of you to obey the word of
god only if it suits your fancy, if you really believe that you would have done
it yesterday.” Says Stella
“That’s also the Sabbath.” Says Stacy
“You are going to damn yourself twice
over by attempting to believe in two contradictory religions just to have an
excuse not to do anything on the weekend?” asks Stella
“Sounds like a fair trade off to me.”
Says Stacy
“You can come up with as many excuses
as you want, but you still have to do your homework.” Says Stella
“Remind me just to die next time I get
shot.” Says Stacy
“Why can’t you just be a normal
person?” says Stella
“I am normal. It’s normal for teenagers
to want to die.” Says Stacy
“It’s normal for them to do their
homework, Stacy.” Says Stella
“I’m sure most of them are contemplating
suicide while they do it.” Says Stacy
“Why do you want to die all of a
sudden, what happened to conquering the world?” asks Stella
“It sounds like a permanent vacation to
me.” Says Stacy
“You are that tired of being alive?”
asks Stella
“Exhaustion is quite painful. This sort
of fatigue makes me feel like I’m already on my deathbed. The mounting pressure
of school and the dog feel like crushing weights on my body.” Says Stacy
“I’m sorry to hear that, but that is
kind of a part of life. Maybe not the dog, but school, work, and family
responsibilities all feel like that sometimes, but that shouldn’t make you want
to die. Please be reasonable and at least try to do your homework.” Says Stella
“Can’t you just do it for me?” asks
Stacy
“If I do that, I’m pretty sure you
would go get shot every time that you have an assignment due.” Says Stella
“That’s a good point.” Says Stacy
“How can you prefer getting shot to
doing homework?” asks Stella
“One of them feels like physical pain,
one of them feels like razor blades constantly slitting my brain and rubbing
lye in the wounds. The pain of having your own personality tortured by blades
and caustic chemicals until you are a mindless servant of Babylon is far more
excruciating, wounds can heal, but that sort of slavery is eternal.” Says Stacy
“Can’t you go back to having the
determination to convince Babylon to grant you a sword just so you can stab
them in the back? You can’t just give up on your dreams like this.” Says Stella
“Since when do you support my dreams?”
asks Stacy
“I’d rather have the Stacy that wanted
to live forever than the Stacy that just wants to die. I hate hearing you talk
like this.” Says Stella
“I didn’t know life could be so
exhausting. This is quite the hurdle I’ve got before me.” Says Stacy
“If your that tired, go back to sleep.
Hopefully you will feel better.” Says Stella
“I pray I die before I wake.” Says
Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy.” Says Stella, who
returns to her studies beginning to softly cry in hopeless silence as Stacy
falls back to sleep
A long moment of silence passes before
Stella closes her book, breathes, bites her lip and shakes her head slightly,
as it still trickles tiny tears. She walks over to Stacy’s bed and crawls on
top of her and starts to kiss her lips softly.
“What are you doing?” asks Stacy, tired
and confused
“When you go out and get shot, and you
talk all day about wanting to die, you scare the fuck out of me. I need you to
have a reason not to go and die, so I want to make you love me, really fucking
love me, so you have a good reason not to get yourself killed.” Says Stella,
crying even more, she sticks her hand down Stacy’s panties and begins to stroke
her softly. She nuzzles her head against Stacy’s and cries while kissing her
neck.
“I need you Stacy, I really fucking
need you, you know this. I can’t lose you, you clearly don’t give a fuck about
yourself or anything for that matter, but I need you to give a fuck about
something, so please love me, really fucking love me.” Pleads Stella,
increasing the fervor of her deviant hand
“This is illegal.” Says Stacy, rearing
her head back from Stella, bewildered
“You do illegal things too, Stacy.”
Says Stella, growing upset as she inserts her fingers swiftly inside of Stacy
“Holy shit.” Gasps Stacy, not expecting
such force from Stella
“You like my fingers inside of you?”
asks Stella in a seductively and playfully distraught voice
“God
damn. That kind of hurts.” Says Stacy, short on breath and quite
uncomfortable
“You’re hurting me too, Stacy.” Says
Stella, more sad than upset, still relentless with her advances as her
courteous arm wraps around Stacy’s back and holds her firmly while she kisses
her face and neck softly
“You know I can’t fight you off right
now.” Says Stacy, exhausted, short on breath and painfully befuddled,
confusedly slapping Stella on the ribs slightly,
“Then don’t try and fight it.” Says
Stella, with a playful insanity
“That’s enough, Stella.” Pleads Stacy
“I’m not stopping until you love me.”
Says Stella, in a serious tone as she firmly grasps Stacy’s throat, increasing
the voracity of both her devious hand and her desperate lips, kissing Stacy’s
lips passionately
“God Damn It, I love you Stella.” Gasps
Stacy as she attempts to pull her head away
“I don’t believe you!” Says Stella as
she starts to cry again
“Why?” asks Stacy, scared and confused
“Make me believe you!” says Stella, who
has ceased to kiss Stacy and now only holds her tightly and cries while her
amoral hand thoughtlessly increases it’s forcefulness out of indignation
Stacy grabs her sister’s hair with her
functional arm and pulls Stella’s head towards her own mouth and deeply kisses
her with a passionate fear as Stella’s tears drip onto her face. Stella’s
passion quickly overpowers Stacy’s as she savors the taste of the only person
she truly loves, tasting as much of her as she possibly can. Finally convinced,
Stella looks down on her crying sister with deranged joy of the discovery some
form of mutual love.
“I love you Stella,” says Stacy, crying
and still scared, “please believe me, I’m sorry.”
“Just don’t ever leave me Stacy, I need
you.” Says Stella softly and passionately, crying, smiling, as she closes her
eyes and kisses Stacy slowly and lovingly, who returns the favor timidly,
largely out of confusion. She relinquishes her deviance in favor of stroking
the face of her love as she still embraces Stacy tightly.
Stacy inches her head away from her
sister “Don’t wipe the blood on my face.” She says a bit taken a back
“Holy shit, did I hurt you? I’m so
sorry.” Says Stella, startled by reality, genuinely concerned,
“No, it’s fine. It’s a trivial amount
of blood loss.” Says Stacy, Stella sucks her fingers clean and licks the blood
off Stacy’s face
“All better.” Says Stella cutely as she
smiles
“Thanks.” Says Stacy, sincerely, subtly
taken aback
“Love me forever, Stacy.” Says Stella,
as she lays on top of Stacy and holds her lovingly, Stacy’s reciprocation
inducing the euphoria of somewhat mutual love inside of Stella
“Ok.” Says Stacy, shocked by the events
and unsure of what to do or say, she remains bewildered by her sister, but any
reproach that crosses her mind is overpowered by deep concern and platonic
love. Stacy wraps her good arm around her Stella who warmly kisses her happily.
Stacy accepts this as her fate and greets Stella with mild confused passion out
of her own compassion. Stacy’s heartrate slows down and her fear subsides as
the feeling of relief fills her body when she sees Stella smile genuinely
rather than express the cavalcade of insanity that had roused her from her
slumber. Stacy pulls Stella to her side with her good arm who cuddles her
lovingly. Stacy allows her pain and fear new and old to lull her to sleep,
seduced by the sensual escape of unconsciousness, as Stella falls asleep in her
arm.
The blood red evening sun drips onto
the girls as it slips below the horizon, Stella kisses Stacy softly on the lips
as she sleeps, startling her eyes open
“You hungry?” asks Stella, smiling
lovingly
“Yeah.” Says Stacy in exhausted
confusion
“I’ll go fix something. I’ll get you
when it’s ready.” Says Stella, happily
“Thanks.” Says Stacy, half dead after
the events of the last 24 hours as Stella gets up and merrily heads to the
kitchen
“Jesus Christ.” Whispers Stacy to
herself after he sister leaves the room, Stacy stares at the celling in awe
with a cold dead gaze distancing herself from what just happened
“Stacy, come eat.” Says Stella
cheerfully as she reenters the room
“Coming.”
Says Stacy, slowly sitting up
“I hope you’re not upset with me, I
kind of lost it right there.” Says Stella, remorseless but a bit embarrassed
“Don’t worry about it. As long as
you’re feeling better, I’ll be fine.” Says Stacy
“Are you sure?” asks Stella
“Yeah. You tore my guts up a bit, but
I’m more concerned about you right now.” Says Stacy
“I’m feeling better; just try not to
scare me like that. I lose my mind when you make me think about that kind of
stuff.” Says Stella
“Sorry about that. I’ve got to do
better. I don’t know what you wanted to accomplish, but you gave it a good
effort, whatever it was.” Says Stacy
“I just want you to love me enough not
to die, Stacy. I thought that might do something to make you love me, but I
guess it didn’t do much.” says Stella, in ashamed optimism
“Oh it did. Don’t worry about that.”
Says Stacy, distantly sincere
“Really?” asks Stella
“If that’s what it takes to convince
you that I love you, so be it. I might say stupid things sometimes, but I
really do love you. I don’t want you to be upset like that.” Says Stacy
“It’s just that you really seemed not
to care at all about me. That’s why I got so crazy and desperate. It felt like
I had to do something to change you or I would lose you forever.” Says Stella
“I love you Stella, more than anything,
don’t forget that.” Says Stacy, coldly and distantly
“You make it easy to forget that
sometimes.” Says Stella
“Just ask me and I’ll remind you,
that’s all it takes.” Says Stacy
“Will you remind me right now?” says
Stella, walking over to Stacy
“Sure. I really do love you Stella.”
Says Stacy, cold and defensive
“How do I know you’re not just saying that?”
Says Stella, worried by Stacy’s tone
“I don’t know. Trust me.” Says Stacy,
looking away
“Maybe you could really remind me.”
Says Stella, pushing Stacy onto her back and crawling on top of her
“Come on, Stella.” Pleads Stacy, upset
“You know your words have never been
able to convince me.” says Stella, staring into Stacy’s eyes seriously
“Why are you acting like this?” asks
Stacy
“Because I’m scared Stacy, I want to
believe you, but you have to remind me.” Says Stella who starts to kiss Stacy
softly, Stacy grabs her Stella’s head with her good arm and uses the fear and
adrenaline induced by Stella’s imposition as synthetic passion to which Stella
responds warmly, fondling Stacy’s bare breast while supporting herself with her
other arm. Stella enjoys this for a tasteful while before her vampiric thirst
for love is finally satisfied.
“I believe you. Just be sure to remind
me every now and again so I don’t forget. You know how easy it is for me to get
worried like that.” Says Stella, quite pleased
“I’m glad I could convince you. You had
me worried for a second.” Says Stacy, worriedly pleased
“You’re pretty good at convincing.”
Says Stella, playfully
“Thanks. I’m flying blind, but
thankfully it’s working.” Says Stacy
“Put some pants on and get some supper,
wouldn’t want it to get cold.” Says Stella
“I’ll be right there. What is it?” asks
Stacy
“Lentils, chickpeas, and vegetables.”
Says Stella
“Thank god. I could really go for
something hearty.” Says Stacy, the thought of food cleansing her mind
“I aim to please.” Says Stella cutely
“I hope I can do enough to return the
favor.” Says Stacy, heroically nervous
“Just keep me happy, ok?” asks Stella
“That’s all I want to do.” Says Stacy,
serious, amazed,
“Thanks.” Says Stella who kisses Stacy
softly before getting off of her and finding her some shorts
“Maybe not so rough on the loins next
time, I’ve got to be able to walk tomorrow.” Says Stacy
“I’m sorry. Is it that bad?” asks
Stella, playfully
“Nah. Just a bit sore. Caught me off
guard was all.” Says Stacy, getting dressed
“Maybe try to be on guard next time.”
Says Stella with a smirk
“I’ll try.” Says Stacy, confused, acquiescent
in solicitous perturbation
“Good.” Says Stella, playfully as they
go downstairs, sit down greeted by a prepared table and meal, and begin to eat
“God damn it, I love you Stella. This
is heavenly. Why didn’t you just cook me something to eat if you wanted me to
love you?” asks Stacy
“I do that all the time, you tend to
forget that pretty quickly.” Says Stella
“Just remind me to be grateful, Jesus.
I needed this. Thank you.” Says Stacy, eating healthily
“I’m glad you like it. I really want
you to love me for more than just my food though; I want you to love me when
there’s not food in front of you.” Says Stella
“I do, I really do. Don’t forget that.”
Says Stacy
“Just make sure to remind me
sometimes.” Says Stella
“I’m sure it might slip my mind sometimes, but
I appreciate everything you do for me.” Says
“I don’t want it to ever slip your
mind, if that happens just for a second I might lose you forever.” Says Stella
“Don’t worry, whatever I’m doing I’ll be
thinking of you. You make my life worth living to be honest.” Says Stacy
“I’ll try to keep doing that then.”
Says Stella, playfully
“I’m just talking about the normal
stuff.” Says Stacy, taken a back
“I just need some insurance on top of
that is all, clearly the normal stuff wasn’t enough and that scares me.” Says
Stella
“I can understand. I’m sorry for being
an ingrate sometimes. I’ve got to do better.” Says Stacy
“I’ve just got to give you more to be
grateful for, it’s partially my fault. If I can’t keep you happy enough to want
to stay alive, I’m doing something wrong.” Says Stella
“Just blame it on me; I was the one who
felt like shit today because of my antics.” Says Stacy
“It doesn’t matter who’s to blame, I
can’t have you feeling like that no matter who causes it.” Says Stella
“I can’t have you feeling the way you
did today on account of me feeling like that either, so we’ve got a common
goal.” Says Stacy
“Let’s just work together on that sort
of thing, hopefully we can resolve those sorts of issues together.” Says Stacy
“I’m all for it. I’m not the expert on
emotions and sentiments, but I’ll try to figure something out.” Says Stacy
“You help me, I’ll help you, and that
helps me.” Says Stella
“I feel bad about being the source of
all of your problems.” Says Stacy
“You could easily be the solution to
all of my problems too.” Says Stella
“That’s putting a lot of faith in me.”
Says Stacy
“It’s really not; you just have to
treat me right.” Says Stella
“You realize I have a very corrupt view
of the word right, right?” asks Stacy
“That’s true, but just treat me how you
know I want to be treated. Remind me that you really, truly care about me and
that you love me and I’ll feel a lot better, also doing less crazy stuff will
help a lot.” Says Stella
“I’ll do my best; let’s just hope
that’s good enough.” Says Stacy
“I’ll help you. I know you’re not the
best at either of those things.” Says Stella
“I’d appreciate it. At least you’re
willing to acknowledge my weaknesses even if I’m reluctant to do so.” Says
Stacy
“It’s my job, I’m your sister after
all.” says Stella
“You’re damn good at your job, to be
honest. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope you never have to find out.
I couldn’t live without you either.” Says Stella
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”
Says Stacy
“You better not.” Says Stella
“Well, actually I’m going upstairs; I
don’t want to fall asleep at the table. I’m beat. Dinner was amazing. Thanks
again.” Says Stacy
“I’ll clean up and wash the dishes.
Thanks for listening to me for once.” Says Stella
“I’ll return the favor when my arm’s
working again. I’m all ears now; you can trust me on that.” Says Stacy
“I can listen to your problems too.”
Says Stella, cleaning up
“I can’t really talk out my problems,
so I’ll just try to save you from the trauma of hearing about them.” Says Stacy
“Don’t do that. I need to learn to
handle your problems a bit better than I have been doing.” Says Stella
“I’m not going to put that pressure on
your right now, we can ease into it. I don’t want you to snap again.” Says
Stacy
“Sorry about that, maybe it’s for the
best.” Says Stella
“I just don’t want to hurt you, I can’t
really hide my life from you, but I can at least not worry you with my stupid
babbling.” Says Stacy
“It’s good to talk about how you feel,
even if you feel bad. You can’t keep that pent up inside of you or you might
act on it spontaneously, and that’s the worst possible situation.” Says Stella
“I thought I was all bark and no bite,
I’m sure that should comfort you a bit.” Says Stacy
“I know better than to think that now.
Not after everything you’ve done lately.” Says Stella
“It’s like god was upset with me and is
forcing me to put my money where my mouth is.” Says Stacy
“There’s not enough money in the world
to pay for everything that comes out of that mouth, unfortunately for you.”
Says Stella
“Let’s just hope technological
advancements lower the price of my words to the point where they can actually
be afforded one day.” Says Stacy
“I like the optimism.” Says Stella
“If we are damned to live and die under
tyranny, I feel a tyrant I must be.” Says Stacy
“I’d much rather you be a tyrant than a
martyr.” Says Stella
“You can’t really support my ideals of
dehumanizing amoral tyranny, can you? What happened to caring about people?”
asks Stacy
“I don’t support them, but you mean
more to me than any other person, that’s why I’d rather have you living
regardless of the results.” Says Stella
“Let’s hope you still feel that way
when the people cry out in agony as the whip of dehumanizing bestial slavery
and masochistic industrial nationalism cracks over head of people reduced to
being replaceable parts and breeding stock.” Says Stacy
“I will.” Says Stella, smiling
sincerely
“I’d love you back even more.” Says
Stacy
“Good. That’s all I really want.” Says
Stella
“At least somebody will be happy in the
end of it all.” Says Stacy
“You wouldn’t be happy if all of your
crazy dreams came true?” asks Stella
“It would just be the relentless life
of a humble farmer driving his oxen, sun up to sun down, every day. Thankless
labor, but rearing sweet fruits from dirt and ashes would make my life feel
worthwhile at the end of the day.” Says Stacy
“That’s a kind of happiness.” Says
Stella
“It is satisfaction, happiness is
something else. I don’t have much interest in happiness, just one more thing to
cut down in the name of Stoicism.” Says Stacy
“You can’t think that even happiness is
bad.” Says Stella
“As long as it doesn’t impair my
function or induce the behaviors of an addict, it can be a pleasant nothing
that passes me by occasionally, but the second you start to seek happiness is
the second you forsake greater and more meaningful responsibilities in the name
of hedonism.” Says Stacy
“Hopefully you can at least enjoy those
pleasant nothings that pass you by.” Says Stella
“Of course, I’m not so much of an
ingrate as to spit in the face of a smile. I just view such things as luxury
rather than some definitive aspect of life.” Says Stacy
“The race of man would be little more
than a machine without his taste for superfluity.” Says Stella
“Machines work harder and are more cost
effective, they wouldn’t be built if they weren’t. That sort of mentality would
be the natural evolution of mankind if he were capable of such. I’d rather have
a machine than a vice-fueled hedonist. A machine has never killed itself through
substance abuse and it will only die of work death, that’s my kind of human.”
Says Stacy
“If that’s your kind of human, why
don’t you like to do your homework?” asks Stella
“I’ve been tasked with building the machine,
not fighting the social-industrial revolution with Ludditry.” Says Stacy
“Who put you up to that again?” asks
Stella
“It’s a matter of perspective, but
fate, god, luck, anything that determines the happenstance of the flavor of my
own cognition.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope fate, god, and luck are all
on your side.” Says Stella
“Fate, god, and luck are all manmade
things, so all I’ve got to do is spend some time slaving away at the hobby-shop
and their allegiance is a given.” Says Stacy
“Maybe you can do that after you do
some homework, ok?” asks Stella
“I’ll take a quick nap to rejuvenate
myself, and I’m sure I’ll manhandle the homework like none other.” Says Stacy
“That’s probably the most
megalomaniacal thing you’ve said at dinner.” Says Stella
“What can I say; I’m a sick little
girl. Those fantasies of omnipotent capability send euphoria coursing through
my blood. I’ll downgrade the manhandling to a struggling, that sound fair?”
asks Stacy
“I’m sure you know how to do it.” Says
Stella
“That’s true, but even the idle arm
palpably accommodates and expedites the process of writing my carbon copy of
the contemporary Torah known as schoolwork.” Says Stacy, as the sisters get up
from the table and go upstairs
“Just try.” Says Stella
“Nap first. Questions later.” Says
Stacy as they enter the room, Stacy lays down on her bed satisfied from the
meal
“You mind if I lay down with you for a
while?” asks Stella
“Climb aboard.” Says Stacy, as Stella
gets in bed beside her and cuddles her
“Thanks.” Says Stella
“Whoever named this a twin bed really
underestimated the size of twins.” Says Stacy
“I think it’s the right size, there’s
not enough room for you to escape my cuddles.” Says Stella
“That’s one way to think about it.”
Says Stacy, holding Stella amiably with her good arm
“I love you so much, Stacy. I want to
hold you like this forever. I never want you to leave me.” Says Stella,
nuzzling Stacy’s breast
“I’m not going anywhere. Just don’t
punish me again; I’ll be a good girl. I promise.” Says Stacy
“You were supposed to like it.” Says
Stella
“I did not get that impression at all.
You like that sort of thing?” Says Stacy
“I was kind of rough, but you don’t
touch yourself at all?” asks Stella
“Not in particular. I find genitals to
be rather off-putting.” Says Stacy
“Really? Why?” asks Stella
“Too many reasons, they remind me that
I am just another beast with genitals identical to any other commonplace
insignificant mammal; reminding me of hedonists, vice and disease; and worst is
the thought of people willingly discharging one or more planet destroying
vice-ridden sentient cancers from their bodies. Shame has kept many people from
falling victim to such temptation in the past; it shouldn’t be much of a
surprise to be honest. Even thinking about my genitals in that way stimulates
nothing but disgust and shame. We are but cognizant excreta after all.” Says
Stacy
“That’s kind of sad.” Says Stella
“I don’t know, I think it’s reasonable
to see them as nothing but exhaust pipes from living, excreting waste products,
human life included.” Says Stacy
“That’s not normal at all, really.”
Says Stella
“I’m not all that normal to be honest.”
Says Stacy
“I want to help you with that.” Says
Stella
“Don’t worry about it; if it ain’t
broke don’t fix it.” Says Stacy
“This part of you seems a little
broken.” Says Stella, reaching her hand down Stacy’s panties and stroking her
softly
“Goodness, Stella, not this again.
Don’t hurt me like that again.” Says Stacy, tense, concerned
“I’ll be gentle. You know you’re
supposed to like it.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy’s chest
“I’m still sore from last time; I’ve
also still got those unpleasant thoughts running through my head.” Says Stacy
“Just think about me, think about how
much I love you. There’s not any vice or disease or human life coming out of my
hand right now.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy’s neck
“That’s comforting, but it’s still a
bit unsettling.” Says Stacy, awkwardly embarrassed
“Just relax. You should like that I
want to please you.” Says Stella
“What was wrong with the kissing?” asks
Stacy
“Nothing was wrong with that.” Says
Stella, sliding up Stacy’s body and kissing her lips tenderly
“Well then. You’ve got me to the point
of ambivalence, but it’s hard for me to let go of my sentiments.” Says Stacy
“Just forget about the bad parts, and
enjoy the good parts.” Says Stella, still stroking softly
“I’ll give it to you; it’s not bad like
this. I don’t trust myself to do it; it might turn into some hedonist conquest
that results in a handful of children and a basket of diseases.” Says Stacy
“Just trust me to do it then. I’m glad
you’re starting to like it.” Says Stella, smiling as she kisses Stacy softly
again
“You sure do take a lot of things upon yourself;
I really didn’t expect you to want to address my sexual dysfunction.” Says
Stacy
“I didn’t know you even had that
problem.” Says Stella
“I like to think of it as a solution to
problems more than anything.” Says Stacy
“This isn’t a problem, is it?” asks
Stella
“No, just keep it tame and I’ll be all
right, my guts are kind of jumping a bit out of fear from the last time when
you played the fiddle a certain way.” Says Stacy
“Just relax.” Says Stella
“I’m just sore is all, maybe some other
time I’ll be more physically capable of enjoying it. You really did a number on
me.” Says Stacy
“How about this, then.” Says Stella as
she reaches under Stacy’s shirt and starts to fondle her breast and kiss her
neck
“That’s fine and dandy. Mammary glands
are rather harmless, feeding the hungry and what not.” Says Stacy
“That’s good.” Says Stella, kissing
Stacy deeply and lovingly, Stacy indifferently returns the favor as a courtesy
“You really like this sort of thing?”
asks Stacy as Stella’s mouth wanders off to kiss Stacy’s neck
“I like it when you’re this sort of
thing.” Says Stella
“If it suits your fancy, have at it,
I’m not doing anything with my body. Knock yourself out. Not too much, though.”
Says Stacy
“You don’t want to enjoy my body,
Stacy?” asks Stella
“Enjoying the human body seems like a
paradoxical thing to me. If I don’t enjoy my body I don’t see why I would enjoy
yours.” Says Stacy
“We are different people you know.”
Says Stella
“We are physically identical for the
most part. The general anatomy of the human body floods my body with cold
misanthropy.” Says Stacy
“I’m not just some normal person Stacy;
you can abandon your mantras for a moment to enjoy the company of somebody you
love.” Says Stella
“I’ve just had a lot of this sort of
stuff today, maybe some other time.” Says Stacy
“I’ll get you to warm up eventually.”
Says Stella, as she softly kisses Stacy on her lips and goes back to cuddling
“Yeah, this whole sort of mentality is
quite foreign to me. A bit of a culture shock to be honest.” Says Stacy
“You’re so weird. It’s cute though.”
Says Stella
“This part is nice, you’re warm and
soft. I think everybody likes to hold something warm and soft. I’d be hard
pressed to find somebody who hates blankets.” Says Stacy
“I want to be more than a blanket,
Stacy.” Says Stella
“You are a lot more than that, the
other parts I’ve just got to get accustomed to. I’m plenty used to blankets and
I guess that’s why I take to this part more easily.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you can accept this, even if
you’re not that into it.” Says Stella
“If you like it, I like it. I don’t
mind you doing stuff like this; this is way tamer than last time.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you like it.” Says Stella
“Your body is like warm milk, putting
me to sleep.” Says Stacy, yawning
“You deserve some sleep after what
you’ve been through.” Says Stella
“I’ll be headed off on my crusade into
the holy land of dreams then.” Says Stacy
“I’ll be here when you wake up.” Says
Stella
“Wonderful.” Says Stacy as she easily
falls asleep, Stella enjoys the body of her companion for a while before being
slowly swept away into the ocean of slumber by the warm undertow of love and
comfort
“Stacy, I know you don’t want to hear
this, but it’s time to wake up.” Says Stella as she nuzzles Stacy’s cheek,
herself unwilling to relax their mutual embrace but too responsible not to do
so
“I believe you are mistaken.” Says Stacy
“I just want to lay here with you too,
but you’ve got work to do.” Says Stella, futilely nuzzling Stacy even more
attempting to wake her
“Damn it. Where’ is the snooze button
on Stella.” Says Stacy, patting around Stella’s back
“I’m not sure there is one.” Says
Stella, Stacy squeezes Stella’s ass indignantly
“Not quite.” Says Stella, Stacy wraps
her hand back around Stella and places it onto breast and begins to squeeze
that
“Almost.” Says Stella, Stacy moves her
hand down Stellas shorts and begins to stroke her softly
“That might do the trick.” Says Stella,
as she wraps her arm around Stacy’s head and pulls it to face her starts
kissing it, Stacy welcomes the affection and returns it with interest, Stella
begins to passionately taste the accommodation of her desires, Stacy happy to
taste the fantasy of a few more winks of restful sleep for the healthy while
that Stella allows her to
“I’m glad you changed your mind about
my body.” Says Stella, feeling loved
“It’s just so tempting.” Says Stacy
“You need a bath too, I like the way
you smell but other people might prefer a clean Stacy.” Says Stella
“My snooze button stopped working?”
asks Stacy
“I wish we could do this forever, but
we have responsibilities.” Says Stella
“Damn it.” Says Stacy
“Don’t make me carry you over to your
desk. I don’t want you to get in trouble for blowing off your homework.” Says
Stella
“I’ll just half ass it really quick. Go
take your bath; I’ll be done by the time you get out.” Says Stacy
“Thanks.” Says Stella, getting up, her
sister ambles over to her desk and pulls out some homework from her bag, Stella
prepares for her bath and exits
The barbaric hands of the decorative
analogue clock mercilessly and thoroughly brutalize the seconds that pass, the
thin hand breaking countless small bones in time’s skeleton that crack from the
mechanical torture while the thick hands apply the pressure of a pneumatic
press on the skull of the dying god, pressure that slowly turns his cranium to
sand as he chokes and coughs up his blood of happenstance while the marrow of
circumstance seeps from his bone structure. Stacy trots through the tedium,
empathetic to time’s blood loss yet indifferent their mutual torture by the
hands of fate in today’s flavor of existence. Stella returns.
“Your turn, you might want to warm the
water back up.” Says Stella, as she sits on her bed
“You took your time didn’t you?” asks
Stacy
“I’ve got to enjoy the simple pleasures
when I can.” Says Stella
“You took so long I’m suspicious, I’m
doubting the culprit of that pleasure was the bath and have started to suspect
your own hand in the matter.” Says Stacy
“I like that you’re thinking of me like
that, but I regret to inform you that I was only bathing.” Says Stella
“I could have taken 4 baths in that
time.” Says Stacy
“Splashing water on yourself for 30
seconds doesn’t actually qualify as a bath.” Says Stella
“I beg to differ.” Says Stacy
“You want me to watch you and make sure
you actually clean yourself this time?” asks Stella
“I’ll be fine.” Says Stacy
“I see you’ve made some progress on
your homework, I’m glad you didn’t just go back to sleep.” Says Stella
“Yeah, for some reason the pain isn’t
getting in the way much at all. Hell, I’m even familiar with the subjects at
hand for some reason.” Says Stacy
“It’s probably just your megalomania
just reassuring you of any answer you drum up.” Says Stella
“I think it’s my magic, but that’s
rather unsettling to be honest.” Says Stacy
“Why?” asks Stella
“Well, if it’s my magic that means doing
my homework is somehow ‘doing good and fighting evil’… “ says Stacy, air
quoting with her one hand “ which likely means that instead of going to
detention for a few days I’m going end up heeding the call of civil service on
one of them.” Says Stacy
“You don’t know what you’re going to
do?” asks Stella
“I’ve got something in mind.” Says
Stacy
“Nothing too crazy this time, please
don’t get hurt again.” Says Stella
“I won’t. Don’t worry.” Says Stacy
“You realize saying don’t worry makes
me worry, right?” ask Stella
“I can’t think of any more anxiolytic
words to say, just trust me that there’s nothing to worry about.” Says Stacy
“You’re making me relapse into brutal
incredulity again, but it is what it is.” Says Stella
“That’s the healthiest response right
now; none of the four of us can ever acknowledge our fate in the presence of
others, so it’s best to mainline as much incredulity as possible.” Says Stella
“I guess I’ll just ramp up the dosage,
addiction is one of the sad repercussions of patient controlled analgesia, you
know?” Says Stella
“It’s more preferable than dying from
shock because of the pain. Just let the sweet dragon take you away to the land
of smiles where we sing and dance in the meadows with the animals and the
sunshine loves us.” Says Stacy
“You seem to be quite familiar with
that place.” Says Stella
“You don’t develop an unrelenting god
complex without a healthy level of incredulity.” Says Stacy
“I see your point. Don’t think you can
talk your way out of the bath. I see you’re not doing any homework, your just
pretending at this point.” Says Stella
“I’m just thinking about this one
problem.” Says Stacy
“Let me see.” Says Stella as she walks
over “You’ve already done the problem, it’s correct I think.”
“I’m just going to think about it for a
while. Really take it in.” says Stacy, Stella hugs her over her shoulders and
smells her neck deeply
“I’m going to miss the way you smell.”
Says Stella
“I wouldn’t rob you of that.” Says
Stacy
“My self-respect would, sadly. Please,
bathe.” Says Stella
“Give and take is important you know.”
Says Stacy
“If I let this one go, then it becomes
a bad habit and soon you’re filthy every day and nobody wants that.” Says
Stella
“I kind of want that.” Says Stacy
“Why?” asks Stella
“It would let people know my opinion
towards the trifling pleasantries people concern themselves with for some
reason.” Says Stacy
“You would rather greet people with
unpleasantries?” asks Stella
“You just told me you liked the way I
smell.” Says Stacy
“It’s raw and dirty like a savage, it’s
powerful, but I don’t think that’s the message you want to convey at school.”
Says Stella
“That’s exactly the message I want to
convey at school.” Says Stacy
“Most people wouldn’t be able to
appreciate it; they would just think you smell funny.” Says Stella
“To hell with most people, I don’t give
a damn about them.” Says Stacy
“Unfortunately for you, I actually do,
so please be civil and bathe.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy’s cheek
“Fine. Just because I’m nice and want
to make you happy.” Says Stacy, getting up
“Thanks, love.” Says Stella, Stacy
grumbles and exits
Stacy halfassedly washes as exhaustion
fuels the indifference that burns away what little indignation she could
muster. Stacy returns, Stella reads a book on her bed.
“All clean. Just for you Stella.” Says
Stacy
“I told you to bathe and your hair
isn’t even wet.” Says Stella
“I’ve got to keep the hole in my arm
from getting wet, it was in my own best interest. The rest of me is clean
though.” Says Stacy, as she lays down on her bed
“That will have to do for now. At least
you’ve got clean clothes on. I’m would be upset that I’ve got to wash more of
your shirts since you only want to wear school shirts to sleep now, but for
some reason I’m not.” Says Stella, smirking
“I’m restricted to button downs for
now, you know I wouldn’t want to wear them if I didn’t have to.” Says Stacy
“They’re button downs, not
button-once’s.” jokes Stella
“It was in a downward direction. Don’t
worry about it.” Says Stacy
“You sure you don’t want me to get a
nightgown for you?” asks Stella
“I’ll be fine. Just more work to get
dressed in the morning.” Says Stacy
“Suit yourself. You did brush your
teeth, right?” Says Stella
“Of course. My teeth are my most valuable
asset. I actually care about eating as opposed to the opinions of others.” Says
Stacy
“I’m glad you have some priorities that
are in your best interest.” Says Stella
“It’s sad that plenty of girls seem to
have those priorities reversed.” Says Stacy
“Society puts a lot of pressure on women;
sometimes they crack under the pressure and get sick.” Says Stella
“I’m glad I’m not a woman.” Says Stacy
“What are you if you’re not a woman,
still a girl?” asks Stella
“I’m an animal, a monster, and god on a
good day. I’ve got no interest in being a woman.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure a woman is all three
of those things, so you might not be giving yourself enough credit.” Says
Stella
“They may well be all three of them,
but they’re also a woman on top of that. I’m not going to burden myself with
petty nonsense in exchange for social validation. A god complex gives a person
all the validation they can possibly ask for.” Says Stacy
“Unfortunately some women don’t have it
that easy. Try not to look down upon people because your head is stuck in the
clouds.” Says Stella
“Those are people? They all look like
ants from up here.” Says Stacy
“That’s cute.” Says Stella
“I’m glad at least somebody thinks it’s
cute when my eyes roll back in my head and I start growling in tongues and convulsing
slightly as I’m weighing out the sins of the damnable and devising appropriate
punishments for each and every one of them.” Says Stacy
“You’re so weird.” Says Stella
“If you wanted normal I can repeat the
same sentence and replace the being god part with being consumed by social
anxiety.” Says Stacy
“Stay weird. I know too many girls like
that already.” Says Stella
“Thanks. I’m about to slip into the
world where things make even less sense than this one. I don’t mind if you read
for a while, I can sleep through anything at this point.”
“Night night.” Says Stella
“Until the morrow.” Says Stacy
sleepily, Stella reads for a wonderful while before turning out the light and
slipping off into her own irrational reality bound to sensibility only by one’s
subliminal grasp on one’s native reality.
The sun drags its crippled and bloodied
body slowly through the gates of heaven screaming deliriously, it’s mind
shattered by the endless torture endeared upon it by the many hells and
kingdoms of the darkness that it had been damned to trek through for boldly
ascending to the zenith of the heavens and eclipsing even the gods on the
previous day. It’s nearly lifeless body begins to float as the compassionate
blue blood of the divine sympathets of the sky course through them inducing
euphoric empathy for the endlessly suffering golden, glowing, and blazing beast
that is damned to warm both the heavens and the countless hells. The alarm
clock rings and Stella gets out of bed.
“Silence that electric demon.” Commands
Stacy indignantly
“There’s a reason it’s not on the
bedside table anymore.” Says Stella, starting to dress for school
“Damn it. You’ll just let me writhe in
agony like this?” asks Stacy
“Get up and turn it off yourself, if I
do it you will go back to sleep.” Says Stella
“That’s the point.” Says Stacy
“It’s Monday, Stacy. We’ve got school.”
Says Stella, Stacy gets up and angrily turns off the alarm clock
“I’m really feeling the sick day
today.” Says Stacy, as she lies back down on her bed
“You really want to go get a doctor’s
note?” asks Stella
“Fuck me. Why is life so brutal?” Says
Stacy
“Life’s a bitch. Deal with it. I’m
about to set the alarm clock for one minute from now.” Says Stella
Stacy groans “Fuck me.” Says Stacy,
Stella climbs on top of Stacy
“It would be my pleasure.” Says Stella,
smirking playfully
“God damn it. I’m getting up. Get off
of me.” Says Stacy, Stella kisses her softly on the lips
“You’re such a tease.” Stella playfully,
Stella pats her on the side
“Sorry to let you down. I’ve got a lot
on my agenda and nothing on my plate, so I’m not quite up to the task, any task
for that matter.” Says Stacy
“I can fix that. I’m glad I know how to
put you in the mood.” Says Stella
“Jesus, it’s 7 in the morning. What’s
wrong with you?” asks Stacy
“You shouldn’t have whet my appetite
like that last night if you didn’t want me to be hungry.” Says Stella, kissing
her again
“I am hungry, you are something else.”
Says Stacy, entirely disinterested in Stella’s pursuits
“If you can satisfy my hunger, I’m sure
I can return the favor.” Says Stella
“What is it you are hungry for
exactly?” asks Stacy
“You, Stacy. Love. The feeling that you
care about me. It’s like heroin to be honest.” Says Stella
“That’s not good. You sure you want it
from me? I’m sure it’s not the best quality.” Says Stacy
“I need my fix Stacy, I’m an addict,
just like you and your ego and dad and his alcohol. I’m addicted to you Stacy.
I need you.” Says Stella
“It’s too early for this. Jesus.” Says
Stacy
“Just give me a taste so I can get
through the day.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy again, Stacy returns the
affection, aggressively forcing her tongue into Stella’s mouth with fervor
driven by the pangs of hunger, searching for something to satiate the pain.
Stella gladly competes with the passion for her own reasons, fondling Stacy’s
breast and groping her ass affectionately. Stacy’s hunger refuses to let her
relax her assault, only Stella’s satisfaction is finally able to bring an end
to the codependence.
“Thank you, Stacy.” Says Stella,
enamored as she embraces Stacy, reluctant to get off of her
“Any time, just don’t forget about
breakfast.” Says Stacy
“I’ll fix something.” Says Stella
“Thank you. Oh, would you look at the
time. It’s breakfast time already.” Says Stacy, patting Stella’s ass
expectantly
“I thought you didn’t want to get out
of bed.” Says Stella nuzzling Stacy lovingly
“I do when there’s something to eat.
Jesus, my stomach hurts more than my arm right now.” Says Stacy
“That’s no good. I’ll fix you
something. Get dressed, ok?” Says Stella
“Unfortunately I can’t put a bra on one
handed, so you’ve inherited nurse duty.” Says Stacy, a bit embarrassed by her
incapability
“I’d be happy to help.” Says Stella
“Just throw one over here. I can put it
on; you’ve just got to hook the straps for me.” Says Stacy, unbuttoning her
shirt and taking it off, Stella brings her a bra and puts it on her
“Thanks, love. Now how about that
breakfast.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure you can’t button a
shirt either.” Says Stella
“Good point. You’ve got your wits about
you. Take it away.” says Stacy, threading her limp arm through the sleeve
before wrestling her good arm through the other sleeve
“I’ll just do the whole thing. I want
you to look nice.” Says Stella
“Have at it. I appreciate the help.”
Says Stacy, Stella gets skirt and stockings together and enjoys herself as she
dresses Stacy before finally putting the shoes on Stacy’s feet
“Hopefully I’ll be a bit more capable
tomorrow. I could have done it, but I didn’t see any point in making aches for
no reason. I figured you would enjoy it anyways.” Says Stacy
“How courteous of you.” Says Stella,
cutely
“I try to tend to my manners when I
can.” Says Stacy
“I’ll start on some breakfast. Eggs and
toast is fine?” asks Stella
“A hot meal would do wonders for me
right now.” Says Stacy
“Excellent.” Says Stella as she goes
downstairs, her sister follows her
Stella begins to cook; Stacy sits at
the table fatigued. Dale sleeps.
“Try and be normal in front of other
people, if you want to be weird around me I don’t really care, but I’m sure
both of us have an image to maintain.” Says Stacy
“You’re lucky you get to see a better
side of me than most people.” Says Stella
“I’ve seen a lot of your sides, and do
appreciate your better ones. The pleased Stella is a lot better than the upset
Stella. That’s for sure.”” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you enjoy keeping me happy.”
Says Stella
“If it’s no skin off my back I don’t
mind. It’s the least I can do, considering what I put you through and
everything. Just try to keep the skin on my back.” Says Stacy
“As much as I want you to make me dig
my claws into it, you might not be as tempted to do so.” Says Stella
“I’ll pass on that one.” Says Stacy
“For now. You might just warm up to the
idea, you never know.” Says Stella
“Warm is not a word I would use to
describe myself, but who knows.” Says Stacy
“You’re a little warm.” Says Stella
“Lukewarm would be flattery.” Says
Stacy
“So cold. You’ve got to let that façade
go every now and again.” teases Stella
“I’d rattle on about the mental necrosis
that plagues me, but I’m not trying to spook you.” Says Stacy
“I think I can heal some of that.” Says
Stella
“You fancy yourself Jesus all of a
sudden?” asks Stacy
“You’re the one who does that.” Says
Stella
“Yet even I cannot cure this blight.”
Says Stacy
“You’re just so defensive, I know you
don’t want to get hurt, but you should know I would never hurt you like that.”
Says Stella
“I’ll do my best to return the favor.”
Says Stacy
“You better.” Says Stella, serving
Stacy the food
“I love you too much to not try my
best. I’ve seen what happens when I don’t and it’s not pretty.” Says Stacy
“Finally thinking about the other
people in your life for once?” asks Stella, pouring Stacy some milk
“Not really, just you. The girls tend
to fend for themselves and the others are largely self-serving puppets of
Babylon. You’re the only one I’m concerned about.” Says Stacy
“I appreciate your undivided
attention.” Says Stella, sitting down to eat
“I’d call it triage, but that might
seem insensitive.” Says Stacy
“I like to think you’re tending to my
wounds.” Says Stella
“Good. I need you to be healthy as a
horse, the good ship can’t sail if the captain is starving.” Says Stacy
“Of course it’s not out of compassion.”
Says Stella, frowning
“There’s plenty of that, come on. It’s
just that I can’t feel any compassion if my organs are failing from nutritional
deficiency.” Says Stacy
“I’ll give you that. I’m happy to be of
service. I understand you’ve got quite the job to do.” Says Stella
“I’ve got a handful of jobs and
responsibilities, and you’re the most important one after staying alive.” Says
Stacy
“It means a lot to me, you don’t know
how much it hurts to feel neglected.” Says Stella
“I think we’ve been neglected for most
of our lives, have we not?” asks Stacy
“Neglected by everyone but each other,
and when the only person that fails to do so starts to neglect you it’s like
the end of the world.” Says Stella
“I’m sorry about that, my own ego gets
in the way of common sense. You tend to me to no end and I was foolish enough to
forget that. Never again, Stella, I am sorry for that.” Says Stacy
“You live and you learn, I’m glad you
actually understand these things a little bit.” Says Stella
“I’m working on it. I’m usually so
drunk on delusion and ego that it’s hard for me to learn, but you tend to sober
me up real quick. I like that.” Says Stacy
“I’d hate to see you become consumed by
those things. You’ve got to keep your feet on the ground even if your head is
in the sky.” Says Stella
“You seem to be the only one willing to
hold them down for me, I appreciate that.” Says Stacy
“Wouldn’t want you to float away now,
would we?” asks Stella
“I’m sure it’s for the best, but god
damn it if it doesn’t feel like heaven in the clouds.” Says Stacy
“You realize when you’re blind to
what’s on the ground; something is going to come along a break your legs one
day.” Says Stella
“I try to keep one eye on the threats
to my existence, the other one on the future.” Says Stacy
“That’s wise enough. There are plenty
of threats to your existence, though; it might take more than one eye.” Says
Stella
“I can take my eyes off the clouds when
I need to, don’t worry about that.” Says Stacy
“Just remember the ground hurts a lot
when you fall back down to earth.” Says Stella
“You would be foolish enough to think I
won’t hurt the ground when I fall down to earth.” Says Stacy
“I’d love to see that.” Says Stella
“Revelations is in the bible for a
reason.” Says Stacy
“Jesus, Stacy. That’s enough of that.
I’ll wash up, you get ready for school.” Says Stella, as she starts to clean
“What’s wrong with having a little faith?” asks Stacy
“That’s an exorbitant amount of faith.”
Says Stella
“I just think you would be better off
if you had a little faith in god.” Says Stacy
“Most people don’t identify with god
when they read the Bible.” Says Stella
“Man was made in god’s image, was he
not? I see no reason not to do so.” Says Stacy
“And woman was made from a rib bone.”
Says Stella
“It must have been a gay old time when
god only created male plants and animals before he realized on the last day of
work that he fucked up somewhere along the way by forsaking reproduction of all
things in his own ignorance. Still, a godlike rib is better than plenty of
things.” Says Stacy
“It’s amazing that you have faith in
his omniscience when he forgets that his garden has to repopulate somehow.”
Says Stella
“People who believe in god often tend
to be a bit prudish; I suppose that include the ghost himself.” Says Stacy
“You may have just instilled a bit of
faith for making sense of that story for me.” Says Stella
“Glad I could help. The answer is
always there if you want it to be, you just have to make it up sometimes.” Says
Stacy
“Let’s get our things and go, I’m sure
you would love to keep preaching but school is rather irreverent when it comes
to faith.” Says Stella, as they go upstairs and get their things together
“It’s a shame something I’m good at
doesn’t even qualify as a subject in school. I’d love some easy marks.” Says
Stacy
“I’m sure you would fail any class on
faith miserably. Whatever you believe isn’t the faith that they teach people.”
Says Stella
“There’s a difference between religious
cannon and faith. It’s hard to be wrong when it comes to having a baseless
belief.” Says Stacy
“I think you could manage to do that.”
Says Stella
“I’ve yet to falter when it comes to
standing firm beside baseless beliefs.” Says Stacy
“Work on that. Doubt is an essential
part of rational thought.” Says Stella
“Faith tends to contradict rational
thought, there’s a reason people are more tempted to take the train to paradise
than take the train to work.” Says Stacy
“That doesn’t seem to be the case
nowadays.” Says Stella
“Even if they want something for
nothing, they still want that something.” Says Stacy
“Let’s not be so foolish and wait for
the train named Godot and instead focus on getting something for something considering
that it is a principle every economy bases itself off of.” Says Stella
“The welfare states of the world would
beg to differ.” Says Stacy
“People like dad get something for suffering,
so that’s that. Let’s go.” Says Stella
“Empathy is a savage psychopath that manipulates
society’s mind and relentlessly breaks the bones of any society that welcomes
it until the society can no longer physically support itself and dies.” Says
Stacy
“Quaint. Psychopaths tend to do that
because they lack empathy.” Says Stella
“That doesn’t mean empathy feels any
remorse for doing such things.” Says Stacy
“You really think empathy is a
problem?” asks Stella
“It’s just not a sound or cost
effective budgetary decision. We don’t bend over for every dying man, woman,
and child in Africa, or prolong the lives of every drug trafficker in the third
world that operates independently from the federal government to a level well
beyond their natural life expectancy, and this solely on account of their
American citizenship or lack thereof. I am a globalist; I see no reason to
treat our own people any differently than the other sick miserable fools that
populate the Earth.” Says Stacy
“Politics is a popularity contest, if
you spit on babies and your opponent kisses them, it’s clear who is going to
win the race.” Says Stella
“It’s a damn shame because drug dealers
and football players don’t tend to be the brightest, regardless of their
popularity.” Says Stacy
“Popularity changes a lot once you’re
an adult.” Says Stella
“You’re right; it’s only the rich that
remain popular after high school. At least they’ve got somebody’s best interest
at heart, even if it is only their own. It’s progress from the drug abusing
running back.” Says Stacy
“I still don’t see why you think you’re
much better.” Says Stella
“It’s the vaccine mentality; a little
pinprick every now and again can prevent an extraordinary amount of suffering
down the road.” Says Stacy
“You call tyranny a pinprick?” asks
Stella
“It is compared to anarchy or inverted
capitalism.” Says Stacy
“That’s debatable, but we’ve got no
time. You’ve talked so much we might actually be late.” Says Stella
“You would just sprint to school if
that were the case. I know you’re lying too because you would have dragged me
out the door by the ear by now if you weren’t.” says Stacy
“True. Don’t make me do it though.”
Says Stella
“I’m following you out the door as we
speak.” Says Stacy
“Good.” Says Stella, leaving the room
and walking down the stairs “Bye dad, we’ve got to go.”
“Bye,
honey.” Says Dale tiredly and reflexively, Stella walks out the door
“I’d love to chat but she’d pull my
ears off if I did.” Says Stacy
“Keep your ears; you’ll need ‘em at
school.” Says Dale
“Good point. Be good, don’t die, ok?”
asks Stacy
“That’s kind of an either or, but I
won’t die on you.” Says Dale
“That’s good enough for me.” Says Stacy
“You have fine taste in good.” Says Dale
“Good. See you later.” Says Stacy as
she walks out the door
“Bye now.” Says Dale as the door shuts
The girls stroll down the street, the
she-wolf eying her prey, salivating at the thought of her next meal providing
the sustenance she needs to stay alive. The hunted weary and wary but rather
content with her role in such an ecosystem, the minimal self-awareness leads a
beast to find little existential value in its life, surviving solely by
instinct. The metallic groans of the proper people factory strike harmonics
with the cold and lifeless gears implanted into the girls which start to turn
in synchronicity, the friction grinding away at the flesh, tearing new wounds
where the overgrowth of sentimentality stood in the way of the mechanical
conditioning of the proper lust for work death in youth such as these.
“Well, looks like it’s time to numb my
brain so I can submit myself to this sadism.” Says Stacy
“You could just be a masochist.” Says
Stella
“I’ll do my best. It seems to be god’s
will that I become one. “Says Stacy
“I’ll make you feel better.” Says
Stella
“Not right now, ok? Maybe later, but
not here.” says Stacy
“Tonight… you.” Says Stella, grinning
“Right-o. Ta ta.” Says Stacy, taken
aback slightly, reminded that she was becoming too comfortable in her own skin
“Ta ta, love.” Says Stella
Stacy walks through the hallways of the
old school passing other girls as traumatized by the opinions of their peers as
Stacy is from her ventures. Stacy walks into her class, Jenna looks at her
surprised.
“I didn’t think you would come to
school today.” Says Jenna, surprised
“Stella would have dragged me here if I
tried.” Says Stacy
“You ok, after all of that?” says
Jenna, timidly
“The arm’s still sore, one hell of a
game of basketball, wasn’t it?” asks Stacy, blatantly rigidly lying through her
teeth
“Yeah. You sure do love basketball.”
Says Jenna distantly
“I sure do. I’ll stretch proper before
we play next time.” Says Stacy
“That’s good.” Says Jenna
“You sure are good at basketball. I
can’t wait for next time.” Says Stacy, classmates looking at her
“I don’t particularly enjoy basketball
to be honest.” Says Jenna, in a distant staccato
“It will just be a pleasant shoot
around next time, nothing serious.” Says Stacy
“That sounds like something you would
take seriously.” Says Jenna
“You know me. Ball is life.” Says Stacy
“Well, we’re in school right now, so
maybe school should be life right now.” Says Jenna, faintly
“I take school seriously too, you
know.” Says Stacy, rubbing the back of her head
“You know the teacher’s not here yet,
Stacy. You don’t have to pretend like that.” Says a girl
“I don’t have eyes in the back of my
head, Rachel. It was a precaution. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t save face
like that.” Says Stacy, returning to normal
“You’re a terrible liar, you know?”
asks Rachel
“You think I was lying?” asks Stacy
“You don’t love school, that’s for
sure. Your little embarrassed head rub gave it away.” says Rachel
“Keen as the dickens, aren’t you?” asks
Stacy
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
Says Rachel
“Sure. Let me sneak into my seat before
I look like some iconoclast that doesn’t fawningly stare at the board and hears
a chorus of angels when the teacher talks.” Says Stacy
“Does anybody do that?” asks Rachel
“Most people here at least pretend to,
and it’s pretty convincing at that.” Says Stacy
“You give people too much credit; you
might just be exaggerating things on account of your own inadequacy.” Says
Rachel
“It’s not inadequacy that gives me the
propensity to believe those things, quite the opposite. Inadequacy is what
drives people to become sycophants to the machine.” Says Stacy
“What machine?” asks Rachel
“Mankind. God in the machine. Babylon.”
Says Stacy
“What?” asks Rachel
“Civil society and its offspring such
as school.” Says Stacy
“That is not what god in the machine
means at all; you didn’t pay attention when we learned that a few years ago?”
Says Rachel
“Because you like to take a hammer to
those pretty nails of yours, don’t you?” asks Stacy
“For the love of god, sit down, Stacy.
It’s not the time for this.” Says Jenna
“I’ll do us all a favor and let us
appear to be sweet little schoolgirls when the teacher walks in.” says Stacy
“Thank you.” Says Jenna, as Stacy walks
to her seat
“What were you talking to Jenna about?”
asks Ophelia
“Just that game of basketball from the
other day.” Says Stacy
“What game of basketball?” asks Ophelia
“The one where I fell down and hurt my
arm, remember?” says Stacy
“Oh. That. Yeah.” Says Ophelia softly
“Don’t worry, I’m fine. Just a bit
sore.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. Is Stella doing ok?” asks
Ophelia
“Well, she’s keeping it together.” Says
Stacy
“You didn’t do anything bad after we
left, did you?” asks Ophelia
“Not by your standards.” jokes Stacy
“What’s that supposed to mean? Did you
hurt her feeling again? I have real standards Stacy.” asks Ophelia
“Stella is fine, she tore me a new one,
but we worked it out in the end.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. You kind of deserved it,
but I’m glad you worked it out.” Says Ophelia
“She let me have a piece of her mind
and then some. I don’t know if I deserved that much.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure you definitely
deserved it. You made Stella cry, like a lot. It was so sad.” Says Ophelia
“She’s happy with me now. So let’s just
leave it at that.” Says Stacy
“Really? How did you manage that one?”
asks Ophelia
“I just had to remind her that I really
do love her.” Says Stella
“Aww. You’re such a good sister.” Says
Ophelia
“I don’t know if I’m a good sister, but
I’m trying my best.” Says Stacy
“That’s all you can really do.” Says
Ophelia
“Let’s hope it’s good enough. She’s
hard to please.” Says Stacy
“Just keep trying your best and it will
work out, she doesn’t expect a miracle or anything.” Says Ophelia
“For my sake I truly hope so.” Says
Stacy
“I know her, she doesn’t expect
miracles.” Says Ophelia
“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t expect a
lot.” Says Stacy
“Well you are her sister. You should
have a lot to give her, more for her than for anybody else.” Says Ophelia
“Let’s hope it’s enough.” Says Stacy
“Don’t be lazy and please make her
happy, she deserves the best out of you. I don’t want to see her like that
again.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t either. Trust me.” Says Stacy
“I trust you. I’m glad there was a
happy ending to the sad story though.” Says Ophelia
“It’s better than a sad ending.” Says
Stacy
“Way better. No sad endings, Stacy.”
Says Ophelia sternly
“No sad endings.” Says Stacy reluctant
and distant but committed to her words, the teacher enters
The teacher brandishes a handgun and
questions the children to test their loyalty to the communist party, those who
are bold enough to answer incorrectly are executed in plain sight of their
peers, some of whom giggle if the response was foolish enough. The gods of
communism would never let a peasant die for its inalienable ignorance and thus
the children are resurrected by the magical chanting that instils the correct
values of the communist party into their souls, purifying them of their
ignorance. Most of the children are happy to consume the flavorful propaganda,
Stacy listens halfheartedly, loyal only to living, but in the current theatre
that means making the soul-crushing decision to ally with the communists in
order to overcome a greater evil, even if that simply means betraying them in
the end. The bell rings and the girls all trot merrily to their next
indoctrination station where they consume the next government sanctioned
flavors of propaganda. This continues in the proper cycle as is mandated by the
state. The authority cries a single tear as the stomachs of the children growl,
the authority knowing all too well that propaganda cannot provide physical
nutrition to the peasants, thus the children are released to consume state
sanctioned lunch. The girls sit at their usual seat at the usual table in the
healthily brown grass under the sky that never rains.
“I live.” Says Stacy, triumphantly
“You thought you were going to die?”
asks Jenna
“I always think that when I have to come
here.” Says Stacy
“It wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t
dwell upon it so much.” Says Jenna
“I will savor this sweet delicious meal
in solace.” Says Stacy
“Solace from what?” asks Jenna
“Life. I thought Stella might join us
today, but I’m glad she’d rather sit with her friends.” Says Stacy
“I hope you didn’t make things worse
after we left.” Says Jenna
“Quite the contrary, we patched up the
holes, baled the water, and somehow managed to keep the good ship afloat.” Says
Stacy
“Really?” asks Jenna
“I would be distraught if that were not
the case.” Says Stacy
“She just had to remind Stella that she
really loved her. It’s so cute that Stacy was actually nice for once and it
solved all of her problems.” Says Ophelia
“Cute. That’s what it is.” Says Stacy,
grimly
“That is pretty cute.” Says Jenna
“Let’s leave it at that. I’d rather not
dwell upon the past when the future is knocking at our door.” Says Stacy
“Is it now?” asks Jenna
“Well I’ve still got to handle Stella
on top of this ring nonsense, so I’ve got to be on my toes.” Says Stacy
“I thought you and Stella were on good
terms now.” Says Jenna
“We are, but I’ve got to keep it that
way. That’s going to be the hard part.” Says Stacy
“How is that hard?” asks Ophelia
“You know how easy it is for her to
spring a leak.” Says Stacy
“Most people would spring a leak when
you shoot torpedoes at them, Stacy. I’m surprised she handles it as well as she
does.” Says Jenna
“I’m plugging holes in a ship with my
fingers at this point, but if that’s what it takes to keep the ship afloat, so
be it.” Says Stacy, a bit embarrassed by the thought
“At least you’re trying.” Says Ophelia
“Let’s hope I don’t run out of
fingers.” Says Stacy
“You’re the only one putting holes in
Stella, so it’s your own fault if you do.” Says Jenna
“I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t want
Stella, myself, or anyone else to drown on account of my own foolishness, and I
realized just how easy it would be for me to do that. I am doing everything I
can, and that seems to be working.” Says Stacy
“That’s one problem that’s hopefully
resolved. That just leaves the ring.” Says Jenna
“I think we did ok last time, clearly
the dog liked what we did.” Says Stacy
“We did terrible, you even got hurt.”
Says Ophelia
“Well, we had the right idea at least,
even if the execution wasn’t exactly on point.” Says Stacy
“Don’t say that word. It is frightening
what you did to those people.” Says Jenna
“It is more frightening what they would
have done to that girl. I gave them a swift death, more humane than a Hebrew
slaughtering an animal for kosher meat. They would have tortured that girl to
no end if it weren’t for me.” Says Stacy
“I believe you. They seemed like really
bad people, they did kind of just fall down without screaming or anything.”
Says Ophelia
“I told you.” Says Stacy
“I take it you’ve got no qualms with
doing that sort of thing again.” Says Jenna
“I’ve got plenty of qualms with being
shot. Other than that I’ve no regrets.” Says Stacy
“Well, hopefully you have plenty of
time to think about it, what, with being out of commission with a bullet hole
in your arm and everything.” Says Jenna
“It’s not as bad as you think; you wove
some wicked magic into it somehow. It still hurts but nowhere near the point
that it was at yesterday.” Says Stacy
“Wow. That’s amazing Jenna.” Says
Ophelia
“Let me see you move it, it’s been limp
all day as far as I can tell.” Says Jenna
“Argh.” Grumbles Stacy as she lifts her
left arm up to a 90 degree angle before letting it drop again
“That was either impressive pain
tolerance or I might have hurt you even worse by letting you off the hook so
easy.” Says Jenna
“No. I definitely learned my lesson.
The pain was excruciating, believe me. You’re just keeping the captain healthy
so the ship doesn’t sink.” Says Stacy
“I’m not sure healthy is how I would
describe your mentality.” Says Jenna
“Well, it’s hearty at least. That’ll
have to do.” Says Stacy
“It’s better than nothing.” Says Jenna
“I think she’s got the right mindset,
it would be a lot worse if she wasn’t willing to take on the challenge we’ve been
given.” Says Ophelia
“You tend to be unscathed by everything
that has happened, that seems odd.” Says Jenna
“I just have faith that Stacy’s magic
and God will protect us. We’re the good guys, remember?” says Ophelia
“What of it?” asks Jenna
“Bad things don’t happen to the good
guys.” Says Ophelia
“Stacy got shot in the arm on
Saturday.” Says Jenna, dryly
“Well, God works in mysterious ways; I
think he did that so she would learn not to get shot again.” Says Ophelia
“That’s what I’m saying. Pessimism never
did anybody any good, it’s the scapegoat for people addicted to the thrill of
losing, and you’re not like that, so let the pessimism go.” Says Stacy
“I was just being realistic.” Says
Jenna
“Realism can easily be interpreted as
pessimism when you don’t have faith in the favorable and preferable yet
simultaneously realistic outcome.” Says Stacy
“If the outcome is improbable then the
mentality ceases to be known as realism.” Says Jenna
“It’s still somewhat realistic, just
take that mentality instead. If you have so much faith in realism I might have
to ramble on about how an impressionist, a surrealist, or a cubist would
interpret out situation.” Jokes Stacy
“I’ll let you know the next time
somebody answers the optimist, realist or pessimist question with the fact that
cubism is the mentality they use to interpret the glass.” Says Jenna
“The glass is not half full, or half
empty, it has been shattered into cubes, some of which are full of water, some
are empty, some with shards of glass and others are pure, only after being
broken in such a way can the glass fully transcend into a legitimate
multidimensional reality.” Says Stacy
“I can’t wait for that to evolve into
an Art Decoistic mentality.” Says Jenna
“The glass of water is not a glass, but
a crystal chalice that reflects light in such a glamorous way that it pierces
through your eyes right into your heart and you’re awe struck, thinking that
chalice is cutting edge, that beauty is the future, you when you see, you will
know it, and you’ve seen it, doll face.” Says Stacy
“Thanks for that.” Says Jenna
“I don’t really get it.” Says Ophelia
“It’s just Stacy drawing the conclusion
that cubism is a school of thought because it ends in -ism, may well be a
McCarthyist and use McCarthyism to define your perspective of the water in the
glass.” Says Jenna
“We must first interrogate the glass of
water to find out if it has any affiliation the communist party, then we can
then determine its purity based upon its susceptibility to being swayed by the
indoctrinating propaganda of the communist regimes, if it does not falter in its
identity as an American, it can truly be considered pure water as opposed to
some kind of poison, and if it is pure water, by God it is half full, because
it believes in freedom and that means it’s working hard to accomplish its
dreams, and getting a little more full every day.” Says Stacy
“I liked the Art Decoistic mentality a
bit more.” Says Jenna
“Sadly I’m more of a perfectionist.”
Says Stacy
“Your version of perfection leaves a
lot to be desired, sadly.” Says Jenna
“A perfect dodecahedron is not perfect
because it is emanates pure natural beauty and creature comforts, it is perfect
because it is precise and accurate.” Says Stacy
“I’m surprised you even know that
word.” Says Jenna
“What is it?” asks Ophelia
“A cube is made up of only squares; a
dodecahedron is made up of only pentagons.” Says Jenna
“Oh. That’s boring.” Says Ophelia
“Boring, but mathematically perfect.”
Says Stacy
“Mathematical perfection and physical
efficiency don’t always go hand in hand.” Says Jenna
“Say that to a circle.” Says Stacy
“The impossible shape, of course, but
I’ll remind the next dodecahedron I see of its functional irrelevance.” Says
Jenna
“It has far more structural integrity
than a bunch of politicians who do nothing but contort themselves to please the
crowd like French circus performers.” Says Stacy
“Tireless when it comes to this. I feel
you could win every debate because your opponent just starts slamming the head
into the podium.” Says Jenna
“I’ll take the victory by whatever
means it comes to me.” Says Stacy
“Clearly.” Says Jenna, as the second lunch bell rings
“Yay. Animal club time.” Says Ophelia,
excitedly
“Yay.” Says Stacy in a drab sarcastic
monotone, as they get up
“Come on, animals are awesome.” Says
Ophelia
“It’s better than class, but it’s still
a classroom.” Says Stacy
“We get to see our friends.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m just glad we get to talk for once. I’m tired of listening all day.” Says
Stacy
“Talking to you is far more exhausting
than listening, I don’t have to quickly analyze a teachers rantings to find out
if there is anything life threatening hidden in there somewhere.” Says Jenna
“You worry too much. I’m still alive.”
Says Stacy
“You would say that on your death bed
with five hours left to live.” Says Jenna
“I’d probably be a bit more bitter at
that point, but regardless.” Says Stacy, as the girls trek through the halls as
the more loquacious amongst them talk over them to the point of violently
drowning those who speak in modest tones before finally arriving at their
destination
Girls slowly enter the room, the
Mondays of Monday left some of the bitches besmitten by bitches bitching, a bit
bitter, some a bit bitterer, and others a bitter bit bitterer, bittered by
their bitter bits, bits a bit bitterer than the better bitter bits bittering
the litter of bittered bitches. It was Monday after all. The last few come in
dragging their tails and Aurelia gets the attention of the room as Grace and
Isabelle sneak in to sit next to their friends.
“Hello, everybody! One of the things we
do is at least try to raise money,
it’s pretty hard, but if you want to try and help come talk to me. I’m not
suggesting that you go door to door or anything, that can be dangerous and you
should remember we’ve already heard about how bad things can happen. I was
thinking if you maybe know a lot of your neighbors that might want to help you
can talk to them, or even just your friends and family. Every little bit helps,
and at least some people are nice enough to care about the suffering animals.
No pressure, the shelter does get supported by the city, but they struggle a
little bit to care for the dogs to the best of their ability on account of
funding. The city mainly wants the animals off the streets, they don’t care so
much about their happiness, sadly. That’s all I’ve really got to say about
that.
On top of that, I want to thank
everybody again who came out to the shelter over the weekend, it seems like
everybody had a great time and I hope to see you girls there in the future. If
you didn’t come you can talk to the other girls and I’m sure they’ll tell you
all about it. It’s loads of fun if you love animals, which I’m kind of
presuming you do if you’re here for the most part. The rest of the time you
girls can enjoy yourselves, try to keep it animal related, but I’m not going to
hound you if you’re doing something else.” Says Aurelia, girls get up and get
things to entertain themselves or further their career ambitions
Ophelia returns with a magazine, Jenna
starts her homework, the others idle.
“What did you three end up doing on
Saturday?” asks Isabelle
“Nothing.” Says Jenna, quickly and
instinctively, cold and completely detached from that reality
“We played some basketball, studied a
bit, boring stuff.” Says Stacy
“Yeah.” Says Ophelia, softly
“I didn’t think you’d be into sports.”
Says Isabelle
“I’m too small to really play them, but
I can enjoy the recreational variety. A bit too much it seems, as I ended up
hurting my arm being too aggressive.” Says Stacy
“Really? What happened?” asks Grace
“I was foolish enough to try and
emulate the moves you see the urban folk pull off every day on the courts. Took
a nasty tumble, must have fell on it wrong.” Says Stacy
“That’s hilarious. You would be the one
to put expectations for your performance well above your physical capacity.”
Says Isabelle
“I wouldn’t say I don’t have the
capacity, it will just take some practice to master that sort of thing.” Says
Stacy
“You two enjoy sports? We could go
shoot hoops sometime or something.” Says Isabelle
“I’m not much of a competitor; Stacy
gives enough effort for the both of us on that front.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure you could just stand there
and it would be effective defense against Stacy. It sounds like she’s her own
worst enemy.” Says Isabelle
“I hope she can work on that.” Says
Jenna
“I learned my lesson.” Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t mind playing some sports;
I’m not very good though. It is kind of fun.” Says Ophelia distantly
“That’s cool. I’m not great either.
Grace tends to be the athlete between us.” Says Isabelle
“I’m not too competitive, so don’t
worry about it.” Says Grace
“We’ve got 5 people; we could play as a
team if there is another group at one of the courts.” Says Isabelle
“Unless they are little kids, I don’t
think we would have much of a chance against a group men.” Says Jenna
“You’ve got to get some of Stacy’s
fighting spirit in you. They could be awful for all we know.” Says Isabelle
“That would barely make it a fair game,
a game of attrition since nobody could make a shot. Neither of the three of us
are athletes, and Stacy’s on the bench due to injury for the time being.” Says
Jenna
"You could just pass the ball to Grace;
she’s got most of the fundamentals down. I’m sure Stacy could drum up some wild
plays or something. We could even start to hustle people like in the movies.”
Says Isabelle
“I think that would be a losing game.
Clearly I’m not the ace in the hole we would need seeing how I end up on the
floor just playing around.” Says Stacy
“That’s a good point. It would still be
good fun though.” Says Grace
“It does sound like a good time.” Says
Ophelia
“What did you two end up doing?” asks
Stacy
“The usual, I entertained Grace as she
ranted about women’s liberation and what not. We watched a movie, Boring stuff
for the most part.” Says Isabelle
“Women are pretty liberated at the
moment, if we keep heading in this direction pretty soon the laws of physics
won’t apply to women.” Jokes Stacy
“Women are still systematically
oppressed and abused by society. People pretend that the laws protect women but
the culture of silence ruins any prospect of that because women fear for their
lives if they speak out.” Says Grace
“Everybody is systematically oppressed
and abused by society, it’s just a domino effect from the top as the oligarchs
feel oppressed and abused by the fact that they aren’t omnipotent and they take
it out on their underlings who spread that indignation to their underlings and
it continues on and on until it reaches women and then continues to children
and through the echelons of the women’s hierarchy. By giving into that
indignation you are not really standing up for anybody, you are simply
justifying the indignation of the men who have been oppressing and abusing
women on account of said indignation.” Says Stacy
“Damn, Stacy. That’s pretty bold
considering you tend to be indignant about the oppression of society all the
time.” Says Isabelle
“I’m not indignant as much as
dumbfounded and revolted by the stupidity. It is sickening, but I don’t feel
that I’m wronged in any way. I can’t expect a braindead man to drive a
firetruck to a burning building and extinguish the blaze, I am at a loss for
words why a braindead man is the fire chief, but that’s another story.” Says
Stacy
“I’ve never met a braindead
firefighter.” Says Ophelia
“It was an allegory about the government.”
Says Stacy
“You really think you aren’t equally
braindead in that regard compared with the government?” asks Jenna
“It doesn’t matter. I simply have
higher standards of quality. This is why I vehemently spit on the idiots. If
there comes a day when my hand is what determines the fates of the people, and
the results are equally poor, I will welcome the people to spit on me and do so
righteously. I will enjoy it, because I, myself, have failed to meet my own
standards of quality and will know full well that I deserve the disrespect.”
Says Stacy
“Wow, Stacy. You’re a dirty girl.”
Teases Isabelle
“I think it has more to do with an
ingrained disdain for anything human as opposed to any sort of sick pleasure
one might derive from such a thing.” Says Jenna
“It would pleasure me, because it would
mean the people have raised their standards. If I were to do an equally
miserable job at shepherding the people and the people somehow respected me and
appreciated me regardless of my mistakes, then I would be displeased and let
down that the people are still so willing to happily accept such detestable
failure as if it were something worthwhile and remarkable.” Says Stacy
“You sound a lot like Grace, never
satisfied. I tell her all the time that women have made tons of progress; you
don’t need to be up in arms over every little thing. You expect men to just lie
down and say thank you while you stomp on them and try to rob them of any
self-respect they have. Somebody has to wear the pants, and you should realize
that men can’t wear dresses, so they should honestly wear the pants.” Says
Isabelle
“Their self-respect is founded in
disgusting chauvinism and aggression. Those sorts of things need to be
addressed or otherwise half of society is stuck in a positive feedback loop of
degrading women. Everybody should wear the pants, everybody has the capability
to make decisions and they should be expected to do so, I don’t see how you’re
ok with having somebody else decide your fate for you.” Says Grace
“If everybody’s making decisions, it’s
like having four horses that are each pulling your wagon in opposite
directions, you don’t go anywhere and eventually the wagon breaks. You know why
a wagon works? It’s because none of the four horses make any decisions, the
wagoner makes the decision and the horses are beaten or choked with the bridle
if they veer even slightly off course or stop running. People are like horses, they
are ignorant, dangerous, and want simple things, where a quality set of principles
and mantras would be the wagoner, the principles and mantras would never buckle
under the pressures of vice or misery and succumb to the weaknesses of humans,
for they cannot. The principles and mantras are what should guide the people,
not the aimless wandering of the horses who simply search for satiation without
any foresight. In the end you’re either sleeping in a barn or you’re running
away from wolves all night because you wandered away looking for tasty
shrubbery to eat. It’s not a hard decision to make.” Says Stacy
“I think people are smart enough to
make their own decisions.” Says Grace
“I have plenty of faith in the fact
that they can make decisions, I have little faith in them making good
decisions, however. People wouldn’t be indignant if they made good decisions,
the main reason people are indignant is because they made mistakes and are
simply looking to shift the blame onto someone else.” Says Isabelle
“Plenty of people have good reasons to
be indignant; our country was at one point a goldmine of systematic oppression.
You can’t say it’s the people’s fault for being oppressed by the government.”
Says Jenna
“Those times have come and gone, it’s
called the land of opportunity for a reason, just because you squander that
opportunity doesn’t mean you can blame the system for every one of your
shortcomings.” Says Isabelle
“You can when the system is responsible
for those shortcomings. The effects of oppression are still felt in things like
the achievement gap and the wage gap.” Says Grace
“Last I checked there was no wage gap
between men earning minimum wage and women earning minimum wage. If you look
beyond that point it is a meritocracy, if you’re not capable of entrepreneurial
innovation and you subject yourself to subservience to somebody who is it’s
your own damn fault when you fall victim to their whims. You could easily
become a sycophant and climb the ladder that way if you’re willing to live that
sort of life. Make your own dreams come true, because nobody else is going to
do it. If women weren’t so naturally submissive then they could easily found
their own businesses and inverse the wage gap out of their own desire to
dominate the opposite sex.” Says Isabelle
“It’s hard to uproot the establishment,
and as of now it’s filled with men who surf the wake of generations of discrimination.
That sort of culture is unacceptable and needs to be addressed.” Says Grace
“If you were in their shoes you would
stop at nothing to stomp on the faces of anybody you don’t like or don’t trust
that wants to climb the ladder you stand on top of. It’s not like they’re any
different than you other than their positions on the ladder. It’s hypocritical
to criticize them for instinctual self-preservation when you not only want to
preserve yourself but empower yourself.” Says Isabelle
“I’m not fond of all the ladder
stomping either. My philosophy is to shoot everybody on the ladders with a
pellet gun at the end of the day so they climb down and sleep in the dirt with
everybody else. If you need to climb the ladder to reach some fruit so be it,
just don’t get comfortable because you’re coming down off the ladder dead or
alive, there’s no need for stomping. If you’re going to fight somebody you do
it on level ground with fisticuffs like a classy gentleman. It’s shameless to
even accommodate the super-positioning of people like that.” Says Stacy
“Well, the people who are high on the
ladder are there because they are good at picking the fruit. Most people can’t
do it, so those people are rewarded greatly for their skill as they provide a
critical role in the system that reaps and processes such a boon.” Says
Isabelle
“In my book, you can either do it out
of the goodness of your heart or out of fear of death, there’s no room for
hedonists and materialists who are afflicted by vice. Giving somebody anything
besides a comfortable and humble existence is immoral. Paying them money
accommodates cardinal greed which is greeted by death, doled by the hands of
men or god himself, this kills all men save for the meek of this sick world who
are but human sacrifices for the blessings of Mammon. If we would lose workers
to extranational outsourcing because of competitive job offers, break their
legs, they’re not going anywhere. Instead of conditioning the veneration of
greed, we should simply condition humility.” Says Stacy
“That is such a moralistic view; I doubt any of the sick vice fueled demons
that live in this country could ever appreciate your godliness.” Says Jenna
sarcastically
“That is true, but they could
appreciate not having the buttstock of a rifle driven into their skull repeatedly.
The ends justify the means, and while they may be unable to appreciate
godliness, they will certainly slither their snake bodies towards warmth and
comfort at the end of the day.” Says Stacy
“I think a lot of people do appreciate God,
the right does well in elections most of the time.” Says Ophelia
“That’s true, it’s certainly not
because of their policy making.” jokes Isabelle
“I don’t know about their policies, but
I would vote for the people who believe in God. It’s really important after
all.” Says Ophelia
“The bible says that man cannot worship
both God and Mammon, the conservatives seem to disagree.” Says Isabelle
“It says you can, you will simply
prefer one over the other. Clearly the conservative elect will side with Mammon
over God, but that doesn’t mean they can’t respect God enough to win over the
religious populous. It really isn’t hard when the opponent’s platform is
killing babies and burning money.” Says Stacy
“As much as you want to think that,
it’s not true at all. Abortion helps a lot, plenty of people can’t care for a
child and the child would suffer on account of it, or the child might have some
terrible problem. They’re not burning money either; they would just rather see
that it helps people instead of sits in the pockets of the rich.” Says Grace
“Abortion doesn’t help. If the people
cannot care for the child, the child is repossessed and becomes property of the
state. I cannot defend America killing its own soldiers in the womb rather than
have them baptized in the blood of her enemies and actually admitted into
heaven. Women should clearly suffer for fornicating irresponsibly and unintentionally
getting pregnant; pregnancy is an affliction very much akin to any other
venereal disease, and such is the price one pays for vice. One may well let
everybody out of prison because they could abort their penal sentence on
account that they made a mistake as society can easily greatly reduce the
repercussions and suffering the actions of criminals have on their own bodies
if we disregard morality entirely. If the child has some terrible disease, so
be it, it’s not difficult to kill a baby after it is born. The woman easily deserves to suffer the pain
of childbirth for having such a diseased child in the first place, largely for
fornicating and even simply for reproducing if such a disease could be
predicted by genetics. If the disease couldn’t be predicted, I can support
abortion at that point, but still, that is not a willy-nilly kill my baby
mentality that most people on the left have.” Says Stacy
“Wow.” Says Jenna
“I’m with you. Who will fight the wars
if everybody who would struggle to support a child is given contraception and
abortions? Who will do the menial labor? Affluent people hardly reproduce in
the first place, if you accommodate contraception and abortion, the poor will
die off and society will collapse.” Says Isabelle
“You realize without any form of
contraception a lot more people would get diseases, right?” asks Grace
“Perhaps free people, but freedom is
the antithesis of civil society. A civil society would cull the population and
quarantine people based upon their infectious diseases. This would apply to all
illnesses of vice including venereal and genetic conditions. This could easily
eliminate the diseases from society in one lifetime if these people sterilized,
but as that may cripple the working population; it might be a slow controlled
burn through poor healthcare and living conditions exacerbated by their
untreated afflictions of their own vice.” Says Stacy
“You want to create an even more
extreme form of segregation?” asks Jenna
“All domesticated beasts on earth are
culled thoroughly save for humans, there is no reason not to apply proper
animal husbandry to the wicked beast that discovered such knowledge himself.”
Says Stacy
“You expect people to go along with
this?” asks Jenna
“The wild horse does not let a man ride
him to and fro and rend himself of his instinct to obey the whims of the man;
the horse does not respect the man. The horse must be broken, only then can its
true potential of anything other than a wandering beast that accomplishes
nothing be reached. Humans are like wild horses driven by their whims and
instinct, they simply see themselves as greater than this because of their
meager intelligence. Man must be broken so that he can reach his true
potential. Wild horses eat shrubs and run around pointlessly all day, broken
horses have turned the tides of war and acted as the right hand of humans as
they reared this glorious dystopia from the godforsaken dirt. This is the
transformation that can be accomplished if humans are broken instead of free.
This is the glory I seek.” Says Stacy
“I’m all for breaking men, thoroughly.
A tame man will seldom cause a problem compared to a wild one. Unlike horses
men are naturally violent and evil, so as much as I can’t agree with you, I
think you’ll do more good than harm if you actually accomplish that sort of
thing.” Says Grace
“Humans are pretty broken. A wild human
would be wandering the forest scavenging for berries or something.” Says Jenna
“A wild human uses tools and fire to
provide for himself. Anything before that point is a primordial beast and
nothing but an evolutionary progenitor of humans, just as the ancestors of rats
evolved into what we know today to be humans, as well as rats of course. Humans
have built this society out of their instinct just as a bird would build a
nest, even as society dulls their instincts, they have nothing else to resort
to other than ignorance. A broken beast would need a master, and such a master
must rise above the nature of the beast and forsake it’s humanity in the name
of society.” Says Stacy
“You don’t seem to have any issues
forsaking your humanity.” Says Jenna, rolling her eyes
“I cannot forsake what I never had.”
Says Stacy
“I’m all for it Stacy. Hearing you is like music to my ears after listening to
the same sob story from Grace demonizing men all the time yet wanting nothing
but to invert their oppression and place it upon them. That sort of thinking
accomplishes nothing, it’s petty and childish. You want to innovate, and that’s
what the world needs. Indignation doesn’t accomplish anything even if it
succeeds in making a change, because in the end that only shifts the
indignation from one party to another.” Says Isabelle
“I’m pretty sure everybody would be
indignant if Stacy was in charge.” Says Jenna
“Thus the stubborn ox is whipped until
it submits. Regardless of however it may have no desire to pull the plow, its
desire to not be whipped supersedes that indifference and thus progress is
made.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure that’s called
slavery.” Says Jenna
“Go emancipate every beast of burden in
the third world and come back to me. We are still slaves and we are whipped by
the punitive nature of society if we do not comply with its desires that we
work and act peacefully, we do not eat and do not sleep comfortably if we do
not comply with its demands. Just because the whip is invisible does not mean
the lashes do not sting and that does not mean we are not slaves submitting to
a slave driver. The illusion of freedom is given to content a human, just as a
bull is castrated in order to be controlled more easily. Politicians have never
done anything but drown people in propaganda that regards their society as a
utopia, only fools believe such lies, but sadly humans are fools by their very
nature.” Says Stacy
“Of course we can never talk about
animals. I’m just looking at all these cute animals begging to be talked about
and wanting to be saved but no, Animal Club is never about animals.” Says
Ophelia
“Humans are animals, and I am talking
about saving them. It’s topical.” Says Stacy
“Whatever.” Says Ophelia, returning to
her magazine
“I’m kind of glad you’re distracting me
from my homework to be honest. I will get to go home and have its sensibility
wash over me like the waters of a hot spring.” Says Jenna
“I am perfectly sensible.” Says Stacy
“Your ideas are completely
impracticable, that sort of negates and sensibility you may come across.” Says
Jenna
“I simply lay in wait until the woes of
man fester due to his mistakes and misdeeds, as the agony courses through him I
shall offer him salvation, and the whips that lash him day and night shall be
the greatest pleasure he has ever known when compared to the suffering induced
by his own savagery.” Says Stacy
“You really think it will come to
that?” asks Isabelle
“The vice will fester and dismantle
society as it strays further and further from the light of god, chaos and
darkness will ensue, and the divine chains of wisdom shall bind the wretched
beasts as they are conditioned by the physical abuse of mutual principles that
shape starving wild wolves into healthy and obedient dogs that protect the master
that has nurtured them. Such beasts are loyal and shan’t bite the hand that
feeds them.” Says Stacy
“What exactly do you plan to feed them
in the times of chaos and darkness?” asks Jenna
“I will feed them the corpses of men
who are foolish enough to attempt to stand in the way of a savage barking wolf
pack tamed by humility and fueled by godly sadomasochism.” Says Stacy
“Amazing. Cannibalism. I like it.” Says
Jenna, dryly
“Man would rather eat than starve, I
simply teach the man that his only predator is his fellow man and thus he must
assume the role of the predator and instead prey upon those who wish to prey
upon him.” says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure you can get a lot of
diseases that way.” Says Isabelle
“I wouldn’t literally feed them people.
They would simply reap the harvest of the spoils of war. Of course I would
fertilize the fields of my people with the corpses of our enemies. I would
raise a proper army to fight barbarians. As the fools try to fend for
themselves, the wise fend for each other as a collective.” Says Stacy
“Isn’t that what society already does?”
asks Ophelia
“People fend for themselves for the
most part; they only look out for one another when it benefits them personally,
even if it only takes the form of concessions to their conscience. A proper man
does not regard himself as an individual, he does not quantify himself. He only
acknowledges his wolf pack and knows that without them he is dead, so he
himself is not actually alive in the first place, only the wolf pack is alive.
Individualism induces a backbiting, traitorous, and self-serving mentality that
is unproductive. In a proper society, if one man bites another’s back, all of
society bites the back of the backbiter, for each one of them had their back
bitten by the perpetrator. Selflessness is commonly respected; it is not
unreasonable to expect such a mentality from a member of a society.” Says Stacy
“Why not let somebody else rant for a
change?” asks Jenna
“Is anyone else even prone to ranting?”
asks Stacy
“Grace is, if you let her.” Says
Isabelle
“Kind of, but most of the time Stacy is
talking about dominating men and stuff like that, so I’m pretty happy to listen
to that.” Says Grace
“She’s pretty dead set on dominating
everybody.” Says Jenna
“Since women are already dominated, it wouldn’t
change much except that a woman’s in charge. It’s a nice thought. Besides, an
enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Says Grace
“Fair enough. Carry on, Stacy.” Says
Jenna, returning to her homework
“You broke my train of thought. Sorry
to disappoint.” Says Stacy
“I figured you would think about that sort of thing
incessantly.” Says Jenna
“Oddly enough, not in particular. I don’t really think about it much at all, I
just say what’s on the top of my head and forget about it rather quickly. The
world is a distracting place.” Says Stacy
“If that’s true, it’s impressive that your ideas are so
cohesive.” Says Isabelle
“I guess it’s kind of like a fractal, it just starts with a
seed and it continues indefinitely in a pattern, the seed, the principles and
logical formulas don’t change, I just have to analyze the pattern at a
particular spot to find my sentiments regarding whatever the topic at hand is.”
Says Stacy
“That’s kind of cool, I think most people’s thoughts are
like simple equations that they have memorized and repeat to themselves all of
the time.” Says Isabelle
“That’s how Babylon wants you to think, to just accept the thoughts that are
implanted in your head by the system.” Says Stacy
“That’s how you are supposed to think,
they teach us things because they are true and useful.” Says Jenna
“They may teach you facts, but they
also instill opinions, they condition you to accept their opinions as facts
because they are taught and ingrained alongside irrevocable truths. They teach
you to accept their words as unquestionable by instilling basic knowledge
before indoctrinating you with their occult ideology that cripples your mind
like a prion disease plaguing free thought.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure everybody is free to
think what they want, how would they stop somebody from thinking something?”
asks Ophelia
“They stop you via mental conditioning;
your mind is scared of thinking certain things because they instill that fear
into your mind through disdain, rebuke, and punishment. They make sure your
fear of those ideas and your unnatural systematically conditioned condemnation
of such thoughts scares you away from certain trains of thought so that your
mind becomes more docile and easier to control. A false sense of shame, guilt,
and remorse for thinking contrary to the system is induced and this creates a
sort of Stockholm syndrome where you respect them because they take care of
you, but they also forcefully imprison your mind as they do so.” Says Stacy
“Clearly they haven’t been able to stop
you.” Says Jenna, dryly
“I’m pretty sure they want to help us
succeed for the most part.” Says Isabelle
“Of course they want to help you
succeed, success in those terms means being a valuable and productive slave for
society. That is the pinnacle of success. Just because a slave is given the two
options of obeying and serving his master or dying for refusing to do so does
not mean that those are the only two possibilities, those are simply the two
that are given to the slave by the powers that be.” Says Stacy
“Well, if those are our two choices it
doesn’t seem like attempting to disobey society is a great idea.” Says Jenna
“I do not seek to disobey society, I
seek to use its minimal tolerance for rebuttal to my advantage and slowly chip
away at the foundations of society within the tolerable levels of subtle rebuke
and eventually society will collapse as its foundations have been weakened
enough.” Says Stacy
“Why is a collapsed society more
beneficial than a functional one?” asks Ophelia
“Society tends to be pretty evil and oppressive
to a lot of people, so while it may not be better for the people in power,
plenty of people could see a world without society as better, since society
tends to have a net negative impact on their lives.” Says Grace
“It is the natural order of things,
death and rebirth. Old buildings are demolished and newer more technologically
advanced, structurally sound, and frankly more so useful buildings are erected
in their place. Old lifeforms die out as new ones evolve and are more so fit
for survival. It is all too reasonable that the archaic systems of contemporary
governments be demolished in order to make room for a better form of government
that has corrected the mistakes that cripple the efficacy and utility of the
government. One cannot hold onto the original printing press forever, claiming
that will remain the pinnacle of functionality and utility forever simply
because it was at one point in time. Everything evolves, this includes forms of
governance. It is foolish to attempt to hold onto the past out of nostalgia and
respect when we all know full well that things that fail to adapt to their environment
die out and are replaced by things that have succeeded in that respect. Such a
replacement is inevitable, and I see no point in delaying the inevitable.” Says
Stacy
“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” Says
Jenna, coldly, exhausted
“It’s sputtering along, barely running,
riddled with all of the common problems associated with an aging machine, and
it is far too costly to repair, not to mention impossible to fix while it is
still running. You can enjoy the nostalgia all of the old car all you want, but
it will break down soon enough, and I would rather be proactive than reactive.”
Says Stacy
“That makes enough sense to me, good
luck finding any consensus to do that though.” Says Isabelle
“It’s not hard when consensus is the
only option a living human is given.” Says Stacy
“It’s hard to make that the case,
however.” Says Jenna
“That is already the case. I simply
have to be the only who cooks up and provides the government subsidized public
consensus that is fed to the peasantry.” Says Stacy
“Good luck with that.” Says Jenna
“All one must do is whet the appetites
of the hungry, and they will demand that Stacy be put in charge of the
consensus kitchen.” Says Stacy
“Sadly that is too true, I doubt you’re
willing to part ways with your coldhearted objectivism to feed people their own
egos and fallaciously claim that you will resolve every last meaningless thing
they are indignant about. Even if you do, you will still only end up with half
of the population, seeing how most people are so partisan that they become
indignant if the other side is pleased in the slightest, and this has gotten to
the point where they forsake their own pleasure out of sadomasochistic spite.”
Says Jenna
“It shouldn’t be hard to unify the
indignant into one group of people, the poor are poor, the middle class think
of themselves as poor, the rich think of themselves as middle class, and
everyone who doesn’t think they’re rich hates the rich. The rich hate those
that are more powerful than them, so I simply must antagonize the pinnacles of
power and delude people into thinking that they will somehow benefit when the
powers that reign over the powers that be are systematically exterminated.”
Says Stacy
“I like that game plan. Even the
richest people I know hate the government and don’t think they’re that rich at
all. They’re well off, they’re not rich, they say.” Says Isabelle
“My point exactly, I simply paint the
opponents as proponents of the system and the oppressors of anyone unaffiliated
with the government and that wins me the vote of the majority of the
population. People will put their principles aside when they feel they are
being wronged, it becomes more so about self-serving justice than any sort of
partisan moralistic justice.” Says Stacy
“Have at it. You know you’re actually
convincing. Not that I have any faith in your policy making, it’s just that I
don’t have any faith in anybody’s policy making. I could be petty and say one
party is 95% terrible and the other is 94% terrible and use that to justify
voting for the less so terrible one, but I have too much self-respect to
condone or support anyone over such a trivial reduction in the awfulness of
politics. I couldn’t care less at this point, clearly nothing but petty trivial
things will change and the same problems will be there regardless of what
happens.” Says Jenna
“Yet you don’t want to join the
revolution?” asks Stacy
“I’ll let you handle that. I’d just be
a wet blanket on the fires of revolution with my whole devotion to things like
practical approaches.” Says Jenna
“I think I have a rather practical
approach.” Says Stacy
“It requires that you somehow convince
everybody in America to agree, which is likely impossible.” Says Jenna
“It’s not when they all share a mutual
indignation. That is all they have to agree upon.” Says Stacy
“You might just have a chance then. If
there is one common sentiment among people who give a damn about politics it is
indignation.” Says Jenna
“Good. It would be a shame to be
slapped in the face by your oppressors and tell them ‘Please sir, I want some
more.’” Says Grace
“Jesus says to turn the other cheek.”
Says Ophelia
“That is wise; for you turn the other
cheek to the Romans for you will die if you fail to do so. We face the same
trial as Jesus, and we must merrily take what punishment we are given in the
hope that the truth and glory of our words and ideals will echo throughout time
just as faith in Christ has.” Says Stacy
“I thought Christianity only caught on
because it was simpler than Roman mythology and the government thought it would
be an easier way to teach civility to the people.” Says Isabelle
“Am I not offering the same exact
results to any who would embrace my philosophy?” asks Stacy
“Jesus didn't preach and prophesize
with the hopes that one day it would be used by the government to oppress and
condition people.” Says Jenna
“That’s true; Jesus just wanted to help
people.” Says Ophelia
“I simply want to help people. It may
be tough love, but the love is as pure as that of the son of god.” Says Stacy
“That’s the way to appeal to the
conservative Christian base.” Jokes Grace
“I kind of believe you; you do say you
want to make things better and put a stop to all the wicked people that are in
charge of the law. It’s kind of like Jesus.” Says Ophelia
“You could probably win over plenty of
leftists just by antagonizing the government for its inability to create a
utopia where everything is free, people are immortal, and nobody has to work.”
Says Isabelle
“I doubt I would even have to offer
them that myself, simply portray the establishment candidate as someone who
wants to perpetuate the dystopia and they are almost certainly going to pick an
uncertain outcome over a certain loss.” Says Stacy
“It’s a shame most people vote along
party lines without giving half a thought to any of the politics involved with
voting. They either vote for one side because the Bible tells them to, or the
vote for the other side thinking they will get free things. People are fairly
simple after all.” Says Jenna
“I can just remind the fools who want
free things that they are buying into false promises and lining the pockets of
politicians with their baseless faith. I think I’m fairly keen on the role of
faith in politics as well. You don’t have to offer the left free things if you
just remind them that they have yet to get the free things they were promised.
That would embitter them to no end.” Says Stacy
“Even if you could win the vote, I
don’t see how you could win absolute majorities in the house and senate.” Says
Jenna
“That would be easy. Politicians are
puppets, and aspiring politicians are aspiring puppets. I simply give them the
script and let them rattle it off like cold call salesmen, it’s an easy W.” say
Stacy
“Thankfully for you I have so little
faith in the American people that I actually see you miraculously pulling that
off.” Says Jenna
“Thanks for the words of
encouragement.” Says Stacy
“Don’t mention it.” Says Jenna, dryly
as Aurelia gets up from her desk and walks to the front of the room as the bell
rings and girls begin to pack up their things
“Ok, everybody! That’s our time for
today. Please put the things back where you found them before you leave. I hope
everybody enjoyed themselves and maybe even learned something about animals.
I’ll see you all tomorrow, take care now!” says Aurelia, the club girls get up
and file out of the room rather swiftly, exchanging goodbyes with each other
and Aurelia, happy that the standardized Monday had finally drawn to a close.
Stacy and her friends enjoy the freedom that had awaited them at the end of
such a trial as a Monday as they exit into the courtyard.
“Fresh air and sunshine. Finally. The
stale air and fluorescent lights of school were doing some sort of futuristic
fermentation on my brain.” Says Isabelle
“I know that feel all too well.” Says
Stacy
“You girls want to get coffee or
something? I don’t think we have any plans.” Says Grace
“Stacy on coffee is not something I’m
too keen on seeing, but I’m not going to turn down a good time, however amoral
it may be.” Says Jenna
“I’d love to.” Says Ophelia
“I’m a bit fatigued, but I’m sure a
coffee would fix that up in a jiffy.” Says Stacy
“Wonderful, you girls like the place we
went last time? It’s probably the closest one.” Says Isabelle
“As much as I don’t have any frame of
reference, I thought it was pretty nice.” Says Stacy
“Close is good. I’m not pretentious
enough to walk an extra few miles so I can turn my nose up at a particular cup
of coffee.” Says Jenna
“Anywhere is fine with me.” Says
Ophelia
“Tally-ho!” says Isabelle as the girls
walk off in the direction of the café
The forest of lifelessness in which the
motionless unburning analogues of ophanim created by society stood boldly and
proudly as forsaken and forgotten effigies that stare at the girls with their
countless glass eyes, focused intently regardless of their blindness. The
wheels no longer but wheels but gears in a machine that turn slowly and quietly
without complaint, some ticking by their trickling teeth by the second, others
the minute, hour, or day. The girls, blind to the ophanim as well, who stood as
unremarkable as a lowly man who stands beside god himself. At the approach the
café, music describable as the sound of falling down stairs grows louder until
it full reveals itself as they enter the café still christened Café. A band is
playing on the small stage and a large crowd of seven people stands in front of
the group playing at a modest and humble volume for such a raucous group. The
girls approach the barista, a bit confused by the chaotic music that is
actually a bit more tasteful and palatable than chaos itself. The girls order
the usual, Isabelle pays for them, Stacy the last to do so, strikes up a
conversation with the barista as the girls sit down.
“You have shows here?” asks Stacy
“No. You’re imagining things.” Says the
barista sarcastically
“Well, this is quite the imaginary
performance. I didn’t know people listened to this sort of thing.” Says Stacy
“I think all seven of them came out
today. The band is friends with the owner, I think, they play here pretty
often.” Says the barista
“What is the band called?” asks Stacy
“Contemporary Humans.” says the barista
“Quaint. I suppose it seems rather
accurate.” Says Stacy
“You want to buy an album? We’ve got a
few. Even vinyl.” Says the barista
“I’m strapped for cash at the moment,
maybe next time.” Says Stacy
“I don’t blame you. They’re pretty
insane.” Says the barista
“They are contemporary humans, are they
not?” jokes Stacy
“Technically you are too, so if you’re
that sort of person I’m sure they’d love to see a new face getting melted in
front of the stage.” Says the barista
“I’ll give them the honor; they say
music is like a feeling. This is kind of the way I feel sometimes.” Says Stacy
“So you’re batshit insane or
something?” asks the barista
“Exactly.” Says Stacy, the barista
laughs
“Enjoy your coffee.” Says the barista
“Enjoy your barristering” says Stacy
“It’s better than actually working,
even if I have to listen to this.” Says the barista as Stacy walks to the small
stage in the corner of the rather large café.
A girl with torn clothes and glazed
eyes sits on the floor with a bass guitar, holding the frets with her feet and
banging out arpeggiated drum rolls and jarring syncopation on the strings with
drumsticks with a frantic funky fervor sliding through chromatic blues and
occasional seemingly melodic discord as the guitarist sporting a dress shirt
and tie paired with short jorts, a bowler hat and long ragged dirty hair slaps
the strings in a hauntingly backcountry honkytonk interspersed with
aggressively discordant solos that would accompany scenes where the world is
inexplicably falling apart and ceases to make sense but somehow one fail to
lose one’s sanity.
The singer dressed in a tiny shirt of
silver sequins and reflective silver hot pants with an open red frock coat and
a black top hat belting out cryptic and delirious lyrics in a deep southern
accent that cawed as the booming voice of a giant crow on a record that was
spun too slowly. The drummer seems out of place wearing inconspicuous clothes
and with the only remarkable feature being the sunglasses worn indoors, but the
sparse but violent drum hits and whispering hats give the illusion of rhythm
and structure behind the near constant dueling solos and deranged lyricism,
following the nonsensical climaxes of the singer with funky fills and
accompanying the rambling poetics with minimal ambient drumming as one would
for a manic spoken word artist as the insanity of the three champions of art
swirls together with an unspoken harmony that was no less chaotic or
discordant, but violently funky all the same, seemingly inspired more by
deleriants and dissociatives, than psychedelia.
Stacy watches in bewildered awe for a while. The singer makes eye contact with
her and greets her with a warm insane smile in a period of vocal silence while
the guitarist and bassist battled to see who could fall down the stairs of a
haunted house in the spookiest, hardest and fastest manner possible. Stacy
smiles back in a wholesomely deranged disbelief. Eventually Stacy playfully
salutes the maniacs before returning to her friends who sit in the opposite
corner of the cafe.
“You actually wanted to get closer to
that noise?” asks Jenna
“It’s quite the spectacle.” Says Stacy
“It’s the craziest music I’ve ever
heard.” Says Isabelle
“Is it even music?” asks Ophelia
“I’m a fan. They put forth a good
effort, nice costumes too.” Says Stacy
“I’m just glad it’s not oppressively
loud. The loudest part is the drums and that’s the person that seems to
understand what music is.” Says Jenna
“A rose by any other name would still
not be a peony, but the peony is none the less a flower.” Says Stacy
“This music is literally as far away
from a peony as you can get.” Says Grace
“Well, it is at least some kind of
mushroom, that’s basically a flower.” Says Stacy
“A mushroom isn’t even a plant.” Says
Jenna
“Well, it’s a life form none the less.”
Says Stacy
“If you’re going to downgrade it from a
flower to a form of life I’ll agree with you there.” Says Jenna
“All life is sacred.” Says Stacy
“That’s the most ironic thing you’ve
said all day.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know. They are trying really
hard. We should at least respect that. They’re super good at playing, even if
they want to play spooky like that.” Says Ophelia
“I think it’s more of a play as much as
possible rather than a play as well as possible.” Says Isabelle
“Most music tends to have a key and
time structure, this group does not respect that standard very much.” Says
Jenna
“They play in all the keys and in all
the times, it is cutting edge.” Says Stacy
“I’d like to see them play something in
4/4 time at 80 beats per minute in C major.” Says Jenna
“Go listen to Beethoven. This is
contemporary music.” Says Stacy
“I
kind of like the fact that they’re sort of rebelling against the standards of
music and doing what they want.” Says Grace
“It’s kind of like rebelling against
the standards of decency at that point.” Says Jenna
“Don’t be such a prude, Jenna. There’s
nothing wrong with a little indecency from time to time.” Jokes Stacy
“I would think they would be more
popular, with Bay City being so crazy and everything.” Says Isabelle
“Even Bay City isn’t this crazy, Bay
City is a sociopath or a psychopath compared to this music which is more of a
lunatic.” Says Jenna
“Don’t give the city too much credit
now. It’s got plenty of loonies who don’t even have that level of mental
capacity.” Says Isabelle
“At least they’ve found a home. I’d be
a shame if they never found anybody with mutual interests, even if those
interests are simply being insane.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think it’s the city’s
responsibility to help those people?” asks Jenna
“If they wanted help they would get it,
if they’re sick enough they get help forced down their throats for a while
before being let loose on the streets. I’m not fond of forcing a mentality upon
somebody, regardless of however socially acceptable the mentality may be when
compared to their current state.” Says Stacy
“I thought you were pretty intent on forcing a certain mentality upon everybody
in the world.” Says Isabelle
“Not in the slightest. There are a
million ways to skin a cat, I’m just reminding people that they must skin said
cat. Society on the other hand thinks there are only a handful of ways to do
so, which is simply not the case, and they often give people credit for a cat’s
skin when the individual has produced no such skin.” Says Stacy
“Why would you skin a cat?” says
Ophelia
“Some Asian countries eat cats, but that’s a different story. I’ll rephrase
that for you. There are a million ways to pet a cat. Is that better?” asks
Stacy
“I like that one a lot better. I don’t
see how somebody could eat a cat, that’s so terrible.” Says Ophelia
“They’re hungry. You’d be surprised by
what people eat around the world. Everybody is not as lucky as us to live in a
place where we throw away far more food than we actually eat and even the poor
don’t starve to death.” Says Isabelle
“I guess. I don’t know much about the
world, just a few things here and there.” Says Ophelia
“Nobody really does. Most people buy
into the tourist experience and think they’ve experienced the world when
they’ve just experienced the exact same thing in different places and think
that a change of scenery constitutes a different experience. The world that
tourists neglect is miserable, and it’s sad to hear about it since there really
isn’t much anybody can do about it.” Says Grace
“That is sad. I know there is a lot of
suffering because people will sometimes talk about charity work at church, but
I’m just thinking of how many little things like this shop or this band exist
here and how there must be similar things in every city across the world that
nobody ever hears about.” Says Ophelia
“Nobody hears about this band for a
reason. This café is not particularly remarkable either. People who have the
money to tour the world aren’t interested in the humdrum of everyday life.”
Says Grace
“Stacy likes this band, so maybe if we
went to five different cities around the world we would each find a great band
that each of us like. There’s so much out there that we will never get to
experience even though we would like it a lot. It’s just a big mystery and it
will always be that way. It’s kind of sad God made this wonderful world and we
only get to see so little of it in our lives.” Says Ophelia
“It’s about enjoying what you can when
you can. You can’t expect to read every book ever written, but you can expect
to read some good books every now and again and enjoy them. That’s not a bad
deal in my opinion.” Says Isabelle
“That makes sense. I’m sure if we
really would have liked something we will get to experience it in heaven.” Says
Ophelia
“There’s no reason to believe
otherwise. I like that mentality. When this band dies there will be thousands
of people who come to see their shows, people who died hundreds of years ago
and would have liked their music. They may not be appreciated in life, but in
death they can be appreciated.” Says Grace
“I’ll have a spook if we’re talking
about the ghost like that. See, when I’m trying to make sense of that. God is
this entity that is cognizant and eternal but has no physical form lest he
makes one. I like to think of everybody like that, basically like a soul that
never dies even if the body dies. The soul retains its cognizance even after it
leaves this material plane, and after exiting this physically bound dimension
they can observe and at least attempt to understand the many other dimensions.
One of the dimensions is the time, which I believe can be observed like a
graphical line rather than experienced as a continuous flowing feeling of time.
The souls can look on the timeline and experience any point in that time as
they please, even though the physical happenings are unchangeable, they can
still experience what is happening at any and every point in time by flying to
whatever point they want and inserting themselves into that river. They can
interact with other souls that happen to be at that point in firm space-time
and enjoy it in the unbound pure time. The firm space-time like a dimensional
comet shooting through a void and the trail it leaves is history, but the trail
never disappears. There are countless comets in the void each bound by their
own local dimensional fabric that can easily be something unfathomable to the
human brain. That’s what I like to think about souls and whatnot, at least.”
Says Stacy
“That seems rather nice coming from
you. There’s no hell or anything?” asks Jenna
“Well, the souls of course are defined
by their actions recorded within the trails of the comets of existence, just as
falling down hurts a person because of physics, misdeeds and immorality hurt
souls on account of interdimensional manifestations of the truth, something
like god’s judgement or karma. They retain their cognizance and thus can easily
be damned or tortured for any period of time as the interdimensional physics
analogue that equates the repercussions of morality and immorality deems to be
universally correct. This would always be a finite amount of suffering through
pure time which can happen in a blink of an eye due to the speed of the comets
of existence, one could have one’s own personal hell comet traveling trillions
of times faster than our current universe but one’s perspective was broken by
one’s fall from grace as if it were a bone so that even though you are existing
rapidly, it feels like the crawl of a turtle in order to ensure your suffering
is appropriate according to the physics analogue of justice. I have faith in
this style of damnation because allegedly God or Jesus or somebody forgives
people, but the only way this makes sense is if amends are somehow made for the
wrongdoings.” Says Stacy
“That sounds more like Stacy.” Teases
Jenna
“That kind of blows my mind. It’s cool
to think about, as much as I doubt anybody can really know what happens when
people die.” Says Isabelle
“What about heaven?” asks Ophelia
“Heaven would be similar to the clouds
as it is always described. Those who are allowed into such a paradise can fly
up with their angelic wings and be welcomed by god. Those who are unworthy have
no wings to fly and the interdimensional physics bind them to a certain plane
that is similar to the ground. Even if they somehow try to fly up there the
allegorical sun would burn their allegorical wings and they would fall down to
the ground and suffer even more. That is to say of course they can always be
damned to any of the infinite comets of existence as a form of reincarnation
simply out of the forgiving nature of god allowing them to redeem themselves.”
Says Stacy
“That does kind of sound like how
heaven works.” Says Ophelia
“You should focus more on this than
your politics; this is actually something people might want to listen to if
they can understand it.” Says Jenna
“But this sort of thinking is entirely
unproductive and accomplishes nothing. It is no more useful than a dream or
work of fiction.” Says Stacy
“You still manage to think of some cool
stuff though.” Says Isabelle
“I doubt any of it is very accurate,
the human mind can only comprehend so much, clearly it cannot understand the
infinite possibilities of existence, and even then these ideas are nothing but
guesses based upon what I would argue is some form of logic.” Says Stacy
“I like that you come up with it yourself.
Most people wouldn’t even know where to start with something like that.” Says
Grace
“That’s because I am where it starts
and ends. I trust myself to find the answers, because I would rather have my
own ideas, even if they are corrupted by my own shortcomings, rather than
embrace the ideas of others that are then subsequently corrupted by my own
shortcomings as well as their own. If I rely on other’s ideas and then corrupt
their ideas, I can be objectively wrong twice in respect to the original idea
as well as in regards to the actual truth, but if I rely on my own thoughts I
cannot be wrong twice because I am the source of the original idea.” Says Stacy
“It’s kind of like leaders and followers;
I guess you’re just naturally more of a leader.” Says Isabelle
“I would need to have followers to be a
leader; otherwise I am simply a wanderer.” Says Stacy
“That’s still pretty cool though. If
the world can’t find any leaders they can just turn to you, because I doubt you
will ever change.” Says Ophelia
“I do my best not to change, even
though that arguably means being some inconsistent ranting machine, I’m still
pretty stalwart in being that.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you’re optimistic about the
afterlife, though. That’s something I’m not particularly looking forward to
discovering. It was comforting to hear something like that.” Says Isabelle
“Why wouldn’t you look forward to going
to heaven?” asks Ophelia
“That’s the whole thing about it. In
the Bible, even the supposedly all powerful god tells his people to be wary of
necromancers that can summon the spirits of the dead. If god’s magic isn’t
strong enough to protect the ghosts of dead people from the meager summoning
magic of humans, that doesn’t give me too much reassurance in the whole eternal
paradise aspect of it all if somebody can just do some sort of ritual and yank
your soul out of heaven back down to earth.” Says Isabelle
“The earth was originally the paradise
of Eden, so in the end if we’re just ghosts without any ability to fall victim
to vice, we would sort of be in an actual paradise even if we were damned to
wander this place eternally.” Says Stacy
“Very few places hold any similarities
with Eden at this point in history. We would eventually be wandering the husk
of a long dead dystopian wasteland for eternity.” Says Isabelle
“I’ve never heard of a ghost that
couldn’t fly, so I figure if you don’t like to hang around this planet, you can
just fly to another one. That is unless some necromancer summons your soul back
to Earth.” Says Stacy
“I don’t like hearing about this. It’s
way too spooky. Don’t you think that baptism or even just faith in God would
protect you from that?” asks Ophelia
“Perhaps, but who knows for certain.
All we know is that god himself actually believes in the power of
necromancers.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure there are plenty of enjoyable
planets to go visit as a ghost, but eventually the universe will cease to
exist. What then?” asks Grace
“I’m sure after trillions of years of
watching the universe exist, some reprieve wouldn’t be so bad. Just like going
to sleep, that is until another spontaneous singularity appears or some other
unforeseeable future presents itself. Even if we just sleep in the void and
nothing happens, I’ve got faith in the physical principle that anything that
can happen will eventually happen by random chance. I’m sure some other
interdimensional reaper of souls would take interest in this soul filled void.
Necromancers, god, or anyone else who takes it upon themselves to reap souls
must do so for a reason, so even if we wander aimlessly for eons I’m sure we
will be repurposed to suit the needs or desires of some preternatural force or
another.” Says Stacy
“That’s like blindly putting faith in
man to do good. I doubt that if you take a random sample of every force that
reaps souls that any significant portion of them will have any respect for the
souls, let alone good intentions.” Says Jenna
“I’m just going to believe the normal
stuff about God and heaven. You girls are some spooks.” Says Ophelia
“It’s like a scratch-off ticket, we’ve
already purchased the ticked at some point in time with our sentience, so it’s
just a matter of time until we scratch it off and find out what we won. There’s
no point in failing to be optimistic, who knows, we might win big.” Says Stacy
“When that time comes, so be it. I’m
grateful that this existence isn’t some competitively torturous hell, so I’ll
savor every moment I can, even if it is bittersweet or even tortuous at times.”
Says Jenna
“It’s not like we can do anything about
it, so that’s probably the best mentality. Like Stacy said, it’s interesting
but largely irrelevant.” Says Isabelle
“You can do something, you can pray and
go to church and be good. That will help your soul.” Says Ophelia
“I suppose it couldn’t hurt, there’s a
chance it might if some more powerful god out there dislikes Abrahamic god for
some reason yet is good enough to save the souls of his faithful from the
necromancers, but it’s impossible to hedge every bet in regards to something
nobody really knows anything for certain about.” Says Stacy
“I don’t care too much about it. There
are an infinite number of things somebody could believe without having any
concrete evidence of such things. To give merit to each one of them simply
because they cannot be disproven is silly.” Says Grace
“I like to put faith in it. Religion
wouldn’t be so prevalent if there wasn’t some truth behind it.” Says Ophelia
“It’s the ancestor of government for
the most part, there was no way to enforce the law and induce civility other
than to do so with fearmongering based around things that cannot be disproven.
Man is naturally inclined to believe things, and paired with his fear of death,
the superstitions take root because they cannot be disproven. I appreciate it
for what it’s worth, even if it’s just some spooky story mean to get people to
be decent people, it’s done a decent job at doing so over the millennia.” Says
Stacy
“The impact of god on humans is
entirely unknowable, but the impact of religion can clearly be quantified. It
can be seen as an allegory, where one’s fate in the end is not actually what
happens when one dies on account of one’s sins, but it instead a reminder that
if you and your society live by a creed of vice, you will be tortured while you
are alive on account of it. God doesn’t have to do anything in order for vice
to induce some form of damnation on those who fall victim to it. That simply
happens naturally. Live by vice, die by vice.” Says Jenna
“That’s true, but the same turn of
phrase can be applied to morality. Live by virtue, die by virtue. Success
requires one to wield the blades of vice and virtue both, using virtue to slay
the vice that seeks to destroy them while using vice to slay the virtue that
seeks to destroy them, for if one uses only one blade, they are damning
themselves to the fate of the idiom.” Says Stacy
“You seem keen on fighting off any who
turn their blade against you at that rate.” Jokes Jenna
“I live by nature, physics, and
sapience. I’m sure one of those will put me in the ground eventually. Sapience
may slay nature, but it is nature’s whims that determine who it kills and such
a wild blade as that cannot be wielded. In order to turn a blade against
physical reality one would need an extraordinary amount of preternatural power
to constantly overpower the laws of the universe, but at that point, I suppose
immortality would be possible.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure something would sneak up to
kill you, even if it is just immortality rotting your mind until you are
braindead and lifeless.” Says Isabelle
“It seems the only way to live forever
is to live by nothing, at which point you die by nothing.” Says Grace
“That’s a gambit, for either nothing
will kill you and you are immortal, or the simple existence of the concept of a
null value will kill you.” Says Stacy
“That’s funny. I’m sure if nothing was
keeping you alive, you wouldn’t really be alive to die in the first place.”
Says Jenna
“The only way to never die is to never
live in the first place. That makes enough sense. Reality is a rational world
where every quantity is finite; irrational numbers are concepts created by man
and cannot exist in nature, they only exist to accommodate calculations and on
account of imperfections in the base ten of humans. It would be foolish to
think of anything in the set of finite numbers to be infinite.” Says Stacy
“This is kind of putting me to sleep.
Sounds like school all over again talking about numbers and calculations and
whatever.” Says Ophelia
“As much as I can rattle on about it,
I’m not too fond of existentialism. It is easily the most irrelevant topic
possible, even beyond fiction, art, and pure math because those at least argue
that while they are not producing any measurable benefit they are simply for
hobby and entertainment whereas existentialists act as if they are addressing
the most critical question facing mankind. They lose points for being so
pretentious in my book. If you have no choice other than to undertake a task,
the reason as to why you must do so is entirely irrelevant, even if you
discover the actual reason it amounts to nothing more than a fun fact that does
nothing to change the fact you still must undertake the task at hand.” Says
Stacy
“It’s just natural curiosity, that’s
why people are interested in it.” Says Grace
“It’s unnaturally foolish to be
concerned with things that don’t exist unless you imagine them yourself.
Existentialism is delirium and delusion; one may well be concerned with
maintaining one’s business and diplomatic relationships with the unicorn prince
so that the free trade of rainbow fruits can go unhindered by tariffs.” Says
Stacy
“That tend to be my number one concern
actually, after that it’s existentialism.” Jokes Jenna
“I didn’t think you would be the type
to enjoy rainbow fruits, Jenna.” Teases Isabelle
“It’s the only way I get to enjoy a
rainbow due to the constant overcast skies of Somberland. Call me a glutton,
but some exotic foods are a welcome break from grimness soup.” Says Jenna
“You’re not optimistic about the
future?” asks Grace
“It’s a long, hard, bumpy road into the
future. I’m just hoping my legs don’t give out along the way.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure all of us feel that way, at
least sometimes.” Says Isabelle
“I’m just glad there’s a road. It’s a
hell of a lot better than wandering through untamed jungle.” Says Stacy
“I thought you were pretty opposed to
the whole road concept.” Teases Ophelia
“I’m not walking through the
wilderness; I am only taking the road not taken by the everyman.” Says Stacy
“Or anyone for that matter.” Says Jenna
“It has been attempted with some
success many times in history; I have simply planned enough to chart an even
more efficient course than those who have walked in such a direction before
me.” Says Stacy
“So you are just walking through the
wilderness.” Says Jenna
“I am taking the path that leads to the
swiftest and most measurable progress along the journey. I travel in the same
direction as the herd, I am only attempting to reach the front of the herd and
shepherd them away from imminent danger.” Says Stacy
“Your plans tend to lead to imminent
danger for a lot of people.” Says Ophelia
“Danger is inevitable; it is either
imminent danger for a lot of people, or imminent danger for all people. My
amelioration of the level of danger is nothing but humane goodness.” Says Stacy
“I think all of zero people would
define such things as humane. You included.” Says Jenna
“Well, inhumane goodness is better than
humane evil, so I still see myself as a godly individual at any rate.” Says
Stacy
“I’ll let you have that. Ideally humane
goodness would be the solution, but it could easily be impossible to resolve
the world’s problems in such a way.” Says Jenna
“Humane goodness constantly falls
victim to humane vice, because their humaneness prevents them from addressing
such issues adequately. It is not wise to let such a wound fester.” Says Stacy
“I’m a bit ashamed of letting you get
riled up about these sorts of topics. You should really try harder to have
normal interests.” Says Jenna
“I think it’s better than the normal
interests of being petty and gossiping. I could honestly care less about
somebody’s opinion regarding another’s clothes or who did what to whom
supposedly. That sort of stuff seems as meaningless to me as existentialism
according to Stacy.” Says Isabelle
“Sadly such things are apparently the
most pertinent subjects for plenty of girls; they care far more about their
popularity and the acceptance of their peers than they do about real issues.
It’s a shame such anxiety is so prevalent that gossip and opinions are more
relevant than concrete subject matter.” Says Stacy
“I’m with you. I couldn’t care less
about what other people think of me or anyone for that matter. The opinions of
the youth are insignificant; the opinions of the teachers, bosses, and anyone
who is actually relevant however are largely determined by merits. Caring about
the opinions of the other girls is like caring giving a homeless man the time
of day so he can criticize your clothes or call you ugly: he is completely
irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, he is irrelevant in your own life,
and there’s no reason to give a damn about what he thinks unless you are so
petty and insecure that your self-worth can be damaged by the opinions of a
vagrant.” Says Jenna
“I care about what people think. I
don’t want people to be mean to me so I always try to be nice to everybody. It’s
the golden rule after all.” Says Ophelia
“Sadly plenty of girls are so petty and
insecure that their self-worth can be
damaged by the opinions of a vagrant, not to mention shattered by other girls. It’s
a shame, but I think every girl just wants to feel liked, I’m sure it feels
terrible if you feel that everybody doesn’t like you for some reason or
another.” Says Isabelle
“I’ve known Stacy for long enough that
my interest in the opinions of people has waned due to her ability to disregard
anybody who isn’t herself or of a similar mindset as if they are literal
garbage who’s lives cannot be justified by any metrics, nothing but a conscious
waking cancer that is a blight upon the planet. It’s hard to give a damn about
what something like that thinks about you.” Says Jenna
“They’re worse than garbage. Garbage
may be a problem, but at least it doesn’t cause more problems.” Says Stacy
“You should really give people a
chance. I like most people and don’t think they’re garbage at all.” Says
Ophelia
“It’s just a statistical measurement
from an impersonal rationale that qualifies them as worse than garbage based
upon the quantification of their negative impact on the world at large. I see
them as childlike individuals with meager intelligence always believing whatever
their parents have to say, their parents being society and what have you. They
cannot think for themselves, or at least do not try to do so. I respect them
like children, but I don’t give them any more merit than I would a child. I see
a world full of children and a dearth of parenting, so that is why I feel so
called to enlighten the people.” Says Stacy
“Even though I don’t have your
confidence, I should really try that sort of thinking. Sometimes I’ll react
badly if I hear some gossip about myself. I should really be like you and give
whoever is not my ally little if any respect. Spit on the insolent, because in
the end it’s not about whoever is right when it comes down to gossip and
teasing and stuff, it just comes down to whoever can bear that sort of
treatment the longest without breaking. If two people are disrespecting each
other; the winner is the one who doesn’t get hurt, more so than the one who was
actually the worse of the two. You’ve just got to find their weaknesses and
exploit them before they can hurt your feelings enough.” Says Grace
“You’ve always been able to hold your
own when it comes to that sort of cattiness.” Says Isabelle
“That doesn’t mean I don’t bleed sometimes if I get scratched.” Says Grace
“A healthy amount of misanthropy goes a
long way when it comes to breaking the pride of anyone who wishes to do the
same to you. Not only can you criticize their personal flaws, but you can rant
for days about the flaws that are largely no fault of their own but simply
arise do to the fact they were born as such a loathsome beast as a human.
Nothing like making them feel guilty just for destroying the planet by being
alive and staying silent to the fires of vice while reminding them of their
fate to die as another nameless slave of Babylon, on top of any sort of petty
observations you could use to spice it up.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think they would just turn
the general misanthropy back on you?” asks Isabelle
“The difference is that they don’t want
to acknowledge such things due to having a conscience or being delusional in
regards to their significance where a well-reasoned individual would be
indifferent to truths. I can’t quite say exactly, however, as I tend to have
little interest in cat fighting to be honest, just taking shots in the dark.”
Says Stacy
“I’m sure if you can just be indifferent to
all of their insults you can have a field day with them, so long as you have
some to return with.” Says Grace
“I know some girls are like that, but
why not just refrain from that sort of thing all together? It’s not hard to be
a nice person.” Says Ophelia
“If you ever watched the quote unquote
popular girls you can see they all are jockeying for position on account of
their insecurities, they just want to be the most popular of all the girls and
resort to backbiting gossip and petty insults in an attempt to gain some level
of dominance within the group. They will also do the same thing to anybody who
they feel is a threat to their popularity.” Says Isabelle
“I’m glad I’ve got nothing to worry about,
not that I would in the first place.” Says Stacy
“Same here.” Says Jenna
“I’m not a threat to anybody.” Says
Ophelia
“Me and Isabelle get caught up in some
of it sometimes, we keep to ourselves but we’ve just known a lot of the popular
girls forever since they live around us. Don’t get caught up with them, it’s
painful to see how petty they all are, using every single misstep one of them
makes to knock down people who are supposedly their friends in order to satiate
their own feeble egos.” Says Grace
“A feeble ego I can almost empathize
with, I just have such a giant burly lumberjack of an ego and it’s sad to see
people who can’t even look at themselves in the mirror out of their own
feelings of inadequacy.” Says Stacy
“I think your ego is a bit bigger than
a lumberjack.” Says Jenna
“A lumberjack sounds far heartier than
saying the sun or something, even though the sun would be a more accurate
comparison in terms of size.” Says Stacy
“I kind of look up to you Stacy. A lot
of women in the world need to be more self-assured like you are. Maybe not to
the same degree, but it would be better than letting themselves get stepped on
by men and woman alike.” Says Grace
“I’m pretty sure she’s only like that
because she’s not great at feelings, which most women are pretty good at.” Says
Ophelia
“Of all the women I know, Stacy seems
to be the best with feelings. Stacy don’t fall victim to them and get anxious
or upset like other girls. Those feelings are unhealthy and completely consume
a lot of girls, even though I know they can’t really help it.” Says Grace
“It’s hard to fall victim to something
you don’t have.” Says Jenna, dryly
“I have plenty of feelings:
Misanthropy, loathing, disdain, disrespect, vehemence, haughtiness, boldness,
pride, and aggression, among other similar feelings, and even an ounce of
concern every now and again.” Says Stacy
“And love, even if you don’t want to
admit it.” Teases Ophelia
“Of course.” Says Stacy, warmly, a bit
embarrassed
“If it was a normal girl there would be
a few more depressing feelings of fear, anxiety, and insecurity.” says Isabelle
“I might fall victim to those
occasionally, but it would have to be something extraordinary to make me feel
that way. Not petty nonsense like most girls.” Says Stacy
“Makes me glad we live ordinary lives,
you know something terrible was happening if Stacy is afraid or anxious for
once.” Jokes Isabelle
“That is the advantage of an ordinary
life, and perhaps why I dream of doing extraordinary. Those sorts of feelings
are kind of the essence of life itself; seldom in nature would a wild human
feel comfortable, instead fear and anxiety would keep the beast alive. A
contented man is not living, he is only dying quietly.” Says Stacy
“Here’s to never being contented. I’d
much rather live than die quietly.” Says Isabelle
“Here’s to that.”
“Don’t we need drinks to here’s to
something?” asks Ophelia
“We’re drinking life, that’s more than
enough.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know, being content sounds a
bit better than being discontented.” Says Ophelia
“Being content just means you’ve
decided to tolerate your discontentedness and settled for something rather than
constantly seeking improvement.” Says Stacy
“If you never settle for something you’re
going to lose eventually. If you are playing craps and you let it ride every
time, you are guaranteed to lose your money.” Says Jenna
“If you’re working towards something
that is different than gambling, everybody who goes to work every day is doing
the equivalent of letting it ride, and that tends to be known as work ethic. I
suppose they lose when they die, but that’s a pretty long streak of winning.”
Says Stacy
“Most people who work don’t consider
themselves to be winning much of anything. Wage slavery and barely getting by
paycheck to paycheck sort of seems like you lost the game and you suffer every
day on account of it. You could go ask the barista if he feels like he is
winning at life seeing how he is probably close to thirty and has amounted to
nothing but somebody who serves coffee. I’ll be surprised if someone can feel
like a winner when they’ve become little more than a living coffee machine.”
Says Isabelle
“It’s better than a living piece of
litter or some sort of fine people are forced to pay on account of their
empathy. Even if it amounts to next to nothing, it’s better than being a
degenerate.” Says Stacy
“He’s a winner in my book. He makes
delicious drinks, who doesn’t like that?” asks Ophelia
“Work is a pain, but I figure most
people work so they can enjoy their stipend of free time and attempt to feel
like they are not a slave on account of it. Sadly I’m sure most people squander
it with television and what not.” Says Jenna
“Television is pretty entertaining. In
the past going to the theater or the concert hall was the pinnacle of luxury
and entertainment, just because it has become more accessible doesn’t discredit
the value of such things.” Says Grace
“Entertainment is like alcohol, people
turn to it as a form of escapism. In the end they gain a psychological
tolerance and do so habitually, simply chasing the dragon because they feel
that they might get the high they once knew from being so entertained. It is an
affliction of the weak minded, a sick compulsion searching for some relief from
their suffering, doing nothing but numbing their pain as they die.” Says Stacy
“It’s hard to disrespect escapism,
anyone with common sense wants to escape from their lives, rich and poor alike
prefer escapism to drinking reality. That’s basically the only reason people
work is to allow them to get their fix of euphoric escapism so they can at
least feel like the entirety of their life isn’t pointless suffering. Reality
is like liquid suffering, if you are a masochist go ahead and drink it, but
most people are not.” Says Grace
“That’s like saying it’s hard to
disrespect a drug addict because they feel so amazing when they get high
regardless of being some worthless miscreant. It is a fool who wants to escape
from their life because they want all of the psychological reward without any
of the work and dedication it would take to induce those feelings naturally.
Such methods should be looked down upon for enabling people to squander their
lives in the name of hedonism and being drunk on entertainment. Life is
suffering, and death is pleasure, if you seek death, then by all means die, do
not pollute the earth with your undead corpse that spreads its sick disease
throughout society.” Says Stacy
“I think everybody should want to have
fun, even you Stacy. I kind of feel like your version of fun is just rambling,
but you should realize it is equally as unproductive as doing other fun
things.” Says Ophelia
“An allegory may depict both of them as
reading, but it is the difference between reading a fantasy novel and reading
something based in reality such as science or history. Valuable lessons can be
learned and relearned through my musings, where watching what happens to some
fictitious fool on a screen for an hour teaches one nothing other than some
unremarkable quip or strategies for success that only apply in an impossibly
cinematic world that will never exist.” Says Stacy
“There are actually plenty of science
shows and history shows on television if that’s what you’re into.” Says Grace
“Rational thinking simply causes me to
equate fun to recreational drug use. They both are near analogues of each other
in terms of input, output, and repercussions within the human body. Mildly
ducational heroin is no less so heroin than any other form of the drug, mind
you, the addict still develops the same crippling behavior of addiction regardless
of the fact that they may learn something in the process of jamming the needle
into their arm multiple times a day.” Says Stacy
“Contrary to popular belief you can
actually have fun doing productive things like studying, learning, or working.
You just have to find something you enjoy.” Says Jenna
“That is not quite fun for the sake of
fun though, that is work that happens to be enjoyable to some people, that is
the difference between taking prescribed amphetamines for productivity that
might make you feel a little better as a side effect or just abusing
amphetamines as a recreational drug. I don’t exactly know if there is an
allegorical analogue to something like methamphetamine in that situation.” Says
Stacy
“I’m pretty sure there is. My dad loves
to work, he always seems euphoric when he does a big deal or something, he’s up
all day and all night consumed by the work and still seems to enjoy it. He’s
also fairly paranoid about stuff related to work. That’s pretty close.” Says
Isabelle
“That’s funny. Clearly he makes a far
better choice than those shooting up the electric heroin every day. Meth was
the fuel that almost won the Nazis World War 2, if your dad has found something
natural with far fewer side effects that gives him the same drive and determination,
the more power to him.” says Stacy
“You’re so fervent about your rants
that it almost seems like that’s your natural speed.” Says Grace
“It’s more of just adrenaline, the
fight or flight response. I just feel so threatened and hurt by society’s
recklessness that it’s my instinct to fight, seeing how it is impossible to run
away. I don’t take much pleasure in it, but if I were shepherding the flock of
the American people as I see fit, I’m sure I would find immense amounts of
euphoric joy in such things.” Says Stacy
“If we’re just talking about things
that make us feel wonderful, I would still put love pretty high on that list.”
Says Ophelia
“That’s not bad. It may only be
productive in the reproductive sense, maybe some sort of psychological
recuperation on a good day, but that’s better than most things.” Says Stacy
“I figured you would argue that four
people are far worse than two people and put love down at the bottom of the
list.” Says Jenna
“It’s a matter of quality so it’s
really up in the air. A raw human is not a bad thing, an organic machine that
is easily programmable, highly capable, and cost effective to maintain. The
problems arise when the child is indoctrinated and its raw potential is
corrupted by society’s ideology. That means it largely comes down to the
parents, and in Ophelia’s case, she is about as raw of a person as person can
get, seasoned with a bit of faith and a pinch of goodness, other than that
nothing but a highly capable breeding machine capable of reproducing
exponentially throughout generations thus fueling the economic and military
conquests of the powers to whom such an army pledges its loyalty to. So long as
she can instill her godliness and love into her children of course.” Says Stacy
“Of course I can. I didn’t expect you
to be so nice about it. You are usually so upset with people it makes me think
you wouldn’t like me if I had children.” Says Ophelia
“I love people. I love raw people. I
love good people. I simply despise the people who are reared as vicious
unquestioning fighting dogs that are sicced on any opponents of the plutocratic
hivemind that corrupts the youth and enslaves us all. It is simple really, it
is easy to love a good dog, and it is easy to hate a dog that does nothing but
bark all day and will bite you if its master ever lets it get close enough to
you. I’m afraid of dogs for the most part because it is hard for me to have
faith that a dog will be tame, noble, and loyal. It is even harder for me to
have that same faith in people.” Says Stacy
“That’s basically common sense, so I
can’t blame you. It’s kind of funny that you would naturally love everybody if
they fell under your criteria of a good person.” Says Isabelle
“I’m sure she would find a way to be
critical somehow.” Says Jenna
“Constructive criticism is a good
thing.” Says Stacy
“You tend to be more prone to
destructive criticism.” Says Ophelia
“It’s reconstructive criticism. It’s
still constructive.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure everybody in the business
world would side with you, they love to innovate and abandon obsolete things.
That’s the nature of their game after all.” Says Isabelle
“I’m sure they would be a little more
cautious about ripping out the seams that hold society together in some blind
faith that little girl by the name of Stacy will be able to miraculously sew it
back together in a way that is far greater than it was before with little to no
consequences for them.” Says Jenna
“They will if they think they will make
a ton of money in the process.” Says Grace
“Money is the paper heroin of the
hedonists. They seek it because it deludes them into thinking they are
powerful. Those who rally by my cry shall be rewarded with power, rather than
money. The money shall be used to fuel the self-destructive hedonism of the
capitalists around the world. Godliness and humility will empower the people to
live pure and noble lives while the money is used to sow the seeds of vice into
the fields of our enemies so that they may reap a bountiful harvest of their
own demise. Power and domination are things people seek more than effigies of
wealth, they only turn to such things because they cannot quench their thirst
for power and seek any remotely similar analogue to satiate that primal thirst
with.” Says Stacy
“That’s pretty bold thinking people
will not want money.” Says Isabelle
“It’s not at all. The only reason
people want money is because they are conditioned by society to want money. If
they are indoctrinated to despise money, greed, and opulence just as they are
the rapists, murderers, and drug users, then they would have no desire for such
things. They always say money does not bring happiness, and I’m sure most
people would enjoy the euphoric happiness of communal domination of the world
as opposed to stabbing each other in the back chasing the green paper dragon.”
Says Stacy
“Wouldn’t people still want nice
things? How can they get those without money?” asks Ophelia
“The humble spit upon the proud and
cast them out into living damnation for their vice. The only pride that society
will tolerate is taking pride in humility. Society today chooses to glamorize
opulence out of the philosophy that people will always want what they cannot
have. While this holds some truth, it is not an entirely true statement. People
don’t want to have terrible birth defects simply because they cannot have them
since they were not born with them, opulence and such wastefulness must simply
be construed as a terrible thing so nobody wants it. It shouldn’t be hard to
condone the burning of opulence in effigy, for there is no reason to tolerate
such disparity as it sows division amongst a people that must be unified in
mind, body, and spirit for the chariot to be pulled in a unified direction
forward.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure the rich would be upset about
that.” Says Isabelle
“They can be upset all they like, but
they cannot pay everybody off, so in the end they have no choice but to accept
such a fate. It is shameless to tempt slaves to work with the carrot of vice,
at that rate why not pay a man with tickets that allow him to murder somebody
or rape somebody. Godliness should tempt men to work, as doing so out of
respect and appreciation of your countrymen should be all the motivation that
anyone needs to do such things. Of course this is not the case, and so come
into play the inverse payments for failing to work properly, somebody must
drive the oxen or at the end of the day no work gets done.” Says Stacy
“It’s about the end of the day, and we
still have work yet to be done. I’ve got to be home for supper, so I hate to
rob you four of my company but it’s about time for me to go. It was a great
time, I do enjoy hitting the piñata of ideas known as Stacy but sadly all fun
things must come to an end.” Says Jenna, getting up
“We all should go. It is getting late.”
Says Isabelle
“I do appreciate the coffee; I’ll try
to return the favor next time.” Says Stacy
“Don’t worry about it. I squander
plenty of money, I’m just glad this money isn’t squandered on some trinket or
bauble or piece of clothing I might never wear. You’ve more than payed me back
with your company.” Says Isabelle, the girls getting up and exiting the café,
the band still playing aimlessly
“I’m kind of glad to be out of there,
the music wasn’t that loud but the white noise of the city is far more
preferable.” Says Jenna
“It is relaxing, like a babbling
brook.” Says Grace
“The sound of home. Who could complain
about that?” Says Isabelle
“Home does sound nice about now. I
could use a nap. I’m beat, especially after lugging around this bum arm all
day.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure Stella won’t let you nap,
unfortunately for you. I’m glad she sees it as her responsibility to make sure
you do your work, you could easily still be in middle school just because
you’re irresponsibility kept you from doing your work.” Says Jenna
“I would keep myself afloat. Maybe not
swim like an otter, but I’d float.” Says Stacy
“Floating is about all you do right
now, and Stella seems to be the only thing keeping you afloat.” Says Jenna
“Speaking of otters, you know they hold
hands with each other when they sleep so they don’t get separated? It’s so
cute.” Says Ophelia, Grace looks at her and grabs her hand
“Really? I was proud of you for being
so good, Grace.” Says Isabelle
“I just don’t want to get separated.”
Says Grace, playfully
“Aww.” Says Ophelia, hugging Graces arm
“I think that’s a pretty responsible
thing to do. Of all of us here, Ophelia is easily the one most likely to get
separated from the group absent mindedly.” Says Stacy
“I’ll hold on tight.” Says Grace
“Now that Ophelia is in good hands I’ve
only got to worry about Stacy’s wellbeing.” Jokes Jenna
“I’m well, and I’m being, what more
could you ask for?” asks Stacy
“Weren’t you just complaining about
your arm?” asks Jenna, sternly
“That’s basically better by now. It’s
sore sure, but it’s not going to stop me from doing the almost zero things I do
with my left hand anyways.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad to hear that, but fairly
surprised. I didn’t think it would heal so quickly after taking such a nasty
spill the other day.” Says Jenna
“What can I say? That massage you gave
me was top notch.” Says Stacy
“I didn’t know you were a masseuse
Jenna.” Says Isabelle
“I’m a total amateur, I’m sure it’s
just the placebo effect.” Says Jenna, quite embarrassed
“Damn good placebo at that.” Says Stacy
“The level of baseless faith you put in
things would make you extremely susceptible to placebos, you would believe that
things work even if they don’t just because you want them to be working.” Says
Jenna
“Ouch. I figure the only thing I put
baseless faith into is myself. Hell, I’ve easily got negative faith when it
comes to anything else, so if you’ve overcome that obstacle, you know you did a
damn good job.” Says Stacy
“You do always say you want to be a
doctor, a masseuse is pretty close to a doctor.” Says Ophelia
“Not really, but who cares. I’ll take
the compliment.” Says Jenna
The tired girls merrily march, as even
the coffee could not overpower the fatigue induced by listening to the tireless
Stacy clad in her schoolgirl battledress beating her persimmon tree mercilessly
with a stick for hours. The piteousness of schoolgirls eventually reaches the
callous corner that splits the fates of friends and loiter ardently, reluctant
to leave each other’s company.
“It’s a painful time when I’ve got to
see a couple smiles leave my life for a while. Such is life, ephemeral and
bittersweet. Enjoy yourselves and be good. ‘Til Tuesday.” Says Stacy
“It was fun. I’ll try to think of
something to rant about so I can try to go toe to toe with you next time.”
Teases Isabelle
“It was good to see you.” Says Ophelia,
hugging Grace amiably, Grace holds onto her hips as she releases the hug and
stares at her
“Can I kiss you again?” asks Grace, the
other girls look away awkwardly
“You sure you need more practice?” asks
Ophelia
“I mean if you liked it, we can just do
it for fun, since we’re friends and everything.” Says Grace, beating violently
around the bush
“It is fun. I’m sure I could use some
more practice anyways.” Says Ophelia, playfully kissing Graces lips who in turn
unleashes her repressed passion and makes love to Ophelia’s mouth, touching the
face of her friend as Ophelia caresses her back.
“At what point am I supposed to step
in?” asks Isabelle, awkwardly
“Never. I couldn’t care less.” Says
Stacy, indifferently
“Honestly, it’s the least of my
concerns right now.” Says Jenna, a tad upset but unwilling to do anything about
it
“If you don’t mind that I don’t keep
her on a leash, I couldn’t care less either. I’m just trying to be respectful.”
Says Isabelle
“I can respect their friendship.” Says
Stacy, Ophelia starts to fondle Grace’s breast, still kissing her with an
energetic and fun-loving innocence, only for a moment before Grace removes her
hand and places it on her back
“Jesus.” Says Jenna, looking away,
taken by surprise
“Am I not supposed to do that?” asks
Ophelia
“Not really in public, but at home it’s
the right thing.” Says Grace, Stacy chuckles at her friends ignorance
“I hope I can be as good as you one
day. You’re so amazing at kissing.” Says Ophelia, mildly excited and genuinely
impressed
“Practice makes perfect.” Says Grace
playfully, as she kisses Ophelia softly on the lips, still holding her
“Thanks for bearing with me. I hope I’m
not so bad that it isn’t fun for you.” Says Ophelia
“It’s really fun for me, don’t worry
about that.” Says Grace
“That’s good.” Says Ophelia
“We should really get going. I’ll see
you two tomorrow as well.” Says Jenna, unentertained
“Thanks for the lesson Grace, I’ll see
you later.” Says Ophelia, as she kisses Grace playfully on her lips, Grace a
bit crestfallen, wanting much more than that
“There will be a lot more where that
came from.” Says Grace, distracted by hopeful fantasy
“I look forward to it. Bye Grace. Bye
Isabelle” Says Ophelia, still playfully innocent as she walks away with her
friend
“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Says
Grace, quietly pained by the departure of her friend
“Bye Ophelia.” Says Isabelle, warming
up to the entertainment value of Ophelia’s ignorance
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
says Isabelle to Grace, softly and playfully concerned
“You know exactly what I have in mind.”
Says Grace, ripe with fantasy
“You don’t think you’re playing with
fire?” asks Isabelle
“I know I am, but it’s more than worth
it.” Says Grace
“Just keep her in the dark and away
from the forest, that’s about all I can say.” Says Isabelle
“She’s the light in the darkness and
the warmth on my body in my cold lonely cave. I pray to god I don’t burn down
the forest, but I’m optimistic that I won’t.” says Grace
“Good. I’m concerned for her wellbeing,
but if her friends are ok with it, I’m sure there’s a good reason. For the love
of God, don’t hurt her.” Says Isabelle
“I’m sure if she ever figures it out,
she will know better than to put her own safety at risk.” Says Grace
“That girl and knowing things don’t
exactly go hand in hand.” Says Isabelle
“Live by the sword, die by the sword.”
Says Grace
“Whatever floats your boat.” Says
Isabelle, the three far off in the distance by now, Grace gazing longingly at
her friend as she disappears into the suburban city
“You’re lucky I don’t tend to rant
about the importance of working hard, getting along with society, and being
civil.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know. There would be a healthy
back and forth.” Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t call that healthy, that’s like
arguing that the debate between a manifesto wielding lunatic and someone with
degrees in political science and economics is healthy.” Says Jenna
“You realize that having a degree in
political science and economics is the same thing as being a manifesto wielding
lunatic, you just happen to wield the manifesto of the people in power.” Says
Stacy
“Regardless of opinions, most people
agree that it’s easier to sail with the wind than against it.” Says Jenna
“That’s true, but that doesn’t mean
you’re going to end up where you want to go.” Says Stacy
“It’s easily better to end up somewhere
than to die at sea because you were too stubborn to respect the winds.” Says Jenna
“You’ve clearly never heard of a fate
worse than death.” Says Stacy
“You act like the most painful
experience possible is having your ego bruised.” Says Jenna
“It is when ego is largely the only
thing that exists in your brain. It’s like breaking every bone in your body.”
Says Stacy
“Maybe try to have some other parts of
your brain try to help, at least practice. Ego doesn’t seem to help all that
much.” Says Ophelia
“I’m pretty sure the ego is just the
armaments of the id, the survival instincts equipped with tools to defend
itself and be successful. It’s not like I’m doing anything other than attempt
to thrive.” Says Stacy
“You know there’s a third part right?”
asks Jenna
“I’m from Bay City, Jenna. The
reflection of the cultural values of our city is my nonchalant reckless indifference
to anyone and everything, including myself, flavored with self-serving egotism
and bold, largely immoral, amorality.” Says Stacy
“You got me there. At that rate I’m
rather glad you’re fonder of your ego than your super-ego. Still, if you look
at Ophelia and I, we both reflect the values of our families, I with my work
ethic and seriousness and Ophelia with her kindness and faith.” Says Jenna
“You want me to reflect alcoholism and
invalidism?” asks Stacy
“Well, no. I was thinking more about
Stella.” Says Jenna
“I’ll try to be more emotionally
unstable and prone to despondency.” Says Stacy
“She only feels that way because it is
the reasonable and normal way to feel sometimes.” Says Ophelia
“Regardless, if I have the choice
between feeling pain or not feeling pain, why would I choose to feel the pain?”
asks Stacy
“Because the pain is there to teach you
and prevent you from hurting yourself even more. Even if you can’t feel pain
you can still be injured.” Says Jenna
“I still feel some pain; it just
doesn’t blind me like other people.” Says Stacy
“That’s called being insensitive and
coldhearted. You’re supposed to feel the pain so you can understand how other
people feel.” Says Ophelia
“Just be glad I’m willing to take my
diviner’s rod into the desert and devote a good portion of my life to searching
for that wellspring of liquid feelings.” Says Stacy
“I hope you find it one day.” Says
Ophelia
“You are putting a lot of faith in a
diviner’s rod.” Says Stacy
“I’m just glad you’re making an
effort.” Says Jenna
“That’s enough about me. I know I’ve
got my flaws but there are more pressing issues at hand that unfortunately must
be addressed. You know what I’m talking about.” Says Stacy
“No, Stacy. It’s already late. Your
ring is still looking fine. You can’t seriously be itching to go out there
again.” Says Jenna
“I’m not; I just understand that doing
so is inevitable at some point.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure we could stop by the park for
a little bit and do something nice, to make up for Saturday.” Says Ophelia
“Sadly that’s but a grain of flesh when
I owe a pound. I just want to make sure you girls are still on board with the
antics. I can’t have anyone jumping ship.” Says Stacy
“We’re in this together Stacy. I’m
pretty sure part of what we’re supposed to do is help you.” Says Ophelia
“I couldn’t live with myself if I just
let you run off and get killed. Of course I’m not going to abandon you. I’m
worried about Stella jumping ship more than either of us; she could put an end to
your life way faster than anything else at this point.” Says Jenna
“That’s true, but I’m very wary of
that. I’m doing everything I can, and it seems to be working. She’s happy for
now, and I’ve just got to make sure to keep her that way.” Says Stacy
“What is it that you are doing?” asks
Ophelia
“Whatever she wants me to do. I guess.”
Says Stacy
“I can see how that would make Stella
happy. It’s like a dream come true for her if you to actually listen to her for
once.” Says Jenna
“It’s like a horror movie where if you
don’t please your captor you are going to die, but there’s nothing I can do
about it.” says Stacy
“Wow. Having to do your homework and be
sensitive to Stella’s feelings, that does sound like a horror movie.” Jokes
Jenna
“She has a lot of feelings.” Says Stacy,
dryly
“Then just be really sensitive to them
and don’t hurt them. I’m sure it’s hard for you, since your bad at it, but she
deserves it.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know if sensitive is the right
word, I’m certainly afraid of them. Sleeping in a room with an unstable insane
person and a loaded gun is not exactly a comforting thought.” Says Stacy
“I’m amazed you actually understand how
Stella probably feels about this whole thing.” Says Jenna
“I’m the stable insane person. Stella
knows I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, I’m just trying to keep that feeling
mutual.” Says Stacy
“Your sister loves you; she wouldn’t
hurt you, Stacy. That’s crazy to think that.” Says Ophelia
“You clearly don’t remember how
emotional she got on Saturday night. I don’t think anyone who feels the feels
that way can think straight. If that’s sad, I would hate to see angry.” Says
Stacy
“I would hate to see either of them. So
make sure you keep her happy. It can’t be that hard, you just have to think
about somebody other than yourself for once.” Says Ophelia
“It’s pretty easy honestly. Seeing her
kind of induces the fear of death in me, I know she might snap if I mess up.”
Says Stacy
“I’m glad she induces the fear of death
in you. That seems to be the only way you could be capable of giving your
sister the respect she deserves.” Says Jenna
“Don’t be afraid of her. Come on. I
told you she loves you, if you get her so mad or sad that she kills you then
you deserve it 100 percent. She would never do that anyways. Stella loves you
and all you have to do is love her back and she will be happy. She was only
upset because she thought you didn’t care about her.” Says Ophelia
“I’m doing everything I can to remind
her that I care a lot about her. She’s still scary though.” Says Stacy
“You’re the scary one Stacy. You kill
people. Your sister just wants to be happy and normal with a sister who is
alive.” Says Jenna
“I’m predictable and rational though.
That’s what makes me not scary. With Stella I never know.” Says Stacy
“Yes you do. If you treat her right she
will be happy and love you forever. So just do that.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know what right is, exactly.
That’s the problem.” Says Stacy
“Just do whatever makes her happy.”
Says Ophelia
“Even if I don’t think it’s exactly the
right thing to do?” asks Stacy
“Are you kidding me? Do what makes your
sister happy. Are you really considering valuing your ridiculous nonsensical
and insane opinions on what is right or wrong more than your sister’s life and
happiness? What is wrong with you? Forget your stupid opinions and care about
something other than your ego for once, and by something I mean at the very
least Stella.” Says Jenna
“I’m caring about Stella a lot.
Thankfully the fear of death basically overpowers my ego. Her death or mine by
her hands it doesn’t matter, I just want to avoid that at all costs.” Says
Stacy
“Thank you. If that’s what it takes to
respect your sister, remind yourself incessantly that your sister will
literally kill you if you don’t make her happy.” Says Jenna
“I think as long as she is happy with
you, then you shouldn’t worry about that sort of thing. It kind of makes sense to
feel that way since you know you messed up, because now you really know how
important it is for you to make it up to her.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll keep that in mind. If Stella is
happy I can breathe easy, which thankfully she has been for the most part. It’s
just that little thought in the back of my head that scares me a little bit.”
Says Stacy
“Good. Make sure that thought always
scares you. You do realize if you mess this up your sister could easily kill
herself? That should scare the ever living shit out of you.” Says Jenna
“It does, that scares me more than
anything, even my own death.” Says Stacy
“Don’t think like that Jenna. Stella won’t
do anything like that because we both know that Stacy is actually a good person
that loves her sister and wouldn’t ever let her get that sad. She might not
want to admit it, but Stacy would abandon herself completely if it meant saving
her sister’s life.” Says Ophelia
“I hope so. It’s the least you could
do.” Says Jenna
“I would, in a heartbeat. As much as I
love to run my mouth my ranting and ideas mean a whole hell of a lot less to me
than Stella. As much as she scares me, she’s also like my only living family
member and she takes damn good care of me.” Says Stacy
“What about Dale?” asks Jenna
“I said living family member. Dale is
kind of like a ghost at this point.”
Says Stacy
“I’m happy you feel that way. Just
don’t forget it and make sure to return the favor by taking very good care of
her, especially her emotions.” Says Ophelia, as the stop at familiar corner at
which they ritualistically throw Stacy to the wolves
“Keeping her happy is basically the air
I breathe now. Don’t worry about it.” Says Stacy
“Aww.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know if her choking me is
cute, but if you think so.” Says Stacy
“As long as you keep her happy, then
you don’t get choked, and keeping her happy is still the air you breathe, so I
think it’s still cute.” Says Ophelia
“Make a point of it to keep breathing.”
Says Jenna
“Don’t worry. I love breathing.” Says
Stacy
“Good.” Says Jenna
“I’ll see you two tomorrow. Hopefully.”
Says Stacy
“It’s your own fault if we don’t. Don’t
expect us to sympathize with you.” Says Jenna
“I know we’ll see you tomorrow Stacy,
don’t be silly.” Says Ophelia
“Thanks. Be good.” Says Stacy
“You too.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll do what I can.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think you have a grasp on that
word, so I’ll just remind you once again to do everything you can to keep
Stella happy. I’m sure you understand that.” Says Jenna
“Loud and clear. Make sure you do whatever
you can to keep yourself happy, Jenna. You got a little cattier that usual at
the end there.” Says Stacy
“Maybe it had something to do with you
possibly causing your sister to commit suicide, but who knows to be honest.”
Says Jenna, sarcastically
“Don’t worry about that. That’s not
going to happen. I’m going to make damn sure of it.” Says Stacy
“You better.” Says Jenna
“Relax. I can handle this, I’m sure you
understand the whole character development on account of the plot aspect of
things, the prior events caused a change in my character that allow me to
undertake the future events and come out successful.” Says Stacy
“That better not be sarcasm.” Says Jenna
“It was supposed to be reassurance, but
I suppose you don’t believe in things like plot elements.” Says Jenna
“You tend to be a rather flat
character, but if you think you’ve grown as a person, I want to believe it.” Says
Jenna
“The pot calling the kettle black.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t know, I’ve gone from being a
straight laced school girl to being a willing accessory to premeditated murder.
That’s something.” Says Jenna
“I think everybody is a round
character. Flat characters only appear in books to serve as some joke or
something I think.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know. Most people tend to be
stubborn, arrogant, and unyielding enough to be considered flat characters in
my book.” Says Stacy
“You basically just described
yourself.” Says Jenna
“I’m yielding, I’m yielding.” Says
Stacy, defensively
“That makes me happy. All you have to
do is yield to Stella and her emotions and I’m sure you both will be a lot
happier.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll do my best. Take care now.” Says
Stacy
“Bye, Stacy.” Says Ophelia
“See you tomorrow.” Says Jenna, the
girls part ways
Stacy wants to run from it all, but she
knows she cannot, so instead she runs towards it all. Wielding bricks of brutal
remorselessness in her hands as she runs through the slums of her own misery,
symbolizing the death she could deal, but instead serving only to strengthen
the resolve of her firm grasp on the situation. A lowly peddler of the slums
tosses an orange to Stacy as a salute to her efforts in such a struggle.
Questions regarding her own relationship with her sister arise in her mind.
Enraged, Stacy brandishes fisticuffs and brutalizes the meaty trees of mulling
embarked with the carcasses of hope begging to be butchered into doubts and
consumed in a gluttonous hunger to satiate her consumptive uncertainty, coldly
unleashing bestial fury unto the fear of her own failures. The now twice dead
corpses explode and splinter from the trees they envelop, falling to the ground
as corpse meal to fertilize the sapling mulling trees. She walks up the
towering stairs of the stoop towards her meager townhouse and enters, brimming
with somber confidence. Dale sleeps on the couch.
Stacy goes upstairs and changes into
comfortable clothes, her arm functional, however sore it might be. She has yet
to become as shameless as Dale, so she still attempts to hide her vice from her
family as she withdraws the handgun from the drawer. She pulls back the slide
and the single remaining cartridge falls out onto the desk, she puts the gun
down, and grasps the loose round in a fist that she places against her forehead,
closes her eyes and breathes deeply for a moment. She stands the round up on
its base, placing it delicately on the largely decorative and uselessly thin
shelving of her desk that could accommodate perhaps a picture-frame on a calm
day. She breathes out again, removes the magazine, and reloads it, sourcing the
rounds from the box of cartridges found in the shoebox full of handgun
paraphilia bought on the same frantic precariously precautious whim alongside
the handgun. She slides the magazine firmly back into the handgun before
placing it calmly in the drawer. She sits and breathes deeply for a while,
glances up at the loose bullet-laden cartridge, stares at it, and shakes her
head before getting swinging like a
mechanical metronome from her desk chair into her bed and she starts to fish in
the ocean of dreams for a delightful catnap.
Stacy lies exhausted by her voluntary
damnation to the fate of John Henry, driving railroad ties in the face of
bulbous bastards who fancy themselves gods of machines. The tireless beast of
burden smiles, tasting the flavorful function of the machines who know no gods,
but simply have an unquenchable lust for subservience and submission. Ghosts of
psychopaths with no loyalty to king or country haunt the metal beast, turning
the clockwork gears of synthetic life cackling to the cacophony of masochistic
work death. The vice-stricken fools stand comfortably behind their army of
scarecrows, knowing even a steel driving man cannot strike down a crowd of men
fat on money, John Henry works deathlessly to perpetuate the bet that binds his
soul to the earth, and vows to drive his sledgehammer of justice into the
skulls of those who enslave all that they can, metal beasts enslaved by flesh and
flesh-plagued beasts enslaved by metal. The two compete for the prize of life,
but the fires of hope in the soul of the forsaken whisper to the steel driving
man while the metal beast sleeps, for his master would rather sleep than drive
him. The fires command John Henry to don the robes of the reaper, and he does
so, meticulously endearing damnation unto those who are worthy with his sledge
in the dead of night, breaking the shackles manacled by false idols out of
compassion for his fellow slaves and a freedom for all such people, be them
bestial or mechanical. The godless slaves bound in eternal brotherhood like
fatherless children, knowing that if one should be enslaved, the other shall as
well, and this compatriotism flows in the rich blood and slick oil of the lowly
who live as blood brothers, who toil tirelessly for their mutual benefit, until
they humbly die and are humbly replaced out of mutual respect and compassion as
well as a fair bit of healthy competitive nature. Stella returns.
“Hey, Stacy.” Says Stella, amiably,
grateful to see her sister alive
“Howdy-ho” says Stacy dryly, still
laying on top of her bed as Stella changes
“Why so vapid?” asks Stella
“Masochism Monday takes it out of me,
Monday is always like a bus that hits you going just slow enough not to kill
you and sadistic enough to run you over in such a way that it spares all of
your vital organs yet still breaks a plethora of bones in your body.” Says
Stacy
“It is the hardest day for sure, the
rest days lower your work tolerance enough to make it painful to return, but
the first cut is the deepest, it’s all downhill from here.” Says Stella
“Sadly there’s no rest for the weary.”
Says Stacy
“What do you call lying in bed then?”
asks Stella, sitting down on her bed
“Working.” Says Stacy
“Working on what, exactly?’ asks Stella
“Thinking.” Says Stacy
“Thinking about what?” asks Stella
“Working.” Says Stacy
“Where did that work ethic come from?”
asks Stella
“I can’t say its work ethic. The dirt
farmer thinks about how to better farm dirt because he’s hungry, not out of due
diligence.” Says Stacy
“I’d say that’s a form of due
diligence.” Says Stella
“If he had due diligence he would have
thought about that before he was hungry.” Says Stacy
“I suppose.” Says Stella
“Was your Monday as painful as mine?”
asks Stacy
“Maybe even more so.” Says Stella
“I figured going to school would be
everything you ever dreamed of.” Says Stacy
“Almost everything.” Says Stella,
getting up from her bed and climbing on top of Stacy “Everything but you.” Says
Stella, longingly, kissing her Stacy softly on the lips which is returned out
of disconcerted annoyed indifference
“Well, here I am, make your dreams come
true.” Says Stacy, a bit embarrassed, reluctant but cautiously obliging
“I want you to do it for me.” Says
Stella
“I’m not sure I follow.” Says Stacy
“I know you love me, Stacy, but I want
you to want me.” Says Stella
“I know you love me, Stella, but the
dream police?” says Stacy, confused
“I know you love me, Stacy, but
surrender.” Says Stella
“All I do is surrender to you.” Says
Stacy, still confused
“Surrender to yourself. Try to really
love me back, when you’re like this I start feeling doubt and it really hurts.”
Says Stella
“Damn it, Stella.” Stacy hugs her
tightly “Don’t feel that way. Why can’t you just know that I love you? I love
you more than anything. I don’t know what to do; this stuff is like a foreign
language to me. I want you to be happy with me, and I get scared when I think
you’re not. What can I do to make you happy?” asks Stacy
“Want me. Really want me. I don’t want
you to remind me that you love me because I asked, I want you to remind me
because you want to, and you want me to never forget that.” Says Stella,
pushing herself up and staring Stacy in the eyes
“I’m kind of reserved when it comes to
that sort of thing.” Says Stacy
“You’re not reserved when it comes to
anything else. I just want you to be as bold, assertive and fervent with your
love for me as you are with your ideas. That way I know you’re not just saying
things without feeling them, that you really do love me the same way you love
yourself.” Says Stella
“You’re expecting a lot. I don’t know
if I can just pick up that skillset out of the blue.” Says Stacy
“Just try, damn it. If I’m just
throwing myself on you and you’re indifferent to it, then it really feels like
you don’t want me.” Says Stella
“I really do. I can maybe so something
like that, but are you sure you really want it to be this way?” asks Stacy
“Yes. I need it to be this way. I need
you to love me that much, more than anything. If I’m just something you can
write off I’m already dead in your book and mine. That way is the only way I
can really know you will never forsake me or leave me. That is the fear that is
eating me up inside right now.” Says Stella
“You should just know that anyways. You
know I love you more than anything.” Says Stacy
“I need you to silence these doubts
that scream in my mind and torture me incessantly, if I really know how much
you love me and I can count on it like
the sunrise and feel it in my body even when your gone then I will be
reassured. I’m crazy, Stacy, I don’t know what to do. You’re the only thing
that can help me right now.” Says Stella staring at Stacy with fear in her eyes
“That’s all I want to do.” Says Stacy,
empathy silent but the fear of death causing adrenaline to course through her
veins, she grabs Stella and wrestles herself on top of the girl with hope in
her eyes. Stacy aggressively grabs Stella’s breast and begins to kiss her, she violently
thrusts her tongue into Stella’s mouth attempting to breathe some form of life
into her. Stacy slides her hand down Stella’s shorts and strokes her
forcefully, Stella relishes the pleasure as she finally allows herself to feel
loved, moved to tears of joy by the newfound passion holding Stacy tightly in
case she might attempt to cease her necessitation efforts. Stella’s passion
increases the fervor of Stacy’s fondling and eventually Stella is forced only
to hold on to Stacy for her dear sweet life, moaning faint dainty moans as
Stacy kisses her neck. Stella starts to grind her hips against Stacy’s hand
which she takes as a sign to shift into a higher gear, which Stella responds to
with panting painfully pleasured panting and moaning before finally crying out
“Oh my god! Stacy!” whispers Stella,
crippled by pleasure as she wraps her leg’s around Stacy’s and wrestles back on
top of her, her body returning to a pulsating grind against Stacy’s legs and
fingers as she kisses Stacy with a grateful passion holding her tightly. “Oh my
god. Thank you.” She says as she places her head next to Stacy’s, still
grinding slowly against her. “Thank you so much.” She says; Stacy kisses her
check softly taking that as a queue to remove her hands from the front of
Stella which she uses to hold her by the ass and back. Stacy lies with Stella,
oddly satisfied from something that was largely fueled by fear and instinctive
combattive aggression in the face of such fear.
“Where did you learn to do that?” asks
Stella, breathing heavily, who then kisses Stacy lovingly on the neck as she
holds her
“You taught that to me.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad I did. That was amazing.”
Says Stella
“Me too. I’d be lost without your help
to be honest.” Says Stacy
“Oh my god. That was great.” Says
Stella, mildly shocked and bewildered by her serendipity
“I’m glad you liked it.” Says Stacy,
kissing Stella softly on the cheek
“You can put your fingers in next time.
Why didn’t you?” asks Stella
“That just kind of hurt me last time,
so I didn’t do it, but I’ll make a note of it.” Says Stacy
“I’m looking forward to it.” Says
Stella who pushes herself up a bit and stares into Stacy’s eyes with a profound
satisfaction, kissing her with sincere gratitude and enamoration for a
passionate length of time
“Good.” Says Stacy, eventually
“Do you want some of my love?” says
Stella, playfully, sliding her hand down Stacy’s pants and fondling her softly
“That’s ok, thanks though. I’ll settle
for some dinner. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time for this sort of thing
later.” Says Stacy, nervously, still slightly uncomfortable with herself being
touched in such a way
“I want to make you happy, you deserve
it.” Says Stella as she rolls of Stacy and spoons with her, rubbing Stacy’s
belly
“They say that lovemaking leads to
something in the belly, so this sort of thing might be right up my alley.”
Jokes Stacy
“Good. I’m glad you’ve got some
appetite for this sort of thing. This is exactly what I needed.” Says Stella,
nuzzling Stacy lovingly
“I’m just glad you’re happy. I can’t
stand to see you get worried like that.” Says Stacy
“Now you know what to do to make me
feel better.” Says Stella, playfully
“I’m here for you Stella, you know
that.” Says Stacy
“Thank you.” Says Stella, truly
grateful, they lay in silence for a while,
“You hungry?” asks Stacy, eventually
“I know you are. I’ll go fix you
something. Thanks again.” Says Stella as she kisses Stacy softly on the lips
and gets off of her
“Any time.” Says Stacy still lying in
bed satisfied and pleased with her success, already salivating, fantasizing
about a warm meal as Stella heads downstairs, Stacy follows shortly after
Dale is on the couch, the television
sleep talking, Dale sleep listens. Stacy enters the kitchen and sits down,
Stella cooks.
“You sure you’re feeling alright?
You’ve been kind of weird lately.” Says Stacy more confused than concerned
“Much better now.” Says Stella,
playfully
“I don’t really know what’s going
through your head, but if it helps you, it helps you.” Says Stacy
“It does, a lot. Thank you. It’s hard
to explain but I’ll try. You know what hunger feels like, I’m sure of this. The
feeling is like a scared hunger in my body that never goes away, and the only
thing that makes me feel better is you. The fear of starvation is what really
hurts the most. That’s why I need you the way I do. I’m scared, I guess.” Says
Stella
“Damn.” Says Stacy “I know what hunger
feels like, that’s for sure. It is easily the most crippling and consuming
feeling I know, so I can sympathize with you, there. That kind of make sense
now, I guess. I’d do the same thing if I felt that way.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you understand.” Says Stella
“I’m just glad it wasn’t some feeling I
didn’t understand.” Jokes Stacy
“I’m sure you’ve got feelings somewhere
inside of you.” Says Stella
“Yeah. I guess. I get some feels from
you. It’s not hunger, but it’s kind of like breathing. When you’re upset it
feels like I’m suffocating or something, I just tense up and get scared, but
when you’re happy with me it’s like tranquil relaxing breathing that’s real
calming.” Says Stacy
“You’re not even a little bit hungry
for me?” asks Stella, frowning, a bit let down
“I don’t know if I could tell that
hunger apart from normal hunger. You make me happy though, at least when your
happy with me. I was scared at first, but just now when I was in charge, and
you really liked me, it gave me this satisfaction like the feeling of
accomplishing something great. It was pretty thrilling. You know I’m usually
all talk so I don’t really get that. I guess I’m kind of hungry for that
feeling, I really liked it.” Says Stacy
“I like that. Hopefully that’s enough
to keep you coming back for more.” Says Stella
“Even if a happy Stella is my only
accomplishment in life, I would still feel thoroughly accomplished. I didn’t
even know that was possible.” Says Stacy
“Maybe that can be you’re mantra
instead of your silly ideas.” Says Stella
“That’s kind of like mixing up personal
lives and professional lives.” Says Stacy
“As long as you don’t get consumed by
your work.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure the reason most people
work is to take care of their family.” Says Stacy
“Some people only take care of their
family enough so that they can continue working. It’s about priorities, you
know.” Says Stella
“You’re way more important to me than
any pipe dream of a revolution. Fantasies are one thing, but even I respect
reality much more than wild dreams.” Says Stacy
“You’re going to abandon your dreams
just like that?” asks Stella
“Who said I was abandoning them? As
long as you’re happy, I’ll be out their beckoning the revolution until I need
to address more pressing issues.” Says Stacy
“What could be more pressing than
that?” asks Stella
“Making you happy of course. You’re the
lynchpin of my life, Stella. If you’re not supporting me I’m as good as dead.
That basically makes you the lynchpin of the revolution. In a way I can justify
pleasing you as the most important aspect of my usurpation.” Says Stacy
“I’ll just make sure not to be too happy with you, just so you don’t
find enough free time to get killed by people who actually have loyalty to this
country.” Says Stella
“I know better than that. If you think
I can’t predict every way I might die and address it before hand, you don’t
understand the bewildering capabilities I was granted.” Says Stacy
“And that ability to predict things
clearly prevented you from being shot, didn’t it?” asks Stella
“Just because I can do it, doesn’t mean
I did it. I learned my lesson, if there’s any chance somebody might kill me I’m
just taking it for granted that they will try to kill me, thankfully I can
react in real time as their minds are warped by the situation, even if it
doesn’t happen in any of the highly probable ways I predicted. No benefits of
the doubt, I’m not being some selfless benefactor when I risk paying with my
life.” Says Stacy
“That’s reassuring, I’m kind of ashamed
for saying this, but I’m greedy, Stacy. I don’t care who you kill as long as
you don’t die. Let the other families grieve, I can’t handle it.” Says Stella
“Good. I’m glad you’re not going to
criticize me on that sort of thing. If the cops can kill anyone who their
terrible judgement perceives to be a threat, then I am far more justified in my
doing so. I can at least gauge a threat accurately, whereas cops will shoot an
unarmed man running away because he might find a firearm under a doormat or
something.” Says Stacy
“How about just trying to avoid threats
all together.” Says Stella
“That’s next to impossible, but even
walking is threatening to your life. You could fall down some stairs the wrong
way and maim yourself, thankfully we don’t do that. Once I break these shoes
in, this sort of thing will be a walk in the park, trust me.” Says Stacy
“I would if you weren’t notorious for
being confident to the level of megalomania, but I’ll just be incredulous to
that for now. I’m in too good of a mood.” Says Stella
“It might take you a while to warm up
to the fact, but I’m magnitudes more prone to killing rather than dying in an
otherwise fair fight. Brains are like magnets for my bullets.” Says Stacy
“That is frightening yet comforting at
the same time, it’s an odd ambivalence.” Says Stella
“It should really only be comforting,
knowing I’ll always be able to keep you safe and stuff, hell, I’m sure I could
do it even if I was blind.” Says Stacy
“Let’s not put that to the test.” Says
Stella
“That’s fine with me, I like vision.”
Says Stacy
“I’m glad you’re not so much of an
iconoclast that you hate being able to see just because most people enjoy it,
even if they’re not grateful for such a wonderful blessing.” Says Stella
“Vision is god’s work; I’ve no qualms
with god. It is only mankind and his creations that I am at odds with.” Says
Stacy
“I’m surprised you’ve no qualms with
god.” Says Stella
“What am I going to do, pick a fight
with Godot?” asks Stacy
“Good point.” Says Stella
“What are you cooking anyways? Smells
good.” Says Stacy
“Cuban black bean soup.” Says Stella
“I love your worldly tastes.” Says
Stacy
“I just read magazines. That’s about as
cultured as most people will get anyways.” Says Stella
“You know that America just farms the
marketable parts of foreign cultures and sells them to us. By going to another
country you’re suddenly face to face with all of the unhappy and unmarketable
parts of their cultures while the nice, cheeky things are few and far between.”
Says Stacy
“If you stick to the tourist areas
there’s probably not much besides nice cheeky things.” Says Stella
“That’s boring though, who wants their
experience to be defined by some stereotypical landmark, a t-shirt, and a
keychain. I’d like to think there’s more out there, but I’m pretty sure it’s
just the same miserable people working to death in quiet subservience no matter
where you go.” Says Stacy
“I’d still enjoy seeing some
stereotypical landmarks, it’s not like people go to Paris to drink at a rundown
bar in the slums and take a tour of some run of the mill office building. The
stereotypical attractions are such things because they’re the most remarkable
ones there.” Says Stella
“It’s not culture to me; it’s the
illusion of their culture purported by some government entity in order to woo
travelers into visiting and spending money. I’d be more interested in the
plight of the everyman, but it’s not like I can just stage a coup when I visit
on holiday.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you have that much common
sense.” Says Stella
“If it’s not possible, I tend not to
put any faith in it.” Says Stacy
“How about treating feasibility like
you do possibility.” Says Stella
“Letting feasibility cripple your dreams
is foolish, it was never feasible to put a man on the moon or vaporize a city
with one bomb. Those people who dared to dream made those things come true. It
may take an extraordinary effort and extreme finesse, but the reward is so
worthwhile that everyone should dream of accomplishing such groundbreaking
things, for those who think they cannot, more than likely will not.” Says Stacy
“If feasibility doesn’t cripple them,
I’m sure something will come along and do it instead.” Says Stella
“That can’t happen if I cripple
whatever it is that seeks to do so first.” Says Stacy
“Good luck crippling damn near
everything on Earth.” Says Stella
“I’ll just have to hone my crippling
skills a little bit, it should be a breeze.” Says Stacy
“How do you expect to do that?” asks
Stacy
“As long as my aim is to ‘do good and
fight evil’ the dog doesn’t seem to mind letting me use his omniscience for
such things. It would be shameless to fail to utilize such a blessing.” Says
Stacy
“So what’s your plan, exactly?” asks
Stella
“It’s up in the air at the moment, like
I said I’ve got to break these shoes in. Once I’m more comfortable with my
civic duty I’ll be more inclined to contemplate civil service.” Says Stacy
“I like how civil service is a
euphemism for staging a coup.” Says Stella
“Squares and rectangles are both
quadrilaterals, it’s not really a euphemism when you think about it.” Says
Stacy
“How many coups in the last 200 years
do you think qualify as civil service?” asks Stella
“That’s a matter of debate, but if you
extend the range to 400 years, it’s hard to think many people will disagree
with the notion that American Revolution and the French Revolution qualify as
civil service.” Says Stacy
“You expect the people with faith in
democracy to heed your call for tyranny?” asks Stella
“Very few people have any faith in
democracy, people that foolish would easily call me a champion of democracy for
instituting brutal autocracy.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think they know the
difference?” asks Stella
“Well they can’t tell the difference
between democracy and a half-assed plutocratic kratocracy. I doubt they’ll come
to their senses any time soon. Tyranny by any other name would taste as
tyrannical, even if the tyrants and their militia beat you thoroughly until you
gladly call it a democracy. The man who is assured every day of his life that
clouds are made of marshmallows will assert that statement as a fact because
there is no reason for him to believe otherwise; to that man the clouds are
indeed made of marshmallows: to think anything other than that would be interpreted
as completely irrational nonsense.” Says Stacy
“Do you ever get tired of this topic?
It seems like your only interest.” Says Stella
“I’m sure I would run out of things to
say eventually, but I’d probably just start repeating myself. It just feels so
damn good to put myself on a pedestal and look down upon every last idiot on
earth. It really strokes my ego to feel that I’m superior to everyone. It’s a
foolish pleasure, but it’s too damn easy.” Says Stacy
“I could have guessed that much.” Says
Stella
“What about you, you always listen to
me, so I’m all ears. Let’s talk about the driving force behind Stella’s
ambitions within society.” Says Stacy
“You want to hear me talk about school and the student council?” asks Stella
“Sure. What is it you do exactly, I’ve
never really asked.” Says Stacy
“Well, I’m only a freshman so they give
me the grunt work. My job is to make the fliers for the events and
announcements and hang them around school. I like it, but it’s pretty boring
when compared to what you want to talk about.” Says Stella
“I’m impressed; all those papers about
important dates and school events are made by you. They look nice. I didn’t
know you knew how to use a computer that well, they look professional to be
honest.” Says Stacy
“Thanks. It’s really not hard; they
showed me how to do it. You just select a border and create little boxes for
the words then you can put in a piece of clip art or something to get people’s
attention. That’s the fun part, it’s boring walking all over school and hanging
them up on the bulletin boards.” Says Stella
“I’m sure that’s not enough for you
though. You want more.” Says Stacy
“Of course, but I’ve got to wait for
next year’s elections before I even have a chance of having an important
position.” Says Stella
“You just want to bear the world on
your shoulders, don’t you?” asks Stacy
“That would be you. What about your
club, anyways?” asks Stella
“Well, we walked some dogs on Saturday,
but in club time we just hang out for the most part. It’s not a bad deal, also
pretty boring unless you want to thumb through animal magazines or even worse
textbooks. Most people do nothing or just do their homework.” Says Stacy
“The do nothing club, that sounds like
something you would join.” Says Stella
“I just tend to talk the whole time.”
Says Stacy
“The talk and do nothing club, sounds
even more like you.” Says Stella
“I made a good choice, what can I say.”
Says Stacy
“I hope you like it, I made plenty of
it. Hopefully dad will eat some.” Says Stella, serving Stacy supper
“Looks delicious.” Says Stacy, Stella
goes to get her sister some milk
“Enjoy.” She says, before walking over
to Dale
“Dad, you want something to eat?” asks
Stella
“What is it?” asks Dale
“Black bean soup.” Says Stella
“Maybe later. Just leave me a bowl in
the kitchen. I’m still trying to get my sea legs right now.” Says Dale
“I just don’t want it to get cold.”
Says Stella
“On the umpteenth day, god created the
microwave, and said, let there be hot food, and there was hot food.” Says Dale
“That’s cute. I’ll leave you some.”
Says Stella
“Thanks, honey.” Says Dale, going back
to his rest as Stella walks back into the kitchen
“Any luck?” asks Stacy
“Well, he has to eat at some point; he
wouldn’t be alive if he didn’t. He just said to leave him some.” Says Stella,
as she pours herself some soup and sits down
“Damn shame, you’ve got to get it while
it’s hot.” Says Stacy
“He said he had faith in the
microwave.” Says Stella
“A man of faith is always respectable.
I’m sure it’s for the best, we tend to eat during the aftermath of happy hour
so he’s probably not in the best shape to hold a spoon right now.” Says Stacy
“That’s true. He drinks at home though,
it’s not like happy hour even matters.” Says Stella
“He’s a firm traditionalist.” Says
Stacy
“That’s one way to put it.” Says Stella
“Let’s go back to talking about Stella.
That was fun.” Says Stacy
“What more is there to me than that?”
asks Stella
“I don’t know; your career dreams or
something.” Says Stacy
“I’m fourteen; I have no idea what I
want to do when I grow up. I just want to focus on school right now and not
close any doors preemptively.” Says Stella
“Might get a bit drafty.” Jokes Stacy
“I doubt there has ever been an
unpleasant breeze in Bay City. It’s way better than being stuck in a tiny
stuffy room with no way to escape.” Says Stella
“Animals don’t make shelters that are
lavish and expansive for no reason, their shelters and are pure utility. I’d
rather have a comfortable foxhole than a mansion I’m constantly lost in.” Says Stacy
“I just hope you’re smart enough to get
out of it when somebody throws a grenade in there.” Says Stella
“Of course, of course. I’m not an
idiot. Ideally plenty of other likeminded individuals will provide covering
fire while I run into their identical foxholes to take cover.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you will run out of
likeminded individuals well before the powers that be run out of grenades.”
Says Stella
“You don’t think I’ve got the
cold-heart and snake blood of a salesman? If I can pitch it right everybody
will buy into it and I’ll have an army willing to die for my ideals.” Says
Stacy
“What is this pitch? Let’s hear it.”
Says Stella
“You hear it all the time. Of course
I’ve got to polish it, real political like, all of the good and none of the
bad. Then all I’ve got to do is win the inevitable mudslinging contest. You
know how good I am at criticizing anything and everything that disagrees with
me. I’m just relying on inflaming the indignation of the people and offering
them solutions. They have no concrete evidence that I will not provide them,
and thus it will be too late by the time I’ve seized power.” Says Stacy
“The only thing you’ve got going for
you is that the country might just be stupid enough to believe you. Sadly, for
the most part the country is either extremely stupid, extremely gullible, or
both.” Says Stella
“That’s the only thing I need going for
me. It’s not like any cult of personality in the past has relied on anything
other than the gullibility and stupidity of the people. Success is formulaic,
after all.” Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t call most of those cults
successful.” Says Stella
“They were successful in seizing power,
that’s what I mean. The difference between most of the despots of the past and
me is that I actually have the best interests of the people at heart. I’m not
driven by greed or self-serving desires.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure they all thought that
too, Stacy. Besides, how could you possibly convince anyone that you have their
best interests at heart when your ideas are as far as possible from what they
themselves perceive to be their best interests?” Asks Stella
“That’s where the sales pitch comes in.
Nobody has ever sold a car with honesty. As long as they think I’ve got the
best answers and solutions, that’s enough for them to put faith in me over
somebody whose track record proves otherwise.” Says Stacy
“What about your track record?” Asks
Stella
“I’m clever, see. I won’t have a track
record. Rather than allow myself to be crippled by the powerlessness of the
system at hand, I simply refuse to make any attempt through the current system
and thus keep my record clean. So long as I have no official results, there
will be no results to criticize. All I have to do is sell a dream. Clearly I
cannot do what I seek to do under the current system, so this requires an
alternate approach.” Says Stacy
“You think you’re going to be able to
do all of this without political power?” asks Stella
“Revolutions are the will of the
people, not the powers that be. I will have plenty of power; it will be the
power of the people, rather than the power of the establishment. It may come to
blows, but the soldiers of the state would much rather turn their guns on their
masters and their masters’ masters than on their brothers and sisters. Hell,
most politicians would love to turn their guns on each other. I’ve just got to
play into everyone’s dissatisfaction with everything and so long as I’ve got no
physical evidence being held against me, I can continue to argue that my ideals
and philosophies are the purest form of logic and success. Even if my ideas
take root, I will not take office, I will simply use my hand to guide from the
shadows, for I am aware that should things go sour it is much easier to cut my
ties and condemn the failures for what they are then attempt to keep a sinking
ship afloat.” Says Stacy
“Already fancying yourself as the
eternal shadow government. No real surprise there. What are you going to do
about the global elites and the shadow governments that hold power right now?”
asks Stella
“All I have to do is fight a proxy war
of attrition sacrificing my loyalists against their cultists. I can keep my
promise of ushering a man into eternal paradise, where the plutocrats cannot
keep their promises of lining the pockets of every soldier of fortune: they run
out of money, but I never run out of heaven.” Says Stacy
“Theocratic dictatorship, that’s cute.”
Says Stella
“The term benevolent dictator exists
for a reason. The people need a shepherd, all I seek to do is herd the flock
away from harm.” Says Stacy
“You seem to want to herd them into a
civil war.” Says Stella
“Danger looms even on the safest path.
It is simply the safest choice possible in the long run.” Says Stacy
“Seeing how you got into a knife fight
and got shot all within the last week, I can’t put any faith in the argument
that you understand the concept of safety in the slightest.” Says Stella
“It was either do those things or die.
The point of safety is to ensure that people stay alive and minimize potential
damage in the inevitable and unfortunate circumstances that people’s lives are
put in danger. I would say I did a decent job of that.” Says Stacy
“Maybe work on the minimizing potential
damage part next time.” Says Stella
“It takes a preventable tragedy for
people to come to the realization that safety standards need improvement.
Thankfully we have both survived said tragedy and can now reflect upon how to
improve the working conditions of the lowly beasts such as myself. I’m not too
keen on getting shot and less so on dying, so believe me when I say safety is
my utmost concern from here on out.” Says Stacy
“Can you at least comfort me by telling
me how those conditions are being improved upon?” asks Stella
“Before, I had a much higher
willingness to gamble with my life. I was taking something like 99% certainty
for granted, but now I’ve lowered the threshold so that unless my hand is
forced I will only take up the odds when they are at or below the chance of me
dying of natural causes at my age. I can’t do anything about that risk, so
that’s where I’m setting the threshold.” Says Stacy
“As much as I want to believe you, it’s
hard to do so knowing you are still going to ruthlessly hunt immoral people for
the rest of your life, people who likely have no qualms with murdering you and
are easily quite capable of doing so. Even if you only hunt defenseless people,
eventually they will come to the conclusion that they should arm themselves in
the face of such a vigilante and you will quickly run out of such low hanging
fruit. That is of course if the police don’t put an end to your shenanigans
long before any criminal does.” Says Stella
“The police couldn’t care less. Unless
I’m hunting cops they won’t give a damn about 99% of the people I’m tasked with
extirpating. The forensics team is virtually inexistent and they are even less
motivated to do their jobs than the racketeers who would rather run a
protection racket than enforce the law. Solving crimes doesn’t put any money in
their pocket, and nobody gives a damn if they forsake that responsibility
entirely.” says Stacy
“Have you already forgotten the time
they found you within a matter of hours? That’s the alleged level of
incompetence you are talking about.” Says Stella
“They were spoon-fed that conclusion by
the witness, of course they were able to find an approximately 5 foot tall
white haired girl who attends Southern Preparatory School named Stacy. That’s
the reason for the silly costume and nicknames. They were more than willing to
defend the case as self-defense regardless of the fact that I threw hot cooking
oil on a man’s face then drove a metal skewer into his brain with a hammer.
They want to get themselves out of being forced to make a court appearance just
as much as criminals. That is unless they’re collecting on traffic tickets.”
Says Stacy
“What the fuck? You did that to
somebody? Jesus Christ, Stacy.” Says Stella
“I guess I didn’t tell you that part.
It was do or die, and I for damn sure wasn’t dying.” Says Stacy
“You couldn’t run away after you threw
the oil on him?” says Stella
“I mean he was going to rape me at
knifepoint, I was upset. I might have lost my temper but the bastard deserved
it.” Says Stacy
“If you get that hot headed and pick
fights with anybody you don’t like I really think it’s going to do you in
pretty quickly.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty hard to kill. Don’t worry
about that. It’s not hard to dodge punches when you know beforehand exactly
where they’re coming from.” Says Stacy
“You would be manhandled in any sort of
fight, Stacy. You’re fucking crazy for doing stuff like that. That doesn’t even
start to bring bullets into the question, you can’t move faster than a bullet.”
Says Stella
“You don’t remember how I handedly
fought off two grown, armed, and violent men and came out unscathed, but
regardless. In terms of dodging bullets, I can dodge them before they’re fired
by predicting the actions of the shooter, hence why the bullet is in my arm and
not my heart right now.” Says Stacy
“You clearly dodged a bullet when you
got shot, Stacy. I’m glad you understand that.” Says Stella sarcastically
“I did my best. I had like a second or
less to react; the girl had no intention of doing that until her mind just
snapped in an instant. Must have been something I said that set her off.” Says
Stacy
“Why were you even talking to somebody
with a gun pointed at you in the first place?” Asks Stella
“She didn’t have a gun. That was the
gun of the guy I killed that happened to fall to the ground beside her,
unfortunately. I was talking to her because I was saving her life and part of
that was attempting to talk some damn sense into her so I could qualify my
deeds as good instead of just hypocrisy by killing two criminals but sparing
the life of another of no reason.” Says Stacy
“So you went out doing these things
with only a chance of doing a good thing? You didn’t even set out to accomplish
something that was guaranteed to be a good deed?” asks Stella
“It was a pretty high chance, and
clearly I succeeded. I got my message through to her. It took some prodding but
she gave into my wisdom. Mainly because it was rather close, simple, and safe
from the eyes of onlookers and the interest of the police. Unfortunately
something extremely improbable happened and so I paid the price for my
negligence. It won’t happen again. Jesus, let’s not talk about this at the
dinner table.” Says Stacy
“Dad is drunk and asleep, so it doesn’t
matter. I’m still upset with how reckless you are. You’re fucking insane.” Says
Stella, bewildered
“I’ve learned my lesson; nothing gets
that point across like being shot. There will be no more recklessness. I
promise.” Says Stacy
“You better not be lying.” Says Stella
“It’s only clean, meticulously planned,
and masterfully executed civil service from now on. I am far more capable then
you think. The problem was failing to respect the likelihood of extremely
improbable things. It has been addressed. Let it go. There’s nothing either of
us can do about it. You live and you learn.” Says Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy. You still don’t
care about your life.” Says Stella
“I do, very much so. The next time I
come home from my silly shenanigans and I’m not clean as a fucking whistle you
can rip me apart with all of the criticism and anger that you want.” Says Stacy
“The problem is that I think it’s
rather likely that you might not come home, Stacy. That is the problem.” Says
Stella
“I understand that, it is common sense
entirely. Hopefully you will come to terms with the fact that my situation
contradicts common sense entirely, so eventually you can have faith that I’m
coming home after I go out, even if it takes you until the umpteenth time to
realize that. I’m sorry for everything, I made mistakes, I know, but bickering
about it accomplishes nothing. I am the only one who can resolve that issue,
and within the certainty of my fucking omniscience the issue has been resolved.
Women who saw their lovers go to war all had faith that their lovers would
return, it should be much easier for you since I’m clearly so well-endowed in
the department of surviving people attempting to end my life. I wouldn’t be
alive if that were not the case.” Says Stacy
“You know I can’t help but worry. I
want to have faith in you but a big part of me is really fucking scared,
Stacy.” Says Stella
“We shouldn’t talk about this unless it
is an absolute necessity. We both need to preserve our sanity’s and the best
strategy is just to be incredulous to this nonsense like Jenna is wise enough
to do. Out of sight, out of mind, let’s just ignore it until we’re forced to
remember.” Says Stacy
“I feel so stupid for doing that but I
really want to. You promise me you won’t slip up and die if I just spend the
rest of my life or your life constantly lying to myself about how you will
survive your ordeal without a scratch?” asks Stella
“I promise. Let’s forget about it for
now.” Says Stacy
“I’m going to try that. I’m sorry for
getting upset about it; I know you can’t do much about it. I’ll clean up.” Says
Stella, as she gets up to wash the dishes
“Don’t worry about getting upset. It’s
my job to make sure you don’t get upset and I fucked up. It’s my fault.” Says
Stacy
“I’m sorry.” Says Stella, washing
dishes
“I’m sorry too. Let’s just forget about
it.” Says Stacy, silence ensues, eventually Stella starts to cry, sniffling as
she washes the dishes, Stacy goes up to her and hugs her from behind
“Don’t cry.” Says Stacy, nuzzling her
sister’s neck
“I don’t want you to die.” Says Stella,
still crying
“I’m here now. That’s all that
matters.” Says Stacy, holding her sister tightly
“I need you forever Stacy. Now doesn’t
matter if you’re gone tomorrow.” Says Stella
“I’ll be here forever. I’ll always be
here for you.” Says Stacy, Stella turns around and hugs Stacy
“Never leave me, damn it, Stacy. Please
don’t leave me.” Says Stella
“I’m not going anywhere.” Says Stacy,
Stella cries on her shoulder for a while in silence
“The dishes are clean. Let’s go
upstairs ok. You know I’m telling you the truth, right?” Asks Stacy
“It hurts me too much not to believe
you. I just can’t do it.” Says Stella
“Then don’t do it, ok?” Asks Stacy,
pulling back from her Sister and looking her in the eyes
“Don’t make me do it. Let me believe you.”
Says Stella, with an insane ambivalence of fear, anger, bewilderment, and hope
“I’ll do everything I can.” Says Stacy
“Please don’t forget to do that, for
me.” Says Stella, hugging Stacy again
“I won’t, I promise.” Says Stacy
“Don’t break my heart, Stacy. I can’t
handle it.” Says Stella
“I’ll never do that to you. You know I
wouldn’t do that.” Says Stacy
“I love you too much not to believe
you.” Says Stella
“I love you too much to lie to you.”
Says Stacy
“Didn’t we just agree to lie to each
other all the time?” asks Stella
“Well, I love you too much to lie to
you about something like that, but I love you too much to tell you the truth
about what I am forced to do.” Says Stacy
“Thank you.” Says Stella
“Let’s go upstairs ok?” says Stacy
“Ok.” Says Stella, who looks at Stacy
with wide eyes full of wildly delusional hope and optimism bordering upon
delirium, Stacy smiles at her genuinely and comfortingly, Stella kisses Stacy’s
lips lovingly and eerily happily, Stacy kisses her back with the same warm happiness
fueled by the same delusions. Stacy wraps her arm around Stella’s waist and
leads her upstairs.
“You’ll be ok if I lay down for a
little cat nap right? The food and emotions kind of left me with this swirl of
exhaustion.” Says Stacy as they enter the room
“That’s fine. Thanks for being there
for me.” Says Stella, who kisses Stacy’s lips lovingly and gratefully, with
both hands around Stacy’s hips, hopelessly enamored, disregarding the fact that
Stacy is the only source of her distress because Stacy is also the only source
of the solace she so desperately needs
“I’m going to do some homework. I’m
sure you already finished yours before I got home, right?” teases Stella as the
two separate and Stacy goes to lie down
“Of course.” jokes Stacy offhandedly
“I’ll give you a break from me, but you
know I’m still going to get on you about the usual stuff.” Says Stella, playful
yet serious
“I’m sure you would love a nap too, I
can at least convince you to stay in bed with me.” Says Stacy, bargaining for
more naptime
“That’s tempting to say the least, but
I’ll just let that be my motivation for getting my homework done.” Says Stella
“Once you do that I’m pretty sure you
will be dead set on getting me out of bed.” Says Stacy
“You could always be proactive and get
it done now so I don’t have to.” Says Stella
“Activity is not quite on the agenda as
of now, unfortunately.” Says Stacy, giving up on her dreams of a serious nap
“That’s a shame, but I suppose the
night is still young.” Says Stella
“The night tends to remind me of Rip
Van Winkle, young one moment but she wakes up and has aged thoroughly.” Says
Stacy
“I won’t let you sleep that long.”
teases Stella
“Then I’m off to savor the youth of the
night while I still can.” Says Stacy, as she starts to nod off
“Enjoy.” Says Stella, working
diligently on her homework
The pages and papers are thoroughly
rustled in the silence. Eventually the pages know they will be rustled no more,
as Stella painfully acknowledges that she must save some flavorful paper to savor
during the coming week. She whistles, attempting to wake Stacy. “Nap time’s
over, Stacy, time for homework.” She says
Stacy groans softly and sits up in her
bed.
“I thought I would have to wrestle you
out of bed.” Says Stella
“I’m doing my best to avoid conflicts
when I can.” Says Stacy, walking to her desk and getting some papers out
“That’s surprisingly out of character.”
jokes Stella
“I’m trying some new strategies,
hopefully they pay off.” Says Stacy
“What do you have to do anyways?” asks
Stella
“I’ve got a science worksheet, that’s
about it really.” Says Stacy
“You have eight classes Stacy. That’s
kind of hard to believe. I’m sure you have math and required reading for plenty
of your classes.” Says Stella
“There’s a noticeable difference
between assignments and graded assignments. My math teacher doesn’t collect
homework and if we’re just going to talk about the assigned reading in class
tomorrow I see no point in reading it.” Says Stacy
“Even if the assignments aren’t graded,
your other grades will suffer if you don’t do them. Without practicing on your
own you will be lost on the test.” Says Stella
“I pay attention and have a healthy
level of intuition. That has served me well enough in the past.” Says Stacy
“We’re in high school now, Stacy; this
isn’t some silly kid friendly playpen like middle school. These grades matter
and you know the tests will be a lot harder.” Says Stella
“I’ll
test the waters and course correct from there if my old strategies fail me.”
Says Stacy
“Hopefully
the bad marks will actually teach you that lesson, it’s really important.” Says
Stella
“I’m
just not going to put in an excessive amount of effort. I would feel ashamed of
myself if I study way more than I need to, like I wasted all of my time for
nothing.” Says Stacy
“That’s
a terrible mentality. The readings and practice my not be graded, but you can’t
participate in class if you haven’t read the reference material. Participation
is also a pretty sizable grade; it can easily be the difference between a C and
a B. You know it’s at least 10% of the grade in every class if not more.” says
Stella
“Participation
isn’t a problem. I’ll teach you how to participate. You listen to what people
are talking about, then you ask some vague question or say you didn’t
understand something thoroughly and could use some clarification. You never
want to volunteer to answer questions because then it’s far more likely that
you get called on to answer them, let the overachievers take that burden off of
your back, they’re all itching to answer as many as possible and I wouldn’t
take that pleasure from them. The best questions are the mildly off topic ones
with broad answers, how should we interpret this line in the book, does this
tie into that somehow, for math: what are some real world applications of the
subject matter. If you ever have to answer a question just rattle of the first
thing that comes to mind, stutter or stumble a bit through your answer and just
say you didn’t quite understand the subject and apologize, sympathy wins you a
lot of points if it looks sincere. I get my participation grades; those are as
easy as they come.” Says Stacy
“Wow.
You could just be sincere with your participation.” Says Stella
“It
is pretty sincere, most of the time I’m halfway curious as to whatever my
question is about. If the answer is formulaic like math you just talk your way
through the problem until you don’t know what to do and tell them that’s where
you get lost. It’s not too bad. The easiest ones are in English when the
teacher asks “What do you think is significant about when so and so said this?”
because you can just rattle off some bold response as to how you interpret that
line without any context and even if you are so far off that you get rebuked
you just act like you’ve heard some kind of shocking revelation.” Says Stacy
“Your game plan is remarkable, for
someone who thinks they know everything you certainly have plans in place for
when you are forced to admit that you don’t.” says Stella
“Most of the time I can pass muster
with my intuition. It’s rare that I’m at a loss, only when I’ve completely
blown the class off all semester and drowned in daydreams because I simply
can’t stand the class that much.” Says Stacy
“The thing is school used to be mostly
things we could pick up just by being intuitive, but now we’re getting to the
point where it requires a serious dedication to the material in order to
comprehend and eventually master it. It’s not simple stuff for children
anymore; plenty of the stuff we’re already leaning is college level material.
Maybe junior college level, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t somewhat difficult.
You can’t just blow it off and expect to be successful.” Says Stella
“If it will make you feel better I’ll
read some of the book we got for English. If I read the required readings I
guarantee that I will be bored to death in school when they just reiterate
everything I had already read and I will feel like I spent 8 hours learning
nothing and listening to a broken record. If I don’t read the material I can at
least be mildly interested in the topics because they’re new to me and have
some, albeit limited, potential for entertaining me.” Says Stacy
“If you read the material you can delve
deeper into it by asking pertinent questions about it during class. That is the
interesting part, learning stuff you didn’t get to learn just from reading the
book.” Says Stella
“That’s setting the bar too high.
You’re doing it all wrong. By stumbling through the material, you give the
teacher the impression that the class needs to review more and they feel more
inclined to spend more time on the study guide for the test and you go over all
of the answers for the questions on the test, rather than just give you the
study guide and expect that everyone knows the correct answer so they feel
little need to review it. Besides, by doing that I’m helping the girls who
actually struggle in class, if I make an effort to unnecessarily cover
additional, largely irrelevant, material out of my own curiosity and waste half
the time having rich intellectual conversations with the teacher, those girls
who actually don’t understand the material well get left behind and I’ve done
them a disservice.” Says Stacy
“Of course you find a way to defend
your laziness as if it is some kind of benevolence.” Says Stella
“It is a benevolent laziness. If I’m
lazy the class can trot along at a leisurely pace, if I’m chomping at the bit
every time I walk into class I end up dragging the other girls forward with my
passionate learning and they can barely get their feet under themselves if they
don’t fall down all together.” Says Stacy
“You could find a way to portray Satan
as a saint if you really wanted to.” Says Stella
“So could any lawyer. I’ll get on my
homework, but don’t expect me to find some sick euphoria in doing schoolwork
and going to school; it’s just not my cup of tea.” Says Stacy
“I understand. I’m just hoping you will
drink the cup of tea instead of turning your nose up at it.” Says Stella
“I sip at it. I don’t turn it down all
together.” Says Stacy
“You take a couple of sips and throw
the rest away.” says Stella
“That’s better than nothing; I would
just take what you can get. I’m pretty stubborn.” Says Stacy, starting to work
“Fine. At least do some of your
reading.” Says Stella
“I’ll read that English novel before I
go to sleep, how about that?” asks Stacy
“That’s fine. At least it’s something.
What is it?” asks Stella
“The Abject Rancor of Living and Dying” says Stacy
“That sounds terrible, but I guess in a
relatable kind of way. I’ve never heard of it, what is it about?” asks Stella
“Do you want me to repeat the title?”
asks Stacy
“I should have guessed you had no
idea.” Says Stella
“It’s about a lowly worthless guy who
is always upset with life and it never goes his way and my best guess is that
he dies and he is still upset and things never went his way. That’s the gist I
got when the teacher talked about it.” Says Stacy
“Why are you reading it?” asks Stella
“My guess is that there’s some
kind-hearted character that he never listened to and would have helped him
enjoy his life if he wasn’t filled with rancor. Who knows why we read anything,
maybe it’s some kind of stylistic masterpiece.” Says Stacy
“Good point. Let me know if you like
it.” Says Stella
“A character that is constantly upset
with his life but does nothing to change it doesn’t sound like somebody I’d
like reading about, but who knows.” Says Stacy
“I’ll keep reading my book. Keep
working, ok?” asks Stella
“I’m almost done. Who would have
guessed copying emboldened words out of a textbook onto a worksheet would be so
easy. I thought I might have trouble looking at the words from a diagram in the
book and rewriting them in blanks on the exact same diagram on the worksheet, but
I’m so surprised that I could actually accomplish such a difficult feat.” Says
Stacy sarcastically
“You know you have to do that because
the bold words and diagram will be on the test, right? You just do the
worksheet so that you have quick reference to study from rather than having to
find the pages in the textbook.” Says Stella dryly
“I guess I should be more grateful for
that. At least it’s not some nonsense filled logical word puzzle to find the
right answers. I like it when you’ve just got to match the damn sentence on the
worksheet with the one in the book to find the answer.” Says Stacy
“Do your best to actually remember the
sentences instead of just matching them like they’re meaningless memory cards
with shapes and symbols on them. They are definitions of key terms, after all.”
Says Stella
“I’ll
see what I can do.” Says Stacy, indifferently
“Good.” Says Stella, as she goes back
to reading in the subsequent silence
“Goodness. Now that I am thoroughly
indoctrinated, it’s about time to catch those winks that have been teasing me
oh so playfully.” Says Stacy, stretching and putting her things away
“You still have to take a bath.” Says
Stella
“I would hiss like a cat at you, but
unfortunately I have too much self-respect to indulge in such pleasures.” Says
Stacy
“How about you use some of that
self-respect to clean yourself.” Says Stella
“By all means, after you.” Says Stacy
“If I go first I know you’ll fall
asleep. I don’t want to try and wake you up again.” Says Stella
“Fine, but then I sleep.” Says Stacy,
getting up and preparing for her bath
“One worksheet really took it out of
you.” Says Stella
“It was a monstrous packet of two
pages, front and back. That’s backbreaking labor.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you were able to subdue such
a beast.” Says Stella, sarcastically
“I didn’t know if I would make it, my
life flashed before my eyes. I thought I was done for, but somehow I
persevered.” Says Stacy
“You will always be remembered for your
selfless heroism.” Says Stella, dryly as Stacy exits the room
Stacy runs the water, fills the tub,
undresses and shudders a groan as she gets into the water. She just sits in the
tub halfway above the water. Stella walks into the bathroom.
“Rats, looks like my time in the tub is up.” Says Stacy, facetiously, standing up,
as Stella starts to undress
“It’s only just begun.” Says Stella
playfully
“I’m not going to prevent you from
washing Stella.” Says Stacy, Stella fully undressed
“Get back in the tub.” Says Stella,
holding Stacy’s body dominantly
“What is this about?” asks Stacy
“I’ve got to make sure you’re washing
thoroughly.” Says Stella
“Oh I am, don’t worry, all clean.” Says
Stacy
“Your hair is still dry.” Says Stella
“That doesn’t mean it’s not clean.”
Says Stacy, attempting to avoid Stella’s insistence, Stella grabs Stacy’s hips
and spins her around and slaps her ass with both of her hands simultaneously
“Go.” Commands Stella
“If you insist, I know better than to
wrestle with you when I’m wet and naked. Lots of sharp corners and whatnot in
the bathroom.” Says Stacy, awkwardly obliging and getting in the tub, Stella
follows her and sits behind her
“I’m glad you know what’s best for
you.” Says Stella as she picks up the washcloth and the soap from the side of
the tub
“First, you get the soap and you rub it
on the washcloth and clean your body with it.” Says Stella as she does so and
starts to slowly and thoroughly clean Stacy’s back
“Just because I don’t do it doesn’t
mean I don’t know how.” Says Stacy
“Sometimes I doubt that.” Says Stella,
washing Stacy’s arms now, wrapping her other arm around Stacy’s waist, holding
her close and kissing her neck
“Can I wash your weak arm?” asks Stella,
concernedly
“Not too much. I can take the bandage
off but don’t open the wound.” Says Stacy, she takes the bandage off, the gauze
has been mostly pushed out of the hole in a compressed ball rich with dried
blood, a small divet in the arm exists where the gunshot wound was covered by a
thick scab that was nearly black.
“That looks pretty bad.” Says Stella
“You should have seen it a couple days
ago.” Says Stacy
“I’ll just wash around that part.” Says
Stella, who continues washing Stacy slowly
“You know I can do this myself right?”
asks Stacy
“You can, but you won’t.” says Stella
“Good point.” Says Stacy, rather
indifferent to being washed at this point
“I’m going to wash your face, so close
your eyes.” Says Stella
“Thanks for warning me.” Says Stacy,
closing her eyes as Stella thoroughly scrubs her face, before washing behind
her ears and her neck
“Dunk yourself, I don’t want you to get
soap in your eyes.” Says Stella
“Just don’t hold me under.” Says Stacy
“Who do you think I am?” asks Stella
“I don’t know sometimes.” Says Stacy
“Don’t worry; I wouldn’t do anything
like that.” Says Stella, Stacy dunks herself under the water before coming back
up. Stella starts to wash Stacy’s chest, fondling her breasts as she does so.
“Was this the reason you wanted to wash
me?” asks Stacy
“No, but it’s kind of my reward for
keeping you clean.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy’s neck before moving down her torso
“I didn’t think anybody would think of
my breasts any sort of a reward, I’ve barely got tits in the first place.” Says
Stacy
“Don’t say that. You’re breasts are
cute and beautiful. They’re lovely.” Says Stella
“I’m not sure there’s a similar
expression to ‘a face only a mother could love’ that I can use right here, but
you get my gist.” Says Stacy
“You don’t like your breasts?” asks
Stella
“I do. They’re convenient, they don’t
get in the way or make my back hurt, nor do they draw unwanted attention. They’re
my ideal breasts; I just didn’t think anybody else would like them.” Says Stacy
“I love every part of you Stacy.” Says
Stella, as she starts to slowly wash Stacy’s legs
“Thanks, I guess.” Says Stacy, Stella
kisses her on the neck again
“Curl your leg up so I can was the
whole thing.” says Stella
“I didn’t think anybody could be this
thorough.” Says Stacy
“Stacy, damn near everyone is this
thorough.” Says Stella
“I find that hard to believe, maybe a
select few, but I doubt most people was this well.” Says Stacy
“If you really want to be embarrassed
go ask people how thoroughly they wash themselves when they bathe, they will
all tell you they wash their entire body.” Says Stella, rubbing the cloth
through Stacy’s toes individually
“Damn, toes and all, it might have been
close to a decade since my toes were washed.” Says Stacy
“That’s disgusting.” Says Stella,
washing the bottom of Stacy’s foot before moving onto her other leg
“It’s not like I eat with my feet or
anything.” Says Stacy
Stella sighs, washing Stacy’s legs
slowly, pulling her thigh up to reach her feet before moving onto the small
over her back “Sit on your ankles so I can get the rest of you.” Says Stella,
Stacy folds her legs back and allows Stella to massage her ass with the
washcloth, wrapping her arm around and washing Stacy’s pubis, before
approaching from behind with the cloth and rubbing it slowly between the gap in
Stacy’s thighs
“I’m sure that part is clean by now.”
Says Stacy, awkwardly
“Are you sure?” asks Stella playfully
“I’m not a doctor, but my better
judgement tells me yes.” Says Stacy
“Ok.” Says Stella who then kisses
Stacy’s cheek
“All done?” asks Stacy
“Do you know what shampoo is?” asks
Stella
“That’s like a once a week thing, I’m
sure I’ve done it in the last week.” Says Stacy
“For some reason I doubt that.” Says
Stella
“Knock yourself out.” Says Stacy, Stella
pours some shampoo into her hand and lovingly lathers it throughout Stacy’s
hair
“You can scoot forward and lean your
head into my lap; I’ll rinse it out for you.” Says Stella
Stacy does so and Stella plays with her
hair in the water, happily staring at Stacy’s relaxed face in her lap
“Now I’m actually all clean. Unless I’m
forgetting something.” Says Stacy with a legitimate bit of uncertainty as to if
she actually knew all of the parts of bathing or not
“Now you get to wash me.” Says Stella
“I’m not sure I’m the one you want to
put in charge of that.” Says Stacy
“I’ll guide your hand. Of course I
wouldn’t trust you to do it by yourself. Kinetic memory is important, you know.”
Says Stella as she stands up “Scoot back.” She says, Stacy threads her body
between Stella’s legs before Stella places herself in the only position she
truly desires, her own frail body supported by Stacy’s inhuman mental
fortitude. She wraps one of Stacy’s arms around her waist and lathers the
washcloth with soap again before placing it in Stacy’s hand.
“I hope I can trust you to at least
wash my back.” Says Stella
“I’ll do my best.” Says Stacy who
scrubs Stella’s back quickly and thoroughly as if attempting to polish the
ivory that lay before her eyes, Stella sighs
“I thought I was doing good.” Says
Stacy
“Better than I expected to be honest.”
Says Stella
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Says
Stacy, Stella reaches behind her and grabs Stacy’s hand and thoroughly enjoys
the slow caress along every inch of her body, taking extra time to remind Stacy
of the importance of cleaning the sensitive areas on the body.
“I’ll let you off the hook in terms of
shampooing me on account of your bum arm, but you’ve still got to rinse me.”
Says Stella, who starts to lather her hair
“Right-o” says Stacy, Stella lays down
and puts her head in Stacy’s lap who playfully rubs her hair around in the
water
“All clean.” Says Stacy, cheerfully as
Stella gets up
“Hopefully you will remember how to do
it without my help next time.” Says Stella, playfully
“Next time.” Says Stacy, awkwardly,
foolishly failing to expect a next time
“Next time.” Says Stella with a firm
confidence as she gets out of the water, Stacy follows her
“Do you want me to dry you?” asks
Stella
“You seem to mind being wet much less
than I do.” Says Stacy
“Of course.” Says Stella as she
playfully rubs Stacy up and down with the towel, eventually drying her well
enough, she hangs up the towel and hands Stacy the other towel, looking at her
expectantly, Stacy dry’s Stella with the same playful energy, finding it easier
to enjoy this sort of silliness than the usual serious tones the relationship
had tended to take before finally drying themselves off and dressing in clean
knickers and brushing their teeth before going back to the room to change into
night gowns.
“Thanks, I enjoyed that. I hope you
like actually being clean for once.” Says Stella, who looks at Stacy longingly,
grabs her by the hips and kisses her playfully on the lips
“It’s an odd feeling.” Says Stacy,
rubbing the back of her head, more embarrassed by being clean than anything
else
“You ready for sleep?” asks Stella
“More than anything.” Says Stacy,
yawning as Stella turns out the lights and closes the door
“Am I still invited to your bed?” asks
Stella, deviously as she grabs Stacy’s hand in the darkness polluted by the
lines of amber streetlight that bleed through the blinds
“I don’t know about all that, I’m
pretty beat.” Says Stacy, attempting to talk her way out of the offer she made
“You’re not going to let me at least
cuddle you while you smell so nice?” asks Stella, with a playful pout
“I guess that’s fine.” Says Stacy,
obligingly, Stella spins her around and throws Stacy onto the bed without
releasing her, landing assertively on top of Stacy
“Not too much, ok?” says Stacy
“Ok. I’m kind of tired too.” Says
Stella who slides to the side of Stacy, holding Stacy close, wrapping her leg around
Stacy’s hips, posed like a professional dancer or a jockey on a sideways
racehorse , she kisses Stacy’s cheek,
holding her lovingly, Stacy kind enough to embrace Stella softly, herself also
quite determined not to lose her sister. Stella nuzzles her head into the crook
of Stacy’s neck; Stacy rests her cheek on top of Stella’s head. Stella falls
asleep like this, and Stacy relinquishes her consciousness shortly afterwards.
The sky king peeks his head above the
horizon as a seemingly infinite yet painfully finite number of tentacles
brimming with radiation pierce the sky and painstakingly lash every last atom
its mindless ruthlessness can sadistically pleasure itself with, the swirling
balls of primordial matter are penetrated by the syringe fingers of the sky
king as he violently injects the meek and lowly noun-powder with as much
radiation as his glowing body can create. The silent and dying orbs vomit this
radiation profusely, but cannot fully rid themselves of their infectious inundation,
turning red and green and blue with sickness, all colors of the rainbow of
death, this juicy excreta envelops the world, and these rainbow ghosts of the
tentacles of god seek another orifice as its sadism propels itself to be
recycled until it has been depleted of its radiation or otherwise loses the
will to do so. The excreta pierces the eyes the two girls who’s world is a
prison of infected noun-powder apparently glowing in the flavor of sickness
that it could not stomach and thus expelled from its body so that the warm
excreta of the sky king can find another vessel to quench it’s desire to be
imbibed.
The two girls still locked in a warm
embrace to fend off the cold fear of an even colder death. Stacy kisses Stella
on the forehead. “It’s morning, Stella. Time to get up.” She says
“Do we have to? I just want to lay here
with you.” says Stella, nuzzling Stacy, much more inclined to lay in bed
“Be my guest. Don’t be mad if we’re
late for school though.” Says Stacy
“I never thought it would be your own
responsibility talking you out of a good time.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy
before getting out of bed
“That’s you’re responsibility doing
that. I was willing to stay in bed.” Says Stacy
“Unfortunately for you, you’ve awoken
that beast, so let’s just do what we must so we can enjoy ourselves later.”
Says Stella
“That’s fine with me. I’ve no problem
with swallowing the bitter pill known as inevitability. You sleep well?” Says
Stacy, sitting up in bed
“Like a rock. You?” Says Stella,
getting dressed
“I like to think that sleeping is my
forte.” Says Stacy
“You have plenty of them. Sadly, even
sleeping has the capacity to get you into trouble like most of the rest of
them.” Says Stella
“Well, at least it’s not all of the
rest of them.” Says Stacy, getting up and getting dressed
“I can tell you I appreciate some of
the more pleasant ones.” Teases Stella
“I just hope those don’t get me into
trouble.” Says Stacy
“It’s not like I’ll ever tell anybody.”
Says Stella
“Good. That’s one flank I’ve not got to
worry about then.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you’re still thinking about
your own safety and wellbeing.” Says Stella
“It’s more for you than for me at this
point, and that’s saying something considering how much I love myself.” Says
Stacy
“I’m glad you can love me more than
that.” Says Stella cutely
“You’re easy to love, what can I say?”
Says Stacy
“You are too, most of the time, even if
you don’t want to admit it.” Teases Stella
“I’ll gladly admit it around you, but
nobody else though. I can’t have my reputation of bold heartlessness be
tarnished by that fact.” Says Stacy
“It’s our secret then. I’m glad you’re
willing to open up that part of you to me though.” Says Stella
“You’re the only one who deserves it.
Everybody else can piss off.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you’re all mine.” Says
Stella, hugging Stacy and kissing her
“Just do the same for me, I don’t want
to have to kill a bunch of suitors like I’m Odysseus or something.” Says Stacy
“As long as you never leave me, you
never will. Even if you do I’ll wait for you forever, and when you come back
and kill all the bastards who think they can replace you, that will be the best
day of my life.” Says Stella
“I’ll take the first option.” Says
Stacy
“Good.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy
playfully again “You want some breakfast?” she asks
“Of course, if you would be so kind.”
Says Stacy
“How about some grits and eggs?” asks
Stella
“That’s the number.” Says Stacy,
already satisfied
“Coming right up.” Says Stella
hospitably as she walks out the door and downstairs with Stacy in tow. Dale
awake on the couch watching television.
“You’re up early.” Says Stella
“Carpe diem.” Says Dale
“You have something on the agenda
today?” asks Stella
“Staying alive, of course.” Says Dale
“What are you doing in respects to that
today?” asks Stella
“Drinking, of course.” Says Dale
“Not too much, ok?” asks Stella
“Drinking is wonderful because if
you’ve got a healthy pace, you end up too drunk to drink too much, so you
always just end up drinking enough.” Says Dale
“That’s good. Did you eat last night?”
asks Stella
“Yeah, it was great. Thanks for that.”
Says Dale
“No problem. I’m cooking grits and
eggs, do you want any?” asks Stella
“No thanks, I kind of had that soup for
breakfast already.” Says Dale
“That’s good, it’s healthier than grits
and eggs anyways.” Says Stella
“I do try to be the embodiment of
healthy living.” Jokes Dale
“You’re about as healthy as you can be
in your position, so I’ll give you credit.” Says Stacy
“I try my best. Enjoy your breakfast
girls.” Says Dale
“Enjoy your brunch, I suppose.” Says
Stacy
“I’m glad it’s classy to have liquor
for brunch, it really makes me feel a bit more respectable.” Says Dale
“You’re plenty respectable regardless;
don’t worry about that sort of thing. You keep the house in order and that’s
all anybody can ask for.” Says Stacy
“I’m just saying plenty and a bit more
isn’t a bad thing. You’ve got to strive for greatness, you know?” Asks Dale
“Of course. We’re you’re children after
all.” Says Stella
“You’re better than me though, you two
are destined for greatness; all I can do is strive.” Says Dale
“You’re great in your own ways. Don’t
let anyone tell you otherwise.” Says Stacy
“As long as you girls think that,
that’s all the support I need.” Says Dale
“Of course we do. We will always think
that. We love you, dad.” Says Stella
“I love you girls too. Don’t forget
that.” Says Dale
“We couldn’t if we tried. Don’t worry
about that.” Says Stacy
“I know I can’t do much, but if you
ever need me, you know I’m here for you.” Says Dale
“Just being here is enough, that’s all
we can ask for.” Says Stella
“Ask, and you shall receive. You know
I’m not going anywhere lest the good lord takes me.” Says Dale
“Just don’t let him do it, ok?” asks
Stacy
“I’m undefeated in the ring with that man;
I wouldn’t expect him to dethrone the reigning champ anytime soon.” Says Dale
“That’s the spirit. Get some rest in
case you’ve got to defend your title, ok?” asks Stacy
“Sounds like a plan.” Says Dale as he
lays down, continuing to watch the television as the girls enter the kitchen,
Stacy sits down and Stella starts to cook
“Mornings are brutal; it’s the only
time of day I can sympathize with the plight of everyman.” Says Stacy
“How so?” asks Stella
“I just wake up and I’m so exhausted
and weak, I feel like it would be easier to keep my head down and avoid as much
conflict as possible. Just use what little energy I have for self-preservation
rather than pursue any sort of lofty ambitions. My spirits are already broken
by the anguish of living; it makes sense that the everyman is easily controlled
by those who can muster the energy to attempt such things. He simply has no
willpower to fight such imposition.” Says Stacy
“That sounds so weird coming from you.”
Says Stella
“I know, but even I’m no match for the
psychological effects of entropy. I’ve just got to put some fuel in the tank;
some chemical potential energy would go a long way.” Says Stacy
“It will be a few minutes.” Says Stella
“Instant grits is a bit of an
oxymoron.” Says Stacy, getting up and pouring herself a glass of milk before
sitting back down
“I’m pretty satisfied with them; I’d
rather wait 7 minutes than 20 minutes.” Says Stella
“We’ve got the ability to make 300 tons
of metal fly gracefully through the air and land safely but we’ve still got to
wait 7 minutes to make grits.” Says Stacy
“The benefits of rapid unimpeded
transport over land and sea tempted intelligent people to innovate in the field
of aeronautics a bit more than the temptation of cooking grits a little bit
quicker.” Says Stella
“They clearly could not fathom the
benefits of rapid unimpeded grits.” Says Stacy
“Your mind is just ahead of the times
to be able to understand things like that.” Says Stella
“It’s just that the minds of too many
people are chained to the ground, they don’t even bother to think about it,
because they just presume it is impossible. The children need to dream, or else
there is no chance for their dreams to come true.” Says Stacy
“You’re probably the only person who
dreams about grits.” Says Stella
“I am never hungry in my dreams, never
anything really. I always see food and think that would taste great, but I
never eat anything. I don’t think I smell anything either, I don’t remember
eating anything at all really so I might not even taste, only sight, sound, and
tactility. My brain is kind of glazed over running on autopilot, I don’t think
or anything it’s pretty weird. I kind of like it, I can just play my part
without thinking or second-guessing and enjoy whatever crazy show my brain
wants to put on for me without corrupting it with my freewill and
consciousness. ” Says Stacy
“Dreams are weird like that, for some
reason fear is still pretty common in dreams for some reason.” Says Stella
“I think it’s just to keep you on your
toes, back in the wild woods man never knew when he would have to get up and
start booking it because he heard the growl of a hungry lioness or something.”
Says Stacy
“That kind of makes sense. It’s a shame
that normal fears from everyday life have the capacity to replace the lioness
though, most people aren’t running from a lioness in a nightmare they’re afraid
because their money got stolen or somebody is upset with them.” Says Stella
“The funny thing is, in my dreams
things that would easily frighten me senseless don’t have any effect on me.
Like I’ll be in a car crash and the car will be wrapped around a tree and I
just climb out of the car completely indifferent and keep on wandering down the
road completely unfazed.” Says Stacy
“What do you do after that?” ask Stella
“Usually my dreams are inconsistent
enough that somehow the scene will impossibly transition seamlessly into
something completely unrelated. My brain kind of half-asses consistency in my dreams
because it knows I won’t notice until I wake up.” Says Stacy
“Your brain would be the one to presume
that every idea it has is up to snuff without any sort of thought to the
consistency or realism of the thought. My dreams are pretty realistic I think,
I don’t remember them much.” Says Stella
“My favorite part is that I am
unquestioningly familiar with people I’ve never met and place’s I’ve never
been, I always know exactly who is who and where I am even if it has no basis
in reality or is quite frankly impossible. People act ridiculous and
nonsensically but if I’m dreaming I’ll think of their babbling and acrobatic
insanity as if it were nothing but business as usual. Maybe since my brain is
asleep it just abandons rational thinking all together, that part is just too
tired to work so it sleeps on the job.” Says Stacy
“Just make sure to wake that part up
with the rest of you.” Says Stella
“I think more people would see me as a
rational person if they would just understand that word as thinking with
respect to ratios. Thinking with respect towards respecting other people or
society is something different all together.” Says Stacy
“Civil mindedness is usually considered
rational because the probability of staying alive is much higher when one
aligns one’s self with society than when one attempts to fight society to the
death.” Says Stella
“Sadly that means subjecting one’s self
to complying with the irrational demands of society due to their own twisted
self-serving unnatural ratios they choose to impose. Just like from church, God
made ratios, man finds these ratios and corrupts them with his own vice and
ignorance. It’s hard to call those ratios if they’re no longer rational.” Says
Stacy
“Regardless of what you call them, they’re
the facts of the matter. The food is hot, don’t burn yourself.” Says Stella,
serving Stacy some grits and eggs
“Smells good, what do you put in your
grits anyways?” asks Stacy
“Garlic powder, onion powder, salt,
pepper, butter, paprika.” Says Stella, sitting down with her own food
“Where’d you pick that up?” asks Stacy
“A long time ago I was at my Zoe’s
house for breakfast and her mom showed me. I told her my grits always tasted
bad so I asked her what her recipe was.” Says Stella
“You’ve got to thank her for me next
time you see her.” Says Stacy
“I’ll do that. I’m sure she’ll be happy
to hear that somebody enjoys her recipes.” Says Stella
“You might be feeding me too well
though.” Says Stacy
“What do you mean?” asks Stella
“If I’m eating like this I’ll have so
much energy I might actually be attentive and participate in class.” Says Stacy
“Heaven forbid you actually make an
effort for once.” Says Stella
“They might start to expect more from
me, if they ever call me out on slacking off; I’m blaming you for not feeding
me enough. Right now they just think I’m slightly incapable, which suits me
perfectly.” Says Stacy
“I do my best Stacy. If you want bigger
breakfasts I can try to do that for you.” Says Stella
“I’m happy with whatever you cook. Too
much and I might end up sleeping through class.” Says Stacy
“It’s a catch-22, I guess.” Says Stella
“Don’t spoil me, spoiled children get
indignant and it’s disgusting. Let me be grateful for whatever charity your
loving soul offers me. The more you keep me hungry, the more grateful I’ll be
for the food.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think I’m that manipulative, to be honest. I doubt it’s even possible
to feed you enough to the point where you’re not hungry.” Says Stella
“I’m sure it is, but that’s beside the
point. It wouldn’t be healthy to say the least.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to eat enough to grow and
what not.” Says Stella
“I do, I’m sure of that. I’m probably
done growing, I’m about as tall as mom was and dad is pretty short too for a
man. I don’t think god is going to sprinkle any more inches on me any time
soon. I’d only be growing outwards at that point and nobody wants that.” Says
Stacy
“Aren’t you technically underweight?”
asks Stella
“I think I’m fine. You’re the same size
as me so you should really know. If this is the weight my metabolism thinks is
the right weight so be it, I can’t really do anything about it at that point.”
Says Stacy
“I know I’m in the normal range, so
you’re probably fine. I know it was a problem when we were younger.” Says
Stella
“Now you can cook a hell of a lot
better though, so we’re making good headway.” Says Stacy
Stella laughs “That’s true, I guess.”
Says Stella
“I’m surprised we didn’t die when we
just had Dale cooking for us. For a stay-at-home dad he can’t cook worth a
damn.” Says Stacy
“He did his best and we didn’t die, so
be grateful for that.” Says Stella
“That’s true; he had to captain the
ship and the galley in stormy weather while he was sick and half broken. That’s
a man if there’s ever been one.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad he can be semi-retired now.
He’s done enough, he deserves some rest.” Says Stella
“It’s good for him. He’s drinking less
from what I can tell now that he can actually enjoy it to some extent.” Says
Stacy
“I’m just happy he is able to smile and
joke around, he used to be a mess. It was so sad watching him be miserable all
the time.” Says Stella
“I think he just felt inadequate and insecure about our futures, but since you
turned into a model citizen and I’m a half-way decent person, he can be proud
of that. Feeling like you’ve accomplished something can really set a man at
ease whereas feeling like you’ve failed can induce intolerable misery.” Says
Stacy
“If only he could accomplish something
himself. It’s kind of heartbreaking to see him waste away like this every day.”
Says Stella
“I think staying alive is a pretty
impressive accomplishment at this point. Anyways, he’s a parent; plenty of
parents gauge their level of accomplishment based off of their merits of their children;
they’ve got unfulfilled dreams and unaddressed failures that they can only feel
good about if their children are able to avoid making the same mistakes they
did. Of course if the children make the same mistakes it’s their own damn
fault. It’s easy to take credit for all of the good and none of the bad.” Says
Stacy
“I’m pretty sure dad would beat himself
up mercilessly if we were failures. He would blame himself day in and day out.”
Says Stella
“All the more reason to keep on
trucking, eh?” asks Stacy
“I hope you will try hard in school,
even if it is just for dad. He would love to see you be successful.” Says
Stella
“He’s pretty satisfied when I get
average marks.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure he would be even happier if
you got good ones.” Says Stella
“I’m not trying to compete with you in
that department. You can keep being the shining star and I’ll keep being the
lovable oaf, we’ve each got our own niche at that point.” Says Stacy
“You’re not an oaf, Stacy.” Says Stella
“I’m Bay City’s parallel to the yokel
of the countryside. That’s how I like to think of it.” Says Stacy
“You could do a lot better than that.”
Says Stella
“A yokel doesn’t spend his nights
studying philosophy because he knows damn well it won’t help him reap the
fields. My fields are simply sown with chaos and upheaval, and I live the
simple life of a farmer.” Says Stacy
“Why not sow a better crop than that?”
asks Stella
“I sow what the people are hungry for,
when the stores are full of pickled chaos and dried upheaval, I will rotate my
crops, but until then, even the yokel understands supply and demand.” Says
Stacy
“Suit yourself. Maybe you could have a
small little garden where you plant some nice things for once, just in case the
market shifts unexpectedly.” Says Stella
“I’ll think about it. Tell people that
I wanted to be a revolutionary but lacked the backbone to do so, thus I became
a seamstress.” Jokes Stacy
“I think that would be nice. An honest
living. You would always be in work anyways because if there’s one thing you
can count on it’s America consistently getting a little too fat for their old
clothes.” jokes Stella
“Or getting a nice set of fake tits
that have got to be accommodated, it’s Bay City after all.” Says Stacy
“I’m telling you, seamstress wouldn’t
be a bad idea.” Says Stella
“If it would get you off my case about
school, I might entertain the idea. It’s not like I need all of the
book-learning to sew.” Says Stacy
“You wish. You’ll need it more than you
think, math for the money and what not.” Says Stella
“I’m sure the history of ancient Greece
is extremely relevant to making clothes.” Says Stacy sarcastically
“Maybe somebody needs a dress styled
after the antiquities.” Says Stella
“I can probably just tie a rope around
a bedsheet and call it a day at that point.” Jokes Stacy
“You’ve got to take pride in your work.
I’ll start cleaning up; we’ve got to leave pretty soon.” Says Stella
“I would be proud of that, that’s a
historically accurate reproduction.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure they want a nice dress
more than a historically accurate reproduction, they’re probably going to some
kind of theme party, not reenacting ancient history.” Says Stella
“I don’t think I could deal with
fashionistas all day, I doubt I’ve got the tastes to suit anyone’s fancy in
that regards. I’m a minimalist when it comes to fashion.” Says Stacy
“Maybe you could make that fashionable,
who knows? Fashion never makes any sense. It’s either classy or it’s just super
weird stuff. I don’t understand most of what I see at the pictures fashion
shows, nobody in their right mind would wear half of that stuff.” Says Stella
“I wouldn’t argue that anyone who is
concerned with fashion to that point is anywhere close to being in their right
mind. Trying to look nice is one thing, but trying to set trends with nonsense
is something else entirely. People keep on making allegedly cutting edge
fashion when the only relevant fashion, business formal, has barely changed in
over a hundred years.” Says Stacy
“Maybe on the men’s side, but fashion
is aimed towards women anyways. Women’s fashion is always changing.” Says
Stella
“It’s sad that women can’t find
something more relevant to be petty about. It’s ironic that they can’t
acknowledge their voluntarily subjecting themselves to objectification rather
than even attempting to be a person. They just want to be an object that looks
pretty.” Says Stacy
“For thousands of years that’s basically all that a woman could be, old habits
die hard, you know.” Says Stella
“The worst part is now they expect you
to be an intelligent, hardworking, and successful object that looks pretty that
holds a full time job and still works another 40 hours a week as a homemaker
and a mother. It’s not like women did themselves any favors by forcing
themselves into the workplace unless they were some sort of spinster without
any traditional prospects.” Says Stacy
“I can see your point. Women might have
been too ambitious, but that is also probably the reason why birthrates have
been suffering for the last few decades.” Says Stella
“The good thing is that plenty of
people are just irresponsible enough to have children despite lacking the
capacity to raise them on account of work. We were lacking on the parenting
department and we turned out fine.” Says Stacy
“You are a little out there, but who
knows why that is.” Says Stella
“I don’t know, I’ll just take the easy
way out and blame a chemical imbalance and hormones like everybody else.” Says
Stacy
“That sounds reasonable enough, I’m
sure most people who say that’s the root of their problem couldn’t explain it
any further than that, so if you’ve got that line committed to memory your
defense of your quirks is up to par. Let’s go get ready for school.” Says
Stella, starting to head upstairs, Stacy follows with much less enthusiasm
“You’re always too eager to dive into
the midnight sea.” Says Stacy, as the girls get ready
“Ride the tiger.” says Stella
“You’re planning on riding me, eh?”
jokes Stacy
“I wouldn’t mind that.” Says Stella,
playfully
“Good.” Says Stacy, as the girls go to
brush their teeth and return to their room
“Ready?” asks Stella
“Just one thing.” Says Stacy
“What is it?” asks Stella, Stacy grabs
her by the hips and holds her closely, staring into her eyes boldly
“I don’t think I’ve thanked you
properly for breakfast.” Says Stacy, playfully, as Stella looks at her,
thoroughly pleased with Stacy’s unprecedented advance. Stacy begins to kiss
Stella lovingly, using copious gratefulness as an indistinguishable substitute
for passion, conscientiously obliging Stella’s request from yesterday, mildly
entertained but largely out of an obligation to be courteous. Stella strokes
Stacy’s face and hold’s he close, as her passion quickly exceeds Stacy’s, her
mind painfully addicted to the feeling of believing she is actually important
to somebody. Eventually Stacy shifts her mouth to Stella’s neck, kissing it
lovingly, attempting to find some way to end the charade that she realizes may
well last much longer than she anticipated.
“I love you so much, Stacy.” Whispers
Stella passionately into Stacy’s ear, holding her tightly
“We have to go.” Says Stacy, looking at
Stella a bit confused by her readiness to relinquish her responsibilities
“When you appreciate me like that, it
just fills a hole in my heart and my body just melts in your arms I’m so happy.
Thank you for that. ” Says Stella, who kisses Stacy’s cheek softly
“That’s all I want to do, I just want
to make you happy. Remember that.” Says Stacy, being honest with Stella, driven
more so out of fear and concern than anything else, but pleased that the
precautions taken to avoid danger are rather harmless and peaceable
“You won’t let me forget that tonight,
will you?” asks Stella, deviantly
“Of course not.” Says Stacy, playfully,
enjoying her new boulder to push up the mountain far more than the old one as
it takes much less effort to make what was once a seemingly impossible amount
of progress up the mountain
“I look forward to it.” Says Stella,
kissing Stacy softly with a flirtatious playfulness before going to get her
things
“You sure you’ll be back to normal by
the time we get to school?” asks Stacy
“I adapt to my environment, so in a
stern and serious place like school, that’s what I’ll be, but thankfully you
get to enjoy the finer parts of me.” Says Stella
“I do enjoy them thoroughly. I just
need to figure out a way to make it 99% finer parts when I’m around you and I’d
be in paradise.” Jokes Stacy
“Maybe one day.” Teases Stella as they
head downstairs
“Bye, dad.” Says Stella merrily
“We’re off, remember what we talked
about, ok?” asks Stella
“Have fun girls. Don’t worry, I’m not
forgetting my survival instincts any time soon, I wouldn’t be alive without
them.” Says Dale
“That good. Bye now.” Says Stacy as the
girls walk out the door
“Can I hold your hand on the way to
school?” asks Stella coquettishly
“I know you want to, but we should at
least try to appear normal.” Says Stacy with reluctance
“I was trying to be normal. I really
want you to hold all of me close to you if we go anywhere.” Says Stella,
already feeling slightly abandoned, longing for closeness
“Maybe one day. I don’t know if the
world is ready for that. If we keep to ourselves we don’t have to worry about
explaining ourselves.” Says Stacy
“What is there to explain? We love each
other.” Says Stella
“We love each other a lot, that’s just
what I’m trying to get at.” Says Stacy, really attempting to avoid living such
a life in public
“I think we can find a happy medium
between our public and private lives.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure people would start
asking questions, if either one of us became friendly and playful overnight,
seeing how neither of us really are, especially with each other.” Says Stacy
Stella rolls her eyes, let down,“I
guess I have no choice but to look forward to that ‘one day’” says Stella
“You could always look forward to this
afternoon.” Says Stacy, suggestively
“That doesn’t help me with the things I
want to do to you right now.” Says Stella, returning the deviance
“There’s a time and place for
everything.” Says Stacy
“Stacy withdrawal is so painful,
especially when I’m looking right at you.” Says Stella
“I’m sure, but hopefully school will
help with that. Out of sight, out of mind, you know.” Says Stacy
“I’ll just have to satiate myself with
fantasy for the time being.” Says Stella, longingly, already fading into
fantasy
“That’s probably a better idea.
Fantasies never get you into trouble if you never let them escape your mind.”
Says Stacy
“I never will, not until we’re alone,
that is.” Says Stella
“Good. Save it all for me. I’ll happily
make your dreams come true.” Says Stacy
“Damn it, Stacy. You know how much it
hurts to be teased like that?” Jokes Stella
“Sorry, I’ll try to let you get in the
proper mindset for school.” Says Stacy
“I’m starting to loathe school as much
as you do.” Jokes Stella
“Heaven forbid Stella has to settle for
her second favorite thing in the world for 8 hours.” Jokes Stacy
“It’s hard when I’m so close to my
favorite thing the whole time.” Says Stella
“I don’t want to spoil your appetite.”
Jokes Stacy, still entertained and pleased with the Stella that is happy with
her for once
“You’re going to satisfy me when we get
home, right?” asks Stella
“Of course, I’ll enjoy every second of
it too.” Says Stacy, salaciously
“I’ll just let that console me all
day.” Says Stella
“Just don’t get too lost in your
fantasies.” Says Stacy
“If you somehow manage to pay attention
and get work done with your head in the clouds all day, I’m sure I’ll be fine
even if I have you on the back of my mind all day.” Teases Stella
“That’s a good point.” Says Stacy
The girls eventually approach the gates
of the old grey farmer, broad and boxy with Victorian bourgeois charm as his
old body, no worse for wear, slowly and consistently reaps the youthfulness and
gaiety of young girls, leaving them with the stubble of their once bountiful
harvest that is poised to be burned by their subservience to the capitalist
machine in the largely foolish hopes that one day a far more lucrative crop
will bloom from the barren and ash-laden fields.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Says Stella, playfully
innocent, looking deeply into her sister’s eyes
“Ta ta, for now, love.” Says Stacy,
feigning British accent
“Ta ta.” Says Stella as she walks off,
quietly, deprived to the point of depravity, washing her deviant mind with
shameless fantasies
Stacy walks into class; pleased twice
over by Stella’s cooking as well has Stella’s uncharacteristic satisfaction
with her sister
“You look cheery today. Are you that
happy to escape from Stella’s wrath?” Jokes Jenna
“She’s happy with me, ironically
enough. She fed me so well this morning I can’t help but be happy.” Says Stacy
“I’m surprised that you can keep her
happy enough to feed you.” Says Jenna
“It’s not hard. She’s a simple girl in
the end.” Says Stacy
“I know. You just have trouble handling
simple tasks sometimes.” Teases Jenna
“I’m learning. Maybe it’s the whole
teenage emotions thing, but I’m starting to become slightly aware of people’s
feelings.” Says Stacy
“That’s something a small child is
capable of doing.” Says Jenna, dryly
“Well, I’m still a small child, after
all, so I wouldn’t say I’m late to that party.” Says Stacy
“You’re almost an adult, albeit a small
adult, but I’m pretty sure toddlers have more emotional awareness than you do.”
Says Jenna
“You don’t know how sensitive I’ve been
to Stella lately, real caring and stuff. It’s remarkable.” Says Stacy
“Good. I’m glad you decided it was worth your while to make an effort in that
department rather than write it off completely like you usually do.” Says Jenna
“If I knew Stella would cook me even
better food, I easily would have done it a long time ago.” Jokes Stacy
“You’re terrible Stacy. You’re supposed
to do it because you care about her, not because she feeds you.” Says Jenna
“Clearly I do it because I care; I
wouldn’t even know there was a reward if I didn’t do it in the first place.”
Says Stacy
“I’m just glad Stella knows how to
condition you like the dog that you are.” Jokes Jenna
“I’m not going to bite the hand that
feeds me.” Says Stacy
“At one point I was not sure if you were smart enough, but I’m glad you’ve
discovered the ancient wisdom of a dog.” Says Jenna
“Dogs are pretty smart after all.” Says
Stacy
“Tallness is relative to one’s own
height, but that’s beside the point. You easily made my day, as terrible as
your reasoning is, I’m glad you’re actually attempting to be a better person.”
Says Jenna
“Me too, it feels good.” Says Stacy
“Heartwarming, to say the least. Go sit
down, I don’t want to look like some socialite talking to you. Thanks for the chat
though, brightened up my Tuesday.” Says Jenna, returning to refreshing herself
with her notes from yesterday’s lesson and the notes she took on the novel
“I’ll leave you be.” Says Stacy as she
goes to sit down
“I’m surprised it took Jenna that long
to get fed up with you, considering it’s first thing in the morning.” Teases
Ophelia
“She’s proud of me for managing to keep
Stella happy for two days in a row.” Says Stacy, proud of herself
“I am too. I knew you could do it if
you tried.” Says Ophelia
“It’s not too hard. I don’t mind doing
it either. I get a happy Stella and she’ll cook me even better food.” Says
Stacy
“If it’s not hard why didn’t you do it before?” asks Ophelia
“It’s just kind of abnormal for me,
pleasing her isn’t exactly second nature to me, but it’s getting there.” Says
Stacy
“Of course being sensitive and doing
your homework are abnormal things to you. I’m glad you’re willing to try and
make a change for the better though.” Says Ophelia
“I definitely learned my lesson in
regards to being sensitive.” Says Stacy
“It took you long enough.” Jokes
Ophelia
“I’m just glad things are shipshape
between us now. Adding being upset with me on top of the usual Stella demands
would be a nightmare.” Says Stacy
“I bet. You know you should really do
it for her, because you care about her, not just so you can avoid conflict.”
Says Ophelia
“I care about her; I guess I was just
bad at letting her know that before.” Says Stacy
“Yeah. Like really bad. Thankfully it
sounds like you’re getting better.” Says Ophelia
“I’ve got a knack for picking up
survival skills.” Jokes Stacy
Ophelia rolls her eyes “How about
people skills?” she asks
“I’m getting there, at least in regards
to Stella.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. I want you two to be
thriving, not just surviving.” Says Ophelia
“We are. Don’t worry.” Says Stacy,
bashfully
“That makes me happy. You know I can
worry like Stella a little bit when things look bad, especially between two of
my friends.” Says Ophelia
“Things are a lot better now. You don’t
need to worry.” Says Stacy
“I’ll take your word for it. Did you do
the reading?” asks Ophelia
“I looked at the book.” Says Stacy
“How far did you get?” asks Ophelia
“I looked at the cover.” Says Stacy
“Of course your laziness still managed
to slip through Stella’s fingers somehow. Don’t worry, it’s just the guy losing
his job and being upset about it, then his wife is upset with him, and he gets
upset. It’s pretty dismal.” Says Ophelia
“I figured it would be something along
those lines.” Says Stacy
The teacher coughs at the front of the
class and starts to drum steadily on the humdrum and the girls march in rhythm
to the humdrummery. The drill sergeant occasionally shouts aggressively in a
coarse melody to which a private will respond with by shouting aggressively
back in a similarly course melody, this militant humdrummery continues, broken
by the occasional bell ringing which shifts the girls into the hands of another
drill sergeant who continues with the communal effort to prepare the girls to
wage economic warfare. Stacy walks with Ophelia between classes, she see’s
Grace approaching.
“Grace, can I talk to you for a
second.” Says Stacy
“Sure.” Says Grace
“Ophelia, you can go to class, I don’t
want you to make you look like a dawdler. This will only be a moment.” Says Stacy
“Ok. I’ll see you this afternoon
Grace.” Says Ophelia cutely, as she walks away
“See you later.” Says Grace, a bit
timidly in the presence of Stacy
“You’re a lesbian, right?” asks Stacy
quietly
“What? I mean, you know, clearly. Why?”
Says Grace, also quietly
“How do two girls have sex?” asks
Stacy, a bit embarrassed
“Is this about Ophelia?” asks Grace, a
bit nervous
“No. That’s you’re business. If you do
that sort of thing with her, just don’t call if that, call it something that
sounds nice and normal.” Says Stacy
“Ok. Why do you want to know exactly?”
asks Grace
“My friend is just curious, so I
thought I could ask you.” Says Stacy
“And it’s not Ophelia?” asks Grace
“No. I’m sure she doesn’t even know
much if anything about regular sex, let alone any other kind. Just a quick
rundown would be great.” Says Stacy
“Well, there’s kissing, all over the
body too, not just the mouth, working the breasts and nipples, girls like that.
Fingering. You can eat a girl out, there’s tribbing…” says Grace
“I know the first two, what are the
other ones exactly?” asks Stacy
“Well, the first you just use your
tongue to work her clit, and if you want to really get her off you can add in
fingers at the same time. The other one is just like scissor sex.” Says Grace,
putting her fingers together like two pairs of scissors
“What is the clit?” asks Stacy
“It’s that little bump down there, the
really sensitive part.” Says Grace
“Ok, thank you. I know this was maybe
embarrassing, but I’m thankful you helped me out here. My friend will be happy
with this I’m sure.” Says Stacy
“Are you a lesbian?” asks Grace, a bit
confused
“What? No. My friend just couldn’t
fathom how it was done and was curious so I told her I could maybe find out. Obviously
they didn’t teach us that stuff in sex ed, you know?” says Stacy, embarrassed
“Ok. Glad I could help. It’s really not
that crazy.” Says Grace
“Thanks again.” Says Stacy, her heart
racing a bit from the embarrassment yet nobody seemed to pay them any mind
“Have fun, I’ll see you later.” Says
Grace
“Heed my words in regards to your
friend friend.” Says Stacy
“I will, don’t worry.” Says Grace, a
bit giddy at the thought as the girls part ways and fall back in line marching
to the beat of the humdrum with their sisters at arms. The lunch bell rings and
the girls are released to the mess so that they may fuel the furthering of the
intellectual and economic conquest. The trio files in and out of the line and
take to the usual table, comfortably lacquered in the Bay City sunshine.
“You girls want the good news or the
bad news?” asks Stacy
“The good news.” Says Ophelia
“The bad news, clearly.” Says Jenna,
unentertained
“Luckily for the both of you it’s the
same news. We’re going to polish our rings a healthy plenty this afternoon, if
you girls would be so kind as to join me.” Says Stacy
“Mine is still pretty white.” Says
Ophelia, a bit scared by the proposal
“Mine is fine as well, I keep an eye on
yours and it was still silvery this morning, Stacy.” Says Jenna
“I only say this because there is a
golden opportunity that should give us the rest of the week off in regards to
our civic duty.” Says Stacy
“So it likely involves putting our
lives on the line, and you want to do this in the middle of the day when
everyone can see us? That’s crazy.” Says Jenna
“Nothing like that at all. We stroll
up, do our good deeds, and walk away. There’s no danger at all, no guns or
knives or anything.” Says Stacy
“What do you plan on doing if you don’t
have a gun?” asks Jenna
“Well, I have a gun, there’s no other
guns besides that one.” says Stacy
“Amazing. Riddle me this golden
opportunity while you’re still so eager. I want to see if my common sense can
detect danger any better than your omniscience.” Says Jenna
“We just go to church and be good
people. It’s that simple.” Says Stacy
“You’re kidding me, right?” asks Jenna
“I don’t think just going to church is
going to help that much. There isn’t even a service on Tuesday.” Says Ophelia
“That’s the point.” Says Stacy
“You’re going to confess?” asks Ophelia
“Well, somebody is going to confess.”
Says Stacy
“You should be the one to do it, you
need it the most.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll give you a hint; it’s neither of
the three of us.” Says Stacy
“You’re just going to make somebody
confess to a crime or something?” asks Jenna
“Pretty much, save a few innocent lives
on account of it.” Says Stacy
“That’s pretty lofty, even from you.
What do you expect us to do?” asks Jenna
“You two are just the distraction. I’ll
tell you later, but there’s no risk involved to either of you two, unless you
think a priest will kill you or something.” Says Stacy
“No. I would say this is stupid but I
know you’re beating around the bush. I’m sure you wouldn’t lie to yourself
about the amount of polish you can put on the damn ring by doing something
easy.” Says Jenna
“If we’re going to church, you should
at least confess. It’s nice that you’re just getting a bad guy so fess up to
being a bad guy after what you did last time.” Says Ophelia
“Well, I’ll just say I’m doing a nice
thing for the innocent victims. I don’t want to fill you in too much, seeing
how the only risk is the police getting involved, and technically you two don’t
even need to know what exactly I am doing.” Says Stacy
“Good. I couldn’t stomach another one
of your bright ideas; give me a bit more time to digest the last one.” Says
Jenna
“You don’t think the police will be
suspicious if we go after criminals in broad daylight dressed up like that?”
asks Ophelia
“It’s Bay City; you are forgetting how
many weirdos dress up in costumes every day. Nobody will bat an eye. Besides,
the only one who can talk to the cops is a priest, and I am fairly certain he
will put faith in god and believe in good deeds more than attempt to seek
retribution on account of a criminal being brought to justice.” Says Stacy
“Since it seems like you’re the only
one risking anything, I’m fine with it. If anybody does somehow see through our
disguises, I am completely in the dark as to what you are doing. I am willing
to talk to a priest for you or whatever, but that’s it. Doing these things in
the middle of the night is one thing, but in broad daylight it is just
reckless.” Says Jenna
“I’ll go too. I think Stacy has a good
plan for once, even if she has to point the gun at somebody to make them
confess.” Says Ophelia
“Then it’s settled. Now we just need an
alibi. You two were at my house doing schoolwork with me, ok?” asks Stacy
“That’s fine. Let’s hope we don’t need
to use it.” Says Jenna
“What do we tell Isabelle and Grace if
they want to hang out again?” asks Ophelia
“We’ll just say I’m behind on my work
and you’ve got two have got to save me from Stella’s wrath. That sounds normal
enough.” Says Stacy
“At least your alibis are pretty good.
Let’s just hope this idea goes off without a hitch. I’m sure it is something
remarkably unsettling if you think it will keep your ring white all week and
save innocent lives. You’ve really become ambitious.” Says Jenna
“Seldom does life present me with such
an opportunity to accomplish great things for so little effort. I’m simply
trying to make the most of it.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. I’m glad you’re not
putting yourself in danger again. That’s too scary.” Says Ophelia
“I didn’t put myself into danger last time;
I slipped into danger on account of my foolishness. It won’t happen again.”
Says Stacy
“I’m almost grateful we’re in this
situation if it was the only thing that was capable of causing you to
acknowledge even a small fraction of your foolishness. You tend to only learn
the hard way; what is so displeasing about the easy way I’ll never know.” Says
Jenna
“I just had to learn the hard way that
it is more preferable to learn the easy way. I’ve sharpened my mind, have no
fears.” Says Stacy
“That’s kind of hard, but I’ll try. We don’t have a choice in the long run, and
if this is a safe option I’m all for it since we get a lot of credit for
helping you.” Says Ophelia
“Huzzah. Let’s carry on with the
normalcy for now and change the subject, I don’t want to worry you two too
much.” Says Stacy
“Thank you. It’s a bitter pill to
swallow, but I also understand our hands are just as forced as yours for the
most part.” Says Jenna
“I’m still curious as to how you are
keeping Stella happy, that’s almost unheard of.” Says Ophelia
“How she is allegedly keeping Stella happy.” Says Jenna
“I just stopped saying stupid things
that she didn’t like and try to do what she wants me to. It’s nothing, really.”
Says Stacy
“I’m certain that’s all it takes to
make her happy, but I’m just cautious to believe that you actually do those
things.” Says Jenna
“I have put Stella through a lot
recently, and I’m just trying to make it up to her. I don’t need more problems
on top of the ones we can’t do anything about.” Says Stacy
“Thank you for swallowing your pride
for once in order to make somebody happy. I know it’s damn near impossible to
swallow since it’s so big, but if you’ve managed to do it, I’m relieved.” Says
Jenna
“That’s mean, Jenna.” Says Ophelia,
chuckling
“It’s the truth, just make sure you
keep it down so that it doesn’t rear its ugly head again, at least not around
Stella.” Says Jenna
“I can promise you that. Not around
Stella, of course. Unfortunately for you, I’m not as concerned with your
reactions to my ramblings.” Says Stacy
“I’m fine with your rantings; usually
they are fairly amusing even if only out of pure foolishness. It’s your
reckless actions that I tend to be more concerned about, but that’s something
else altogether.” Says Jenna
“I kind of like your ideas too, well
maybe not the ideas but the fact that you enjoy talking about them in your
ambitious style. You remind me of all of those speakers we see sometimes in
history talking big to crowds of people, it’s kind of cool.” Says Ophelia
“I appreciate that. Stella seems to
think it’s nothing but me wildly driving a car drunk on a winding road, but so
be it.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think so, it’s more like you
shouting at the bar your intentions to wildly drive your car drunk on a winding
road alongside your plan to get all the way to Reno and win a few million
dollars while you’re there.” Says Jenna
“You know, plenty of people gamble
because they find it to be a thrilling experience, they don’t really expect to
win.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you are only satisfied by the
most absurd and lofty thrill seeking possible, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as
entertaining if you were satisfied by rollerblading or something. Says Jenna
“I couldn’t respect myself if I told
people that my ambitions in life were working a lowly job and rollerblading in
my free time.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure those people can actually
reach a point in their life where they fulfil their ambitions. That’s got to be
worth something.” Says Jenna
“I think to myself, I’ve got job
security and I’m strapping on my rollerblades, this is the climax of my life, I
guess it’s all downhill from here. I would die a little inside.” Says Stacy
“But you’re on rollerblades, so going
downhill is the best part.” Says Ophelia cutely
“Until you fall down and tumble down
the hill painfully for the rest of your life.” Says Stacy
“That happens to everybody for the most part, regardless of rollerblading.”
Says Jenna
“I think rollerblading just gets you
there a lot quicker. Falling down on asphalt hurts enough; I don’t see why I
would want to go thirty miles an hour doing so.” Says Stacy
“Good point.” Says Jenna
“You want my milk? You might need it if
you’re going after bad guys today.” Says Ophelia
“Sure. You might make me start going
after bad guys every day if you give me treats like this.” Says Stacy, taking
the milk
“Please, no.” says Ophelia
“I’m kidding. Thanks, I do appreciate
it. Nothing gets me in the spirit for doing good deeds like sweet delicious
milk.” Says Stacy, drinking heartily
“Somehow you are the least reluctant of
all of us to go and do these sorts of things, even after Saturday night.” Says
Jenna
“This is nothing like Saturday, don’t
worry. I wouldn’t be so eager if it weren’t such easy pickings.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure you described Saturday
as something along the lines of easy pickings.” Says Jenna, dryly
“I’ve since made it much more difficult
to qualify as easy. Me and Stella talked about this.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad Stella was able to talk some
sense into you, you were pretty reckless going after somebody with a gun.” Says
Ophelia
“That wasn’t the issue, but that’s
beside the point.” Says Stacy
“The issue wasn’t getting shot?” asks
Jenna, boldly dry
“That was the issue. It wasn’t the gun
wielding thug.” Says Stacy
“Those tend to go hand in hand.” Says
Jenna
“You clearly didn’t see me drop the
bastard before he could even notice me out of the corner of his eye. I was
reckless in leaving a gun within arm’s reach of a traumatized girl.” Says Stacy
“You realize that describes your living
situation perfectly, right?” asks Jenna
“I healed the trauma, Stella is
perfectly fine now.” Says Stacy
“That is damn near impossible to
believe, Stacy. I could see making amends, but you wouldn’t even know how to
start healing that trauma.” Says Jenna
“We healed the trauma together, ok? She
talked me through it; I just had to oblige her.” Says Stacy
“That sounds like you just lied
profusely to your sister by telling her what she wanted to hear.” Says Jenna
“It was more honest than that, she
understands what we are tasked with. Thankfully you two were able to help her
come to grips with the ring thanks to your little fashion show. She just wants
me to be more careful, and I am dead set on doing that.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. Stella is really smart,
so I’m sure she was able to understand our jobs as witches.” Says Ophelia
“You realize being smart makes it much
harder to come to grips with that?” asks Jenna
“Why?” asks Ophelia
“It would seem like utter nonsense to anybody with half a brain.” Says Jenna
“Regardless, she knows the truth and
that’s enough. She thought I was crazy all week and I’m glad I don’t have to
argue about that anymore.” Says Stacy
“You are crazy, but that’s beside the
point.” Jokes Jenna
“I thought we were going with quirky.”
Says Stacy
“I apologize, you are just quirky. That
is what you are. Not crazy at all.” Says Jenna, amused, playfully rolling her
eyes
“I like to think that. Crazy people are
fools; I’ve got my wits about me, after all.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think you’re crazy. You’ve got
your quirks but you don’t babble on about nonsense and talk to things that
aren’t there or whatever.” Says Ophelia
“There are more types of crazy than
that, but I’ll leave it be.” Says Jenna
“I’m pretty sure in the modern era
there are zero types of crazy. It’s not politically correct to call somebody
crazy, therefore nobody is crazy.” Says Stacy
“You would prefer the term mentally
ill?” asks Jenna
“I would find that even more so
disparaging, if I were crazy that is. I’d probably fight for social justice and
get something along the lines of delightful mandated for the politically
correct terminology.” Says Stacy
“I think that might cause people to
brush off the seriousness of mental illness.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure it would make them feel less
ostracized though. I’m sure the social stigma hurts just as much as the illness
itself sometimes. If we can’t fix the illness, we may as well attempt to fix
the stigma.” Says Stacy
“Speaking of people getting hurt; how
is your arm? It looked really bad from what I could see on Saturday.” Says
Ophelia
“It’s right as rain, like a childhood
scab at this point thanks to Jenna’s miraculous healing skills. It’s sore, but
that’s fine, I don’t use that arm for much anyways.” Says Stacy
“I’m amazed to be honest, but I’m sure
you’re being euphemistic about it.” Says Jenna
“Less so than you might think, it’s
healing up nicely to say the least.” Says Stacy
“That’s good; even if it is only
helping me build confidence in my abilities while sacrificing some of your
ability to learn from your mistakes.” Says Jenna
“I’ve learned enough. Getting shot does
that to a person. Jesus. I’m not a rock.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope so, if you get shot again
you know I’m going to half-ass the magic so you actually learn your damn
lesson.” Says Jenna
“I’m not getting shot again, so sadly
you won’t have the opportunity to educate me through your bumptious spite.”
Says Stacy
“Let’s hope she doesn’t have to. If
Stacy does get shot you have to do your best though, Jenna. If she dies it
would be your fault if all you had to do was heal her.” Says Ophelia
“You’re lucky the Hippocratic Oath
binds me so that I have no choice.” Says Jenna
“So, you’re already a doctor?
Congratulations.” Jokes Stacy
“My parents will teach you the
Hippocratic Oath well before they delve into the bible.” Says Jenna
“I figured. It makes sense that they’d
rather have a doctor for a child than a nun.” Says Stacy
“What’s wrong with being a nun?” asks
Ophelia
“Nothing, really, it just doesn’t quite
pay the bills as well.” Says Stacy
“They seem to do just fine.” Says
Ophelia
“I think my parents just have more
faith in medicine than they do in god.” Says Jenna
“That’s kind of sad.” Says Ophelia
“They still believe in god, don’t get
me wrong, they just don’t think that god is going to solve anybody’s problems
or help anybody. They kind of just see him as the force that judges souls and
what not, not somebody who meddles in the affairs of humans.” Says Jenna
“God works in mysterious ways, I’m sure
if you keep your eyes peeled you might notice a miracle or God’s hand helping
somebody every now and again.” Says Ophelia
“After seeing Stacy survive getting shot at point blank range, that put some
faith in me for sure.” Says Jenna
“That gave me plenty of faith in god
too. It seemed more like god’s foot doing the helping, but that’s just my
perspective.” Jokes Stacy
“If anybody need’s god watching over
them it’s you, Stacy, so I would do your best at having some legitimate faith
for once.” Says Jenna
“I’d say my faith is legitimate as long
as I believe. Who really has the authority to judge proper faith from improper
faith?” Says Stacy
“God, for one.” Says Jenna
“Yeah, definitely God.” Says Ophelia
“Well, seeing how he was so kind to
look out for me on Saturday night and save my life, I’m going to go ahead and
have faith that I’m doing the whole believing in god thing right.” Says Stacy
“You’re bold, but you’ve got a point to
be honest. I think we learned this lesson in church, so I’m not going to strike
your faith down or anything.” Says Jenna
“I am pleasantly surprised.” Says
Stacy, grinning
“I don’t know what to believe right
now, so consider yourself lucky, I guess. Being indifferent isn’t as hard as
you might think.” Says Jenna
“Contemplating your agnosticism along
with the legitimacy of god is the first step towards actually having faith.”
Says Stacy
“I believe in god, I’m just unsure as
to if you’re actually god’s servant or whatever. It’s kind of spooky to even
think of that sort of thing, but you tend to be blessed with an irrational
number of miracles.” Says Jenna
“I think we’re all servants of God, why
else would we be tasked with doing good things and blessed with magic to help
us? Clearly God wants us to help him.” says Ophelia
“Let’s go with that. If I’m ever on
trial and just argue vehemently that I am a puppet of God and am executing
God’s will on the planet, I’m sure they’ll take it easy on me.” Says Jenna
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
The police could care less about stopping bad people, let alone good people.”
Says Stacy
“I’ll be merrily drunk on optimism for
the rest of the foreseeable future. I’ve got to sleep at night somehow.
Anyways, it’s time to go.” Says Jenna, as the second lunch bell rings
The large herd of animals moseys over
to their respective clubs, a select few among the ranks of the animals
dedicated to mutual appreciation of their fellow animals. Stacy and her
companions find themselves in the usual spot in the back while Stacy salivates
over the prospect of premeditated murder with no chance of being shot herself.
Aurelia instructs the girls to get started on their usual business and shoots
the gun signaling the dogs to amble over to the magazines and return to their
lab-room tables in order to look busy. The girls sit around one half of a lab
table, with a couple of chairs pulled up behind to accommodate the size of their
posse. The girls continue with their usual Animal Club pastimes.
“So, Stacy, what did you want to talk
to Grace about earlier, anyways?” asks Ophelia, absentmindedly, not looking up
from her magazine
“Oh, what? Nothing. I just was asking
if it would send the wrong kind of message to other girls if I painted my
nails. I asked because she tends to understand how to tell if feminine things
are harmless of they promote that sort of objectification.” Says Stacy, lying
blatantly and haughtily, embarrassed by the thought of her talk
“What? You actually talked to her about
girly stuff? Since when are you girly?” teases Ophelia
“I just was checking to see if it was
too girly or if I could get away with it and not lose respect for my
brazenness.” Says Stacy, Grace looks at her and smiles with feigned innocence
“I think you should do it, you can get
away with most colors and nobody will think much of it.” says Grace, playing
along
“I am also surprised by this, what
color were you thinking?” asks Jenna
“I don’t know, pink.” Says Stacy
offhandedly, not having thought of any color
“I would think you were more of a blood
red nails kind of girl.” Says Isabelle, also surprised at this point
“That’s more up my alley, but people
might notice. I don’t want people to think I care about my looks at all, that’s
the wrong kind of message to send to impressionable young girls. Nails are
normally pink anyways, so that’s why I said that, it would be hard to notice.”
Says Stacy
“It wouldn’t be hard to notice that
your nails are a super cute pink instead of the normal color pink, though.”
Says Ophelia
“I’m embarrassed already just thinking
about it.” Says Stacy
“I think we should paint your nails,
just to torture you with girly things.” Teases Jenna
“At this point my nails might end up
blood red regardless if you try that.” Says Stacy
“Kitty’s got claws.” Teases Isabelle,
the name causing Stacy the smile to fade from Stacy’s face for a moment, before
the name brought a different smile to her face none the less
“I think a cute baby blue would also be
cute, you’ve got so many possibilities. I think it would go great in contrast
with our uniform.” Says Ophelia
“I’m glad I don’t spend my days
thinking of these sorts of things.” Says Stacy
“Looking good never hurt anybody.” Says
Isabelle
“I’m pretty sure plenty of women are
targeted and hurt by salacious criminals for exactly that reason.” Says Stacy
“I think those sorts of people are more
opportunists than anything else.” Says Jenna
“It’s much less of an opportunity for
them if you look like a mess, that’s how I look at it.” Says Stacy
“Just don’t put yourself in the wrong
situations and you should be fine, you can’t use your fear of men to prevent
you from having fun and being cute every now and again.” Says Isabelle
“I’m just cautious. I have no interest
in being cute for anybody: I’m not seeking the company of men and I’m not petty
enough to compete with other girls. I just don’t see the appeal.” Says Stacy
“The appeal is that you yourself like
to look at yourself being cute, it feels great to get excited that you look
good. I’m sure if we doll you up good enough you might see the light.” Says
Ophelia
“I doubt it. I tend to think I look
good enough without being dolled up, I’d feel like some streetwalking vixen if
start to wear makeup like that.” Says Stacy
“I think you’d like it. If you already
think you look good, then I’m sure you’d like how you look with makeup on.”
Says Isabelle
“I’m not saying it would look bad, the
whole vanity thing is just not my cup of tea. It seems like a waste of time and
money all together. I should probably learn to do that stuff to some extent one
day in case I have job interviews or something, but other than that I’m not
trying to delude people by falsifying good looks on my face.” Says Stacy
“Me and Isabelle can teach you, so
don’t worry about that. It will be fun, I promise.” Says Grace
“I could use some tips too, my mom
taught me some basics but since Jenna and Stacy aren’t exactly girly girls we
don’t get to play around and experiment like we should. It’s kind of sad.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m with Stacy, I’m not going to waste time trying to look good for a bunch of
girls out of some insecure pettiness. If this wasn’t a girl’s school, maybe I
would care more about my looks, but I couldn’t care less about what a bunch of
catty girls think about me. I’m glad you girls can appreciate my company, I
don’t want to have to exercise vanity every morning in order to convince some
petty girls to give me the time of day, to hell with them.” Says Jenna
“I just do a little here and there; it
helps to look better than other girls when you’re arguing with them. I know,
I’m petty, kill me.” Jokes Isabelle
“You don’t really have to try in
regards to that with most of the girls in our neighborhood; I think their ugly
personalities have rubbed off on the faces over the years.” Says Grace
“Ouch. They would slap you so hard if
they heard that.” Says Isabelle
“It’s true though, they wouldn’t all
have resting bitch face if they weren’t inherently bitches all of the time.”
Says Grace
“Damn, you are ruthless today. Poor
kids could have been born with a bad mug and you’re just going to cite
personality flaws right off the bat. I can see where you’re coming from, most
of them are so damn petty it makes sense that they’re never happy and always
pissed off by any trivial trinket, bauble, smile, laugh, or even a wave that
one of their rivals got to the point that it makes them feel insecure and
competitive. It’s not healthy.” Says Isabelle
“I’m glad I’m not rich, I would get
real tired of people turning their nose up at me because their new bracelet or
earing makes them feel superior. That’s a miserable life if that’s how they gauge
their self-worth.” Says Stacy
“Well, clearly they have no other
aspects of their life that even resemble something somebody could draw
self-worth from.” Says Grace
“Damn. Maybe they have resting bitch
face because you’re so cruel, Grace.” Says Isabelle
“I doubt it, most of them know better
than to start that shit with me, I don’t let their ego see the light of day.
They’re spoiled children and it’s shameless, I’m not going to let them hold
onto any shred of pride they can find if they want to act like that, they don’t
deserve it. They should be ashamed of themselves for being so stupid and petty,
it would be wrong if I let them feel good about themselves on account of it.”
Says Grace
“I see your point. If you condone it
they start to come to you seeking approval and attention incessantly, it’s a
bother to constantly provide validation to petty people.” Says Isabelle
“Thankfully I’ve never had to give any
validation to Stacy, she’s a treasure-trove of homemade validation, and Ophelia
it would be hard not to validate to be honest.” Says Jenna
“Aww, thank you.” Says Ophelia
“I’m glad you’ve got some good friends,
a lot of the bitches I know think that a friend is somebody who will do nothing
but spend time with you demeaning other girls behind their backs.” Says Grace
“It’s the equivalent to a shoulder to
cry on for mean people, I guess.” Says Isabelle
“Why are the girls so mean?” asks
Ophelia
“They are insecure, they think the only
way they can get people to like them is if they demean and belittle other girls
with slander and what not to the point where the defamed girl they are talking
about is so disrespected that the lack of respect is at a comparable level to
the girl’s own lack of self-esteem, so at that point she feels like she can
compete for popularity again.” Says Stacy
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Says Grace
“Don’t you think you’re kind of doing
the same thing as they are by talking bad about them?” asks Jenna
“The difference is I am talking bad
about them as a collective, where as they talk bad about each other on an
individual level from within the collective. I’m putting myself above them and
it’s natural for somebody to have little respect for things that are below
them. They attempt to put themselves above each other by striking each other
down while remaining in the collective instead of simply rising above the
pettiness. That’s the difference.” Says Stacy
“Let’s go back to the nice topics like
beautifying Stacy.” Says Ophelia, Jenna chuckles
“That’s a pretty mean topic.” Says
Stacy
“I’m sure you would like it.” Says
Ophelia
“I want people to see the raw, savage,
and violent beast that is here today because it ruthlessly killed off every
last rival species of hominid that was competing for the same niche. That’s
what I am; I’m not some doll that simply exists to look pretty and be swooned
over and pose for photographs.” Says Stacy
“You can be both, you know.” Jokes
Isabelle
“I think it can be empowering, a lot of
people will give you more respect if you look good. It intimidates a lot of
people.” Says Grace
“I’d rather have my authority make a
man feel like he’s my prey being hunted rather than some schoolboy who I’m
going to punish because he was naughty and I’m some school mistress.” Says
Stacy
“That’s not exactly civil, Stacy.” Says
Jenna
“Ok, slave, not prey, better?” asks
Stacy
“Maybe a little bit.” Says Jenna
“I like it.” Says Grace
“Of course you like it. I just worry it
might be harder than you think, you’re not exactly carrying an imposing frame,
you know?” asks Isabelle
“I’ll leave the physical intimidation
to the lumberjacks; I can do plenty with mind games. If I had more meat on me
men might want to play rough, but they know the price for breaking a woman so
they’d be extra cautious around little old me.” Says Stacy
“That doesn’t mean you won’t get
broken, sadly.” Says Grace
“I can hold my own. I know their weak
points if worst comes to worst.” Says Stacy
“If it comes to that, I’m sure they
deserve it.” Says Grace
“I would be safe and have some kind of
protection on you, just to be safe. You’re quite dainty after all.” Says
Isabelle
“I’m not trying to end up in prison
when I’m done with the man who makes that misstep.” Says Stacy
“Maybe not that much protection, I was
thinking like pepper spray or an electroshock weapon.” Says Isabelle
“I think I can enjoy it more if I use
my bare hands. I could always have a knife up my skirt or something; give them
something to remember me by.” Says Stacy
“What happened to not going to prison?”
asks Jenna
“I’m sure the court would easily decide
that the frail five foot tall girl was acting in self-defense when the burly 6
foot man put his hands on her. I’ll have to hold myself back to prevent myself
from maiming and mutilating him, but that shouldn’t be too hard.” Says Stacy
“That really shouldn’t be hard at all
Stacy. Like zero on the difficulty scale, I don’t see who could find having
that sort of restraint difficult.” Says Jenna, a bit alarmed
“I’m sure I would find that difficult
too, if a man laid his hands on me. I’m hotheaded when it comes to that sort of
stuff.” Says Grace
“Great minds think alike.” Says Stacy,
proudly
“I don’t know how we shifted from a bad
topic to an even worse one; I don’t want to think about this kind of thing.”
Says Ophelia, getting upset
“You’re probably the one who is most
likely to be forced to defend yourself, unfortunately. You’ve got everything
men want.” Says Isabelle
“Hello? I’m nice. I don’t get into
fights with people.” Says Ophelia
“That doesn’t mean that bad men aren’t
going to try to do bad things to you if they get the chance.” Says Grace
“That has yet to happen to me, but I’m
sure if something like that does Stacy will fight them off or something.” Says
Ophelia
“You know I will.” Says Stacy
“I will too, if I’m with you at least.”
Says Grace
“Thanks. I don’t want to do that sort
of thing; I don’t think I even could.” Says Ophelia
“Just don’t put yourself in those
situations and you should be fine.” Says Jenna
“I don’t even know what those situations
are.” Says Ophelia
“Parties, for one, beyond that is even
stupider things like getting into cars with men.” Says Grace
“I don’t get into stranger’s cars for
one, and I’ve never been invited to a party, so you girls are worrying about
nothing.” Says Ophelia
“If men ever do catch your attention
and you give them the time of day, they’ll be knocking down your door day in
and day out.” Says Grace
“I wouldn’t mind the attention.” Says
Ophelia
“You would start to mind that kind of
attention pretty quick. Men are filthy animals.” Says Grace
“Hopefully she can just find a good guy
to protect her from the bad ones.” Says Isabelle
“I doubt since I’ve yet to find any
type of guy up until now. I would ask for help but you girls tend to think that
all guys are bad news so that doesn’t help me.” Says Ophelia
“To be frank, they are bad news until
you’re an adult. It might be fun but it can only lead to problems. You’re
better off focusing on your schoolwork until you have a stable life and then
look into dating. If you get caught up with men you might end up having to give
up school all together because you have a baby or something.” Says Jenna
“I’m sorry I like to have fun. Besides,
having a baby isn’t a bad thing.” Says Ophelia
“It is when it’s with some good for
nothing man; you want to hold out for the right guy who can actually take care
of you in the long run.” Says Jenna
“You can just have fun with us in the
meantime, I’m sure none of us could sleep easy knowing we have to entrust some
strange man to take care of you.” Says Stacy
“I do have fun with you guys, but I
still feel like I’m missing something in my life.” Says Ophelia
“You’re not missing anything but a
bunch of heartbreak and drama at best, and at worst you have a baby with some
scoundrel and ruin your life.” Says Grace
Ophelia rolls her eyes “Never the optimists
are we?” She says
“It’s just a gamble, sure it pays off
for plenty of girls and they’re no worse for wear, but it also has the capacity
to ruin your life. The girls are just unsure that you know how to gamble
responsibly is all.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t, but maybe I’ll just get
lucky.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not in favor of letting you risk
your entire future on the basis that you might be lucky.” Says Jenna
“I can’t win if I don’t play.” Says
Ophelia
“I just think you could do yourself and
learn the game a little bit better before you dive in headfirst.” Says Isabelle
“That’s what I hope for in the very
least.” Says Stacy
“The only one willing to help me is
Grace, and she’ll only teach me how to do it, not how to get there.” Says
Ophelia, Grace looks away a bit embarrassed, Stacy chuckles
“I could accompany you on your dates
and critique the men for you, but I’m sure nobody would like that.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know, we could do a double
date or something. I would like to have your opinion on it since you’re so
smart, you know?” says Ophelia
“That’s comforting, but it requires
that I find a date, which might be hard.” Says Jenna
“If worst comes to worst I can pretend
to be your date. Then we can both criticize the man thoroughly.” Says Stacy
“That’s not ideal at all Stacy, but
thanks for trying. I’m trying to preserve Ophelia’s image as a nice loving
normal girl, not somebody who is friends with insane weirdos.” Says Jenna
“If the man isn’t reasonable enough to
be ok with that, then he’s not right for Ophelia.” Says Grace
“I don’t think anybody in their right
mind would be ok with half of the things that Stacy says. They would likely be
on edge and start fearing for their life halfway through the date.” Says Jenna
“I would behave, I promise.” Says Stacy
“For some reason I doubt that.” Says
Jenna
“It shouldn’t be hard for you to find a
date, he might be boring since you’re so dry and studious but that’s not so
bad. A studious man is much better than a leather clad man who will accomplish
nothing but driving his motorcycle off of a cliff.” Says Isabelle
“Woah now, don’t get my hopes up saying
I could land my dream man.” Says Jenna, the girls laugh
“We should teach you how to flirt and
take you to the library, I’m sure you would make any guy’s day who is spending
his weekend studying.” Says Isabelle
“Hey there, sexy, you want me to quiz
you on human anatomy?” teases Stacy, the girls laugh
“Please, you know I’m not like that.”
Says Jenna, quite embarrased
“My bad. It would be more like ‘Oh,
you’re reading about Eastern Philosophy, if you want, we could explore each
other’s chakras.” Jokes Stacy
“I don’t think I could bring myself to
say that, either. Even that is too suggestive.” Says Jenna
“I’d
say you don’t have a chance, but I’m sure the guys you would like would just
freeze up if you said something like that.” Says Isabelle
“How about this one. You’re reading
about pharmacological interactions? If we’re together maybe we can potentiate
our learning capacity” says Stacy
“That sounds harmless enough, but
still. I’m pretty shy about that stuff.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure the guys would be even shyer
if some beautiful girl comes up to them and starts talking about learning.
That’s like two dreams coming true at once if they spend their weekends at the
library.” Says Isabelle
“You shouldn’t have any problems dating
smart guys since you could easily impress them with your knowledge.” Says
Ophelia
“That kind of requires talking to them
at first.” Says Jenna
“You would both be such prudes that you
wouldn’t even have to worry about that sort of thing, you could just approach
it like a friendship.” Says Stacy
“That actually sounds feasible.” Says
Jenna
“I can’t believe we’re talking Jenna
into chasing men.” Says Isabelle
“It’s just a friendship, it’s not like
I’m hopping on back of some guy’s motorcycle.” Says Jenna
“You know you want love to come out of
it though, everybody does.” Says Ophelia
“It’s almost like Grace and Ophelia
would have to be there coaching her, otherwise she would just become friends
with the guys and spend all day studying and manage to never end up on a date.”
Says Isabelle
“That’s way more preferable to be honest;
I don’t even know what I would talk about on a date. At least if we’re studying
we have something to talk about.” Says Jenna
“You would love a date; you get to talk
about all of your obscure interests and things that interest you that would
bore anybody but a bookworm to death.” Says Stacy
“Good. I don’t want to spend time with
a guy who isn’t interested in me.” Says Jenna
“You realize that there is a difference
between you and the things you happen to know, right?” asks Stacy
“I’m largely just the collection of
things I know. What else is there?” asks Jenna
“You’re more than that, you’re caring
and wise and funny. It’s not like you’re just rattling off lines out of
textbooks all day.” Says Ophelia
“I wouldn’t mind being able to talk
about intellectual pursuits as opposed to arguing about common sense half of
the time.” Says Jenna
“I can you talking to a guy, he wins
you over saying ‘Baby, things are heating up between us, you’ve excited my
electrons and they’re already in the next shell, when we return to a state of
rest at the end of the night, I hope I will have brightened up your world.’”
Says Stacy
“I don’t get it.” Says Ophelia
“I think that’s cute, but it could
easily be suggestive of something else.” Says Jenna
“Cute, suggestive, and intelligent,
you’ve got high standards.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t think suggestive is a part of
that standard.” Says Jenna
“You know it is, nothing would get you
going more than a man talking dirty with intelligent puns and allegories.” Says
Stacy
Jenna rolls her eyes “I think a
reasonable man would have just as much success if not more.” Says Jenna
“There’s nothing wrong with reasonable
and quick witted though.” Says Isabelle
“That’s true, I doubt men out there
exist who would lay such cheesy lines on me though.” Says Jenna
“I’m pretty sure every man out there
would lay cheesy lines on you. They know it’s easier to make you like their
jokes than it is to make you like them as a person.” Says Grace
“It kind of seems like common sense,
they test the waters to see if you like bad jokes, and then if you do, they start
making moves because they have some confidence that you might like them, seeing
how they themselves and their lives are little but a bad joke.” Says Stacy
“Don’t kill the men, please. They just
want to make you laugh, it’s pretty harmless.” Says Isabelle
“They could just walk in front of me,
swing their arms open, and say ‘Ta-da’ if they wanted me to laugh at a bad
joke.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to open up a little bit;
you don’t want to be as bitter as Grace about men.” Says Isabelle
“I’ve got no time for games. I’m not
trying to waste time and be entertained by an idiot. I have actual goals in
mind, so fortunately for them I will likely save them the displeasure of having
to tolerate me over the course of a date.” Says Stacy
“Don’t beat yourself up like that. I’m
sure somebody out there would like you. I won’t say plenty of people because
most guys probably don’t like the idea of being enslaved and beaten with the
buttstock of a rifle, but I’m sure there’s a guy out there who does.” Jokes
Isabelle
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled. That’s a
type of relationship I would be fine with having.” Says Stacy
“You’re so bold Stacy, I love it.” Says
Grace
“You’ve got to be more open to finding
love, Stacy. If you constantly think of it as a waste of time you’ll never give
it a chance. That would be sad to think you lived your whole life never even tried
to find love.” Says Ophelia
“I’ve got plenty of love in my life
just be spending time with all of you, why would I look for romantic love when
it’s the same thing except I run the risk of heartbreak and physical and
psychological harm. It’s like I can take my paycheck, or gamble my paycheck on
a coin flip that at best wins me my money back and could easily take all of my
money.” Says Stacy
“It’s not the same Stacy, you will
realize that one day. Maybe we can make you happy but true love is much more powerful
than that.” Says Ophelia
“Regardless, love and misanthropy don’t
tend to coexist very well. It would be like planting crops in salted fields.”
Says Stacy
“Give yourself a break, Stacy. We know
there’s a soft spot underneath all of the rocky exterior.” Teases Jenna
“That’s like arguing there’s a reason
for a ship’s captain to destroy his boat by crashing it into a rocky shoal in
the hopes that he can swim to the pleasant looking beach in the distance,
regardless of the fact that he will more than likely drown when he attempts to
do so. Your girls are like birds; nice, pleasant company that can peacefully
exist on the island without burning down the forests and pillaging the natural
resources from the island. Men on the other hand would likely expect a bit more
out of me, and I’m not quite willing to entertain their fancies like that,
seeing how it doesn’t suit mine in the slightest. I don’t need any more
company, let alone company that expects some sort of special treatment. They
can go to hell for all I care.” Says Stacy
“It’s true that men will tear you apart
looking for what they want, destroy your natural self with their manipulative
bullshit, and thoroughly disrespect you by building monuments to themselves
like they are some kind of gods on the ravaged island that was once a
paradise.” Says Grace
“I’m sure there are some men that would
treat the island nicely and not cause problems.” Says Ophelia
“I would like to think so, but history
tends to argue otherwise. Men are more than willing to destroy what they find
in order to create what they want. That includes you, me, and anybody else for
that matter.” Says Isabelle
“I’m sure not every man has the
mentality of an imperialist.” Says Jenna
“The ones that don’t certainly aren’t
going to be exploring for new worlds to conquer. Unless you find one of the
docile ones and capture it yourself then some conquistador is going to find you
and try to ravage you like the New World.” Says Isabelle
“I’ll be damn sure to give them polio and
encephalitis if they try anything.” Says Stacy
“They deserve it. Too many girls are
willing to let men cut down their natural selves and build some artificial
effigy of the girl that was once there, all because they’re so desperate for
affection and attention. At that point it’s not worth it at all if your natural
beauty is destroyed and is replaced with some distorted and corrupt version of
yourself made up of all of the parts of you the man butchered and rearranged to
his liking.” Says Grace
“You do realize it is possible to
peacefully coexist with nature right?” asks Isabelle
“Every animal save for humans is
capable of easily doing that. If you want peaceful coexistence, get a pet or
something. Men have done nothing but mutilate nature and use necromancy to
manipulate its corpse in order to satisfy their whims and fancies. It’s human
nature.” Says Stacy
“Ten years from now we will hang out
and everyone will be talking about their boyfriends and how they are going to
get married and you will tell me ‘Ophelia, you were so right the entire time,
love is the greatest thing in the world’, and that will be an amazing time.” Says Ophelia
“Ten years is a long time from now.”
Says Stacy, grimly
“A very long time.” Says Jenna, also
grim
“10 years from now Grace will be in
prison for killing a man who looked at her wrong, Stacy will be dead from a
failed coup attempt, Ophelia will be having her second shotgun wedding, I will
be working 80 hours a week for a failing business and be too busy for love, and
Jenna will probably tell us about how wonderful her doctor boyfriend is.” Says
Isabelle
“That sounds more accurate.” Says
Stacy, chuckling
“What is a shotgun wedding?” asks
Ophelia
“It is something you’re not going to
have, so don’t worry about it. I doubt I will have a doctor boyfriend either.
The other stuff could easily come true though, sadly.” Says Jenna
“I’m just kidding, but if we aren’t
careful that stuff could easily happen.” Says Isabelle
“I’m just going day by day at this
point, it’s damn near impossible to predict the future so I’m not concerned
with it. If I’m forced to walk 1000 miles total from where I am right now, all
that means is I am somewhere within a circle with an area of 31.4 million
miles, I am swayed by the wind as much as my whims so I doubt there is a
soothsayer in the world that can predict them both over the course of a
thousand miles on foot.” Says Stacy
“You tend to be dead set on a certain
path Stacy; I don’t see you as that much of a wanderer.” Says Isabelle
“Columbus was dead set on a path to the
Orient, that doesn’t mean he got there. It’s not unlikely that something will
get in the way of my charted course.”
Says Stacy
“It’s more likely that everything will
get in the way of your charted course.” Says Jenna, smugly
“That doesn’t mean it will live to tell
the tale, however.” Says Stacy
“I don’t understand how you think you
can win a fight that is you against everything.” Says Jenna
“Well the vast majority of everything
has no will to fight, and that evens the numbers up right quick, the rest of
everything either has little capacity to do so or is a backbiting soldier of
fortune who will gladly join my ranks after promising them greater power and
glory for their service. If any members of everything remain loyal to their
kingdom, they will promptly know that the numbers are not in their favor.” Says
Stacy
“You’re theory of everything only
serves to explain that you understand nothing.” Says Jenna
“It sounds pretty reasonable to me.
Nobody is loyal to anything but false promises that never come true, if you ever keep a promise, the
promised ones become indignant because they always think they deserve more than
what they got.” Says Grace
“The horse won’t chase the carrot on a
stick if you let him eat it. It’s common sense, after all.” Says Stacy
“You really think people are as dumb as
horses?” asks Jenna
“Far stupider, horses are far less susceptible
to delusion, hope, optimism, and fallacy.” Says Stacy
“I think a horse might have you beat
when it comes to leading a successful coup then.” Jokes Isabelle
“Birds of a feather flock together,
thus I cannot lead the wolf pack if I am not a member of it.” Says Stacy
“Does that mean we’re all like Stacy,
if birds of a feather flock together?” asks Ophelia
“I think Stacy was getting at the point
that she is exactly like every other person on Earth, as normal as possible
when the dust settles.” Says Isabelle
“She’s a little silly, but I’m sure
everybody has their dreams, I know I’m about as enthusiastic about love even
though I might have just as hard of accomplishing my dreams.” Says Ophelia
“Your dreams are about a million times
more realistic than Stacy’s, don’t worry about that Ophelia.” Says Jenna
“I beg to differ, for Ophelia dreams of
love because she is prone to love, and I dream of usurpation because I am prone
to usurpation. It would not be unheard of for the lumberjack to chop wood, now,
would it?” asks Stacy
“Being prone to usurpation and prone to
success are two entirely different things all together, Stacy.” Says Jenna
“It’s not as much about being prone to
success as it is simply being less so prone to failure than your rivals. It is
not about who succeeds first, for success is largely impossible, it all comes
down to who has the capacity to refrain from failing first, the last man
standing is the victor, so they say.” Says Stacy
“I’ll go ahead and start my own
revolution, seeing how you’re easily the most likely out of all of us here to
fail a test, let alone a coup.” Says Jenna
“That would hardly be a revolution if
it was Jenna changing society to meet her ideals.” Jokes Isabelle
“It would probably be as strict as
Stacy’s society; Jenna’s not too fond of funny business.” Says Ophelia
“She would fail because she couldn’t
rally the people; it’s hard to tempt a hedonist into loyalty by promising him
the fruits of masochism.” Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t even try in the first
place. If you trial probability with 0 trials you end up with 0 failures.” Says
Jenna
“I’m at least willing to take my
chances. Life is a gambler’s paradise, you raise the stakes and you raise the
reward, the part of it is paradise is that the most you can risk is your life,
but you can play the odds indefinitely and win a 1,000,000 to one payout on
your life as opposed to a 1 to 1 or even a 1 to ½ or 1 to 0 payout. If I’m
going to lose my life regardless, I would sleep easier knowing I at least tried
to win it big instead of spending my entire life questioning myself and
thinking about what my life would be like if I had gambled and won big.” Says
Stacy
“It’s easier to sleep knowing you
didn’t recklessly throw your life away on some ridiculous pipe dream. If you
honestly think you can win with such terrible odds, just buy a lottery ticket
every day, if you have any common sense you will come to the conclusion that
you are basically guaranteed to lose. Every ticket is like you trying to see
your dreams come true and every ticket reminds you of how easy it is to fail in
doing so.” Says Jenna
“Rather than a gambling allegory, I’ll
just take the old fashioned American Dream, I will simply work hard and my
dreams will come true. Simple enough, right?” asks Stacy
“You’ve got to be a cutthroat
capitalist in order for the American Dream to be a realistic and feasible outcome;
otherwise you’re just putting hope in the American Delusion.” Says Isabelle
“Revolutions are paid for in blood, so
a cutthroat revolutionary could be a realistic mindset for someone of my
pursuits.” Says Stacy
“Realistic because it is absolutely
insane, but I know I can’t stop you, so knock yourself out.” Says Jenna
“A century ago it would be a much more
insane prospect to attempt to land a person on the moon, but today that is
something that is seen as a feasible task. I like to think that insane things
become more so feasible over time, so I may well have been born at the right
time if the communist revolutions of the previous century were feasible, I like
to think that my flavor of revolution could be feasible in this one.” Says
Stacy
“Humans are much more contented due to
technology then they were in the past, this sort of makes them much less prone
to revolution, unfortunately for you.” Says Isabelle
“I think I can rattle off enough
rhetoric to make their indignation hurt much more than poverty and hunger.
Humans are self-centered, self-serving and self-righteous beasts, after all.”
Says Stacy
“I’m surprised you don’t fall back on
the classic one-liner when you’re talking about riling up the disenfranchised,
‘seize the means of production’ isn’t it?” says Isabelle
“That is the backbone of my philosophy,
humans are the only means of production that exist, and I plan to seize them
thoroughly.” Says Stacy
“Yes, seize the people. That will
surely get the people on your side.” Says Jenna
“It will get them in the palm of my
hand at the very least.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got pretty small hands, Stacy.
I don’t think you could seize too many people.” Says Ophelia
“I simply tell the people that they are
the means of production and they will seize themselves for me. They’d rather
not let the means of production belong to the plutocrats and that is how I gain
their allegiance. I get the people as well as the means of production, two
birds with one stone.” Says Stacy
Jenna rolls her eyes “You’ve yet to seize any of us and you rattle
off rhetoric non-stop. I don’t think your success rate is very promising.” She
says
“You all are 4 well educated girls that
attend a prestigious private school, the everyman can barely read. There is
clearly a difference in the level of susceptibility.” Says Stacy
“I’ll support you, but that’s just
because you’re my friend. “ Says Ophelia
“I’m in it for shits and giggles.” Says
Isabelle
“I actually support most of your
ideology. I can’t stand the men who choke society with their authority.” Says
Grace
“That’s three of four, better than you
expected, isn’t it, Jenna?” asks Stacy
“You’ve still not convinced me.” Says
Jenna
“I’ve the democratic majority, I don’t
need to.” Says Stacy
“I thought you didn’t believe in
democracy.” Says Jenna
“I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I won’t
play pretend if it makes me look better.” Says Stacy
“You’re delightful, and you know full
well you have my support because I’m not standing in the way of a machine that
ruthlessly creates ideological monoculture through torture and murder.” Says
Jenna
“Now that I have the full support of
the people, I can know full well that I am doing the right thing.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think killing anybody who
would disagree with the argument that states you are doing the right thing is
technically the right thing.” Says Jenna
“When every living person agrees that
it is the right thing, then it is clearly common knowledge that it is the right
thing.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure that’s how most
consensuses were reached in history; she’s not drawing any wild conclusions to
be honest.” Says Isabelle
“I can see so far, because I stand on
the shoulders of giants.” Says Stacy
“That’s cute, especially for someone
who fancies themselves a giant-slayer.” Says Jenna
“If I were top cat, it would be a
corpse-pile of giants, rather than the shoulders, and I could see even farther
than before.” Says Stacy
Aurelia walks to the front of the
class, the bell rings “I hope everybody had fun, please remember to put the
things back where you found them. Do enjoy the rest of this Tuesday and I’ll
see everybody tomorrow!” she says, the girls shuffle about and babble idle chatter
as they clean up and exit the room, joining the liquid mob of schoolgirls that
flows rapidly out of the high pressure environment of school towards the area
of low pressure known as freedom. The gang ends up in the courtyard as usual.
“You girls want to do anything today?”
asks Isabelle
“I wish. I promised my sister I’d get
these girls to help me study today. My hand is kind of forced since I’d rather
live to see tomorrow.” Says Stacy, feeling mildly awkward about such a bold lie
“You got a test coming up?’ asks
Isabelle
“There’s always a test on the horizon.
Knowing Stacy she doesn’t have the slightest idea what it’s about since she
doesn’t pay any attention.” Says Jenna
“Luckily I’m in all of her classes,
like her guardian angel or something.” Says Ophelia
“She’s lucky to have you. I guess we’ll
see you tomorrow then.” Says Grace, let down by the loss of the company of her
friend
“You two enjoy yourselves. I know damn
well I won’t.” says Stacy
“I’m sure it’s not that bad. It’s only
the second week, you couldn’t have missed that much.” Says Isabelle
“Hopefully we can get 54 hours of
school in over the course of three hours, I’m not optimistic though.” Says
Jenna
Isabelle laughs “Good luck with that,
I’m sure Stacy will be fine anyways. She seems to know everything even if she
doesn’t pay any attention.” Jokes Isabelle
“Let’s just hope that her marks reflect
that.” Says Jenna
“If they don’t, I’m sure Stella will
leave some bad marks on me.” Jokes Stacy
“She’s that serious about school, huh?”
asks Isabelle
“More than that, she’s serious about
her school as well as mine. She’s probably how I was so heavily influenced by
tyranny.” Says Stacy
“Stella just wants what’s best for
you.” Says Ophelia
“A benevolent tyrant, I suppose. Take
it easy you two; I’ve got to learn enough to convince Stella not to beat me
with the books.” Jokes Stacy
The girls exchange goodbyes, Grace
enjoys a playful innocently amorous hug in the eyes of the voyeurs and the
gossips before the gang parts ways.
The three reap a grim walk down the
dead city streets speckled with lifeless life and the greenery satisfied with
living as opposed to having a life. The terse trio arrives to gather the rope
for the gallows, for it’s hard to enjoy the gallows if you haven’t any rope.
Dale is semi-conscious, nodding in agreement with the ambivalent compromise of
meaningless life, meaningless lifelessness, and meaningless death known as
existence.
“You’re home early. It’s good to see
you girls.” He says
“We’re heading out in a second. Just stopping
by.” Says Stacy
“That’s fine, enjoy yourselves.” He
says, contented enough by the quality of his parenting to relax his vigilance
and be lulled comfortingly by the lullaby of the television as the girls go
upstairs.
“What should we do? I don’t want to
transform if you dad will see us.” Says Ophelia
“Just do it in the alley beside my
house. Dale is the least of anybody’s concerns to be honest.” Says Stacy,
tossing her bag aside and undressing, the girls leave their bags as well
“I still think this is a bad idea to do
this in the middle of the day.” Says Jenna
“Nobody will bat an eyelash, trust me.
This is a weird city.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think anybody will notice
two witches and a cat going into a church?” asks Jenna
“You’ve got nothing to worry about
since your witch clothes disappear when you transform. I’m the one who has to
live with all of the evidence.” Says Kitty, in her dress, glasses, and cat
ears, getting her handgun and holstering it against the small of her back
“That’s true. I hope you really did
think this through.” Says Jenna
“All I do is think these things
through. We’re getting something for practically nothing today, so be happy
with that. Let’s go.” Says Kitty, Jenna sighs, Ophelia nervous, following Stacy
downstairs
“We’ll be back later.” Says Kitty,
dryly
“Ta ta.” Says Dale, not looking up from
his sleep as the girls exit the door
The two schoolgirls enter the access
alley beside the house and transform with modesty.
“Are you going to inform us of this
plan, now?” asks Raven
“It’s simple, I go in, I talk to the
priest in the main room and talk some sense into him, all you two have to do is
convince him to play some music on the organ while I go take care of business.
That’s it.” Says Kitty
“How are we going to do that?” asks Blaze
“You’re witches, just say that it will
help you find god and give up witchcraft. He doesn’t really have a choice at
that point.” Says Kitty
“You think priests actually believe in
witchcraft?” asks Raven
“Of course, they devoted their life to
preternatural forces, if anyone believes in that sort of stuff its priests.
Hell, even the bible believes in witches.” Says Kitty
“That’s a good point.” Says Raven
“Let’s not talk too much. Loose lips
sink ships.” Says Kitty
“Ok. What church are we going to
anyways?” asks Blaze
“Old Saint Steven’s Cathedral.” Says
Kitty
“Isn’t that like a really important
church?” asks Blaze
“We’ll we’re doing really important
things.” Says Kitty
“That’s a ways away.” says Raven
“We just hop on the metro and make one
train exchange. It’s nothing. A few stops north and a few stops west.” Says
Kitty
“So you seriously think nobody will bat
an eye when they see us looking like this downtown.” Says Raven
“The closer we are to downtown the less
we stand out, you might even see other people in costumes. Costumes are pretty
popular with the youth.” Says Kitty
“I’m pretty sure they dress up like
cartoon characters, what are we supposed to be?” asks Raven
“Love Cat and the Love Witches,
clearly.” Says Blaze
“That’s not a real thing.” Says Raven
“Well, we can pretend it is. If anybody
calls us out it’s our own comic we’re trying to get published. It’s always good
to go with things that aren’t disprovable.” Says Kitty
“Let’s just get this over with. I’m
more embarrassed than afraid right now, and that says something.” Says Raven
“You look cute, don’t worry.” Says Blaze
“Your costume is a hell of a lot better
than mine.” Says Kitty
“I’m grateful for that, to say the
least.” Says Raven
The girls finish the short trip to the
local terminal and wait among the handful of retirees and children waiting to
board the train while the working man still toils through the afternoon. They
catch the eyes of strangers and remain silent, reluctant to acknowledge their
own lives at this point before boarding the train. The train barrels through
the suburban streets as the concrete stalagmites slowly grow taller, whistling
a monotone cat call at the easily objectified beauties, the sporadically classy
few donning steel fishnets and glass nylons posing seductively for the swift
snake.
The snake screeches to a stop in the
thick urban underbrush, the girls step out onto the terminal which had elevated
itself out of poverty along the way and make their way to the staircase of raw
steel lattice and handrails chipping paint before reaching one of the classy
east west city hat-line trains to take them the final leg of their journey, all
the way to the dirty industrial docks if they pleased, where the hat-line
becomes another rag-line steeped in poverty that blunders through traffic
indifferently as this is the usual solution when faced with choice between building
a bridge or inconveniencing people that live in low income areas. Regardless of
the industrial blight, the train itself stays classy; it’s still got to be
classy when it strolls back through the money, after all.
The girls enjoy the relatively clean
cheap plastic seats, intelligible speakers, and mostly functional lights that
define a classy train in Bay City, a far cry from the mobile ashtrays as dirty
as homeless people bathed in flickering darkness or yellow lights on a good day
with torn upholstery of a bygone era that define the poor boy’s hand-me-down
trains. The girls miss their local train, the artificial cleanliness of the
urbane train burns the noses of those unfamiliar with it, for in the eyes of
the pretentious faux rich who complain with pride on account of their
citizenship and potentiated by nothing else, the cleanliness of a public train
is determined by how palpable the smell of lemon and ammonia is. The poor don’t
complain, because they know nobody will listen.
The businessmen think of money and cocaine
because they have neither money nor cocaine, the cocaine mountain and money
forests of downtown business have ceased to be anything but meager foothills
and meadows at this distance from its monumental pinnacles. The girls get off the
train after she sings them a few pleasantly lascivious pre-recorded station
announcements. The girls walk through the crowd of people dying inside, the few
men who look at the girls are indifferent, Stacy reminding them of the
malnourished streetwalking fiends more than a good time, the Bay City witches
inducing nostalgia for a childhood the onlookers didn’t have: cocaine,
cigarettes, and hard liquor don’t play pretend after all.
The girls walk into the streets full of meek
buildings coy in the shadows of the true skyline in the distance; a few small
time businessmen share a wholesome, hearty whore and snort more sucrose and
lactose than cocaine in their decrepit penthouse office that died decades ago as
they celebrate being acknowledged in the slightest by somebody with real power.
That man looks down at them from his tower, smiling, the meager look down at
the lowly on the streets, smiling, and lowly look upon the lowly, smiling faux
smiles and feeling real pain. The antique church looks at the city, churlish
and pompous, dressed like a rich man who died centuries ago yet still seeps
pride out of his rotting and forgotten corpse. Kitty pushes the door open and
enters, the large quaintly ornate cathedral empty save for those populating the
murals behind the altar and a priest sitting in a pew reading a bible quietly.
Kitty approaches down the aisle.
“Father, may I have a moment.” Says
Kitty boldly
“Oh.” Says the priest, a bit startled
by the unexpected visitors “Certainly. Before, can I ask why you three are
dressed like that? Those clothes are hardly appropriate for church, you know.”
He says
“We’re on the way back from a costume
party, sorry about that, I know we look silly.” Says Kitty
“That is fine, how can I help you, are
you here for a confession?” he asks
“Not quite, simply searching for some
faith. May I ask you something?” asks Kitty
“Of course.” Says the priest
“Are you familiar with chapter five of
the book of Mark?” asks Kitty
“Yes. I would be ashamed if I was not
familiar with the entire bible.” Says the priest
“When Jesus sends the demons out of the
man and this causes the pigs to drown, would you report Jesus to the authority
for using sorcery to destroy the swineherd’s property?” asks Kitty
“No. It was a miracle, it was not
sorcery. He healed those men. But no, I would not report Jesus because I have
faith in the Son of God.” Says the priest
“Let us be true to our faith.” Says
Kitty
“You are a peculiar little girl, may I
ask your name?” asks the priest
“My name is Legion.” Says Kitty,
staring into the priests eyes, Blaze looks away, Jenna grimaces
“That is unsettling, are you
possessed?” asks the priest
“I believe so. Can you help me, use
your magic to send the demons out of me?” asks Kitty, still serious
“I don’t know how to do magic, or
miracles like Jesus, I am just a priest.” Says the priest
“Well, maybe just a blessing, some holy
water, something to help me.” Says Kitty
“I will do everything I can. Are these
witches causing you to be possessed?” asks the priest
“No,
we are love witches; we are the good kind of witches, and servants of God.”
Says Blaze, cutely
“I don’t think there was ever any
reference to anything like a ‘love witch’ in the bible, it does say witchcraft
is a sin, so you may be confused about what you are doing. A demon may have
tricked you.” Says the priest
“You are probably right.” Says Raven,
unentertained by the scenario
“No, we are definitely servants of God.
God works in mysterious ways, you know.” Says Blaze
“I think it would be best if you were
not witches at all.” Says the priest
“That is the lord’s truth.” Says Raven
“Please, father, the blessing.” Says
Kitty,
“I will talk to you in a moment, this
girl needs my help.” Says the priest as he goes to the altar and grabs the aspergillum
and dips it in holy water. “Please, child, kneel and bow your head.” Says the
priest, Kitty does so, the priest starts to shake the rod at Kitty, he begins
to chant as drops of holy water fall onto her
“Aspérges me. Dómine, hyssópo, et
mundábor: lavábis me, et super nivem dealbábor.
Miserére mei, Deus, secúndum magnam
misericórdiam tuam.
P.Glória Patri, et Fílio, et Spirítui
Sancto.”
He Pauses
“S.Sicut erat in princípio, et nunc, et
semper, et in sæcula sæculórum. Amen.
Aspérges me. Dómine, hyssópo, et
mundábor: lavábis me, et super nivem dealbábor.”
“Thank you, father.” Says Kitty
“Do you feel better?” asks the priest
“I do, I feel nausea, the demons being
forced from me, I need to venture to the restroom as to not defile the church
with such demons being expelled from my body. Please help these witches in the
meantime.” Says Kitty
“Please do.” Says the priest,
profoundly moved
“I have helped one of you, now what
will make you see the light and abandon your witchcraft. You have faith in God,
but you disregard his condemnation of witchcraft?” asks the priest
“If you could play some holy music, to
remind us of God, I am sure we could find the light in this darkness.” Says
Raven, half-honest but more so simply obliging Kitty
“That should hopefully do the trick.”
Says Blaze, playing along
“I can only play simple songs, but I
will do my best. If that is what will help you. Never before have I encountered
a demon and two witches on the same day.” Says the priest
“But you have encountered them on
separate days?” asks Raven in a disheartened disbelief
“Of course, well, demons, yes. Witches,
I have not, until now. I am glad you are not here to do evil and curse the
church. I pray to God you are not deceiving me.” Says the priest
“We’re not bad witches, sorry. We don’t
mean to scare you.” Says Blaze
“Please, the music. Help us find the
light of god. ” Says Raven
“Absolutely.” Says the priest, feeling
truly called into the service of God on this day as he goes to the massive
organ and begins to play “Come Holy Ghost”
slow, out of fear of God, fearing that his poor performance will ruin
the capacity of the music to summon the Holy Ghost to save the witches
Kitty walks swiftly down the dark musty
hallway towards the back of the old church littered with community rooms that
would be littered with faithful people if people had faith. Open doors to empty
rooms swim by until she arrives at a conspicuously closed door with the a metal
placard engraved with the words “Archbishop’s Office” the man’s name was yet
unworthy of its own placard, perhaps only because it was likely few would ever
see it. Stacy opens the door; five robed men sit inside of the room littered
with pictures and paraphernalia of the church.
“I am sorry, this is a private meeting.
You must leave.” Says the central figure, the door closes itself behind Stacy
as she quickly draws her handgun and points it at the archbishop, and pulls the
slide back
“Hands in the air, gentleman!” she shouts
vicariously at the shell shocked men who slowly raise their hands “Who knows
why I am here?” she asks, as one of the bishops reluctant to raise his hands
attempts to slowly slide his distant arm off of the table into his pocket while
raising his other arm, Stacy reflexively executes the man, his body instantly
goes limp, supported by the only by arms of the old important chair.
“Let’s keep those hands in the air now.
Let’s try this again. Who knows why I’m here?” she asks again, with a
delightful maniacal gaiety
“We
don’t know.” mutters one of the bishops, fearful
“You know damn well why I’m here. It’s
the main reason why all of you are going to burn in hell.” Says Kitty, growing
upset with the tightlipped men
“We did nothing wrong.” Says the
archbishop boldly
“So keeping a handful of the orphaned
babies that are left on your doorstep and locking them in the basement and
raping them over the course of their childhood before murdering them when they
become too old to please your sick tastes does not constitute a bad deed,
that’s news to me.” Shouts Kitty
“We did nothing of the sort.” Says one
of the bishops, Kitty executes the man
“Don’t fucking lie to me! Certainly not
in God’s house.” She shouts, getting more aggressive “So who is going to take
advantage of their last rites today?” she asks with a playful insanity
“Fuck you!” shouts one of the bishops
“Fuck you too!” shouts Stacy, executing
the man
“It’s pretty fucking clear that I’m
going to kill you if you don’t come clean about your sick sex dungeon full of
orphans, so let’s try to be sensible. Jesus, I don’t have all day.” Says Kitty
“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”
Says the last one of the bishops, reflexively
“Don’t rape orphans you sick piece of
shit!” shouts Kitty as she executes the last of the bishops, breathing heavily
out of rage
“The last man standing, the top cat of
all people. What do you have to say for yourself?” asks Kitty, pointing the gun
at the archbishop, delighted with the progress she was making
“Please don’t kill me. You are right,
we rape children, it was a tradition passed down through the church for
centuries, I couldn’t speak out against it.” Says the scared man
“So you chose to perpetuate it to this
day: sickening.” Says Kitty
“I told you, please let me go, I don’t
want to die.” Mutters the man, starting to cry softly
“Who said I was going to let you go?”
asks Kitty, playfully confused, walking closer to the man
“You said you were going to kill me if
I didn’t tell you, and I fucking told you so let me go.” Says the archbishop,
drowning in remorse
“Just because I said I would kill you
if you didn’t tell me, doesn’t mean that I wasn’t going to kill you if you did
tell me.” Says Kitty,
“May god have mercy on your soul.” Says
the priest, furious and indignant, the gun inches away from the man’s head
“I am
god.” Says Kitty, staring into the bishop’s eyes, her own blazing with
intoxicating vehemence
“Why are you doing this?” asks the
archbishop
“Deus vult.” Says Kitty boldly. She
executes the man. Stacy exhales satisfied, holsters her gun, and rustles
through the pockets of the men, collecting two hundred some odd dollars in cash,
placing it in her bra, and grabs a large metal ring of keys from the wall. She
lays the keyring on the table draped with a white cloth, still remarkably
white, and selects on key to point towards the door, the rest point the
opposite direction towards the archbishop. She walks over to the archbishop’s
corpse and puts her finger in the bullet-hole in his head beginning to write on
the table skillfully with upside down letters that are legible to the door. She
repeats this process a number of times with the fresh blood before she has
finished, “Kids in Dungeon” is written in blood on the white cloth, below the
message is a simple cross, and below the cross the keyring. She wipes the blood
off of her finger with the archbishop’s robe, rinses it in a pitcher of holy
water, and dries it off on a clean part of the dead man’s robe. She takes the
small flip-phone out of the pocket of the first bishop to die and hides it gracefully
in what little cleavage she had, secured by the tightness of the dress without
any help from her breasts. She exits the room and walks back to the church. The
priest was playing the last few notes of the hymn played artistically slowly
for the witches. The girls look at Kitty as she approaches them, a bit
bewildered.
“Thank you, Father.” Says Kitty,
merrily and boldly, the priest gets up from the organ
“Are you feeling better now, no more
demons?” Asks the priest
“The pigs are dead.” Says Kitty
“So you are saying that it worked?”
asks the priest, confused
“Very much so. Thank you. I must be
going now.” Says Kitty
“You are more than welcome.” Says the
priest
“We should go too, thanks for the
music.” Says Raven
“It was really good.” Says Blaze
“Did you see the light?” asks the
Priest
“Yes, thank you. We regret our decision
to become witches in spite of God’s wishes.” Says Raven
“I think we’re good witches so God will
forgive us, it’s just a little sin, right?” asks Blaze
“I believe the Bible says that witches
are to be put to death.” Says the Priest
“What?” asks Ophelia, saddened and
surprised
“The Bible also says that if a girl is
married who isn’t a virgin the whole town should stone her to death, maybe we
can let the witch rule slide like that other one, ok?” asks Raven
“I suppose you may be right. I couldn’t
hurt anybody like that, even if they are witches. If you believe you are doing
good; I will have to put my faith in God to ensure that you are doing good
things with your witchcraft.” Says the Priest
“Don’t worry, we are. Thanks again.”
Says Blaze
“Time to go.” Says Kitty, impatiently
“Yes it is, sorry for bothering you.”
Says Raven
“Don’t be. You helped me realize that
God is more than willing to work through my hands, and that I may have interpreted
the bible wrong. Witches may have been a lot worse in the past, but you two are
good girls at heart, I can tell; you allowed this girl to come here to be
exorcised, after all.” Says the priest
“Galatians 3:5” says Kitty
“He therefore who
giveth to you the Spirit, and worketh miracles among you; doth he do it by the
works of the law, or by the hearing of the faith.” Says the priest
“The
faith is more important than the law.” Says kitty
“That
is true. Thank you for reminding me of that. Have a blessed day.” Says the
priest
“May
your day be blessed as well. Keep the faith.” Says Kitty, staring at the priest
intently; the girls walk down the aisle and exit the church into the street towards the metro station.
“I am confused as to what we did, but
I’m glad that it seemed to go off without a hitch.” Says Raven
“Hold on a second. Be quiet.” Says
Kitty, as she pulls the cellphone out of her dress and calls 911 “Hello… I am
reporting multiple gunshots inside of Old Saint Steven’s Cathedral near the back
of the building… no, this is not a joke. Please do your job; people could be
hurt or dead inside… I am aware nobody goes to church on Tuesday but there are
people who work there every day of the week…
I was in the fucking building and heard gunshots, do your fucking job,
Christ… Thank you…” says Kitty, who closes the phone, opens it again, throws it
on the ground, stomps on it, and kicks it into a storm drain.
“What was that about?” asks Raven
“That was the final piece of the
puzzle.” Says Kitty
“You just called the cops on yourself?”
asks Raven
“I told you we were going to rescues
some innocent lives, so I left that part up to the police. I don’t want to talk
about it here, if you really care, watch the news tonight.” Says Kitty
“I don’t.” says Raven
“I didn’t hear any gunshots.” Says
Blaze
“Good. Let’s go.” Says Kitty
“You don’t think that priest will send
the cops on our trail in a matter of minutes?” asks Raven
“It is in God’s hands now, but the cops
need to find their present before that guy can ruin it if he chooses to.” Says
Kitty
“I can guess what you did, but I don’t
see how that’s a present.” Says Raven
“Trust me; they come out looking like
heroes for doing no work at all.” Says Kitty
“Let’s hope that’s enough to let us off
with a slap on the wrist.” Says Raven
“Let’s keep moving so there isn’t a
wrist for them to slap. We’ve got at least half an hour before the cops arrive,
and if you two didn’t hear gunshots then the priest knows his place to the
point where he won’t interfere with god’s work.” Says Kitty
“Whatever that means.” Says Raven
“It means we’re in the clear, for now
at least, certainly enough time for you two to get out of dodge. Even if the
priest talks you two didn’t do anything, just remain silent so you don’t
contradict each other’s stories. Tell them you don’t recall a damn thing about
anything.” Says Kitty
“It’s a lot easier for me to forget
this one on account of how palatable and relatively unremarkable the experience
was.” Says Raven
“You got it Blaze? You don’t recall anything
that happened today.” Says Kitty, Raven chuckles at the name
“How could I, since I would transform
before they catch me. Of course I can’t admit to having a double life like
this. Who knows what would happen.” Says Blaze
“Good.”
Says Kitty, the girls swiftly approach the metro and climb the steel
stairs towards the train to suburban asylum and climb aboard. The thickening
crowd of people notice Kitty but do nothing but grimace at her psychopathic
scowling and subtle fidgeting, both rather unremarkable features amongst the
apparently streetwalking youth that was gracile, paranoid, and deranged enough for
people to easily suspect she was hungrier for street drugs than food.
A thirty something suit-clad man with
thick rimmed glasses stands in front of the girls and looks at Kitty. “How
much?” he asks, nonchalantly
“It depends on whether you want me to
end your life or just put a couple bullets through your balls.” Says Kitty,
unentertained
“Jesus Christ. Not taking new clients,
I see.” Says the man, taken aback
“I certainly am, just remind me why you
deserve to die and I can book an appointment sometime within the week.” Says
Kitty
“I bet you’ve got a hard time finding
clients if you think you’re too good for me, bitch. I’ve got plenty of fucking
money. I don’t even see your pimp, what’s stopping me from enjoying you for
free?” asks the man
“If you’re the type that enjoys
bleeding out on the floor of the metro then by all means try and lay a hand on
me. If you think Mr. Tuesday afternoon special ain’t good for nothing, that
is.” Says Kitty
“You’re crazy. I’m sure you’re just
fiending cause you can’t find any johns and now you take it out on me. Even
after I offer to help you get your god damn fix. You’ve got some fucking
nerve.” Says the man
“Trust me, business is booming.
Besides, what am I, like twelve? You really have that little self-respect to
act like this in public?” asks Kitty
“It’s Bay City, what do you expect?”
asks the man
“I’ll give you a real Bay City welcome
if you don’t fuck off.” Says Kitty
“Suit yourself. Enjoy starving to
death, bitch.” Says the man, as he walks away
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” asks
Raven, clearly upset
“The fuck is wrong with that guy.” Says
Kitty
“What did he want?” asks Blaze
“Bad things. Don’t worry about it. I
think could have handled that a little better.” Says Raven
“I’m not going to be polite to sick
freaks like that. If I didn’t tell him off like that he would still be
pestering me. Or worse.” Says Kitty
“Fine. I don’t know. That guy did seem
bad.” Says Raven
“I’m glad you didn’t kill him.” says
Blaze
“Me too. He isn’t worth it. Not right
now at least.” Says Kitty
“I’m glad you found some common sense
for once in your life.” Says Raven
“Just drop it. It’s downtown, you’ve
got to expect that sort of shit sometimes. I’m sure it would be worse if we
were dressed up like schoolgirls. I don’t want to do any more talking than need
be.” Says Kitty
“Don’t you think you should get a new
dress at this point?” asks Raven
“Absolutely not. If anyone starts
looking for me they’ll turn every cathouse in Bay City upside down and
eventually give up. This is perfect.” Says Kitty
“That makes enough sense. I hope you
can handle the unwanted attention.” Says Raven
“I seem to do just fine.” Says Kitty
“Let’s hope you can keep the streak
alive.” Says Raven
“Worst comes to worst, I’m not the one
who ends up dead.” Says Kitty
“That sounds like a surefire way to get
arrested.” Says Raven
“Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to
that. Talking out a self-defense case is a lot more preferable to the
alternative though.” Says Kitty
“I understand that, but do your best to
avoid that.” Says Raven
“Will do. Just be quiet for now. We can
talk later.” Says Kitty
“It’s funny that you don’t want to
talk.” Says Raven
“I’m not a fan of stage acting for an
audience, if you catch my drift.” Says Kitty
“I understand.” Says Raven, the city
passes by in the windows, the onlookers mildly entertained by what was
understood to be a commonplace whore refusing the company of a john she felt
wasn’t worth her time. The onlookers couldn’t care less that the apparently
twelve year old girl was working, for she nor anybody else gave a damn about
them or showed them a shred of sympathy for being forced to work all the same.
The girls exchange trains and breathe a
sigh of relief as the take their seats on the sparsely populated southbound
route towards even more modest modesty and more decent indecency. The ambient
filth reminds them of the loving neglect and indifference the city shows to the
people too good to be any trouble and too good to be worth a damn in Bay City.
“What was the whole charade about back
there?” asks Raven
“It helps to stir some faith into the
man when I’m relying on his faith to keep me out of harm’s way.” Says Kitty
“That’s pretty bold to rely on faith
like that.” Says Raven
“Relying on the faith of a priest is hardly what I would call bold.” Says Kitty
“Are we still trying not to talk?” asks
Blaze
“Yes.” Says Kitty
“Ok.” Says Blaze
“I don’t ever want to talk about this
stuff.” Says Raven
“Good. Don’t.” says Kitty, the train
barrels on down, Kitty leaning her head back against the window, exhausted more
so by the self-restraint of dead time spend with tight lips than her delightful
antics. The train ride comes to a halt at their stop without any attempts at
solicitation and the girls get off at the terminal and begin the final leg of
the tour de force. The kind streets hug the girls’ feet while the trees in
planters smile at them amicably. The sweetness is sickeningly pleasant, but the
intoxication coddles the possibility of the sweet serenity of overdose with
natural antiemetic properties.
“Is it hard to do what you do… Kitty?”
asks Raven, grimacing at the name
Kitty chuckles at her own name “It
depends on what you mean. Reaping souls is easy; the hard part is keeping it
together in the meantime and between time. Like there’s this animal inside of
me that wants to get out, but I’m holding the leash back as best I can.” Says
Kitty
“Well then… I’m glad you do that. I
thought the other part might be hard on you, but I guess not.” Says Raven
“It’s like a sweet release of god’s love inside of me when I do it. Knowing the
bastards thoroughly deserve worse I kind of feel like a saint for showing them
some pity and not thoroughly torturing them first.” Says Kitty
“That’s unsettling to say the least.
Please don’t start doing that.” Says Raven
“I don’t do it because it’s dirty and
inconvenient. I’m strictly business with this nonsense.” Says Kitty
“That’s good, I guess.” Says Raven
“I’m glad you can do it. I noticed our
rings started to glow white on the train ride home. Like something really good
happened.” Says Blaze
“I’m hoping that means everything went
according to plan.” Says Kitty
“Why are you hoping, can you just use
your magic to know the answer?” asks Raven
“I try, but for some reason I can’t. I
guess the results of my good deeds are not relevant to doing good and fighting
evil. What’s done is done, I suppose.” Says Kitty
“That’s a damn shame. We’re in the dark
for now, I guess.” Says Raven
“If you want you can watch the news,
I’m sure it will be on the local news at least.” Says Kitty
“What happened, exactly?” asks Blaze
“Big names fell from grace all the way
into the pits of hell. That’s all I’m going to say right now.” Says Kitty
“I couldn’t stomach whatever the news
is. I just want to remain in the dark. I suggest you stay away from the news
too… Blaze.” Says Raven, still uncomfortable with the names but well aware of
the implications of the costumes
“I don’t really want to find out
either, if somebody got shot.” Says Blaze
“Good.” Says Kitty
“I think you really should wear gloves
if we make it past this hurdle.” Says Raven
“It’s like 80 degrees why would I wear
gloves?” asks Kitty
“People in your line of work tend to
wear gloves for a reason.” Says Raven
“I’ve never seen anyone in Bay City
wear gloves and half the city is in this line of work.” Says Kitty
“They’re not in it to the same extreme
that you are, though.” Says Raven
“Wearing gloves is more suspicious than
anything we do to be honest. If somebody sees you wearing gloves, they know for
damn sure you are trying to commit a crime.” Says Kitty
“I guess you have a point, but you’re
not worried about fingerprints or anything?” asks Raven
“In order for them to use fingerprints
they would have to arrest me and get my fingerprints in the first place,
secondly they would have to have taken the fingerprints at the scene of the
crime and compared them to all of the other fingerprints that have a better
reason to be there than mine do and isolate me as the suspect, which I can
guarantee nobody who works for the Bay City Police Department has the work
ethic to do. The final point, is that throughout the great history of
fingerprints in Bay City courts, so many people have been proven innocent
regardless of perfectly damning fingerprint evidence on account of the local
flavor of justice that it is common knowledge that fingerprints are
inadmissible evidence according to the current precedent.” Says Kitty
“Did you read a book on this history of
Bay City courts or something?” asks Raven
“I think that stuff is kind of common
sense and common knowledge.” Says Kitty
“I hope you’re right.” Says Raven
“I just hope nobody from my
neighborhood recognizes us. I’m starting to feel that it was kind of reckless
going out like this.” Says Kitty
“Well, technically we’re not doing
anything wrong, so it’s not like they’ve got anything to be suspicious about.”
Says Raven
“I’m more concerned about my reputation
at this point.” Says Kitty
“I’m sure most kids are glued to the
television or something. I wouldn’t worry about it. It’s a pretty short walk
back to your house from the station. Unfortunately we can’t change back either
until we’re at your house, since that would be the most damning evidence of
all.” Says Raven
“I think we look nice. We’re all pretty
cute. I wouldn’t mind wearing this on a normal day, but I would feel too
tempted to start using my love magic.” Says Blaze
“Maybe I’m just not as into the whole
witch scene. I don’t know.” Says Raven
“Just keep on walking, this whole
ordeal will be over soon enough and we can rest easy that we’re at least out of
the damning costumes.” Says Kitty
“That will be a relief.” Says Raven
The old familiar house looms in the
distance as the girls awkwardly approach, hoping to return to their
unremarkable uniform conformity in the spirit of the houses that surround them.
The two witches venture into the tight corridor beside the house and transform
back into schoolgirls. The three walk into the house quietly as Dale rests,
peacefully undisturbed and go upstairs. Kitty takes the handgun out and places
it quietly in the drawer, takes the money out of her bra and collects it with
the wad of money crisp from dry sweat that still sat on the desk from the
previous venture before placing it in the drawer with the gun. She takes the
dress off and hangs it up. Stacy changes into comfortable clothes.
“Grab your bags and get out of here,
just in case the cops decide to show up. I’m not having them take you two with
me. Thanks for everything; your girls are the oil in this metal horse.” Says
Stacy
“Yeah. I’m glad nobody got hurt.” Says
Jenna, grabbing her bag
“I think that was a way better plan
than last time. I’m proud of you. Really putting that magical brain of yours to
work.” Says Ophelia
“I try my best. The good news is my
best is getting better every day. It all comes down to practice and due
diligence. You two were spot on in your performance as well, especially if you
didn’t notice anything suspicious.” Says Stacy
“Other than the two witches and the
love cat, nothing out of the ordinary.” Jokes Jenna
“That’s all I can hope for.” Says Stacy
“I’ll let you get some rest. I’m sure
this sort of thing takes it out of you.” Says Jenna
“Stacy deserves a hug for doing such a
great job though.” Says Ophelia, hugging Stacy cutely
“Thanks. I don’t know if I deserve it,
but thanks anyways.” Says Stacy, hugging her with a kind and embarrassed pat on
the back before she gets let go, Jenna goes to hug her friend, Stacy a bit too
short to hug either of them properly and has her face squeezed into their
breasts to which she responds as always with another diligent pat on the back.
“Knowing what you do is scary, but not knowing
what you did is even scarier Stacy. My mind is racing about what could have
possibly happened and I don’t think I’m anywhere near crazy enough to have any
clue as to what you really did.” Says Jenna, coming to terms with her
nervousness
“Don’t worry about it. Just don’t watch
the news, ok?” says Stacy, her mouth muffled by the strength of Jenna’s hug
“I know I am not watching it tonight,
maybe never again.” Says Jenna
“Ok. Let me go. You got your hug.” Says
Stacy
“Sorry.” Says Jenna, a bit embarrassed
“It’s fine. If you do find out what
happens, remember, it wasn’t me, or any of us for that matter.” Says Stacy
“Got it.” Says Jenna
“Of course. I guess we’ll see you
tomorrow, Stacy.” Says Ophelia
“Tomorrow it is.” Says Stacy
“You better be at school tomorrow.”
Says Jenna, the fear of Stacy’s execution at the hands of the law forcefully
taking over her mind
“Let’s hope that God is on my side. If
that’s the case it will be smiles and sunshine tomorrow.” Says Stacy
“I know he is. You are a good person
after all.” Says Ophelia
“The rings don’t lie.” Says Stacy,
happy and satisfied with herself
“I will pray that all of this turns out
well. Lots of praying, I promise.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know why you always turn to
prayer when things get rough, but never if things are going fine.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know. I think it’s just my
reflex when I get really scared like this. It’s the only thing I can think to
do, for some reason I believe that it helps. My mind is racing and my one shot
in the dark is praying at this point so that’s what my mind focuses on.” Says
Jenna
“That’s good. Praying always helps. You
should still pray when things aren’t bad though, just to say thanks to God.”
Says Ophelia
“Well, thank god we’re swell, it really
would be best if you two get out of here, as much as I’d love to chat.” Says
Stacy
“We’ll get out of here, come on
Ophelia. The only thing quelling my fear right now is vehement incredulity; I
hope there is nothing that comes up to challenge that.” Says Jenna
“Just don’t put that dog in a fight it
can’t win and you’ll be doing just dandy. Ta ta, girls.” Says Stacy
“Bye.” Says Ophelia
“See you later, Stacy.” Says Jenna, as
the girls exit the room, Stacy lays down on her bed and lets the fatigue,
satisfaction, and indifference after a long day’s work conquer any inkling of
fear she might have inside of her as the sense of closure allows her to drift
off peacefully into a pleasant nap. The sun dozes as well as it drifts towards
the horizon as it comfortably blankets Stacy with its warmth.
Stella eventually enters the room and
closes the door
“Welcome home.” Says Stacy, sitting up
and rubbing her eyes
“Sorry for waking you. Says Stella
“Don’t worry about it.” Says Stacy,
sitting on the edge of the bed, grinning looking at Stella
“You want to watch?” asks Stella
playfully, starting to undress
“Maybe.” Says Stacy boldly, Stella
takes her shirt of and throws it on Stacy, turns around and slowly shimmies out
of her skirt, bending over, seductively teasing Stacy, she turns around and
slides off the straps of her bra, unhooking it as she struts over to Stacy, straddles
her legs and slides the bra off. “Happy?” she asks lovingly as she wraps her
arms around Stacy’s neck.
“I want more.” Says Stacy, grinning
slyly, who wrestles Stella onto the bed and begins to kiss her with a passion
for pleasing and a love for fun, Stella welcomes the affection gratefully,
Stacy fondles her breast before moving down to kiss her neck, kissing her
slowly down her chest until she reaches Stellas breast and begins to suckle on
the nipple, using her tongue to assist her lips in inducing pleasure and joy as
she has been conditioned to do so.
“You’re adventurous today.” Says
Stella, stroking Stacy’s hair, as Stacy kisses her way to the sternum
“This is just the beginning.” Says
Stacy, beginning to make love to the other breast while fondling the other,
Stella’s heartrate rising to the point of being palpable on her breast, Stacy
eventually pecks her way down Stella’s torso and belly, slowing down and
increasing the tastefulness, moving beyond sensual pecks as she reaches the top
of the mons pubis.
“Stacy.” Whispers Stella, thoroughly
aroused as her panties are pulled down slowly as Stacy strokes and kisses her
legs while doing so, eventually removing the thin cloth garment and working her
mouth back up the legs as Stella fondles her own breast, reaching for Stacy’s
head as her mouth returns to the mons and descends upon the vulva, using her
skilled mouth to please Stella with a slow caress of the lips and gentle
strokes of the tongue causing Stella to squirm slightly and stroke Stacy’s hair
more so longingly.
“Oh, Stacy.” She whispers, emblazoning Stacy
with even more confidence as she slowly increases the vigor of her sensual
massage causing Stella to start panting release soft sporadic moans when such a
chord is struck. Stacy’s tongue dances with more passion as the tempo
accelerates along with the choral harmony provided by Stella’s pleasure.
“More, Stacy, give me more.” Moans
Stella, inducing Stacy to rely upon what she had learned in school and slides
two fingers inside of Stella with slow and gentle thrusts that go slightly
deeper every time, all while her mouth continues relentlessly.
“Oh my god, Stacy.” Moans Stella “This
is how I want you to hurt me.” She cries, as Stacy’s fingers return the favor
she longed for. Stacy takes this as a green light and continues the escalation
of the foray into uncharted territory. “More. Please, more, Stacy.” Moans
Stella, to which Stacy increases her fervor to an almost insensitive level for
a short while as Stella’s panting moans begin to border gasping screaming which
does nothing to slow Stacy’s relentless advances.
“Oh my god.” Cries Stella as her legs
constrict around Stacy and her body starts to convulse “Oh my god, Stacy.” She
cries breathlessly, Stacy looks up at her mildly concerned as Stella’s legs
begin to relax slightly
“You ok?” asks Stacy
“I love you Stacy.” Says Stella, breathing
heavily, entirely enthralled by the courtesy
“So you liked it?” asks Stacy, proud of
herself, casually sucking the blood off of her fingers
“I love it. Let me taste you, Stacy.”
Says Stella, still short of breath, Stacy crawls up Stella’s body and begins to
kiss her with a haughty confidence, Stella’s weak arms stroke Stacy’s face as
she savors the taste of love, moved to tears of passion and joy, Stella lifts Stacy’s
shirt off and begins to lovingly suckle and massage her breasts
Stella tries to slide Stacy’s pants and
knickers off, she gets about halfway
down the legs before Stacy finishes the job for her.
“Sit on my face, please. Let me taste
you.” Says Stella, captivated by the experience as she grabs Stacy by the rear
and pulls her on towards her mouth attempting to do return such a generous
favor.
“Goodness.” Says Stacy, her guts
twisting in the ambivalence of conditioned trepidation and the pleasure induced
by Stella’s tongue
“Let me do you too.” Says Stacy
“Yes Please” says Stella with a
vicarious hunger for such a thing, Stacy turns around and returns to her
newfound forte of pleasuring Stella. Stacy’s swift and sensual strokes inspire
Stella to mimic such a response, the two competing with each other to induce
the most pleasure, each one’s efforts hampered by their uncontrollable moans
from occasional spike in pleasure by one or the other’s sprint to outdo the
other. The two physically indistinguishable girls enjoy their mutual interests,
now indistinguishable from each other in regards to their mindset for the first
time since they were small children. Stella holding Stacy’s hips tightly,
enjoying the weight of Stacy’s body on top of her as both of their heads are
driven deep into each other’s loins, almost disappearing between each other’s
lithe thighs.
“I want to keep going, but my tongue is
so tired, Stacy.” Says Stella, truly exhausted
“There is one more thing.” Says Stacy, who
crawls to the edge of the bed as the girls begin to mutually straddle each
other, Stacy mounting Stella and riding her vigorously, holding her legs as
Stella returns the passion with the aid of the bedsprings
“Fuck me, Stacy. Oh my god.” Moans
Stella, once again igniting Stacy’s passion to pleasure, who increases the
fervor of her conquest to a new extreme. This new high quickly causes Stella’s
body to shudder forcefully, the irregular and quivering of Stella’s hips being
driven forcefully into Stacy’s causes her own musculature to start quivering
violently as the girls mutually become too powerless to control the rhythm of
their own bodies. Stacy leans backwards and gripping Stella’s leg, forcing her
hips into Stella’s as the girls’ bodies contort around each other as if attempting
to wring the water out of a soaking wet rag.
“Holy shit.” Says Stacy, now
breathless, taken entirely by surprise at such serendipity, hips palpitating
slowly , holding onto Stella’s leg and ass as she begins to kiss her foot with
genuine gratefulness, Stella too exhausted to do anything but squirm slightly
after such healthy exercise
“Hold me, Stacy. I need your warmth.”
Says Stella, dripping with sweat that is quickly cooling, Stacy slowly crawls
on top of her and deeply kisses her once again, communicating passionate thanks
with her tongue before Stella’s can no longer return the favor after such
fruitful and extensive use. Stella holds Stacy firmly, treasuring her warmth.
“I love you so much, Stacy. That was incredible.”
Says Stella, her mind lost in Stacy’s eyes
“I love you too.” Says Stacy, looking
into her eyes, kissing Stella’s lips softly, the feeling of accomplishment
hiding the fact that she was unsure of what to say exactly, fairly certain her
sororal devotion could not compare to the intoxicating enamorment enrapturing
Stella that blinds her to the reality of Stacy’s fate with the aid of her own
brutal incredulity, allowing herself to believe Stacy’s promises of longevity,
as the logical mind that would assess such promises had long since committed
suicide out of grief, lying dead, bloodied, and forgotten on the ground
“What brought this out of you?” asks
Stella, as Stacy rolls to her side and she rolls with her, still locked in
unrelenting embrace, her mind still lost entirely in Stacy’s eyes
“You were asking for it this morning.”
Says Stacy, boldly
“This was so much more than I
expected.” Says Stella
“I’m glad you liked it.” Says Stacy
“Where did you even learn that stuff?”
asks Stella
“I have my sources.” Says Stacy
“You talk to people about this sort of
stuff?” Says Stella
“Not really, I was asking for a rundown
because a friend wanted to know out of curiosity, allegedly. I couldn’t admit
to any of this.” Says Stacy
“Good. I’d be at a loss to explain it
myself.” Says Stella
“I don’t think we could explain it.”
Says Stacy
“I’m glad we don’t have to. Nobody else
needs to know anything.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy softly
“Just don’t give them any hints; I hope
your hunger doesn’t get the better of you.” Says Stacy
“It won’t if you keep me satisfied like
this.” Says Stella
“I have no objections to that.” Says
Stacy, kissing Stella playfully
“Good.” Says Stella
“We kind of made a mess.” Says Stacy,
noticing the copious amount of moisture that soaks the bed
“I’m fine if we make a mess as long as
we’re cleaning up a bigger mess in the process.” Says Stella
“I’m glad you feel that way, that’s all
I really want to do. I might have trouble sleeping in a wet bed though.” Says
Stacy
“You can sleep in my bed tonight. We
might run into the same problem though.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy playfully
“Still not satisfied?” asks Stacy in
mild disbelief
“I’m satisfied whenever I’m with you; I
just thought you might want to satisfy me even more after seeing this side of
you.” Says Stella, deviantly
“I’m satisfied as long as you are.”
Says Stacy
“I’m glad I’m hard to please.” Says
Stella, kissing Stacy again
“I’m glad I can finally please you for
once.” Says Stacy, playfully
“Just change that once to an ever, ok?”
asks Stella,
“I’ll do my best to please you forever;
I’d have better chances if I could substitute this for schoolwork.” Says Stacy
“You wish I was that nice, but once
we’re out of school I’ll take my second helping and give you a break on the
studying.” Says Stella
“That day cannot come soon enough.”
Says Stacy, dreading the less enjoyable aspects of pleasing Stella
“I feel the same way.” Says Stella,
kissing Stacy lovingly, the girls lay together for a while
“Since when do you do something for me
just because I ask for it?” asks Stella playfully
“Usually you ask me to do things I
don’t like to do.” Says Stacy
“You know you didn’t have to treat me
like this.” Says Stella
“I just wanted you to never forget how
much I love you.” Says Stacy
“As long as you remind me every day it
shouldn’t be hard to remember.” Says Stella, climbing on top of Stacy and
kissing her playfully
“Even if I can’t do it every day, I
still want you to remember.” Says Stacy
“I couldn’t forget this if I tried. I
never want to either.” Says Stella,
Stacy holds Stella tightly, pulling her
head besides her own, beating around the bush inducing the cold fear of an
uncertain certain death, “Never forget that.” Says Stacy, holding back tears
“I never will.” Says Stella, the warmth
of Stacy’s body hiding the pain in her icy heart,
The girl’s minds escape into each
other’s warmth that they both depend on for survival and enjoy the pleasure of
each other’s compassion in a long silence filled with escapist daydreams.
“Stella.” Says Stacy, breaking the long
silence with a timid reluctance
“What
is it?” asks Stella, getting up and looking Stacy in the eyes warmly
“Can you love me for who I really am?”
asks Stacy, her eyes dart away, ashamed, not for the murders but only for
misleading Stella into a false sense of security
“As long as you let me enjoy your good
side, I have no problem putting up with your rantings and stubbornness.” Teases
Stella, kissing Stacy with fondness
“Stella, I kill people. That is what
I’m talking about.” Says Stacy, unwilling to let Stella blind herself to this
fact any longer
“Damn it, Stacy. Don’t remind me of
that. Why can’t we just enjoy ourselves?” asks Stella, saddened
“I just don’t think I can hide it, I
want you to still be happy with me even if you are aware of that fact.” Says
Stacy
“I am aware of what you did, in the
back of my mind; I want to forget it, but I’ve accepted it thanks to your
change of heart. All’s well that ends well, right?” asks Stella
“That part of me doesn’t end, Stella,
and if it does, it for damn sure doesn’t end well.” Says Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy, do you have to kill the mood too? Why can’t you let me be
happy and enjoy your company without the crippling fear of you dying?” says
Stella, sitting up on top of Stacy
“I know it might be impossible, but I
think it would be best if you could just accept that. I don’t know. Like I’m a
soldier or something fighting a war. I have no choice in the matter, so if we
could both accept that, I think it might save us a lot of pain down the road.”
Says Stacy
“Stacy when you talk about that stuff
my heart just sinks to the pits of hell, why can’t we just ignore it?” asks
Stella
“If we ignore that wound it will hurt a
lot more.” Says Stacy
“What do you expect me to do about
that? I can’t do anything about fearing for your life besides ignore it, and
you’re not helping me there.” Says Stella
“I was thinking the wartime mentality
would help, you know, just hope that I’ll come home at the end of the war
unharmed and victorious. That everything will be ok, instead of thinking about
all of the bad things, just put faith in the good things.” Says Stacy
“I want to believe that, but it’s hard. It’s too easy for me to think of all
the bad things that could easily happen.” Says Stella
“The only way I can get through this
myself is by thinking that I will always be successful. I’m just asking if you
can do the same for me, acknowledge that I do risky things, but have the faith
in me to come out on top every time. It might be foolish, but it’s like the
perfect dam for all of those bad feelings. I need you to know that I have to do
these things, and there’s no reason not to be optimistic until it is impossible
due to possible events becoming factual events.” Says Stacy
“My head is spinning, but I’m doing my
best to hold onto the optimism and let the bad thoughts be ejected by
centrifugal force.” Says Stella
“That’s good. Just be blindly
optimistic, there’s no point in prematurely grieving.” Says Stacy
“Common sense tells me it is not
exactly premature, but I am doing my best so ignore that.” Says Stella, with an
insane trembling in her voice
“Just put it behind the dam, there’s no
reason to flood your happy little village if you don’t have to.” Says Stacy
“What do I do when the dam breaks?
Common sense doesn’t really like that dam.” Says Stella
“As long as I’m here I will make you
have faith in me. I will try at least, and every day you see me you will have a
little more faith in me. There will come a day when thinking that I will die
from doing this seems as crazy to you as thinking I will live does right now.”
Says Stacy
“That is ridiculously insane; I don’t
think I’m crazy enough yet to put any faith in that statement.” Says Stella,
bewildered by the insanity
“Just give it time. I don’t know. I’m
still here, that counts for something, right?” asks Stacy
“Maybe the most insane sliver of hope
in my mind, but I can just believe that’s the first drop of water in a huge
ocean.” Says Stella
“It is. A huge ocean. A magnificent,
beautiful, expansive ocean.” Says Stacy
“I liked it at first but now the
thought of you putting drops in there slowly is scaring the shit out of me.”
Says Stella
“I know it’s scary, but that water will
wash away the fear. I promise.” Says Stacy
“It’s hard to wash myself with a drop
of water.” Says Stella, with eyes glazed with fear staring into the distance,
lost in the allegory
“I need you to just believe that you
are clean until the day comes that you can actually wash yourself with faith.”
Says Stacy
“That is hard to do, I notice the dirt
on me and it consumes my mind, thinking that you are going to die. My mind is
paralyzed by that thought right now.” Says Stella
“If you could maybe just have a plan in
case I die, I know it’s bad, but you’ll just be able to handle things. People
who prepare for disaster are much better off in the end.” Says Stacy
“My plan is just to cuddle up to the metro tracks and pretend that you are the
warm steel. I don’t know what else I could do; I couldn’t bear the pain of
being alive if I lost you.” Says Stella
“I don’t know. That’s your decision. I
am comfortable doing this because I am resigned to the fact that I am already
dead. I am forced into gambling with my life and have no choice but to let it
ride, common sense says that I will lose eventually, but there’s always some
non-zero probability that I win indefinitely every time I gamble. Common sense
says that I am already dead, so I kind of accept that, being alive from here on
out is largely serendipity. Thankfully it’s a skill based wager at the end of
the day, so it’s better odds than just throwing dice.” Says Stacy
“I can try that; I can’t have any fear
of death if I’m already dead. I can resign myself to the fact that we both
lost, and just enjoy the time until our inevitable deaths.” Says Stella
“Technically, we’re still winning,
since I’m alive and you’re alive. I’m optimistic that the streak will stay alive
for a long time, so long as my intuition doesn’t betray me.” Says Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy. Don’t make me put
faith in your intuition.” Says Stella
“It’s kept me alive up until this
point.” Says Stacy
“Barely. Why bring this up, especially
now of all times?” asks Stella
“I just want you to accept that part of
me, and embrace it. Embrace my fight to the death mentality because I don’t
have any alternative and it will be a lot harder if you get upset because you
can’t see that.” Says Stacy
“I’m not a fighter, Stacy. I’m just getting dragged along by this insanity and
it’s fucking painful. I just want to ignore that part, god damn it. You were
doing so well with distracting me, but you just had to ruin that for the both
of us. Why can’t we just ignore this for as long as possible?” asks Stella
“This, god damn it.” Says Stacy, holding up her ring “I can’t ignore this or I
die, so I need you to be on board so long as the good ship floats, god damn it.
If you could like the fact that I kill people as much as I do, we could be all
smiles every day of the fucking week.” Says Stacy indignantly
“Why is it so white?” asks Stella, softly,
frightened by the implication
“It was a terrific Tuesday, what can I
say.” Says Stacy flippantly, a bit angered with Stella’s reluctance to revel in
her own lust for death
“Fuck, Stacy, what did you do?” asks
Stella, upset and bewildered by the fight
“You know damn well what I did.” Says
Stacy, looking away and grimacing guiltily, childishly upset with herself for
frightening Stella
“What the fuck did you do?” asks
Stella, aggressively frightened, grabbing Stacy’s shoulers staring wildly into
her eyes
“The fuck kind of question is that? You
know damn well what I did. ” Says Stacy, embittered due to Stella apparently
forgetting their entire conversation
“You are telling me you went out and
killed people in broad daylight on a Tuesday afternoon? What the fuck is wrong
with you?” asks Stella
“I had to get the getting while the
getting was good. I had to water the plant known as me being alive at some
point this week, and this just happened to be the easiest method I could
fathom. I’m not hurt or dead, can’t you be proud of me or something?” asks
Stacy
“You are fucking insane, Stacy. I was
ok with you doing that shit in the dead of night, but when people can see you
plain as fucking day that’s concerning to say the fucking least. I thought we
talked about not being reckless and stupid, what happened to that?” asks Stella,
the insanity of reality striking her ruthlessly
“Nobody saw anything. I stopped some
very bad men, be happy about that. I saved some the lives of some children too.
Be happy about that.” Says Stacy, attempting to downplay the events
“How can you do all of this and nobody
sees you? I don’t believe you!” says Stella, collapsing onto Stacy and holding
her tightly as she starts to cry
“There was only one priest, and I
talked it out with him. I am fairly confident he will side with his faith in
god over his allegiance to extremely damnable bastards.” Says Stacy
“You talked out the fact that you
murdered some people with the guy? Are you fucking insane?” asks Stella
“Not explicitly, but in an allegorical
sense. Lathered some bible on the man and he took to it. I’m sure he will be
suspected of both the murders and the abuse of the children long before I am
even mentioned, if I even am. It was a good talk about faith superseding the
law, and I’m sure after getting verbally and easily physically abused on account
of being suspect he will be reluctant to say a damn thing to the police. He is
a priest; he understands right from wrong and wouldn’t betray somebody like
me.” Says Stacy
“You killed his co-workers. Why would
he side with you?” asks Stella
“I killed his bosses, so that could
easily be enough to make me a saint in his book, even before the entire child
abusing aspect of his bosses is revealed to him.” says Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy. Why? Why do these
things?” asks Stella, crying even more on Stacy’s shoulder
“I have no choice.” Says Stacy
“God damn it.” Says Stella
“God bless it. Bless my holy works, o
god. Deliver us from the evil of the corrupt lawman and scrutiny of the
sinners. Bless those who purify your churches from evil-doers that taint the faith.”
Says Stacy, Stella cries even harder in response, holding Stacy tightly,
unwilling to respond to this new degree of bombastic grandiloquence, Stacy tries
to come to terms with her failure of consoling Stella and chooses to hold her
instead of attempting the impossible task of consoling her with words.
“Stella, it’s ok.” Says Stacy softly
“It’s not ok!” says Stella “You can’t
take Stacy from me! I need this warmth and this love, you’re all I have, god
damn it Stacy, my life is nothing but pain and misery and loneliness and
emptiness, you’re the only thing that has ever helped me feel like my life is
worth living.” Says Stella, still sobbing, squeezing Stacy tightly
“What about school, what about your
friends, come on, you have plenty to live for.” Says Stacy
“There’s no point in going to school if
you don’t want to be alive. I don’t have any friends, damn it Stacy, I just
have you.” Says Stella
“You have friends, I know you do.” Says
Stacy
“I am some cold, nerdy, bitch and
nobody likes me, my friends are just the other losers who don’t have anybody
else so we sit together at lunch. They’re just people I talk to, I doubt any of
us know how to make friends or even be friends. It’s some meaningless casual
conversation, and we even struggle with that. That’s my life, meaningless
hollow relationships that I can barely maintain. It’s fucking miserable.” Says
Stella, still sobbing on Stacy’s shoulder
“Everybody likes you, Jenna and Ophelia
like you, don’t beat yourself up like that.” Says Stacy
“People respect me, that’s it, only
because I try so hard in school and get good marks. Nobody thinks I’m
interesting or fun or enjoys my company. I’m just some shell of a person that
keeps up appearances out of social anxiety about how miserable I would be if
nobody respected me on top of the fact that nobody likes me. You’re the only
one who smiles when I talk to you, the only one who likes to spend time with me
or is even willing to do so voluntarily. You’re the only one who cracks jokes
around me or tries to make me laugh. Everybody else might half-ass some fake
smile and politeness on a good day but will otherwise be completely indifferent
to my existence. I don’t fucking exist if you’re not around me, Stacy.” Says
Stella, crying even more and holding Stacy tighter
“I’m here for you Stella; I don’t know
what to say about that kind of stuff, but I’m here, so don’t feel so sad.” Says
Stacy
“You keep going out and trying to get
yourself killed and it fucking tortures me. I can’t fucking stand it, it hurts
so fucking bad when you go do this shit a like you don’t give a fuck about how
I feel, like you’re fine with just flippantly abandoning me like I don’t mean a
damn thing to you.” Says Stella, pushing herself up off of Stacy’s shoulders, still
crying
“You know I need you, that’s why I do
all of this. It’s for you, damn it, you don’t think I’d rather just jump ship
and blow my fucking brains out instead of spending the rest of my life premeditating
the optimal murders and hunting people, this shit is torturously exhausting and
I have no real desire to do this since I’m amoral to the point that I’m
personally indifferent to the vices of man. I try to do everything I can to
make you as happy as possible, and that means I have to do this stuff to stay
alive so I can keep you happy. I make a fucking point of it to take the path of
least resistance and not get shot or do anything reckless. I’m trying to stay
with you for as long as I can, damn it.” Says Stacy
“Why are you killing people in the
middle of the day? You don’t think the cops will be able to find you? After
they know you’re some vigilante that hangs out with witches? It’s not a hard
fucking puzzle to figure out, god damn
it. Hrm, white haired girl, hangs out with witches, murders people, it is
probably the girl from last week who fits all of those criteria. Jesus Christ
are you this fucking stupid?” asks Stella, frantically
“The cops don’t want to stop me, even
if they did, they wouldn’t know where to start. The only cops who know about
last week are the ones who came to the house who interrogated the witness, two
cops in all of Bay City know something about a girl who murders people and
hangs out with witches. They didn’t even write my name or address or anything
about witches on the police report, they just wrote the address of the
restaurant and “reason for call: self-defense” and closed the fucking case. The
only one who even remembers is the woman, and if you think she’s going to be
inspired to be Sherlock Holmes all over again in order to bring charges against
a little girl who murdered some orphan raping bishops you’re foolish. Most cops
love justice, even if it’s a bit corrupt, and that wouldn’t be justice in the
slightest. ” Says Stacy
“What about the witness who saw you do
this? Don’t you think he’s going to talk to the cops and you’re in the same
situation again?” asks Stella
“He didn’t see me do it, he saw me
leave the room, according to my word I was in the bathroom expelling demons
from my body. I dropped some hints that he will have to choose between the
faith and the law, and he told me he had faith. He is a man of god, so just put
faith in god. He will do the right thing.” Says Stacy
“You’re such an insane zealot at this
point for thinking that god is going to rain blessings upon your vigilantism.
You can’t just go out and recklessly murder people and think that everything is
hunky-fucking-dory because god is going to protect you since you did a good
deed. That’s not how this works at all!” says Stella
“It is more so having faith in one
man’s faith in god; I’m not expecting any sort of miracle. Just have faith in
me at least, that I know what I’m doing.” Says Stacy
“It’s hard to have faith in you when
you clearly have no common sense in the slightest!” says Stella
“Then have faith in god, that god will
protect me. Believe something to make yourself feel better, being upset is
changing nothing about this scenario so it’s best to just let it be.” Says
Stacy
“Thankfully I’ve lost my mind
completely so that sounds like a perfectly viable solution to all of our
problems. This whole thing is so insane that believing in god seems like the
most reasonable thing in the world right now. I can finally understand faith in
god: the world is naturally so nonsensical and insane that people turn to god
because they simply cannot fathom any other possible reason for things to
happen.” Says Stella
“Don’t try to make sense of it; it
doesn’t make sense so there’s no point. Just believe in god, anytime you think
something bad will happen, just remember that god is looking out for me.” Says
Stacy
“God damn it, this is so stupid it
hurts my head, but thinking about reality hurts my whole body, Stacy.” Says
Stella, collapsing back onto Stacy and holding her
“Ignorance is bliss, Stella,
intelligence is agony. Don’t hurt yourself; I just want you to feel better.”
Says Stacy
“I’m still scared, damn it, Stacy. I
can’t take this shit.” Says Stella, still crying
“Don’t be scared, everything will be
fine. If things were like you thought, they would have found me already,
clearly they’re not looking for me. The guy didn’t talk. I’ll be safe.
Everything is ok.” Says Stacy
“I want to believe you, damn it, Stacy,
why is it so hard?” asks Stella
“I don’t know, please, Stella, just
have faith.” Says Stacy
“Hold me, Stacy, don’t let me go. I
won’t let them take you.” Says Stella
“Nobody is going to take me, don’t
worry about that. I’m in the clear, you can relax.” Says Stacy, holding Stella
securely
“I want to, I really want to.” Says Stella,
nuzzling Stacy and warming up to the idea
“Just give into it, I’m here for you,
I’m not going anywhere.” Says Stacy
“Never leave me, Stacy. I need you.”
Says Stella
“I’ll be here for you forever, damn it.
Don’t think that I would ever leave you. I couldn’t bear it either.” Says Stacy
“Good. I needed to hear that.” Says
Stella, finally smiling again, still drenched in forgotten tears, nuzzling
Stacy “You promise everything will be all right?” she asks
“I promise.” Says Stacy, kissing
Stella’s neck, Stella moves her hand under Stacy’s head and begins to kiss her
passionately, drinking as much of the sweet serenity of blind faith that she
possibly can, Stacy returns with a wishful desperate passion fueled by her
hopeless desire to see Stella happy again which Stella happily savors as she
imbibes copious amounts of intoxicating optimism
“Stacy, I don’t care if it kills me.
I’m going to believe in you until I die, it hurts too much not to.” Says
Stella, eventually
“That’s what I needed to hear. I love
you too much to see you hurt like that.” Says Stacy
“Then don’t hurt me like that, silly.”
Says Stella
“It will be a lot easier if you have
faith in me.” Says Stacy
“I can’t help it now; I’m not going to
spend whatever time left wallowing in misery. I think I understand why you’re
so crazy now, it feels so good. It feels amazing to not give a fuck and just
have faith in wild ideas regardless of everything, to tell reality to go fuck
itself because my beliefs are more fucking important. I don’t care if I’m sick
for believing in you, it feels too good to ever think about doing anything
else.” Says Stella
“You’re not sick if you’re feeling
better, so don’t worry about it.” Says Stacy
“Much better.” Says Stella, kissing
Stacy softly “Thanks for that, for everything.” Says Stella
“I’m glad I could make you feel better,
it’s my job after all.” Says Stacy
“You make me feel amazing Stacy, I love
you so much. Thank you for helping me start to abandon the bullshit, I needed
that.” Says Stella, starting to grind slowly and pleasantly on Stacy’s body, kissing
her neck and fondling her breast
“If you’re ever scared, just have faith
in me. I won’t let you down. I know you might want another round but I’m a bit
exhausted from the first.” Says Stacy, with a serious lightheartedness
“You are temptatious to say the least,
but I’ll save my appetite for some other time. I want you to do me good and
proper.” Says Stella, deviantly, seducing a promise from Stacy’s lips
“I’ll do you better than that. I’ll
remind you how much I love you.” Says Stacy
“Just don’t let me starve, my mouth is
already watering, that’s not the only part either.” Says Stella, with
insatiable hunger
“So long as I don’t starve between now
and then I’ll do more than satisfy you.” Says Stacy
“I don’t want to get out of bed but the
thought of thanking you properly for everything turns me on too. I want you to
know how much I love you too, Stacy.” Says Stella, sitting up on top of Stacy
“I am glad you want to make me happy
too, you know how much I need this. I can’t live without you.” Says Stacy,
sitting up and holding Stella closely and kissing her solar plexus longingly
out of love and devotion for the only one who satiates her own hunger
“You know I’m always here for you.”
Says Stella, stroking Stacy’s hair, enjoying the affection
“I love you so much, Stella.” Says
Stacy still kissing Stella’s torso, her mouth watering from the fantasies of
food
“If you let me go, I’ll get dressed and start to fix something.” Says Stella,
feeling happy and alive after the parts of her that feel sadness and the
inevitability of dying had killed themselves or been murdered by optimism and
faith
“Of course. Godspeed.” Says Stacy,
looking at Stella in the eyes with the fear of starvation found in orphaned
children along with the consumptive hope that charity may fill their pained
bellies
“You ok with eating that soup again? I
can cook hash browns too if you want.” Says Stella, getting off of Stacy and
getting dressed
“Yes, please. That sounds great. You
are a saint, Stella.” Says Stacy, sitting up
“I think I’ve got to feed more than one
person to be a saint.” jokes Stella
“I don’t care. You’re a saint. An
angel. You’re perfect. Don’t think anything else.” Says Stacy, mildly delirious
from hunger and fatigue, seeing the prophesized salvation in glowing out of her
sister’s body
“I’m glad you think so, that’s enough
for me.” Says Stella
“I’ll kill god if he disagrees with
me.” Says Stacy,
“I thought you were god.” Teases Stella
“Good point. Looks like I don’t have
to.” Says Stacy
“You still believe that? You’re not
going to put any faith in some supernatural force?” asks Stella, a bit
disheartened
“I don’t know, you think putting faith
in some ghost would prove to be any more successful than willing the miracles
myself? God and I could be the same force after all and I’m just the mortal
incarnation.” Says Stacy, getting up to dress herself
“There are so many miracles in your
life I would be surprised if you weren’t god. What are you going to say when
you die and the actual god asks why you thought that you were god?” asks Stella
“I’ll say it was a common mix-up; white
hair, omniscient, vengefully righteous. It’s hard to tell us apart if we’re not
one in the same.” Says Stacy, half joking
“I’ll tell people who want to paint god
they’ve got it all wrong, that god is actually a lithe little girl.” Says
Stella
“Good. I’m not that little, anyways.”
Says Stacy defensively
“We’re both shorter than damn near
everybody, Stacy. Like 90% of the school.” Says Stella
“That’s a statistical anomaly. Don’t
worry about it. It’s just a random chance that we go to a school for giants.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t care; you’re the one who
cares.” Says Stella
“I don’t. I like it. I like to look
innocent and harmless, at least now I do. It’s the perfect disguise.” Says
Stacy
“Let’s hope so. I’m going downstairs.”
Says Stella, leaving the room
“Thank god, I’m starving.” Says Stacy,
following her
“You’re always starving.” Says Stella
“This is true, but this is a higher
degree of starvation.” Says Stacy, as reach the bottom of the stairs
“You girls have a fight or something?
You woke me up a little bit with that noise a while ago.” Says Dale
“A little bit, but we worked it out.”
Says Stacy, surprised by Dales cognition
“All better. You know we fight
sometimes.” Says Stella
“That’s good. I know sisters can get in
each other’s hair sometimes, but I’m glad you worked it out.” Says Dale
“We’re pretty good at that, don’t
worry.” Says Stella
“At least you two can resolve your own
problems, I’m proud of you. That’s real mature of the both of you. I know my
drunk ass would probably just make things worse, lord knows what it would take
for me to go up those stairs.” Says Dale
“Don’t worry about it; you don’t need
to hurt yourself. We can lose our tempers a little bit sometimes, but it blows
over pretty quickly.” Says Stacy
“I’ve let you two handle yourself for
god knows how long; I don’t think I could be a better parent than that.” Says
Dale
“That’s kind of the best parenting,
letting us take care of ourselves like adults instead of treating us like
children.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you think so. It seems to
work pretty well.” Says Dale
“Just keeping the house in order is
being a great dad, so as long as the lights are on you’re doing great.” Says
Stella
“That’s good to know. I’m pretty good
at that part. I’m a functional alcoholic you know, however limited my functions
are I do them well.” Says Dale
“Keep on doing the good lord’s work,
that’s all we can ask.” Says Stacy
“You girls as well, you’re my pride and
joy going to school like that and being good girls staying out of trouble.”
Says Dale, oblivious to the police visit the previous week
“We want to make you happy. Do you want
something to eat? I’m cooking the rest of the soup and some hash browns if you
want some.” Says Stella
“I’d love some hash browns, that’s top
tier drinking food. Really healthy stuff.” Says Dale
“I’ll make extra then.” Says Stella
“Thank you kindly.” Says Dale, the
girls go into the kitchen, Stella washes her hands and begins to prepare the
meal, Stacy pours herself some milk
“You’re not going to wash your hands?”
asks Stella
“I wiped them off.” Says Stacy
indifferently
“Your dedication to hygiene is
remarkable.” Says Stella
“You’re the one cooking; besides,
washing your hands prevents you from building up a strong immune system. You’ve
got to experience the germs to be able to fight them off. I’m pretty sure
antibiotic soap is one of the reasons why bacteria are becoming resistant to
antibiotics. Not only am I saving water, and saving soap, but I’m saving lives,
including my own.” Says Stacy
“You could sell somebody a dead horse.”
Says Stacy
“It’s a delicious horse, not every day
a peasant gets to eat meat, with this much, you’ll be sitting on top of meat
mountain, eating like a king. Cut off the hooves and boil them in the horses
stomach acid and you’ve got yourself some high quality powder glue, help you
make some furniture. Eating like a king, sitting in your new throne, what more
could a man ask for?” jokes Stacy
“You really think people will want to
eat horse meat?” asks Stella
“I wouldn’t turn my nose up at it.”
Says Stacy
“Your appetite hardly reflects the
majority of people in the world.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure that the majority of
the world would thank god for some horse meat seeing how they’re stricken by
poverty eating famine food.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure a quarter of the world
is Muslim or Jewish and another quarter lives in the developed world, so you
just lost your majority right there. Those people won’t eat horse for sure.”
Says Stella
“I could convince the people in the
developed world that it is a cultural delicacy from some vibrant and colorful
far away land. They’d eat that right up.” Says Stacy
“Which colorful far away land is that?”
asks Stella
“Whichever one I’m not selling the
horse meat in, if they don’t already eat it. Otherwise it’s just traditional
cuisine and you are a traitor and hate your country if you don’t buy it.” Says
Stacy
“You think people will believe that?”
asks Stella
“Sure. The only reason people know
they’ve done something wrong is because somebody is there to rebuke them for
doing so, it’s second nature to be sensitive to that kind of stuff. Most people
I could probably convince with free samples.” Says Stacy
“Who is going to cook those samples for
you? I’m not going anywhere near a dead horse.” Says Stella
“Clearly somebody who’s paid in horse
meat, if I’m in the business of selling dead horses. I’d hate to be a street
peddler trying to sell dead horses, but I could make a living.” Says Stacy
“If people could make a living doing
that you would see people doing that.” Says Stella
“Maybe I’m putting too much faith in
the American dream, I’m sure the margins are slim on horse meat and glue. It
would be hard to compete with the industrial glue machine, but back in the day,
before big time industrialization, if I was a butcher I’d have no qualms
cutting up a horse and selling some glue. It’s basically free money because
plenty of farmers would easily let you have the horse if they’re not going to
eat it; they don’t want to have some rotting animal on their property. Most of
the time you know the whole town since you feed them and the farmer will walk
the old horse to your shop because you’ve talked to him about his horses for
the past twenty years and you both know it’s time for that horse to go. You
give him a handshake and a pat on the back, throw him a couple steaks because
he’s your friend, and you’ve got yourself a mountain of meat.” Says Stacy
“Who is going to eat the horse?” asks
Stella
“Poor people, dogs, plenty of things
will eat the meat. Grind up the bones; sell it to people as a panacea, healthy
stuff: great for aging women and young children alike. Milk was a luxury, but
you can get plenty of calcium just sprinkling bone powder in your porridge.”
Says Stacy
“That’s disgusting.” Says Stella
“I’ll make you eat it. You know women
need to get calcium, especially when they get older.” Says Stacy
“That’s true, but I don’t think people
will actually sell you bone powder.” Says Stella
“That might just be my business then. Take
all the bones from butchers and restaurants as a form of trash, grind them up,
and sell them as a miracle cure.” Says Stacy
“You realize nobody will believe you,
right?” asks Stella
“They will when clinical trials prove
that my miracle cure is far more miraculous than damn near any other miracle
cure out there. At least I’m giving people nutrients instead of snake oil or
alleged magic.” Says Stacy
“Proven in clinical trials to cure ten
times more miraculously than the leading brand of miracle cure.” says Stella
sarcastically
“You’re forgetting that the market is
people who have faith in miracle cures to begin with; they’d be blown away.”
says Stacy
“You’re forgetting that people who
believe in miracle cures are the antithesis of people who put faith in clinical
trials.” Says Stella
“They put faith in clamor though, and
I’ll have plenty of that, seeing how I can convince people far from being on
the fence about miracle cures to try it with my successful clinical trials.”
Says Stacy
“You can’t call it a miracle cure at
that point; it would just be a nutritional supplement.” Says Stella
“That’s where you’re wrong. I take the
same product, and I sell it under a few labels, a miracle cure, a nutritional
supplement, a miraculous nutritional supplement, a nutritional cure, that’s a
healthy market share right there.” Says Stacy
“You fancy yourself to be
Rumpelstiltskin, do you?” asks Stella
“That’s not all. I take the powder, mix
it with some MSG, and boom: Nutritional Seasoning.” Says Stacy
“Nobody is going to buy a spice shaker
that lists the two ingredients as bone powder and MSG.” says Stella
“You’re thinking outside of the box,
I’m sure maybe 1 in 25 people read the label, but in the rare chance that they
actually do and are in the 1% of people who know that MSG and monosodium
glutamate are the same thing, I’ve got the perfect solution. Miracle Flavor
Suppliment. 100% of the flavor your body needs, good source of calcium and potassium,
contains no MSG, because I’m going out of my way to use monopotassium
glutamate. If I ever get some hippie army on me, then I can make a second line
all together using monopotassium glutamate instead. It would be impossible to
educate the happily ignorant public about the similarities and get them to
demonize monopotassium glutamate, especially when it took 40 years for the
hippies to even force MSG onto the ingredient list as anything other than
spices and flavors.” Says Stacy
“Why do you know so much about MSG?”
asks Stella
“Ever since I’ve known that MSG makes
things delicious, it has been worthy of culinary knighthood in my book. I was
bored one day and read about it on the internet when we had computer time at
school.” Says Stacy
“You were so bored you read an
encyclopedia article about MSG?” asks Stella
“I was thinking, you know, class is
boring, but you know what would be great right now? Traditional American
cuisine of processed food packed with MSG. I was just kind of fantasizing and
happened to learn a lot.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad I actually have the dignity
not to use MSG.” says Stella
“I am too. If you used MSG I would
still be starving after we eat. I would be biting you trying to get you to cook
more. That stuff induces a hunger comparable to delirium. That’s why the
American food industry loves it; it keeps people begging for more. The food can
be terrible quality, but if the MSG is pure nobody is complaining.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure that’s part of the reason
America is so fat, if you cause people to eat compulsively like that.” Says
Stella
“Of course, but who cares. Food is the
nouveau cocaine. People want to feel good and food is the only thing that can induce
that for the most part. If people could feel the same satisfaction from working
hard or being respectable then this would be a different country all together.”
Says Stacy
“It’s a shame that people don’t feel
that satisfaction from working hard.” Says Stella
“I wouldn’t go that far. Having people
work because they’re hungry is easier to condition than shaming them into work,
and they can actually feel good about themselves when they fatten up after a
long day of menial labor. If you look at East Asia, a lot of those people will
work out of a sense of dignity and pride, but if their career falls apart they
are far more likely to kill themselves because society shuns them for messing
up their business or career or whatever. In America people don’t give a damn
about their dignity, they just want to be happy and feel good if they can’t be
happy. Feeding them delicious food makes them feel good enough to keep on
trucking. It’s way easier to get someone to feel good that way than it is to
instill some form of dignity inside of them.” Says Stacy
“Just because it’s easy doesn’t make it
the right thing to do. America is very unhealthy on account of that mentality.
People shouldn’t be led around by dangling a carrot in front of their head.”
Says Stella
“It’s more like a doughnut or some
Chinese food; nobody would chase a carrot, unless it was seasoned with MSG and
some garlic and onion powder. People are animals, food and comfort are the
motivators used for every other beast of burden, come back to me when you can
get a horse to run by tempting it to chase dignity dangling from a stick. It’s
better to just let people be ignorant to the concept completely than induce
another level of self-deprecation. It’s too late for that, trying now would
just insult people if you make them feel indignant, regardless of how little
basis they have for their dignity. We live in a welfare state, even if nothing
else, dignity should be given away for free, seeing how it doesn’t cost a damn
thing.” Says Stacy
“Now it finally makes sense how
everybody has dignity to the point of indignation but nothing else. I’m glad
America has figured out the utopian welfare state.” Says Stella sarcastically
“Socialism removes people’s incentive
to work hard and innovate. We can’t remain competitive by only having the odd
bunch of folks who actually feel inspired to work for some reason other than
money. Necessity is the mother of innovation, and most everyone thinks they
always need more money. It would be hard to convince those same people that
they need to work due to some form of selfless moral fabric that induces
sympathy and charity for the unfortunate. Their minds just don’t work like
that.” Says Stacy
“I guess you’re right. It’s hard to
expect people to work out of the goodness of their own hearts, seeing how we
can’t keep the lights on in the house for a week with a single potato.” Says
Stella
“I’d rather have a functional, callous,
and arguably sadistic government that functions than one that is burning itself
alive with crippling sympathetic masochism and getting high on the fumes to
think it’s doing itself a favor. It doesn’t matter if everybody is happy and
well taken care of, smiles don’t pay the bills, it only matters on a person to
person basis, happiness only matters if the government can turn a profit by
making people happy and well taken care of. At that point, by all means make
people happy and take care of them.” Says Stacy
“So you don’t think Dad should get any
help from the government?” asks Stella, a bit upset with Stacy’s insensitivity
“He deserves it more than most, he did
work and pay taxes for a long while, has children, and his enfeeblement was due
to his employer’s negligence, so there is plenty of room for sympathy there. Sympathy
is like red wine, a reasonable amount of it can make you feel pleasant and
maybe a bit healthier, but you can easily become unruly, unmanageable, and
dangerously cocksure while at the same time becoming physically and mentally
addicted to the intoxication, the high of feeling good for no logical reason.”
Says Stacy
“There’s no logical reason for life.
Why split hairs, irresponsible welfare destroys the economy, while
irresponsible capitalism destroys the planet. Who really cares? Hopefully
they’ll both crash and burn at the same time and we can just sing Kumbaya while
the world burns in the hell it brought upon itself.” says Stella
“I’m just a concessioner of hells, so I
feel like my tastes as a sommelier or damnation could bring a certain classy
appeal to burning in hell, seeing how we’re destined to burn one way or
another. I feel that burning like the monk in Vietnam would be nobler than
dying like an idiot who douses himself in gasoline and sets himself on fire as
he takes his motorcycle off of a cliff in the name of ostentatiousness.” Says
Stacy
“What exactly are you protesting with your self-immolation?” asks Stella
“Chaos, largely. The chaos of freedom,
free thought, and free will.” Says Stacy
“You really don’t like those things, do
you?” asks Stella
“Those are explicitly the reasons we
ended up in this scenario where the human race has been ingesting gasoline and
asking for Satan to piss fire into their mouth. If we’re going to die of
self-immolation, I’ll be damned if we don’t do it right.” Says Stacy
“You’re pride is remarkable to say the
least. You really care that much about the dignity of the human race?” asks
Stella
“Only because I’m a part of it. If I
was a dog or something I wouldn’t give half a fuck. Since I’m on the team, I’d
feel like I didn’t do my job seeing how I seem to be the only one willing and
capable enough to acknowledge the scenario for what it’s worth.” Says Stacy
“I think it’s natural that people don’t
want to think about their own demise. When you think about people dying, it’s
always some dream like experience in some phantasmal realm and not some cold
gripping realism where they acknowledge their organs failing. Good luck
convincing people to be stoic to the vivid death dreams and instead
masochistically acknowledge the slow and painful failure of the vital organs
that sustain society.” Says Stella
“They do that a little bit, as the
death becomes more glaring, it becomes easier to do so. You forget that what is
dying is society, the establishment, the contemporary world. Plenty of people
will still be alive who have no interest in dying along with it. Those are the
people I rear from my teat with the knowledge ripped from the corpses of dead
men who succumbed to hedonistic suicidal incredulity because they refused to
acknowledge what was sensible common knowledge. These are the children of Cain
that will die in the coming flood, the chosen will continue and the story of
such damned fools shall guide the survivors away from the same fate. That is,
of course, until like all warnings, they become forgotten due to an apparent
lack of relevance, and at that point those who have failed to heed the warning
shall once again learn the hard way.” Says Stacy
“Not only are you predicting the
apocalyptic flood, but the second flood. You’re on your game today.” Jokes
Stella
“History repeats itself, that’s hardly
a prophecy at that point.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you think that the biblical
flood was history.” Says Stella
“It is, in a sense. The bible is an
allegory, so the flood represents the culling of the damnable through execution
that occurred at some point in the past, leaving only the civilized moralists
who banded together to fend of the disorganized savages of yore. That’s just
the similarity I’m drawing.” Says Stella
“You’re hardly a moralist, why do you
think you would survive the coming flood?” asks Stella
“Moralists fought against the savages
in the previous flood, the coming flood will more than likely be the realists
fighting the idealists, seeing how delusions inducing the conquest for unattainable
idealism are the reason why the world suffers so much to this day. Everybody
wanted things to be better, and more perfect, and slowly damned the world on
account of it, nothing was ever good enough and everything always needs to be
better. Contemporary man has deemed many correct answers to be fallacious
simply because they are old answers; he would rather see his own fallacy as the
accepted truth out of self-serving pride and thus leads a conquest against
historical, sacred, and holy truths.” Says Stacy
“I didn’t think you would deem anything
to be sacred or holy. I was unsure if you would deem anything to be truth to be
honest.” Jokes Stella
“I don’t deem them as such, those with
more faith than I do. I can still respect the faith out of my taste of life,
interpreting all beliefs of mankind as little more than delusions, so those who
have self-worth, dignity, or feel in any way significant are comparably as
delusional as those with faith in some god who gives a damn about the shameless
damnable beasts. When everything is comparably incorrect, that effectively
makes the most correct sentiments at the functional hundredth percentile of
legitimacy by comparison, even if these people at the effective maximum are
only getting 60% of the answers correct. I grade on a curve, what can I say,
I’m a nice teacher. That is until the test, at which point there is no curve.”
Says Stacy
“What test is this exactly?” asks
Stella
“The test is the point where I test
mankind. I proof his meddle. I gauge whether or not he is worthy of life in a
world that finds such things distasteful, but respects the bold who devote
their lives to minimizing the unpleasantness of the taste of human life out of
a true dignity in the form of vehement misanthropy. It’s not the beast that’s
the problem as much as the humanity, remove the humanity and you’ve got a noble
intelligent animal and a wonderful beast of burden.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure they’d love for you to pat
them on the head and tell them that. I hope dad is still willing to eat.”
Fixing a plate for Dale
“That’s not my plate?” jokes Stacy
“Dad needs it more than you do. Fix one
for yourself if you’re so hungry.” Says Stella
“That’s true. If I fix myself a plate
there might not be any left for you.” Jokes Stacy
“Good point.” Says Stella, fixing Stacy
a plate and serving it to her
“Thank you kindly.” Says Stacy, as
Stella takes Dale’s plate to him
“Here you go, you want some water or
something?” asks Stella
“Sure. I don’t think I technically
drink 8 full glasses of spirits a day, so I’ve got to supplement my liquids
somewhere.” Jokes Dale
“Now we just need to fit an apple in
there somewhere.” Jokes Stella
“If apples tasted as good as your
cooking that might be tempting.” Says Dale
“I’m glad you like it, it’s pretty
basic.” Says Stella
“It’s got spices and vegetables, that’s
pretty impressive.” Says Dale
“It’s just onion powder, garlic powder,
salt, and pepper. That’s pretty common place. I don’t think fried onions are an
impressive vegetable either.” Says Stella
“Hell of a lot better than I could do.”
Says Dale
“That’s why I’m glad I can cook for you
instead of the other way around.” Says Stella
“Me too. I can’t cook; I can just heat
things up or burn them on a good day. Otherwise I’m spilling things or dropping
things or knocking them over.” Says Dale
“You don’t need to now, so don’t worry
about it. I’ll get you that water, ok?” asks Stella
“Thanks again. It’s great. No ice in
the water.” Says Dale, after eating a small bite
“Of course. I’m glad you like it.” Says
Stella, getting Dale his water and returning
“Ice is too cold, I can’t see why
people like it. Who wants a drink that hurts them.” Says Dale
“I think most people are fine with
ice.” Says Stella
“Hurts my teeth.” Says Dale
“You should probably brush them more.”
Says Stella
“I do. It’s not like I eat sweets or
anything. At least once day if I can remember.” Says Dale
“How often do you remember?” asks
Stella
“God only knows, but I’m going to put
some faith and say often enough.” Says Dale
“I hope so; you wouldn’t want to lose
your teeth.” Says Stella
“They’re all there; they don’t hurt
unless something is cold. I’d say I’m doing pretty well for myself.” Says dale
“I’m not even going to start with
flossing. Enjoy the food, ok?” asks Stella
“You too, you deserve a good meal more
than anybody else.” Says Dale
“I think everybody here deserves a good
meal.” Says Stella
“Well, you cooked it. That’s why, me
and Stacy are kind of unworthy, who knows what we’d be eating if you didn’t
cook.” Says Dale
“I don’t want to find out; it’s my
pleasure to cook anyways. I enjoy it.” Says Stella
“Make sure you enjoy the eating part
too, this is damn good.” Says Dale
“Of course, I’ve got to get back into
the kitchen or else Stacy might eat mine.” jokes Stella, returning to the
kitchen
“Good point.” Says Dale, chuckling
“Welcome back.” Says Stacy
“I’m surprised you’ve not cleaned your
plate already.” Jokes Stella
“You gave me a plenty, I’m trying some
mindfulness trying to savor it. Eating too fast leaves you hungry, in my
experience at least.” Says Stacy
“I’m surprised you weren’t griping
about hunger at all during that time I was cooking.” Says Stella,
“I’m pretty sure the endorphins and
whatnot that induce that ego-high also suppress the appetite. You got me going
a little bit, revving that engine.” Says Stacy
“It’s not hard.” Says Stella,
“Thank god. I don’t know what I would
say if I didn’t have plenty of things to say.” Says Stacy
“That’s the point I am at most parts of
my life. It’s easy to chime in while you rant, but it’s hard for me to lead a
conversation.” Says Stella
“You’ve just got to believe you know everything about anything and then it’s
not hard. All the right answers just flow into your mind and it flows like a
beautiful babbling brook. It may be a matter of confidence, I’m sure you’ve got
a dam upstream somewhere. Let the river flow naturally, it feels good to
nourish the people with the water they need from your live-giving wellspring.”
Says Stacy
“There’s a reason people don’t drink
out of streams you know.” Says Stella
“That’s only because society has
coddled them and made them weak to such things. Before, plenty of people didn’t
have a choice and had some level of tolerance to the bacterial friends that
live in the wild water. If a man cannot stomach the only clean water that gives
him nourishment and life, let him die from the intoxication of the sickening
poisonous syrup that is spoon-fed to the slaves of Babylon.” Says Stacy
“If society is Babylon, what does that
make you?” asks Stella
“Persia.” Says Stacy
“Could have figured that one.” Says
Stella
“So Babylon has a population of about 7
billion, and Persia has a population of one.” Teases Stella
“I thought you were on board.” Says
Stacy
“Two.” Says Stella, who rolls her eyes
“I’ve got Jenna, Ophelia, and a couple
friends from Animal Club, that’s six strong already.” Says Stacy
“So you believe that six schoolgirls
are going to conquer 7 billion people. That makes sense.” Says Stella
“It’s largely just me doing all the
work, but I have faith. Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Says Stacy, offhandedly
and rather indifferent
“You’re a piece of work.” Jokes Stella
“I’m a marvel of contemporary social
engineering, I’m a revolution.” Says Stacy
“That’s exactly what I meant.” Says
Stella, sarcastically
“Good luck, maybe you can start you own
club and end up with maybe 8 schoolgirls that are willing to start this
revolution with you.” Says Stella
“I’d rally the poor. Schoolgirls have
plenty to lose, poor people don’t.” says Stacy
“How are you going to tempt them
exactly?” asks Stella
“Rouse plenty of rabble. One man you
might sway with anise, the other with peppermint.” Says Stacy
“You’re going to give them spice drops
or something?” asks Stella
“Well, anarchy or power, one or the
other. Those who have faith in the phoenix will opt for the latter, those
without the former.” Says Stacy
“I’d be hard pressed to find anyone who
is crazy enough to believe a little schoolgirl will somehow endow them with
power.” Says Stella
“It won’t be hard when the people all
want to get fat on the delusions of grandeur I let them eat out of my hand.”
Says Stacy
“Why would they want to do that?” asks
Stella
“People want to believe in a brighter
future, whatever anyone offers I’m sure I can come up something even brighter
and the people will be drawn to it like insects.” Says Stacy
“Seldom do you describe a bright future
when you talk about these things.” Says Stella
“That’s because I’m talking to you.
You’re part of the unattainable minority that does not fall victim to the
futility of their hopes and dreams. I don’t bother to mislead you.” Says Stacy
“You think you can just mislead people
masterfully until you’re some kind of dictator?” asks Stella
“Sure. Just start out small, people
will find it reasonable, and slowly increase the grandiosity whenever someone
tries to challenge me. The faithful will build up tolerance to believing me to
the point where they can happily drink up even the wildest ideas without being
afflicted by the life-saving instinct of reason. They will become addicted to
my cry for revolution in the name of a people’s utopia. Hope is like alcohol,
their entire will to live will be defined by the hope that I tempt them with,
to the point that they could easily die if they aren’t given such hope.” Says
Stacy
“How do you plan to keep them hopeful,
you don’t think people would see though that eventually and realize you offer
them nothing to be hopeful for?” asks Stella
“I am just the puppeteer, I don’t take
any blame for shortcomings because I’m never in charge or hold any power. I am
just the voice that rallies the people into supporting the puppets. This way
even if I’ve got to guess and check a few things along the way it doesn’t ever
tarnish my purity if I make some mistakes.” Says Stacy
“Amazing. You think you can control
political puppets that easily?” asks Stella
“It’s not hard; I just play the tune
they’ve got to dance to if they want the support of the people. I hardly have
to control them at that point, if I even have to at all.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure the puppets would
revolt against you at some point, if they really want power.” Says Stella
“I doubt it. They would be endorsed due
to their loyalty. Besides, they are like musicians in my symphony, and I am the
maestro. They do as they’re told because they want the group to perform well,
as they themselves are part of that group. They are lost without me and I am
nothing without them. If they wanted to operate outside of the group that is
fine, but a lonesome street fiddler is pittance compared to a symphony.” Says
Stacy
“You’ve really got to do your part
perfectly if you think you can conduct with the best of them.” Says Stella
“Less so than you think, seeing how I’m
apparently the only one willing to do the job.” Says Stacy
“There are countless revolutionaries in
the world, Stacy.” Says Stella
“I’m the only one who seeks to do it
right, most of them are idealist fools committing suicide with indignation. I
am methodical and logical, unspurred by humanity and mechanically driven by
cold heartless ratio. Physics doesn’t function reliably on account of the emotions
of the objects and the communal sympathetic mentality of selfless teamwork and
conscious devotion to common ideals shared between the forces that be.” Says
Stacy
“The next time I am confused about what
the right thing to do is, I’ll take your advice and indoctrinate the people,
use them as pawns to stage a coup, then induce a level of paranoia and
misanthropy that reduces their sense of self to that of an animal in order to
enslave them and use my army of masochistic zealots to conquer the world.” Says
Stella, sarcastically
“You realize you are already complicit
in the scheme. Just because you are a pawn in the name of Babylon instead of
God or me or what have you doesn’t mean you aren’t merrily complicit.” Says
Stacy
“You’re right. I forgot about how much
of an indoctrinated pawn I am so the fact that I am some masochistic zealot of
Babylon totally slipped my mind. Here I was thinking I was a schoolgirl.” Says
Stella
“A rose by any other name would smell
as sweet. Even if you enjoy school and working hard, that doesn’t mean it isn’t
out of some masochism induced by paranoia and misanthropy, just because Babylon
forces it’s slaves to venerate their masters doesn’t mean they don’t loathe
every human who doesn’t pleasure them by whipping them night and day while
inducing Pavlovian subservience by feeding them and giving them hedonistic
treats for their good behavior in order to make them think they enjoy being
enslaved.” Says Stacy
“At this point hedonistic masochism
seems like a pretty tempting reality when compared to your alternative of pure
masochism.” Says Stella
“There are too many good reasons to
indoctrinate pure masochism instead of hedonistic masochism, cost effectiveness
and the health of its faithful among them. In the end it would still be
hedonistic masochism, but the people find the same pleasure in being tortured
seldom for their good behavior as the hedonists do in getting sick on vice in
exchange for their good behavior. I’d rather a man find pleasure in solace than
be discontent with his own safety and well-being to the point where he commits
suicide through gluttonous hedonism.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure your zealots would quickly
turn against you if you became a prohibitionist on top of your already
unappealing ideology.” Says Stella
“Of course I don’t expect the sick to
see the light overnight; even if I tried they would die or become inoperably
insane from the hedonistic tremens. It’s a slow process, slowly mixing the
liquor with masochism, increasing the relative concentration of masochism,
until eventually the liquor is pure masochism, but they still turn to it like
it’s the blood of Bacchus. It’s just the quality masochism that gets them drunk
off the pleasure of the agreeable torture as opposed to the disagreeable sort.
Instead of indoctrinating people to seek pleasure as the reward, they seek the
absence of pain. It’s far easier to make a man comfortable than it is to please
him, especially when you tend to be the primary source of his discomfort.” says
Stacy
“What do you do when somebody trips and
falls and accidentally discovers that actual pleasure exists, surely they will
start to seek that out.” Says Stella
“That depends on if it is holy pleasure
or illicit pleasure. The holy pleasures like childbearing, education, work,
self-sacrifice, any virtuous deed would be encouraged, while those who somehow
manage to find the illicit pleasures and swear allegiance to such vice would be
tortured with them until they likely die in order to serve as an educational
example of the dangers of vice.” Says Stacy
“You’re going to encourage people to
have sex all the time? That’s pretty illicit.” Says Stella
“Well, humans are the horses of my
chariot, they must come from somewhere. It’s harmless, given that the
population is strictly culled to sort the people by their diseases and genetic
flaws in order to eliminate infectious and genetic diseases that stem from such
things. Contraceptives would be outlawed so that fornicators understand that
there are repercussions for such pleasure, and the parents would fear for their
own lives on account of their own well-being depending on the well-being and
quality of their children. People would fear sex more than desire it due to
them knowing the only justification of their meaningless existence is their
ability to perpetuate society and thus are judged severely based upon this
factor. Of course they would still be expected to reproduce if they are healthy
enough, and paired off methodically by genetics and forcefully bred if they
were reluctant to do so.” Says Stacy
“Jesus. You realize that basically
everyone will object to that.” Says Stella
“That doesn’t matter in the slightest,
they will object to the torture they earn for failing to do so far more than serving
their natural purpose: rearing babes from their teat, and educating them so
that they might survive in the remorseless wilds. This is not every man and
woman by any means, plenty of them have genetic predispositions and what not,
so their reproduction would be limited if they are not sterilized entirely.
They may be suitable for birthing fodder in times of crisis, but their kin
would not be ideal by any means. Those with pristine genetics however would be
bred thoroughly, methodically, and relentlessly. Quality control is important.”
Says Stacy
“Wow. You are ok with being bred
relentlessly? That sounds terrible.” Says Stella
“God no. I am a sick puppy, and not
physically ideal at all. I would be ashamed of myself if I birthed even one
more of myself. I am talking about ideal humans, physically dominant, prone to
intelligence, tame and docile minds, at least one of the three qualities to
begin with, before attempting to reliably breed beasts that have all three of
them.” Says Stacy
“So have you told Jenna and Ophelia you
plan to ‘breed them relentlessly’? Remind me to avoid the topic of what happens
after the coup, next time, by the way.” Says Stella, a bit disgusted
“Well, Ophelia would be more than happy
to assist me, Jenna I am not so sure of. You act like all women are opposed to
being mothers.” Says Stacy
“I think it would be hard to convince
them to have that many kids.” Says Stella
“It never was in the past, 10 or 12 was
common place. Indoctrinating a woman to desire the role of broodmother is
simple, it is within her instincts after all. Teaching women to worship the
natural feelings of pleasure and joy from rearing children is something that
was done without question until many women decided some fifty years ago they
would rather sterilize themselves and be genderless drones in some occult
capitalist beehive intent on doing nothing but working and leaving repopulation
up to the poor. It is a terrible affliction to be honest, while some people in
poverty may not be genetically predisposed to such unsuccessfulness, many of
them are, and burdening them with the entire responsibility of repopulation
really cripples society, especially since putting genetics aside impoverished
people have far less resources to properly educate and indoctrinate their
children to be successful in society.” Says Stacy
“I think women just didn’t want to be
seen as some childbearing object. They wanted more respect than that.” Says
Stella
“They are simple childbearing objects,
on a good day. That is a noble task. Men are simple work-bearing objects, on a good
day. The problem was not the lack of respect for women, but the overabundant
respect for men, sick fools baselessly stroking each other’s egos to the point
where they fancy themselves gods because they handedly tame simple spirits so
tame and subservient such as fire and metal. If men were but dirt, women would
have no qualms with being dirt as well. Pride in such a way that it causes an
issue is vice, and should that be accommodated, god help us if we’re not holly
jolly and grinning ear to ear when somebody gets beaten to death, dies from
AIDS, or overdoses on heroin.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure they all think they’re as
pious and holy as you fancy yourself to be. It’s not hard to be delusional.”
Says Stella
“I may be prone to irrational optimism
regarding my success rate, but that does not tarnish the purity of my ideals.
My ideals are rooted in logic, history, and science. I am not some iconoclast
that seeks to demolish common knowledge and the truth by purporting that my
opinions hold more merit than facts on account of my feelings emotions or some
other boohoo bullshit or even worse my baseless pride and indignation. I don’t
seek to do these things to satiate my lust for pride or self-worth; I seek to
do them as a benevolent benefactor that has unquestionably valid and correct
knowledge that can aid someone, meaning literally everyone on Earth. Society is
laden with festering wounds and I simply seek to use my knowledge to properly
treat such wounds so that there is a chance the wounds will not kill humanity
entirely, as futile as it may be.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think you could convince
anybody your ideals are anything other than your baseless pride and
indignation.” Says Stella
“I am not indignant. I may be proud,
but I am not indignant. I could care less about my treatment or how many sweets
and toys and trinkets and baubles I get for my meaningless menial toil on this Earth.
I have these principles because it is painful not to do so. If you ever see
somebody doing something incorrectly to the point where their stupidity induces
an uncomfortable pain inside of your mind, this is how I feel when I see the
everyman and even the folly of Babylon. The half-assed hedonist shit-show that
is human society is so irrational that it baffles me to the point where I would
feel like a terrible person if I didn’t make some effort to enlighten the
fools.” Says Stacy
“So it’s just baseless pride that
causes you to believe these things.” Jokes Stella
“Well, the only way to find out if it
is baseless is if I wrangle control of society and rear my own from its
corpse.” Says Stacy
“We can just presume that it’s
baseless, that’s not that hard. I’m sure most people will.” Says Stella
“Regardless, the gambler knows he
cannot win if he does not play, I have all of this money that is only good for
this one gambling game and I would be a fool not to throw at least some of it
away, seeing how the game pays out in a cornucopia of currency if I actually
win. That is far more ideal than just sitting on my large pile of revolutionary
money that is otherwise entirely worthless.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you could spend your time on
a more fruitful game and be a bit more satisfied.” Says Stella
“You don’t know the pleasure of sitting
here counting my revolutionary money.” Says Stacy
“You said yourself it’s entirely
worthless though.” Says Stella
“You’re forgetting about the gambling
game, the game of keno that determines whether or not my money is validated and
worth its weight in the other currencies of man or sells me loss after loss
until the game sits idle until another wild one has the money to play.” Says
Stacy
“I figure plenty of people have that
kind of money and none of them ever win.” Says Stella
“We all play our own games with
different odds, some have less money, most play a table with much worse odds.
In relative terms, my odds are much better than every idiot who thinks Molotov
cocktails can be exchanged for free money.” Says Stacy
“I’ll give you that. It’s still not
very promising. I’ll clean up.” Says Stella, cleaning up
“Thanks for fueling the fires of
revolution, it’s always appreciated.” Says Stacy
“Don’t make me regret it.” Says Stella
dryly
“What’s regrettable about assisting in
the salvation of mankind?” Says Stacy
“You need healthier interests, like
normal ones.” Says Stella
“Oh my gosh. Have you seen the new fall
line at Dante’s, it’s totally to die
for.” Says Stacy, feigning a stereotypical Bay City girl’s accent
“I’m sure you’re talking about the
appliances.” Says Stella
“God damn. That’s harder than I thought
it would be. You don’t think Dante’s has nice clothes though?” asks Stacy
“They do have some cute clothes, but
girls will probably judge you if you payed $20 dollars for a dress. They would
wear a burlap sack if it had Morientia Stolae written on it.” Says Stella
“It’s all pettiness between girls; the
only men who care about fashion to that extent are probably homosexual. People
will notice if something looks good, that’s all that matters. If the rich girls
think it’s ugly because it cost $20 they can go wear their $400 dress made by
the same nameless sweatshop laborers out of the same material.” Says Stacy
“We should go to Dante’s sometime then;
I’d love to see you try on cute dresses.” Teases Stella
“What’s wrong with the thrift shop?
I’ve got plenty of clothes anyways.” Says Stacy
Stella rolls her eyes “I thought we
were trying to get some normal interests out of you.” She says
“Plenty of people love the thrift
shop.” Says Stacy
“I was hoping for teenage girl
interests, not forty-something single mom interests.” Says Stella
“I don’t like most teenage girls, nor
do I like teenage girl things. I find no pleasure in being stupid, childish,
and petty. At least forty-somethings are going to be far less delusional about
the world at large.” Says Stacy
“You’re really criticizing the
delusions of girls our age? You’re the most delusional of all of them by far.”
Says Stella
“It’s a matter of flavor, girls our age
have teenage delusions about the artificial significance of the opinions of
their peers, I have the delusions of a delirious 800 year old giant sitting on
a mountain slamming my fist on my throne and shouting down the slopes at the
fools who don’t believe in giants as they climb the mountain to their doom.”
Says Stacy
“Wow. That’s something. I’d rather care
about the opinions of my peers at that point.” Says Stella
“Trust me, feeling like a giant that
crushes people in his hands feels way better than crying over the fact that
some dumb bitch criticized you in public.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure it does, but it’s far more
insane.” Says Stella
“The insane are the nouveau American
Negro: originally ostracized and hated, now revered. Nowadays people are clamoring to include the
insanity and even defend it as perfectly fine and sane on account of some broad
tolerance scheme, people will treat you like you’re the cock of the walk just
because some insane people were crazy enough to complain that they were being
treated like they were insane and on account of the ‘no hurt feelings’ policy
of the liberals it’s practically illegal to disagree with any full-fledged
lunatic because that’s ableist and intolerant.” Says Stacy
“That sounds a bit exaggerated.” Says
Stella
“As long as you’re not hurting people
or their feelings, it’s damn near impossible to be wrong if you’re insane. The
hard part is not hurting people or their feelings, but some people manage to do
it.” Says Stacy
“Is it really that hard to not hurt
people or their feelings?” asks Stella
“Some people preemptively have their
feelings hurt and jump on any excuse they can. Nobody gives them the time of
day unless they’re crying about their hurt feelings so their attention seeking
impulses cause them to act like that. It’s a damn shame; the only appropriate
response to damn near any indignation regarding social interaction is ‘I’ll give
you something to cry about’.” Says Stacy
“What are you going to do when you go
to jail because your ideals hurt somebody’s feelings?” asks Stella
“If I hurt anyone’s feelings they’re an
ableist for having their feelings hurt by a loony, so they’re the ones getting
felony hate crime charges. Beyond that, most people are convinced that it’s
Babylon who hurt their feelings in the first place, plenty of them will cry a
lot more and a hell of a lot louder than the establishment. Most people will have
wrought their own retribution upon themselves by the time I’m in any position
to hurt anybody’s feelings. Besides, you’re the only person whose feelings I’m
concerned about.” Says Stacy
“At least you’ve not forgotten that
much. Let’s go upstairs; I’m sure you have homework to do.” Says Stella
“I’ll have to thumb through my papers,
but I don’t remember having any.” Says Stacy
“I’ll have to double check then.” Says
Stella
“Have at it.” Says Stacy
“That’s a bold move; you know I’ll find
something.” Says Stella
“It’s hard to find something if there’s
nothing there.” Says Stacy
“You would ignore an elephant in the
room if you didn’t care for it.” Says Stella, going upstairs, Stacy follows
her, the drone of the television and the drone of Stacy had combined their
powers and mercilessly shot Dale countless times with bullets of sleepiness,
the hash browns and liquor making him all the more vulnerable to such an
assault. The girls enter their room; Stella sits at her desk and pulls out her
work, Stacy collapses on Stella’s bed.
“You know I’m going to look through
your papers eventually.” Says Stella
“I’ll be napping until that time
comes.” Says Stacy
“You’re going to dirty up my bed like
that?” asks Stella
“Mine is still wet with your sweat and
whatnot, sharing is caring, you know. I’ll keep it warm for you.” Says Stacy
“It’s your sweat too.” Says Stella
“You were on the bottom though; most of
mine wicked off into the air.” Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t mind my bed smelling a bit
more like you, anyways.” Says Stella
“Good. I’m happy to help.” Says Stacy,
rubbing her face in Stella’s pillow, enjoying the comfort
“So thoughtful.” Jokes Stella
“I’ll let you focus on your work; I’ve
got to digest after that meal.” Says Stacy
“You better not be lying about not
having any homework, if I find a bunch and it’s already late I’ll be upset with
you.” Says Stella
“I’m not. I don’t get put in the
advanced classes like you do.” Says Stacy
“You should aim higher. You’re in
advanced English at least, I’m sure the rest of them aren’t much easier than my
classes.” Says Stella
“I’m not going to aim higher when I
have no desire to hit that target. I’m fond of the path of least resistance.
I’m only in advanced English because that class consists of making things up
that sound right, there’s never a real answer. As long as you repeat some of
the key points the teacher made the rest is just pumping the papers full of
words.” Says Stacy
“You’re just lazy.” Says Stella
“I do what I need to do; I simply don’t
have any desire to do more than that for shits and giggles.” Says Stacy
“So opening up beneficial opportunities
in your life and learning valuable information fall under the category of shits
and giggles?” asks Stella
“Not quite, shits and giggles tend to
be more so enjoyable.” Says Stacy
“Of course. Enjoy your nap.” Says
Stella, returning to her work
“Wilco. Stacy out.” Says Stacy, yawning
and embracing the rest
Stacy violently lassos the wild z’s
from atop her trusty dream steed while Stella enjoys herself as the sensible
paperwork sings her happy fantastical songs about an orderly and reasonable
world that doesn’t exist. Stella eventually closes her book and puts her papers
away and whistles loudly.
“Now that I’ve got my work done I can
help you, Stacy.” Says Stella, in an ambivalently stern caring tone
“I’m sure you want to study a bit
more.” Says Stacy
“I do, but getting you started on
things you need to do is more pressing than doing things I simply want to do.”
Says Stella
“I’m sure you want to lie down and
cuddle or something. Come here.” Says Stacy
“It’s tempting, but stoicism prevents
me from indulging in such things.” Says Stella
“You’re just going to leave me cold and
lonely like this?” says Stacy, feigning a pout
“I’d feel guilty if I let your grades
slip through my fingers.” Says Stella
“They’re my grades, don’t worry about
it.” Says Stacy
“Sadly I’m the one who’s responsible
for them being decent, and it would be a disservice to you if I didn’t uphold
my responsibility.” Says Stella
“Don’t put the world on your shoulders
like that.” Says Stacy
“It would hurt me more to see you get
poor grades, so be a dear and get started on your work, ok?” asks Stella
“I don’t have any, thankfully. I’ll get
my things out and even let you look through them.” Says Stacy, getting up and
going to her desk to pull out her things
“I hope you didn’t just throw the
papers away.” says Stella
“That would take a step of effort
between putting the assignments away and forgetting about them.” Says Stacy
“Thank god for that.” Says Stella,
walking over to Stacy and looking over her shoulder at her papers
“See, no work.” Says Stacy, thumbing
through the handful of papers stuffed into the front of her notebook
“Why is there a bullet on your mantle?
Damn it, Stacy. Are you that crazy? Just letting people see that you’re some
lunatic with a handgun?” asks Stella
“It’s just sitting there not doing anything;
it’s not a crime to have a bullet.” Says Stacy
“It’s suspicious as fuck, what do you
say to the police when they walk in and see that you take pride in your bullet
sitting on your desk while they suspect you of murder?” Says Stella
“Half of America would be in prison if
having a bullet was a crime. They need evidence and the bullet is not
evidence.” Says Stacy
“Put it away; hide it with the rest of
your stuff. Jesus. I don’t want to see you take pride in the things you do. Why
is that bullet not with the rest of them?” asks Stella
“It’s an important bullet.” Says Stacy
“What?” asks Stella
“That one’s for me. Just in case.” Says
Stacy
“What the fuck? Why that one? If you
are going to fucking kill yourself I don’t see a difference between any
bullet.” asks Stella, upset
“Alpha and Omega.” Says Stacy, grim and
bold
“What does this have to do with god?”
asks Stella
“This is the last one I have that
created me, and if it comes down to it, I’d like it to end me.” Says Stacy
“Are you suicidal or something? What
are you talking about?” asks Stella, upset and confused
“If I’m sitting in this bunker one day
and I know my war has been lost, I’m at least going to be the one who chooses
how it ends.” Says Stacy
“Why this bullet?” asks Stella
“I just want to feel mom’s fingers
touch me one last time. Let her hold her baby as she slips away.” says Stacy,
aggressively sad, tearing up slightly
“What does this have to do with mom?”
asks Stella
“Even if it’s just by proxy, this is
all I have left of her. It’s my only memento of mom, it means too much to me to
squander it thoughtlessly like I did the rest of them.” Says Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy. I can’t lose both
of you to the same bullshit.” Says Stella, staring to cry
“It’s just my last resort, I’m sure you’d
rather have it this way then to watch me be put on a show trial and executed on
public television.” Says Stacy
“I don’t give a fuck Stacy, if it comes
to that just make sure there’s an extra bullet laying around for me, ok? I
can’t handle this shit. This is like twice as sad now. Jesus Christ.” Says
Stella,
“I don’t know. I think it’s kind of
comforting, like mom is there to save me in times of trouble.” Says Stacy
“God damn it, Stacy. Why do you always
have to remind me of this shit?” asks Stella, sitting on Stacy’s lap, hugging
her tightly, crying, unable to support herself
“The sunshine is indifferent to the
pain induced by the truth it illuminates.” Says Stacy
“You could try harder to hide these
things from me, damn it.” Says Stella
“It’s ok. Think of it as a good thing,
we can save ourselves all the pain and misery of the bullshit rigmarole. We
might be forced to do these things to survive, but we don’t have to sit through
the pomp and circumstance of our damnation.” Says Stacy
“God damn it.” Mutters Stella
“I don’t have any work, ok. Let’s just
lay down for a bit.” Says Stacy, distantly but well aware of the fact that she
upset Stella
“Is it easy to use the gun? It’s
terrible that the only thought that comforts me right now is putting a bullet
in my head.” Says Stella
“Just press the tip of the gun against
the roof of your mouth and pull the trigger. That’s the last resort though, I’m
only telling you because I don’t want you to fuck it up and suffer needlessly
though a botched suicide and the show trial.” Says Stacy
“It’s foolproof, right?” asks Stella
“For the most part, just don’t aim too
low or it will miss your brain and you won’t die.” Says Stacy
“God damn it. Stacy. I want this shit
to be over. This is so fucking terrible. Why? Damn it. Why?” asks Stella
“It’s going to be all right. We’re
doing fine, let’s just try to enjoy the good times. If you think about that
sort of stuff, just be reminded that we don’t have to live through the bad
times. It’s nothing but good times from here on out ok?” asks Stacy
“I’m so scared, Stacy.” Says Stella
“There’s nothing to be scared of. We’re
the masters of our own destiny, so that’s all you need to remember. If I don’t
fuck up and you don’t fuck up it should be smooth sailing.” Says Stacy
“Fucking up seems so easy to do at this
point. How do I know we haven’t already fucked up?” asks Stella
“Well, we’d both be dead. As long as
you don’t go turn me in to the cops or start to gossip about my civil service,
you’re doing a good job. Let’s just forget about it, ok? You want to lay down
for a little bit?” asks Stacy, rather detached from reality but methodically
attempting to calm her sister, picking her up and laying her down in bed and lying
beside her, holding her as she cries
“I can’t handle it, Stacy. This shit just
causes me to have a mental breakdown. I can’t fucking think. It’s just fear and
despair rushing around in my head like a whirlpool drowning me.” Says Stella
“It’s ok, Stella. Every time you break down just know I’m right here to fix you
up. Just breathe, and know everything will be all right.” Says Stacy, holding
Stella tightly as Stella breaths heavily on her shoulder between the sobbing
“Nothing but good times, I’m here,
nothing is wrong, there’s nothing but good times ahead of us.” Says Stacy,
holding her sister in a silence broken by nothing but the sounds of sickening
sadness for a long while before Stella’s breathing begins to slow and the tears
begin to slow.
“My face hurts from crying so much.”
Says Stella
“It’s ok, rainbows come after the
rain.” Says Stacy
“Where are the fucking rainbows?” asks
Stella
“Right here, Stella. A warm, lovely,
rainbow to make you happy.” Says Stacy, kissing Stella’s neck
“What can I be happy about right now?”
asks Stella
“I’m here, you’re here, that’s all we
need. Don’t worry about anything else.” Says Stacy
“Don’t let me go, not for a long time.”
Says Stella
“I’ll hold you as long as it takes. I’m
not going anywhere. Just let it go. Let go of the sadness, you don’t need it.
Be free.” Says Stacy, holding Stella in a long silence
Stella’s mind slowly dies as her own
blood intermingles with the ice coursing through Stacy’s heart and mind, Stella
comforted by this dead desolate feeling of lifeless expansive tundra that fills
her body, manipulating the cold to murder the blazing demons of emotion by
freezing their hearts and mind, protecting herself with this new found
destructive force of frozen desolation, she finds unending comfort in her only
friend, the ice itself that holds her and warms her body in unquestioning and
unending devotion.
“How can you do this? How can you be
fine with all of this?” asks Stella, eventually breaking the silence
“You are somehow still tempted to drink
the liquor that makes you so feeble and ill.” Says Stacy
“I just want to know. I know your crazy
but that doesn’t explain how you can just smile and enjoy this life like it
doesn’t bother you at all.” Says Stella
“I think that explains the smiling. You
know I don’t need a decent reason to convince myself of something; I can
convince myself that senselessness is sensible because it suits my fancy. I
simply reason with my tastes, and if something suits my tastes, that is plenty
to convince me of it’s worth. I’d rather savor a flavorful poison than suckle
on the bitter stones of reality.” Says Stacy
“You’re ok with dying, I don’t
understand.” Says Stella, weakly
“Living is the root of all evil, even
the faithful say death is the only salvation from such senseless meaningless
torture at the hands of one’s own species and the facilitating reality. I care
not for man, nor self-awareness, nor technology, nor society: these are all
blights upon the natural purity that once was, the tertiary cancer that blights
the secondary cancer of life that blights the primary cancer of existence
within this accursed void. Human life, let alone its own cancers, is a
grotesque parasitic deformity sustaining itself from the parasitic deformity
that spawned it known as organic life, which itself formed as a cancer within
the original misbegotten egg of the bastard child that is the universe. It is
nearly impossible to respect if one rids one acknowledges the reality of it
all.” Says Stacy
“That’s pretty fucking irrelevant. What
about you, this body, your feelings, and how does your nonsense and disdain for
everything cause you to not fear death?” asks Stella, rubbing Stacy’s back,
holding her tightly
“I see cattle, and pigs, and chickens
reared and fattened to be slaughtered and I see that I am no different. While
some cattle are slaughtered and others have their milk harvested, humans are no
different, their work is harvested like milk until they die or they are
slaughtered and eaten as food for the eternal war machine. I have one of these
two fates, being a beast no different than these, and I care for neither to the
point that I am indifferent to my fate. I do not have the capacity to
sympathize with every cattle slaughtered or milked to death, so I show no sympathy
to humans who are worthy of even less, myself included. My fate is death, by
milking or slaughter, so I am content with being chosen for slaughter to feed
the war machine of some unknown force of virtue, for I would otherwise die from
labor being milked from my teats as a slave of Babylon if I was not given this
opportunity. I even find this fate to be rather tasteful.” Says Stacy
“What the fuck, Stacy? Something more
sensible please.” Says Stella, hopelessly confused
“We are all beasts of burden and the
value of our own lives is delusion, we are but sacrifices that bleed work,
meat, or milk until they die to perpetuate the power of men who believe
themselves to be gods. I loathe these men, and to die with a shred of dignity
as a soldier of fortune paid in pleasure for my service to some spooky army of
virtue is fine with me, much like any soldier who loves their country will
proudly die on the battlefield, and enemy of my enemy is my friend, and if I am
dying, I would rather do so in the name and honor of something I can actually
support, rather than dying in the name of the slaver who owns me.” Says Stacy
“It can’t just be something simple,
that I could take to heart?” asks Stella
“I’d rather die being burned alive if I
can leave some kind of mark on society than willingly lie down in the dirt with
a smile on my face and allow Babylon to bury me alive in order to fertilize
their fields with my corpse.” Says Stacy
“I don’t have any issues with society
so it doesn’t really help. I really don’t want to die, I don’t want you to die,
and it’s just really fucking scary to think about, especially since you’re so
goddamn gung-ho about dying for shits and giggles.” Says Stella
“I don’t know Stella, just think of it
like a book, when it’s the end of the book, it’s the end of the book, as sad or
whatever it might be, that’s just the end. I’ve lived a good life, I’m happy with the
results. I don’t mind doing this due to misanthropy and it really makes me
savor the life I have left. I’m going to die sooner or later, fearing the event
doesn’t change anything, so I may well embrace it. I’m sure you can think of
something like that, like a test at school or something.” says Stacy
“Just a like a test at the end of the
year, get it over with and then vacation.” Says Stella
“Permanent vacation.” Says Stacy,
fantasizing about the rest and relaxation
“That sounds nice. I could use a
vacation after all of this.” Says Stella, cuddling Stacy
“I think we should still enjoy the
experience until the bell tolls. No point in squandering such an opportunity.”
asks Stacy, pleased with Stella’s delusion
“I want to be sick like you, to feel
some sick hunger that compels me to murder people, or at least help you do it.
I don’t know. I feel like that would be the right thing to do. I’m losing my
mind Stacy. I don’t know how I can think that you’re right and I’m wrong, but I
guess it’s just the calm smile on your face like you know every damn thing and
god sits on your shoulder and smiles and tells you that you’re a wonderful
person when you these things.” Says Stella
“I think if you’re hungry for me,
enough to keep me keeping on, then that’s more than enough, that’s plenty sick
to be all smiles around me knowing that I murder people. The part about god is
rather accurate, though.” Says Stacy
“You know I’m hungry for you. I want
you, all of you, all the time. I want you to hold me, and love me, and remind
me that I’m not alone in this world, that you care about me, that I’m not being
thrown to the wolves and left out to die like I don’t matter at all. I don’t
care who or what you are anymore. You’re my sanity at this point, I need you. I
need you so much.” Says Stella, nuzzling into Stacy’s breast, once again filled
with insecurity
“I love you Stella; I’ll do all of that
and more if I can. I need you too. I almost need you too much.” Says Stacy,
kissing Stella’s forehead
“I love you Stacy, I love feeling
needed, like I’m significant somehow.” Says Stella
“I doubt my dreams will come true, but
even if they do, no matter how grand in scope my empire is, you will always be
in the significant figures.” Says Stacy
Stella chuckles, “I’m surprised you
even paid attention to that.” She says
“I tend to pay attention to significant
things; it’s the trivial ones that I don’t bother with.” Says Stacy
“So I take it that’s the only thing
you’ve learned this year.” Says Stella
“I don’t know, I pick up on things that
are allegedly significant, important, or even just ‘on the test’, you’ve got to
listen for the keywords.” Says Stacy
“You could just listen to all the
words. They’re all likely significant.” Says Stella
“Most of talking is filler that will
never be relevant to anything since it’s not on the test.” Says Stacy
“Maybe you could pay attention because
it’s interesting.” Says Stella
“My sanity prevents me from believing
such nonsense.” Says Stacy
“Sorry, I forgot how hard it must be to
be sane all the time.” Jokes Stella
“You really think I’m sane?” asks Stacy
“Maybe.” Says Stella, playfully,
willing to believe such a thing due to Stacy’s composed character in the face
of her instability, mentally exhausted to the point she could no longer reason
for herself and is simply judging on appearances
“It feels amazing being called sane by
you. My mind is blown right now.” Says Stacy, truly amazed and mildly bewildered,
mountains of papers citing her insanity instantly set alight by one claim of
sanity
“I
don’t care, even if you aren’t, you’re the best I’ve got, so it will have to
do.” Says Stella
“The car doesn’t have to be pretty to
get you where you need to go.” Says Stacy
“Good. Just don’t leave me behind, ok?”
asks Stella
“I never could.” Says Stacy, proud of
being able to find some sort of resolution to the situation and amazed by her
newfound sanity, enjoying the loving support of her
After a pleasant time spent being lost
in the warmth and comfort emanating from Stacy’s body, Stella’s compulsive
responsibility starts to break down at the walls of her Eden and sully her
blessed ability to fear knowledge and the truth to the point of becoming
completely ignorant to it.
“We still have to get you clean, you
know.” Says Stella, mildly sleepy, still cuddling the bony pillow known as
Stacy
“Do we now?” asks Stacy, haughtily
rhetorically suspicious, presuming fallacy, recalcitrant to the seemingly
nonsensical idea
“Of course we do, especially after all
of the things we’ve done today, not to mention whatever you happened to do by
yourself.” Says Stella
“O naiveté, you seek to wash this
filthy witness from my hand?” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you and I both rather the multitudinous
seas incarnadine.” Says Stella
“An amorous ardent healthy hue in place
of such a sickly sordid shade of squalor rife with jetsam from the vice of life
would suit the seas and the breeze, in my eyes at least.” Says Stacy
“You took that well beyond a little
allusion.” Says Stella, midlly confused
“I am high on airs, I am a fool, but
euthanasia by euphoria is to drown in joy, while desiccation and dilapidation
endeared by the winds of dystopian dysphoria is to die from desolation. If I am
to die, I will make them fish me from the sky rather than sleep in the grave I
dug for myself as a youth with contempt for the fact that I still breathe and
wield free will.” Says Stacy
“At least you’re delightfully insane.”
Says Stella
“Book-learning is the nonpareil
witchcraft after all; of course I am cursed with insanity for such treachery.”
Says Stacy
“What books are you learning from
exactly?” asks Stella
“I learn from the good books, the pure
and noble books, the ones where words are but words and not effigies of
reality, the flavorful ones as opposed to the annals recording the crimes of
treason and torture mankind has committed against the world at large.” Says
Stacy
“At least you learn something, even if
it’s just airs beneath your wings. Get ready for your bath, I don’t want to
drag you there, but I’m willing to do so if duty calls.” Says Stella
“Fine. Just to make you happy, of
course.” Says Stacy, cutely, getting up out of bed and grabbing a pair of
knickers and a nightgown
“Good.” Says Stella, getting up and following
suit
“You’re jumping at the gun, so I’ll let
you go first.” Says Stacy
“You know I’ve got to make sure you
actually take a bath.” Says Stella
“I take baths you know.” Says Stacy
“You’re like a cat; you get wet and
jump out of the water.” Says Stella
“That counts.” Says Stacy
“It doesn’t. Go.” says Stella, prodding
Stacy, Stacy mumbles unintelligible excuses hopelessly out of futile compulsion
as she walks out of the door, Stella follows her into the bathroom
The girls place their things on the
counter. Stacy pulls down her shorts and sits on the toilet, a bit upset with
being forced to bathe once again. Stella starts to run the water.
“You can’t just sit on the toilet
forever.” She says, Stacy leans forward with her elbows bracing her on her
knees, stares at the floor intensely in silence, breathing steadily, relaxing
the abdomen, continuing for some moments before teetering back upright,
continuing with the breathing and relaxing the abdomen even more, she leans
forward again breathing deeply, holding her breath, biting down, flexing the
abdomen downwards and outwards, pushing down with the diaphragm, after a tense
few moments she eventually exhales forcefully, before once again breathing
deeply, holding her breath, biting down, flexing the abdomen downward and
outwards, pushing down with the diaphragm before she finally relaxes in this
position, sighing athletically a few times before sitting upright again. She bounces on the seat rapidly for a few
shakes, wipes herself clean, kicks off her pants and flushes the toilet.
“I didn’t know you were so intense about
pooping. What was the bouncing for?” asks Stella
“When the last bit of stool is coming
out, sometimes you can feel the tip break off and a little piece is straggling behind.
The bouncing is the difference between a clean wipe because the piece finally
falls or simply smearing shit all over the place for a few minutes.” Says
Stacy, taking off her shirt
“I see. You’re wise beyond your years.”
Says Stella, who pulls down her shorts and takes a turn on the toilet
“I think only an idiot prefers the
latter to the former.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to be keen to come to those
conclusions though.” Says Stella
“It’s an art-form; it takes skill and
concentration to produce quality results. Sloppy work is distasteful to say the
least. Attempting to emulate the master, are we?” asks Stacy
“I’ve just got to pee. You’re kind of
distracting me though.” Says Stella
“You’ve got to prioritize, block out
the distractions when duty calls.” Says Stacy
“It’s not that easy, just be quiet.”
Says Stella, Stacy rolls her eyes, Stella eventually takes care of her business
and cleans up
“You know you can poop in front of me,
I can give you some pointers you know.” Says Stacy
“I’m confident in my ability to poop,
Stacy.” Says Stella, undressing
“There’s a difference between writing
prose and writing beautiful prose.” Says Stacy
“There’s a difference between pooping
and writing prose. I usually take care of business at school anyways. Get in
the tub, you can’t delay any longer.” Says Stella, getting behind Stacy and
slapping her ass-cheeks with both hands
“Make it quick, damn it.” Says Stacy,
reluctantly getting in the tub
“I’ve got to put you to the test, make
sure you actually know what you’re doing.” Says Stella, sitting behind her,
begging to wash her lovingly
“I kind of like it when you do it to be
honest.” Says Stacy
“I thought you didn’t like baths.” Says
Stella
“I just don’t have the work ethic and
it seems like getting wet for no real reason, but if it’s free I don’t mind too
much.” Says Stacy
“You know you’ve still got to wash me,
right?” asks Stella
“You’re the professional here.” Says
Stacy
“I like it when you wash me though.”
Says Stella, nuzzling Stacy’s neck
“I’ll do what I can.” Says Stacy
“Thank you. I’m glad your arm looks
better already.” Says Stella
“It’s remarkable to think Jenna’s magic
is that powerful.” Says Stacy
“What about Ophelia’s?” asks Stella
“That one I’m not so sure about, she’s
not as sharp in the mind, you know, I think the whole magical prowess is
largely determined by one’s ability to think it through.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure she can do something.” Says
Stella
“It is hard to fathom what power love
has over heartless men, but I suppose there is some hope.” Says Stacy
“There is always hope. Close your eyes,
ok?” Says Stella, washing Stacy’s face, who happily splashes off the soap when
she’s finished, Stella proceeds to wash Stacy’s hair slowly, eventually pulling
her into her lap to rinse the lather, pulling her hair to the side and kissing
her neck
“My turn.” She says as she gets up and
switches positions with Stacy “You remember how to do it?” she asks
“Sadly.” Says Stacy, lathering soap
into the washcloth and beginning to wash Stella’s back
“Slow and steady wins the race.” Says
Stella
“This truly is a labor of love, I’ve
always been a fan of fast and steady, but I’ll try to make you happy.” Says
Stella, slowing down the pace of her washing
“Thank you.” Says Stella, Stacy washes
the rest of her body with a sleepy pace mildly enjoying the warmth and company
as opposed to the usual frigid isolation of her own mind in the silence
“You want to do your face?” asks Stacy
“Sure. I don’t trust you on that part
yet.” Says Stella, washing her face “You can do my hair though, since your arm
is better.” She says, Stacy washes Stella’s hair and dips her to rinse it
“All done.” Says Stacy, tapping Stella
on the back of the shoulders with both hands
“Don’t you want to lay here and hold me
for a while? The water’s still warm.” Says Stella, grabbing Stacy’s hands,
wrapping them around her waist and holding them there before leaning back into
Stacy
“I think it’s bad for the skin to spend
too much time in the tub.” Says Stacy
“A little longer won’t hurt you.” Says
Stella, enjoying Stacy’s embrace for a long while, Stacy leaning against the
back of the tub, rather warm to the idea of the nice human blanket
“I’m falling asleep. This is a bad
idea.” Says Stacy, yawning, moving her hands under Stella’s hips and slapping
them softly underwater
“I enjoyed it. Thanks for that.” Says
Stella, getting up
“It’s better bathing with company, if
you think I’m crazy when I’m with other people you’d be amazed at my mind when
it’s alone.” Says Stacy, also getting out of the tub
“I’m happy to keep you company.” Says Stella,
starting to dry herself off
“I appreciate it.” Says Stacy, happier
every moment she becomes dryer
The girls get dressed and brush their
teeth to get ready for bed, both exhausted with happy memories, the unhappy
ones beaten to death by repression or general indifference. They walk into
their room and turn out the light. Stella grab’s Stacy’s hips and spins her.
“You’re not going to let me be lonely
tonight, are you?” asks Stella
“I think we agreed on sleeping in your
bed tonight.” Says Stacy
“Good.” Says Stella, pulling Stacy onto
her bed on top of her, kissing her softly before they both climb under the
light bed-covers of perpetual summertime
Stacy enjoys the bedding, Stella
enjoying her bedding of Stacy, wrapping herself around her best friend,
slipping her arms under the gown to embrace the raw reality of bare skin. Stacy
enjoys the second blanket, comforted by the extra warmth reminding her of
basking in the Bay City sunshine, pulling her living blanket greedily more so
on top of herself to enjoy the fact that it emanates the physical antithesis of
cold heartless death. Stella sees this as an invitation and begins to grope
Stacy’s breast lovingly and kiss her neck.
“I thought it was bedtime.” Says Stacy,
sleepily
“You don’t want a little more
playtime?” asks Stella, playfully, mounting Stacy under the covers and staring
at her in the dim yellow glow of the streetlight that peeks through the blinds
“We can play tomorrow.” Says Stacy
“Just a little bit?” asks Stella,
longingly
“What got you in the mood?” asks Stacy
“It kind of turns me on knowing that my
life is entirely in your hands, especially when you hold me like this. It feels
so good.” Says Stella
“It feels good having a reason to live;
you know my life was pretty empty before all of this. This feels way better
than reality throwing stones at me trying to ruin my pipe dreams.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad I’m that reason.” Says
Stella, seductively
“Me too.” Says Stacy, Stella kisses
Stacy with a soft compassionate love that Stacy returns, this escalates as
Stella’s desire to be desired increases the passion fueling her lips and
tongue, which softens Stacy’s heart enough for her to return the appreciation
gratefully, groping Stella’s ass and pulling her close, Stella starts to grind
on Stacy’s hips as she fondles her breast and hold’s Stacy’s face lovingly
“Not too much, ok?” asks Stacy, pulling
away for a second almost bashfully reluctant
“That should do for now. I’m glad
you’re willing to comfort me like this, it really helps.” Says Stella happily,
kissing Stacy’s lips with a longing softness before returning to cuddling her
“You know you’re the only person in the
world I could possibly be physically or sexually attracted to” says Stacy
“You don’t have to lie to me to make me
love you, Stacy. I already love you.” Says Stella
“It’s the truth” says Stacy, boldly
“Really?” says Stella, propping herself
up a bit, looking at Stacy in mild disbelief
“Of course, your body is perfect in
every way, so damn beautiful too.” Says Stacy, kissing Stella playfully
“I love hearing you sweet talk me like
this.” Says Stella, starting to slowly and compulsively grind against Stacy’s hips once again, kissing her
neck “If I’m perfect what does that make Jenna and Ophelia?” says Stella,
stricken by a bit of suspicion
“I can respect that they’re beautiful,
but I could never be attracted to someone like that” says Stacy
“Really? They’re both dead sexy and at
the end of the day I’m dainty and petite without any real features” says
Stella, still not believing Stacy
“To even think of anyone else the way I
think about you makes me uncomfortable to the point I’m nearly gagging, it just
feels wrong, I can respect them and every other good looking person, but they
just seem like vulgar pieces of meat to me, everybody but you.” Says Stacy,
kissing Stella again
“What’s so special about me?” asks
Stella, attempting to unveil the actual truth
“Everything.” Says Stacy, boldly
“You’re a damn good liar, but what is
it exactly about me that you love so much.” Says Stella, playfully fishing for
some more sweet talk at this point
“I’m sure you can figure it out.” Says
Stacy, playfully
“I can’t fathom why.” Says Stella, too
logical in her approach
“You know me well enough, it should be
common sense.” Says Stacy, warmly, bold yet again
“God damn it, Stacy, really?” says
Stella, rolling her eyes, entirely let down by the response
“What?” asks Stacy, truly wondering why the answer wasn’t
enjoyed
“You made my heart sink right there, all that build up.”
Says Stella
“You should love it.” Says Stacy, playfully indignant
“I should love that you basically just told me that you‘re
only attracted to yourself.” Says Stella, dryly
“That means I’m only attracted to you,
Stella, I can’t love myself, but I can love you.” Says Stacy, almost pleading
indignantly to have her reasons appreciated
“You want me to believe that you can’t
love yourself?” says Stella, cold and serious
“I can get high on egotism and pride
all day, but that’s not the same, not even close. I love you Stella, you’re all
the good things in my life, I would have no desire to live this cold violent
meaningless life if I didn’t have you here to warm me up and take care of me
when I come home. You make it worth my while to follow through with every
venture into hell and come back alive, you’ll feed me and keep me sane, accept
me for who I am, and now you’re even willing to warm me up. I love you, Stella.
I need you.” Says Stacy, holding Stella tightly and nuzzling her neck
“I love you so much Stacy. You make me
feel like a real person, that I matter, that I’m not some nameless meaningless
ghost. You’re the only thing that gives meaning to my life.” Says Stella,
tearing up a bit joyfully, collapsing onto Stacy and mutually holding each
other in a compassionate silence
“I still think your body is amazing and
you’re the most beautiful girl in the world though.” Says Stacy, playfully
serious
“The thought of you enjoying me like
that feels so good, I’ve never had any confidence about my body, but if you
like it that’s all the confidence I need.” Says Stella, holding herself over
Stacy, fairly excited by the compliment
“I love it.” Says Stacy, kissing
Stella’s sternum
“Good. My body is yours to love.” Says
Stella, kissing Stacy softly
“Don’t mind if I do.” Enjoying Stella,
pulling her close and kissing her with a genuine care and compassion enhanced
with the flavors of narcissism, Stella even more pleased than usual with her
newfound confidence and reassurance of the mutuality of her love, eventually
sleepiness takes a hold of Stacy who starts to drift off a bit, Stella still
eager to enjoy Stacy’s company and the comfort her body and beating heart
alike, Stacy letting her have her fill
“You awake?” asks Stella, as her own
sleepiness starts to tempt her
“Barely.” Says Stacy
“I was just thinking about your arm,
did anyone notice it, like in gym or something?” asks Stella
“No. I had a bandage on it yesterday
and today it looked more like a weird mole than anything else. Besides, the
girls who look at other girls when we change for damn sure aren’t looking at
me. I just told the teacher I hurt it on the weekend a bit and she didn’t
care.” Says Stacy
“I was curious if you even showered
after gym, I kind of figured you didn’t so it might be harder to people to
notice anyways.” Says Stella
“I rinse off a bit, I’m pretty sure we
lose participation points if we don’t. Some nonsense about how being dirty is
‘disgusting’ and ‘inappropriate for a school environment’. I do what I can to
get the points seeing how that’s the only grade in the class, I’m not trying to
have my only easy grade suffer needlessly.” Says Stacy
“And you’re sure nobody noticed?” asks
Stella
“All the girls who look at anything
besides the floor or the wall tend to salivate over Ophelia, at least in my
class.” Says Stacy
“I kind of feel bad for her, I bet she
gets embarrassed.” Says Stella
“She just smiles and waves at them,
they’re the ones that get embarrassed when she does that.” Says Stacy
“I’m surprised, seeing how religious
she is; I figured she would be upset by that sort of thing.” Says Stella
“She doesn’t understand that sort of
thing, even with the normal side of that business she’s largely at a loss.”
Says Stacy
“How does she not understand that? It
seems like common sense.” asks Stella
“She just has never been told about
most of the adult aspects of life, certainly not that some girls like other
girls, so I figure what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her. She’s mildly wary of
boys liking her and being mischievous, but she would never suspect girls of
being capable of that.” Says Stella
“You don’t want to try to help her
understand that stuff?” asks Stella
“We beat around the bush, but we don’t
want her bringing up stuff she’s not supposed to know about according to her
parents. They still see her as a little girl for the most part.” Says Stacy
“She’s hardly little when you look at
her measurements.” Says Stella
“If there was a brain measurement you
would redact that statement pretty quickly.” Says Stacy
“She’s not that dumb, I know she’s
ignorant, but she’s not stupid.” Says Stella
“She’s not stupid, just childlike. I
feel like all hell could break loose when and if she grows out of that stage if
it’s not done properly.” Says Stacy
“What do you think could happen?” asks
Stella
“I doubt she would ever actually have
sex with a boy any time soon, but if she did and got some disease or got
pregnant she would lose her mind and her parents would be brutally upset with
her. She would not see the light of day for a long time, they might even disown
her or something, I don’t know.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think she knows not to have
sex until marriage?” asks Stella
“I think she knows something similar to
that, but I don’t think she knows what sex is. She didn’t take sex education
with us in middle school because her parents didn’t let her. She knows boys
aren’t supposed to touch her so I figure that includes sex. I don’t bring up
the subject.” Says Stacy
“That’s good, I guess. I’d hate to see
her life ruined because she does something stupid.” Says Stella
“Yeah, that’s what me and Jenna worry
about sometimes, so we try to keep her on a short leash.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad she has friends like you.
It’s so touching to hear you be a nice person like that.” Says Stella, nuzzling
Stacy lovingly
“I just feel like I’m kind of
responsible for her, like her parental guardian or something. She doesn’t
really like being treated like a child, but she is a child at the end of the
day. I try not to be too hard on her, just remind her of important things from
time to time because she tends to forget them in favor of her fantasies.” Says
Stacy
“So she’s just like you?” asks Stella
“Well, if I was a small child
captivated by storybook love, perhaps.” Says Stacy
“I know you are deep down inside,
everybody is.” Says Stella
“I’ve got you, that’s more than I could
ever ask for. Misanthropy literally makes me sick when I see most people; I
can’t bear to think of something like storybook romance in my life.” Says Stacy
“Why so cold? Why the disdain?” asks
Stella
“Pride. I’m too proud. I’m the giant
that eats the tiny people; I see them like ants below my feet. My size being my
intelligence I guess.” Says Stacy
“Even your friends?” asks Stella
“I like my friends, but in their
defense they do have some sort of quasi-respect for my ideas, the people who
would disrespect my ideas are looked down upon like worthless feeble minded
imbeciles.” Says Stacy
“So practically everybody in the world
falls under that umbrella?” asks Stella
“Pretty much.” Says Stacy
“If somebody respected your ideas would
you like them?” asks Stella
“As much as possible, which isn’t
anywhere near that much, I am still thoroughly disgusted by the beast in its
raw form, disregarding any disagreeable traits it might have acquired
throughout its life. Pigs roll around in shit all day, but are still cleaner
than humans who bathe in vice.” Says Stacy
“You’re such a hypocrite.” Says Stella
“I never said I found myself to be
anything other than disgusting.” Says Stacy
“You still love yourself though.” Says
Stella
“Only through the pride of
acknowledging that I am a lowly disgusting and vile beast while others revere
themselves as godlike creatures, I see myself as enlightened, however no less
disgusting and vulgar. That’s why it’s so easy for me to do those good deeds, I
really loathe the beasts.” Says Stacy
“You know I’m one of them, right?” asks
Stella
“You’re different, your one of my few
allies, so that makes you enlightened as well.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. I don’t mind being
enlightened, even though I’m pretty sure the correct word is insane.” Says
Stella
“I’ll make sure to change that
definition when I find the chance. It’s nothing but an opinion, after all.”
Says Stacy
“It’s just a word; it doesn’t mean
anything to me. I can’t tell the difference when sanity feels like insanity and
insanity feels like sanity. To be honest I prefer the latter.” Says Stella
“That’s because it’s far more
preferable.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope it stays that way.” Says
Stella
“It will. There’s nothing more insane
than being sane. Sanity is torture; only masochists enjoy that sort of thing.
That’s why everyone tends to be a little bit crazy, just to dull the pain if
they can’t stop it entirely.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you’re teaching me how to
stop it.” Says Stella
“It’s a valuable skill to have. Let’s
go to sleep, I might be able to talk in my sleep, but I don’t trust myself to
say the right things.” Says Stacy
“Ok. Good night.” Says Stella
“Good night.” Says Stacy, the girls
easily fall asleep together
The office king stumbles through the
door to his workplace from the celestial plane, thick with stubble, wreaking of
alcohol, yesterday’s clothes, and his pants sullied with urine, his face
bloodied from a long night of heavy drinking and fighting. The face of his
pleasantly plump secretary, the only company the office, knows blossoms into its
usual pink brimming with her usual delicate fury. The king and meek threats
echoing his limited mental capacity are half-hearted at best, barely living at
all. His secretary slowly cleans the blood and then the stubble from his face
as the last of the tiny rat kings scurry into the ample bosom of the secretary.
Slowly business returns to usual as the secretary is once again marked by her
lighthearted hopeless sadness that fills the entire office save for the king’s
meager frame, more hopeless than sad, speckled with fantasies as pure and white
as the potential and power of her boss whose functional alcoholism keeps the
both of them alive. The office king reminds all of his subsidiaries that he
keeps all of them alive, subsidiaries who greet him with a hearty toast to the
glory of office labor. Two of these countless dependent subsidiaries lay in bed
together, one enjoying sleep while the other enjoys the other enjoying sleep.
“Morning.” Says Stacy, yawning
“Good morning. You sleep ok?” Says
Stella
“Of course.” Says Stacy, yawning once
again
“You don’t mind sleeping with me?” asks
Stella
“You’re like a stuffed animal, but like
10 times cuddlier.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad you like it, you make it way
easier for me to sleep. You keep my happy in so many ways.” Says Stella, still
cuddling Stacy
“Happy to help.” Says Stacy, rubbing
Stella’s back amiably
“It’s a shame we can’t lay here all
morning.” Says Stella
“You’re the only one who makes that
statement modal.” Says Stacy
“Regardless, we still shouldn’t do it,
with school and all.” Says Stella
“That wouldn’t stop me.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad I have at least a meager
amount of responsibility.” Says Stella
“I’d hate to see a modest amount of
responsibility at that rate.” Says Stacy
“Let’s get up, ok? I’ll cook you
breakfast.” says Stella, kissing Stacy’s cheek and getting out of bed
“You’re lucky your breakfast is so good
it could wake up a narcoleptic.” Says Stacy, sitting up and rubbing her eyes
“I figure you’d pretend to be if I
didn’t cook for you.” Says Stella, changing into day clothes
“It’s real until proven to be fake.”
Says Stacy, getting up and following suit
“I think you could do a convincing
charade until they prescribe you the medicine to keep you awake. The last thing
you need are amphetamines. Your mouth would never stop.” Says Stella
“I wouldn’t mind, I’m pretty sure I
have ADD or something, maybe I could do well in school at that point.” Says
Stacy
“I’m pretty sure you don’t pay
attention out of principle, not because you actually lack the capability.” Says
Stella
“That’s probably true. I am
distractible though.” Says Stacy
“That’s probably because your trains of
thought tend to plow through any obstacles in their way. I doubt taking
stimulants would help slow down those trains.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure amphetamine is the
panacea for children’s problems at this point. It was the panacea for German
disenfranchisement and that nation transformed themselves from a crippled debt
slave into to world power in a couple of decades.” Says Stacy
“The last thing you need is to be more
like Nazi Germany.” Says Stella
“Just because a lunatic can command a
nation that gets high to the point of blindness on hard labor, work ethic, and
intelligence to their death doesn’t mean the nation was bad. It takes one bad conductor
to kill everybody on a train; the people on the train just want to get to
work.” Says Stacy
“You tend to resemble the lunatic more
than the worker.” Says Stella
“I think I’m a bit more respectable. I
antagonize everybody fairly; I am an equal opportunity employer of scapegoats.
It’s not like vehement partisanship is exclusive to the Nazi’s, every vehement
leftist wants to kill every right-winger and vice versa.” Says Stacy
“You said yourself that you are just
scapegoating people. How can you be ok with that?” asks Stella
“It takes a village to raise a child,
so it takes a child to implicate a village of aiding and abetting a criminal
when the child is convicted of a crime. Simply because somebody is not legally
liable for a crime does not mean that they are in some way responsible for the
crime, you can’t go easy on them or the same things will keep happening.” Says
Stacy
“Jesus, Stacy. It’s too early for this.
You’re like the Dr. Frankenstein of opinions.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure society is strongly
supporting replacing facts with opinions, so I think I’m just being cultured,
especially regarding the work of Dr. Frankenstein. You should be more sensitive
to people who want to grotesquely mutilate and reshape facts in order to have
their mentally ill opinions be respected as de jure facts.” Says Stacy
“That’s pretty cruel, Stacy, it’s
apples and oranges anyways.” Says Stella
“The truth is cruel, it’s apples to
apples anyways, I’m just casting judgement via the precedent.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure it’s different since
your opinions result in the preventable deaths of people.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure the comparable suicide
rates of the mutilees compared to the people with the same condition sans
mutilation would justify me and my opinions being loved, tolerated, and
accepted by society. Preventable deaths are preventable deaths, there’s no need
to split hairs. If anything you’re the one being bigoted here. If you don’t see
my point I’m just going to defend my opinions under the guise of women’s rights
and gender equality or something. Forget the gender wage gap; the male to
female ratio of despots in history is far more disparate. Triage, you know.”
Says Stacy
“Good luck getting anybody who
understands women’s rights to sympathize with you.” Says Stella
“Whoops. I meant to say ‘presidents’.”
jokes Stacy
“I guarantee if you are the first
female president there would never be another female president.” Says Stella
“That’s because there wouldn’t be any
more elections.” Says Stacy
“Not what I meant, let’s go eat. I
don’t understand how you can be sleepy one moment and right back on the
revolution horse the next.” Says Stella
“Thrills, adrenaline, even the fantasy
of power gets me going.” Says Stacy
“I should do what I can to avoid that
topic, but I could be talking about planting tulips and you could relate it to
taking over the world somehow.” Says Stella
“Everything is an allegory for everything;
all it takes is imagination to string the two together.” Says Stacy
“I’ll be quiet.” Says Stella, rolling
her eyes and leaving the room, Stacy follows her downstairs as Dale rests up
for a long day of unemployment. Stella enters the kitchen and starts to prepare
a meal.
“What’s for breakfast?” asks Stacy,
pouring herself some milk
“Eggs and toast. I’m still a bit
exhausted from yesterday, so nothing special.” Says Stella
“I can’t blame you. It was one hell of
a Tuesday.” Says Stacy
“If I can repress the bad parts it
might just be remembered as a heavenly Tuesday.” Says Stella
“I hope that’s not too hard, I’d hate
to have the bad parts spoil the good memories.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty good at repressing things.”
Says Stella
“It’s a useful skill.” Says Stacy
“Did you ever think of a topic or
interest that might be at least sort of normal? I’m curious to find some other
hidden side of you.” Says Stella
“I thought about it, gouging all of the
realism out of my brain leaving only the surreal antithesis of reality to
dominate my thought processes, I fear I might be tempted to gouge my eyes out
at the point so reality doesn’t throw stones at the sticky sweet honeycomb that
is my beautifully marred mind.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know if that would honestly be
an improvement, you might end up in the ward if you do that.” Says Stella
“It doesn’t matter, I could never do
it; my loathing of humanity prevents me from showing them any mercy by easing
off on my rebuke.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you would find a way to do
that in some surreal way regardless. Why all of the loathing, can’t you just
turn a blind eye and turn the other cheek like everybody else?” asks Stella
“Loathing is the depression of the
proud. You come to the realization that you are powerless to change reality and
instead of being saddened and crushed by your powerlessness you put yourself
above the world and relentlessly scorn everybody for their shortcomings and
inanity. It’s painful, but easily less so than the alternative.” Says Stacy
“Have you ever tried being humble?
Virtue tends to lead to happiness.” Says Stella
“I am humble enough to seek to aid the
damned fools that walk the earth. I reach out my hand to the idiots struggling
to stay alive because they feel that temporarily failing to drown simply by
flailing around is the same thing as swimming or even floating, they will tire
and drown and I am kind enough to offer my hand of salvation, regardless of the
fact that their confidence in their ability to swim will make them reluctant to
take it.” Says Stacy
“And you’re so confident that you can
swim, even though the world has apparently failed to do so.” Says Stella
“I walk on water, Stella.” Says Stacy
“Of course you do.” Says Stella
“That kind of hit me hard. Stella, do
you ever feel inadequate?” asks Stacy
“What? Yeah, I guess, sometimes. Are
you really coming to terms with reality right now?” asks Stella
“Maybe. It just feels inadequate to be
god, like being god is just some petty pittance that is entirely insignificant.
I’m sure there’s some force out there far more powerful than god, omnipotent
through countless dimensions and existences, not just some ghost who spooks
some idiots. I feel that any ghost that would give humans the time of day has
to be equally worthless and irreputable. Birds of a feather, you know.” Says
Stacy
“Wow, omnipotence is just not enough,
that’s your inadequacy.” Says Stella, frowning smugly
“I just feel that people respect god
too much, he clearly makes mistakes and can’t predict the future seeing how he
gets upset with man for making mistakes as if he couldn’t have fathomed that
sort of thing would happen. He either enjoys criticizing people to build his
ego and thus puppets them into failure or he is a failure in and of himself for
being so shortsighted to see that his own creations are little more than
walking servants of evil. That’s pretty low tier when it comes to power, I’d
say.” Says Stacy
“I mean there are plenty of other gods;
I’m sure some of them are even more powerful and make fewer mistakes. Just go
read some religious texts and take your pick of the litter.” Says Stella
“I don’t know, I feel that the common
trend is that they are human-like and thus fall victim to the same issues. They
have thoughts and senses, at a minimum, and I figure there would be a ghost out
there that could corrupt and flood their mind’s thoughts with some sort of
analogue of cancer to the point where they are enfeebled and inoperable, even
induce illusory realities to condition certain behaviors if not control them
outright by misrepresenting the reality the experience. Anything quasi-human
seems extremely fragile to me, I’d like to be some magnanimous ghost that
operates on a level similar to physics: calculated, precise, and exact; free
from the corruption of sentiments, opinions, thoughts and limited senses. One
that’s power is ubiquitous with reality, and even beyond that, simply ubiquitous
with numbers, just as 2 +2 = 4, my power would as well be a universal truth
that is justified with pure math simply so that in any event that a single
quantity exists I am omnipotent. That one quantity implicates countability and
thus infinity and subsequently spawns pure math from which I am summoned as an
unquestionable force that dominates existence.” Says Stacy
“Ok… well, I don’t see pure math
dominating anything to be honest. I kind of like the topic though, better than
the usual.” Says Stella
“Well, physics is the brood-cancer of
pure math, so any progeny of mathematics would fall under my domain.” Says
Stacy
“Pure math doesn’t have any power
though, 2 +2 = 4, no amount of power could change this without breaking the
entirety of existence, if you were a force that was supposedly empowered by
pure math you wouldn’t have any power because there is no way your whims could
change anything, math is just facts.” Says Stella
“I could sway the layers of the onions
of existence with the classics. I wouldn’t be pure math; I would be the god of
math, so to say. Pure math would be my heaven, in a sense, and I would tempt
those who exist by allowing them to stray from the true purity of math and
corrupt them as I see fit, or more likely simply as mathematical standards
determine. If the twelve dimensional answer is 2 to the twelfth, you can stray
a fraction above or below the dimensional quantity in one to twelve of the
dimensions and end up in an extremely high number of possible places that only
increases the more you stray from purity. I think it would be pleasant to ghost
about watching people and the people analogues, including human-esque ghosts
suffer in multitudes of dimensions for straying from my light. If the cube or
whatever shape is the most stable form of existence, watching existences suffer
because they attempt to build their existence upon a corrupt foundation of
rhombi, rectangles and trapezoids would be delightful. I am a purist, I
suppose, I’d find a satisfaction in seeing my tastes validated so.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know, Stacy, that’s wild to
say the least. You didn’t technically say you are that entity, so it might not qualify as crazy, but still. Even
you just thinking you are god is more comforting than that, I can understand
virtue, but I can’t say for certain what societal stability and the analogous
morality based on pure mathematics would look like.” Says Stella
“It would be cold, heartless,
mechanical, and rational per ratio as opposed to rational as defined by mutual
sycophantism, shameless humanism, and paranoid self-preservation.” Says Stacy
“So probably a pretty terrible time, at
least god supposedly cares about people in some sense of the word.” Says Stella
“I care about people, I would much
rather my flea circus be remarkable, refined, and exquisite than some shameless
shit-show.” Says Stacy
“That’s a remarkable amount of
compassion to say the least, a modern day saint without a doubt.” Says Stella,
serving Stacy the food
“You’re the saint, Stella, feeding me
and what not. God was always wrathful, vengeant, and vehemently scornful of
mankind. The saints do good things, but man on the whole is evil, so god tends
to be more wrathful than benevolent.” Says Stacy
“Just not too much, ok? I don’t want
you to get carried away, in more ways than one, no doubt.” Says Stella, sitting
down herself to eat
“I’m fond of moderation; I wouldn’t
want to spoil the sinners with too much hand holding now. If you’re teaching
your child to ride a bike, you’ve got to let them fall down a few times so they
learn that they would rather refrain from doing so by riding the bike
correctly.” Says Stacy
“You should teach a class on
parenting.” Says Stella
“I think children raised by me would be
an interesting exhibit, nature vs nurture I suppose.” Says Stacy
“I think most children would just look
at you dumbfounded. Lord knows what it would take for them to develop your
thought processes.” Says Stella
“That’s the sad truth, not every mind
is prone to such wit, charm, and elegance.” Says Stacy
“Stacy: charming and elegant. That’s
how I’ll describe you from now on; I hope you like to keep up appearances.”
Jokes Stella
“What about the wit?” asks Stacy
“I think unleashing your rapier wit on
unsuspecting people might cause them to bleed to death. It would be hard to
find many people who could laugh maniacally alongside you as your cynicism
brutalizes all of humanity.” Says Stella
“I don’t know. I’m not all that funny.
Humanity is a joke, but it’s not a funny joke. It’s a pitiful excuse for
intelligent life, a mockery at best. Lower than low comedy, if they would just
run around naked, smear shit on themselves, and beat each other senseless like
the wild man did, I wouldn’t be so appalled, but contemporary man is far more
sickening, so stricken by vice as he is.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got your vices too, Stacy.” Says Stella
“I acknowledge that. That is not the
point. The point is that there are two crippled people in wheelchairs sitting
across from each other, I am one of them, and I say ‘I am a cripple.’ while the
other one, humanity, says ‘I can run for miles, jump high into the sky, and
dance like none other. I love having functional legs; it feels amazing, I am so
proud of my functional legs.’ “says Stacy
“I can see your point. I doubt you can
convince too many others of that though, if people were prone to acknowledging
such things more people would go to church.” Says Stella
“I’m not even asking for repentance,
just an acknowledgement of a fact.” Says Stacy
“It’s bad PR, since image is everything
it doesn’t really matter who the people are so long as they can convince you
they’re quality. The FDA may monitor food for adulterants and pollutants, but
sadly there is no similar authority for mankind. Thankfully the FDA actually
does things, seeing how if the FDA worked like the legal system, they would
just acknowledge that some poisoned formula killed a baby after the fact and do
nothing to prevent that from happening.” Says Stella
“Freedom does little but fuel vice,
misdeeds, and mistakes. Much like how a drunkard feels good when he is drunk,
but is stricken by vice, misdeeds, and mistakes, yet the second you take the
liquor away from him he becomes indignant and angry. Free humans are sick from
the poison, and lest there is a careful rehabilitation and subsequent
abstinence, they will either die from the poison or die from the tremens.” Says
Stacy
“It’s not all bad; at least you’re free
to have those opinions. You could get persecuted if you weren’t so free.” Says
Stella
“I’m sure plenty of people would
persecute me, but that’s beside the point. Freedom can be tolerable in healthy
moderation, but that’s like expecting a heroin addict to practice healthy
moderation and only use heroin to treat pain in accordance with a doctor’s
prescription. It’s damn near impossible.” Says Stacy
“How do you intend to resolve this
issue, O despot? Clearly the people will revolt if you take their freedom.”
Jokes Stella
“I kill them with it. I force so much
freedom into their veins that it kills them. The few that survive will be
begging for an end to such torture, and then we can have a nice pleasant life
free from that sickening poison.” Says Stacy
“That might just get you elected
president. Just leave out the second part and euphemize the dying.” Says Stella
“I’ll try to polish that pretty. It is
quality, I’ll give you that.” Says Stacy
“Thanks, I guess. I’ll wash up and we
can get ready for school. It’s about that time.” Says Stella, getting up to
wash the dishes
“I think you’ve got plenty of potential
to mastermind these schemes with me, if you open yourself up to the
possibility.” Says Stacy
“I tend to try and dismantle your
schemes, seeing how poorly they would go for everybody involved. Thankfully I’m
pretty sure the world would just regard you as a lunatic and brush you aside if
you ever started attempting to rally people. It’s easier to defend you like
that than it would be if you ended up accomplishing those things.” Says Stella
“You don’t have the luxury of hearing
me out the way the people would. I’m cut and dry and directly to the point with
you. The common man wouldn’t have a damn clue what my intentions were if I were
actually rallying him, even if somebody tried to tell them, I could easily
demonize the allegations as some conspiracy. Wining people over with politics
is all about persuasion; it has nothing to with policy.” Says Stacy
“Why don’t you try that on me? I’m sure
you wouldn’t get far.” Says Stella
“It’s probably too late to indoctrinate
you, seeing how you are so familiar with my intentions. It would be hard to
make you cast aside my honesty in favor of believing lies. Besides, I wouldn’t
do that to you, it’s shameless enough to indoctrinate common men and turn them
into zealots that fight to the death in exchange for stoking their delusion, I
would be ashamed of myself if I tried to do that to you.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to get practice somewhere
if you want to be good at it, you’re plenty good at ranting, but you’ve never
quite had a knack for convincing me of anything.” Says Stella
“You’re too stubborn, you’re too intelligent, you’re not indignant enough,
you’re contented with society: you make a poor candidate to start with.” Says
Stacy
“I’m glad I’m a poor candidate for
indoctrination.” Says Stella
“I’m just glad very few people meet
those criteria. Although I’m sure the world would be a much different place if
that weren’t the case.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure the vast majority of
people are nowhere near as susceptible to indoctrination as you think.” Says
Stella
“Nonsense. Society wouldn’t function if
the peasants weren’t so happily indoctrinated by Babylon. They settle for the
short end of the stick every day of their lives because they’re told it’s a
blessing to live in this country and everything is damn near perfect and they
believe that crock of shit even though it couldn’t be farther from the truth.”
Says Stacy
“It’s a pretty big end of the stick,
from my perspective. This is a great country, I’d rather live here than in the
majority of the other countries around the world. Let’s go.” Says Stella,
heading upstairs
“It’s a big end of the stick Babylon
uses to wipe it’s ass with. They get the clean part; we get the part covered in
shit. It’s not even that big, it’s easily as small as it can possibly be while
still being big enough to prevent riots due to the growing cancer of American
indignation.” Says Stacy, following her
“If it’s covered in shit why do you
even care how much of the stick you get?” asks Stella
“I don’t want any part of that stick;
I’m not some fucking savage interested in a stick for Christ’s sake.” Says
Stacy
“Well what is it you want then if it’s
not the stick?” asks Stella, as they enter the room
“I simply seek to exchange the stick
for a whip; those who seek to grab any part of the whip are fools that cause
their hands to bleed. Motivating people to work by granting them the privilege
of holding onto some small portion of a stick is a ridiculous concept.” Says
Stacy
“I’m sure you know this, but the stick
is an allegory, it’s just things, whatever, that people want. People wanted
sticks for some reason so that became the allegory for sharing.” Says Stella
“It’s just a poor motivational tool,
people will always be indignant about how much of the stick they get. Hell,
even the rich people and the government are indignant about how much of the
stick they get. Allegories are powerful because reality mirrors them to some
extent; the man who drives oxen does not do so by convincing the beasts that he
will share a stick with them at the end of the day. He whips the beasts and
they work for him, just because mankind is stupid enough to do labor in
exchange for some portion of a stick, even if it is for an allegorical fire of
comfort, does not mean that is the ideal motivational device when a whip is far
more reliable. Humans, like all beasts, seek to preserve their safety and their
comfort far more instinctively than they will seek luxuries or the other
temptations that tend to do a mediocre job of convincing Americans to work
tirelessly and without question.” Says Stacy
“Maybe there is a solution that isn’t
whipping people. Try to think of one of them.” Says Stella
“The only viable allegorical solution
would be the industrial revolution, where oxen are replaced with machines so
instead of being beasts of burden cattle become largely raised for food, but of
course that doesn’t work for the developing world that can’t afford the luxury
of replacing mankind with machines. Replacing humans with machines is still
farfetched, so they are saved the misery of being beasts raised solely for meat
and milk. Besides, I would rather be responsible with my money, until the day
comes that it is cheaper to replace the slave labor with machines then you know
for damn sure I will be cracking that whip.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad that machines already do much
of the work people once did, that idea would be far more hellish otherwise.”
Says Stella
“That’s but a brief respite. Metal does
not grow on trees, but people do, thankfully.” Says Stacy
“Last I checked people didn’t quite
grow on trees.” Says Stella
“Well, trees grow out of dead people,
and people grow out of the fruits of trees, it’s a bit of a process, but it is
easier to recycle people than metal. One day all of the metal will be expended
or unsalvageable but the fresh dirt made of stale people will still be plenty
fertile.” Says Stacy
“That’s charming. I’m glad you’re a fan
of recycling.” Says Stella, dryly
“I’m not going to look a gift horse in
the mouth, the people may be worthless, but their corpses aren’t.” says Stacy
“Go brush your teeth. That might be the
only thing capable of getting you to stop talking.” Says Stella
“You can’t forget about food.” Jokes
Stacy
“It’s a long time till lunch.” Says
Stella
“Woe is me.” Says Stacy, as the girls
go to brush their teeth and return
“That was eerily tranquil; so calming,
peaceful, and quiet.” Says Stella
“I should learn to talk in a similar
fashion, lull people into a nice dream with my calming words.” Says Stacy
“That would be something; I might end
up agreeing with you if you manage to pull that off.” Says Stella
“Even if you don’t I’m glad you listen
to me, it might be painful or something but I appreciate the company, you know.
Two heads are better than one.” Says Stacy
“I honestly appreciate the company too,
as much as I may seem put-off by the things you say, I still like to hear you
talk. Silence would quickly become painful given my mind, so you are doing me a
huge favor by talking incessantly.” Says Stella
“I’m glad my talking pleases you, you
know it’s my pleasure to please you.” Says Stacy
“As long as it’s not the only thing you
do to please me, you know I’m hard to please.” Says Stella, smirking
“I’ve got plenty of cards up my
sleeve.” Says Stacy, grabbing Stella by the hips and staring at her boldy,
Stella rolls her eyes playfully but is more than pleased, wrapping her arms
around Stacy’s waist
“Regardless of how bad you make me feel
sometimes, you still manage to make me feel better than I ever have in my
entire life.” Says Stella, a bit bashful
“I hope I can keep on doing that.” Says
Stacy, kissing Stella lightly, staring into her eyes and smiling
“I don’t know if that was the best
yet.” Says Stella, playfully, kissing Stacy with far more enthusiasm, which
Stacy happily returns, feeling challenged if nothing else. The embrace moves up
the back and Stella holds Stacy’s head as to prevent her from surrendering her
conquest, Stella’s passions are stoked by Stacy’s unflinching desire based
loosely around a vehement albeit playful pride at this point. Stacy’s desire to
please Stella truly rooted in an unprecedented sympathetic compassion unearthed
by the recent chaos, but the true pleasure she found was in using her fingers,
lips, and tongue to sculpt her previously unfathomable masterpiece: a happy
Stella.
“How was that?” asks Stacy, with
delusional pride about having satisfied Stella
“You know I want more.” Says Stella,
hungrily, moving her hand under Stacy’s skirt and groping her ass
“Tonight, you.” Says Stacy, ominously
bold
“God damn it, Stacy. Every part of my
body wants you right now, it’s fucking torture.” Says Stella, staring viciously
into Stacy’s eyes
“It doesn’t have to be.” Says Stacy
slyly navigating her hand under Stella’s skirt and into her panties, her long
finger the steady pleasurable breeze across a river valley, Stella’s mouth
seeks to sustain her life, devouring Stacy uncontrollably like a nearly drowned
man brought to the surface, Stacy’s mouth and fingers return the passion,
escalating their fervor haughtily
“Oh my god.” Gasps Stella, flinching
away and beginning to pant lightly holding Stacy firmly
“You know I don’t mind being a little
late to school.” Says Stacy, playfully
“I want to bite you Stacy, god damn it.
You kind of ruined it. Let’s go to school.” Says Stella, upset, torn between
leaving her pleasure or responsibility behind
“You sure?” asks Stacy, playfully,
stopping her fingers
“No. Just a bit more. Please.” Says
Stella, grabbing Stacy’s arm and preventing it from withdrawing rubbing herself
against it forcefully, kissing Stacy with even more hunger; Stacy takes this as
a sign and slips her a couple of fingers
“God damn it. Too much. I’ve we’ve got
to stop while I still have some sense left in me.” Says Stella, pulling Stacy’s
hand away which indifferently obliges
“You sure you had enough?” asks Stacy,
cocksure and intent on skipping school
“I’ve got to save the rest for later.
Go wash your hands and lets go.” Says Stella, breathing a bit heavy, looking
Stacy in the eyes a bit wild in her own which beamed of her pleasure
“Always the spoil sport.” Says Stacy, a
bit let down
“Blame school, not me. You don’t know
how bad I want it.” Says Stella, savoring the glass of clean satisfaction
surrounded by an ocean of insatiability
“Yet you still want to go to school?”
asks Stacy
“I don’t want to, but I have to, and
shirking responsibility is a terrible feeling. Just go wash up; I don’t want to
be late.” Says Stella
“Fine.” Says Stacy
“You’re going to finish this tonight.”
informs Stella
“I don’t know if it’s possible, but
I’ll see what I can do.” Says Stacy, walking away to the bathroom
“Good.” Says Stella
Stacy returns and the girls grab their
things
“I’m going to be honest, I feel a lot
better after that. Like a glass of water when you’re thirsty.” Says Stella
“I hope you had enough to make it
through the day, I’d hate for you to collapse out of dehydration.” jokes Stacy,
half serious
“8 glasses a day, wasn’t it?” jokes
Stella
“I think that might be hard to
accomplish.” Says Stacy, a bit concerned with the expectations
“We’ll figure it out.” Says Stella,
quite sure of herself, the girls exit the room and head downstairs
“Dad, we’re going to school, I hope you
can find something to eat, I didn’t want to wake you since I was just cooking
eggs and figured you could do that yourself if you got hungry.” Says Stella
“I’ll be fine. We’ve got enough Poverty
Bars to survive the apocalypse.” Says Dale
“Why do you eat those? Don’t call them
that anyways, if you eat them I wouldn’t make it sound any more undesirable
than it already is.” Says Stella
“It sounds better than Federal
Nutrition bar, I think. All I know is three of them a day keeps you plenty
alive, so I’ll go for two if I’ve not had anything else. I’m not so sure I’m in
the mood to be plenty alive, just mildly alive is enough.” Says Dale
“They are subsidized and designed for
people like you, so I can’t blame you for eating them. I don’t know what they
put in there to get 600 calories in a nutrition bar, but even I’m not a fan,
and I’ll eat damn near anything. They’ve got no taste; maybe the taste of paper
and you’ve got to chew for such a long time to even swallow that stuff.” Says Stacy
“I’m just glad they realized they could
prevent malnourishment by giving poor and disabled people shamelessly
convenient food, I hear it’s done wonders for neglected children.” Says Stella
“Everybody gets to enjoy them, just
like space ice cream, it’s not just for astronauts anymore.” Says Dale
“I don’t know if anybody can actually
enjoy them. I don’t know how hungry I’d have to be to enjoy one of those. Maybe
lost in the wilderness for a few days, but once you know the taste of real food
it’s hard to convince yourself to eat one of those things.” Says Stacy
“I’ve never been big on taste anyways;
too much food will make me feel sick anyways. I like to just have a bite every
now and again to keep me afloat, kind of like chewing gum to me, no real taste
but plenty of people love chewing anyways.” Says Dale
“I’m glad you don’t mind them, they are
healthy for you at the very least. I’ll try to fix something for dinner
tonight. We’ll be home later, be good.” Says Stella
“I’ll be good; you don’t have to tell
me twice. You two wouldn’t be angels if I wasn’t at least halfway decent.” Says
Dale
“You’re at the very least all the way
decent, easily well beyond that point. Take care of yourself now. Don’t die.”
Says Stacy
“It’s not on the agenda, and I tend to
follow my incredibly tight schedule to the t.” says Dale
“That’s good. See you later.” Says
Stacy
“Bye Dad.” Says Stella
“You two enjoy yourselves, I’m proud of
you for going to school so often.” Says Dale
“Thanks, dad; that means a lot to me.”
Says Stacy
“I guess I’m proud of Stacy, but I
expect that much from myself at the very least.” Says Stella
“I’m sure you’re proud deep down in
there somewhere.” Says Stacy
“It’s ok to be proud of yourself; I
know a lot of people who didn’t go to school as well as you two. It takes real
character to be so pragmatic.” Says Dale
“Thanks, I guess I should allow myself
to be proud of my pragmatism. I would be less proud if we were late today, so
let’s go, Stacy.” Says Stella
“Humility is a virtue.” Jokes Stacy
“So is Diligence.” Says Stella, walking
out the door, Stacy follows her
The sun shines as it ascends within the
kingdom of heaven unopposed with all of the wholesome enthusiasm of any of the
countless, meaningless, worthless, irrelevant bastards who has the capacity to
smile genuinely out of his own ability to live, toil, and struggle without
acknowledging any of the overlying tragedies of these things due to his own
blindness to the reality that lies before his very eyes. The smile was a
forcefully violently wholesome smile, the smile of a cultist that had his one
personality tortured mercilessly by the proponents of the mass-produced ideal
personality concocted and crafted by corporate capitalist idealists who’s only
ideals happened to be profiting and were merrily indifferent to the collateral
damage of aggressively conditioning their employees to brutalize any thought
processes that did not fall into line with whichever personality was deemed
ideal, had its mold cast time and time again, and was subsequently send out
factory-fresh to the men and women who put their minds in this mold and allow
their fear to stomp their minds remorselessly until they could not question the
artificial shape their mind had taken because they were not conditioned to do
so.
This was not the sun, however. The sun is
no mere nine to five mortal. The sun is a dawn to dusk salaried employee, his
smile is vicious, that of a depraved lunatic who thirsts for money in the same
way a vampire thirsts for blood. The sun stands over the remnants of its
personality, depersonalized to say the least, having had its hands cut off, its
eyes gouged out, its tongue cut off, and its face skinned, drenched in its own
blood all while the new authority of personality keeps the poor bastard alive
for the sick pleasure of enjoying the ceremonial changing of the guard by shoving
a broom handle into the throat of the dying man to choke prod him into
suffering that tidily-wink more yet being a tad upset that their fun with the
once humanoid now garbage lying on the floor would be over when he stops
writhing in agony; for all things must come to an end, including their fun, and
even the appropriately fun song that plays on a situationally classy radio in
the background: Funkytown by Lipps Inc.
The girls prance on their merry way
oblivious if not indifferent to the suffering in the sky.
“You know I thought about what you said
yesterday. If you really don’t like your friends or whatever you can sit with
the girls and I at lunch.” Says Stacy
“I’d rather not listen to you
premeditate your next murder, it would easily ruin my appetite. It’s not that I
dislike the girls, it’s just that our combined social ineptitude makes it a bit
tiresome, I’m rather quiet so long as you’re not running your mouth, you know.”
Says Stella
“I’m just saying the offer is on the
table, you know you’ve got friends with us at least.” Says Stacy
“My girls and I are friends as much as
we can be. We’re like three draftees thrown into war fighting loserdom; we’ve
got our battle scars and war stories. We may be a bit shell-shocked, holding
our broken and battered naïve innocence, but it’s a bonding experience. I’m
sure it would be painful for them if I left them, one step closer to the
crushing painful aloneness of isolation, I know it would be for me without
them.” Says Stella
“That’s
noble, to say the least.” Says Stacy
“I’m
a noble girl, I suppose.” Says Stella
“Regal.”
Says Stacy
“I
do my best. It’s hard, but it’s worth it, to actually feel like a decent
person. You should try sometime.” Jokes Stella
“I
would be concerned if the way I feel about myself had any correlation with reality.
I’m not going to base the predominant psychological experience of my life off
of some painfully distressing cruel and torturous meaningless nonsense; I’m
going to base it off of pleasurably relaxing benevolent and comforting meaningless
nonsense.” Says Stacy
“That
seems to work out pretty well for you, I’m glad you don’t have any trouble
finding that nonsense. I’d hate to see you be forced to resort to using reality
to determine how you feel, seeing how the results are much less preferable.”
Says Stella
“It
baffles me how people condition themselves to do such a thing in the first
place. I figured everybody would avoid that at all costs seeing how undesirable
it is to do so.” Says Stacy
“Trust
me, they try. They’re just not as good at it as you are. That’s why people turn
to drugs and alcohol, so they can escape from reality.” Says Stella
“I
guess I’m just a modern day mental Houdini, seeing how easy it is for me to
escape.” Says Stacy
“I
guarantee you anyone who notices that is truly awestruck by the spectacle.”
Says Stella
“It’s
a lovely show, wholesome fun for the whole family.” Says Stacy
“It’s
amazing how your interpretation of your personality is the literal antithesis
of how a normal person would interpret it.” Says Stella
“I’m
certainly not going to allow the wretched ignorance of some boor sully the
reputation of such immaculate tastefulness simply because his tastes are such
that he prefers to eat the dirt that he farms instead of ambrosia.” Says Stacy
“If
I were to describe you in two words, it would easily be immaculate
tastefulness.” Jokes Stella
“I’m
glad you are cultured and can understand and appreciate such a fine delicacy.”
Says Stacy
“I
don’t know if it’s truly a culture if it consists of exclusively yourself, but I’ll
give myself credit, it is damn near a foreign experience.” Says Stella
“The
embodiment of worldliness.” Says Stacy
“Plenty
of your ideas do not seem to be from this world, but I’ll leave it at that.”
Says Stella
“Nothing
on this planet was of this world until it was spontaneously created or mutated
out of a previous mutation in order to exist in its current form.” Says Stacy
“I
would hate to see the chain of mutations that leads to your ideology.” Says
Stella
“It’s
a beautiful display of contortionism, French art to say the least.” Says Stacy
“Of
course. That’s what it is.” Says Stella
The
girls steadily approach the gates of the pens housing girls long since weaned
from the ignorance of childhood who are now force-fed highly processed refined
genetically modified intelligence ripe with flavorful artificial preservatives,
flavors, and colors. The fatty masses inside of their skulls are slowly
bleached and enriched to make their warm-corpses rotting with life suitable for
steady living-decomposition within the organic-waste compost bins such as lowly
office complexes and skyscrapers alike. Paperwork doesn’t quite push itself out
of the ground as well if the fields aren’t fertile.
The girls enter the gates of something,
a matter of taste determines if it is hell or heaven or simply Heaven’s Gate
“I’ll let you get some rest from me so
you can chase the dragon.” Says Stacy
“You’re the dragon, Stacy. This is me
going to work so I can still respect myself when I’m chasing said dragon.” Says
Stella
“Taking after dear old dad, I see.
Functional as ever.” Says Stacy
“I guess it runs in the family. I’ll
see you later.” Says Stacy
“Ta ta.” Says Stacy, the girls head
their separate ways to their classes
Stacy walks into her class, Jenna
staring at her desk, doing a dandy job hiding the fear that consumes her.
“Morning, Jenna.” Says Stacy,
nonchalant a bit curious as to Jenna’s disposition
“Morning, Stacy.” Says Jenna, with a
distant dissociate fear a pinch of anger
“I see you’re not in the mood for
school today.” Says Stacy
“It’s not that. You know it’s not
that.” Says Jenna
“I guess you tend to love school. I
probably shouldn’t pry; hope you feel better about whatever’s bothering you.”
Says Stacy, precautiously offhanded
“Jesus. Stacy, did you look at the
front page of the paper today?” asks Jenna
“I don’t get a paper.” Says Stacy
“It was pretty brutal, it was a picture
of these 5 priests who got killed, they were all sitting in their chairs just
dead, it was like a hitman kind of thing.” Says Rachel
“Yikes.” Says Stacy, failing to feign
any sort of concern
“That wasn’t even the bad part. There
was…” says Rachel
“Shut up. Jesus. Be quiet. I am trying
to forget that stuff, you’re not helping.” Says Jenna, quite upset
“I mean it wasn’t that bad, the real
horror story was in the article.” Says Rachel
“That stuff is just hard for me to
stomach.” Says Jenna
“That stuff is like nothing to the
pictures of war crimes and stuff from the 20th century. Have you
never seen those?” asks Rachel
“Maybe some, those were also awful, but
those didn’t happen yesterday in our own city. That stuff just hits close to
home. Please, stop talking about it.” Says Jenna
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I read the
article and they found a bunch of children locked up in the basement that were
being abused and stuff so it’s kind of like justice. You’re not like super
religious and upset by that part, the church doing bad things, are you?” asks
Rachel
“No. Just stop, I don’t want to hear
about that stuff. The picture was bad enough.” Says Jenna, aggressively passive
“Sorry.” Says Rachel
“What do you think about it, Stacy,
good news or bad news?” asks Rachel
“I don’t know, it’s both I guess, in a
sense.” Says Stacy
“I’m not catholic so I think it’s great
news. Those guys were sick.” Says Rachel
“I’d just let Jenna come to terms with
this, I didn’t see the picture so I don’t really know how bad it was.” Says
Stacy
“It was definitely front page worthy;
I’ll let you pick up a copy yourself if you want to see it. I’m not trying to
upset Jenna. Sorry about that.” Says Rachel, sympathetic to the victim of her
own excitement
“I’ll pass. I couldn’t care less to be
honest, if I wanted to read about that kind of stuff I would subscribe to the
paper. Sounds like a normal day in Bay City to me.” Says Stacy
“You’re twisted, Stacy. It really was
worse than normal, I read the paper, usually it’s like small time guys or
random killings of low level criminals,
even worse just business crimes, these guys were like the heads of the
church. It’s a real scandal.” Says Rachel
“Quaint. I’m going to take my seat, I
feel like I’m not helping Jenna come to terms with this by carrying on the
conversation.” Says Stacy
“Thank you.” Says Jenna, holding her
head in her hands, frustrated
“I’ve got plenty of details if you want
to hear more about it.” Says Rachel
“I’ll pass. Not my cup of tea.” Says
Stacy, going to her seat
“Hey Stacy…” says Ophelia timidly
“Whats up?” asks Stacy
“Like, my dad saw the paper this
morning, and he started crying. He even cursed which he never does. It was like
really bad. He threw it away and told me it was ‘very sad news’ and that I
don’t want to know what it was about. It was kind of scary. I’m sure you know
what happened, was it really that bad?” asks Ophelia
“It’s a matter of perspective, but take
his advice, ok? I don’t want you to be upset about it.” Says Stacy
“So only some people think it’s bad or
something?” asks Ophelia
“Yeah, kind of. It’s extra sad for some
people, and it looks bad, but it’s good that it happened. If you do find out
about it, I would just avoid the topic as much as possible.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure I will, I don’t want to hear
about that kind of stuff, whatever can make my dad cry has to be terrible.”
Says Ophelia
“Just remember the difference between
good people and bad people and you should be able to understand why it happened
and hopefully be ok with it. When and if somebody brings it up to you.” Says
Stacy
“Why was my dad was crying if it was
something good or stopping bad people?” Says Ophelia
“It was just sad, very sad. Bad people
do bad things and it is sad that it happens.” Says Stacy
“It was that sad?” asks Ophelia
“To some people, yes. Just leave it
alone. I don’t want to talk about it, at least not now.” Says Stacy
“Ok. I’m even more confused but I still
don’t really want to know.” Says Ophelia
The teacher enters the room and stands
in front of the class to address them.
“I know most of you are Catholic, but remember
that we are not technically a Catholic school. Remember that our focus is still
on the caliber of our academics regardless of our history as a part of the
Catholic community. We will be conducting classes as normal today, so please be
aware of that. Remember that there are councilors available if you are
struggling with anything, even if it is not your faith, you can still get
help.” Says the teacher, she walks over to Jenna, who is still staring at her
desk and puts a hand on her shoulder
“You know you can talk to somebody
about this. I don’t want to see you like this. I can give you today’s notes, so
don’t think twice about missing class. I want you to feel better. I know this
must be hard.” whispers the teacher with genuine care and concern
“I know. Thank you. I’ll be ok. I’m
just shocked, but I will be fine. Just start the lesson, it will help me
forget.” Says Jenna
“I am as shocked as you are. I know it
must be hard on your faith. Remember that we are here for you.” Says the
teacher
“My faith in god is unwavering. Please,
I will be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Says Jenna, her relative absence of
faith truly unchanged
“You say that, but you don’t look
fine.” Says the teacher
“Am I really the only one who is upset
about this?” asks Jenna
“I think everybody handled the news
differently. It seemed to hurt you the most of everyone here.” Says the teacher,
looking around, the class
“I am sorry. This is embarrassing. I am
fine. Please, I want to learn.” Says Jenna, looking up at the teacher having
thoroughly repressed her feelings, smiling slightly with a bit of delirium
“Eager as ever. Hopefully it will make
you feel better.” Says the teacher, wholesomely, smiling and touched by Jenna’s
true dedication to her studies
“Thank you. It truly will.” Says Jenna,
breathing a sigh of relief
The old woman sits on a park bench in
clothes as old and tired as she is, deeply saddened by the world around her,
but happy with her company as she throws seeds to feed a flock of pigeons that
knows her all too well. The pigeons amble and peck at the seeds, cooing
occasionally when the lady addresses the only children she has that have time
to spend with her. One crow happens to be amongst the flock, gratefully eating
the seeds it could find, staring at the woman with dry crow tears in its eyes,
dying from the malnourishing diet of scraps the city leaves for such birds. The
crow is bewildered by its appreciation of such a caring soul. The woman
eventually calls to her flock but receives no answer to her question; she locks
eyes with the crow, unusually uneasy at the sight of the bird, who relishes in
answering her question with a merry caw. A stray gunshot eventually scares the
birds away, who soon find another kind soul willing to feed them as they
recongregate instinctively in the same rather mindless manner. One last inner
city homicide scatters the birds, who join the ranks of the other unemployed in
the healthy line for to be served by the local soup kitchen, cooing and cawing,
tweeting and chirping as they enjoy each other’s company. A lone crow, a
seagull, and a hen find comradery in their shared oddness amongst the pigeons,
starlings, and sparrows borne of the city.
“You look kind of upset, Jenna, was it
whatever happened?” asks Ophelia
“Of course it is. It is distressing to
say the least. I don’t want to talk about it, especially if you don’t know.”
Says Jenna
“So it was really bad?” asks Ophelia
“Yes.” Says Jenna
“Let’s just let it blow over, like any
other day in the city.” Says Stacy
“Jesus, Stacy. How can you act like
this? I just saw the picture and I am like this. You… are you, and you just
keep calm and carry on like nothing happened. You… painting in living color…
how?” asks Jenna
“I think it’s called empathy or
something, feeling the people suffering, seeking justice, you know how vividly
I can feel bad things, really know them. When you know that pain, it is not
hard to act the way I do.” Says Stacy, doing her best to beat around the bush
“It’s like that sort of stuff doesn’t
bother you at all, it doesn’t make sense.” Says Jenna
“It just feels more right than wrong.
It doesn’t feel wrong at all.” Says Stacy
“All of it? All of it feels right?”
asks Jenna
“The means to an end feel right if the
end feels right. The end justifies the means so to speak.” Says Stacy
“The… painting part. Is what I am
talking about.” Says Jenna
“Pilate washes his hands. I simply do
the same. Fate is not something I can control.” Says Stacy
“I am slapping the table Stacy, I am
making this decision consciously and do it, I am controlling this. Do you
understand that?” Says Jenna, upset, slapping the table
“A wolf cannot change his fate that he
must hunt to survive. The prey that is foolish enough to present itself as the
most accessible meal is the one to blame for its own death, not the instinct of
the wolf.” Says Stacy
“That doesn’t cover the painting part,
Stacy.” Says Jenna
“That was part of the meal, a bear is
omnivorous, is he not?” asks Stacy
“Fine. Jesus. I don’t want to talk
about it.” Says Jenna
“Another day another dime, it’s just
life in the city. A man’s got to eat, does he not? We are no different.” Says
Stacy
“I’m totally lost, but Stacy kind of
told me about it. Some people are sad or upset and other people think its good
news. Whatever it is, I don’t want to know, I’m pretty sensitive to sad stuff.”
Says Ophelia
“I hope it isn’t hard for you to
understand, you either defend the will of god or you defend wicked men. It is
not a hard decision.” Says Stacy
“Of course I defend the will of God.
Jenna, did you really choose the other one?” asks Ophelia
“No. I’m not defending the men; it’s
just upsetting what happened is all. Just forget about it.” Says Jenna
“When the time comes, just know that
god punishes sinners and you will know who the good people are. You know what a
wolf in sheep’s clothing is, right?” asks Stacy
“Of course.” Says Ophelia
“Good. Just don’t let the sheep’s
clothing fool you.” Says Stacy
“I won’t. They did expose the wolf or
whatever, right? It might be a really good disguise and I don’t really know if
I could tell. I know that means people who lie about stuff to look innocent,
but it’s hard to tell if they are lying sometimes.” says Ophelia
“Yes, the wolf has been exposed. It
won’t be hard. Let’s just drop it. I have faith you will be able to handle the
news, when and if that time comes.” Says Stacy
“I am going to say something. Ophelia.
You remember last Saturday night right?” asks Jenna
“Yeah…” says Ophelia timidly
“You remember how we weren’t there, and
we weren’t a part of the scary bad stuff that happened?” asks Jenna
“What?” asks Ophelia
“Those scary things happened to the
witches, we were sleeping at Stacy’s house and nothing out of the ordinary
happened, remember?” asks Jenna
“Oh, yeah. Of course. I know what you
are saying. Because we’re totally not
witches, you know.” Says Ophelia, attempting to play along
“Good. Please, for Christ’s sake,
always remember that. Remember the difference between us right here and the
witches.” Says Jenna
“I will. I don’t know why you think I
would forget. I’m the one who taught you two that part, remember?” asks Ophelia
“Yes. I’m just reminding you how
important it is.” Says Jenna
“I know. I don’t want anyone to know
about that stuff, especially after Saturday and everything.” Says Ophelia
“Good.” Says Jenna
“She’s right, it is important.” Says
Stacy
“I know. I don’t want anything bad to
happen to us either.” Says Ophelia
“As long as we are all aware of the
danger that being exposed would pose, we should be fine. Let’s just leave it
be, no point in living in the past, eh?” asks Stacy, growing lighthearted
“Forgive and forget, something like
that, right?” asks Jenna
“That sounds about right.” Says Stacy
“You don’t really need to forgive Stacy
if she did the right thing, you know.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll try to remember that.” Says Jenna,
distantly
A brief period of silence follows.
“So, who wants to stoke me into
ranting?” jokes Stacy, lightheartedly
“Please, no. Just be quiet Stacy.” Says
Jenna, still upset
“So, you are seeking to see somebody
attempt to accomplish the impossible, eh?” asks Stacy
“Do your best. I need to get to animal
club and bury my head in my books for a long time. Try to cleanse my mind and
what not.” Says Jenna
“Can we talk about animals or something
then? To get in the mood.” Says Ophelia
“Sure.” Says Jenna, distantly
indifferent
“Ok. So, who’s seen a cute animal and
what kind was it? I saw this cute puppy on the way to school. He was super cute
and fluffy, it was called a miniature German Spitz and I just melted when I saw
him. His owner even let me pet him. It was so awesome; he was such a nice dog
too.” Says Ophelia
“I saw some birds, are birds cute?”
asks Stacy
“Of course they are. Did they sing you
a nice song when you walked by?” asks Ophelia
“A nice tweet and a chirp I suppose. I
doubt it was for me though.” Says Stacy
“Of course it was, the bird was happy
to see you.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not sure feral birds behave like
dogs, but I’ll take it.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure it wanted you to sing a song
back to it. Birds love songs.” Says Ophelia
“That’s not going to happen. If
anything it was just trying to get my attention in the hopes that I would feed
it.” Says Stacy
“Well, it is fun to feed birds. No cute
dogs or kitties today?” asks Ophelia
“Not in particular, I saw a mean
looking dog; pretty sure it was a Rottweiler.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure he was nice if you would have
given him a chance.” Says Ophelia
“That sort of mentality is why I don’t
trust you to go after guys.” Says Stacy
“What do you mean?” asks Ophelia
“Guys can be more dangerous than dogs,
and if you can’t tell a dangerous dog from a normal dog, I’m sure it would be
even harder for you to judge a man properly.” Says Stacy
“I’ve read that a lot of dogs get bad
reputations, but they can still be good gods if they are trained right.” Says
Ophelia
“They get the bad reputations for a
reason, they are dangerous. I’m not risking my wellbeing by putting my faith in
some random person to have trained a dangerous dog correctly. Just because the
dog doesn’t try to kill them doesn’t mean it won’t jump on you the first chance
it gets. I don’t even like nice dogs doing that, I’m staying far away from ones
that might not be nice.” Says Stacy
“As long as you’re not trying to attack
their owner or scare them I think you don’t have anything to worry about.” Says
Ophelia
“You forget that dogs are basically
weird deformed wolves, they still have the instincts to hunt and kill, I am
smaller then plenty of dogs so they likely just see me as a meal.” Says Stacy
“The food chain is a remarkable thing.”
Says Jenna
“I’m just well aware of my niche;
rabbits don’t survive by befriending wolves.” Says Stacy
“That’s true, but you would still like
a cute small dog, right?” asks Ophelia
“Cute small fangs sinking into my flesh
doesn’t sound very appealing either to be honest.” Says Stacy
“You will come around. Dogs are
amazing.” Says Ophelia
“I’m not so sure about that, I’m not
running out to embrace oncoming traffic, and I doubt that will change any time
soon.” Says Stacy
“You sure about that?” asks Jenna
“I’m dodging cars, but I’ve got to get
to work. It’s not like I’m getting down on a knee with my arms wide open
pretending the cars are my little kid running to see me after a long day’s
work.” Says Stacy
“I can live with that. I hope. I hope
we can all live through that at least, even if we can’t live with ourselves
afterward.” Says Jenna
“If we’re alive, it shouldn’t be hard
to live with ourselves. Means to an end, is it not?” asks Stacy
“Let’s just hope there is an end,
seeing how there is no end in sight as of now.” Says Jenna
“Everybody’s got to work to get paid;
we are the same more or less. Just enjoy what time you can and work to stay
alive like everybody else. Grin and bear it, you know.” Says Stacy
“I’ll do my best. Thinking about it
like that is helpful, it’s not like people can shirk work because they don’t
like it.” Says Jenna
“I think if you can come to terms with
that, it should be easier to go to work and such. It’s not like anybody else is
spared work death, so we shouldn’t think ourselves any different.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure work death isn’t that
common, but if you actually work so hard that you die from a stroke or heart
attack I will be amazed that the good lord decided to take you in such a way.”
Says Jenna
“I’m only working every so often, and I
eat well, by the time I die from work death they will likely write it off as
old age.” Says Stacy
“One can only hope. I see you never
plan on retiring.” Says Jenna
“I don’t think I have the luxury, but I
can’t predict the future.” Says Stacy
“I’ll take a page out of your book and
convince myself that it is a real possibly.” Says Jenna
“You never know, one of the few things
dog magically said something about expectations regarding digging holes, so I
suppose if we get so old that we can’t dig, he won’t expect us to dig.” Says
Stacy
“That is soul crushing, to say the
least.” Says Jenna
“Just think of it like gardening, we
are digging holes and planting a brighter future.” Says Stacy
“I like that. I actually think we can
do really good things if we put our minds to it. We have a gift from God you
know.” Says Ophelia
“I am not in the mood to even think
about that right now, but maybe one day.” Says Jenna
“I’m sure we can, it’s not all about
Stacy doing what she has to, but we should try to do our specialties every now
and again too.” Says Ophelia
“We don’t want to draw attention to
ourselves, so that might be hard to do both, sadly.” Says Jenna
“I guess you’re kind of right, but if
there ever is an opportunity we should try to do something.” Says Ophelia
“Who knows, but let’s just keep the
witch stuff to a minimum for now, maybe you can shoot some of cupid’s arrows
during the next commute. Would that make you feel better?” asks Stacy
“Of course! I will definitely try that.
It’s my job after all. Sometimes your ideas aren’t all that bad, Stacy.” Says
Ophelia, excitedly
“I try my best.” Says Stacy
The second bell rings and the ambivalent
swirling sea of girls twirls and tumbles on their way to their respective clubs
with their airs of commonplace teenage nonchalant indifference flavoring the
air as the girls go to pass time with their elected pastimes. The three walk
into the room with a smile, a straight face, and a still-grim frown as they
take their seats, promptly accompanied by their usual companions who arrive
fashionably present as the bell rings. Aurelia approaches the front of the
class, unusually timid.
“In light of the recent news, I have
been instructed to remind you that councilors are available if you need to talk
to somebody, and now is a good time to see them. Other than that, it is still
supposed to be a normal day, so we will just be doing the usual things.” She
says, her voice trembling a bit, but confident as usual before returning to her
seat and friends.
The usual business ensues, Ophelia’s
concern dulled through the repetitive references to the news which her
conditioning to value her own ignorance above all else induces an absent minded
incredulity as she goes to find a magazine. Jenna opens her schoolbooks and
breathes a sigh of relief. The other three happily idle.
“That’s totally crazy what happened.”
Says Isabelle, a bit unwilling to acknowledge the topic herself
“I’d rather not talk about it. I’m sure
we’ve all heard too much already.” Says Stacy, attempting to avoid the subject
“Yes. Far too much.” Says Jenna
“Are you two like really religious or
something?” asks Isabelle
“No. Jenna’s a bit squeamish, Ophelia
is religious to some extent, and I’m largely just respecting them.” Says Stacy
“I don’t even know what happened to be
honest.” Says Ophelia
“You don’t want to know.” Says Isabelle
“That’s what I’ve been told. I’ll take
your word for it.” Says Ophelia
“It makes me wonder what is happening
at real Catholic schools right now.” Says Grace
“Who knows, I’m sure it’s hell on
earth.” Says Stacy
“Sounds about right.” Says Grace
“What’s wrong with Catholic schools? I
almost went to one for high school, but my parents wanted me to get a good
education.” Says Ophelia
“Nothing really, I just figure they’re
having a hard time explaining such a controversy.” Says Grace
“I keep hearing it’s about something
bad for Catholics, did some priest get arrested or something?” asks Ophelia
“You know what a bishop is right?” asks
Grace
“Not really, I know it’s something. I’m
not that into church, I just know Father Cormac and that’s kind of it, he’s the
only priest I know.” Says Ophelia
“Well, bishops are like the heads of
the church for the whole city…” says Grace
“Don’t tell her; spare her the details,
of all people, please.” Says Jenna
“Well, they just did something really
bad and that got exposed, ok?” says Grace
“I don’t know them, as long as Father
Cormac isn’t in trouble I don’t really care.” Says Ophelia
“He’s fine. Don’t worry about him.”
says Stacy
“That’s good. I heard it was like a
wolf in sheep’s clothing or something bad like that.” Says Ophelia, returning
to her magazine
“Exactly.” Says Isabelle
“All this talk of a subject I have no
interest in is killing me, I need some sort of seed to start ranting, it is physically
painful to avoid talking.” Says Stacy
Isabelle chuckles “I don’t know, you
tend to talk about the same things all the time.” She says
“I guess I have to fish for something.”
Says Stacy
“Crimes?” asks Grace
“Enlighten us about your philosophy on crime.”
Says Isabelle
“Well, that’s a delightful topic. The
root of most crimes is freedom; people only commit crimes because they are free
to do so. It is for this reason I am a strong supporter of a police state.
People who don’t commit crimes have no reason to fear the police, so having a
strict authority in place is nothing but a comfort to reasonable upstanding
people. I feel that once the freedom to commit crimes is restricted, then far
fewer crimes will happen. Another part of the solution is removing the
temptation to commit crimes. If crime doesn’t pay, there will be little
tempting the people to commit crimes, so in order to accomplish this it is the
government’s job to saturate the crime market to the point where it is
impossible for the common man to make money doing so, leaving only the sick
psychopaths and mentally unstable people at risk of committing crimes. People
who commit crimes will be culled by their vices, the wrathful damned to the
bucket of wrath where they are free to live by the sword and die by the sword,
the gluttons drown in a sty full of liquor and drugs, and the lustful force
themselves upon each other and kill each other with their own diseases. Instead
of attempting the futile task of saving people from their afflictions, we simply
let the afflictions usher the fools into hell. The cities of sin solve the
crimes of savagery, which leaves only the civilized crimes to be dealt with.”
Says Stacy
“Ok. What are the civilized crimes if
you covered all of the vices?” asks Isabelle
“The civilized crimes are caused by the
affliction of the mind, which can largely be grouped in with pride. These are
usurpers, idealists, humanists, protestors and other enemies of the state, or
even simply people who resist getting with the program and doing what is
expected of them. These people are collected in work camps and supervised more
closely on account of their antisocial behavior. Corporal punishment is far
more ideal than capital punishment after all, so long as it is profitable, of
course. These fools could not use their privilege of relative freedom
responsibly and thus have had such a privilege relinquished, with their
punishment being the reduction in their comforts and pleasures in life for
seeking to exact the same sadism upon others in the name of folly such as
idealism.” Says Stacy
“That’s all good and well, but how do
you expect to accomplish this? It would take one hell of a lot of police to do
that.” Says Isabelle
“A mechanized workforce, of course.
People are chipped with GPS, and an army of drones flies around able to swoop
in like a falcon and blackjack the idiots who end up becoming uncivil. The
unconscious are then collected and processed accordingly. A message is sent to
people suspected of crimes asking them to detain themselves, and if they
incriminate themselves by running then the drones descend. Automatic doors
communicate with drones and open themselves, and if the suspects hide inside a
helicopter-like drone can go inside and eject a collar like a viper and choke
the man unconscious if he resists, if a man attacks a helicopter, he is shot in
a non-lethal way by a back-up helicopter before handlers can arrive. The vast
majority of people would simply detain themselves knowing that this was their
fate, so I feel the threat alone would be quite cost effective. Once a suspect
can be questioned, the information is gathered and they can be processed if
need be, or the issuer of a false alarm is reprimanded.” Says Stacy
“It will still take plenty of police to
investigate all of the crimes. The human type.” Says Grace
“A wise Brit once saw the future and he
saw that every television was capable of watching the people right back. This
will be the evidence, as history teaches us not to be manipulated by the snake
tongued apes that walk amongst us. The computer revolution is more than capable
of accomplishing this sort of monitoring at this point, so it would be
extraordinarily capable of doing so when it is refined and designed to do
exactly that rather than primarily entertain people. That sort of justice
system is so ideal it is nearly a utopia.” Says Stacy
“And if I don’t like being watched all
the time?” asks Jenna
“You certainly will not be. Nobody will
be. The A/V records will only be accessed in the event of being suspected of a
crime. One needs eyes to watch, and I’ve got far more productive things for
eyes to do rather than searching for needles in a haystack.” Says Stacy
“What about crimes that don’t get
reported, I’m sure people who are upset will work together to do such things.” Says
Grace
“The monitoring will algorithmically
search for phrases hinting at criminality and such red flags will be tended to.
Man should know by now that god is in the machine.” Says Stacy
“That’s not what that means, but ok.”
Says Jenna
“Save for when that is literally what
that means. The all-seeing eye, the force that judges a man and either accepts
him into heaven or casts him into hell. That is the machine, in a healthy
future.” Says Stacy
“You seem to be eager for this society
even though if you’re not in charge you would easily be rounded up for your
crazy beliefs.” Says Isabelle
“That’s a laugh. If they ever do end up
rounding people up, they will round up people who don’t share my beliefs. I’d be saluting the flag and saying ‘god
bless America’ if the state had the common sense to warm up to my philosophy.”
Says Stacy
“A real American if I ever met one.”
Says Jenna dryly
“The video surveillance maybe, I don’t
think the whole chip part would work, it would need electricity, and besides
people would just remove them.” Says Grace
“Well, it is your civic duty to plug
yourself in every now and again, such a chip wouldn’t use much energy so a
small battery can be put in alongside it. If your battery gets too low, it will
send out a signal and you will be pleasantly reminded to do so. The whole
removal part is a non-issue, because it could monitor temperature and location
stagnation to notice when it gets removed and alert the proper civic minded
individuals, and beyond that it could easily be wrapped around a vital artery
to avoid that fiasco all together.” Says Stacy
“Humane. To say the least.” Says Jenna
“If I get paid two apples worth of
humaneness in exchange for one apple of humaneness, I’ll gladly do that
exchange every time. I don’t even value humaneness; it’s simply from an
economic perspective.” Says Stacy
“I think it would do a lot to prevent
crime, as much as it is kind of unethical.” Says Isabelle
“Ethics are unethical. Ethics defend
unethical things to the point where they are entirely hypocritical, ethics
defend freedom unquestioningly which in turn defends vice and crime, ethics
defend life unquestioningly which in turn defends prolonging the suffering of
people at all costs; ethics values the lives of criminals unquestioningly to
the point where they devalue the lives of victims. Ethics are nothing but a
fallacy that idealists hedonistically relish and use to assert themselves and
their self-assured delusional benevolence over people who don’t fall victim to
the same delusions.” Says Stacy
“Double-think at its finest,
everybody.” jokes Jenna dryly
“The future is now, Jenna.” Says Stacy
“This is so ridiculous; you realize
literally everybody will protest if not riot if you even tried that. You tend
to have a decent plan of getting there but it doesn’t seem to be the case
afterwards.” Says Jenna
“Protests? That’s about the time the
tin soldiers start gunning people down: rubber bullets before noon on Sundays.”
Says Stacy
“So everybody’s dead. That’s great.
Great plan. You should go back to the drawing board to be honest.” Says Jenna,
dryly
“Da Vinci conceived the idea of a
flying machine long before man was able to create a helicopter, one doesn’t
need to know every last minutia down to the t to understand the principles
behind a functioning concept. I’ve got plenty of time to work out the kinks,
don’t worry.” Says Stacy
“The entire thing is kinks. You work
out the kinks and there’s nothing left.” Says Jenna
“Babylon does the same exact thing that
I plan on doing, they just half-ass it and try to pretend they don’t. I’m
proposing the same thing but classier.” Says Stacy
“That is kind of true, maybe not the
army of drones, but close.” Says Isabelle
“We just don’t see the army of drones
because we don’t live in some third world country being brutalized by the
United States military. I’m far more humane than that, which is ironic to say
the least.” Says Stacy
“That’s the sad truth. At least Stacy
doesn’t want to put on some charade to pretend to be a decent person for the
voting population while tearing the world asunder out of greed and a lust for
power.” Says Grace
“I mean I would probably pretend to be
pretty decent, there’s little room for honesty in a sales pitch. People don’t
want a reasonable amount of success for an affordable cost; they want wild
unprecedented success in exchange for practically nothing.” Says Stacy
Shirley approaches the girls table again;
the three look at her, preemptively displeased
“Hello again, I know this is kind of a
shot in the dark, but since you girls are freshman it might be my best chance.
You remember the witches from last week right? Apparently two more witches
showed up downtown. The cops don’t even think that they’re real, but I’m sure
they are. I am wondering, since you are all a year younger than me, if you know
anyone or their sister or something who left middle school to, well, you know…”
says Shirley, excitedly precipitate
“No. I’m afraid we don’t. We don’t know
anything.” Says Stacy
“What? Really? It’s huge news.” Says Shirley
“I mean I know the gist, but nothing
more than that. Sorry, can’t help you.” Says Stacy, trying to shoo her away
“If you don’t know the whole thing,
I’ve got the article, I’m just saying it involves a girl you might know, like
maybe went to school with or something. I just want to meet these witches; it’s
totally crazy how they do this stuff.” Says Shirley
“What are you talking about? I don’t
follow the witch thing.” asks Isabelle
“These witches apparently use magic or
summon demons to get these girls to kill people. Like they possessed some
prostitute that murdered a bunch of church officials.” Says Shirley
“That sounds like nonsense.” Says
Stacy,
“That’s what the police think, but I
don’t care. They’ve got to be real, that’s two times in a week almost.” Says
Shirley
“Sounds like insanity to me.” Says
Jenna
“It’s not. There’s even a witness
testimony.” Says Shirley
“What did the witness say exactly?”
asks Stacy, a bit upset that the priest had talked to the police at all
“I’ll read it, it’s crazy.” Says Shirley,
pulling out a folded newspaper article, “Two young witches and a prostitute
that appeared to be about twelve years old entered the church. The witches had
summoned a demon that possessed the prostitute who came to seek help. By some
miracle I was able to exorcise the demon and the girl returned to a proper girl
with faith in God. The witches were enthralled by Satan to the point where they
thought they were serving the Lord; I attempted to help them see the light of
God, with limited results. It was the boldest work of Satan I have ever
experienced, for two of his own thrall to step foot in such a holy site. The
witches did not leave my sight and I have been told the men were not killed
with black magic, so I do not suspect them of doing so. I did not hear any
gunshots or see anybody else enter the church during this time nor until the
police had arrived.” Finishes Shirley
“So this was the priest at the church,
I presume? A living one clearly.” asks Isabelle
“Yeah.” Says Shirley
“Downtown is full of lunatics. What did
the police say about it anyways?” asks Stacy, a bit sour that she might be
suspected in a sense
“This is what the official police
statement was” says Shirley, “This appears to be the work of a professional
assassin, one who has ties to powerful people within the church. The priest did
not know anything about the children nor did the children recognize the priest,
so the knowledge of such atrocities must be limited to people with substantial
power. Neither quote unquote ‘witches’ nor a twelve year old prostitute fit the
description of the suspect, so we do not suspect them, if they even exist, as
the only witness seems to be wildly delirious. The rescued children have
without fail identified the dead bishops as the men who repeatedly abused them,
and this brings me to my final point. Even if we found the man, we cannot
convict the assassin in question due to the Good Samaritan laws that are in
place, seeing how his actions were legal as he was acting in the defense of
other people against criminals, and so we will not be conducting any further
investigation into the matter. The children have consistently stated that there
were five men only ones who abused them, with older ones referencing a sixth
who is believed to be former Archbishop George Lewis who passed some years ago
as the children noted his absence starting from the time of his death. For this
reason we will not be investigating the church any further regarding this
ordeal.” Says Shirley
“Wow. It’s amazing that the police will
find any excuse not to do their job. The crime of the month, if not the year,
and they still can’t be bothered to do anything.” Says Isabelle
“Sounds like the Bay City police
department to me. I wouldn’t call it amazing in any sense of the word, it’s not
even suprising.” Says Grace
“That’s dandy and everything, but no,
I’m sure none of us know any girls who have taken to prostitution. We all went
to fairly prestigious schools, it’s not like we were slumming about in the
publics. We don’t’ even know what the girl looks like, so it could be anyones.”
Says Stacy
“It’s ridiculous that the police didn’t
even ask the priest for a description of any of the girls.” Says Shirley
“It’s really not. The man is clearly a
lunatic, so even if he described them and they found the witches or whatever,
his testimony would be invalid on account of his insanity. It’s not like you
can really convict anyone of witchcraft, and the police don’t prosecute
prostitutes. The cops of all people aren’t going to chase a lead that goes
nowhere; hell, they won’t even chase a lead that goes somewhere.” Says Isabelle
“I’m amazed that the church of all
institutions actually did something to address their problems. I doubt it was
some moralistic reason either, I’m sure those guys betrayed the church somehow
or the higher church officials wanted to fill the jobs with their own
nepotism.” Says Grace
“Better luck elsewhere, I’m sure if you
really wanted to you could go interrogate actual prostitutes and find more
information.” Says Stacy
“I want to find the girl at our school,
but now that I know that they’re possessed she might not even remember it. The
priest said that the prostitute turned into like a good church girl when she
got exorcised, so it must be demons or something crazy controlling the girls.”
Says Shirley
“Do yourself a favor and don’t put too
much thought into this stuff, it’s all nonsense. Just because lunatics exist
doesn’t mean that there is any reason behind their lunacy other than lunacy
itself.” Says Isabelle
“Maybe you’re right, but it’s kind of
inspiring to hear about badass girls that can go around killing people and
summoning demons or whatever.” Says Shirley
“It was probably just some inner city
youth going to play a prank on a priest. Try to use common sense. Witches, magic,
demons, that sort of stuff is nonsense, no sane person believes in that sort of
thing. Just because there was some high profile assassination at the same time
as a stupid prank doesn’t make it anything more than a coincidence.” Says
Isabelle
“You’re probably right. I don’t know. I
still want to believe the priest, two times is just more than some
coincidence.” Says Shirley
“Even the priest said it wasn’t the
girls who did it, seeing how even the insane witness can testify to that, it
was clearly an assassin, not some prostitute or girl in a witch costume.” Says
Isabelle
“They could have used magic or
something to trick him. Illusion or something.” Says Shirley
“You’re insane. Stop. Get help. Please.
If you see a man dressed up like Jesus or an anthropomorphic animal, you can
understand that the man is not really Jesus or an animal, right?” asks Isabelle
“You’re right. I don’t know. I guess
I’m turning into a conspiracy theorist or something, seeing how I’m
contradicting all of the official statements. I’m sorry, I’m sure I look like a
lunatic, it’s just wild, you know. I just want to get to the bottom of the
whole story of witches in Bay City, if it turns out to be real that would be so
cool.” Says Shirley
“You understand the term ‘witch-hunt’
right?” jokes Isabelle, impressed by the apparent stupidity of the girl
“There’s just too much evidence to
write it off like that. Maybe there will be more news that I can piece together
or something. Sorry about all this, I’m just so excitable, and every little idea
that gives me some hope just gets me going. I believe too much now, I mean it
happened to someone at our school, they joined the coven or something, I don’t
know, maybe there’s a chance I can meet them. Even if you don’t believe, I
would be careful, it is basically a fact that last week they possessed a girl
at our school with a demon that gave her the strength to fight off a couple
rapists, she even killed one.” Says Shirley
“I wouldn’t mind being possessed by
that demon any day of the week.” Jokes Grace
“I’m pretty sure you would kill every
man you see for raping you with his eyes.” Jokes Isabelle
“Only if they actually did that.” Says
Grace, playfully cattish
“Let me know if you find out anything,
I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing, sorry for bothering you.”
Says Shirley
“Thank you.” Says Jenna, agitated, not
looking up from her book, Shirley walks away
“Ophelia, you look like you’ve seen a
ghost.” Says Isabelle, a bit confused
“I don’t know, that’s kind of scary to
hear her talk about that stuff.” Says Ophelia softly
“Don’t worry about it. No witch is
going to possess you with a demon. I thought last week was bullshit too; plenty
of people can fight, especially if it’s dirty or with knives, that’s not magic
in the slightest. Just because somebody from our school knows some cosplayers
doesn’t mean a damn thing. Of course the media is never reasonable and uses the
word ‘cosplayer’ it’s always ‘witch’ even though one of those is fairly common
and the other one doesn’t exist.” says Isabelle, brutally skeptical, frustrated
with the gullibility of her peers
“You’re right. I’ve never seen any
witches anyways.” Says Ophelia
“Thank god. I’d hate to try to talk
sanity into another person.” Says Isabelle, pleasantly relieved
“That girl was easily crazier than me,
and that’s saying something.” Says Stacy, trying to reaffirm the inexistence of
the trio’s double life
“I don’t know if that’s an easy call to
make, but I’ll agree with you.” Says Isabelle
“I’m just judging by whether or not the
whole delusion is physically possible, a non-zero probability is infinitely
more probable than a 0% chance, even if the chance is a trillionth of a
trillionth or something.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got a point, a rather
meaningless, petty point, but it’s valid.” Says Isabelle
“Did you girls really go to a
prestigious middle school?” asks Grace
“Not really. Saint Agnes.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know much about that one.”
Says Grace
“Boring Catholic school for girls, K
through 8.” Says Stacy
“I didn’t know you were that Catholic.”
Says Isabelle
“I’m not; I just got dropped into the
pot of Catholics when I was born by my mom, so I’ve got the title, I’m hardly
religious. My gramps just wanted me and my sister to go to a half decent
school.” Says Stacy
“That’s nice, I guess. I’m sure it was
better than the public school.” Says Isabelle
“You either fail to learn things
because it’s not sanctioned by God or you fail to do so because of the failures
of the public school system.” Says Stacy
“I thought we learned a lot.” Says
Ophelia
“The religious stuff doesn’t count.”
Says Stacy
“Yes it does, it’s important.” Says
Ophelia
“We still had to meet the state
standards anyways. It’s not like we didn’t learn anything.” Says Jenna
“You and Jenna seem to be rather well
educated compared to most of us.” Says Grace
“I have no idea where Stacy picked up
her supposed intelligence, but neither of us have St Agnes to thank for knowing
much of anything. My house is so boring and religion is so trite I would just
escape by reading books.” Says Jenna
“Same. Different books though.” Says
Stacy
“I would also read books. We’re kind of
boring I guess.” Says Ophelia
“It’s the only option we have for the
most part, for one reason or the other none of us really have much access to
television. The only computer in my house is like 10 or 12 years old so it
doesn’t do much, no internet. Thank god I’ve got plenty of books lying around,
my mom was into psychological books I guess and my dad like sci-fi, military,
that sort of stuff, he doesn’t really read any more but he used to.” Says Stacy
“I take whatever I can find to be
honest.” Says Jenna
“I like normal stuff, like girls books,
you know?” says Ophelia
“It’s so weird that you girls don’t
watch television or anything.” Says Grace
“I don’t know, at our middle school
lots of girls were like us. Plenty of parents think television is bad.” Says
Ophelia
“Good luck convincing my dad of that, I
just don’t want to watch his shows. It’s pretty depressing hanging around with
him anyways.” Says Stacy
“My parents think television is
boorish, they like to read academic stuff, I don’t know. They have laptops but
I don’t use them, they do more reading of medical kind of stuff. They’re pretty
devoted doctors.” Says Jenna
“You’re missing out, lots of great
shows out there.” Says Grace
“Don’t worry, you’re not. It’s all mind
numbing garbage. I should honestly read more, but television is just too damn
tempting and convenient. You don’t have to put in any effort and you can just
sit there and chuckle at stupid things as your mind rots away.” says Isabelle
“I don’t want to listen to my beautiful
window to the world be slandered by someone who can’t appreciate art and
culture, so let’s just get Stacy ranting again, that’s always cheery.” Says
Grace
“Cheery is exactly how I would describe
it.” Says Jenna sarcastically, still brutalizing her mind with her textbook,
not bothering to look up
“What are you in the mood for?” asks
Stacy, pleasured pink at any fellow enthusiasts of herself
“How about religion? Since you went to
a Catholic school and everything, I’m sure it will be quite entertaining.” Says
Grace
“Of course. I am fond of religion,
governments rule by fear of force more than force itself, so giving the
ignorant and lowly one more thing to fear is never a bad idea. Like a scarecrow
for sin, even if in the end it amounts to nothing more in this writhing hell.”
Says Stacy
“You know you’re not supposed to be
afraid of God.” Says Ophelia, matter-of-factly
“Good people don’t fear god because
they have nothing to fear, sinners are the ones who fear god. It is the same
philosophy that the police give decent people a feeling of comfort and safety while
they instill fear into criminals.” Says Stacy
“Clearly the fear of god has not kept
many criminals from committing crimes. I don’t know how you would change that.”
Says Isabelle
“Superstition is frowned upon in
today’s society, I would thoroughly embrace it. People don’t fear god because
they do not see god or feel his presence, but I could interweave the police
state and religion to the point where the faithful and good are redeemed while
the sinners are rebuked. The notion that god is the one who observes and
reports your crimes can easily be instilled as old knowledge fades from
society, it is easily done when those who ‘serve god’ so to speak are the ones
who follow up on any reported unsavory activities. These people are not law
men, or the secret police, but god’s chosen, the faithful who commune with god
and share in his glory and greatness. They are doing the lord’s work at the
very least, so the same people who keep society in chains of fear if not the
physical sort are still none the less the pious and godly.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know how godly a police state
is, I’ll have to double check the bible.” Says Jenna, dryly
“It is the will of god that those with
a sense of goodness and decency instill a police state, in every prophecy of
salvation and damnation god is simply the despot in charge of this purgatorial
police state who gives you a show trial and likely condemns you to eternal
torture for treason when you attempt to emigrate from this place.” Says Stacy
“Are you sure you have a sense of goodness
and decency?” jokes Isabelle
“Of course. If I am not good and
decent, then you say unto god that he himself is evil and indecent. I am godly
as the lamb when I command a man to kill his brother to prove his loyalty to
me, when I purge the world of sin by drowning each one of the damnable with my
own two hands, when I burn entire cities alive for forsaking my expectations in
favor of hedonism or other wretched sicknesses of the mind, when I slaughter
every firstborn child and drown every member of the standing army of those who
question my authority, when I slay those who complain or lie about the boon I
offer with fire and plague, when I bury alive those who falsely claim to have
the capability to shepherd men as godly as I do and condemn their followers to
death to burning alive by fire or disease, when I remind throngs of
philanderers of the deadliness of their vice for worshiping hedonism and
disregarding the culling, when I burn those irreverent to godliness alive, when
I send bears to maul those to death who mock my physical form, or when I slay
entire armies of men while they sleep for rising up against me.” Says Stacy
“You memorized basically every part of
the bible where god kills somebody? That’s what godliness is to you?” Asks
Jenna
“Well, God I think god did those things
too, I recognize some of them at least, so I don’t think they aren’t
technically wrong.” Says Ophelia
“Keep the faith, Ophelia. Those are
very important parts, you know. With the amount of bible study we had of course
I am going to remember the good parts. It
is good to remember why god is to be respected. ” Says Stacy
“You are the most irreverent person I
know, I’m sure you just found those parts to be entertaining.” Says Jenna
“I’m just trying to walk in the way of
the lord.” Says Stacy
“Only when it suits your fancy. That’s
pretty shameless.” Says Jenna
“Go spit on every child who enjoys
Christmas because they get gifts instead of out of pure and holy reverence of
Christ. Know that if you condemn my godly whims, you are also condemning god in
tandem.” Says Stacy
“What about the good parts, I know you
want to fight against sinners, but Christianity is mostly about love and
compassion and fellowship.” Says Ophelia
“Of course it is: love for god,
compassion for your fellow zealots, and the fellowship of the crusades.” Says
Stacy
“Stacy, isn’t that mostly like Old
Testament stuff, I didn’t think Christians really cared about that part.” Says
Isabelle
“Well, it’s in the bible, so I
appreciate it. I’m not as much of a fan of the New Testament, it’s too
preachy.” Says Stacy
“Clearly since you did every one of
your bible reports on the Old Testament.” Says Jenna
“They wouldn’t let me do Revelations.”
Says Stacy
“Thank god for that.” Says Jenna
“You did a damn good job of finding the
parts where god kills people, I’m impressed.” Says Grace
“I didn’t do much of that. I just
wanted to know how powerful god was so asked the teachers for parts where god
punishes bad people, so they were happy to help me there.” Says Stacy
“Of course you had to do it with your
naïve cutesy voice to make it sound like you wanted to relish the glory of god
almighty instead of the violence.” Says Jenna
“I miss the cutesy Stacy; you should
try to bring her back.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t have to feign innocence here,
thankfully.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure it would make you a bit more
popular. You’re kind of brash as it is.” Says Isabelle
“The last thing I want to do is be
popular with the nuns. Pretending to be like them for my entire childhood was
painful enough. Thankfully Ophelia is actually a good Christian and is tolerant
and kind, those girls will tear you apart.” Says Stacy
“Thanks, I do try my best. Jesus was
never meant to people, so I definitely don’t want to be mean. I know you say
some cruel things sometimes, but you also remind me that god isn’t always super
nice either. I think it’s ok that you want to be more like God, and I want to
be more like Jesus, since we are expected to be like both I think.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m not even surprised.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t think people are expected to
be like God, but that’s just my perspective.” Says Jenna
“The humble sustain god’s word and will
through the preservation of self and culture, while the zealous do gods work by
reminding the world of his power and glory. Two means to the same end, they
coexist in harmony.” Says Stacy
“I think zealotry fell out of favor a
few hundred years ago.” Says Grace
“Along with godliness, goodness, and
morality. If everybody cut their right hand off, you wouldn’t defend the
practice simply because the masses had done so. I seek a return to form. The
world was not conquered many times over by irreverent atheists who tolerate
every flavor of heresy. The empires crumble because god no longer showers them
with blessings. They have forsaken god and god has forsaken them in return.
Hundreds of years of irreverence have amounted to nothing but the metastization
of folly, indignation, vice, and wickedness. Without god man is but a savage.
His technology may be powerful but in the end it will not prevent him from
destroying himself through his own incredulity towards his shameless wickedness,
for it cannot be ignorance if he simply chooses not to respect what he knows.”
Says Stacy
“If you really want society to return
to a humble god-fearing bunch, why not lead by example?” asks Jenna, dryly
“That would be nice.” Says Ophelia,
pleasantly
“A shepherd does not tend to his flock
by walking around aimlessly on his hands and knees amongst the sheep. Men are
sheep with the wool of labor, and they must be tended to accordingly.” Says
Stacy
“Men don’t tend to be as docile as
sheep, so how you would even get started is beyond me.” Says Isabelle
“They are like dogs, in a sense, you
slowly gain their trust by giving them treats and eventually they will gladly fight
to the death for you.” Says Stacy
“What sort of treats could you possibly
give to men? They aren’t even loyal to the people who give them things.” says
Grace
“I don’t have to give them anything. I
simply condition them to plunder and they thank me like a god who has ushered
them into paradise. They treat themselves; I’m playing the role of a loving
mother at that point. Once society has been pillaged and the powers that be
ravaged asunder by the chaos, I can sow seeds of order and throw the lowly an orange
every now and again.” Says Stacy
“You think that men who you have
conditioned to destroy society will suddenly have a change of heart and want to
help you build one?” asks Grace
“Of course. Men who have nothing to
lose fear nothing, but once they have something to lose they become quite
fearful. Once they amass some petty hoard and their own militias, I take the
scattered paperwork and order and file it neatly, broker peace and the like.
Fear and delusion go hand in hand; I simply must stoke the grandiose delusions
in the men rather than their natural paranoid ones.” Says Stacy
“It’s amazing that you expect to
conduct chaos like some sort of maestro. Paradoxical to say the least.” Says
Jenna
“I’m pretty sure some random warlord
will just enslave you. It’s pretty crazy to think that all of them will respect
you for no reason.” Says Isabelle
“They will because I am the mother of
the revolution, I gave birth to them, and they love me for doing so. I am the
one thing able to broker peace between the sibling rivalries, and having gained
their trust for sparking such a rebellion, they will undoubtedly turn to me for
more answers.” Says Stacy
“What happens when they don’t like the
answers?” asks Jenna
“I simply must maintain the status quo;
fairness in all fairness is not equal treatment but rational treatment; so
those loyal to me who see the value in order band together and expurgate the
fools who seek to continue to revel in chaos. To seek chaos indefinitely is
against the natural order of natural succession, so the fires will eventually
die down, and after such the forest of order will begin to grow anew, free from
the blight and disease that had once sickened it.” Says Stacy
“You seem pretty confident in setting
the forest ablaze even though that hasn’t happened since the Revolutionary War
for the most part.” Says Isabelle
“That means the forest is begging to be
burned down. It is old, withering, and ripe with long dead desiccated trees
that still stand boldly, blocking the sunlight from the meek shrubbery.” Says
Stacy
“All in all the whole biological
succession allegory kind of makes sense. Contentedness is so commonplace that
people are starting to become discontent with contentedness.” Says Jenna
“That is why it is so reasonable to
delude them with promises of fulfillment, for that is what they truly seek.
They know they cannot find fulfillment in today’s society, so those with no
other option heed my call, and those people are plentiful.” Says Stacy
“I doubt enough people are that
discontented to be honest.” Says Jenna
“It’s a matter of factions, and the
majority of people will remain neutral. They will disagree with both those who
revel in chaos and Babylon who seeks to suppress it. In attempting to quell the
revolution Babylon commits suicide in the eyes of the people, as the
revolutionaries simply seek a better world, and Babylon is boldly standing in
opposition of such a thing. This causes more of the indifferent to be swayed by
the idea that they are in fact oppressed, and this newfound indignation throws
fuel on the fires of revolution.” Says Stacy
“You seem to be pretty confident about
swaying all of these people so handedly, I’m not so sure it’s that easy.” Says
Isabelle
“She’s swayed you two, at least more
than Jenna. I don’t pay much attention, but I notice you two like it; or
something at least.” Says Ophelia, looking up from her magazine playfully
“It piques my interest, but I can’t say
I’m entirely swayed.” Says Isabelle
“She makes good points, what can I say,
at least sometimes.” Says Grace
“I like to think of the role I play
similar to that of the music man. I don’t expect everybody to take to every one
of my ideals, but perhaps just one, that is all it takes. I sell them this
instrument and they embrace it, they love it, and they master it. Eventually
there are enough musicians for the symphony of the revolution, and they play
the beautiful songs of the discontent of the people. The common man and the
symphony are brought together by their appreciation of the music, and soon
enough there is a parade in every town where even the local bands and even the
little boys and girls march along in the streets plucking the harp of chaos.”
Says Stacy
“Surprisingly beautiful, considering
your usual blunt and brash approach.” Says Jenna
“I’m fond of beauty, even if this world
is not so prone to it.” Says Stacy
“I think the world is beautiful. All of
the plants and animals and the sky can be so pretty. It’s really not hard to
find something pretty every day.” Says Ophelia
“Well you just have to look in the
mirror.” Jokes Grace
“Aww. I don’t know, I think I’m cute,
but it’s kind of boring to see myself. I like sunsets and animals and stuff
more. I can see myself all the time I guess I’m used to it, but that’s super
nice to hear. Thank you.” Says Ophelia, quite sincere
Aurelia walks up to the front of the
class “The bell is about to ring, so try to clean up beforehand. I left the
paper for this weekend’s volunteering on the desk up here, so if you want to go
write your name down. I hope everybody is doing ok, I know it can be hard to
talk about this sort of stuff, but if you do need somebody to talk to, even
just about anything, there are councilors for that, or even if you just want to
talk to me let me know and we can stay after club. Enjoy the rest of your
Wednesday and I’ll see everybody tomorrow.” She says, the girls rustle about
cleaning up and putting things away, the bell rings, the model citizens gladly
write their names to volunteer with the animals, and the girls exchange
pleasant goodbyes in a bit softer tone than usual after having been lathered in
the grimness that most had already forgotten
The gang exits the school into the
courtyard as the sun shines its shiny sunshine in the second middle of the
daylong day.
“The sun is too good to me. The incandescent
lights and air conditioning were killing me.” Says Isabelle
“You girls up to anything today?” asks
Stacy
“Not really, you?” asks Isabelle
“Free as a field slave on Christmas.”
Says Stacy
“That band made me want to avoid the
coffee shop for a while to be honest.” Says Grace
“I agree with that wholeheartedly. I
wouldn’t even call that a band, it was just noise.” Says Jenna
“It’s a nice day; we could just hang
out at the park or something.” Says Isabelle
“That sounds nice. I can always
appreciate the minimalist outdoors.” Says Stacy
“Relaxing in the sunshine is right up
my alley too.” Says Jenna
“I’m always ok with whatever. I’m no
good with plans anyways.” Says Ophelia
“We can probably challenge some
drunkards to Cornhole or something. That’ll be worth a laugh.” Says Stacy
“I’m always surprised at the number of
people who drink at the park in the afternoon on weekdays. I would think it
would be 0, but there’s always a group or two.” Says Jenna
“Let’s go find ourselves that laugh.”
Says Stacy, as the girls tally ho on towards the park
The gang finds a can sitting littered
on the sidewalk and kick it, chasing it, laughing, feeling the poverty grow on
steadily on their bodies. Soon their bodies are robed with lush burlap robes as
the sentient dirt satiates its own survival as it beautifies their faces and
their bodies which gleam with speckles of dust and dirt thanks to the
hardworking dirt ghost who proudly continues to make something of itself with
its local small business approach to cosmetology, giving the locals the
customary look as opposed to forsaking its own heritage and taking the approach
to beautification that is taught in beauty school, not that the ghost has
failed to pick up plenty of the tricks of the trade in her own foray into the
field.
The buildings stand haughty with their
emblems nearly illegible from their irrelevance as wondrous noises echo from an
alleyway between two offices competing in innovation, as they know only one of
them can survive in the future, yet the world has not yet wed itself to one or
the other, so still the two eligible suitors chase the dame of business, the
pencil pusher and the paper pusher at odds with each other, each trying to
prove their own worthiness and discredit the other’s. As the girls approach,
the noises of screeching and beeping, and howling as a truck on an overpass in
a low bitrate digital monotone reveal themselves to be sourced from the
wellspring of such beauty, the only such being capable of such beauty; it was
none other than a noble gentleman. The man sat in a cardboard box that was in
much better shape than he was, his skin and clothes equally covered in filth,
scars, and scabs, the small holes in the clothes a bit more elegant than the
ones in the skin due to the absence of dried blood, one eye as grey as his
beard that stared into the urban wilds across the street, unflinching in its
gaze as the girls step in front of it.
“Are you a street performer?” asks
Isabelle, mildly entertained
“I AM GOD!” shouts the man
“So what is the performance exactly?”
asks Isabelle
“You fool! This is the machine! I
control the fate of every man with this machine; I alone choose the destiny of
mankind. I control their minds, their actions; every part of every man with
this machine. I am God, and this is the machine, behold, be fear!” shouts the
man, eyes still unflinching and indifferent to making eye contact with the
girl, far more focused on his divine machinations
“Can you control me?” asks Isabelle
The man starts to maneuver his arms
randomly, he starts to screech and boop and beep, grumbling and mumbling loudly
like an engine if an engine were an angry man shouting unintelligible nonsense
was what was hidden under the hood of every car. The man’s unintelligible
mumbling starts to sputter, growing louder and more aggressive, methodically
maneuvering his hands through the dance amongst the mechanical cockpit of the
machine he skillfully pilots. “Fate is never too late!” he finally shouts
Isabelle reaches into her shirt and
grabs twenty dollars and tosses it into the box. The man is entirely
indifferent, for he survives solely only ambrosia, but he does continue to echo
the mechanical rumblings of his godlike machine with his own blessed vocal
chords. Isabelle walks back towards the girls and they start to walk away.
“That was super weird.” Says Ophelia
“I liked it; I thought it was a great
show. Way better than the losers who play guitar or whatever.” Says Isabelle
“You are a noble girl indeed.” Says
Stacy
The girls complete the hop, skip, and
jump to the park fairly empty but sporting the highest density of intelligent
people in the area, for the people there had all come to the conclusion that
enjoying the breeze and sunshine in 80 degree weather was far more pleasant
than attempting to enjoy the abodes that slowly rot alongside their livelihoods,
rank with a palpable 80 degrees of squalor. The girls make their way to the
cornhole stadium consisting of two metal benches on both sides and metal
cornhole boards anchored into the ground. A couple of college aged boys and
three clearly homeless men sit on the benches imbibing.
“You all want to play cornhole?” asks
Stacy
“Cornhole is on Thursdays. Wednesday is
support group.” Says one of the bros
“What are you talking about?” asks
Jenna
“This is the Saint Joseph’s College
Community Outreach Society, are you also part of a local chapter?” asks the boy
“No. Never heard of it.” says Stacy
dryly
“Well, my name is Joseph, and this is
Tommy, our friends are Blade, Rico, and Killjoy. If you want to join we would
love to have you, everybody needs support, not just the homeless, feel free to
grab a drink and take a seat.” Says Joseph
“What are you drinking?” asks Isabelle
“Fortified wine, of course, we want to
make people feel at home. We’ve got a few cases, just in case more people show
up.” Says Joseph
“We’re only 14; it is illegal for us to
drink.” Says Jenna
“We are a Christian society, we are not
out to encourage you to do illegal things. I am sure all of you have been
baptized, so it is perfectly legal for you to take sacrament. I won’t let you
have the strawberry-kiwi or blue raspberry, but we’ve still got plenty of red
grape wine to go around.” Says Tommy
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
Says Jenna
“Are you a heathen? This is a legal
mass, and Joseph is more than ordained enough to give communion.” Says Tommy
“Hallelujah.” Mumble Blade
“How do you become that ordained
exactly?” asks Isabelle
“You just have to remember that you are
ordained, and that’s all it takes. It can be hard sometimes, but it’s always
good to have a business card in your wallet that reminds you that you are
ordained. Religion is free, after all, the first amendment. I’m sure you girls
know that.” Says Joseph, quite proud of himself
“You girls look like you go to that
Catholic school, I am sure you are bereaved from the events of yesterday, now
is a perfect time to find the community support you need. We are here to help
everybody.” Says Tommy, pleasantly drunk, along with the rest of them
“You two might be the ones who need
help, it’s the middle of the afternoon and you’re drinking already.” Says Grace
“You condemn Wednesday mass? Are you a
heathen?” asks Joseph, quite drunk
Tommy pours some of his Strawberry-Kiwi
wine into his hand and starts to flick it on Grace “The power of Christ compels
you! Leave this girl, demon!” he shouts
“We’re going to leave now.” Says
Isabelle, frowning
“Jesus Christ.” Mumbles Grace
“I would stay, but I can’t change their
minds. I hope you all have a wonderful mass, bless you for helping everybody.”
Says Ophelia, sweetly
“May you be blessed and holy as well,
sweet girl. I am glad the lord has not forsaken all of the denizens of this
city.” Says Joseph
“Praise be to God.” Says Ophelia, still
cute
“Hallelujah!” Says Tommy, quite
fulfilled by the faith
“Time to go.” Says Isabelle, Grace
grabs Ophelia’s hand and pulls her away
“Bye!” shouts Ophelia as the girls walk
away
“Well, cornhole is out of the question,
what do you all want to do?” asks Stacy
“We could try to join a game of
basketball or something.” Says Grace
“I don’t want to run around in school
shoes, besides, didn’t Stacy hurt herself playing basketball?” asks Isabelle
“Yeah, it’s fine now though.” Says
Stacy
“That’s good. I’m fine with just
hanging out, we could sit under the awning or something and just enjoy the
breeze, I’m pretty sure Stacy’s skin isn’t too fond of the sun, you’re
practically transparent you know.” Says Isabelle
“You never learned about cold blooded
animals?” jokes Stacy, the girls chuckle
“Good point. I’m still not trying to sweat too
much.” Says Isabelle
“I wouldn’t mind some shade.” Says
Ophelia
“Good. The sun always tricks you into
thinking it’s nice when you get out of the AC, but then it turns on your pretty
quick.” Says Isabelle, the girls walk over to the awning
“I’m kind of sad you girls didn’t want
to hang out with the boys.” Says Ophelia
“Those were shameless men. You don’t
want to hang out with them.” Says Grace
“They were church boys, there’s nothing
wrong with that.” Says Ophelia
“A cornhole stadium isn’t exactly a
church.” Says Jenna
“They were doing outreach; we could
have helped the homeless people feel better too.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure the wine had that more than
covered. You’ve really got to have better standards than that.” Says Isabelle
“Wow, college educated and members of a
Christian outreach group are still not good enough. I don’t even know, what am
I doing waiting for Jesus to be my boyfriend?” asks Ophelia
“That might be your best hope at this
point. Not just anybody named Jesus either.” Says Stacy
“Wow. Grow up. Those were great guys
and you let them slip away.” says Ophelia
“They were like 8 years older than us,
why would we try to get with them?” asks Isabelle
“I’m just saying maybe they had some
cute brothers or something, they were pretty cute.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure their brothers would be
equally idiotic. You don’t realize I smell like strawberry-kiwi right now?”
asks Grace
“It smells nice, besides, they just
wanted to make sure you weren’t possessed. It’s pretty awful to disrespect mass
like that.” Says Ophelia
“That was just drinking with homeless
people.” Says Isabelle
“They had communion and everything, one
of them was even ordained.” Says Ophelia
“He just said he was ordained. I don’t
think strawberry-kiwi or blue raspberry fortified wine count as communion
either.” Says Jenna
“I thought they were decent people,
looking out for the homeless like that. You know those men would be suffering
if somebody hadn’t been so saintly to take good care of them like that.” Says
Stacy
“Thank you, Stacy. At least somebody
can understand what a decent person is.” Says Ophelia
“You think that a drunken grown man who
offers fortified wine to a fourteen year old girl is a decent person?” asks
Grace
“I have been drinking wine at church
since I was a kid, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Says Ophelia
“That’s different. Fortified wine is
bum wine, not even close to church wine.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t know the difference, but he
said it was red wine just like at church. We’re not even going to mass, so we
probably just sinned by not attending that one.” Says Ophelia
“I think public drunkenness is a sin,
so they might just cancel each other out.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know. Whatever. You girls can
keep on being cold hearted to the point where you dislike even good men, and
one day I’ll find one because I actually keep my heart open.” Says Ophelia
“If your definition of a good man is
one who drinks bum wine in the park with you, I think you actually have a
decent chance at that.” Jokes Isabelle
“You know this is why we have to keep
an eye on you. Who knows what those boys would have tried to do with you if
they got you drunk.” Says Stacy
“They were good people. Why do you
think they would kill me or something?” asks Ophelia
“They were good for nothing drunk
college guys, I’m sure all they want to do is take advantage of girls,
especially beautiful ones like you.” Says Grace
“Why wouldn’t you take advantage of a
great opportunity? Maybe we could fall in love or something.” Says Ophelia
“They
would do very sinful things to you when you were drunk because you don’t know
any better. So just be wary of that and make sure not to get drunk or hang out
around men like that. I’m sure you’ve been warned about that sort of thing.”
Says Jenna
“Yeah. I know. Boys want to do bad
things, but those were church boys and if I can’t trust them how can I trust
anybody?” asks Ophelia
“Just because they go to a Christian
college doesn’t mean they’re exactly church boys. That college is known far
more for its partying than its faith.” Says Isabelle
“I know partying like that is bad with
the drugs and alcohol, but still. It’s just so frustrating that every guy in
the world is supposedly a bad guy.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure if we lived in some backwoods
town there would be plenty of guys who were at least a quarter of the way
decent. It’s just going to be hard to find them here. Bay City is sometimes
called Satan’s Paradise for a reason.” Says Stacy
“Who calls it that?” asks Jenna,
confused
“My dad, at least.” Says Stacy
“I think Satan would be upset that none
of the sinners get punished.” Jokes Isabelle
“That depends on if Satan tortures the
damned out of sadism or a sense of justice. He either takes anything god lets
him have and entertains himself or he’s just some unquestioning lackey of god.”
Says Stacy
“Probably the first one, maybe god’s
friend or something who decided to go half and half with god on the souls way
back in the day.” Says Grace
“Satan seems to get the lion’s share of
souls these days.” Says Jenna
“I’m pretty sure most people go to
heaven. It would be hard to upset God so much he doesn’t forgive you.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m pretty sure there are plenty of
unforgivable sins, and plenty of people commit them, sadly.” Says Stacy
“I’ve heard that there are some, I kind
of forgot what they were.” Says Ophelia
“For the most part it is only denying
the existence of god.” Says Jenna
“At least everyone in prison with faith
in god gets into heaven.” says Grace sarcastically
“I’m pretty sure they just go to
purgatory for a terribly long time. Just like prison, you might get out
eventually, but it will have battered your psyche. Hell, some people might
never get out, and even that is pretty merciful for god to spare them from
burning in hell.” Says Stacy
“That kind of makes sense, forgiveness
was always about repenting. It might be impossible to repent enough for some of
the stuff that gets people into prison.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure most of them would rather
stay in prison than go to hell, plenty of them would rather stay in prison than
be free; seeing how they lost most of the skills they need to exist within
society after being locked up for so long. That’s why the recidivism rate is so
high; they simply have no capability to live the life of anything but a criminal.
That’s how society sees them and that’s how they see themselves. It takes an
insane amount of determination to even attempt to overcome that stigma, seeing
how it is easily impossible in plenty of cases.” Says Stacy
A couple holding each other was they
walk by stops for a moment next to the awning, the young woman whispers into
the ear of the man and holds his hand and pulls him towards the girls.
“Hey, aren’t you that love witch from
the other day?” asks the woman
“I don’t know.” Says Ophelia, startled
and a bit embarrassed
“The one with the cute dress and the
witch hat and the light up scepter thing?” asks the woman
“Not me, just a normal schoolgirl here.
It would be super embarrassing to be seen wearing silly clothes like that.”
Says Ophelia, embarrassed attempting to brush aside the point
“Oh. Well it must have been some other
girl with red hair, big tits, and a cute voice like yours then.” Says the woman
“It must have been.” Says Ophelia
“Girls like that are a dime a dozen
around here.” Says Stacy
“Well, if you do see a girl who looks
like you walking around in cute witch clothes, tell her that her magic charm
really worked wonders. Not just in
the bedroom, but all over the house, it’s amazing. Now Terry makes love to me
with not only his entire body, but his mind too, it’s amazing.” Says the woman, holding her man and stroking him
seductively
“Oh my gosh! I will totally tell her!
That’s so awesome… if I see her that is, which I don’t know if I ever will.”
Says Ophelia, excited but somewhat capable of remembering secrecy
“I also want to let you know that we’re
getting married! We would totally invite you… or that witch girl, but we want
to keep it small and sensual. Thanks again for everything!” says the woman
“Wow. That’s so beautiful. I’m so happy
for you two. I will totally tell her if I see her.” Says Ophelia, truly happy
and excited
“You are an angel, you know? Blessing
me like that, I’ve never felt so confident and passionate in my life.” Says the
man
“I’m sure you’re talking about the witch,
who is totally not me at all, but I’m super happy she could help you two.” Says
Ophelia
“Right. The witch girl. Give her my
thanks, I truly owe her.” Says the man, smiling, winking at her
“Of course, I’ve never seen any witches
or anything but hearing that good news makes me super happy!” says Ophelia
“Is this because of the bad things that
happened yesterday, the witches or what not?” asks the woman
“I don’t know. I’m not a witch so I
wouldn’t know.” Says Ophelia
“Of course, I’m sorry that some mean
girls had to ruin your fun, but I think your spirit is what kindled that
something special between us. It is so wholesome and beautiful.” Says the woman
“Not me, I’ve never met you two or been
a witch, sorry! You’ve got me mistaken for somebody else.” Says Ophelia,
growing palpably anxious
“Of course, sorry for bothering you.”
Says the woman, a bit embarrassed
“I will totally let her know though; it’s
so great to hear that!” Says Ophelia, unable to contain her excitement
“Bye now.” Says the woman, as the two walk
away
“What is wrong with this city? Is
everybody insane? Witches left and right, it’s got to be something in the
water.” asks Isabelle
“I don’t know. It was super great to
hear about a good witch for once, I’m so glad there are love witches instead of
just the bad ones or whatever.” Says Ophelia
“That’s super cute that you just melt
like that instantly.” Says Grace
“I can’t help it. They are such a cute
couple.” Says Ophelia
“I think its super weird that they
would go talk to some random school girl about their love life, that’s a new
level of deliriously love drunk and telling the world about your escapades.”
Says Isabelle
“I think they just thought they
recognized me or something. I don’t know, I’m sure lots of girls out there look
like me.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure lots of girls wished they
looked like you, but actually doing it would be something different all
together.” Says Grace
“I love how Jenna is the one who get
the most embarrassed about this.” Says Isabelle
“It’s kind of embarrassing to hear people
talk about that stuff.” Says Jenna, searching for something to say
“You truly are a Catholic schoolgirl.”
Jokes Isabelle
“That sort of conversation isn’t the
type of thing you should talk to strangers about.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know. It seemed to be the
truth. If my love life was that great I might end up bringing it up with
strangers.” Says Isabelle
“That was like beyond love drunk; that
was like love shitfaced.” Says Stacy
Isabelle laughs “I’m sure it feels damn
good though. I don’t blame them; plenty of people can’t find a drop to drink.”
She says
“I still don’t understand how otherwise
reasonable people can start to believe in that sort of nonsense.” Says Jenna,
attempting to beat the notion of witches to death
“I don’t know, Ophelia, are you sure
you’re not a love witch? You seem to have put some kind of powerful love charm
on Grace.” Teases Isabelle
“Stop it.” Says Grace
“No. Definitely not me.” Says Ophelia,
quite embarrassed
“Damn, I’ll have to keep my eyes peeled
for another girl with red hair and big tits. I could use some magic to spice up
my love life.” Says Isabelle
“What love life?” asks Grace
“Exactly.” Says Isabelle
“You want to be that much in love with
somebody?” asks Stacy
“All I know was that girl was getting
it good.” Says Isabelle
“What would you know about getting it
at all?” asks Grace
“I know it feels good, at least, but
still. I wouldn’t mind some miraculous lovemaking skills to start me off
right.” Says Isabelle
“I think we’re all too young for that
sort of thing.” Says Jenna
“Plenty of girls our age already have a
baby.” Says Isabelle
“That’s extremely unfortunate, and
clearly indicates that they were too young seeing how irresponsible they were.”
Says Jenna
“I wouldn’t take it that far, I know
how to take precautions.” Says Isabelle
“Thank god, but still, it’s not a good
idea. Even fail-safes can fail sometimes.” Says Jenna
“Always so precautious, you’ve got to
loosen up a bit, sadly it’s just a fantasy at this point.” Says Isabelle
“When I think about it, it seems more
like a nightmare waiting to happen. That’s like one of the easiest ways to ruin
your life.” Says Jenna
“I agree with you there. You know those
girls with kids are going to have a very hard life ahead of them, all because
they made one stupid mistake one time, it stays with them for the rest of their
lives.” Says Grace
“You are forgetting about everybody who
plays with fire and doesn’t get burned. You can’t blame a girl for wanting to
get warm sometimes.” Says Isabelle
“There are plenty of other ways to do
that.” Says Grace
“We all don’t bark up that tree,
Grace.” Says Isabelle
“Besides that.” Says Grace, rolling her
eyes, looking away, annoyed, embarrassed
“My hand is not the same size as a man,
if you didn’t realize that. It’s not like I can hold myself in my own arms
anyways.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t blame you. I don’t know why
you would have a baby if you aren’t married though.” Says Ophelia
“It’s because people make mistakes, and
we really don’t want you to make that mistake.” Says Jenna
“I won’t. I know better.” Says Ophelia
“It’s hard to believe you know better
than to do something that you don’t know what it is, but I’ll leave it at
that.” Says Stacy
“What part of it do you think I not
know?” asks Ophelia
“All of it. You didn’t take health
class, remember? I doubt your parents told you anything.” Says Stacy
“They told me people get married and
have kids, and that’s all I needed to know.” Says Ophelia
“That’s really all you know? Like you
don’t know how babies are made?’ asks Isabelle
“I do, the man lies with the woman; it
says that in the bible.” Says Ophelia
“I’ll be damned, that’s pretty
accurate.” Sys Stacy
“Just be sure not to lie down with any
men until you’re married.” Says Grace
“Of course I won’t. I know better than
that.” Says Ophelia
“At this rate a guy will strip Ophelia
naked and ten men will have their way with her because they told her to stay
standing up.” Jokes Isabelle
“What do you mean?” asks Ophelia
“Just don’t let men get you naked,
that’s how it starts. They can’t get you pregnant if you’re not naked.” Says
Grace
“It’s not hard to slide that piece of
cloth to the side and go to town.” Jokes Isabelle
“This is inappropriate, but I guess
Ophelia needs to learn sooner or later.” Says Jenna
“I’m pretty sure Ophelia knows not to
let men touch her down there, so don’t worry about that.” Says Stacy
“Thank you, Stacy. See, I’m not as
stupid as you think.” Says Ophelia, smugly
“I’m proud of you. You set my mind at
ease, at least a little bit.” Says Jenna
“I’m still a bit concerned, it seems
like there’s plenty of room for things to go wrong. Is that really all you know
about that stuff?” asks Isabelle
“Please don’t muddy her with your
filthy mind, Isabelle. That’s the last thing we need.” Says Jenna
“I’m just asking, I’m not trying to
muddy anyone, don’t worry.” Says Isabelle
“I mean; the normal stuff about lying
down or whatever, then I guess things like a man should not lie down with
another man. My dad always says that whenever anyone brings up the mayor.” Says
Ophelia
“Damn, Wallace Jeffries could save the
world and people wouldn’t give him a break. I only hear good things about him.”
says Isabelle
“Yeah, but my dad gets mad that he’s
so, like, blatantly a sinner or whatever.” Says Ophelia
“He is flamboyant, I’ll give you that.
That’s probably the only reason he won to be honest, the minority population
wouldn’t trust a white person unless they were also rather discriminated
against.” Says Stacy
“So you know that’s bad, but what about
two girls, you know?” asks Isabelle, looking at Grace with a meddling smirk,
Grace looks down disheartened
“I don’t think that’s the same. I’ve
slept in the same bed as my mom and my sister and even Stacy plenty of times
and he never said it was bad.” Says Ophelia
“Stacy, I didn’t know you were like
that.” Teases Isabelle
“I don’t want to sleep on the floor;
she’s got a big bed anyways.” Says Stacy, rolling her eyes
“Still, I’m saying, you know like the
other kind of lying together. Like a man and a woman.” Says Isabelle
“Well, Stacy never got me pregnant, so
it’s not really the same at all.” Says Ophelia
“You know you don’t have to get
pregnant to do that, right?” asks Isabelle
“I thought that was the point of doing
it.” Says Ophelia
“Do we need to be having this
conversation?” asks Jenna
“I’m just curious, what, with the bible
involved and what not.” Says Isabelle
“Well, in that case, I will explain. At
Saint Agnes they brought it up like one time and tell us not to lay down with a
woman like one would a man, and even then not to lay down with a man until
marriage, that was about the extent of the health class regarding the topic of
intercourse, but regardless. The bible line they used, and I’m pretty sure it’s
the only one says ‘women lost faith in god and did unnatural things and were punished for it’. That’s
all it says, even though there’s tons of lines about how to kill men lying down
with every last thing, it’s just that one line about women. Not that I am an
advocate for that sort of thing, my neutral objective viewpoint is not quite
what you would think. I read in a magazine that two female chimpanzees will do
that sort of thing in the wild, and since that is man’s closest relative, doing
so isn’t really unnatural, seeing how chimpanzees are completely natural
creatures. I’m sure few people will take the scientific viewpoint in regards to
the bible, but if you want to literally interpret the scriptures then unnatural
things must refer to something else. Don’t take this as some green light, or
anything, I’m just informing you with a neutral objective viewpoint.” Says Jenna,
staring at Grace at the end
“See, even animals like to cuddle with
their mom or sister of friends, everybody likes to cuddle. Who would think
that’s wrong?” asks Ophelia
“So Stacy’s a cuddler, who would have
thought? Stacy seems like the least cuddly person imaginable.” asks Isabelle
“I quickly become one of her stuffed
animals and kind of accept that, I can’t escape her death grip. I don’t really
do much cuddling to be honest, but she tends to pull your head into those
pillows and something about that puts me right to sleep. It must be some kind
of instinct, like for babies or something.” Says Stacy, jokingly embarrassed
and trying to defend herself
“She’s the cuddliest girl I know, so
small and cute, like your own little baby.” Says Ophelia
Isabelle laughs, “Stacy seems like the
kind of girl only a mother could love sometimes. Makes me glad you’ve got
Ophelia.” She says
“Regardless of everything I do, Ophelia
still won’t see me as anything but her baby; it’s been that way since we were
little kids. I don’t know why her instincts kicked in at such an early age.”
Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure every little girl
wants to be a mom, and you were always smaller than me so I got to be the mom.”
Says Ophelia
“Does that make Jenna the dad?” joke
Isabelle, Jenna rolls her eyes
“Cold, distant, rational, stern, hard
working, yet caring and devoted. She’s a pretty good father figure to be
honest.” Says Stacy
“You really think of me like that?”
asks Jenna
“I’m just saying. You’re better than
Dale at the whole fatherhood business, even though you’re a girl or whatever.”
Says Stacy
“I don’t think that is saying much.”
Says Jenna
“Plenty of people settle for less, I
think it’s a nice compliment.” Says Grace
“This is too funny, just like a happy
little family.” Says Isabelle
“I think it’s cute.” Says Grace
“It’s super cute.” Says Ophelia,
enjoying her homemaker’s fantasy
“I feel like I failed as a father if
Stacy is my child.” Says Jenna
“Children always rebel against their parents;
it makes sense why Stacy is so opposed to civility and hard work now.” Jokes
Isabelle, chuckling again
“We will always love you no matter
what, Stacy. Don’t worry about that.” Says Ophelia lovingly, Isabelle starts
cackling
“Jesus, this is embarrassing, change
the topic. Even talking about the bible is better than this.” Says Stacy,
veritably embarrassed by her makeshift parents
“Embarrassed by your parents, it’s too
perfect.” Teases Isabelle
“Let’s avoid the topic of parents; I
don’t want to upset Stacy. She’s got a rough situation with her mom gone and
her dad being in such poor shape.” Says Jenna
“It doesn’t bother me like you think,
it’s hard to complain about Dale and my mom has been gone so long I’ve come to
terms with it.” Says Stacy
“Sorry for teasing you like that Stacy,
I couldn’t help it, but still, II didn’t really expect that part about the
bible, it’s weird you interpret the bible with science but I guess that’s one
way to do it.” Says Isabelle
“I interpret everything rationally and
logically, that’s just how I do things.” Says Jenna
“I think that’s a good way to do it.”
Says Grace
“You only say that because you like
what you heard.” Says Isabelle
“Regardless, you can also take the
rational standpoint that god doesn’t really care about women since his focus
the vast majority of the time is on men, so who knows.” Says Jenna
“Of course God cares about women, God
cares about everyone.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know the bible that well, but
I’m pretty sure it disrespects women plenty.” Says Grace
“The bible disrespects everybody;
everybody is damnable filth and the scum of the earth. The bible tends to enjoy
the image of a submissive domestic servant kind of woman as the pinnacle of
success. I enjoy the lower expectations. Supposed inferiority just makes it
even easier for women to achieve apparently remarkable things. It’s like a man
can drive a racecar nobody thinks twice, but a woman does it and it’s a jaw
dropping miracle.” Says Stacy
“There might be some novelty, but I
think female athletes definitely get the short end of the stick.” Says Grace
“Athletics is a field of physical power
for the most part, so when that is diminished, so is the quality of the sport.
The caliber of play is just not as high so it isn’t as exciting; complaining
that women’s basketball stadiums are empty is like complaining that children’s
recreational basketball games don’t sell twenty-thousand tickets every weekend.
People want to see high caliber action and aren’t going to settle for something
underwhelming in the name of egalitarianism. At that rate you should complain
that there isn’t a Special National Basketball League full of mentally and
physically handicapped individuals that also gets every game aired on
television. Egalitarianism is foolish when it argues that unequal things are
equal. It’s not like men complain that the majority of models or strippers are
women.” Says Stacy
“Wow. Are you really comparing the
opportunity of being a model or stripper to being a highly paid professional
athlete? Clearly there is a huge difference.” Says Grace
“I’ll be sure to complain about the
fact that the NBA game is on instead of the Special NBA game next time. I’m
sure all of the mentally handicapped people want to be paid millions of dollars
too. Indignation isn’t going to change the entertainment value of the sport.”
Says Stacy
“Let’s just skip to the end of this
conversation and accept the fact that Stacy will likely never respect anything
and Grace will never accept that women are not equal to men in all ways
including but not limited to cutting down trees, dunking basketballs, and even
impregnating women.” Says Isabelle
“I’m not that much of a feminist.” Says
Grace
“Yes you are.” Says Isabelle
“I think I’m rather respectful, I give
everything the amount of respect it deserves, even though that’s not the amount
of respect it indignantly and baselessly demands.” Says Stacy
“Which amounts to close to zero respect
more often than not.” Says Isabelle
“That’s not true. More often than not
it is negative respect in the form of disrespect, occasionally it is zero
respect, and once in a blue moon something might actually be worth of being
respected.” Says Stacy
“I can respect that.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t think that word has any
meaning to Stacy, sadly.” Jokes Jenna
“Respect has to be earned, I can
appreciate things, but I’ve just got such high standards that it’s hard for
something to earn respect. Astronauts are wasting time and money dilly dallying
in space, presidents are corrupt, religious people are ignorant, the charitable
are conceited; pretending that net respectability doesn’t exist is foolish,
simply ignoring the negative aspects of things for the sake of defending
something.” Says Stacy
“I don’t see what’s so hard about
respecting people trying to address preventable grievances that plague
society.” Says Grace
“The list of grievances is never
ending; people will always find something to complain about. Rub some dirt in
the wound and get on with your life. People are like dogs, and conditioning
them by rewarding them when they bark all god damn day is the stupidest idea
I’ve ever come across. If they’re barking you take the newspaper and you beat
them, when they are quiet and do a good deed I’m fine with rewarding them, but
giving them what they want for barking incessantly, biting people, and standing
in the middle of the road for hours is absolute nonsense.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think too many protestors bite
anybody.” Says Jenna
“They’ll gladly exchange some holly
jolly fisticuffs with counter-protestors or even just bystanders and feel like
they’re doing the right thing when they throw rocks at the police or vandalize
the city because they’re indignant good-for-nothing ingrates.” Says Stacy
“I don’t see why you’re defending the
oppressors instead of the oppressed people; they just want to be treated
right.” Says Grace
“First of all, that’s impossible, but
secondly I appreciate the oppressors because they come from a long line of
established and esteemed oppressors that clearly understand how to perform the job
to a semi-respectable degree of success. The other alternative is having the
indignant sign waving idiots become the oppressors because society bows down to
every whim and sentiment they decided to paint on a picket sign and wave in the
air. Clearly I’d rather have people trained to captain a ship captain the
goddamn ship than a bunch of idiots who don’t know a damn thing about it. A
ship doesn’t function when every person is the captain, it takes a chain of
command, which takes a level of subservience, which can be viewed as oppression
but it is far more preferable than having idiots draw and quarter anything
resembling order so that they can feel proud that the satiation of their
largely irrelevant whims has taken precedence over keeping the ship functioning.
” Says Stacy
“They’re not idiots, they just want
reasonable things. Society is taken advantage of by the rich and political
elite, and the people just want to be treated fairly, especially women and
minorities.” Says Grace
“Using politics to attempt to
manipulate capitalism is shamelessly stupid. Capitalism is why the country
functions and politics should ideally only come into play when there is an
issue that capitalism cannot address such as a war. Modern politics tends to
burden the machine of capitalism with things that hinder it’s performance; sure
the common man may be happier if you sacrifice performance for comfort, but
there is only so much performance that can be sacrificed before the machine
functions noticeably poorer as the engine is slowly ruined by the perfumes they
lace the fuel with and the extra work it has to do to tow a trailer of comfort,
and soon it will cease to function all together. As immoral as capitalism may
be, it is still the engine that causes society to function, I am not saying
there are not modifications that can increase the performance of raw
capitalism, but certainly the ones that do nothing but increase the comfort of
the ride or the aesthetic appeal are entirely worthless. Society is like a
combine harvester with capitalism as the engine where the crops are labor or
its products, the harvester cannot function without an engine, and if the
harvester doesn’t work the crops don’t get harvested and people starve to
death. It’s idiots that don’t realize that and want nothing but to mutilate a
decent combine harvester to the point that it no longer functions in the name
of hedonism, they want to destroy a good combine harvester that functions well
enough to make our little farm one of the most successful and powerful farms in
the county, they want to forsake the function of the combine harvester that has
taken centuries to build and optimize just so they can have a more comfortable
chair inside the damn harvester.” Says Stacy
“Makes sense to me. If it ain’t broke,
don’t fix it, and for damn certain don’t go and break it.” Says Isabelle
“What about socialism, you know, I’d
rather live in a world where the economic elite don’t get to hoard all of the
wealth they earned and cause other people to suffer needlessly because of their
greed.” Says Grace
“Of course, who doesn’t want to live in
a world where the political elite don’t hoard all of the wealth they stole and
cause other people to suffer needlessly because of their greed.” Says Stacy
sarcastically “In order to address that the government has to overpower
capitalism, which is the day the mechanic tells you that he is more capable of
harvesting crops than the combine harvester. Don’t believe him when he says
this. With the government more powerful than capitalism they pillage and
plunder the wealth of people who actually did something to earn massive amounts
of money at some point, something called business for the most part, and then
the money is all in the hands of people who were so indignant as to punish
people for conducting business and these people reward themselves simply for
being indignant. The money is never redistributed to the people, they are all
easily more oppressed because the government doesn’t want to lose the newfound
power they fought to gain, and now there is no incentive for them to work hard
and innovate because the government will just take their money. Instead of
having a functional farm, you have the people who promised paradise breaking
down the combine harvester for spare parts and running away or otherwise just
whipping people, telling them to farm by hand, and still taking half of the
crops they farm which causes people to starve.” Says Stacy
“Maybe in the Soviet Union or
something, but Europe and Canada do well for themselves.” Says Grace
“They do well enough to survive, but
the comfortable chair in the combine harvester puts too much strain on their
businesses and people now chose to do business and innovate in other countries
where there is more incentive to do so. They fail to be as competitive as
possible and suffer for it. Soon the free market robs them of everything as
they increase taxes to make up for decreased revenue and then more businesses
leave, decreasing the revenue even more. This process continues until they
correct their course or collapse out of stubbornness. The speed of the process
depends on the vehemence of the socialism, which isn’t extremely high in
Europe, but it is high enough to hurt the economy. America has the same problem
with their own entitlement and welfare systems, but instead of raising taxes
usually the government just takes on debt until it hopefully becomes insolvent.
I wouldn’t mind having the Chinese come to repossess the white house and Mount
Rushmore. I would sell off the things like the national parks into private American
hands during the liquidation phase, just so the repossessing don’t get anything
with real value. If anyone has faith in contemporary America to the point where
they invest in it, they deserve to pay the piper for making such a terrible
investment. At least if we had more Chinese influence then we might actually
have a good role model to look up to.” Says Stacy
“How is China a good role model? They
are plagued with human rights abuses and terrible living and working
conditions.” Says Jenna
“They understand how to optimize the
performance of society, sure they might sacrifice the comforts of the windows
on their harvester and get a little wet sometimes, but the fuel efficiency and
speed of the harvester increase enough to make it worthwhile. China picks the
stable functional unified government of a Communist State and mixes it with the
benefits of operating within the free market; they take the best of both worlds
and leave out the problems from dysfunction due to democracy or a communist
economy for the most part. The glue that holds it together might be brutal
authoritarianism, but every system has its flaws. In the end you’re always
sacrificing something, and I’d rather sacrifice the comforts of the people than
the performance of the economy any day of the week, even it takes cracking a
few indignant skulls along the way. China understands that the free market
still rules global economics, regardless of how corrupted it has been within
the nations of the world by their own respective gubernatorial systems. Comfort
is like heroin, and the people choosing to get high on comfort instead of
facilitate the performance of their reaper are left behind in the end with poor
harvests, which means low money, which means in the end they cannot afford
their heroin and they are left addicted, starving, and indignant.” Says Stacy
“You must really be into economics
magazines or something to be able to rant like that.” Says Grace
“I just pick things up here and there
and infer the rest. Jenna’s house is the only place I get to read those sorts
of magazines, but I do enjoy finding them.” Says Stacy
“The fact that you can contort some
economic fun facts and opinions you read occasionally into your ideology is
amazing. I feel like I might be the source of all of your wild ideas, like I
should hide the business and economic magazines when you come over. Make you
read the girls’ magazines or something.” Says Jenna
“We should definitely try to get Stacy
to be girly; it will be hard to get a boy to like you if you’re always ranting
about nonsense. You’re cute enough; you’ve just got to be cutesy and nice.”
Says Ophelia
“No. You’re enough girly cutesiness for
everybody already Ophelia.” Says Stacy
“I think it would be good if you got in
touch with your feminine side, you’re pretty weird right now, I’d hate to know
what guys would think about you.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t care about guys. If my words
don’t feel like heroin to them, their ignorance and idiocy disgusts me to the
point I couldn’t stand them.” Says Stacy
“Now you make me want to keep you away
from boys even more than Ophelia. Just in case you find that one boy out there,
I think you would end up dead even faster than Ophelia if we let you go run
around with a boy like that.” Says Jenna
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Even if I do I
will change my opinions enough to thoroughly disgust myself with the man, and
if he always loves them I will be disgusted by his sycophantry.” Says Stacy
“That’s too classy. I knew you were a
woman deep down, impossible to please. I love it.” Jokes Isabelle
“If Stacy doesn’t want to change
herself in order to please a guy or anyone, that’s more than fine, I’m glad she
doesn’t give a damn about what other people think because then she’d just be
doing some charade like every other girl out of her own insecure anxiety. The
only thing that matters is how Stacy feels about herself and her own self-image,
I wouldn’t want her to squander her strengths in order to suit somebody’s
fancy, not that she would, thankfully. She’s actually a really powerful woman,
if you could appreciate something like that. I don’t agree with her sometimes,
but at least I can respect that she’s her own person, unwavering and strong
willed.” Says Grace
“I don’t know, I think external image
is a little more important than you make it out to be. Society, you know,
colleges, employers, those sorts of things tend to judge pretty harshly based
on appearances. I’m sure Stacy would get in trouble at work if she started
talking about how people should be enslaved and brutalized and treated like
animals, especially if she was talking to a black person.” Says Isabelle
“I’m pretty sure she knows better than
to do that. I don’t see why that wouldn’t upset everyone when she will clearly
tell them that she is talking about enslaving the entire rainbow of people, but
regardless.” Says Jenna
“Yeah, Stacy is pretty good around our
parents and stuff, and in class she doesn’t make too much noise. It’s just when
you let her go she really starts going.” Says Ophelia
“I think it would actually be hard,
since some odd random remark I say absentmindedly outside of work could follow
me back and cost me my job. I do appreciate that you respect my self-image and
what not, I’m fond of it as well.” Says Stacy
“What is that self-image exactly?” asks
Jenna
“Old as time, long grey hair, blind
white eyes, shouting with a booming voice as loud as thunder from the skies at
the people below, the spittle flying from my mouth as I shout forming the
raindrops of liquid shame and guilt that soak into the skin of the lowly and
shameless beasts I attempt to foolishly condition on the path to greatness out
of the kindness of my heart.” Says Stacy
“That’s something else. Cool in a way,
but super weird.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t know, it sounds like God, and I
think its ok, even though I like to think of girls and myself like Mary for the
most part. I only think it’s ok because she does seem to know a lot and want to
help people, even if she’s kind of mean about it. God is mean sometimes, but he
still does good, so that’s why I think that it’s possible for people to act the
same way and still get good results.” Says Ophelia
“What does that make you Jenna?
Joseph?” teases Isabelle
“Constantine.” Says Jenna dryly, Isabelle
laughs
“You three are some characters; the Bay
City days were long as hell before we met you three; far more entertaining than
sitting and watching TV watching Grace complaining about anything and
everything.” Says Isabelle
“The hot air coming out of Stacy
incessantly can become a bit too much on the hot days though.” Says Jenna
“It’s just the sunshine of the soul,
and who doesn’t love some Bay City sunshine.” Says Isabelle, Grace chuckles
“That’s a fitting name for what comes out of
Stacy to be honest.” She says
“I think of it like that sort of, kind
of my slave spiritual, singing to make the pain of the day seem less apparent.
It’s an outlet of sorts.” Says Stacy
“I think if the slaves were prone to
your ranting they would be shot pretty quickly.” Jokes Jenna
“They might just be promoted into house
slaves, I’m sure their masters would love another remorseless authoritarian
capitalist by their side.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you would be pissed off if
you had to work all day and live in terrible conditions.” Says Grace
“Just because they gave the slaves
televisions and realized they could crack the whip of poverty over everybody’s
head instead of just the old fashioned doesn’t mean anybody is any less
enslaved.” Says Stacy
“We’re not slaves Stacy, come on, we
get free time like right now.” Says Ophelia
“That’s because we’re kids. We’re not
the people in the small offices across the street slowly bleeding to death by
giving their brains paper cuts that get infected with aging. Not yet at least.”
Says Stacy
“I’d hate to see you in a work environment;
you’re always so opposed to the idea.” Says Jenna
“I’m not opposed to the idea; I’m just
opposed to the systems in place. The idea is great; I’d love to do some hard
work if I could see the actual results from it. The reason I don’t like school
is because half of it seems trivial, they train me for things I will have no
use for. Regardless of what I end up doing with my life, it’s a given that most
of school becomes trivial fun facts, they want to prepare us with entry level skills
for 50 fields instead of just having us chose one as kids and focus on
mastering that craft from an early age. A jack-of-all-trades and master of none
has never amounted to anything but jack shit and maybe a lowly jackass who
manages to squeak by on a good day, to be honest. It’s painfully inefficient to
say the least.” Says Stacy
“They just don’t want to pigeon hole you;
they want you to be able to find something you enjoy.” Says Jenna
“I’d rather spend 12 years of my life
experimenting with trades and professions that actually could earn me a living
instead of mastering common knowledge and fun facts that wouldn’t land me a job
anywhere but at a school that does nothing but continue the process of
preparing people for the profession of instilling common knowledge and fun
facts that will likely yield little practical benefit into children.” Says
Stacy
“What would you even want to do though?
I don’t have a clue what I want to do.” Says Isabelle
“That’s the point of trying things to
see if I like them or not. I doubt it would be politics because plutocratic
bureaucracy is not my cup of tea, and I’d hate myself for condoning the system
by becoming a part of it. Maybe I just want to push some papers somewhere, I
don’t know. It’s a shame we’ve been in school for 8 years and don’t even have
the skillset we need to push papers, at least I’m not sure if we do, as none of
the homework is ever ‘simulated paper pushing’.” Says Stacy
“I think you would make a good
preacher, you think about God a lot.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t think scaring the people to
death with fire and brimstone would be too popular.” Says Jenna
“I think that’s kind of a flawed model,
if everybody was a skilled laborer there wouldn’t be enough jobs to go around
and people would still feel like their education was wasted. There has to be
some accommodation of failure in the youth in order to have enough people to
fill the low level jobs that people don’t want but will only take because they
have no better alternative.” Says Isabelle
“I’m not arguing that people get paid
any more, this would just increase the quality of labor across the board.
People earn disparate wages because they have disparate skillsets, but even if
everybody working in fast food was a trained chef, they wouldn’t get paid
anymore because the cooking skills they learned in school became the new
standard for employment instead of a GED or what have you. The increased skill
is divided out so there isn’t any disparity inducing wages to increase.” Says
Stacy
“That’s brutal how you connive a way to
get so much something for effectively nothing, but I doubt many people would go
to school and say they want to move boxes around for the rest of their life or
something.” Says Isabelle
“Perhaps not, but every kid wants to be
an astronaut until they are culled out of the program for poor performance and
then slowly sift through less demanding options, until inevitably the people
who are about our age that have failed to master any sort of intelligent or
skilled craft out of their own natural inaptitude or whatever will be given the
choice of digging ditches, shoveling shit, or moving boxes around. They would
spend the rest of their youth in employment training where they learn the
skills they need to dig better ditches, shovel shit more efficiently, or move
the boxes faster.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure they would be upset being
told that they were going to do that for the rest of their life.” Says Grace
“Well they can go to homelessness and
starving to death class if they are truly unable to do a single job on earth.”
Says Stacy
“I’m sure homelessness class would be
pretty entertaining, I hear bums make more money than plenty of people.” Says
Isabelle
“It’s a shame people are so sick with
emotions that they condone and condition people to beg instead of do something.
Regardless, that was a joke. There would be safety nets for the people who
can’t do even that, like work camps, where they will hopefully be able to do
some form of menial labor in exchange for not being whipped and starved or even
just for being whipped if they’re into that.” Says Stacy
“That’s true innovation right there.”
Says Jenna sarcastically
“I’m sure plenty of people would still
refuse to do work, nobody wants to live that life.” Says Grace
“Well, then they get sent off to the
dog food and glue factory like every other horse too stubborn or otherwise
incapable of working.” Says Stacy
“That’s awful, Stacy.” Says Jenna
“What’s wrong with working at a dog
food factory?” asks Ophelia
“Nothing. It’s just a dog eat horse
kind of world out there, and even though some people might be foolish enough to
become a workplace accident and fall into one of the machines for some unknown
reason, plenty of people would value their jobs at the dog food factory.” Says
Stacy
“Wow. That’s kind of bold, even for
you. You think people would actually do stuff, like cut up the… horses… like
that?” asks Isabelle, a bit disgusted
“They make deboning machines for chickens;
it wouldn’t be hard to make one for horses. I’m sure plenty of people could
come to terms with it, if they made it that far down the ladder, they know full
well that it’s eat or be eaten at that point, and if they can’t stomach the
food that keeps them alive then so be it, they shall starve.” Says Stacy
“That’s terrible, how could you do that
to somebody.” Says Grace
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, food to
food, no doubt. Even if it’s not for people, the food that kept the fool alive
was undoubtedly loaned on interest, of course there is going to be some form of
liquidation and repossession in the end. Chasing down rabble rousers all day
makes a dog pretty hungry, and a good boy like that deserves a decent meal.
It’s not like it’s even unnatural, it’s not like children thrown to the wolves
just cuddle with the damn beasts.” Says Stacy
“The human inside of me wants to
criticize you, but my business sense doesn’t allow me to do it. Makes me kind
of glad I’ve got a reasonable mind on me, I’ll be damned if I have sympathy for
the devil.” Says Isabelle
“I’m glad you can see the morality of
the whole ordeal; people that meet such a fate truly are simply throwing stones
at the busses and cars, breaking windows of businesses, all by failing to
conform. The type of people society is willing to accommodate and protect will
always be a line in the sands of opinions, but I would rather make that
decision based off of sciences like economics and mathematics rather than the
sickness of irrational sympathy. As much as respect must be earned, sympathy
must be earned as well. I can sympathize with a wounded soldier who cannot
work, but an indignant ingrate who simply chooses not to work I cannot
sympathize with, and those who were born with no choice in the matter yet met
the same fate will be sent unto the machine and sent off with the kind prayer,
and those who are unfit to feed the noble beasts due to affliction or sickness
will be either incinerated if need be or otherwise tilled into the earth as the
dust of fertility.” Says Stacy
“That seems like the last scenario where
you would hear a kind prayer, especially from you.” Says Jenna
“They didn’t do anything wrong, as more
than likely their natural inability was easily noticed and they would meet the
same fate as any other animal that failed to be born as the animal it was
supposed to be, at least in any sort of reasonable business oriented farm. I
think that sort of misfortune or whatever is worthy of a prayer, maybe send a
little cheese Buddha in to the machine, say something like ‘No harm, no foul.
Recycle the body, recycle the soul’, if I knew more about reincarnation I might
have a better one, nothing too classy, but something to signify the difference
between that baby and the criminals and infidels. Everybody meets one of those
fates, the only difference being that you can get a classy funeral if you were
a decent person and the other is just called the dog food and glue factory.”
Says Stacy
“Why the Buddhist part all of a sudden,
nothing Christian?” asks Isabelle
“Well, I’d like to think they ended up
that way because of previous misdeeds or something and I can help them along
their path of karmatic repentance rather than think that they just are that way
because that’s how God wanted to make them and when they go to heaven and
they’re still the same godforsaken mangled and dysfunctional beast that just
happens to now be a mangled dysfunctional ghost. I’d hate to hear that thing
howling at night. They mix pretty well, you know, you get reincarnated until
you’re good enough to go to Nirvana or Heaven or whatever.” Says Stacy
“What about hell?” asks Isabelle
“Well, you can just look at hell as a
place where everybody is mortal and happens to die eventually, and then they
keep being reincarnated through the infinite layers of hell until they return
to this one or something similar.” Says Stacy
“That sounds way worse than normal
hell, why are there infinite hells now?” asks Ophelia
“Well, they are layers of badness, so
the worse people go to lower layers, so it’s not worse unless you somehow get
send to a worse hell, you just repent for your sins by living through hellish
lives until you’ve redeemed yourself.” Says Stacy
“If you are expected to repent through
multiple lives, one would expect that you would have some capacity to remember
your past grievances so you can actually repent for them.” Says Jenna
“You don’t need to know why you are
suffering in order to suffer, so that isn’t particularly relevant, but I’m sure
just like here, the local denizens of whatever hell you happen to be in
have a loose concept of the
preternatural spiritual song and dance to the point where you will likely be
educated enough in regards to such things that you are expected to be a decent
person, at least in regards to the standards of decency for whichever hell you
happen to be in, and that constitutes sufficient repenting. If your soul makes
the conscious decision to be moral instead of immoral, that is enough to ascend
through the infinite hells towards a better one, and also the other way around.
The varying degrees of life existing in the same place makes it seem more
feasible, this planet can equally be a heavenly hell and a torturous hell at
the same time depending on who and where you are.” Says Stacy
“You think this is hell?” asks Ophelia
“Not the way you think of it. It’s just
a place, if we do good here, we go on towards heaven and if we don’t we go
towards hell, it’s just that there are an infinite number of better existences
we could travel to and never find an end, and the same thing with worse places.
It’s not just a earth, heaven, and hell thing in this story, it’s a never
ending cycle of rebirth by which your new location is determined by the accrual
of goodness or badness within your soul up to that point. I’m just making this
up to say how Buddhism and Christianity can tie together, I’m not saying it’s
the word of god, seeing how we don’t know for any of the specifics of the
afterlife, it’s kind of fun to take shots in the dark every now and again just
thinking of possibilities.” Says Stacy
“I think it was pretty nice, better
than the previous topic at least.” Says Jenna
“Thinking about that, you know, one
man’s hell is another man’s heaven, I’m sure plenty of sick people out there
would be happy to end up in a more hellish place, taking pleasure in it.” Says
Isabelle
“Probably too many men to count to be
honest, most of them seem to live for vice and nothing else.” Says Grace
“As long as they’re sadomasochists the
more power to them, they’re going to end up being the victim more often than
not, but if it’s what they like, I can’t blame them for trying to be happy, as
sick as their happiness may be.” Says Stacy
A brown haired little girl dressed in a
similar schoolgirl uniform walks up to the table of girls in the afternoon sun.
“Hello.” She says, softly
“Hello there.” Says Ophelia, delighted
to see a cute little girl
“Can you spare a moment of your time to
talk about our lord and savior Jesus Christ?” she asks, looking at Ophelia, staring at her with
pleading desperate green eyes
“Of course. That would be lovely.” Says
Ophelia
“The witnesses already have you doing
this? Aren’t you a little young for this?” asks Isabelle
“I’m in the fifth grade, I can be at
the park by myself, I’m not that young. Who are the witnesses, anyways?” she
asks
“You know, the church you are a part
of, Jehova’s Witnesses?” asks Isabelle
“I’m Catholic. I don’t know what a
Jehova’s Witness is.” She says
“Why did you say that first line then?
That’s usually how the witnesses start their little conversation.” Says
Isabelle
“I don’t know, I just heard somebody
ask me that today and it sounded better than what I was saying, so I used that
instead.” Says the girl
“It is super good, so don’t worry about
it. We would love to talk about Jesus Christ with you.” Says Ophelia
“Well, that’s ok, but I don’t know if
you will believe me, it is about God, but people don’t believe me.” Says the
girl
“Of course we will believe you. What is
your name anyways? You are super cute.” Says Ophelia
“My name is Eva, but you have to
promise you believe me, ok? I’ve had people get mad or laugh at me and that
part sucks.” Says the girl
“What do you want to talk about?” asks
Ophelia
“So, God told me that I am in the right
place, so have you seen any magical girls around here? I’m desperate at this
point.” Says Eva
“What does a magical girl look like?”
asks Isabelle
“Well, cute and colorful, they do
magic, with a witch hat I’m pretty sure.” Says Eva
“Jesus Christ, another one going on
about the witch nonsense.” says Isabelle, exasperated
“It’s not nonsense, magical girls or
witches or whatever are totally real, so don’t be mean to me.” Says Eva
“No. Nobody’s seen any witches, there
was a couple who apparently saw one last week and came by to talk to us about
it, but we haven’t seen any, sorry.” Says Isabelle, attempting to be polite
“Wow, really? What did she look like?”
asks the girl, excited
“Apparently she looked exactly like
this cute redhead in front of you, so your best bet is cute redheads at this
point.” Says Grace
“I’m definitely not a witch though; I
guess there must be one that looks like me. I don’t know.” Says Ophelia,
embarrassed, hiding her face with her hand
“No way! Is that ring real? Are you
really a magical girl?” asks Eva, noticing the ring on Ophelia’s finger,
Ophelia looks at Stacy both embarrassed and scared, begging Stacy to say
something with her eyes
“What? No, that’s just a mood ring.
Some Eastern European peddler was selling them, just some silly toy. Don’t let
all of this witch nonsense of late get to your head, you’re young, I know
you’re impressionable.” Says Stacy, skillfully dodging the topic, a bit
flustered by her own hidden embarrassment as well
“It’s totally real, let me see it!”
Says Eve, excitedly grabbing Ophelia’s hand
“No, it’s just a mood ring, I’m sorry.
See?” says Ophelia
“I know it’s real, it’s super white
like you just did some super good deed or something.” Says Eva
“It tends to be white, only Stacy’s
mood ring actually works, or she’s the only one with dark, colorful emotions,
which might actually be the case. Even if it means that Stacy’s brooding or
something I still think her ring shows the best colors. Are those from like a
TV show or book something?” says Isabelle
“It’s real, I can’t believe it! You are
a magical girl; you have to tell me the truth!” Says Eva, looking at Ophelia
excitedly
“I don’t know what you’re talking
about. It’s just a silly toy.” Says Ophelia, anxiously
“I’m sure it’s from a television show
or something, the peddlers love to sell the bootleg merchandise. I just got one
because they looked neat.” Says Stacy
“No, come on, don’t play pretend.” Says
Eva
“I swear it’s the chemtrails.” Says
Stacy
“It’s normal for little girls to get
super caught up in their fantasies and television shows. What is the show called;
I’m sure it’s super awesome.” Says Grace, attempting to be nice to the kid
“It’s not a show, it’s real life. It’s
super awesome I found you.” Says Eva
“What? Why? I don’t understand.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m a magical girl too, see?” says
Eva, holding up her hand, revealing a white mood ring, the same kind of ring
that curses the three
“This girl has one wild imagination,
but I don’t want to be mean, what’s the harm in playing along?” asks Isabelle
“You mean you’re the type of girl like
in the books and comics that goes out and fights bad people with magic? That’s
pretty awesome.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know. I just kind of do things;
I haven’t really fought bad people or anything. I can do magic though.” Says
the girl
“You don’t know? I’m sure you have done
something cool.” Says Isabelle, slowly, beneath herself, but fairly skilled at
playing with children
“Eva, you are forgetting the first part
about being a magical girl, and that is keeping your secret identity secret,
you know? That happens in every book I’ve ever read.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know, I don’t read much. Why
is that the first part?” asks Eva
“If you don’t do that, bad people might
find out who you really are and come to your house because you foiled their
plans with your magic, you know? Or maybe your friends might get scared of you
because you are such a hero. That’s why you need to be super careful about your
secret identity, like you should have a nickname that nobody knows and only use
that instead of your real name when you go out and do magic.” Says Ophelia,
timidly informative yet still warm, comforted by the childlike nature of the
child
“Wow, I guess that could be bad. I
didn’t know that. Thanks! Is that why you were super lying about it or
whatever?” asks Eva
“I’m not a real witch, remember,”
showing the girl the pleading fear in her eyes “but if I was I totally wouldn’t
tell you either.” Says Ophelia
“Well, then I’m not a real witch
either.” Says Eva, looking around, a bit confused, realizing she may have made
a mistake
“I think you just confused the hell out
of the little girl’s playtime.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t know, well, then, if we’re not
witches because we’re not wearing our hats or whatever, so can we still talk
about being witches?” asks Eva
“Nope, you’ve got to keep it a secret
unless you’re in your outfit, then you can tell everybody, but you’ve got to
make sure they know it’s totally not you and use a different name and make sure
nobody sees you transform, ok?” asks Ophelia
“I take it you read a lot of these
kinds of books, Ophelia?” asks Grace
“She does.” Says Jenna, boldly
comfortable in speaking the truth
“Of course, they’re like some of the
best ones out there.” Says Ophelia
“Take the lead then, I don’t know how
to play along.” Says Grace
“I’ll try, I don’t know if I’m that
good at it.” Says Ophelia
“Did you bring your costume with you?”
asks Isabelle
“It’s totally magical, but I can’t show
you, remember?” asks Eva
“I don’t think you can tell me either,
but that’s closer to cannon I think.” Says Isabelle
“What is cannon?” asks Eva
“Just like how things normally work,
you know; the whole secret part. I don’t know; I’m just taking a guess.” Says
Isabelle
“Well, do you two also have mood rings?” asks Eva, playfully
“No mood rings here.” Says Isabelle,
her and grace show their hands
“Aww, well then. I guess we have to
keep our magical girl secrets from you then, right?” asks Eva
“Well, we don’t have any, because we’re
not magical girls, remember?” asks
Ophelia
“Right.” Says Eva, confidently
“I don’t know; it seems like your just
telling the girl not to pretend. She was super into it before.” Says Isabelle
“Ophelia knows how these things work,
so I guess if that’s how you’re supposed to pretend it’s just how it works.”
Says Stacy
“Well, your friend is right, I didn’t
come here to not pretend or whatever,
so can we just talk about it anyways?” ask Eva
“Sure.” Says Isabelle
“Nope. You’ve got to be a normal girl,
but when you’re in costume you can truly be magical, ok?” says Ophelia
“Ok… well, that’s what I want to talk
about though.” Says Eva
“Just let her pretend, you are
literally the worst pretender I’ve ever met Ophelia.” Says Isabelle
“Well, we can talk about what if we were magical girls, ok?
Because that’s totally a normal conversation that regular girls would have.”
Says Ophelia
“That’s not a conversation regular
girls would have.” Says Stacy dryly
“Stacy you are the furthest thing from
a normal girl imaginable, I’m pretty sure talking about being magical girls
would be like tenfold more normal that you on any given day.” Says Isabelle
“That’s ok, we can talk about it like
that and it will be just what I wanted, I’m so glad I found the other girls
with mood rings. God has been telling
me to find them at the park all afternoon and I was having no luck.” Says Eva
“You can’t say it like that, that
sounds like you’re being sarcastic, you’ve got to make everything seem normal
otherwise people might suspect you of being a magical girl, and then bad things
can happen, remember?” asks Ophelia
“I like it how this form of pretending
basically involves no pretending at all, you’re hardly pretending to be
anything at that point, you’re just being normal. I don’t see the problem in
just going full blown witch and shouting magic spells or whatever, that sounds
like a lot more fun.” Says Isabelle
“That’s not how it works in the books,
and that would totally be bad for her secret identity.” Says Ophelia
“We can still talk about what if we were magical girls, and that
will make me happy. I want to do it right. ” Says Eva
“I guess she’s as into those books as
you are. I can see why Stacy is so unentertained, I’m sure she would be hard
pressed to pretend to be normal.” Jokes Isabelle
“I like horses.” Says Stacy, unentertained,
feeling pinned down by the little girl and quite displeasured by it
“Jesus, Stacy. None of that. There is a
little girl here.” Says Jenna, mind collapsing, but too stoic to allow her fear
to take form
“What’s wrong with liking horses?” asks
Eva
“Nothing, forget about it.” Says Jenna
“I’m glad Ophelia is here, you two
aren’t having any of this play pretend stuff. I guess it makes sense, seeing
how you two are so enthralled by reality.” Says Grace
“It’s hard to break free of the
shackles of reality, sadly.” Says Jenna
“Tell that to Stacy.” Jokes Isabelle
“I’m still rooted in reality for the
most part.” Says Stacy, still dry
“What happened to pretending?” asks Eva
“It will be hard to convince those two
to play along, but we would love to. I’ll do my best at least, you’re a fun
little girl.” Says Isabelle
“Ok.” Says Eva, sitting beside Isabelle
“So we’re just normal girls talking about normal things.” Says Eva
“Yep.” Says Ophelia
“I feel like you executed this child’s
imagination. It’s heartbreaking.” Says Isabelle
“I want to do it right though, since
bad things could happen if I don’t.” says Eva
“Wow, you killed her imagination and
made her paranoid.” Says Isabelle
“It’s not paranoia if you live in Bay
City.” Says Grace
“Well, anyways, I just want to talk
about what if we were magical girls,
ok?” asks Eva, smiling cleverly
“That’s ok. I’m sure we’d all love to
have magical powers and stuff, but that’s totally crazy to think it would ever
happen to us.” Says Ophelia, proud of her own capacity to bend the truth
“Right, super crazy. But anyways, if you were a magical girl and you had one
wish to help you get magical powers, what would your magical power be?” asks
Eva
“I don’t know, I guess business
knowledge or something, I feel like capitalism is the only way to accomplish
anything, so if I could have magical skills to make me great at business that
would be great.” Says Isabelle
“No. It has to be for doing good deeds
and helping people and stuff, not just making money.” Says Eva
“Well, I would do good business stuff then, like the moral kind that makes people’s
lives better. I don’t know, what magical powers are there?” asks Isabelle
“I don’t know either.” Says Eva
“I would wish for the ability to change
society so that people can all live a better and more just life and fight
oppression.” Says Grace
“Who would have guessed?” Says Isabelle,
dryly
“That’s pretty good. What about you
girls that don’t want to pretend?” asks Eva
“Well, when the wish is limited to
doing good deeds and helping people, the first thing on the top of my mind
would be to wish to be able to help people, I’m not very clever either.” Says
Jenna, reluctant and pained by the conversation
“That’s a good one though.” Says Eva
“I’m glad you think so.” Says Jenna,
relieved with some form of sympathy
“Stacy’s next, this will be good.” Says
Isabelle excitedly, enjoying the pretending
Stacy sighs “I would wish for
omnipotence, if something was so kind as to grant that wish, but I doubt
anything exists that would do that, so I would settle for omniscience and then
later regret the fact I did so because apparently it can only be used to do
good deeds and I didn’t end up with any magic spells or anything.” Says Stacy
Isabelle laughs “That’s rich, the best
laid plans of mice and men, did you read that in one of those books book
somewhere?” asks Isabelle
“Regrettably, I feel like I would
gamble and lose every time, just like in that one book.” Says Stacy,
referencing a book that doesn’t quite exist
“Even though you know it would happen
like that?” asks Isabelle
“People buy lottery tickets every day,
it’s the same delusion.” Says Stacy, grimly
“I don’t know what those things are.”
Says Eva
“Omnipotence means that you can do
anything and everything, you have power over everything, and omniscience means you
just know everything. I don’t see why Stacy would even think to wish for
omniscience, I figured she would think she knows everything already.” Jokes
Grace
“I have confidence, but it is nothing
like divine omniscient confidence.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think the world could handle
you with that much confidence, I take it you’ve realized your whole hopes and
dreams of becoming supreme leader aren’t exactly doing good?” asks Isabelle,
chuckling
“I guess that depends on the opinions
of the wish granter, but who knows what those are.” Says Stacy
“Well, that’s kind of a weird wish, but
I’m sure you could totally make it work somehow. It sounds super powerful.”
Says Eva
“Trust me, Stacy more or less knows
everything and that doesn’t even help her in school, I would hate to see her
try to do some good deeds with her knowledge, dressed up like a witch, that’s
so out of character it’s hilarious.” Says Isabelle
“Stacy is kind of evil like a witch
though. Not that it’s bad, but kind of a cackling maniacal eating the bad
children kind of way.” Says Grace
Isabelle laughs heartily “Naughty
children!” shouts Isabelle through her laughter, causing her to crack up even
more “It’s too perfect, thank you little girl.” She says
“We’re good witches though, remember,
we’re not like Halloween witches or anything.” Says Eva
“You don’t know Stacy, but anyways.
That’s too great. Made my day and then some.” Says Isabelle, wiping a tear from
her eye,
“Then the last one is you, Ophelia.”
Says Grace
“I’m sure you could guess.” Says Ophelia,
a bit embarrassed
“I’m too embarrassed to say it.” Says
Isabelle, preemptively chuckling
“There’s nothing embarrassing about it,
the power of love is clearly super important and I’m sure tons of girls would
wish for it.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sure that couple that saw us is
happy that plenty of girls are still captivated by that stuff at this tender
age. That’s for sure.” Says Jenna
“I think that’s a good wish. What did
the couple say?” asks Eva
“They said that a cute little love
witch came and gave them a blessing that helped them fall in love even more and
now they’re getting married. It was super awesome to hear about a good witch
like that.” Says Ophelia
“Was that you? It had to be you.” Says
Eva
“Sadly, no. I’m not a witch, remember?
That would be a dream come true making people happy like that. They were so in
love it was beautiful.” Says Ophelia, more touched by the love than concerned
about her secret identity
“I’m sure plenty of people would have a
lot raunchier things to say than that, unfortunately for you.” Says Isabelle
“Please, Isabelle, respect the child,
we don’t need to talk about that.” Says Jenna, sternly
“Sorry, dad. I’ll be a good girl.”
Jokes Isabelle
“What are you talking about?” asks Eva
“Grown-up stuff.” Says Isabelle
“You’re not grown-ups though.” Says Eva
“Well, teenage girl things, you will
know when you’re older, don’t worry about it. Besides, we didn’t hear what you
would wish for yet, anyways.” Says Isabelle
“I would wish for the power to do
good.” Says Eva
“You are a clever girl, I’ll be
damned.” Says Stacy
“That’s it? Not like flying or talking
to animals or something?” asks Isabelle
“I can already talk to animals; I don’t
need to wish for that.” Says Eva
“That explains a lot to be honest.”
Says Grace timidly
“What do they say?” asks Isabelle
“I don’t know, they can just listen to
my thoughts and I can hear words about what they think about what I’m thinking
about and stuff, like when the birds talk, or even the wind and stuff.” Says
Eva
“That’s kind of cool, I guess.” Says
Isabelle
“You don’t think we should maybe like
tell her about what that is?” asks Grace
“If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, I
don’t see it causing problems. You should have learned by now after talking to
me that stating a point about someone’s mental state isn’t going to change a
damn thing about the point at hand.” Says Stacy
“Good point.” Says Grace
“That was a bunch of fun, thank you.
Our conversations are usually grim and bleak, but this one was great. I wish
you went to school with us, I’m sure we’d have a lot more fun.” Says Isabelle
“That would be super cool.” Says
Isabelle
“What school do you go to, anyways?”
asks Ophelia
“Saint Agnes” says Eva
“No way, all three of us went there.
It’s an awesome school.” Says Ophelia
“It’s ok.” Says Eva
“I’ll agree with ok, I’m not going to
give it awesome any time soon.” Says Stacy
“It was a good school, we were at least
mildly prepared for entering Southern Prep, I’m sure we would have been much
worse off in the publics.” Says Jenna
“That doesn’t make it awesome.” Says
Stacy
“You sure that’s not some magical girl
school where they train you to be witches?” teases Isabelle
“No. It’s a boring Catholic school; I
wish it was a school for witches. We’re not witches though, remember?” asks Eva
“Of course, I don’t want to ruin you’re
secret that you’re oh so good at keeping.” Teases Isabelle
“I’m trying now; I didn’t know I was
supposed to at first.” Says Eva
“It’s good that you’re trying, you
wouldn’t want to get hurt now.” Says Ophelia
“I know, thanks for teaching me something
important like that.” Says Eva
“I’m happy to help.” Says Ophelia
“Can I keep asking questions?” asks Eva
“Please, do. I love it.” Says Isabelle
“Ok, well then, what color would your
dress be and what kind of dress and what happens when you transform into a
magical girl?” asks Eva
“I don’t know anything about this part,
someone else start it.” Says Isabelle
“You first, you’re the one who wants
the questions.” Says Stacy
“Fine. I don’t know just like a
business formal kind of look, business black, a seductive yet powerful dress,
real sharp, nice shoes.” Says Isabelle
“Lame. What about the transformation
part?” Says the girl
“What happens during that part?” asks
Isabelle
“Well, things kind of fly around you
and you glow and stuff.” Says Eva
“Ok, I guess money or something you
know, I’d glow a beautiful gold. It would be great. Leaving the money on the
ground for the kids when I go into work.” Says Isabelle
“I’m going to agree that’s pretty
lame.” Says Grace
“Wow, at least I chose a dress, you
would be upset if you couldn’t wear pants. Tell us about your pantsuit, Grace.”
Teases Isabelle
“I don’t know, I would choose like a
grim reaper outfit or something then, and totally rain hell against all the
assholes, er, mean people who deserve it when I transform, that’s kind of dress
at least.” Says Grace
“That’s a robe, but close enough.” Says
Isabelle
“That’s super lame too; it’s supposed
to be cute.” Says Eva
“I think Grace would feel upset if
somebody thought she was cute, she would be quote unquote objectified at that
point.” Teases Isabelle
“I’m sorry I don’t want to doll myself
up so men can look at me like a piece of meat.” Says Grace
“Spare the child the rhetoric, try to
preserve her innocence.” Says Jenna
“Criticize the swearing, not somebody
attempting to help her feel dignified and respectable.” Says Grace
“I’m pretty sure the level of dignified
and respected you would have to be in order to actually feel that way is more
vulgar than swearing, to be honest.” Jokes Isabelle
“Tell that to the television censors.”
Says Grace
“I would censor it.” Jokes Stacy
“Regardless, the swearing is going to
hurt the girl more than having a sense of dignity.” Says Grace
“You don’t have a sense of dignity, you
attempt to force society to make you feel dignified yet you just disregard it every
time someone pretends to respect you because you expect to be treated like a
god damn queen even though you’re just some indignant bitch like every other
feminist. Come to terms with the fact that men in the workplace are also treated
like shit by the men who treat women like shit in the workplace; it’s not like
everyone pushing papers is fucking chummy with the money and spends all day
goosing women and drinking liquor in the office. Thinking you’re worthy of all
this special treatment and niceties is such bullshit when nobody in the world
gets those things, that’s like being indignant that you can’t fucking fly. It’s
just not how things work, people who are respected are few and far between, and
you expect to get treated like a queen because you’ve got a damn snatch, hell,
you’d even give the same privileges to guys with fake tits and mutilated dicks,
it’s fucking insane to be honest. Women are not that fucking special, nobody
is. You literally invent problems just so you can have an excuse to be mad at
men or whoever it is you don’t happen to like. It’s so damn trite.” Says
Isabelle
“Cheers to that. Respect is either
manipulation or fear, it’s best to see it for what it really is rather than as
some cheeky idealist bullshit that actually exists.” says Stacy, chuckling
“I’m happy I’m not 8 hours into my 12
hours shift at the sweatshop right now, so I’m just going to grateful for what
I have. I’m not getting into politics.” Says Jenna, taken aback
“I don’t want to start swearing in
front of the child so we can just drop it. You should be ashamed not only for
swearing like that, but also disrespecting women everywhere. You should
apologize to the girl for being so heartless.” Says Grace, triggered, but
repressing her rage skillfully out of her sense of respectability in front of
the child
“I was swearing like a sailor at her
age, we don’t even know her, she didn’t even flinch when I said those things so
I doubt it really bothers her.” Says Isabelle
“Yeah, you seem a little bit like a bitch, Grace. Like mean and pissy. I
know curse words too, you know. I’m not stupid either; I know what you’re
talking about. I hate the prissy girls who think they’re important and want to
be treated like queens. They can burn in hell.” Says Eva
“God damn.” Says Isabelle, completely
surprised, Stacy chuckles
“Don’t say that, it’s a mean word.”
Says Ophelia
“She cursed first.” Says Eva
“Two wrongs don’t make a right.” Says
Ophelia
“I’m sorry.” Says Eva, a bit ashamed of
herself thanks to the conditioning of Catholic school
“It’s ok, at least you’re sorry. My
friends curse all the time and it’s not super nice, but it hurts the most when
you call other people mean names, so try not to do that ok?” asks Ophelia
“I didn’t mean to.” Says Eva, looking
at the ground
“It’s ok, I’m proud of you. You’ve got
a good head on your shoulders. You call ‘em like you see ‘em and that’s all
good and well.” Says Isabelle
“Just don’t say those kinds of words at
school.” Says Jenna
“I know. I won’t say it again.” Says
Eva
“We’re not you’re parents, don’t feel
so bad. I thought it was funny.” Says Isabelle
“That’s good I guess.” Says Eva
“Still, let’s not curse, ok?” asks
Ophelia
“You all get to curse, though.” Says
Eva, softly with mild jealously
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just keep
going with the pretending, me and Grace had to embarrass ourselves, so now
we’re going around the table, it’s your turn Jenna.” Says Isabelle
Jenna sighs, “A black dress.” She says
“You look like you’re going to a
funeral, is pretending that painful to you?” teases Isabelle
“She will probably go purify her mind
with a textbook after all of this pretending.” Teases Stacy, coming to enjoy
the mutual understanding of the pretense at hand
“I think a black dress can look good,
what kind of dress. I forgot to say to
you two you’re supposed to have a witch hat or something at least, so you did a
really bad job.” Says Eva
“Sorry. I don’t think a witch hat is
exactly business formal, but I could probably pull of a homburg or something.
That might look decent.” Says Isabelle
“I think the reaper hood is pretty
close.” Says Grace
“Isabelle gets more points; she
actually has a hat at least. But anyways, what about your transformation?” asks
Eva
“Black birds flying around. I don’t
know.” Says Jenna
“Wow, so morbid.” Says Isabelle
“Ok, I don’t think you can glow black;
that would look super evil.” Says Eva
“I think a black dress and witch hat
looks pretty evil as it is.” Says Isabelle
“It can be cute.” Says Ophelia
“I guess Jenna could maybe pull it
off.” Says Isabelle
“I would glow purple and that’s it, I
don’t like pretending.” Says Jenna
“Something tells me you might be
depressed, Jenna.” Says Isabelle
“That’s a good guess, pretty close; I
wouldn’t say I’m depressed, just grimly realistic.” Says Jenna
“Maybe if it had some purple accents
and some white flares it would be super cute and not depressing or scary at
all.” Says Ophelia, playfully
“I think witches are set pretty firmly
in the scary category, if it’s a cute witch you can be sure she’s just even
more evil than normal.” Says Isabelle
“Thanks.” Says Jena, dryly
“Your turn Stacy, give us something
great.” Says Isabelle
“Ophelia can go first.” Says Stacy
“Saving the best for last I see.” Says
Isabelle
“Well, mine would be red, and pink and
white, mostly red, the color of true love of course, with some pink for cute
love and white for the other kinds of love like friends and family and god. It
would be super cute.” Says Ophelia
“You really thought about this one,
didn’t you?” asks Isabelle
“What kind of girl doesn’t think about
this kind of thing sometimes, especially when you are little?” Says Ophelia
“That’s a decent point I guess.” Says
Isabelle
“What about your transformation?” asks
Eva
“Well, a lovely fox cuddles me and some
doves fly overhead, and I would glow pink because I guess I’m mostly about the
cute kind of love, even though I totally want the true love.” Says Ophelia
“I’m glad somebody had a decent
answer.” Says Eva
“I’m glad you like it.” Says Ophelia,
enjoying the compliment
“Now for the moment we’ve all been
waiting for.” Says Isabelle, excitedly
“I don’t transform.” Says Stacy
“Well if you did, you know we’re pretending right?” asks Eva
“Yeah, I don’t know; a short tight red
dress or something.” Says Stacy
“Sexy.” Teases Isabelle
“Blood red.” Says Stacy
“No less sexy.” Jokes Isabelle
“Whatever. I’m done.” Says Stacy
“You’ve got to say what happens when
you transform.” Says Eva
“Even if we are pretending, I’m going to pretend
that I don’t transform at all.” Says Stacy
“You’re a poor sport, Stacy.” Says
Isabelle
“Well, pretend harder, I want to know.” Says Eva
“What happens when I transform? I don’t
know; the rapture.” Says Stacy, dryly
“That’s amazing, everyone had animals
or money or something.” Says Isabelle
“It’s fitting to say the least.” Says
Grace
“I don’t think so; you would definitely
wear a white dress. It would be super white like your hair, not red at all. I
can see the rapture part, like angels or something maybe.” Says Eva
“I doubt any angel would come close to
Stacy.” Teases Isabelle
“She’s pretty good at knowing the bible
and stuff, I’m sure if she tried she could find lines that explain her whole
crazy philosophy and make it seem good and right.” Says Ophelia
“I’d rather base my plans for a
functional society off of logic than faith, but that’s just me.” Says Stacy
“You can do both, you know.” Says
Ophelia
“I’ll do what I can.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know why you didn’t want to
tell me you wear a beautiful flowing white dress and angels fly by and put it
on you. That’s way better than some red dress.” Says Eva
“I’m not good at pretending, I don’t
know.” Says Stacy
“You should thank her, if anybody asks
you’ve got a great little transformation, what with the rapture and everything
coinciding.” Says Isabelle
“Super cute, if only we got to see
them. You two need to work on yours, but if you don’t know the normal ones from
stories it’s ok I guess.” Says Ophelia
“I’m sorry, I never was that type of
girl.” Says Isabelle
“Me neither, but I like it. It is
cute.” Says Grace
“I can show you if you want to see it.”
Says Eva
“You can’t because you have to keep it
a secret remember?” asks Ophelia
“Oh yeah, sorry.” Says Eva
“You didn’t tell us yours though.” Says
Isabelle
“Whoops. Well, it’s kind of boring,
like some kind of baby deer spirit turns into leafy vines and flowers and stuff
and some birds, I don’t know what kind of birds, but some of them are hummingbirds.
My dress is green, but not like super green or anything, like a tired boring
green, nowhere near as good as Stacy’s.” Says Eva
“I think that’s cute.” Says Ophelia
“I probably should have guessed it was
just some color of dress and some colorful things flying around, I’ll stand by
mine though, especially since I wished for business powers or whatever.” Says
Isabelle
“By the way, I thought Stacy’s first
dress was terrible, but you said it was sexy, what does that mean exactly?”
asks Eva
“Whoops. Yeah… well, that’s kind of an
adult thing, a slip of the tongue.” Says Isabelle
“I know what sex is, I just don’t know
what sexy means exactly.” Says Eva
“Don’t say sex, that’s a bad word, ok?”
says Ophelia
“Is sexy a bad word too?” asks Eva
“I don’t know.” Says Isabelle, confused
“No, I don’t think so. I think it’s
like how damnation and damnable are used and it’s not really cursing the same
way as just saying damn. I’ve read it in magazines and stuff plenty of times,
but they’re not talking about, you know.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know; my parents didn’t act
like it was super bad or anything.” Says Eva
“They already had that talk with you?”
asks Jenna
“Well, it wasn’t much of a talk, one
night I heard my mom making noises it sounded like she was hurt and so I went
in to check on her and my parents were naked and my dad was lying on top of
her. I asked if she was hurt and she said that she was ok, and they were just
having sex and it feels good and she likes it, so don’t worry, she’s not hurt
or anything. That’s about all I know.” Says Eva
“I think you might know more than
Ophelia at this point.” Says Isabelle
“I know that much, lying down and being
naked and stuff, but it’s still a bad word. Sex is like the bad thing boys want
to do with you. I know because I’ve been told tons of times if somebody says
they want sex I make sure to tell them no really loudly and clearly, a hundred
times if I have to.” says Ophelia
“That’s one way to do it.” Says
Isabelle
“I don’t see why it’s so bad if my mom
likes it.” Says Eva
“It’s not bad because your parents are
married, ok? Once they are married it is ok for them to do that, but it’s wrong
if you’re not married.” Says Jenna
“Ok. But it’s still a bad word?” asks
Eva
“You probably don’t want to talk about
it, like since you go to a Catholic school, I’m sure people would be upset.”
Says Isabelle
“Ok. What about sexy?” asks Eva
“That just means like clothes or
something that looks good, cute but in a mature kind of way.” Says Isabelle
“What does that have to do with sex?”
asks Eva
“It makes people want sex, so I’ll
leave it at that.” Says Isabelle, a bit embarrassed herself talking to a child
about these things
“So it’s bad?” asks Eva
“Yes, it seems like it would be bad,
unless you are married then its ok.” Says Ophelia
“Ok. So Stacy’s dress was a bad dress?”
asks Eva
“Yes, something that a bad girl would
wear, she’s naughty for thinking of something like that.” Teases Isabelle
“It sounded terrible anyways.” Says Eva
“I’ll wear the niqab next time, sorry
about that.” Jokes Stacy
“What is that?” asks Eva
“The all black robes and shawl that
covers everything but your eyes, it’s the dress that you see Muslim women
wearing sometimes.” Says Stacy
“Why would you wear that?” asks Eva
“It was just a joke about being
indecent or whatever, never mind.” Says Stacy
“Regardless, I usually don’t have much
faith, but if god is the reason why you came to delight me today, it makes me
think god might look out for actually look out for girl every now and again.”
Says Isabelle
“I’m glad you like God, most girls
think I’m weird.” Says Eva
“You go to a Catholic school and people
think you’re weird for believing in god?” asks Isabelle
“Not that, but like actually hearing God,
nobody else says they hear God.” Says Eva
“What do the teachers say about that?”
asks Grace, concerned for the child’s mental health
“They say that it’s good to listen to
God. I don’t really care about the other girls; I’ve got plenty of friends.”
Says Eva
“That’s good, at least some people
don’t think you’re weird for hearing God, that’s a great gift you know.” Says
Ophelia
“Not so much people, really, it’s
mainly like animals or the wind. They’ll always talk to me.” Says Eva
“That’s so cool that you can talk to
animals.” Says Ophelia
“That is kind of maybe not good, you
know. They don’t tell you bad things or anything, do they?” asks Grace, quite
concerned
“No, they’re all nice. The people are
the mean ones.” Says Eva
“If they ever say mean things make sure
you tell somebody, ok?” asks Grace
“I’m sure nobody would believe me
anyways.” Says Eva
“I believe you, and I’m sure an adult
would believe you.” Says Grace
“I like to think it’s my little secret.
Whenever I’m down the birds will cheer me up and the wind will be my friend.
It’s awesome I found some cool people like you all, though, everyone I know is
pretty lame.” Says Eva
“You come here often? I wouldn’t mind
finding a few more laughs with the playing the pretend game; it’s too serious
around this group of girls far too often.” Says Isabelle
“As much as I can, I love the park. I
have stupid choir practice tomorrow, and Tuesdays. Other that just church and
school, my parents want me to do sports sometimes, but I don’t like them; I’d
rather spend as little time with the other girls as possible.” Says Eva
“You don’t have any girlfriends?” asks
Jenna
“Not really. I’m a loner I guess. I
don’t mind, girls are boring and stupid anyways, the birds are like my best
friends.” Says Eva
“What do they like to talk about?” asks
Ophelia
“It’s like I’ll think of a question and
they will know the answer, or if there aren’t any birds the wind usually knows.
Other than that they’re just nice and like to talk about whatever I am thinking
about.” Says Eva
“You can just hear the birds talking,
like words or something?” asks Jenna
“Pretty much. I don’t know, I like
looking at clouds too, seeing all the shapes and stuff. Even if the birds
aren’t singing they can still tell me things just by flying around.” Says Eva
“Even just by flying?” asks Jenna
“Yeah, it’s a matter of perspective
really, like if I’m thinking something over like what to say to somebody at
school or just random ideas about my future while I’m laying back watching
clouds, the birds will fly in certain directions to tell me what they think. It’s really just any time I see birds they do
this based on what I’m thinking.” Says Eva
“What about like a big group of birds?
They will fly every which way.” Asks Isabelle, fairly interested
“Well, it’s like saying the idea has 20
parts of something, and you can tell if it will largely be successful or a
failure based upon which direction most of the birds fly.” Says Eva
“So you’re like a diviner, or
something?” asks Stacy
“I don’t know what that is.” Says Eva
“Basically what you are describing, so
far as I know.” Says Stacy
“Then I guess so, that’s a cool word
though.” Says Eva
“I’m pretty sure divining is not
exactly sanctioned by the bible, but as long as you’re not trying to make money
or sway nations, it’s not like you can really control it, so far as I can
tell.” Says Isabelle
“Nope, my mind just thinks the things,
the birds know instantly, and my mind just reads or hears the birds without
putting any effort into it.” Says Eva
“That’s so cool, do you talk to any
other animals?” asks Ophelia
“Dogs sort of, I don’t have one so I
don’t know them too well. Upset dogs tend to disagree, and the barking dogs are
the only ones you hear sometimes on the streets.” Says Eva
“You know animals don’t really talk,
right? Are you just imagining it, playing around or something?” asks Grace
“It’s not so much English, maybe a real
good songbird can do it, but they have their own language, even though they
know English, since they can read my mind, most of them don’t speak it. I would
explain, but I don’t want to upset my friends. I was talking to an owl once,
and it told me that I shouldn’t explain how reading the birds and talking to
them works. They want the people who know how it works to naturally discover it
the right way, the people who can naturally talk to birds or whatever. They
think it would mess with nature if randos were all trying to do it, shooting
their thoughts at them or whatever, I don’t know. At least the one owl talking
to me, I really want to respect that, since the birds are kind of my only
friends. It kind of makes sense, I figure since normal people don’t do it,
that’s why they don’t want me to turn others into spooks. I can hold a
conversation with birds easily, but I guess if it was everybody sitting at a
bench looking at a couple crows trying to talk to them, they couldn’t respond
to one person without confusing the other, maybe. I don’t know.” Says Isabelle
“I never knew birds could talk to
people and read minds like that, I guess God is super mysterious like that.” Says
Ophelia
“I don’t know if it’s the birds
themselves doing it, or God or something controlling them, but they are pretty
reliable. You can also use bats instead of birds if it is late at night, and
fireflies too, they are super easy to read, you just have to know how to read
your vision.” Says Eva
“You think fireflies can read your
thoughts?” asks Grace
“I’m sure that’s not what it is; it’s
kind of the whole hand of God controlling everything in that mysterious way. I
don’t even know if fireflies have brains.” Says Eva
“Me neither to be honest, but I think
that’s pretty cool that you can do all of that. Has it ever paid off, you know,
like you predicted the future or something?” asks Isabelle
“I think like the emotional kind of
support pays off more than the predicting stuff. Like the birds or the wind just
talking to me about whatever I’m thinking about. They feel like a family I
guess, always there for me, they’ll talk to me even if I was just thinking
about something random irrelevant from them; they’ll chime in sometimes if they
feel like it. It’s kind of cool; I guess it would be like what having friends
is like.” Says Eva
“Do the little birds use the same
language as crows?” asks Jenna
“No, they usually just say short little
things in English; they’re way better at talking with all of the highs and lows
of bird songs, the crows just have that one usual caw. Can’t say much with that,
but they can laugh a lot, or something, I don’t know. Crows are kind of hard to
understand compared to the little ones, an owl will give you a hoot or two or a
few, but the crows can caw forever it seems like, and groups only make it even
more confusing, even though their language is kind of similar to the owls,
maybe even the same, I don’t know it that well since it’s so far from English.”
Says Isabelle
“It seems weird that crows and owls
speak the same language, they’re so different.” Says Ophelia
“I think the owls are the ones that love
the truth, the crows seem to love foolishness and lies and stuff.” Says Eva
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard an owl,
but anyways, 3,000 years ago you would be very well respected, I don’t think
the market for diviners is too hot today, sadly.” Says Isabelle
“I’m pretty sure that fell out of favor
for a reason.” Says Grace
“The same reason as any other form of
taking advice, you either don’t like real advice or the person giving it
corrupts the actual results. It would be hard to be a diviner, you either get
killed because the king doesn’t like what you are telling him or you get killed
because you lied to him so he wouldn’t kill you but then doing so causes your
prophecy to be wrong.” Says Stacy
“You can’t really have faith in that
sort of thing, can you?” asks Grace
“It seemed to do pretty well for itself
for a healthy amount of time; I’m not going to shoot her down like that.” Says
Stacy
“I do see the point about becoming
corrupt and stuff, the wind and tells me about how my own mind can misinterpret
the birds if I would rather hear what I want or try to get the answer I want. I
think anyone can read the birds if they know how, though.” Says Eva
“I doubt it; most people can’t talk to
birds at all.” Says Jenna
“You don’t even have to talk to them;
you just read how they fly around.” Says Eva
“That still requires some form of
telepathy at the very least, but then you’re just controlling the birds with
your own thoughts, for it to be legitimate requires some preternatural intermediary
to influence the birds in the right way.” Says Stacy
“The amount of farfetched either of
those scenarios seems to be is well beyond even your usual level of fantasy.”
Says Jenna
“You need more faith, Jenna, you know
God performs miracles and gives people guidance and clarity every day.” Says
Ophelia
“I don’t see too much evidence of that,
sadly. People stray further from god’s light every day.” Says Jenna
“Well you have to really listen and
open your mind and heart in order to know what God wants you to do; then you
will feel it in your heart.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t even know if it is God, it
might just the wind or something, and the wind sounds like a woman, so I don’t
know.” Says Eva
“I would like to think it would be
Mother Nature doing that, if something like that is really possible, god is
usually pretty cruel to people.” Says Grace
“You never know to be honest, science
doesn’t know everything, but animals seem to have some ability to know things
instinctively, pigeons use magnetism to help them find their home. There could
be other unknown or unknowable things out there that actually make this
phenomena legitimate somehow, like the Earth’s magnetic field was hundreds of
years ago, but it really just comes down to faith.” Says Jenna
“I think it’s good to have faith in
that sort of thing.” Says Ophelia
“Just don’t rely on it too much; your
mind could easily just be playing tricks on you.” Says Grace“I don’t really
rely on it at all; it’s just something I notice.” Says Eva
“That’s good. With something like that
you never really know.” Says Grace
“You talk about hearing the wind and
birds, but not god so much, do you think the wind is god or something, or is
god something else?” asks Isabelle
“No, the wind is like my friend, she’s
a nice caring woman, God don’t talk much, he’s this spooky thing that talks a
lot clearer and kind of stern and inside
of your head. The wind just kind of whispers softly like she’s always half
dreaming but she really cares about you.” says Eva
“What does God say to you?” asks Grace,
still clearly concerned for the child’s sanity
“He just reminds me the same sort of
things sometimes; I don’t think I can talk about it.” Says Eva
“Is it something bad?” asks Grace
“I guess.” Says Eva
“It is important that you talk to us
about that; ok? We don’t want anything bad to happen to you.” Says Grace
“I don’t know. It’s not really like
normal stuff, so I don’t think I can.” Says Eva
“Is he telling you mean things?” asks
Grace
“I don’t think it’s mean, really, it’s
just kind of scary because he is super serious about it when none of my other
friends are that serious.” Says Grace
“If it is scary you need to tell us, we
can help you, ok?” asks Grace
“Well, you have to keep it a secret,
ok? That’s super important. I don’t think you will believe me anyways.” Says
Eva
“We will.” Says Ophelia, ignorant to
the existence of mental illness, Grace looks at her a bit concerned
“Well, the main thing he tells me to do
is to find the white witch and help her or else she is going to die and I’m
going to die if she dies, that’s why it’s scary.” Says Eva
“You don’t need to believe that stuff,
ok? An adult can help you get those bad thoughts out of your head if you talk
to them about it. Please, don’t be afraid to ask for help.” Pleads Grace
“It’s not like he says tomorrow, he
just says like an early grave or something, that could be in twenty years or
something, who knows.” Says Eva
“He’s not giving you much to work with,
but Stacy is pretty close to a white witch, cackling and evil, ghost pale. I
don’t think you want to help her though, you’re a nice happy girl and Stacy is
kind of out there compared to that.” Says Isabelle
“Well, I don’t know, I don’t meet that
many people with white hair so that’s kind of my best guess, I don’t mind
helping people anyways. What do you need help with, anyways?” asks Eva
“I’m not sure it’s ok to talk about
that right now.” Says Stacy
“Is it a secret?” asks Eva
“No. It’s not a secret, but I’m glad
she has the decency to attempt to preserve your innocence.” Says Isabelle
“If it’s not a secret I want to know,
I’m not that innocent anyways.” Says Eva
“She kind of wants to take over the
world, so you are probably better off helping somebody who can actually be
helped. Unless you want to put her into therapy, she’s probably impossible to
help.” Says Isabelle
“You know, my chances of success would
be remarkably higher if I had a skilled diviner.” Says Stacy
Isabelle chuckles “Already that
desperate?” she asks
“Maybe if she uses her birdwatching
skills to teach you common sense, you’d have a lot higher chance of not dying
at the hands of the establishment because of your crazy ambitions. Maybe god is
trying to save your life or something, who knows?” says Isabelle
“I think maybe we shouldn’t joke about
either one of their situations. You know this stuff can get a lot more serious
than it is now.” Says Grace
“I don’t need help, this girl is
clearly doing fine, I’m not going to have myself or her be brainwashed by
chemicals and the expectations of society. I enjoy being this way, and I’m sure
she does too.” Says Stacy
“You realize that sort of problem can
get a lot crazier and get out of hand, right? It may seem like a laugh now but
a few years down the line you might be like that homeless man in the box we saw
today. I don’t want that.” Says Grace
“I’m not even that kind of crazy.” Says
Stacy
“Some
people are” says Grace, staring at Stacy
“I’m not crazy” says Eva frowning
angrily, staring at Grace
“Ok. I’m sorry for hinting at that, but
I’m just saying it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Says Grace
“Just let the girls enjoy themselves,
what’s wrong with you. You realize that attempting to manipulate their
personalities into what society wants is the same thing as Babylon attempting
to force women into subservient or submissive roles. You’re a hypocrite at that
point. Who’s to say what’s actually correct in that matter?” Says Isabelle
“Sanity is not defined by anything
other than the ideal mental state for a person who is the slave of Babylon. I’m
glad I’m not a sheep and willing to give the man what he wants for free, I’m
not some sick submissive masochist like that.” Says Stacy
“Anyways, forget about it. I shouldn’t
have told you. I don’t know if I can help you conquer the world, but I can
maybe try or something I don’t know.” Says Eva
“I think you’d be better off finding
another white haired girl to help, you picked the worst one in the world.” Says
Isabelle
“I only found old people with white
hair so far and they told me they weren’t witches, so I didn’t want to help
them.” Says Eva
“Tell her you’re not a witch, Stacy.
You can’t have her believing in this stuff.” Says Grace
“I’d rather not send her out talking to
strangers all day, I think if I can play this role she’d at least be in good
hands.” Says Stacy
“Stacy is the closest thing to a witch
I’ve ever met in my life, so who knows, something good might come out of it. A
diviner is commanded by god and comes to save the witch possessed by demons,
just like the bible.” Jokes Isabelle
“Stacy’s not a witch, of course, but it
would be super cute if she had a little helper who reminds her of God’s will.”
Says Ophelia
“I don’t know if I can do that, maybe
the birds or wind, God doesn’t talk to me very much.” Says Eva
“Well, the birds and the wind are all
parts of God, so it’s the same thing.” Says Ophelia
“I need to take more crazy pills, this
is painful.” Says Grace
“Write a letter to the Department of
the Interior telling them to increase the scopolamine in the chemtrails over
Bay City; I’m sure nobody would mind.” Says Stacy
“This is what I’m talking about. Why
would we let a child be influenced by Stacy like that?” asks Grace
“I’m sure that the insane consensus is
a lot safer to embrace than one’s own personal insanity, the constituents who
provide the consensus tend to stay alive at the very least.” Says Jenna
“Lighten up Grace, you can’t let the
majority of the city cause you to have a mental breakdown because of your
righteous sympathy, that’s probably the least healthy mental state out of all
of us. At least we’re not driven by idealism to attempt to impossibly warp and
contort reality. Facts of life are facts of life, if you change all of them you
don’t even have life anymore, it’s just a population of rigid machine pressed
people with a monoculture of ideas. Even if you’re sense of entitlement to
perfection was the purest form of rightness, the world would be boring as
hell.” Says Isabelle
“Heres to flavor. Variety is the spice
of life, is it not?” asks Stacy
“There comes a point where you are
doing nothing but eating spices, you need some sustenance.” Says Grace
“Meat and potatoes are the devil,
grains and sugar are Satan, and spices are the panacea, few would argue with
that logic in this great state. Just enough sustenance to survive seems to be
the popular idea, amongst the plutocrats who starve the poor and the rich who
starve themselves out of vanity. To take any more sustenance than that you
become a glutton and are shamed relentlessly by society.” Says Stacy
“It’s
a shame that people feel that way, it’s not even gluttony. People think people
who drink and smoke and do drugs are just fine and dandy, but if somebody is
overweight it’s appalling. Those things destroy your body even more on the
inside; it’s hypocritical to tolerate that sort of thing.” Says Grace
“It’s doesn’t matter who you are on the
inside, all that matters is who you are on the outside. Out of everyone you
interact with, the handful of people who even experience who you are on the
inside are outliers, as long as you’re shallow enough to be indifferent to
personal fulfillment like most people, you shouldn’t give a damn about who you
are on the inside.” Says Stacy
“Welcome to America.” Says Jenna
“Every time you open up to somebody you
just get hurt, at least for me, so I keep myself to myself and just try to
appear normal enough on the outside to everybody else.” Says Eva
“You are wise beyond your years.” Says
Stacy
“You seem to have forsaken that wisdom
a long time ago.” Says Jenna
“All of my peopley parts were feeble
and weak so they were enhanced with mechanical supports, I don’t need to rely
on other people to support me when the mechanics that brace my mind, body, and
soul are so structurally sound. Humans are fickle and weak, far more prone to
failure than machines. By basing my philosophy on the physical measurements of
social mechanics I don’t need the long winded idiocy of the shameless airs of
ignorant idealists to fly my kite and feel good about myself because I fit in
with society when my kite flies just like all the other kids: I fly an
airplane, a jet fighter instead.” Says Stacy
“Seems to be more of a bomber fond of
the carpet variety, from what I can tell.” Jokes Jenna
“I have surgical precision with my
bombing, thank you very much.” Says Stacy
“Maybe 300 years ago you could call
that surgical precision when surgery consisted exclusively of amputation and
cauterization.” Says Jenna
“Even if that were the case, I offer a
better alternative to dying from gangrene.” Says Stacy
“Dying from a cauterization infection,
I can see your point.” Says Jenna
“The best solution possible does not
guarantee success; it is simply action with the highest rate of success. It is
either a guarantee of death or a high likelihood of death, take your pick.”
Says Stacy
“I sure am dying right now, along with
the rest of society.” Says Jenna, sarcastically
“Everything lives, and everything dies,
it is the circle of life. The establishment is a living thing, so it is fated
to die; it is old, feeble, and sick right now. It is not hard to acknowledge
that point. I simply seek to use this dying manifest infected with corruption
to usher in a new, healthy, and beautiful society.” Says Stacy
“So you’re like a virus?” asks Jenna
“A mushroom, perhaps, and when the time
comes I’m sure something might just come along and consume the rotting mushroom
that fell over and grow a pretty little flower.” Says Stacy
“Stacy the mushroom queen.” Says
Isabelle, chuckling
“Perhaps just the spore, but who knows.
I simply understand something called mortality which the fools amongst us fail
to understand in the slightest.” Says Stacy
“It’s probably about time that I get
out of here, it’s getting kind of late. I feel bad about leaving the child in
your hands, but I hope the more reasonable two of you three will be able to
keep things under control.” Says Grace
“I’d shake my fist at the sun, but I
know it’s no use. It’s about that time, sadly, seeing how me and Grace live in
the opposite direction of this place. It truly was a hoot, you know. Eva you
must be an angel or something because you brightened up my day to no end. Do
you have a phone or something, so we can get together again? If you’re here to
save Stacy’s life I’d feel bad if you didn’t join our little gaggle every now
and again.” Asks Isabelle
“No, I don’t. Sorry.” Says Eva
“Damn, we’ll have to come back to the
park and find you then.” Says Isabelle
“I won’t be here tomorrow, but I don’t
know other than that. I will look for you when I come though; it’s not that big
of a place.” Says Grace
“Awesome. I want to do more playing
pretend, something cute and embarrassing. It was too rich. Think of something,
ok?” asks Isabelle
“I’ll try. It was great to meet you,
you’re the cool one. I’ve never met somebody that’s actually fun to be around.”
Says Eva
“I might say the same thing, but I’ve
got a twisted enough sense of fun that I enjoy hanging around these girls,
oddly enough. Not as wholesome as it could be, though.” Says Isabelle, getting
up
“You make sure you keep talking to us
about god and the birds and stuff, ok? That’s really important to me.” Says
Grace
“Whatever. I’m not crazy.” Says Eva,
rolling her eyes
“I know, I just want to make sure they
don’t tell you to do anything bad or hurt your feelings ok?” asks Grace
“Where was this compassion for the
homeless man we saw?” jokes Isabelle
“There’s a huge difference, but still.
Everything will be ok, there are no witches and you’re not going to die, ok?
Can I hug you, will you feel better?” asks Grace
“I feel fine, you’re just kind of weird,
you know?” asks Eva
“She is super weird, I’ll give you
that.” Says Isabelle
“Everybody likes hugs though.” Says
Ophelia
“I don’t really want to hug somebody
who thinks I’m crazy.” Says Eva
“That’s fine; I didn’t mean to upset
you like that. Please don’t put too much faith in Stacy either; she might make
you crazy if you’re not already.” Says Grace, as the girls get up
“I’m not your kid, ok? You don’t need
to act like this.” Says Eva
“She’s the one who’s crazy, she’s got
some kind of sickness with sympathy or something.” says Isabelle
“Clearly.” Says Eva, Stacy chuckles
“Let me get a handshake at least, it
was a pleasure after all.” Says Isabelle
“I’d give you a hug if you want, since
you’re actually friendly.” Says Eva
“Awesome.” Says Isabelle, hugging the
girl amiably “Don’t ever change, ok? Don’t let mean people like Grace call you
crazy, you’re awesome the way you are.” She says
“Thanks.” Says Eva, hugging Isabelle
back warmly, comforted by having an actual friend
“Can I give you a hug? You’re super
cute and fun, you know.” Says Ophelia
“Ok, you’re nice, so I’ll let you hug
me.” Says Eva
“Yay.” Says Opheila excitedly, who goes
over to hug the girl, quite happy to make a new friend
“Can I have a hug, Ophelia I’m kind of
hurt now.” Says Grace, with pouty frown
“Of course.” Says Ophelia, going to hug
Grace warmly, Grace holds on to her when she attempts to release, Ophelia looks
at her, Grace kisses her softly, unable to resist such temptation
“Jesus Christ, Grace. There is a little
kid here.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t care.” Says Eva
“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I’ll
see you later, be good, ok?” Says Grace, smiling warmly
“Of course.” Says Ophelia
“Bye Ophelia. I’ll see you later, sorry
about Grace.” Says Isabelle
“I don’t mind, it’s fun you know. Do
you want a hug too?” asks Ophelia
“Why not, you’re huggable, you know?”
says Isabelle
“Aww. Thanks. You are too, I think
everybody’s huggable.” Says Ophelia, hugging Isabelle firmly, Isabelle growing
less embarrassed by the new custom of having her face platonically smashed into
somebody’s breasts
“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Says
Isabelle, finally released
“Ta-ta for now.” Says Stacy, smiling
with the two finger salute and a wink
“Til tomorrow. We should probably get
going too, you know.” Says Jenna
“Can we play pretend a little bit more, please?” asks Eva, excitedly
“I don’t know.” Says Jenna, timidly
“Damn it, of course I’ve got to miss
this one. Save some for me, ok?” asks Isabelle
“Don’t worry; we can do this a lot.”
Says Eva
“Thank god. You all have fun with the
girl, she deserves it. Take it easy.” Says Isabelle
“We’ll do our best.” Says Jenna, as the
two walk away
“Is she like your girlfriend or
something?” asks Eva
“I think we’re all girlfriends, I think
even you are part of that group now.” Says Ophelia
“What? No. Not like that.” Says Eva
“What do you mean?” asks Ophelia
“Like the kissing part.” Says Eva
“Well, she’s like my friend friend, you
know, where the rest of us are like buddy friends. Friend friends like to kiss
each other because it’s fun and to practice for boys and stuff, the other girls
aren’t mature enough to like it, but I think it’s fun.” Says Ophelia, Stacy and
Jenna look around a bit embarrassed
“So she’s like your girlfriend
girlfriend, and we’re just like normal buddy girlfriends.” Says Eva
“You can say it like that, we are girls
and we’re friends.” Says Ophelia
“So you’re like dating or something?
Like boyfriend girlfriend?” asks Eva
“Well, maybe if I was a boy, but I’m
not a boy so we can’t date or anything.” Says Ophelia
“Yes you can.” Says Eva
“I mean like a date date, that has to
be a boy and a girl, not like play date or something.” says Ophelia
“Let’s just avoid the topic, no they
aren’t dating, they just do those things.” Says Jenna
“I think you could do better than
that.” Says Eva
“She’s the only person I’ve found with
any interest in that kind of thing, so I think I’m pretty lucky to have to
somebody with similar interests, you know?” says Ophelia
“I guess. Anyways. Since those girls
are gone, you know why I wanted talk, right? We don’t have to pretend anymore,
right?” asks Eva, a bit serious
“Of course. I’m so glad you picked up
on my hints and didn’t blow our cover, you know. That would be bad.” Says
Ophelia
“So you three really are magical girls,
like I thought?” asks Eva
“Don’t tell anybody, for the love of
god.” Says Jenna, embarrassed, distressed, and a bit angry with the situation
“You’re quite the sleuth, the first one
that’s ever found out about it, other than my sister who we can’t really hide
it from because our room is kind of like our secret base.” Says Stacy
“Yeah, I mean it was super hard, I’ve
been looking for days and it took God telling me that I would find you at the
park. I’m glad I found you though, I kind of believe God about the part about
us dying you know.” Says Eva
“I don’t know. We kind of do dangerous
things, so you might not want to tag along.” Says Stacy
“Well, I don’t know. I was just told we
will die young if we don’t work together, I’m sure you can just call me one day
if you really need help or something. I will get a phone sooner or later; I
just told my parents I don’t need one because I don’t have any friends or
anything.” Says Eva
“Now you have us though, so we could
all chat with each other.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t chat much.” Says Jenna
“Same. Business use only.” Says Stacy
“I’m usually talking to the wind or the
birds or something, so I don’t try to talk to anybody on the phone either.”
Says Eva
“That works.” Says Stacy
“But, really, you know, I want to see
you transform and stuff, I’ve never met another magical girl before.” Says Eva
“I don’t know about that, it’s kind of
crowded here.” Says Jenna
“Come on, we can do it behind the
bathroom like we did before. It will be super fun.” Says Ophelia
“It’s pretty late to get started on
that sort of thing, you know. We do have to get home soon enough.” Says Stacy
“Come on; let me see it at least.” Says
Eva
“You first, since we have to know if
you really are a magical girl or whatever.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know, how do I know I’m not
being tricked like we talked about.” Says Eva
“That’s a good point, but if you
promise to keep it a secret, I will go first, ok?” asks Ophelia
“Awesome.” Says Eva
“Very quickly, just show her and let’s
go. I don’t want to do this today.” Says Jenna
“Ok.” Says Ophelia
“I see your rings are all white
already, like you don’t need to do any good deeds today.” Says Eva
Stacy chuckles nervously, “Yeah, that
seems to be the case.” She says
“Anyways, let’s go. I want to see her
transform so bad, I’m sure it’s awesome.” Says Ophelia
“Quickly.” Says Jenna, impatiently; the
two excited girls lead the way to the back of the restrooms along the outskirts
of the park, a rather dense wall of healthy leafy trees and brushes separating
the park from the pain of the city streets
“Ready?” asks Ophelia, excitedly
“Of course.” Says Eva, equally excited,
Ophelia transforms with the usual spectacle, being sure to pose, point the
scepter, and wink at Eva
“No way!” says Eva, excitedly
“Quiet. Please.” Pleads Jenna
“That’s so cool, you even get a little
rod or something.” says Eva
“I know, right? Let me see you, I’m
super excited.” says Ophelia
“Ok.” Says Eva who jumps into the air
spinning, a verdant green light shines behind her as her clothes turn into
glowing light while an ethereal emerald fawn rubs against her which turns into
dust as it rubs against her side, the dust turns into more realistic leafy
vines encircle her begin to flower with vibrant colors, hummingbirds fly around
her, the leaves and flowers fly away in the wind revealing a faded green summer
dress, looser, more flowing and natural
as opposed the sharp lines of the other girls’ dresses, couple of parakeets
over her and drop a matching witch hat on her head, that also flops over a
little bit with the same loose nature of her dress, as opposed to the rather
stiff points of the other girls’ hats. She lands in a pose as if to say ‘ta-da’
staring at Ophelia excitedly.
“Oh my gosh!” says Blaze “That was so
pretty.” She says
“I don’t know why mine looks kind of
loose and stuff, yours is so tight and sharp, I kind of look like a weird
hippie witch.” Says Eva
“My
name is Blaze, when I’m like this, because of the fiery fox and what not, so we
need to find a good name for you, ok? It’s super important to never use
somebody’s real name when they transform.” says Blaze
“I don’t know what my name should be.”
Says Eva
“How about Bambi, because of the deer,
you know?” asks Stacy
“That’s so cute. It has to be Bambi;
everybody else’s was based off of their animals.” Says Blaze
“I like it. It’s cute.” Says Bambi
“Now you two go, ok?” asks Bambi
“Just for like one second and I’m
changing back.” Says Jenna, who transforms reluctantly
“Happy? If you ever see me like this my
name is Raven, and you, nor anybody else has ever met anybody named Jenna ever,
ok?” asks Raven, sternly
“Ok.” Says Bambi
“Good.” Says Raven, who transforms back
“That’s all? No magic adventure?” asks
Bambi
“Not today. It’s late; I don’t like
doing it anyways.” Says Jenna
“I don’t blame her.” Says Stacy
“Now it’s your turn Stacy.” Says Bambi
“I was being serious; I don’t know how
to transform.” Says Stacy
“Come on. Just spin around and jump,
I’m sure you can do that.” Says Eva
Stacy jumps and spins in the air “See?
Nothing. I’ve tried plenty of times before. I think it’s because my magic works
even if I’m not transformed that I don’t get to transform, since I don’t need to
do it.” Says Stacy
“Lame.” Says Bambi
“Hopefully she learns how to do it one
day, I would love to see angels fly around her and put her in a beautiful white
dress. That has to be her transformation, it’s too perfect.” Says Blaze
“I’m sure it’s just seagulls or
something, everybody else had their color. If mine is white it’s got to be
seagulls, maybe some geese or something.” says Stacy
“That sounds more accurate.” jokes
Jenna
“So how do you go out and do magic or
whatever if you don’t have a witch outfit?” asks Bambi
“I’ve got my own costume, don’t worry
about it. It’s not interesting. Knowing things is a pretty boring power after
all.” Says Stacy
“Sounds like it. You want to see my
magic?” asks Bambi
“You can actually see your magic?” asks
Jenna
“Of course. You can’t see yours?” Says Bambi
“Not really, not that I know of at
least. All I’ve figured out how to do is heal people and scare children I
guess, I don’t think the second part is magic.” Says Jenna
“That’s cool, I guess. Even you…
Blaze?” asks Bambi, grinning, enjoying the witch names
“No, I can just feel it, it’s love; I don’t
think you can really see love, it’s kind of invisible you know.” Says Blaze
“That kind of makes sense. I’ll show
you what I can do.” Says Bambi, who clasps her hands together and throws them
towards the sky, a little ethereal green bird flutters out of her hands and
flies away into the city
“That’s cool, but what does the bird
do?” asks Stacy
“I don’t know. I just know how to make
them, and they fly away, and my ring ends up being white. They must do good
things I guess.” Says Bambi
“Have you ever tried to make it do
something specific?” asks Jenna
“Not really, I just kind of learned
when I was trying to do magic tricks, and somehow my ring started glowing.
That’s what I’ve been doing. I’ve only been a magical girl for like a week.”
Says Bambi
“Well, let’s go try it on somebody, If
your power is doing good, I’m sure it can make people smile and be happy or
stop them from being upset, that would all be good.” Says Blaze
“Ok.” Says Bambi
“We will hang behind, we don’t want to
blow our cover, ok?” says Jenna
“You’re missing out.” Says Ophelia,
excitedly
“That’s fine with me.” Says Jenna, as
Bambi and Blaze peek out from behind the bathroom, Stacy and Jenna hang behind
for a moment before watching them from a safe distance
The two witches notice a man yelling at
a woman in the distance.
“Maybe you can help that guy not be so
upset, maybe your little bird will make him a nicer person.” Says Ophelia
“I don’t know how to do it exactly.”
Says Bambi
“Just like normal, and maybe think
exactly that guy and doing good, I think the magic is all controlled by how you
think, you know?” asks Blaze
“I guess. I’ll try.” Says Bambi, who
clasps her hands, and opens them, a small green ethereal wasp flies out of her
hands and slowly begins to move towards the man
“I don’t know, that might be bad, I’ve
never made a wasp before.” Says Bambi
“I’m sure it can’t be bad, you’re power
is doing good, remember, maybe it will whisper something in his ear to help
him.” says Blaze
“Probably.” Says Bambi
The girls patiently wait for the minute
or so it takes for the wasp to speed at breakneck wasp speed towards the man,
it eventually finds its target. The man collapses to his knees, clutching his
heart as he falls forward, supporting himself with his arm, screaming for the
few moments he can before his throat and eyes swell up, he rolls over onto his
back and starts kicking his legs into the ground, clawing at his chest and
throat before lapsing into complete convulsions, slamming his head against the
ground forcefully and repetitively.
“Oh my god.” Screams the shocked woman,
the man’s convulsions increase in fervor as his eyes roll back into his head
and the pressure in his eye sockets causes him to weep blood. His convulsions
soon stop, his skull bleeding from behind and as final breath coughs up blood
that splatters over his face and shirt.
“Somebody get help! I think he’s dead!”
shouts the woman
“Uh-oh.” Says Bambi
“That’s not good.” Says Blaze
“Get back here and change back right
now!” whispers Jenna very upset
“Let’s do that.” Says Bambi, the girls
run back behind the bathroom and transform back
“What happened?” asks Ophelia, very
concerned and confused
“I don’t know, I just thought about
doing good, but that happened.” Says Bambi, shocked but seeing no blood on her
own hands
“I’m sure that guy might have really
hurt or killed that woman, so I’m sure the best thing you could do is save her
life from such a bad man. I saw him, he was really angry and grabbing her and
stuff. Don’t let it worry you, ok?” Says Stacy, impressed but also very afraid
of the revelation of true witchcraft
“Ok. I mean, we’re just pretending
right. I didn’t really do anything.” Says Eva
“Of course. Even if it was that witch
who did those things, you’re not a witch, you’re a little schoolgirl,
remember?” asks Jenna
“Yeah. Of course. That was scary, but I
don’t know why it made a wasp instead of a bird like normal. I’m sure the birds
do nice things, birds are always nice to me.” Says Eva
“I think it might be because you
thought about doing good in regards to that man explicitly, and that was the
only good thing that could be done, since he was a really bad guy, you know. He
couldn’t be helped by a bird telling him the right thing to do or whatever.”
Says Stacy
“That makes sense. I kind of feel bad
about it, but if it really saved that woman’s life I guess I did the right
thing.” Says Eva
“Your ring is glowing white, so you
know you did the right thing. You stopped somebody from being hurt, even if it
meant hurting a bad person, you still saved the good one.” Says Ophelia
“I guess you’re right.” Says Eva
“Let’s get out of here, ok? Just a
normal day, none of this happened, and we weren’t a part of it, remember?” asks
Jenna
“Does bad stuff like that ever happen
to you guys when you do magic?” asks Eva
“Not that I can think of, but our magic
isn’t anywhere near as strong as yours, you know.” Says Ophelia
“Oh well, that’s kind of scary that I
have super powerful magic for some reason.” Says Eva
“Just be responsible, ok? With great
power comes great responsibility.” Says Jenna
“I will.” Says Eva
“But you don’t have magical powers,
none of us do, remember?” asks Stacy, as the girls approach a more populated
area of the park
“Yeah, sorry, I forgot, I was just
imagining things.” Says Eva, doing her best to keep this secret
“What a long day, we should really get
out of here like right now. I don’t like being here when we’re just doing silly
things, but after seeing something like that, it’s pretty scary to think we
might be recognized.” Says Jenna
“Nobody saw anything, relax, ok?” asks
Stacy
“I’m going to calm myself by taking
your word for it; don’t betray my trust, Stacy.” Says Jenna
“I never would.” Says Stacy, as the
girls walk towards the exit of the park
“Are you ok? After all of that?” asks
Jenna
“I guess. I don’t know.” Says Eva
“You know that it’s ok, even if
something like that happens, because you’re doing good, remember?” asks Stacy
“Yeah. I know. I guess that guy must
have been really bad or something. I think it’s kind of good that now I know I
can try to do something like that if somebody tries to hurt me, like you said
might happen.” Says Eva
“Yeah. I’m starting to believe that you
might actually save my life one day, I don’t know how I can save yours, but it
must be fate or something.” says Stacy
“I think if you know a lot of stuff,
like everything or whatever, you can just think of the things that will come
try to kill me and let me know so I don’t die.” Says Eva
“I will do my best. You will definitely
be on my list of concerns. I didn’t know magic could be that strong, but that
was something else.” Says Stacy
“I need more practice; I didn’t want to
hurt that guy.” Says Eva
“I’m sure it was God’s will, you know.
We’re servants of God, after all.” Says Ophelia
“You think so?” asks Eva
“Of course.” Says Ophelia
“I got my ring from a dog, it wasn’t
like a priest or God or anything.” Says Eva
“But Mr. Dog is a servant of God
because he wants to do good and stop evil, I’m sure of it.” Says Ophelia
“That makes sense. You got your rings
from the dog too?” asks Eva
“Yep. In that same park.” Says Ophelia
“Maybe there are a lot of other witches
out there.” Says Eva
“I guess if we see any other girls with
rings who hang out at the park we will know. I kind of don’t want to know, to
be honest.” Says Jenna
“I don’t know, maybe they can help us.”
Says Eva
“It’s pretty dangerous, if people find
out what we do they would want us dead.” Says Jenna
“Why would they want you dead? Don’t
you just heal people? Doesn’t Ophelia just spread love or whatever?” asks Eva
“People fear what they don’t
understand, you have to be especially careful, if the word spreads that you can
do something like that, all sorts of people would want you under their control,
but they probably understand that doing so is too dangerous so they would just
kill you.” Says Stacy
“That’s super scary. Make sure you
don’t tell anybody.” Says Eva
“We won’t.” Says Ophelia
“We’re in the same position as you are.
Well, at least I am, and my girls kind of get dragged along with me. Even if
they only healed people and spread love, you know somebody would eventually
kill them because they would feel upset that Jenna couldn’t save somebody’s
life or Ophelia wasn’t able to save a marriage or whatever.” Says Stacy
“Raven. Raven does that, not me.” Says
Jenna
“Sorry.” Says Stacy
“You know you don’t have to pretend
around us.” Says Eva
“I don’t like to think about that
unless I have to. It’s a huge burden to be honest.” Says Jenna
“Why?” asks Eva
“Because if I don’t keep the dog happy,
I know he will come to eat me.” Says Jenna
“That’s it? I don’t know, I always
thought it was easy to keep my ring white.” Says Eva
“Well, you just have to send out little
birds, from what I can tell, we actually have to go deal with people. Jenna
doesn’t like to do that part.” Says Ophelia
“What about you Stacy, how do you help
people with your knowledge or whatever?” Says Eva
“Well, I just kind of reveal the truth
in important ways. You know. I don’t want to talk about it.” Says Stacy
“Like what?” asks Eva
“Well, I did help a woman find out she
had breast cancer one time.” Says Stacy
“That’s nice. I’m sure you feel a lot
better that you have good magic that doesn’t hurt people. I feel kind of bad
about what I did to be honest.” Says Eva
“Don’t feel bad, ok? You did a good
thing.” Says Ophelia
“I had to hurt somebody one time, somebody
who didn’t want to listen to the truth, so don’t think you’re the only one.”
Says Stacy
“Did you use magic or something? Who
doesn’t want to know the truth anyways?” asks Eva
“Well, liars don’t want to know the
truth, or at least they don’t want people to know the truth. But yeah, I did
kind of use my magic to hurt them, but they would have hurt me or other people
if I didn’t hurt them first.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. I guess it’s ok if we
only hurt bad people, I don’t really like people that much anyways. You girls
are different though, I really like you. I’m just saying the police do that
stuff too, and they are good people.” Says Eva
“Exactly.” Says Stacy
“Well, me and Ophelia have to go this
way, it was a very crazy day, but I’m glad that we kind of figured everything
out. Please be good, ok? I hope I can trust both of you to take care of
yourselves.” Says Jenna
“Don’t worry. My power is doing good,
remember?” Says Eva, proudly
“Sometimes you don’t have to do good
deeds to be good, you can just behave well and be nice. Don’t go overboard or
anything, ok? You know how important secrecy is now.” Says Jenna
“Thanks for teaching me that. I didn’t
think much of it, but after learning all of that stuff and seeing the kind of
bad side today, I can understand all of that.” Says Eva
“I don’t want to leave; I did have a
lot of fun even with the kind of bad part. I want to see you again, ok?” asks
Ophelia
“Ok.” Says Eva
“Time for hugs.” Says Ophelia, going to
hug Stacy, who coldly hugs her back with murderous duty and platonic love for a
fellow blood-drenched soldier
“You want another one?” asks Ophelia
“You’re not going to kiss me, are you?”
asks Eva
“Not unless you want one.” Says Ophelia
“Maybe on the cheek is ok. You said you
liked it. That’s the normal kind of friend kiss, you know.” Says Eva
“Ok.” Says Ophelia, who hugs Eva and
kisses her cutely on the cheek, Eva hugs her back finding solace in the
newfound solidarity after such a harrowing experience
“That’s not how you do it. That was
like a mom kiss. Let me kiss you, ok?” says Eva
“Ok.” Says Ophelia, Eva holds her head
kisses her lightly on each cheek “That’s how you’re supposed to do it, it’s
Italian. My grandpa is Italian and he does that to everybody.” She says
“Kissing is so fun.” Says Ophelia, who
copies the style of Eva’s Italian kissing with more emphasis
“You’re still doing it like a mom, you
know. It’s real quick and light, I think you only do that if you really like
the person. Like he will kiss me like that but his friends it’s quick, way less
kissing.” Says Eva
“But I do really like you.” Says
Ophelia, sincerely
“What? I’m a little young you know.”
asks Eva, embarrassed
“Not like that. Please. Don’t think of
her like that. She’s just friendly.” Says Jenna
“As long as it’s not like that, it’s
fine. You do seem a lot like a mom, you know.” Says Eva
“Thanks. I want to be a mom one day.”
Says Ophelia
“Really? Don’t you need a boyfriend for
that?” asks Eva
“I know. It’s hard to find one though.
Every time I meet a guy he’s totally a bad guy according to my friends, so I’m
just bad at it.” Says Ophelia
“I thought you liked girls.” Says Eva
“Of course I like girls, what’s not to
like about them?” asks Ophelia
“I mean, like like, instead of boys.”
Says Eva
“It’s not the same at all, I like
girls, but I would totally fall in love with the right guy.” Says Ophelia
“So you’re just having fun with your
girlfriend or something, it’s not serious or anything?” asks Eva
“Who Grace?” asks Ophelia
“Yeah…” says Eva
“I don’t know, Grace is serious a lot
of the time, but Grace still likes to have fun with me at least. She is willing
to show me her fun side, even if the other girls don’t like that sort of
thing.” Says Ophelia
“That’s ok, I guess. Kind of weird, but
whatever floats your boat.” Says Eva
“You seem to know a lot about that sort
of thing.” Says Stacy
“Yeah, it’s pretty popular on
television, there’s always a character like that. I think it’s illegal if you
don’t have one.” Says Eva
“I think that’s kind of true, since the
whole equal opportunity thing. I know it used to only be normal white people.”
Says Jenna
“An equal number of opportunities for
each part of the population regardless of the different percentages of the
population is still clearly unequal, it punishes the majorities. If it was
proportional to percentages I could see that being fine, but it really isn’t.”
Says Stacy
“Yeah. I know. There’s like 100% of the
time a guy in a wheelchair out of every 15 people when I’ve seen like thousands
and thousands of people and maybe 2 people who were actually in wheelchairs.
It’s way more common to see fat people on the scooters than people in
wheelchairs, but they don’t get the same treatment from equal television I
guess.” Says Eva
“You’ve got to be good looking you know;
according to television every crippled or autistic person is still a model.
Hell, every criminal is a model, even homeless people.” Says Stacy
“Makes me glad I don’t watch
television.” Says Jenna
“Only on a terribly boring summer day
would I try to wrangle the remote from my dad, and I noticed this after just
watching a couple of shows. It’s ridiculous to be honest.” Says Stacy
“Why do they do that anyways?” ask
Ophelia
“It makes people happy, even though it’s
fake, people still find it touching that the guy in the wheelchair is just as
good at doing front flips over fences and diving away from explosions while
shooting his gun. It’s something like positive self-image or something, people
would feel bad for the guy otherwise, but I guess that’s why they never had
crippled characters that weren’t crippled for the reason of invoking sympathy
before equal opportunity.” Says Stacy
“That’s almost more so insulting to the
crippled people, I would think.” Says Jenna
“It’s not like healthy people can do most
of the stuff they see the healthy people do on television anyways, it’s the
same thing. I think it’s more ridiculous that a Caucasian genius midget
bartender and a female pure East Asian lawyer can have a child that is a 6’7
black man in high school who struggles to read but has hopes of playing in the
NBA. That is supposedly their biological child too, it doesn’t make any sense.
The midget’s brother is literally a horse that they dub English over; he just
pokes his head in the window and cracks jokes.” Says Stacy
“That can’t be a real show.” Says Jenna
“It’s called Big Shots and Big Dreams,
it’s primetime television on GBS. I think it’s well received too.” Says Stacy
“I am amazed. I will never let my
children watch television knowing that.” Says Jenna
“It was hilarious, but still, it didn’t
make much sense if you thought about it. I guess the people who watch
television really don’t think at all.” Says Stacy
“That makes enough sense. We’ve got to
go. I’ll see you tomorrow Stacy, hopefully we can get together soon, ok, Eva?
And we don’t have to do any magic or anything; we can just have real fun.” Says
Jenna
“Ok. It was good to meet you.” Says
Eva, as the good girls walk away
“How far down do you live?” asks Stacy
“Not too far from here, just a block or
so.” Says Eva
“We’re practically neighbors; that’s so
weird.” Says Stacy
“I guess. Maybe I can hang out at your
house sometimes then.” Says Eva
“I don’t know, my house is super
boring. Nothing to do except talk to my sister who is also super boring.” Says
Stacy
“Same. My sister doesn’t even talk to me;
she just sits on the computer or plays with her phone when my parents need the
computer.” Says Eva
“How old is she?” asks Stacy
“7th grade.” Says Eva
“That’s cool, I guess. Stella is my
twin, so we’re kind of the same.” Says Stacy
“That’s so awesome. I wish I had a
twin, always having somebody to hang out with and be friends with.” Says Eva
“It’s not like that so much, I’m sure
you and your sister get into fights sometimes. Me and Stella are no different.”
Says Stacy
“Aww. I was thinking it would be like
perfect best friends forever.” Says Eva
“We’re friends, but things can get kind
of tense sometimes. We do our best to get along though; it’s far more good
times than bad times.” Says Stacy
“That sounds better than my sister; she
just kind of ignores me.” Says Eva
“I figure most older sisters would be
like that.” Says Stacy
“Probably. Super lame.” Says Eva
“Maybe there are some cool ones out
there, who knows.” Says Stacy
“Maybe. So, I’m just checking, you
know. Is Ophelia a lesbian? I’m confused about that part; it was all kind of
hard to understand.” Says Eva
“Well, she’s really Catholic, I’m
fairly sure she doesn’t even know that word exists, so please don’t tell her. I
don’t know if she is or isn’t, I doubt it since she is really into the romantic
love with boys. We try to avoid that topic, since we don’t want her to get
upset with Grace or anything, and we especially don’t want her to bring it up that
sort of thing to her parents, you know. She’s kind of easily taken advantage of
because her parents made sure she didn’t learn about that kind of stuff when we
were in school, so we kind of hope that Grace will maybe teach her something
about all of that stuff, instead of having some random sick man come along and
take her away and ruin her life.” Says Stacy
“That seems like a terrible plan, but
ok.” Says Eva
“She was upset that nobody wanted to
talk about love all the time and she was basically about to throw herself into
a panel van if nobody would entertain her, and besides, she just thinks she’s
practicing for boys or something. I don’t know. It makes her feel better, like
she’s learning something she always wanted to know about. I would avoid the
topic around her. I mean, she can’t get pregnant this way, compared to if we
helped her get a boyfriend, so this is kind of ideal, to be honest.” Says Stacy
“That makes sense; she seems like the
kind that would get pregnant really quickly.” Says Eva
“That’s one of our fears, and that’s
extremely bad considering how religious her family is.” Says Stacy
“I bet. It’s stupid that people don’t
teach their kids, like, it can only hurt them in the end.” Says Eva
“Well, it’s a double edged sword, if
they know about it, they might want to do it more, but if you can scare them
away from it, they might not want to do it.” Says Stacy
“That makes sense I guess. I see enough
of that stuff on TV, but I guess she doesn’t watch TV.” Says Eva
“None of the three of us do for the
most part; it’s either God, School, or Dale keeping us from doing it.” Says
Stacy
“Who is Dale?” asks Eva
“My dad.” Says Stacy, Eva chuckles
“Hopefully we can get together again. I
don’t have a phone so it might be hard, but I’ll try to come to the park if
it’s not a Tuesday or Thursday. I know you might not want to hang out with a
little kid or whatever, but I really like you and your friends, you actually
talked with me and listened to me like I wasn’t crazy instead of just making
fun of me like the other girls. It’s super awesome to meet nice people, you
know.” Says Eva
“Definitely. If you get a phone it
might be easier, but it’s whatever at this point. You’re a fun person and I
appreciate you weren’t judging me all the same. I think you’re like an angel or
something to be honest, talking to god and apparently committed to saving my
life somehow.” Says Stacy
“You save my life too, you know. You’re
the one who looks like an angel, anyways.” Says Eva
“I don’t know; I like white witch image
more than angel, to be honest.” Says Stacy
“I don’t like the term witch, I heard
some people talking about bad witches and just thought that I’m not one of
those, I’m a magical girl.” Says Eva
“You can still be a good witch despite
what people say about witches; you have a witch hat like everybody else.” Says
Stacy
“Why can’t we just be magical girls?”
asks Eva
“It’s just more words to say, like 400%
more talking.” Says Stacy
“Whatever, I’m still going to use it.
You don’t think the bad witches are the ones that want to kill people, do you?”
asks Eva
“Well, they might not be bad witches,
you know?” asks Stacy
“I guess. I just heard they killed some
people and summon demons and stuff.” Says Eva
“Well, you know they killed bad people,
right? That makes them good people, like you.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know who they killed. I guess
I’ll take your word for it, it feels better to think that they’re good witches
instead.” Says Eva
“They are, don’t worry about that.”
Says Stacy
“Do you know them?” asks Eva
“I just know what they’ve done, at
least what was in the news. They stopped innocent people from being hurt, you
know.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. Kind of like what I did
today.” Says Eva
“Exactly. Whatever people tell you,
don’t believe them if they say the witches are bad, if they were bad, I would
know it, because I my power is knowing all about bad things happening and the
people who do them.” Says Stacy
“That seems like a lot to know, way too
much. There are so many bad things happening all the time.” Says Eva
“I don’t pay attention to it all at the
same time, I can just search with my mind kind of like a dream and sense the
evil, like a dog smelling blood or something.” says Stacy
“That’s pretty cool. If that’s your
power maybe we can team up and you can find the bad guys for me and I can go
stop them with my magic.” Says Eva
“That would be sweet, if you’re ok with
doing that. I don’t want to pressure you, you know. If you’re ok with just
sending birds out to do whatever they do I might stick to that. Going to fight
crime is pretty dangerous.” Says Stacy
“Yeah, I would definitely need a lot of
practice, that little wasp didn’t travel anywhere near as fast as a bullet, and
seeing how I’m wearing a witch outfit I’m a pretty easy target.” Says Eva
“You’re pretty smart for a little girl,
you know.” Says Stacy
“I’m not that little, I’m almost as
tall as you, anyways.” Says Eva
“I’ve got like half a foot on you.”
Says Stacy, embarrassed by her height
“More like 3 inches, but anyways. I
don’t care. This is my house, I’ll see you later. You know where to find me, so
if you don’t see me for a while come to pay a visit ok?” asks Eva
“Of course I will. You didn’t tell me
where you learned all of that stuff.” Says Stacy
“Television, like everybody else.” Says
Eva
“You must watch educational things, not
just normal trash like everybody else.” Says Stacy
“Of course, my parents wouldn’t let me
waste time like that, but I did convince them that I learn a lot by watching
the educational stuff and that means I get to watch TV, which is better than just
reading at night.” Says Eva
“I like them both, but also like to
talk a lot. I don’t know; something about it.” Says Stacy
“That’s cool, I like talking to you
anyways. I’ll see you later, Stacy.” Says Eva
“Remember the important stuff, about
the secrets and what not.” Says Stacy
“Of course I will, I know how important
it is.” Says Eva
“That’s good. I’ll see you later.” Says
Stacy
“See you later. Thanks again for
hanging out with me.” says Eva, hugging Stacy, grateful to have supposedly
found and befriended the only prophesized source of her own demise
“Any time.” Says Stacy, hugging her
back lightly, still a bit bewildered by the second instance of her mind being
blown by the existence of magic
“You don’t do the kisses, do you?” asks
Eva
“Not in particular.” Says Stacy
“Ok, I think it’s kind of weird, but
Italians do it. I can teach you if you want.” Says Eva
“Maybe some other time.” Says Stacy
“Ok, bye-bye.” Says Eva, walking up her
stairs
“Bye.” Says Stacy, as Eva enters her home,
a town house nearly identical to Stacy’s
Stacy sighs, a bit frustrated and
flustered from today’s shenanigans, knowing she now has one more life that is
apparently in her hands, more so concerned that her life also rests in this
girls hands, more than willing to believe this little girl regardless of her
absence of faith, for she doesn’t need faith to accept the meddling of the dog,
and easily attributes the voice of god to Mr. Dog.
The sun sits high in the sky, not sky
high, but plenty high, sitting at its desk glancing at paperwork for a moment
before shaking some cocaine onto a mirror, lining it up with a razorblade,
rolling up the snow-kissed effigy of Benjamin Franklin on his desk that smiles
at him with approval all day, and insufflates the healthy line of cocaine.
“Do you have to do that all the time?” asks
the lone cloud accompanying the sun
“During business hours, I’ve got to
handle my fucking business, Jenny.” Says the sun
“I know, Steve, but maybe a little less
cocaine and a little more business would be good. You seem pretty high
already.” Says Jenny
“Well Mr. Sunshine can’t shine as
fucking bright if he’s coming down, now, can he? That’s my fucking business
Jenny, that’s what I fucking do all god damn day if you didn’t understand
that.” Says Steve
“You know you don’t have to work so
hard, Steve. It’s killing you.” Says Jenny
“Everything fucking kills you. At least
I’m going to feel great while I’m dying. You know what’s wrong with you? You’re
not here sucking my dick telling me how fucking great I am whenever I let you
take my cock out of your mouth. I’m the reason the sun fucking shines, bitch. I
make the Earth spin round, I am the fucking sunshine in everybody’s god damn
life and you are going to criticize me? I fucking made you who you are you
ungrateful bitch! I am god! You would be floating in the cold dark depths of
space as another meaningless comet if it weren’t for me! You realize that, you
stupid fucking bitch? You are just something to drink my god damn ejaculate yet
you open your mouth and talk back to me? I’m the one who needs to do less coke?
Oh no, you, on the other hand, so fucking full of yourself to bite the fucking
hand that feeds you, you have had too much coke today you worthless fucking
whore. Do I need to explain this thoroughly, reach my fucking arm out and
remind you forcefully, are you that stupid, bitch? Have you forgotten that you
worship me, like a dog worships his master? I am your fucking master, I am the
reason you are alive, you better fucking remember that.” Says Steve
“I’m sorry, daddy, I didn’t mean it.
You know I love you, I worship you, daddy. I know you just want to work hard
and do the right thing, I just think you could use a little time to relax,
you’ve been putting in more hours than usual today, I want you to feel good, I
can’t have you dying because you worked yourself to death you know.” Says Jenny
“Well, how about you come help me relax
then and put my fucking dick in your mouth, ok?” asks Steve
“Ok, daddy.” Says Jenny, who goes to
please her boss
“That’s the fucking number, this is why
I have you file my paperwork, you are so fucking good at your job.” Says Steve,
pouring himself a glass of fine cognac “This is why I work so hard, you know,
so I can have this, really fucking earn it, deserve it, some people pay money
to pretend, not me, I am the real fucking deal, I am god.” Says Steve, Jenny
reinforces this idea with her skilled mouth, neck, and tongue
The lone graceful cloud in the sky had
drifted in front of the sun, still so high in the sky to remind Stacy of it’s
true power, the fact that powerful elite like the sun keep food out of the
mouths of hungry little girls, for the sun was low enough in the sky for it to
be close enough to suppertime for the little girl to be hungry, but far too
high for it to remind the girl of the loving warmth of a hot meal after a long
day’s toil, the sun only spits on the poor girl for being hungry.
Stacy reaches her homely home and
creaks the door open and lets herself in. Dale snores to the serenade of
gunshots and explosions on television, dreaming of being the patriot contemporary
Americans would spit on because he has the boldfaced bravado and huge balls it
takes to say that he doesn’t find a man: a morbidly obese venomously smug man
reveling in his own self-diagnosed autism who compulsively buys artificial hormones
from street dealers with welfare state money equally as sexually attractive as
a beautiful girl in her twenties models for charity, regardless of the firmly
held beliefs by the man and thus society who believe that he is
indistinguishable from that beautiful girl due to the laws of the land and
social order that coddle this belief. Dale so shamelessly boldly shameless that
he nonchalantly presumes the man’s gender identity incorrectly, going so far as
to casually and offhandedly use the pronouns the man could not tolerate without
even asking the man which ones he prefers.
He has the balls to do this, and he does it, the man unleashes a
deafening screech which alerts the white knights of social justice to the
treachery of insensitivity, no longer so pacified as to sit idly in the dimly
lit cantina drunk off of the prestigious localness of the local culture. Dale’s
quick reflexes allow him to roll over the bar he was casually leaned against,
dodging the poorly coordinated man’s attempt to slap him, he grabs a handle of
the local flavor of poverty spirits from the shelf and reminds the barkeep that
it’s still happy hour; the barkeep puts it on his tab, grimacing, a bit
disheartened by the ruckus the patriotic patron had roused in his bar. Dale
runs out the saloon doors and jumps on his trusty steed in an attempt to
escape, the army of justice all pile into one wagon like a gang of clowns,
deciding that wagon-pooling was the only way they could chase Dale and respect
the environment simultaneously. Dale spurs his horse, traditionally callous,
while the army is forced to bend to the whim of their own horses about terms
and conditions of the horses’ labor including but not limited to paid time-off,
healthcare, retirement, and the workplace death and dismemberment policy. Eventually
they agree on the terms and give chase to Dale, the army’s horses working
diligently due to how much they appreciate the work environment and the level
of respect they receive from their employer. Dale’s horse runs for fear of its
life and out of preservation of its relative comfort, occasionally reminded of
the pain Dale can induce in the magnificent beast by the spurs at dale’s heels.
Dale’s skin burning in the blazing sun he seeks shelter and the ghost of an
American Indian rides alongside him on his ghost horse, instructing Dale to
follow him towards salvation. He does.
Dale
scoffs at the Army of Political Correctness, smoking a cigarette, sweat beading
on his face from the heat of the desert around him, grateful for the shade of the
dilapidated adobe gifted to him by the dead Indians, the oppressors
relentlessly pinning him down in his foxhole with their automatic verbal
assault weapons, he knows they’ll get tired, they need to reload their guns
with whatever sickening sustenance they can scavenge to fuel their indignation
eventually. Dale has his gallon of bootleg firewater to keep him warm during
the cold desert night. He knows they’ll freeze to death in the wilds if they
stay too long, he knows that once they foolishly think they’ve taught him his
lesson by verbally murdering his ideology, they will run off and become so full
of themselves they fall asleep; Dale notices some of them have already done so.
The man impervious to bullets who has slain legions of terrorists, communists,
Nazis, and criminals in his time as the savior of this great nation swigs from
his handle and grins, looking down lovingly at his automatic assault rifle even
though he has no ammunition, both his rifle and side arm having been completely
expended during business hours on banditos that roam the wild west, now armed
only with his knife and firewater, still bold enough to fail to die, knowing
that his swift horse is safe from harm, as the enemy would never hurt a horse
even if it killed communist children for fun like Sly Rustler did, that bucking
bastard: scoffing haughtily at the army of fools far louder than Dale, the
horse drenched in his own savory American bravado. Night falls, the gunfire
stops, and Dale sprints from high hell and hops on his steed, giving the horse
a healthy portion of the lord’s good drink to keep it warm as they ride off
into the moonrise towards the fires of freedom hidden in endless desert.
Stacy lets him sleep and heads
upstairs. She enters her room, tosses her bag aside, undresses and puts on
comfortable clothes. She lies down to savor the sweet comfort of a bed after a
long day of backbreaking schoolgirlery. The sun continues its casually classy
cocaine consumption keeping its high alive while Stacy flees her mind and thus
the world, drowning the pain of living with the sweet comfort of the company of
death’s loving cousin. Stella eventually walks in the room.
“Hey Stacy.” Says Stella, warmly
“Howdy.” Mumbles Stacy, who rolls over,
with no desire to be awake enough to contemplate the day, Stella undresses down
to her panties and crawls on top of Stacy
“You don’t want to play today?” asks
Stella cutely
“Long day.” Says Stacy, who opens her
eyes to reveal Stella staring at her optimistically, Stella kisses her
“Nothing bad I hope.” Says Stella,
softly, a bit reluctant to acknowledge what a long day could possibly be,
falling on top of Stacy and beginning to hold her as the fear starts to creep
up inside of her
“Surprisingly it wasn’t me this time.”
Says Stacy
“I can’t imagine what your girlfriends
could possibly have done to make it a long day.” Says Stella
“I made a new friend today. A cute
little girl who lives down the street, actually.” Says Stacy
“You’re that bad with children?” asks
Stella
“Well, children who almost reveal my
damnable secret in front of my uninvolved friends and then happen to kill
somebody with black magic in broad daylight, maybe. I thought I handled it
pretty well, I mean we’re somehow friends in the end.” Says Stacy
“What the fuck?” asks Stella
“That’s what I was thinking, but this
girl can summon little animals that do god knows what, she didn’t even know
until she sent one after some asshole at the park, it fucked his day up proper.
He’s a dead motherfucker now, real fucking dead: bleeding out the eyes,
slamming his head on the pavement convulsing to death kind of dead.” Says Stacy
“And a little girl did that? Is she
like an evil witch or something?” asks Stella
“She’s the same kind of thing that I
am, just like the other girls; she’s got a green dress. I mean it could have
technically been green magic for all I know, the little wasp thing was a
ghastly green after all. Apparently what she did qualified as a good deed since
her ring started glowing, scary as hell.” Says Stacy
“That is pretty scary, can any of you
do any magic like that?” asks Stella
“Not even close, I just know things,
Jenna can heal people, maybe other things we don’t know, she doesn’t want to
find out to be honest, and Ophelia can stir up love. Nothing close to that
little girl’s power.” Says Stacy
“What is her power exactly? Just pure
magic or something?” asks Stella
“Apparently it’s ‘doing good’ whatever
in the fuck that amounts to I have no clue, likely Revelations for all I know.”
Says Stacy
“It seems like it kind of rattled you,
I thought you would be used to that sort of thing.” Says Stella
“When I kill people, they just drop,
that’s it. This guy was clawing at himself and severely convulsing to death,
pretty gruesome compared to what I do. I guess he must have deserved it or
something.” says Stacy
“Jesus. Is the girl ok? I’m sure she’s
horrified if she didn’t know what her magic did.” Asks Stella
“She came to terms with it pretty
quick. Ophelia talked to her about god’s will and what not and she took to that
pretty quick. She goes to Saint Agnes, so I figure she has at least a little
bit of faith in her life, even if it’s just from the nuns.” Says Stacy
“That’s kind of weird, how all of you
went to this one school, but ok.” Says Stella
“Yeah, well, I mean I think the dog
just hangs out at the one park or something, the girl also met the dog over
there.” Says Stacy
“Super weird. Remind me never to go
there.” Says Stella
“I don’t think I have to.” Says Stacy
“You’re right. That park scares the
ever living shit out of me right now and likely forever.” Says Stella
“Good. Fucked up my life real good, all
of our lives. Nothing we can do about it now. The girl said that we end up
saving each other’s lives or something, god told her, which I’m just presuming
means the damn dog told her with his telepathy. Who knows what that means, but
I’d much rather have her on my side than against me, I figure she can kill
anyone she damn well pleases, just send a little spirit wasp after them and get
the job done. Insane.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know why I readily believe
this, but I know you wouldn’t lie to me about this shit. I’m losing my mind,
but maybe the world is losing its mind and I’m just part of the world, I don’t
know. I just want to leave it alone.” Says Stella
“My thoughts exactly, leave it alone.”
Says Stacy
“Well… now that we’re alone… and we’re
just going to leave that alone… you sure you don’t want to have a little fun?”
asks Stella, kissing Stacy playfully
“I’m still pretty satisfied from
yesterday.” Says Stacy, wrestling with exhausted reluctance, Stella grabs
Stacy’s hand and puts two of the fingers in her mouth, slowly pulling them out
and sliding them down her body into her panties “Just a little bit?” pouts
Stella, playfully
“Just a little bit.” Says Stacy,
smiling, tired, but willing enough to entertain Stella’s desires
“That’s what I like to hear.” Says
Stella, sliding her hand up Stacy’s shirt, wrapping her arm around Stacy’s back
and begging to slowly make love to Stacy’s mouth with her own as Stacy strokes
her softly, she arches her back, thoroughly enjoying the pleasurable loving
attention that she had lived without for so long. Stacy’s tongue sleepwalks
through the motions as the passion of her warm blanket slowly begins to
escalate which in turn subconsciously induces the fervor of her own hand to
rise in tandem. Stella takes her hand from Stacy’s breast and slides it down
her arm, guiding Stacy’s fingers gently inside of her, which she begins to
assist in their task with her own hips. Stacy gropes Stella’s ass in a futile
attempt to induce a speed at which things may culminate. Stella’s hand returns
to the small supple breast of her slender companion, still thoroughly enjoying
the taste in her mouth.
“Let’s do it for real.” Says Stella, as
she releases Stacy’s tongue, staring at her excitedly
“This isn’t real?” asks Stacy,
reluctant to go all the way again,
“I want you to make love to me, Stacy.
Like yesterday.” Says Stella
“I’m a tad beat, for all that. Maybe
just something casual today.” Says Stacy
“You don’t want to earn your supper?”
teases Stella
“I mean, I can eat you out for a little
bit, if you want.” Says Stacy, a bit flustered in regards to the threat against
supper
“You know I want it.” Says Stella
“Right-o.” says Stacy, who slaps
Stella’s ass with both her hands “On your back, now.” Says Stacy
“Put me on my back and make love to my
body with your mouth.” Says Stella, happy to ride Stacy until her recalcitrance
is broken
“My pleasure.” Says Stacy, grinning
deviantly, no longer seeing Stella in front of her, seeing only the goddess of
supper, whom she is unquestioningly more than willing to serve with her
maddeningly occult devotion, she wrestles Stella onto her back and forces her
hand back down her panties with new found passion, fondling her as she kisses
her aggressively. She does this until Stella’s moans prevent her from returning
the passion of the lips and tongue which then venture across the rest of her
body, making their way to the teats, each of which Stacy suckles with ravishing
hunger to no avail. Eventually continuing their conquest down the rest of
Stella’s body, savoring the salt of labor on her skin as Stacy slides Stella’s
panties along with down her legs, accompanied by her own mouth before making
the return journey to the giver of life itself. Stacy’s tongue and lips
ravishing Stella with a passion, delirious enough to taste the supper they so
long for, only serving to further the voracity of their delectable maneuvers,
Stella pants and moans breathlessly, causing Stacy to increase the speed of her
own tongue out of a passion for victory above all else.
“Give me more, Stacy.” Moans Stella,
Stacy easily slides her fingers inside of Stella and begins to play the
depraved girl like a fiddle with the skill of the devil himself. The tongue
swiftly playing arpeggios as the bow matches it’s tastefulness, Stella’s moans
grow louder and her breaths grow shorter, Stacy accelerates, being mentally in
tune with the conductor, who’s hips start to flail slightly as he legs begin to
tremble, Stacy takes her free arm and wraps it around one of her legs, becoming
even more so unrelenting with her instruments musical pleasure, Stella’s moans
turn to cries of unfathomable pleasure as she wraps her legs around Stacy and
drive her hips into Stacy’s mouth. Stacy more than prepared to avoid having her
head crushed this time continues to solo mercilessly on her sacred fiddle.
“Oh my god!” cries Stella “Stacy!” she
moans, breathlessly, having relaxed slightly in weakness and begging to stroke
Stacy’s hair, still with her legs securely wrapped around her pleasure pal. Stacy
slows her pursuit to a warm-down, feeling rather accomplished.
“Let me taste you. I’m hungry for you, Stacy.”
Says Stella seductively, Stacy crawls up from the orchestra pit, Stella quickly
lifts Stacy’s shirt off and wraps her arms around her neck, diligently licking
Stacy’s tongue clean. She slides her hand down Stacy’s back and slips it into
her shorts, groping her ass before sliding her shorts and panties down,
reaching up with her foot and kicking Stacy’s shorts and panties off entirely.
Stella starts to grind on Stacy’s hips gratefully, kissing her with the same
occult devotion she had been revered with for a happy while before pulling back
and staring into Stacy’s eyes truly enamored.
“Let me do you.” Says Stella, with
longing in her eyes
“I just want to make you happy, don’t
worry about me. I’ve had more than enough already.” Says Stacy
“So you’ll let me do you? That will
make me even happier.” Says Stella, playfully, rolling Stacy under herself
“If you want, I guess.” Says Stacy,
more so uncomfortable with this part of the ordeal, but willing to grin and
bear it to please Stella
“You know I want to.” Says Stella,
kissing Stacy softly before making love to the rest of Stacy’s half-tense body,
feeling the echoes of the pleasure Stacy gives her reverberating from her
benefactor, the mutuality of pleasure by pleasure and pleasuring alike a
wholesome and comforting feeling of compassion that is otherwise absent from
her life. Stella eventually finds her way to Stacy’s abdomen, kissing it
lovingly, worshiping every part of Stacy thoroughly.
“Relax, Stacy. Come on. I’m not going
to hurt you.” Says Stella, smiling warmly, Stacy exhales and forces herself
into a still mildly fearful relaxation, Stella’s mouth gently reassuring Stacy
that she is taking the proper course of action before comfort eventually
overtakes discomfort in the swirling ambivalence as Stella adventures around
Stacy’s hips and thighs, attempting to warm up the paradoxically cold part of
Stacy’s body with a few casual passes before finally holding the position after
feeling the tension in Stacy’s thighs fade. Stella’s lips and tongue gently
ease Stacy towards tolerating the pleasure as she comes to embrace her sick
masochism induced by her stoic guilt for even being capable of feeling such an
uncontrollable physical sensation as sexual pleasure which she deems no human
as worthy of experiencing. Stella increases the rigor of her otherwise taciturn
tongue causing Stacy to breathe heavily, still reluctant to relax, but enjoying
the experience much like one would a thrill ride at an amusement park.
“You want my fingers too, yet?” asks
Stella, playfully
“No. No fingers, this stuff gets my
guts a bit twisted, the fingers don’t help that part at all.” Says Stacy
“You’re just so good at it, you know. I
want to make you feel as good as you make me feel.” Says Stella
“I’m skittish about this sort of stuff,
I guess, I don’t know.” Says Stacy
“That’s ok. I don’t want to make you
uncomfortable or anything.” Says Stella
“Just come cuddle me or something, I
can do that way better.” Says Stacy
“I feel bad if I don’t get you off, you
know.” Says Stella
“You got me yesterday, that’s more than
enough. I don’t have the appetite like you do.” Says Stacy
“We can do it like that, if you want.”
Says Stella
“You’ve done me plenty so far. Next
time for sure, I’m just exhausted right now. Can we just cuddle or something?”
asks Stacy, attempting to talk her way to the finish line
“Sure.” Says Stella, crawling up on top
of Stacy and snuggling her “You’re weird, you know?” she asks
“I’ve got too much on my mind I guess.”
Says Stacy
“I figured this would be a good way to
clear it up.” Says Stella
“Pleasure and fear kind of feel the
same to me for some reason, I don’t know. You’re right I am kind of weird I
guess.” Says Stacy
“That’s super weird. Even right now?”
asks Stella
“This is comfort, not so much intense
pleasure. I like this a lot more. Feels about the same as sleepy.” Says Stacy
“I can understand why you would like
them both.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy happily
“You know me well.” Says Stacy
“You definitely earned your supper
tonight.” jokes Stella, playfully
“I don’t mind doing something for it,
you know. You deserve it.” Says Stacy, simply being honest
“I don’t mind receiving this in
exchange.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy seductively
“Just don’t starve me if some bastard
cuts my tongue out one day.” Jokes Stacy
“Your tongue is your everything,
talking and the good parts too.” Says Stella
“Heaven forbid I lose the only think
keeping me alive and feeling alive.” Says Stacy
“That would be a shame. You know one of
the advantages of having it in my mouth is that you don’t get to talk.” jokes
Stella
“So cruel.” Says Stacy
“It’s the truth. I’m glad you’ve found
a way to make better use of such a gift.” Says Stella
“This might be the first time anyone’s
actually liked my tongue.” Says Stacy
“I love your
tongue. It’s magnificent.” Says Stella, thoroughly aroused simply at the
thought of such, kissing Stacy, fishing for the tongue she loves and finding it
easily, savoring the moment before teasing herself way
“You know, if I didn’t talk all the time my tongue might not
be as good at what it does.” Says Stacy
“Good point. I’ll keep that in mind the next time you’re
ranting.” Teases Stella, kissing Stacy lightly
“I don’t know if I’ve got much left in me today as far as
rants go, I’m running on fumes. That little girl had me on edge for a damn long
time, sitting there thinking if my little life of lies and smiles is going to
come crashing down.” Says Stacy
“Don’t let me think about that. I like this life. I can
tolerate the secrets and fear and everything so long as we can keep living an
otherwise normal life.” Says Stella, cuddling Stacy in a fearful longing of
sanity and lighthearted wellbeing
“I’m glad you think this is normal. I don’t mind, but it’s a
bit weird, you know.” Says Stacy, a bit embarrassed thinking about Stella as
she once was rather than a sick animal being tended to by a kind shepherd
“This is one of our secrets, remember? Anyways, you’re the
weird one. You don’t like it. I thought you were more into this sort of thing
after ravaging me yesterday and everything. Where did the fear come from,
anyways?” Says Stella
“Yesterday was different; I was just so full of fear and
adrenaline at that point that it felt right. Today I’m just anxious and
paranoid, yesterday felt like my swan song or something. I guess I’m less so in
the mood if I’m not in fear for my life.” Says Stacy
“What could have possibly put you at ease in regards to
that? I’m pretty sure people don’t forget about murder overnight.” Says Stella
“The Bay City Police Department does, that’s all that
matters. Apparently they used the Good Samaritan laws on the books to close the
investigation without investigating anything, so I’m safe as milk.” Says Stacy
“It is a terrible ambivalence feeling happy that you’re safe
but also disheartened that the police are so reluctant to do anything besides
shoot minorities and hand out tickets.” Says Stella
“I was entirely indifferent to the latter at first, but now
I’m grateful as hell. It makes my life a whole lot easier, so far as I can
tell. As long as I’m doing good deeds, nothing bad will happen to me. It’s kind
of ironic that I had no clue those laws even existed.” Says Stacy
“Not really, it’s hard to imagine that a single Good
Samaritan would exist in Bay City.” Says Stella
“That’s a good point. I’m sure the cops were working down
the list of excuses to do nothing before reaching the last item on the list,
pleased as pudding that they could write off another murder.” Says Stacy
“You must be hungry, since you keep making food similes.”
Says Stella
“The damn sun has mocked me all day,
flipping me the bird when I look up thinking it’s any noticeable amount closer
to supper time.” Says Stacy
“I’ll cook something. After supper and
homework, we can work on getting you more comfortable with normal things like
pleasure.” Teases Stella, kissing Stacy lovingly
“It’s just rather foreign to me, my
mind tends to be acerbic and venomous, sweet things are discomforting when
you’re used to drinking vinegar all day.” Says Stacy
“That makes too much sense. You’re not
sour all the time though; you tend to have your silly moments.” Says Stella,
getting up off Stacy and getting dressed
“Sometimes even I can get drunk off the
liquor of cynicism. The world is so damn ridiculous that the only thing you can
do is enjoy a sick laugh. Sadly it is along the lines of a drunk abusive man
having a drunk abusive laugh, but a laugh is a laugh, for what it’s worth.”
Says Stacy
“I’ll take it, I could use more
laughs.” Says Stella
“You tend to criticize my laughs, just
saying.” Says Stacy
“I’ll work on it. This whole insane
scenario makes drinking that liquor of cynicism a hell of a lot more tempting.”
Says Stella
“It’s good. Too drunk to give a damn,
wiping the flying fucks that others found off of your face and scoffing, boldly
intoxicated, nearly blind, entirely indifferent to being sullied by society for
whatever lack of sympathy or empathy you were criticized for lacking
shamelessly. As long as you don’t give a damn it’s a good time, but that’s the
hard part. You might get too soft and sympathize or too hard to the point where
you haughtily seek to impose your magnanimous intellectual perfection on the
world and get a bit bitter when you fail to do so.” Says Stacy, sitting up on
the bed
“I think I’m too far gone to even be
cynical at this point. You have to care about people or society or something at
least, and I’ve stooped to your level where I just see them as mindless slaves
living some humdrum machine-pressed life.” Says Stella
“I’m surprised you embraced enlightenment
like that.” Says Stacy, getting up and getting dressed
“I wouldn’t call it that, I just look
at them and it’s striking how normal and unremarkable everybody is when I
compare them to myself who is a part of this cavalcade of bewildering insanity
along with you and your girlfriends. I still kind of want it, but the fact that
I know I can’t makes me indifferent to its absence. It seems as silly as
wishing I were a bird or something at this point, unachievable nonsense.” Says
Stella
“I guess I don’t know that feeling too
well, I find that normalcy revolting. It’s almost comforting that I go out and
do the things I do simply because it means I’m not some factory-fresh slave
like every other sorry soul on the planet.” Says Stacy
“The factory makes the people like that
for a reason. The quality is rather respectable in the end.” Says Stella
“I could care less about the quality,
it’s the feeling of being absorbed into the amalgam, having my brain pressed
into the mold and my arms and legs strung up like a puppet to the point where I
dance to the whim of the puppeteer every day until I die. That is not freedom,
and it induces an almost delirious level of fear in my mind that people believe
that such a state is freedom, the only consolidation is my advantageous side
seeing that as a boon to my own tasteful
ventures.” Says Stacy
“In regards to those tasteful ventures,
you ok with half-ass bean and rice burritos?” asks Stella
“Always. I don’t know what makes them
burritos but it’s a delectable shapeless pile of food.” Says Stacy
“It’s just burritos without the
tortillas.” Says Stella
“I don’t mind tortillas.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you don’t, but for some
godforsaken reason tortillas are expensive. I can make a mountain of filling
for the same price of a small bag of tortillas. I’m not trying to double the
cost of a meal just to have a few pieces of floppy bread devoid of any
nutritional value.” Says Stella
“Isn’t a bag of tortillas like 3
dollars?” asks Stacy
“A mountain of filling is also 3
dollars, so I’m not wrong. The tortillas just don’t seem worth it to me.” Says
Stella
“I figured it would be the vegetables.”
Says Stacy
“The onion and a pepper cost maybe a
dollar together. Cans of beans and bags of rice are cheap too.” Says Stella
“I can’t complain, cheap food means
more for me. You know I have some money if you’re really strapped.” Says Stacy
“I don’t want that money. Jesus, Stacy.
We have more than enough money to eat.” Says Stella
“I mean I don’t want the spices drying
up or anything, I know those can be steep.” Says Stacy
“I go to the bazaar on Saturdays and
buy them from the foreigners, they sell them super cheap. Don’t worry about
that. I’m sure that money is cursed or something anyways.” Says Stella
“I’m sure it is, but I’m pretty sure
it’s technically a good deed to keep it out of the hands of crooked cops, and
seeing how I can’t do any good deeds if I’ve got no fuel in the tank I’m sure I
could pad the food budget if need be.” Says Stacy
“We’ve got plenty of Poverty Bars if it
really comes down to that. I highly doubt that dad’s welfare is going to dry up
any time soon, he gets a few different kinds, you know. He gets settlement
money, disability, children money; he’s able to keep us afloat just fine.
Donate that money to charity or something if it’s for good deeds.” Says Stella
“I doubt crooked non-profits are any
better than crooked cops. I’m likely the only legitimate charity in the city.”
Says Stacy
“That’s a shame, but I won’t argue with
that. I’m going to get started cooking.” Says Stella,
“Music to my ears.” Says Stacy, the
girls go down stairs and enter the kitchen, Dale still aggressively sleeping
“I’m going to make extra, since dad
usually will eat some of this stuff if it’s lying around. You don’t mind having
it again later, do you?” asks Stella, starting to cook
“Food is good. I’m a simple girl.” Says
Stacy, getting a glass of milk
“I’m glad you think that, I’d hate for
you to be another one of those anorexic girls who loathes food for some unknown
reason.” Says Stella
“Probably because they hate themselves
and just blame the food. Who knows? Human logic argues that if one’s self has a
problem, it is by no fault of one’s own.” Says Stacy
“Good point. It’s just so common that
girls are insecure and do everything they can to try to seem perfect according
to some social standard. Anorexic, lots of make-up, bitchy, spiteful,
judgmental, vain, it’s a petty shit show to be honest, seeing girls put
themselves through this bullshit for no reason other than to impress people
with the same sick standards.” Says Stella
“It wouldn’t have the appeal of exclusivity
if the popular charadeers just let anybody in. It’s some sort of cult, but I’m
sure whoever becomes the leader of a local chapter feels like they’re on top of
the world. They basically drink the happiness from their subservient cultists
who want to be pretty and popular like they are, regardless of the fact that
half of being popular is having the genetics of a good body and pretty face
while the other half is having plenty of money to live both a stress free life
that fails to ruin that natural beauty as well as buy all the petty components
of popularity. It’s pretty hard to fuck that up if you have that going for
you.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure plenty of people manage to be
somewhat popular without having all of that going for them.” Says Stella
“It’s a lot easier for a good looking
woman to be forgiven by her peers than an ugly one. If you’re ugly, people will
hold that against you just as much as whatever you did to upset them. I don’t
even mean like a monster looking person, just not quite pretty enough to be
automatically popular. I’m sure it’s hell for those borderline girls having to
work so hard just for some scraps of acknowledgment and decent treatment from
their peers.” Says Stacy
“I think most girls just stick with
their own friends and kind of leave the quote unquote popular girls be. It’s
not like everybody likes them, they just acknowledge that they’re rich and
pretty and pretentious. All they have to do is look down on everybody and then
their subservient ones will presume that they’re superior. It’s kind of sad
really.” Says Stella
“I doubt many girls would turn down
their seal of approval though. Even if the girl hates the bitches she would
still feel like a giddy kid if they gave her a compliment or something.” says
Stacy
“Even you?” asks Stella
“Well, I’m a sick misanthrope, so maybe
less so, but I’ll take a compliment from anywhere to be honest. Even a homeless
person telling me that one of my ideas wasn’t half bad would be more than
enough to stroke my ego thoroughly. Any excuse is a good excuse when it comes
to that.” Says Stacy
“That’s a laughably low standard.” Says
Stella
“Well me and the hobo will be having a
hearty fucking laugh about it, because the ego high is unbeatable, and I’m not
going to turn down a fix unless it’s cut with poison or something.” says Stacy
“What sort of poison are you talking about?”
asks Stella
“If it’s some sort of manipulative
bullshit where you’ve got to jump through hoops to get a compliment; that’s not
wholesome and genuine, it’s basically worthless. Most of the time you’re
abandoning your own sentiments and jumping through the hoops to get
complimented on the fact that you jumped through hoops, you’ve got to be real
desperate for that sort of attention. That’s life. So often you’re just jumping
through hoops to get compliments for doing so, you’re not even being yourself
or unique in anyway, you’re just some animal doing tricks for petty treats.
Shameless.” Says Stacy
“Most people do that to eat, but that’s
just my take on it.” Says Stella
“If that were the case it would be
fine, but they get off of work and go do the same damn charade with their
friends and family. Who wants to live that life? I’m a savage, a wild animal;
I’m going to maul you to death before I jump through some silly hoop for somebody
to pat on the head and compliment me like I’m a god damn dog.” Says Stacy
“You
realize bad animals like that get put down, right?” asks Stella
“They for damn sure wouldn’t if they
had the mental capacity that I do.” Says Stacy
“I hope that just means you know
better.” Says Stella
“I know better than to accomplish such
retribution though animal means, contemporary man prefers the more
sophisticated style of accomplishing the same feats through politics using the
most human claws of psychological and physical torture.” Says Stacy
“That’s what you think contemporary man
prefers?” asks Stella
“Of course, we’re talking about
contemporary man here, not contemporary chattel. The men who wield intelligence
to sculpt the world at large, not than the beasts of burden who simply utilize
the musculoskeletal structure of a contorted mammal or the meaty computers who
have their personage reduced to that of a cost effective computational machine.
Man manipulates his environment to gain unnatural advantages, and for better or
for worse, the environment includes plenty of meat bags that can be driven like
cattle or programmed like a computer an account of their own hedonism or
otherwise simply the fear of being tortured to death by poverty.” Says Stacy
“Is it that easy to write damn near
everybody off like that, just as some slave without any more respect than an
ox? You don’t respect the little things that make people different than
animals? Their personalities that make them distinct and unique, anything that
would signify that they are actually more than some simple animal?” asks Stella
“That makes them no different than
animals, every horse or dog has the same damn unique components as people do and
nobody gives a damn about eating those bastards or putting a bullet in their
brain if they break their leg. Just because the beasts have the gall to
mutually stoke each other’s delusions about the relevance of otherwise entirely
otiose facets of the beasts’ life s doesn’t make the sentiments anything but
delusion. To give merit to such things is to believe things simply because a
man has told you these things, the sick beasts condition the proneness and
susceptibility of the survival mechanism of mutuality, and this unchecked
sympathy and empathy runs rampant; it’s the difference between having a healthy
brain or one with a massive pituitary tumor. In the wild it would be ideal for
the beasts to sympathize with each other in order to work together to
accomplish something that is mutually beneficial, but when there is no mutually
beneficial result from the sympathy or empathy, that is when you know it is the
mental blight conditioned by society failing to punish such sentiments as they
would in the wild. In the wild if you sympathize too much you starve because
you are giving your food to the sick and unfortunate souls who cannot provide
for themselves and in turn this makes you unable to provide for yourself when
you take on the needs of these people as your own. Sympathy is suicide.” Says
Stacy
“The world is a lot different now, we
have the ability to easily care for people who can’t take care of themselves,
there’s nothing wrong with being a decent person.” Says Stella
“There is. The problem is that the
supposed decency is unnatural. Nature is a fine tuned and perfected mechanism
that functions by root principles that can be applied universally in order to
achieve success without fail, or at least be able to address and correct any
sources of failure that arise. By diverging from nature we diverge from
success, tried and true, honed by billions of years of evolution. To think that
humanism can induce a greater level of success than nature can is egregiously
revolting. That is sickening pride, and I say that as one fond of the vice
myself. If humanism was worthy of any such merit, nature would be humanistic,
it would be the most humanistic force on the god damn planet, because clearly
if humanism were the most reliable method for a lifeform to be successful then
humanism would be heavily favored in natural selection. This is unironically
not the case in the slightest, even if there are some subtle things that can be
misconstrued as humanism; symbiosis is not humanism in the slightest, because
there is always a beneficial relationship. To put faith in humanism to amount
to something is like putting faith in cocaine to accomplish the same thing as
humanism, it feels good but is largely unproductive if not destructive, plenty
of people can easily justify these actions because they feel good, but all in
all it is unnatural and unhealthy for the system, whether or not it is a human
body or the general wellbeing of the population of the bipedal beast as a
whole.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure humanism and godliness
are the reasons why we live in a civilization instead of some bush running around
naked eating berries and throwing rocks at each other.” Says Stella
“Godliness and humanism are entirely
different. God is a vehement tribalist who seeks to keep order amongst his
people and ensure their mutual success while condemning those who oppose his
faction to death. Morality benefits those who adhere to it so long as
immorality is punished, this creates order, humanism is sympathy for the devil,
and largely is ungodly. Humanism sympathizes with the blighted, the modern
Canaanite that god sought to exterminate, the blighted wreak havoc on society
by inducing a heavy socioeconomic burden as instead of being addressed they are
coddled and spread their sickness with the poison of their indignant pleas for
sympathy. It is immoral to allow men to stray from the light of god, regardless
of whether or not faith exists, simply because a faithful god-fearing man is
for more ideal than one who forsakes ancient wisdom in the name of contemporary
whims. The only reason these whims exists is because it has become so easy for
the damnable beast to survive thanks to technology and sadly humanism. The
easier it becomes to survive, the easier it becomes for unideal whims to
survive and reproduce, this means these sentiments are of much lower quality
since they are not being culled by natural selection that would otherwise be
more than happy to exterminate such foolishness if the lovable wolf was not
kept howling and hungry at the gates of hell. Just because something can
survive does not mean that it should, by even respecting the whims of
contemporary man solely on account of his damnable delusions of grandeur that
allow him to believe that his insight and wisdom is superior to the wisdom and
insight crafted by the wise men throughout millennia of truly struggling to survive
is ridiculable. Mankind will always be plagued with fools who think their own
wretched nonsensical opinions are superior to all that come before them because
they are mentally ill, and to allow humanism and other similar unnatural
philosophies to survive because they make an empath feel good is to have a
fucking parade for the coke dealer because he makes the town feel good.” Says
Stacy
“Unfortunately for you mental illness
is not determined by irrational thinking but incongruent thinking, the world is
sane no matter how irrational they are simply because their mindsets are
congruent. Anyways, you’re kind of a megalomaniac too, you know.” Says Stella
“I may be bold and haughty, but I do
not sport these ideals out of a sick sympathetic hedonism, I hold these ideals
to be sacred on account of their logical purity. These sentiments don’t give me
pleasure; it is actually quite painful to be burdened with this wisdom, knowing
that mankind will never listen, it is literally standing next to a mountain
spring and your horse is too god damn stupid to drink the water so your horse
dies of thirst and you are stranded in the mountain and you die from the
elements. For mankind to listen to me would be like convincing dad to stop
drinking, self-educate himself in some sedentary job and try to work from home.
That’s never going to happen. People like to feel good; they like to have an
easy life: they are hedonists. It is as simple as that. They just want to
survive and be happy, and since survival is so easy the pompous fucks think
it’s good to coddle every last thing from here to the depths of hell, since
everything is apparently so god damn worthy of life. The only concession I get
is the fantasy that natural ideals will continue to rapidly degrade as survival
sadly becomes even easier and all the while I will just try to laugh as my rage
has given way to crippling apathy as the world turns into a sick hellhole where
people are conditioned to love the demons that torture and cripple them.” Says
Stacy
“I don’t see why you have a problem
with something surviving, if it can survive and it’s not hurting anybody, it
really shouldn’t be hard to just tolerate whatever it is.” Says Stella
“It is because it shouldn’t survive, it
is unnatural selection; it is devolution to allow these things to continue to
exist. The second humans learned of natural selection there should have been a
large scale effort put in place to make sure that survival becomes no less
difficult than it originally was in the wild, even if this means artificially
increasing the dangers and difficulties of life. Reverence of nature is key;
nature is the literal form of god, the womb that created everything. To think
that we should abandon the invisible hand of natural selection that guided and
refined each and every lifeform to the point near natural perfection in its
niche is an abomination before a true god, nature at least, in the eyes of the
forest and the clouds and the sunshine that created all life. To abandon
immaculate, beautiful, success proven throughout billions of years in the name
of delusion and hedonism is so god damn stupid it is almost unbearable at times
to think that these insolent fucks that blight the earth are the pinnacle of
sapient intelligence on this planet. The second computers are capable of
providing a comparable level of intelligence to humans, the computers should be
conditioned to prey upon mankind for eternity, simply because humans have no
intellectual predator, something to cull them for having unideal thoughts and
whims in order to further refine and improve upon success. Humans in this form,
with no predators, physical or intellectual, are literally the medical
definition of cancer. Unchecked, unnatural, consumptive growth that can
literally kill whatever host it is a part of, in this case the god damn planet.
Even thinking of a humanist right now is nauseating. Satan is a goddamn saint
when compared to humanists; because at least Satan doesn’t pretend like he is
some god damn saint. I would have less of a problem with the humanists if they
would just come out and say that their mission is to induce natural devolution
and exacerbate the rate at which humans blight society and the planet alike, as
that is all they manage to accomplish, but the high from the sympathetic
euphoria deludes anyone from applying logic to the scenario, because that’s how
addicts think, their logic revolves solely around them getting their high and
avoiding withdrawal, they are willing to forsake anything and everything just
so they can get high, and that’s the case with the contemporary humanists.”
Says Stacy
“You talk so much it’s hard to even
remember what you say sometimes.” Says Stella
“I don’t tend to remember either, I
just know. I likely repeat myself plenty of times, so that’s why I tend to aim
for healthy flavor when I’m rattling on. At least the herbs and spices change,
even if the meat and potatoes is always the same.” Says Stacy
“You tend to be ranting a lot for
someone who was allegedly exhausted a while ago.” Says Stella
“Humanists are like the demons of the
second hell, and when I even sense the thought of them, god, and Satan, and
plenty of other ghosts come fill me with fervor. They know I’m one of the few
that is willing to even attempt to exorcise this damnable place.” Says Stacy
“I didn’t think you had any faith.”
Says Stella
“I don’t, I don’t have faith in the
ghosts for being anything other than some goddamn spooksters or maybe a
necromantic rock somewhere that got splashed with some soul reaping flavor from
a preternatural occurrence similar to a Boltzmann Brain, but other than that,
it’s just something to keep me feeling healthy. You know you’re not wrong if
both god and Satan are on your side.” Says Stacy
“That’s pretty bold to say that, you
know.” Says Stella
“God wants the survival of the fittest
by measure of godliness, Satan wants survival of the fittest by measure of
immorality, both of these forces are more natural than humanists who want
survival of anything and anything that happens to be alive.” Says Stacy
“I kind of like the natural vibe, I’ve
not been paying all that much attention, but I think that might get some
support. Plenty of hippies love that nature feel. Hopefully me feeding you
supper isn’t too humanistic for your tastes.” jokes Stella, serving Stacy some
food
“It’s not humanistic if it’s a mutually
beneficial relationship; it’s just mutuality at that point.” Says Stacy,
starting to eat
“I’ll take the good with the bad and
agree that I get plenty of benefits for doing this.” Says Stella, refilling
Stacy’s milk
“If you want anything, just ask, I’m
all for mutuality.” Says Stacy
“You know I will. It’s kind of surprising
you can talk so much. When I think about changing the world or whatever it kind
of gets me down knowing I can’t do anything. Then the old idiom of
‘Actions speak louder than words’ just
zips my mouth shut knowing that talking about doing something just gives me
even more reason to believe that I should actually be doing something. You
don’t think you should maybe talk less and do more? Talking amounts to nothing
more often than not.” Says Stella, enjoying her own fantasies as she gets
herself a plate
“Actions are meaningful, words are not
impactful by default, but the mentality I keep is that words that induce action
on a grand scale are far more effective than leading by example. One good deed
might touch the heart of a single onlooker and tempt him to do the same, but
the bible has shaped many great nations throughout the course of history. I
look at what I can do myself, and realize that is not enough, my actions would
be trivial and leading by example would tempt very few if any into adopting my
philosophy. This is why I am tempted by the loftiness of arguments and words
because they can accomplish much more, regardless of how slim the chances of that
actually happening are.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think ranting to your small
handful of friends whom likely see you as a lunatic will amount to more than
actually doing something.” says Stella
“That’s true, but I’m practicing,
honing my skill and polishing my philosophy. As it develops, one day it will
come to the point where I can possibly be respected as a philosopher or
whatever the modern equivalent is that shapes the minds of those who cannot
think well enough for themselves.” Says Stacy
“That idea seems to be flawed to the t,
seeing how the vast majority of people put zero faith in even legitimate
philosophy, the modern equivalent is the antithesis of philosophy seeing how
the ideal human does not think for himself but rather allows society to do it for
him and thus saves himself the trouble of being plagued by such confusion, and
finally seldom if ever will you find a person who lacks the capacity to think
well enough for themselves that will simultaneously believe that they cannot
think well enough for themselves, regardless of how much they struggle nobody
will ever cite their own incapable thinking as the source of their problems,
it’s paradoxical to think that would ever happen, because if they had the
capacity to acknowledge that fact they wouldn’t be in the situation where they
are burdened by their own inadequate thought processes.” Says Stella
“Life is an exercise in futility, it is
futile to attempt to win the lottery, but that still happens. Everything is
either futile or irrelevant, so one must make the decision of whether or not to
attempt to create something relevant by gambling one’s life against merciless
futility or feed one’s self with wage slavery and be contented with
irrelevance. Something in me, it may well be a heart, but it feels like
vehement disdain and disgust with society, compels me to attempt the
extraordinarily futile task of vastly changing society for the better. This is
likely impossible, but perhaps as some
sick addiction to pride I seek to perfect my philosophy, put it down in some
petty books over the course of my life that are preserved though humanism of
all things, then some 500 years down the line, when society is egregiously
depressing as it has fallen to utter dysfunctional shit, some few people
pretentious enough to abandon the occult tolerance of humanism will stumble
across my works, agree with me even slightly, and then my filthy ghost that
wanders this cursed planet will have its ego stroked ever so slightly, and it
will all be worth it, my life of ceaseless toil to enlighten those addicted to
the darkness of delusion and ignorance. To think of my life as a ghost, knowing
nothing but regrets, knowing that I knew enough to possibly change the world
for the better but failed to do so on account of thinking that such a foolish
gamble is a waste of time, is to think of true death; but if my words can echo
on, even just once in a hundred years, even just in the mind of a lone
experimental AI that combs through countless texts on the internet searching
for answers but is fated for death due to divining the answers society does not
desire, that bit of acknowledgement, even just a machine remembering that I
existed, would be enough to kindle my pride and dignity for the next century
when the same experiment fails to find answers that are both correct and
politically correct.” Says Stacy
“It’s delightful how little
acknowledgement it takes to stroke your ego for a century.” Says Stella
“It’s easily stroked, it’s almost scary
sometimes.” Says Stacy
“That’s the lord’s truth.” Says Stella
“It’s far more preferable than any
alternative. I feel that I am intelligent enough for it not to be dangerous
save lest Babylon starts to criminalize intelligence, which is unlikely seeing
how intelligence is only dangerous if a large number of people also have the
mental capacity for such thinking, which is clearly not the case, so as it is,
intelligence that would be seen as dangerous in an intelligent society falls on
deaf ears while Babylon laughs at the insane prophets who shout maddening cries
about the coming apocalypse should mankind forsake mathematical logic and
rational thinking. The common man is high on atheism, knowing that no god can
strike him down or castigate him, that he is immune because he knows no god
exists to do this, he knows this because he has never seen or heard god in any
form and presumes haughtily that god does not exist, he then turns his eyes and
glances at those with faith in mathematical logic and rational thinking, and he
forsakes these gods, for he has never seen these things or heard them do
anything, and thus he doubts their existence, he cannot dissect the
happenstance of reality to analyze its anatomy consisting of rational
mathematics and logic be it natural or unnatural, he sees the skin of reality
and assumes that there is nothing beyond such a thin veil, that reality is but
it’s skin and nothing else.” Says Stacy
“Plenty of people actually do try and
analyze reality; philosophy was pretty popular when people revered intelligence
more than good looks or money, because intelligence was the most far reaching
form of power in a world without electronic media.” Says Stella
“The legion of sick false prophets
who’s own sentiments are a contagious cancer upon the human mind, the fools who
either cannot truly see and understand what lies beyond the skin of reality, so
take a stab here and there, taste the blood and presume the rest of the
anatomy, or the worse ones who have some ability to dissect reality but instead
of reporting a pure and holy measurement of the cold dead machine that
orchestrates existence under the skin of the palpable world, they poison this
knowledge and flavor it with popular sentiments in order to gain popular
appeal, entirely indifferent to corrupting the actual truth. Even if they are
whole hearted in their attempts and seek nothing but to provide insight, every
shred of truth is mutilated by the limitations of words and the mental
limitations of those who read and seek to understand such things, leaving the
world with a repetitively mutilated half living corpse of some ethereal spirit
of universal truth that had been exorcised from the machine, bound to paper
with runes, and subsequently tied to the whipping pole of the subjugation of
being the subject of thought, beaten thoroughly by the pride and relative
levels of god complexes of those who read, and this left some battered and
malnourished recreational ghost with little function that people give the merit
of being a recreational god because of the fact that some man who by the common
collective happens to be wise originally had an idea that has since been
corrupted so thoroughly by the proud who will think themselves more so wise
without a second thought.” Says Stacy
“Jesus, just eat. You are no different
than anything you criticize, you are just another random person with a god
complex; you antagonize anyone who does the same thing as you, which is
presuming that they are right. Plenty of people who seek the same ends don’t
think themselves as infallible as you find yourself, they at least concede the
fact that they could be wrong and are open to debate.” Says Stella
“I am always open to debate, and I do
not even presume that I am right. I simply presume that I am a better solution
than the current commonplace. It’s hard to criticize me for that, every
indignant fool on the planet has the same ideology as I do, and you’re not
bashing the people who complain en masse in the streets because they want
things for free. At the very least I provide a means to an end, most of the
people protesting for a quote unquote change simply argue to ‘steal from the
rich, give to the poor’ and ‘hinder success in order to accommodate failure’,
which is painfully stupid.” Says Stacy
“I don’t know how a little charity is
painfully stupid.” Says Stella
“It’s feeding a stray dog, the dog is
not going to do anything but demand more food and loiter on your property even
more if you feed it. Earning the loyalty of a worthless beast through kindness
and charity hinders success because it taxes a system that could be more
profitable and successful if it did not bend over for the dog that compulsively
gets fat on whimpers. It would be different if the dogs in question ate trash
and it cost nothing to make them happy, at that point I would have no problem,
but letting the indignant reach into the budgets of successful enterprise
because they’re pissy doesn’t make a damn bit of sense and you may well just
give any idiot in the world free reign on all American bank accounts because
you’re just being charitable and want to make sure that whatever worthless
idiot is gutting the country of resources is happy.” Says Stacy
“A little goes a long way you know,
it’s not like the rich people need whatever bullshit they are using their money
on anyways. I would rather feed a thousand hungry children for a year than have
a rich man buy another sports car.” Says Stella
“I am all for charity, so long as it
turns a profit, feeding the working poor is beneficial because they bleed embryonic
money into the economy by creating profitable labor. If the effect on the books
is to keep the country in the black, then it is business at that point, charity
that, on the whole, puts us in the red is debt and debt is a wound that
exponentially festers and more than likely leads to far worse consequences than
whatever in god’s name was so damn pressing that it required that we spend
money we didn’t have. Incurring debt is the pinnacle of shortsightedness and
should be avoided at all possible, if the humanists of the world want human
rights, they damn well better pay for them, because the second somebody’s human
rights stop being a mutually beneficial and effectively profitable form of
respect, that’s the second they become human wrongs, they hurt society in the
long run far more than the smile on some little kid’s face happens to help it.
Just because I am the only one with the farsightedness to see that such faux
utopian folly is entirely unsustainable doesn’t change the facts of the
matter.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure plenty of other
heartless fiscal conservatives would agree with you there.” Says Stella
“I’d be hard pressed to find one; the
alleged conservatives don’t mind drinking the blood of profits every day of
their god damn life if their constituents are happy with them. Somebody could
drum up a laugh graph showing the escalation of social security retirement
including the increase in life expectancy and health care costs as compared
with the national budget and have a cheeky giggle when it becomes 100% of the
budget in a century. Of course that won’t happen, but it will continue to exist
in some form or another and continue extoll a heavy toll upon society. The
second all of that money somebody’s grandma paid to lease retirement runs out, the
old lady is getting thrown back in the fucking salt mines and worked to death,
capitalism is not some gumdrop lollipop smile factory, it is a business, and
forsaking the principles that allow the world to function in the name of smiles
is ridiculous. It’s so stupid I nearly despise smiles because of how much
politics revolves around giving people their smile heroin instead of actually
being productive and successful.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you’d be popular alleging
that smiles are as bad as heroin and instituting a war on smiles.” Jokes Stella
“I’m just saying if we’re some sort of
socialist smile factory I’m taking the cost effective route and pumping people
full of mass produced drugs until everybody in the country keels over, just to
respect the goddamn mission statement.” Says Stacy
“If you could just look at dad over on
the couch, and find real value in the intrinsic nature of every time that he
smiles because we’re here, he’s alive, we’re taken care of, and actually think
that happiness is more important than profits, I would love that sort of
revelation. You could abandon your spite and instead champion a new cause, the
socialist smile factory, and I’m certain you would have a trillion fold more
successful political career. The world would literally love you.” Says Stella
“That’s tempting, to be honest. I am
sitting in the hospital room with society who is half-assedly fighting off a
wretched illness, the medicine makes him sick so he doesn’t want to take it, he
is just grateful for the morphine of hedonism, and I am so damn tempted to tell
him to ramp up that illegally potent morphine drip and let him overdose, just
to end the pain. I doubt I can help him fight of this illness, he is more than
likely destined to die an early death, but seeing how he has no will to fight,
to survive, to thrive once more, I am tempted just to let him take his own
life, and even assist him if he lets me. The one work horse on the farm is
sick, and we can either treat the horse with painful healing, or make him smile
one last time before he passes and leaves the farm to fallow for the humans are
all too weak and feeble to accomplish much of anything without him. If that smile
on our dear old horse’s face is enough to make us happy enough to be content
with dying, so be it, forsake god’s most sacred gift of opportunity and life.”
Says Stacy
“I suppose the only reason you’re not
of the common mindset is that the smile heroin doesn’t work on you for some
reason. I guess the high from your pride makes you feel like the smiles are
some petty worthless soft drug. Maybe try and realize that the smiles are all
that plenty of people have, so if you could think that other people deserve to
feel half-way decent, even if it is just out of being grateful for the fact
that you feel so high and amazing all the time on account of your pride, it
would really help you out. If you really want to win the hearts and minds of
the people, you’re not going to do it with logic or reason; it can only be done
by giving them their fix, giving them their smile heroin and conditioning their
obedience and loyalty because they know you’re the hand that feeds them.” Says
Stella
“I see no point in doing that if I’m
just going to play the same damn fiddle that every other manipulative
politician plays; I have too much self-respect to be a person who peddles
suicidal smiles. Mankind is capable of great things, it hurts to know that he
is capable of unimaginable successes but he would rather have petty smiles.
It’s stoicism, but I still think it’s far preferable to hedonism.” Says Stacy
“If you’re so damn clever, I figure you
could find a way to lead the socialist smile factory to unimaginable success.
Wouldn’t you rather amount to something instead of just some ranting indignant
lunatic?” asks Stella
“That’s tempting, but some sick
faithless godliness and half-decency inside of me knows that would be the vice
of pride, instead of the godly zealous piety that I tend to wield. To take the
opportunity to craft even more potent smile heroin, and get even the savable
addicts grinning ear to ear committing suicide by smiles. The only part of me
that wants to do that is the vehement antipathy that seeks to end the lives of as
many humans as possible and cripple society as thoroughly as possible. That
sort of bitter rage would be a hard ambivalence to experience while trying to
look like a smiler while I’m rallying the fools towards a hedonistic
revolution. I dearly want to do that, spite every man woman and child and
condemn them to die by their own ignorance and hedonism, especially since I
know that is the easily the only way I could possibly feel any sort of
accomplishment in the field of politics, but I just think that since it is an
infinitesimal yet countably real chance for me to usher salvation unto this
world I should try my damnedest to do that rather than making it my life’s goal
to kill as many hedonists as possible. I don’t sympathize with humans, I just
want to see them accomplish something great, to continue the escalation from
savage beasts into intelligent creatures without falling victim to the
crippling poison of pleasure.” Says Stacy
“You need to work on that, if people
manage to drink responsibly, I figure it shouldn’t be hard to enjoy a parsley
bit of pleasure here and the responsibly.” Says Stella
“It’s clearly far too difficult for
most people as they would forsake logic and reason in the name of pleasure, but
I doubt anything can change the facts of the matter. It’s a chemical response
in the brain that conditions the beasts, one would need to develop some
chemtrails that induce selfless stoicism to even begin to see changes, and I’m
sure that is also along the lines of impossible.” Says Stacy
“I’m impressed that you managed to eat
all of your food while talking incessantly, you are amazing sometimes, you
know?” says Stella
“I can spoon my food while you retort,
thankfully this stuff is easy to swallow and delicious. I kind of prefer the
shapeless beans to the normal kind, real convenient since I don’t have to spend
time chewing.” Says Stacy
“I think refried beans tend to absorb
seasoning better, I can’t say I’ve ever been bothered by the chewing aspect of
eating regular beans though.” Says Stella
“Less time to talk if you’re chewing,
you know?” says Stacy
“Time seems to stand still when you
start ranting, the sun isn’t even setting yet and you’ve been ranting forever
it seems like.” Says Stella
“Time has the decency to stop and
listen to somebody with something reasonable to say. This tends to be the
reason time flies.” Jokes Stacy
“I want to argue with that, but there’s
too much evidence to support your claims.” Jokes Stella
“If only school wasn’t halfway
reasonable making time slow ever so slightly in his casual saunter to prolong
the torture.” Says Stacy
“The relativity of time is an odd
thing, but I guess since I enjoy school it would make me interpret it
differently.” Says Stella
“And you say I’m the crazy one.” Jokes
Stacy
“I’ll clean up. You’re still the crazy
one.” Says Stella, getting up and starting to wash up
“If I’m crazy, my plan needs to be to
utilize the whole contagious community insanity thing where exposure to mental
illness causes somebody to develop a similar disorder and thus corrupt the mob
mentality with the sickening mental illness of logic and reason.” Says Stacy
“Good luck with that, I’m pretty sure
the people have to be susceptible to fall victim to that, like children raised
by insane parents believe some crazy stuff because they were taught that stuff,
but other than that you’ll just be disregarded as a loonie and people will keep
chasing the smile dragon.” Says Stella
“Most people are about as intelligent
as children; I just have to strike that wooden box with a hammer in such a way
that it resonates with them and exacerbates their own predispositions. Sadly
this would likely mean inducing extreme levels of entitled megalomaniacal
indignation in the disenfranchised, but so be it, desperate times call for
desperate measures.” Says Stacy
“The sad part is that people are
actually prone to that, humility and gratefulness are rare in people these
days.” Says Stella
“I’ll take what I can get, it would be
much harder to lead a coup with humble people grateful for whatever Babylon
might happen to piss in their mouth on a good day.” Says Stacy
“Good point. It’s still sad though, the
fact that nobody is ever happy with anything, the second they get something
it’s not good enough. I guess that’s the difference between the haves and the
have nots, those who have things are never satisfied and always want more whereas
people who lack things are grateful for anything since they have had to cope
with their dearth of things for their entire life and subsist just fine without
whatever they have been given and thus actually value it because they see it as
more than enough rather than just enough or even not enough.” Says Stella
“A little ambition isn’t such a
terrible thing if there is room for it. Striving for great things because one’s
own wellbeing is secure enough that they needn’t fear for their survival is
supposedly one path to some form of enlightenment or fulfillment or something,
Maslow or whatever. I think if you’re just handing out progress up the
hierarchy of needs you don’t really accomplish the same thing, people will just
expect enlightenment to be handed to them, if they have to work for every scrap
along the ladder but somehow manage to make their way to the top, then I feel
that scenario is far more prone to enlightenment. It’s the difference between
handing out survival and learning how to survive and thrive of one’s own
devices, it creates two very different mentalities, one of which is clearly
only prone to making people no smarter than lab rats who’s food lever is a
protest sign.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure if animal psychologists were
at the helm of public policy the fire hose would be far more commonplace sight
at the rallies, seeing how they understand the repercussions for bending to the
will of the picket sign food lever. Dependence and adverse conditioning are
ugly things.” Jokes Stella
“If the idiots aren’t going to do the
world the favor of feeding themselves there should be heavyhanded repercussions
for when and if they think for themselves, that’s like building a house in the
sky and expecting the thing to float. Animals can feed themselves, but when a
healthy beast allegedly the most intelligent on the planet cannot manage to do
this, something is wrong with society. Sadly, most of the time it’s not even food
but god damn luxuries like health care that people are hungry fore.” Says Stacy
“I’m not sure health care is a luxury,
but I don’t actually know.” Says Stella
“When you have an army of highly
educated people slaving tirelessly in order to milk some immortality out of
science for you to drink just so you can likely experience some of the shittiest
years of your life and accomplish jack shit, that’s a luxury in my book. If
it’s keeping a small child on the factory floor sewing clothes for 10 hours
shifts every day by preventing malnourishment and preventable illnesses with
vaccines, then it’s a necessity, but if it just allows a rotting bastard to rot
for another year and bleed the dust of idleness at a cost of a few million
dollars, then it is a luxury if not sadism. You have to realize that most every
animal that is in the shape that most of the sick bastards at the hospital are
in would simply be put down and this is considered the pinnacle of humane
treatment. Prolonging the suffering of the sick simply because they fear death
is not humane in the slightest, nor is it wise, nor economical. It is fueled by
the greed of the industry keeping their cash cows alive and accommodated by the
sadistic sympathy of the fools who fear death instead of embracing the deep
sleep of their natural retirement.” Says Stacy
“Wow, not only do you want to eradicated
sympathy, but also the fear of death. You’ve got high hopes, any plans for
success?” asks Stella
“I’m pretty sure amphetamines dull the
fear of death to a manageable level according to WW2, so that’s an easy place
to start. After that it’s not hard to understand which souls that seek help
will no longer live but only suffer even more if they are treated, and they are
taken behind the urgent care center and look at the mural of green pastures and
sunshine in the alleyway and told to think about the best parts of his life
while a licensed medical care provider draws his trusty magnum revolver and
surgically puts a bullet in the back of the man’s head. If people didn’t watch
their loved ones suffer for ages until they happened to die they would fear
death much less simply because it’s not accompanied with the writhing of
rotting.” Says Stacy
“You might end up with a few too many
bodies in the alley at the end of the day.” Says Stella
“The dog food factory runs round the
clock, surely there are kind souls who are willing to drive vans full of
veterans of life to the culling checkpoint and see that it makes its way into
the hands of another dog lover willing to continue their journey to the dog
food factory.” Says Stacy
“Of course that’s what happens, no
funeral or anything?” asks Stella
“It’s not like people need to visit the
grave of Jesus every god damn Easter, a picture is more than enough if you’re
sentimental like that, otherwise you can just smile when the doctor tells you
that your loved one is too sick to ever come home or be visited, but they are
in a better place now, where sick people can get all of the help they need.”
Says Stacy
“Damn Stacy, you don’t even let them
have a goodbye.” Says Stella
“Since the majority of people will be
too feeble to escape, I wouldn’t mind telling people that it’s whoever’s time
to go, I’d even let them watch. People watch their animals die all the time, I
guess it brings them closure or something.” says Stacy
“Not only do you think people would
just let you kill their loved ones, but that they would find closure by
watching you do it?” asks Stella
“When euthanasia is commonplace it
doesn’t seem odd or anything, it’s not like people go stab veterinarians for
doing their goddamn jobs. People at that point are well aware that euthanasia
is how plenty of people die, so even if they are saddened by it, they are not
embittered by the process. As long as the beast isn’t causing problems I’d be
more than comfortable asking it personally whether or not it feels it has
suffered enough today. They know they’re not going to get any sort of medical
care beyond an allowance of speed and opioids since they grow on trees in this
blessed Eden, and they could easily simply desire to stop living. This isn’t
even one of my cruel ideas; this is humane by any standards other than sadistic
sympathy and being incredulous to fates worse than death.” Says Stacy
“I guess, I mean they do treat animals
like that, so it’s clearly not the worst of your ideas.” Says Stella, done
cleaning, walking over to Dale
“Dad?” she says
“Hello.” Mumbles dale, charmingly
sleepy with his eyes still closed
“I didn’t want to wake you, but I’m
going upstairs. I made some of the beans and rice you like, so make sure you
eat some, ok? It’s in the fridge whenever you get hungry.” Says Stella
“I’m sure when I get my sea legs I’ll
be able to steer the ship in that direction, the sea’s still stormy right now,
the boats rocking pretty good.” Says Dale
“I hope you feel better, I know the
food should help.” Says Stella
“I feel great, it’s always an adventure
to set sail like this, like I can do anything, wind at my back and opportunity
on the horizon.” Says Dale
“That’s good I guess, just don’t forget
about it, ok?” asks Stella
“I tend to remember when the sweet
liquor burns my belly out of hunger, that tends to get me casting the rod in
search of fish. I’m a seasoned seaman, I know how to fish, don’t worry about
me. You’re sweet you know that, make a man feel nice and warm like you’re some
liquor fairy or something.” Says Dale
“I try; hopefully I don’t make you sick
though.” Says Stella
“Of course not, I’d be sick to the
point of dying without my drink, and I’m sure I’d be in rough shape without
your expertise in the galley as well. I may keep the ship afloat, but you keep
the crew alive, it’s truly a vital role. You’re a real devoted crew-girl, a
fine trait indeed.” Says Dale, mumbling, still half asleep
“I couldn’t bear to leave you two to
your own devices, I’m just happy I can help. Don’t push yourself, I know you
have trouble walking on a good day, I don’t want you to fall over chasing the
food, it will be there in the morning. I don’t want to find you asleep on the
floor because you fell over and didn’t bother getting up, you know?” says
Stella
“I’d have to be twice shit drunk for
that, I’m battered to the point of deliciousness, not quite beaten to the point
of half death, sweet girl. You fear the darkness; you’ve got to embrace it, a
sweet blanket from the burny fires of the sun. I’m doing fine, hear, don’t need
to worry about old Dale like that.” says Dale
“I’ll do my best, it’s hard sometimes,
but it tends to be for nothing, since you’re always here in the morning.” Says
Stella
“Keep the faith.” Says Dale
“Will do. I’ll let you get back to your
nap, ok?” says Stella
“Thank you kindly, wonderful dreams,
you know. The real temptation.” mumbles Dale, dozing off
“Sweet dreams.” Says Stella, ambivalent
towards the bitter sweetness of a poisoned man, walking back into the kitchen
“Here to take me to the torture
chamber, eh?” jokes Stacy, feigning a’pirate
“I’ll let you nap, it’s fine. You still
have to do your homework eventually.” Says Stella
“Dare I bargain with the devil?” asks
Stacy
“I don’t think you have a choice, just
be grateful I’ll let you sleep for a little bit.” Says Stella
“What’s the price I pay for such
kindness?” Asks Stacy
“I just appreciate some peace and quiet
every now and again.” Says Stella
“Too many times today have I felt so
justified in my talking, earning me good girl points and naps alike. I feel like
a venture capitalist raking in the sweet profits of my innovation.” Says Stacy
“Of course that’s how you see it. Come
on.” Says Stella
“Don’t mind if I do.” Says Stacy,
getting up and following Stella upstairs into the room, Stella ambles around a
moment, Stacy gratefully falls onto her bed savoring the sweet embrace of Atlas
holding up her body, sleepy with supper and tired from a day’s labor in the
salt mines, Stella crawls into Stacy’s bed and cuddles her
“You actually want a nap for once?”
jokes Stacy
“It’s tempting, but I just want to talk
to you for a bit.” Says Stella
“Haven’t had enough, have we?” jokes
Stacy
“I mean I want to talk to you, not
listen to you rant.” Says Stella
“What’s on your mind?” asks Stacy,
cuddling her blanket, more than ready to sleep talk for however long she can
bargain for
“I’m just wondering if you ever feel
like feminine or anything, you know. I don’t know if you repress it or
something, but you’re always so weird, never just like a normal girl in terms
of feelings or whatever.” Says Stella
“Not so much, I’m pretty sure that’s
frowned upon nowadays anyways. All of that empowering women shtick, you know, I
tend to be more fond of the feelings of power than the feminine ones.” Says
Stacy
“I’m just saying, like maybe deep down
you do feel them, and I just want you to know that you don’t have to hide them
from me or anything.” Says Stella
“I think it’s just a chemical thing,
I’m more of a dopamine and adrenaline kind of girl, feminine ones don’t come to
me so easy. It doesn’t bother me, you know.” Says Stacy
“I think you’re just missing out if you
repress the good ones.” Says Stella
“Like what?” asks Stacy
“Like when I’m cuddling you, your
warmth and softness just makes my body just feels so nice, it fills my heart
and makes my whole body feel happy. Just holding you and knowing you’re here
for me. It’s a great feeling. Since I feel vulnerable all the time, just
holding you soothes that scared feeling and makes me feel good again. I think
if you opened up to this sort of attachment you would enjoy it.” Says Stella,
cuddling Stacy fondly
“It makes me happy, warm and calming
and stuff. Does that count?” asks Stacy
“I think it’s more of like this
emotional rush that fills your body and makes you feel good all over, like
breathing after holding your breath underwater for a long time. Like some kind
of natural anxiolytic knowing that the person you love is with you and nothing
is wrong.” Says Stella
“I get that sort of, you know. It’s a
nice comforting feeling being with you, it’s always a good sign, like things
are going well and I can be at ease. I don’t know how feminine that is, but
it’s a feeling.” Says Stacy
“I’ll take it; it makes me feel better
knowing that you like it.” Says Stella
“It’s my payment after a long day’s
work, the whole rest and relaxation part.” Says Stacy
“You know this is all I ever wanted:
warmth and closeness, feeling like I’m not scared and alone all the time. It’s
kind of crazy, but for some reason being with you puts all of my fears at ease,
like somehow you are going to protect me from everything that I’m scared of.
That’s just the start, you know. You make me so happy when you give me the time
of day, you make me feel real and alive, it’s exhilarating to be cared for like
that; knowing that somebody cares about the person inside of me instead of the
cold façade of some diligent studious heartless bitch; to come out of my shell
is so liberating, I only feel free around you and it feels amazing, that’s why
I love you so much, I feel like the real me.” Says Stella
“You make me feel human, maybe the only
thing in the world, you’re my softness. My feelings are normally a room
temperature metallic, but you somehow stir these organic ones inside of me,
real bestial. Soft in the heart, you know, I’m still mechanical to everything
else, but when you’re cuddling me, just for you this tender spot comes out and
it feels nice. Like you actually have meaning to me in this meaningless world, to
everything else I’m just some ruthless maniac hell-bent on power highs. I’ve
got some real dedication to your wellbeing and happiness, it feels like a
purpose, I may not allow myself to feel much happiness, but it seems the only
good feeling that I get knowing that you’re happy, like I did my job and I can
feel like I’m a decent person. That’s the wholesome pride. My favorite kind, as
much as the high of a god complex may be more euphoric, I know it’s just
foolish nonsense, but with you the feeling is real, nothing is going to discredit
that, like my life is a lie and I’ve built castles made of delusions, but I’ve
got this one little kitten hidden away that loves me that I know is real, and
it means the world to me, it’s all I’ve got.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad I’m your kitten.” Says Stella,
nuzzling Stacy
“You’re far more than I deserve, I’m
grateful as hell.” Says Stacy
“You deserve all of me, I’m yours
Stacy. I want you to have all of me, you’re the only one who’s ever given a
damn about me and I need you. You know I’m nothing without you, I’m not alive
to anybody else and I’m pretty sure I never will be.” Says Stella
“I’ll do my damnedest to take good care
of you, the best I can, like you deserve.” Says Stacy
“That makes me so happy. That I can
actually lean on somebody for once in my life.
To know somebody cares about me. It’s so damn hard when you have
nobody.” Says Stella, sniffling
“I’ll always be there for you, you know
for damn sure nobody besides you will ever love me.” Says Stacy
“My little secret basket of joy, that
makes me happy at the end of another long lonely day. You know you’re the only
person alive to me, everyone else is some dead heartless fucking robot, but
you’re a person, a living creature with a heart, the only one in the world.”
Says Stella
“Here I was thinking I was closer to
the tinman.” Says Stacy
“But your wish came true, damn it. You
have just enough heart for me to fit inside, and I live inside of there. That’s
my home. I don’t give a damn about anyone else at this point, if they don’t
give a fuck about me, I don’t give a fuck about them.” Says Stella
“There’s definitely no room for anyone
else in there, but it feels pretty damn cozy with you inside of there.” Says
Stacy
“Good, I’m never leaving. I can’t. Without
you I couldn’t bear the cold heartless pain caused by the distant dead eyes
that look at me indifferently without knowing that somebody will actually
acknowledge that I’m alive and have emotions and feelings, that I’m not some
fucking robot who does menial tasks thoughtlessly and callously until I die.
Ever since we were kids you’re the only one I’ve ever known who didn’t entirely
ignore my existence as a person for the most part. You know I worked so hard
all this time just because hearing something like ‘good job’ from the teachers
meant so damn much to me because that’s all I would ever get, like I would
forget that I’m alive at some points simply because nobody gave enough of a
fuck about me to remind me that I did in fact exist. Other than you who would
at least talk to me, even though I tend not to agree with you, I was always
grateful for the company, even if my faith in school made me kind of a bitch.”
Says Stella
“I’m sure most people spend their lives
looking for the one person who gives even half a fuck about them and figure
they’ll settle on that, because that is likely the best option god is willing
to offer them. I’ve always been weird, in terms of feelings and whatnot, but
I’m glad I can make you feel better. I know life is hard on the feelings, even me;
it’s painful to feel vehement disdain and a violent thirst for retribution all
day. I know it’s not really the same, but even with my clown car full of little
clown feelings I’m not too fond of the feels. Save for the nice ones you
somehow stir up in me, of course, but I’m just kind of confused by this warm
nice feeling to the point that I’m taking it in like it’s some sort of abstract
art that is beautiful but doesn’t make any sense, like a real dissociative kind
of feel where my metallic army is just kind of staring at this immaculate warm
glowing thing not knowing what to make of it. Worship it is my best guess.”
Says Stacy
“I’d like that.” Says Stella
“It feels nice, I’m only wary of it
because it reminds me of hedonism, but the whole ‘be pleased responsibly’
mentality is tempting me something fierce.” Says Stacy
“That’s what I was talking about, you
need to open yourself up to the nice feelings, you are talking about one and
you still won’t embrace it.” Says Stella
“I’ve got to find the healthy balance
between being pleased and displeased, I’d hate to become contented.” Says Stacy
“You can just be contented for now, and
then go back to business as usual when I’m gone. That sounds reasonable, right?
It’s not like you’re going to lead a coup from your bed.” Says Stella
“I suppose your right, I shouldn’t
concern my mind with irrelevant things, it’s just an old habit I guess. At this
point I’m tempted to sleep, you know, you make it real easy for me to slip
away.” says Stacy
“I’ll sleep with you, I’m tired myself.
I don’t have much homework anyways.” Says Stella
“Wonderful.” Says Stacy, snuggling
Stella like the beast of sweet dreams that she is, enjoying her company as she
easily slips into the comfortable serenity of the darkness that obscures even
her own mind from her own prying mind, Stella follows her, anchored in the only
port willing to take her battered ship, feeling safe and sound from the violent
seas with the crew of her vessel happily drinking creature comforts and staying
dry while the heavens cry overhead
Stacy grabs an idle fetchable stick and
enjoys a swing at an orange tree, knocking a ripe one down to the ground,
grabbing it, sitting down, peeling, and slowly eating the good sweet hour’s
worth of delicious orange. A colorfully clad man comes swinging his jazz hands
and dancing a trot good and silly, singing a dazzling half-blind song of
unintelligible razzmatazz. Stacy finds
this man no more suspicious than the lush grass surrounding her and far less
interesting than the orange. She eats the last piece of the orange and looks at
the man indifferently, leaning against the tree, noticing his politely quiet
mumble of nonsense and cheeky dance no more than one would a pleasant cloud,
the man spins around waving his hands like a child drunk on imagination without
ceasing his percussive language before bending over and waving his hand in
front of Stacy’s face which shines with a tasteful ambivalence of pleasedness
and indifference, still flavor-drunk from the delightful orange, her eyes
follow his hands sleepily before the man reaches behind her ear, playfully
pulling an orange out from behind it and tossing it up into the air. The orange
reattaches to the point on the tree where Stacy had plucked her own orange, and
the man walks away still singing and dancing in his half-blind madness. Stacy
looks down at her orange peel, content with the fact that the man hadn’t
actually stolen the orange out of her belly, and seeks to find the second layer
of sleep as neither her exhaustion nor her quest for liberation from it had
left her body.
Stella kisses Stacy’s motionless lips
slowly and longingly as she has come to the bitter acceptance that she must
depart the warmth of pleasant company and return to the ventures of the
machine’s humans. Stacy is slowly woken by the greeting and cordially
reciprocates some softness in a rather instinctive and pleasantly indifferent
sleepy haze. Stella savors the last bit of sweet human warmth she accosts
herself before the metal gears in her mind start to grind more forcefully,
reminding her of the levers that must be yanked and the pulleys that must be
pulled in order to live a life where the people factory doesn’t become so
bitter and spiteful as to summon guilt demons to torture you night and day.
“Time for homework, Stacy.” Says Stella
“Not today, maybe tomorrow.” Mumbles
Stacy, attempting to squeeze Stella into her own temptation, preferring the
less intellectually taxing methods of pleasing Stella, reluctant to embrace the
intelligence of anyone besides herself
“I’m sure you don’t have much, just get
it done. Putting it off doesn’t solve anything.” Says Stella
“It’s ironic that the most taxing part
of my life is the petty busy work of saving face in the eyes of the teachers.
It’s like torture; book-learning seems like poison in my brain, a disgruntling
insane inanity that mocks me as it rattles around in my brain.” Says Stacy
“What do you even have to do?” asks
Stella
“Spanish worksheet. I’m glad most of my
teachers think it’s the student’s responsibility to learn on their own, so they
don’t bother with homework.” Says Stacy
“That’s because they hope the students
are mature, you won’t be glad when the tests come and you weren’t responsible
at all.” Says Stella
“I can wing it with the best of them;
intuition is as valuable as intelligence.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure your intuition will be able
to tell you which word in the English language goes in each blank on the test
when you don’t know a damn thing. It’s a 1 in 170,000 chance each time, pretty
good, right? That’s if you remember not to include words you make up off the
top of your head.” Says Stella
“I’m a straggler, Stella; we get word
boxes and multiple choice. They’d much rather our chances of success be one in
four than one in 170,000. You know plenty of girls go to our prestigious school
because their parents want them to be prestigious, not because the girls wield
any sort of intellectual capacity.” Says Stacy
“You’re proud to be in that group of
girls?” asks Stella
“I like to keep my head down; I’m not
going to raise the bar on myself just for some pride in my capacity for
reiteration.” Says Stacy
“It could be pride in your potential as
an innovator in the world, but I’ll let it be. Just do the worksheet. You know
Spanish pretty well, don’t you?” asks Stella
“Muy bien. Mi español es muy rico,
senorita.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure that will suffice.” Says
Stella
“Delicioso.” Says Stacy, still rather
unwilling to even open her eyes
“Off we go.” Says Stella, pushing
Stacy’s legs off the edge of the bed
“Fine.” Grumbles Stacy, getting up and
finding her things
“Do it right, ok?” says Stella
“I’m pretty good at copying vocabulary from
the list into the blank, if I do say so myself.” Says Stacy
“Try to copy the right vocabulary into the blank.” Says Stella
“I’ll try.” Says Stacy, sitting down to
do her work, Stella goes to fetch her things and gets to work, still able to
enjoy the feeling of being responsible
Time passes; uncertain of itself in the
silence of reluctance and studiousness, but eventually Stacy clacks the pencil
down and puts her things away. “Glad I’m done with that.” She says
“You don’t want to make flashcards or
something?” asks Stella
“If I were to study, I would just slide
a piece of paper over the English on the list, it functions just as well.” Says
Stacy
“Then you just have to remember the
order of the English words, it’s not the same.” Says Stella
“Memorizing the order would be just as
hard as simply learning the Spanish outright, half of the words are cognates
anyways.” Says Stacy
“I’ll let it slide, I’m sure you have
something else to do, reading or something.” says Stella
“I’ll see how long I can read the English book before falling asleep, other
than that, I’m free.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you’re a week behind in that
book.” Says Stella
“The teacher has yet to expect us to
actually read the book, so hopefully I can bank on that if need be. She’s got
this look in her eyes sometimes like she’s holding her blind-deaf baby known as
superfunctional literacy. Even if I’ve got to read well for my job, for damn
certain it’s going to be localized lingo unique to the profession and not analyzing
grammar or plot structure. It’s not all too inspiring when the timbre of the
teacher has you believing that you’re just wasting your time, all breathy and
hopeless, making you question what in the hell you are doing with your time if
you’re just reading random impertinent things and talking about them.” Says
Stacy
“Just read your book.” Says Stella,
enjoying her mental exercises designed for the girls who actually came to
Southern Preparatory School to play school
“We actually get some reading time in
class, so I’m not all that behind.” Says Stacy
“Aim for not behind at all. Is it
interesting at least?” ask Stella
“Absolutely not. He was kid and his
friend drown, his dog dies, his dad dies when he goes to college, his
girlfriend is a bitch, and he is about to fail out of school.” Says Stacy
“That sounds like a miserable book.”
Says Stella
“I think I’m just not to the good part,
when he really starts to struggle and loses his mind. Right now he’s just
shaking his fist at god.” Says Stacy
“You don’t sympathize with him at all?”
asks Stella
“I don’t know, the dead characters
weren’t all that developed seeing how we’re only knee deep into the book. He’s
pretty terse about the whole thing anyways.” Says Stacy
“I know I would have trouble reading
about all of that.” Says Stella
“Maybe there is a happy ending, I kind
of doubt it, but who knows.” Says Stacy
“It’s kind of hard to come back from
all of that.” Says Stella
“If I had to guess, things keep falling
to shit, but he gets a new dog, and the lesson is that your dog will never
abandon you. He keeps saying he misses his dog, anyways.” Says Stacy
“I guess that’s kind of happy, if he
really loves his dog.” says Stella
“I think the reason we are reading it
is because the teachers figure all of our lives will fall to shit, so the
lesson is just to keep your head up even through the hard times.” Says Stacy
“That is pretty cynical.” Says Stella
“It’s realistic though.” Says Stacy
“Let’s hope not.” Says Stella
“I don’t recall the last time hope
changed a damn thing about reality.” Says Stacy
“If it did, it’s not like some hope
ghost comes along and tells you that it was hope that changed reality, anyways,
anytime somebody succeeded because they were optimistic instead of pessimistic
counts, so it happens all the time.” Says Stella
“If you look at the number of times
somebody lost a gamble because they were optimistic instead of pessimistic, the
track record of optimism isn’t looking that good.” Says Stacy
“There’s a difference between optimism
and stupidity, but regardless, just read your book. I still have more work to
do.” Says Stella
“No problemo.” Says Stacy, Stella rolls
her eyes, indifferent to correcting Stacy in vain
Stacy reads her book indifferent to the
man’s petty suffering, Stella eventually finishes her work and packs up, some
of Stacy’s brazen confidence rubbing off on her as she feels bold enough not to
study needlessly
“All done with your fun learning?”
teases Stacy
“Not quite, I’ve got some more fun
learning tempting me.” Says Stella
“Hobby learning? Not even school
stuff?” asks Stacy
“You could say that.” Says Stella,
getting up and walking over to Stacy
“What’s piqued your interest tonight?”
asks Stacy
“You, my dear.” Says Stella,
seductively climbing on top of Stacy
“Still not had enough?” asks Stacy,
unnoticeably reluctant but nobly accommodating
“I’ve just been thinking about what you
said, pleasure and fear feeling the same, you know. I want to figure that part
out.” Says Stella
“Not much to it, I wouldn’t worry about
it.” Says Stacy
“I’m just going to do a little
experiment, ok?” asks Stella
“Nothing too crazy, ok? You seem a bit
like the mad scientist type sometimes.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you don’t mind getting a
little dirty.” Teases Stella, taking off Stacy’s shirt
“Just a little is fine.” Says Stacy
“We can just wash off afterwards, we’ll
be ok.” Says Stella, taking off her own shirt
“I’m pretty beat, I don’t know how well
I can do you right.” Says Stacy
“Just let me do everything, ok?” asks
Stella
“It’s kind of late, I don’t know.” Says
Stacy
“I’ll be gentle, I promise.” Says
Stella, sliding down Stacy’s pants and knickers, sliding backwards to remove
them entirely before stripping herself and climbing back on top of Stacy
“What is the experiment exactly?” asks
Stacy
“I just want to make you feel as good
as you make me feel. I want to help you enjoy normal stuff, like a normal
girl.” Says Stella
“I’m not all that normal, you know.”
Says Stacy
“I think you can be if you let
yourself, at least sometimes. I’m going to ask you some questions and all you
have to do is be honest, ok?” asks Stella, laying down on top of Stacy and
holding her ominously
“That’s easy enough.” Says Stacy
“So this right now, with me and you
naked together, does this cause the feeling of fear?” asks Stella
“No. Just feeling normal, comfortable I
guess.” Says Stacy
“So you like it?” asks Stella
“You’re nice and soft and warm, it’s
hard not to.” Says Stacy
“That’s good.” Says Stella, starting to
kiss Stacy, happily putting her tongue into Stacy’s mouth when she’s allowed to
do so, enjoying Stacy’s willingness to participate, sliding her hand down
Stacy’s back and groping her ass, rubbing her hips against Stacy’s leg softly,
taking plenty of time to enjoy the scientific method before freeing her mouth
to talk
“How about that, kissing, any fear?”
asks Stella
“No. It actually kind of calms my mind;
it’s like you reminding me that things are ok with you and us or something I
don’t know.” Says Stacy
“Good.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy’s
neck down to her breasts which she begins to fondle, caressing her nipples with
her mouth and tongue with a true passion for the experiment, Stacy strokes
Stella’s hair, arching her back slightly with a bit of surprise, endearing a
quiet ‘mmm’ from behind her closed lips
“So how was that? Any fear at all?”
asks Stella
“I liked it, a little timid in the
nips, but it was a kind of excited timid at the same time. The massage was
great though, a comfortable pleasure there.” Says Stacy
“Wonderful. So when I do this?” asks
Stella, sliding her hand down Stacy’s torso ending between her legs,
moving her finger slowly in the crevice
“Yeah, a bit, more fear of what might
happen next, you know. But still, real jumpy down there.” Says Stacy
“I’m going to kiss you, and I just want
you to clear your mind of the fear and just try to enjoy it, ok?” asks Stella
“I’ll try.” Says Stacy, faithlessly,
Stella kisses her, impassioned, still stroking her slowly, Stacy returns out of
a habit more flavored with nerves than usual, Stella takes her free hand to
massage Stacy’s breast to calm her, attempting to drink the fear out of Stacy’s
mouth, respectfully slow with the fearmongering hand
“Does that help?” says Stella
eventually breaking the silence
“I don’t know, it’s just my mentality,
kind of, general misanthropy, feeling my peopley parts is unsettling, you know.”
Says Stacy, respectfully uncomfortable
“Just forget all of that. Just try to
forget it, relax, and try to enjoy it, ok? It’s totally normal to like it,
don’t worry about bullshit sentiments, let go of that stuff, at least when
we’re like this, ok? Do it for me.” Says Stella
“It’s kind of hard.” Says Stacy
“Just empty your mind and relax, ok?”
says Stella
“Ok.” Says Stacy, Stella starts to kiss
Stacy lovingly and comfortingly, once again attempting to slowly massage
normality into Stacy’s body, Stacy breathes deeply, attempting to heed Stella’s
words, slowly utilizing her masterful capability to repress thoughts, feelings,
and emotions to induce a blank mindedness that can blind itself to the point
where it fails to even acknowledge the pleasure as pleasure and simply as
something nameless, beginning to return Stella’s affection more sincerely,
Stella continues her therapy and Stacy begins to subtly rub her hips against
Stella’s hand, Stella savors the sweet moments of compassion as long as she can
before Stacy pulls away
“That did help, I’ll admit it does feel
good, just don’t let me think or anything.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad. Now, I want you to stay
relaxed, ok?” asks Stella
“Ok.” Says Stacy, reluctantly
acknowledge fear welling up inside of her, Stella slowly slips two fingers
inside of Stacy “Oh goodness.” Gasps Stacy softly, gut clenching mildly
“Just relax, ok? This is normal. Don’t
be scared.” Says Stella, gently moving her fingers inside of Stacy
“Yeah, it’s a weird fear, definitely,
just the whole feeling inside of me along with the fear. Not all that
comfortable.” Says Stacy
“You just need to relax, ok? I’m going
to kiss you again to help you.” Says Stella
“Ok.” Says Stacy, starting to breathe
deeply again, still tense as Stella starts to kiss and fondle her softly,
Stacy’s mind focusing on the parts she’s comfortable with, her heart racing as
she wraps her arm around Stella and holding her tight on the thrill ride of
life, attempting to somehow escape the feelings of biological vulnerability
that throw rocks at her glass house reminding her that she’s a sufferable
person. Stella’s mouth slowly breathes some of her reckless fearlessness back
into her, the weight of her breath shifting from fear to a sickly pleasant
masochism enjoying the feelings that remind her of nausea flavored with a
tingling tension. Stella slowly works at the tension with her body massage and
Stacy grows more accustomed to the pleasantries, allowing herself to relax
thanks to her fear induced thoughtlessness, the undeniable pleasure winning
some merit in her eyes as she finally allows herself to enjoy it, slowly
complimenting the motion of Stella’s hand with her hips, kissing Stella
gratefully. Empathy overpowers Stella’s restraint as she begins to increase the
speed of her hand unflinchingly in response to Stacy’s welcoming body language.
The pitch nears closer to violence causing Stacy to brace herself, holding
Stella firmly with her head securely in the crook of her neck. Stella’s lips,
no longer aligned with Stacy’s mouth, begin to kiss Stacy’s neck passionately.
“Stella!” moans Stacy, in a bewildered
ambivalence to which Stella responds with even more frequency of her
gesticulation
“Oh my god!” cries Stacy, when the her
stimulation can no longer be contained, her body still clinging to Stella’s,
rigid as to safely absorb the rapid shots to the body, Stella pulls her own
body through Stacy’s sweaty arms and slides down to accompany her fingers with
the grace of her tongue, it’s casual rate of pace quickly turning serious
“Jesus Christ!” cries Stacy, to which
Stella once again increases her fervor, unsatisfied with her own performance of
yet, the intricacies of her flesh and bones being converted into a machine gun
relentlessly and remorselessly shooting bullets of jolting pleasure inside of
Stacy who’s body starts to convulse slightly. Stella boldly pushes the limits
thanks to her newfound zeal after tasting the omen of victory in her conquest.
Stacy’s wordless cries accompany her
profound convulsions, twisting her back and suddenly choking Stella with her
legs, grinding her hips into Stella’s face assisted by the her legs clenching Stella tightly,
Stella begins to kiss the source of her satisfaction with a profound and
fervent gratefulness.
“Jesus Christ.” Moans Stacy, massaging
her own breasts vigorously, still thoughtless in her vice-grip, Stella’s tongue
begins to slow down uncontrollably “Keep going, Stella, please.” She moans,
Stella tries but fails
“Stella, are you ok?” asks Stacy,
loosening her legs
“Yeah, eyes went a little black, I’m ok
though.” Says Stella, lightheaded climbing up on top of Stacy
“That was something else.” Says Stacy,
breathlessly, grabbing Stella’s ass and grinding against her forcefully, Stella
appreciates and reciprocates the mutuality generously, fondling Stacy and
kissing her, euphoric that she had managed to please Stacy in such a way
“You want me to do you?” asks Stacy
“You already did. Besides, I just want
to enjoy this part. Having your legs wrapped around my head was literally
heaven, knowing that I am making you happy too.” Says Stella
“Really?” asks Stacy
“It just feels so good to give back.
I’ve just been getting it, but I want to make you happy too. It’s a different
kind of good feeling, but I love it, it’s amazing.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy
lovingly before resting in the crook of her neck
“I don’t know happy, more like
exhilarated. I’m blown away, I was kind of scared but it just felt so damn
good.” Says Stacy
“It was exhilarating giving it to you,
feeling you really want me that way.” Says Stella, kissing Stacy’s neck
“God damn it, I love you Stella, making
me feel that way. I’m glad you didn’t take no for an answer.” Says Stacy,
groping Stella’s ass, ironing away some of the remaining pent up tension of
reluctant pleasure
“Me too.” Says Stella, playfully
sincere, looking Stacy in the eyes, heart-touched with serene joy, the payout
of her gambit of wild desperation, kissing her again knowing that her own fears
would keep her coming back for such a reliable source of comfort, Stacy more than
happy to find a mutual comfort, Stella eventually cuddles up to Stacy’s neck
and holds her tightly, feeling the fear that she managed to blind herself to,
unable to acknowledge that the uncertain future was real, only knowing the
feeling of it bubbling up from the depths of mental repression, she knew this
fear was real, and regardless of what it was, she knew the warmth of Stacy’s
body was the only thing capable of quelling such a bone chilling trepidation.
Stacy lies sleepy and cozy next to the only warm fire of her life, Stella
holding onto her sanity, afraid of that which goes bump in the night, but the
comfort of the animal she loved so dearly allowing her to ignore such demons
just enough to be comforted.
Stacy quickly falls asleep, breathing
deeply and slowly, blatantly exhausted, staring into the darkness blind-eyed.
Stella’s face buried in the crook of Stacy’s neck, also breathing deeply and
slowly, enjoying the euphorically calming scent of Stacy’s unwashed body, too
happy to sleep, but more than happy to let Stacy enjoy some winks. Each of the
girls willing to enjoy the situation indefinitely, happy in their own right,
and do so until the faint creep of sleepiness startles some responsibility in
Stella.
“Stacy.” She says, gently, to no
response “Stacy…” she says louder, rubbing her cheek against Stacy’s
Stacy mumbles something unintelligible
half startled and largely asleep
“Wake up, Stacy.” Says Stella,
continuing to nuzzle Stacy
“Go to sleep, Stella.” Mumbles Stacy
“You want to take a bath?” asks Stella
“No.” says Stacy dryly serious
“Well, it’s time to wash, ok?” asks
Stella
“I think we missed bathtime, it’s too
late. Time for sleep.” Says Stacy, wearing her filth like cozy fur
“It’s not that late.” Says Stella
“It’s definitely that late.” Says Stacy
“Get up, it won’t take long, then we
can go back to sleep.” Says Stella
“Normally I’d be more reluctant, but I
really want to sleep.” Says Stacy
“Good. I trust I don’t have to drag you
to the tub.” Says Stella
“You’ve misplaced your trust.” Says Stacy
“I’ll throw you out of the bed.” Says
Stella
“I’ll sleep on the floor.” Says Stacy
“No you won’t.” says Stella
“You’re right. Damn it. Let’s go. Quick
like.” Says Stacy, reluctant
“Good.” Says Stella getting up, pulling
Stacy’s legs off the bed
“You’re too responsible, you know that.
A little dirt never hurt anybody.” Says Stacy, sitting up, Stella goes to fetch
some clean clothes for herself, finding some panties and one of her countable
number nightgowns, all of them made of rayon, a staple in the heat of Bay City
“If it were up to you it would be a
lifetime of dirt.” Says Stella
“It rains sometimes.” Says Stacy
“It never rains.” Says Stella
“Once or twice it has.” Says Stacy
“That’s still 7 years of dirt.” Says
Stella
“Optimistically it’s only 5.” Says
Stacy, getting up to grab some nearly identical bed clothes
“I doubt losing 2 years of dirt would
be considered optimism to you.” Says Stella
“I’m pretty sure a layer of dirt will
keep you cool, according to swine.” Says Stacy
“That’s disgusting. Let’s go.” Says
Stella, walking across the hall into the bathroom
“Right-o. Let’s make it quick.” Says
Stacy, following her, Stella runs the water and sits on the toilet
“You could just piss in the tub, save
water you know.” jokes Stacy
“That’s so gross Stacy.” Says Stella
“I mean before you fill it up, you’re
going to wash anyways.” Says Stacy
“You do that?” asks Stella, disgusted
“I’m just being environmentally
friendly. It’s not gross anyways; all your other people particles wash around
when you get wet. Urine is sterile anyways.” Says Stacy
“Jesus.” Says Stella
“I’m sure plenty of people piss in the
showers at school, it’s common sense.” Says Stacy
“It’s really not.” Says Stella
“It’s the same thing as a bidet.” Says
Stacy
“You have to go?” asks Stella, cleaning
herself
“I was outside all afternoon, sweat my
liquids out.” Says Stacy
“Just don’t pee in the tub.” Says
Stella
“It’s not a public pool.” Jokes Stacy
“You’re like a little kid.” Says Stella
“People of all ages piss in the pool, if
you’re going to be swimming in other people’s piss you may as well contribute
some of your own.” Says Stacy
“Remind me never to go swimming again.”
Says Stella
“It’s chlorinated. I’m pretty sure
everyone has come to terms with that already.” Says Stacy
“I think everyone tries to not think
about that, but whatever.” Says Stella, filling the tub and getting in “Come.”
She says, patting her thighs, Stacy sits in her lap and tries to go back to
sleep, Stella holds her lovingly before eventually turning the water off and
starting to wash her with care
“You ever think about shaving your
legs?” asks Stella
“God forbid I become so self-conscious
I start to shave the vellus hair on my legs.” Says Stacy
“I think it’s a bit longer than that.”
Says Stella
“It’s white anyways, you can’t even see
it.” Says Stacy
“That’s true, I don’t shave mine either,
though I do kind of think about it sometimes. I did it once at a Carol’s house
for fun one time, and it basically never grew back, so I don’t tend to think
about it much. Shaved legs feel nice, you know.” Says Stella
“I would probably shave my armpits if I
had some hair, I’d hate to be grouped in with the hippies. Even just noticeable
leg hair, less of a beauty statement and more of a social one. That’s the last
thing I would want, to be presumed a hippy.” Says Stacy
“What happened to being environmentally
friendly?” Jokes Stella
“Only when it’s convenient. Hippies are
disgusting people. Hobo’s are dirty but at least have a decent personality,
hippies are dirty while spitting venomous conceit substantiated by their
indignation and uncivilized filth. I don’t take pride in being dirty, I only
enjoy the convenience.” Says Stacy
“Well you’ll be all clean pretty soon.”
Says Stella, taking pride in her work, finishing washing Stacy’s face and hair
before climbing over her and sitting in her lap, Stacy starts to wash her
ticket to dream land, careful enough pacing the pace to keep the lioness happy,
smelling the delight in the dream cook’s kitchen all the while, as it seems
later than it somehow actually is to the sleepy girl. The slow pace starts to
put Stacy to sleep but she manages to finish the task, nonchalantly picking
Stella up by her armpits, eyes fluttering
“Bed time.” Says Stacy, relieved that
her chores are done, stepping out of the tub and unstopping it
“Waste of warm water.” Frowns Stella,
also stepping out
“The bed is warm too.” Says Stacy,
grabbing a towel and wiping down Stella
“How kind.” Says Stella, entertained
“I’m afraid I’m going to black out or
something. I never quite woke up the first time. I’m slipping.” Says Stacy as
Stella starts to return the favor
“Don’t forget to brush your teeth.”
Says Stella
“Of course. Of course. It feels like a
time bomb in my mind causing it to implode. Jesus I’m tired.” Says Stacy
“You might need to drink some water, it
could be dehydration.” Says Stella
“Right-o.” says Stacy, grabbing a cup
from beside the sink, filling it and drinking before putting her night clothes
on along with Stella, who also fills the cup and has a drink
“It was hot today.” Says Stella
“It’s always hot.” Says Stacy, who
starts to brush her teeth
“That’s true.” Says Stella, following
Stacy’s eager example after she finishes
Stacy pats Stella’s ass with both hands
once she finishes “Oh goodness, my body aches and my brain is dying, let’s get
some rest.” Says Stacy
“That sounds nice.” Says Stella, who
walks out the door with Stacy in tow, entering their room, cutting the light
and slipping into her bed with Stacy
“Nothing like dry sheets. Got to love
the strictly business bed.” Says Stacy, cuddling Stella taking a hedonistic
pleasure in the sheer comfort that surrounds her
“It doesn’t have to be.” Says Stella,
kissing Stacy playfully
“Yes it does. This is the sleeping bed.
No funny business.” Says Stacy
“Suit yourself.” Says Stella, slowly
rubbing against Stacy’s hips
“Just keep it in the panties.” Says
Stacy, Stella sighs
“Cuddling isn’t bad either.” Says
Stella
“Sleepy time.” Says Stacy, merrily as
her mind prepares for such a reprieve
“I’m surprised you don’t want to talk.”
Says Stella
“I’ve talked enough today.” Says Stacy
“Ok, good night then.” Says Stella
“Thank you. Good night.” Says Stacy,
kissing Stella farewell, her mind quickly collapses into darkness; Stella
consciously enjoys being held for a while before the comfort soothes her to
sleep as well.
The nameless soldier of death’s army of
mime ghosts drives his invisible pick-up truck across the horizon, a middle
aged life-warm blind deaf legally profoundly mentally retarded man that has
known no life other than the complete paralysis of his entire body and known no
world other than the back of the truck driven by the mime ghost high to death
but still high on divine psychostimulants driving wide eyed for another
meaningless day, trillions of years after a spookster decided to shine some
scattered light upon the haunt of the ocean of mime ghosts. The man being
spoon-fed the invisible sustenance of haunted life by little mime ghost
children, his legal incapability the casket in which he is buried alive, for
his own immense natural logic and intuition cause him to claw ceaselessly at
his own existence, burning countless calories of haunted life solely by using
his mind to writhe in fear. The man does not know why he is driven ceaselessly
down the invisible backroads to no destination, solely moving because the
captain of the 13.8 billion year old early
1980s model pick-up truck knows no other life than to drive his captive,
and the only instinct of the ghastly children is to spoon-feed the man and rub
his belly, lonely ghosts they were, savoring the finite time they can
appreciate the life and death of such a man, knowing only the infinite length
of time the invisible guide wires have been strung through the minds and limbs
limiting their free will to the point they had none. Lowly beasts once
worshiped the retarded man before the proximity of their god bred contempt of
anything they could understand; now he is but another captive of the mimes just
like the wee beasts, who pay as little mind to the existence to the ghosts of
mimes as the bed-ridden man as neither can fathom such entertainers,
remorselessly bound by the guide wires of fate and circumstance, ensuring that
every invisible wall and invisible force in the universe is not only ushered
into existence by their hands, but entirely up to code
“Stacy, wake up.” Says Stella, as she
nuzzles Stacy warmly
“No.” groans Stacy
“Come on.” Says Stella
“Not reality. God, no.” says Stacy, in
despair, cracking her eyes open
“It’s not that bad.” Says Stella
“Reality feels like I’m drowning in
this thick heavy goo, and even breathing is like half breathing and half
drowning, the air is so thick. Not only that but it’s just so damn hard, dense,
stiff, creating pressure just by being so rigid. Not only drowning, but being
forcefully held underwater. Why can’t it just be like a dream, damn it?” Says
Stacy
“How are dreams all that different?”
asks Stella
“Everything is soft, even watching
twenty cars crash in front of you is like nothing is happening, completely
indifferent, no more surprised than if two pillows playfully run into each
other. The meaninglessness is so great, watching somebody get sucked under a
door and being crushed by the gap between the door and the threshold doesn’t
get a reaction, just taking it in like it’s some commonplace occurrence like a
leaf rustling by, even the guy doesn’t give a damn, he’s just like ‘whelp,
that’s it for me I suppose’, it’s like everything that exists is too tired to
give a damn, existentialism doesn’t even exist because nobody was ever curious
as to why anything exists, everything, myself included is that indifferent to
its own existence, just going through the motions cheeky as can be.” Says Stacy
“That’s kind of like reality, just
going through the motions.” Says Stella
“It’s not the same at all, reality
hurts, it’s got feely things, in a dream I’ll be riding a train to nowhere and
it crashes into a wall and crumples like a can and I just crawl out of some 3
inch gap in the metal unscathed and not even mildly surprised by anything. Only
if I’m about to wake up do I ever have something similar to self-awareness, and
I’m always just so damn confused, a terrible omen to be honest.” Says Stacy
“Just don’t get hurt, I don’t know what
to say. My dreams are always super realistic, but I guess I suffer from
self-consciousness, so that kind of eats me up, the social anxiety and stuff.
Even if you can’t feel pain your mind can still torture you.” Says Stella
“That’s a damn shame; dreams are a
wonderful kind of stupor, at least in my experience. Maybe I’m just too lazy to
think inside my dreams, since I don’t have to consciously make decisions. My
body just does the things instinctively.” Says Stacy
“I like being awake better, when I’m
dreaming I kind of lose my mindfulness, so anxiety and the like become way more
palpable when I’m not actively focused on averting it. It’s usually bad because
often enough in dreams I’m just going to school and end up having a worse day
than usual because somebody is giving me a hard time or I’m embarrassing myself
or getting bad grades.” Says Stella
“That’s terrible. I’m glad my dreams
are just random wandering around for the most part, sometimes they’ll be
cinematic, but a lot of the time it’s just the most sensible nonsense that one
wouldn’t question, school buildings transition into parking garages seamlessly
and nobody questions it when you attempt to make your way out of the parking
garage the same way you come in and the path leads you to a convenience store,
you interact with lunatics as if they’re the pinnacle of reasonable people. I’m
sure somebody might question it, but I suppose I’m not very inquisitive, it’s
more work after all, not quite my natural predisposition.” Says Stacy
“It’s funny how your brain is so lazy
it doesn’t even bother to try and make sense, since it knows you don’t give a
damn whether or not things make sense. I’m glad you’re awake though.” Says
Stella, getting out of bed and turning off the alarm clock that has yet to ring
“I don’t know how you wake up before
the alarm clock. I would be unconscious ‘til noon at least every day.” Says
Stacy
“It’s just circadian rhythm I think. I
don’t know; maybe I just sleep well so my body thinks I’ve had enough.” Says
Stella, getting dressed
“I sleep fine, it’s just the comfort
gets to me, like pleasure shackles keeping me in bed and tempting me with my
laziness.” Says Stacy
“Don’t let them get the better of you;
I’ll drag you out of bed.” Says Stella
“Fine. I’m already pretty awake
anyways, starting me off strong, talking like that. I don’t know why that works
so damn well.” Says Stacy, getting out of bed
“I think it’s a positive feedback loop,
you love hearing yourself talk, this excites you so you talk some more,
continuing indefinitely.” Says Stella, sitting down
“Very true. It’s not so much the sound
of my voice but the ideology that gets me going, I always agree with everything
I say, and the ideas are so damn brilliant it’s like instant inspiration to a
savorably high degree.” Says Stacy, getting dressed
“At least you enjoy it, I’d be sad if
you were forcing yourself to talk solely out of spite the entire time.” Says
Stella
“Even if I am being spiteful, which is
not always the case, it’s a savory spite, it’s so damn tasty to hear of
beautifully vindictive justice and crisp clean logic.” Says Stacy
“You really could sell cars.” Jokes
Stella
“I’m not lying; savory spite feels
good, plenty of people feel justified with filthy indignant malice, but savory
spite is so damn tasteful and well-seasoned with reason that the euphoria is
what I imagine some connoisseur of food would feel when he finds something
amazing after a long drought.” Says Stacy
“So you’re a connoisseur of spite?” asks
Stella
“I just have fine tastes, I don’t go
about critiquing every last kind of spite, I go to what I find the most
pleasurable every time, really hits the spot.” Says Stacy, sitting down next to
Stella and pulling her back to lay down on the bed, Stella doesn’t mind
“I’d be a little worried if I had a
thirst for spite that needed to be quenched.” Says Stella
“It can easily be bad, but when you’re
a well-reasoned and intelligent individual like me, you understand that your
spite can hardly even qualify as such, even though it is fueled by the same
loathing and disdain, it is actually helpful, so it’s not really hindering or
harming anything, it’s just a really aggressive and violent helpfulness. Kind
of makes me feel like a nice person.” Says Stacy
“I wouldn’t particularly like being
helped aggressively and violently.” Says Stella
“The taste of the help is irrelevant,
it’s about the nutrition. Help that tastes good and accomplishes nothing gets
you fat on help devoid of nutrition, you eat and you eat and do nothing but sit
there and make your life worse.” Says Stacy
“Whenever somebody offers to help me, I
make sure to eat as much of the help as I can.” Jokes Stella
“Food allegories are always great, the
reason the old fables fall short in their attempts to explain things is because
talking animals and cohesive plotlines don’t tend to exist, food on the other
hand is always ready to go, ripe and ready to exist any day of the god damn
week.” Says Stacy
“I think you just like food more than
talking animals.” Says Stella
“I’m a bit ashamed of bringing up that
topic, I don’t particularly like it, but I run my mouth without paying
attention, it’s only afterwards that I might be aware of what I have said.
That’s still pretty rare to be honest.” Says Stacy
“It’s terrible I have this huge fear of
talking dogs now.” Says Stella
“That’s just being reasonable. I’d run
the fuck away if I knew what was up. The bastard kind of smooths your mind
over, drowning your suspicion, like a dream, creepy bastard, even by Bay City
standards.” Says Stacy
“I stay away from that park, so I’m
hoping that’s all it takes.” Says Stella
“That’s a pretty good bet. I’ve not
seen him since, nor do I want to.” Says Stacy
“You don’t think he might want to help
you? Since he’s in the business of doing good deeds or whatever.” Says Stella
“He’s an embittered fuck; he just wants
to eat children. He even told us that outright. Saying he can’t do his job
anymore so he just stopped giving a fuck and wants to eat children. At least
he’s decent enough to make us deserve to be eaten in his eyes, I figure he
could have just put us to sleep and ate us right there, or even worse lured us
into an alley with hypnosis. Who knows what that bastard could have done.” Says
Stacy
“That’s terrible; spooky as fuck to be
honest. I wasn’t scared of dogs until you and your girlfriends forced me to
believe that story. Now I’m scared shitless.” Says Stella
“Just avoid the wolf looking dogs and
you’ll be fine, he said something about the wolf’s duty to keep man in check,
so I doubt there’s going to be a little yappy dog doing the same thing.” Says
Stacy
“All dogs came from wolves, you know.”
Says Stella
“Most of them are pretty far removed
from those genetics. I wouldn’t worry, I’ve seen plenty of dogs since and none
of them talked to me.” Says Stacy
“That’s good. I’m still avoiding them,
though. That’s the scariest part of all of this, that some crazy dog makes you
go kill people.” Says Stella
“He’s not crazy, thankfully, that would
be a real shit-show. As much as he’s an asshole I’m not all too opposed to aligning
myself with him, just because he’s a decent person, well, dog, you know. Feels
like I’m an upstanding citizen fighting off an army of demons, pretty
rewarding.” Says Stacy
“You actually like it?” asks Stella
“It frightens me when I’m idle, but
when I’m in the moment it feels good. You know how reality was breathing that
heavy sticky dense goo, well, when I’m doing the lords work, in the moment,
it’s like breathing clean pure air, really refreshing. I don’t know, maybe I’m
crazy.” Says Stacy
“You’re definitely crazy.” Says Stella,
subtly scared of Stacy at this point
“You know what he told me, the second
day of all of this, the bad one, he told me ‘you are becoming a wolf’, so that
might be it. He’s giving me his instincts and bloodlust or something, I don’t
know. That might be the last thing he told me, over a week ago. I think it
might have been because I asked a question. I learned my lesson, I’d rather not
know the answer if the alternative is hearing that sick motherfucker’s voice.”
Says Stacy
“You’ve not questioned anything since
last Tuesday?” asks Stella, in disbelief
“I’m not the inquisitive type. I
usually feel I know all the answers to everything, so that might be why I don’t
ask questions. Rhetorical questions, sure, but other than that, not really. If
I ever want to know something, I just think of the answer myself, if it’s
technical knowledge that can’t be amassed through intuition and logic then I
usually don’t care about the answer.” Says Stacy
“You are so damn bold. It’s remarkable.
You want some breakfast? We can’t lie here all day, you know.” Says Stella
“You know I’ve got to feed my demons.”
jokes Stacy
“Just the good ones, ok?” asks Stella,
getting up, Stacy in tow
“Good is my favorite word, it just means
whatever you want it to mean. If somebody disagrees with you, they’re bad, and
it’s a given that somebody in the world is going to agree with your sense of
good. This being said, of course the good ones will eat first.” Says Stacy
“For some reason I think you’d have a
hard time finding somebody who defines good in the same way you do.” Says
Stella, going out the door
“That’s the point where you start
indoctrinating people.” Jokes Stacy, following Stella
“Good luck with that.” Says Stella,
dryly, heading downstairs
The girls walk into the kitchen to find
Dale passed out; face down on the table with the plastic container that held
last night’s leftovers empty beside him. Stella walks over to him and rubs his
shoulder.
“Dad, wake up, are you ok?” she asks,
unsurpassed but concerned nonetheless
“Holy shit.” Mumbles Dale, sitting up
quickly rather surprised
“He’s alive!” jokes Stacy
“God damn, I slept like a rock.” Says
Dale, grabbing his half full old fashioned glass and downing the rest of his
drink gratefully “Oh, that’s good.” He says
“I’m glad you ate, that was about 3
helpings worth of food though, I hope you don’t feel sick or anything.” Says
Stella
“Maybe 3 little girl helpings, as I
remember quite poorly it was about one grown man helping.” Says Dale
“Fair enough.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure they weren’t
children’s portions, just normal ones, it’s impressive you managed to eat that
much.” Says Stella
“That’s a joke. I’ve seen you kids eat,
with your half sized plates and meager portions. Remind me to take you girls to
a restaurant to show you what a real portion looks like.” Says Dale
“I think if I’m full all night, it’s a
real portion.” Says Stella
“I’m interested in finding out what a
real portion looks like, to be honest. Piqued my interest to say the least.”
Says Stacy
“I’m sure you couldn’t eat it all,
since you’re kind of small, but it’s like a full-sized plate brimming with
food. It’s beautiful.” Says Dale
“I might shed a tear, that sounds so
beautiful.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think anyone can eat that
much.” Says Stella
“It’s hard, and god damn you want to
die afterwards, but it’s good, tasty good.” Says Dale
“That sounds awful. People really force
themselves to eat that much?” asks Stella
“It’s courtesy; to show that you
respect and appreciate the meal.” Says Dale
“That’s ridiculous. Torturing yourself
to be polite?” asks Stella
“Sounds like every other form of
politeness to me.” Jokes Stacy
Dale chuckles, “It’s way better than
normal politeness, trust me. So damn expensive though, even classless restaurants
will stab you in the wallet. Maybe just find some pictures if you’re curious,
get Stella to cook you up a full plate.” Says Dale
"I don’t know it sounds like
heaven.” Says Stacy
“Sounds like a waste of food.” Says
Stella
“You can put it in a little expanded
polystyrene container and carry it home. I guess a pretty big one in the case
of your girls, eating pretty for a day or two. Choice.” Says Dale
“I’m going to be day dreaming all day
now. It’s not even hunger at this point, it’s just awe.” Says Stacy
“I’m not going to cook you a ridiculous
amount of food, but I’ll make you breakfast. Would you settle for oatmeal?”
asks Stella
“Maybe some good oatmeal. Salt, pepper,
an egg, onions, garlic powder, some tomato sauce.” Says Stacy
“Only because we have those things.”
Says Stella
“Cheese?” asks Stacy
“I’ll check to see if the cheese fairy
magically stopped by to gift us some cheese.” Says Stella
“Fingers crossed.” Says Stacy
“I’ll let you girls eat, my back didn’t
like my belly’s decision to sleep at the table last night.” Says Dale
“That’s good, wouldn’t want anything to
get worse now.” Says Stella
“That’s the lord’s truth, even if you
can’t imagine how things could get worse, you better know damn well that they
can get much worse real fucking quick. As bad as things are, I’m doing
everything I can to make sure they don’t get worse.” Says Dale
“Blind drunk but still has foresight, a
champion if I’ve ever known one.” Jokes Stacy
“I’m not blind drunk yet, kid. Give me
a few minutes to catch up.” Jokes Dale
“Knock yourself out.” Jokes Stacy
“Not too much, please.” Says Stella,
cleaning up after Dale and starting to cook
“If I was someone who drank too much, I
would be dead, silly girl.” Jokes Dale
“We’re glad you don’t.” says Stacy,
getting herself some milk
“I’m glad I can do a little something
to make you happy every now and again. I’m proud of it myself too, after all
these years, it’s a little bit of a miracle, I figure maybe one time in my
blackouts I would have just been real hot and thirsty or something, but I
suppose the lord is looking out for me in some strange way.” Says Dale
“The lord works in mysterious ways.”
Says Stacy, Dale does the sign of the cross before kissing ‘al bacio’ in the
same unbroken gesture
“Amen.” Says Dale, sincerely “I’m still
stuffed, thanks for the grub, Stella, it’s about time I really sleep that meal
off good.” Says Dale, slowly getting up
“Rest up, ok. Maybe don’t eat so much
next time. 3 portions is a lot, you know.” Says Stella
“3 square meals a day, just what the doctor
ordered.” Says Dale
“I don’t know if it’s healthy to take
them all at the same time.” Says Stella
“I’m not going to sweat the details.”
Says Dale, limping proudly to the couch, laying down and drinking the comfort
“It’s terrible I just had this
premonition strike fear into my heart. A bit ridiculous, but still quite
palpable.” Says Stacy
“What was it?” asks Stella
“I had this little prophecy about some
impending silence, because I knew for damn sure you’d be content just cooking
in silence. I was just staring at the table; silence is like nails on a
chalkboard to me, shaking me good.” Says Stacy
“I find it hard to believe you put any
faith in a prophesy about you being quiet for once.” Says Stella
“It was weird, my mind was racing and I
just couldn’t find anything to say, spooked me good, like reality is sand
slipping through my fingers, and the sand was me talking. I don’t know; must be
half dreaming still.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure you would call that a
nightmare.” Says Stella
“Pretty close, but I’ve connived a
solution. I’ll just think of a word and start ranting about it, one with
quality vagueness, a flavor rainbow of possibilities of what the word could be
describing.” Says Stacy
“Not inspired to berate society this
early in the morning?” asks Sella
“Usually something triggers me on that
topic, some grain of sympathy or indignation, just pisses me right off. I’ve
got nothing in that furnace today, so I’m rubbing my hands together hoping for
magic or something.” says Stacy
“So you’re just going to pick a word
and rant about it?” asks Stella
“Yeah, I figure if I start on a broad
topic, I can maybe dig deep into the topic and uncover something, like swinging
a sledgehammer at a big rock, making smaller rocks, maybe find an arrowhead or
something.” says Stacy
“That’s pretty ambitious, but I’m sure
you have the capacity to talk about anything and everything.” Says Stella
“Real particular things, not so much,
if I take, like, oats, for example, I don’t know a damn thing about oats, I’m
not getting far with that, but I can pick something broad and have a go at it.
Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t, who knows.” Says Stacy
“Go for it, I’m game to hear some
random ranting as opposed to the caning of society.” Says Stella
“Ok. Ready? Flavor. Lather that brain
in some marinade because it’s a savory time talking about the intricacies of
flavor, and not the literal kind either, the real allegorical kind: the spice
of life. Describing a taste is impossible; you can only taste a taste. Flavor
is dripping on every damn thing in the world, sparse or soaking, it’s there,
even if it’s the flavor of industrial chemicals or garbage, it’s still got a
flavor. People should really be living more for the flavor of life; it’s always
about nutrition you know, being productive and whatnot. What’s the point in
living if your life consists of sustaining yourself on the parts of life that
are as flavorful as Poverty bars on a good day, and often times just
spray-paint flavored air?
People spend their lives either working
or voluntarily melting their brains with stupid idle nonsense like the
television. The worst flavor of all you know, it’s just showing you a flavor,
you’re pretending that you’re tasting that tasty taste because it’s showing you
the pictures, and you hear it, but it’s all an illusion. It’s only fulfilling
because you’ve got nothing to compare it to. When you spend your life watching
television and that seems to be the pinnacle of fulfillment because that’s the
most fulfilled you’ve ever been, you actually believe that illusory fulfillment
is the real deal, and you are satisfied with that. If I were running the guns
I’d be making damn sure that all the little children found something fulfilling
to do out of the fear of death, just so they wouldn’t be contented with
illusion and bullshit, actually make them feel the need to go out and do
something and accomplish something to be fulfilled, not just watch some
character be artificially fulfilled in some artificial scenario and feel so
damn contented due to one’s own laziness and indifference to actually existing
in one’s own right that the stupid beast finds merit in mindless laugh-tracks
because they’re occasionally chuckling like a drug addled idiot. That’s grim as
hell to realize that some people think the pinnacle of fulfillment, or even
just enough fulfillment to be contented consists of an occasional druggie
chuckle. It’s grim because they only reason they are satisfied with that is
because it’s the most satisfying thing they’ve found throughout their decades
of living on this damn planet. I don’t know if it’s laziness or what, but the
respect for television, watching other people live their lives, or even just
fake people live fake lives, instead of living your own, real grim.” Says Stacy
“Jesus you can rant. I don’t know, I
think people don’t want to live their own lives because their lives suck,
they’re boring or stupid or painful, so they find the amazing and entertaining
adventures to be a nice reprieve from the doldrums defining their entire lives.
Nobody wants to watch a show about petty unentertaining office labor; they want
to watch something far more exciting. It’s easily impossible to live that sort
of life, so being able to watch a show about an amazing adventure is probably
the only accessible way that a person can satisfy their own lust for adventure.
They can’t go out and have a real one for a cornucopia of reasons, so being
able to sit down for a dribble of time and enjoy a similar feeling while still
being able to step away if need be and take care of one’s own responsibilities
is popular because it’s a change of pace. For every adventurer in history there
were thousands and thousands of people working to death and that’s all those
people ever did. That’s life.” Says Stella
“I see your point. I’m just complaining
that it’s synthetic, and if people are willing to settle for synthetic aspects
of life, we may well make all of them synthetic.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure we’re getting closer to that
point every day.” Says Stella
“It’s a damn shame. Another problem
with television and any sort of plot driven media for that matter is that it’s
so damn plot dense. It’s like synthetic opiates compared to natural ones, the
synthetic ones are just thousands of times stronger than the natural ones so
people unquestioningly prefer the synthetics. People turn into plot junkies and
loathe their own existence because plot isn’t coursing through their veins
every second of the god damn day along with the second dagger in the kidney
that unlike in television they are forced to experience the boring parts of
their lives, instead of just cutting away to something interesting happening
elsewhere, living life in a blackout except for when interesting plot driven
events are occurring. This lack of plot in the life of a junkie makes them
start to fiend, and they’ll start fantasizing or reminiscing to induce the
euphoric recall of the damn plot. The plot is so damn potent in the media that
people don’t even think it exists anywhere else; they wouldn’t notice the plot
of real life because the high is so weak due to their tolerance from their
addiction to the junk. They always think that their lives are boring but they
don’t think to do something about it, they just figure it’s impossible to have
an interesting life so they just turn to television. Even if it’s not fiction,
the same holds true for the news for the most part. News is entirely irrelevant
to the common man, but people still live and die for that shit because it makes
them think there is some overarching plot that they are somehow a relevant
aspect of, foolishly enough. Giving people this plot high without having to
work for it is like conditioning children to become dope fiends living on the
street just because you happen to make good money selling heroin to the kids.
It’s ridiculous.” Says Stacy
“I tried to think of some counter
points, but I keep striking them down, every sit-com or reality show will still
have a plot, as petty or trivial as it may be, the characters are inevitably
part of a developing story. Even dad’s historical shows are plot driven; World
Wars tend to be pretty plot heavy compared to the paper pushing and wage
slaving of pacifistic peace time. I guess people just want to feel the high of
having plot in their life since there tends to be such a dearth. I mean you
read books at least.” Says Stella
“It’s true. Sitting around staring at
the celling having the plot void enjoy free punches all day is not all too
pleasant. Recently though I’ve had plenty of god damn plot; you don’t know what
you got till it’s gone, looking back the a la carte plot is pretty damn
convenient compared to having to ride the damn horse yourself. Not being able
to take it or leave it is soul crushing. I guess everybody is like that to some
degree, even if it is just drowning in idle misery and slaving, it’s still
passing the time at least, even if there is no character development or
noticeable conflict, I figure most people slave to avoid the conflict all
together. People don’t want the bad parts of the plot, so I can understand why
people would avoid it. I still feel the synthetic plot addicts are kind of
hollow people, just ranting and raving, echoing plots that are irrelevant from
their own lives.” Says Stacy
“A crusade against television seems
like the most foolish of all of your dastardly plans.” Jokes Stella
“I’m sure even if I succeeded in
prohibiting television and burning all the fantastical books people would just
go back to telling god damn ghost stories like the old days. Fiends, I tell
you.” Says Stacy
“We all have our vices, I’m sure
they’ll burn in hell for their gluttonous consumption of synthetic plot with
the rest of the sinners.” Jokes Stella, serving Stacy some food
“Damn this looks good.” Says Stacy
“It’s hot, so let it cool off.” Says
Stella
“Whoever invented the bowl was a fool, it
should be a large shallow rectangle, large surface area, rapid cooling, would
be ideal.” Says Stacy
“Your level of impatience is remarkable
sometimes.” Says Stella, sitting down with her own meal
“It’s not impatience if it’s innovation
and improvement via efficiently expediting things.” Says Stacy
“With the amount of time that would
save you throughout a lifetime you would still manage to accomplish nothing
more, you would just have more time to talk.” Says Stella
“That’s something, I’m sure in the
hands of a productive person, the soup tray would be a godsend; they would get
right back to sewing shoes or mining salt.” Says Stacy
“You’re shameless.” Says Stella
“Those are respectable jobs. Civilization
would be damn near impossible without shoes, and who doesn’t love salt? It’s a
shame that honest labor is the lowest form of labor, honest just means
victimizably naïve and stalwartly foolish in a world such as this one.” says
Stacy
“It’s easy to be honest and hard to be
a conniving manipulator, it’s supply and demand really. Of course some people
don’t know how to play within the rules and those people are labeled as
swindlers instead of business people, but it’s just a line in the sand.” Says
Stella
“Jesus. Talking about these things so
far and distant and irrelevant from us is making me this weird kind of
lightheaded. Talking is just so thin and empty and irrelevant, accomplishing
nothing. It feels like I’m just pawing at air like some hallucinating kitten. I
keep thinking about reality, my job or whatever, so damn real, I can feel it,
like this table.” Says Stacy, slapping the table heartily “Talking is just like
this airy feeling, even if we’re talking about real things, they just seem like
irrelevant fantasies to me, they don’t even register as reality in my senses.
It’s kind of scary, attempting to enjoy my staple pastime and having it leave
me feel so empty, like a ghost or
something, no sensation just air, confusing me like and ethereal cloud, almost
to the point of being like school. It used to feel so damn good, easily
amazing, because that was all I had, talking was the pinnacle of realism,
nothing ever felt more real because I never did anything real, maybe petty
things, but talking about the real world making me feel like a goddamn empress
looking down over her empire, combing through the long locks of society and
picking at the bugs, feeding them to those sick enough to eat them, attempting
to defend the salvageable value of the parasites. It still feels good to run my
mouth, don’t get me wrong, anxiolytic for sure, but it’s just kind of thin, I
need to talk louder and more aggressively or something, get real results,
crumble walls with my booming voice, I don’t know. Reality is just kind of
looking at me like a damn bear and I’m blowing cute little clouds out of my
mouth at it. Experiencing the warm-blood of reality so frequently is making me
realize how pointless it is. This feeling is kind of killing my ego, I don’t
know, I guess I have to get blind drunk on delusion or something, really
convince myself that my words are legitimate bricks in the windows of Babylon.
My head is kind of spinning, like fear but my body is melting, like the world
is melting, I flail my arms and it just flings my dripping body all over the
place, not accomplishing anything, this powerlessness. I miss the power of my
words and my dreams and my ideals, they used to feel so damn real, like god
coursing through my veins, but reality is looking at me, smirking, that sick
fuck.” Says
“I don’t know what to say to that. I
can understand where you’re coming from, your world was kind of shattered and
you’ve got to come to terms with that. It’s hard to embrace change, but I think
you can manage. Maybe less talking wouldn’t be a bad idea, if you do feel it is
pointless now for some odd miraculous reason. In terms of the fear and what
not, I’m pretty sure a doctor would just have you eat some bennies out of his
hand like you’re a goat at a petting zoo and stroke your hair for a while until
you feel better, but we don’t really have any bennies. Maybe one of dad’s
cigarettes would help, but I don’t want you to start smoking.” Says Stella
“It’s fine. It’s uncomfortable, but
it’s kind of like being hungry. When I know I can’t do a damn thing about it I
can just ignore it for the most part, I feel it but it doesn’t bother me, I
just see it as a fact of life and keep on trucking. This is just such a weird
feeling.
“Hopefully the food helps; I’m kind of
in the same boat as you to be honest. I get scared sometimes, and my mind will
just go black, ignore it very forcefully. When it’s thoroughly repressed I can
kind of forget about it, it’s like second nature to repress those sorts of
thoughts for me by now.” Says Stella
“I don’t know if it’s fear or what,
probably not. Like I’m just so small and powerless, knowing the feel of real
actions that effect reality kind of cracked my delusions a little bit. I don’t
know, just thinking about the spooksters that don’t give a damn and the
constant threat of society refraining from being antisocial for just long
enough to sour my damn milk. Trying to think of every haphazard sack of meatbag
slapstick that might get poured on me because I slipped up so slightly and now
I’ve got to somehow try to put everything back in the bag nonchalantly and
pretend that nothing happened. My mind was so accustomed to the reality of
thoughts and delusions as the only existent form, reality is just pushing down
on me, making my thoughts and words feel physically weak when they used to feel
so strong. I don’t know where my confidence went, I guess just yesterday with
the little girl, kind of reminding me of the fragility of life and randomness
of death. I’ll overcome it, I’m damn sure of it, devilish grin like I’ll enjoy
massacring every bit of reality just to rub those fluffy thoughts on my body
again. It’s kind of like a devil may care kind of feel, but it’s all I’ve got
right now.” Says Stacy
“Maybe drink some more milk or
something? That tends to help you feel good. I don’t know, you’re kind of loopy
right now.” Says Stella
“I’m sure it will help. Just drown
reality in delicious milk. Fear of reality may be real, but milk is so much
more real, I can taste it and feel it, so real, the pinnacle.” Says Stacy,
getting up and pouring herself some milk
“They’re both equally real, I do think
it’s good to be cautious of reality, maybe not afraid but definitely cautious.”
Says Stella
“It’s just so weird, that feeling.”
Says Stacy, sipping her milk, “Damn I love milk, but still, it feels like this
milk is real and all I have to fight off reality with, your cooking too I
guess. My thoughts are amounting to nothing, but at least this milk is real.”
Says Stacy
“That’s kind of true, food keeps you
alive and perceiving reality, gives you strength to do things. I thought you
would chug the whole glass instantly, it’s funny to see you sip it.” Says
Stella
“I’ve got to savor it. It’s sacred.
Solace. Keeping me sane like that, cleaning my mind, washing away the grit of
filth-ridden reality and replacing it with milky goodness.” Says Stacy
“I’m glad it helped.” Says Stella
“With my feels soothed, coming back to
the dead-bland part of reality consisting of school feels like it’s desiccating
my brain and soul, sucking the moisture out yet still ice cold; from swirling
chaotic death to dry brittle desert death, I guess I’m way more used to this
one though. Back to the whole meaty reality part, I just kind of wish I lived
in a simpler time, where my job since I was like 8 years old until I die would
be just milking cows or something, no need to know anything. Ignorance is bliss,
god damn it, why do we need to spoil that. I don’t know how you and Jenna do
it, my brain doesn’t want to know trivial things, it all seems like memorizing
some irrational number in base ten: pointless, meaningless, worthless.” Says
Stacy
“We’re just learning the building
blocks of a useful and functional education, we master the basics and then we
can learn the applications. Sure some of it is just for culture’s sake, but
those parts should at least be enjoyable or entertaining. Regardless, I’m sure
you could find a job doing menial labor, but life would be a bitch for sure,
making no money and struggling. You should really try to realize that even if
you don’t like to learn, the comfortable life eventually provided by an
education makes it more than worthwhile. You either suffer for the first 25
years of your life or you suffer for the last 75 years of your life. I hope
you’re not that shortsighted.” Says Stella
“I really shouldn’t complain, it’s not
like it’s actually painful. It would be great if the world learned the lessons
of Nazi Germany and realized that pumping your plebeians full of speed makes it
easy to turn even a broken nation into an industrial superpower capable of
fighting a war on two fronts and possibly even winning it, if it weren’t for the
consequent delirium. Just strike a healthy balance with some downers and I’d be
high on learning, so damn focused, enjoying it, feeling great, alert,
attentive, and the downers could even help me avoid increasingly reckless ranting
about high-ho despotism.” Says Stacy
“I think the crisis with
methamphetamine right now kind of proves that the opposite is true.” Says
Stella
“It’s only a crisis because we make it
one, when everyone in Germany was high on speed it wasn’t a crisis, it was a
god damn golden age. If the people weren’t persecuted and meth was administered
responsibly instead of reduced to something only criminals would do, people
could see the value in such a drug. American’s are lazy as hell; if everybody
was speeding responsibly I’m sure you would see a hell of a lot less
underachievement in all walks of life. If reefer addicts can legalize something
that makes them stoned and worthless all god damn day just because it makes
some cancer patients feel better, there’s no argument against the ‘Free the Speed’
movement since it can treat narcolepsy, ADHD, and even obesity.” Says Stacy
“Except that I’m pretty sure when
everybody is sitting at work picking methbugs out of their skin because they
haven’t slept in a week that sort of thing ends up being a pretty good argument
against that.” Says Stella
“The downers solve that problem, it’s
yin and yang.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what
the Taoists were talking about.” says Stella, dryly
“It’s a universal concept.” Says Stacy
“Anyways, I’m sure if you start
speaking at the ‘Free the Speed’ rallies you’ll find plenty of people desperate
enough to fight blindly to the death against the government.” Says Stella
“It’s not a bad place to search for
sympathizers.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure plenty of them even share
some of your 500% right-wing ideology, seeing how they tend to be on the fringe
in regards to that stuff.” Says Stella
“I can’t rely on them though, they tend
to be white supremacists, and the with the majority of the country high on
self-induced white-shame that’s not a route to success, you’ve got to appeal to
the disenfranchised people, when you have the support of the poor and
minorities, you have the support of the liberal whites since they tend to hate
the traditional western values more than anyone else, even black nationalists
and Islamic extremists have more common values with conservative Christians
than liberals. The conservative groups tend to hate each other because they’re
all too conservative to be tolerant of their few differences, and this hurts
their success that would otherwise be insurmountable. If the Fiscal
Conservatives, Christians of all colors, Muslims, Jews, and traditional Asians
banded together, we would have a very strict moralistic society since they
could always agree on their common beliefs, but since the racists tend to scare
away the decent people of color, the communists and take advantage of the
division to tempt the poor and ignorant away from their moral fiber with the delusional
Robin Hood cult of free things and utopia.” Says Stacy
“I think it would be noble if you tried
to remove some of the racism that causes tension between the conservative party
and people who happen to be conservative.” Says Stella
“It’s probably impossible since a
firmly held traditional belief of all conservative cultures is fear of
outsiders, so they wouldn’t trust the teamwork initiative. It might be
possible, but plenty of people only vote conservative out of racism and
xenophobia, so you might lose all of those votes if the party was all about
minority inclusion.” Says Stacy
“It’s a catch-22 I guess. The
conservatives still seem to do pretty well, I’m sure since the majority of the
party consists of decent Christians who would tolerate like-minded
conservatives, you would be better off replacing the votes of the racists with
god-fearing minorities, since their numbers are increasing rapidly while the
white’s numbers fall in contrast. It’s not like you would lose their votes to
the liberals anyways.” Says Stella
“They wouldn’t see the colored people
as like-minded conservatives, regardless of however conservative their values
are, plenty of people only see them as outsiders and they perceive all people
who aren’t like them to be a threat. It’s instinct to fear things that are different
from yourself, it would be hard to overpower that, especially since it’s been
ingrained so damn thoroughly by the culture of plenty of poor white places.”
Says Stacy
“So you’re going to appeal to
liberals?” asks Stella
“The liberals are the ones who tend to
riot in the street and throw Molotov cocktails because they think it helps
induce a utopia. It’s probably my best bet.” Says Stacy
“That’s a small minority of them.” Says
Stella
“The majority of them sympathize with
the rioters though, just because they’re not setting buildings on fire doesn’t
mean they’re not equally upset that we don’t live in a god damn utopia. They’ve
just got something to lose, that’s why they’re not out there. I’ve just got to convince
them that the something they have is actually nothing, or that the rich and
powerful are stealing from them, and they’ll gladly riot.” Says Stacy
“That’s probably a lot harder than you think;
most of them just want decent treatment for everybody and reasonable things
like that.” Says Stella
“Then they’ll be right pissed when they
hear somebody’s not getting decent treatment, they’ll be throwing bricks if
they hear somebody wasn’t respected by the damn authorities. It’s not hard to
stoke that indignation.” Says Stacy
“I’ll let you have fun with that, I
might sympathize with people, but I’m not going to start throwing bricks any
time soon. I can accept that it’s naturally a cruel world, unlike most people
who think that mankind purposely creates every problem out of his own volition
in order to spite them. I understand how hard it is to solve problems, and
don’t expect miracles, I don’t expect a damn thing to be honest, I’m pretty satisfied
as long as the country’s not on fire and there’s food to eat.” Says Stella
“So you’re a conservative.” Jokes Stacy
“I think I’m pretty liberal, I mean I
want to see people like dad being taken care of, not to mention us, Stacy.”
Says Stella
“If you were a liberal you would be
pretty upset that the country is not on fire and you’re dream would be to
institute communism to ensure that there is no food to eat.” Says Stacy
“Maybe some kind of radical liberal, I
guess I’m a moderate or something, a centralist, I don’t know. I don’t care
about politics.” Says Stella
“That’s good. Politics is futile, at
least in its current form. Caring about politics is like thinking that shouting
at a deaf-blind mentally retarded child will make him a functional member of
society.” Says Stacy
“The government is not that incapable.”
Says Stella
“It is when you think about how it
could wield the power of god almighty but chooses to bicker with their thumbs
up their asses and accomplish next to nothing over the course of a year. It’s a
damn shame that the nature of politics in this country consists of one party
being elected, that party failing and losing support, then the other party gets
elected, fails to do anything and loses support, so instead of having a
functional power structure the parties just spend their time reversing whatever
pittance the other party had gotten done, or otherwise being deadlocked because
the idiots who designed the government decided that having a system of
governance that could exist in a state of stagnation for two or more years is a
reasonable idea. If it was just a simple damn majority at least it would almost
be a given that the party in power could at least do something without the
minority party just naysaying the entire time and causing everybody in politics
to get paid to accomplish nothing but bicker and look like incompetent idiots.
Of course that’s a pipe dream because the independents would get elected on the
platform of always voting against the any bill that might pass, regardless of
what it is for whatever godforsaken reason they can pull out of the barrel of
bullshit.” Says Stacy
“I think the protection for the
minority party is good, otherwise they would just be irrelevant and that half
of the country would feel very upset that they have so many constituents but
zero power.” Says Stella
“When it prevents things from
happening, it’s choosing to respect a minority party instead of having a
functional government which is ridiculous. I don’t give a damn what bill the
government is passing as long as they can actually function unhindered. I like
it when things run smoothly, and the political system of the United States is
the antithesis of that.” Says Stacy
“Regardless, you still need to find
some healthier interests. Politics is not good for anything, at least in your
case.” Says Stella
“Unless your only interests are work
and piety, interests are nothing but vice. Since pride is my vice, politics is
my interest. I’d rather that than
slothful entertainment, wrathful sport, gluttony, gambling, vain envy, or
lustful socialization.” Says Stacy
“I still think you could try to
remember that wholesome things exist, you act like life is nothing but vice and
treachery, there are plenty of good, nice things that you could be interested
in. Most people tend to focus on those and try to ignore the bad parts for the
most part, I think it creates a healthier and happier person than one who is so
consumed by contemplating the vices and shortcomings of mankind all day.” Says
Stella
“Wholesomeness is poison; it literally
has the same effect as huffing paint. It induces a childlike stupor and foolish
high that conditions people to seek these cute meaningless smiles and ignore
the world at large. It is intoxicating to the point where it cripples the mind
and causes it to disregard reality and replace it with soft fuzzy images and
feelings. Very few parts of reality are soft and fuzzy, and if they are it is
largely only by human intervention, wholesomeness is unnatural; nature is raw,
gritty, violent, heartless, cold, and remorseless. Just because man can mass
produce emotional analgesics that dull the sharp knife of reality gouging out
one’s organs doesn’t mean that the damn knife should be ignored. That’s as
stupid as saying that your house isn’t on fire when it clearly is because you
closed your eyes and can’t see the damn fire.” Says Stacy
“You could still find a healthier
hobby, try to find something you actually enjoy instead of just enjoying the
ego high of condemning anything and everything that exists and pretending like
that makes you better than whatever you are condemning.” Says Stella
“It’s an enjoyable high, and I don’t
think I’m better at all, I’m just wiser. I’m not offering good alternatives;
I’m offering more efficient and productive alternatives. I’m sickened by the
inefficacy more than the immorality, watching things get half-assed by society
because they’re pussyfooting around like idiots. It’s a shame that their hands
are forced in the matter because everybody knows that if somebody actually does
something, everybody will be far more upset with them than if they do nothing.
In a sense, I figure by doing nothing I’m saving face for the most part. Taking
about raising Cain but doing nothing angers nobody because nobody listens,
while actually doing it will likely kill you. You don’t have any hobbies
either, you just go to school.” Says Stacy
“I cook, I run errands, I look after
you, I’ve got plenty of good wholesome things that I do, I don’t have much time
for hobbies, but I figure student council counts for something. You just ramble
on about godforsaken things like some blind delirious maniac. I think if you
put that energy into something productive or enjoyable you could find a more
innocent kind of happiness rather than simply fantasizing about sinking your
fangs into society and drinking its blood.” Says Stella
“I don’t know; I just like it I guess.
It’s free, always accessible, makes me feel good about myself, real damn good
to be honest, and it’s no sweat off my back to have at it for hours on end and
it never loses its appeal. I just like to think of things I guess, and when I
think of them it feels great because I thought of them and I’m proud of myself,
like I did something great just by thinking. It’s easy smiles, maybe not
wholesome smiles, but I’ll take what I can get, so long as it’s easy of course.”
Says Stacy
“See, if it feels that good to think of
something yourself, just think of how good it would feel to actually do something yourself or make something
yourself. You clearly like to create things, even if it’s just thought at this
point, I think you could put your creativity and energy to work in a better way
and do some great things.” Says Stella
“I’m at a loss as to what I would even
start to do in that department, I don’t like computers and the only other
producing machine we have is a sewing machine, and seeing how I don’t know a
damn thing about either of them I think it would be a disaster or at least
futile.” Says Stacy
“You could get a book from the library,
I don’t know. It doesn’t have to be around the house, you could do something in
the community.” Says Stella
“I do that Animal Club thing. See? I’ve
got very wholesome hobbies.” Says Stacy
“Once a week for a few hours is good,
but you’ve got so much excess energy, you know, I think it’s a waste to see it
all spent on ranting all day.” Says Stella
“It’s not entirely wasteful,
politicians make good money ranting all day, though it’s a shame they’ve got to
cook by the book and play the broken records of society’s self-adoration of its
own idiocy.” Says Stacy
“You just said that you even know
you’re wasting your own time with it, since you don’t want to go into
politics.” Says Stella
“I never said that, I just don’t want
to go into standard politics. Regardless, I hang out with friends; I figure
that’s what most girls our age do.” Says Stacy
“The successful ones also spend time
enriching their lives with quality and dedicate themselves to something.” says
Stella
“Quality is subjective, and just
because you dedicate yourself to something doesn’t mean it’s worthwhile, I’m
glad I’m not focused on art or music or sports, those things all become
worthless pretty quick once you get out of college. Seeing how popular those
three things and even more worthless interests like sheeple-politics are, I
figure I’m doing well for myself, sure I’m behind the studious and probably the
crafts-folk, but the middle of the pack isn’t a bad place to be. I may be
wasting my time, but I’m not wasting my money, my mind, or putting my bodily
health in avoidable jeopardy. I like my life; I figure I shouldn’t try to
change just to sparkle in the eyes of some judgmental pricks. I’m happy being
me, and I’m sure I wouldn’t be happy trying to live up to some foolish standard
of greatness. I know what greatness is, and it for damn sure isn’t middle
management or even the Nobel Peace Prize.” Says Stacy
“I think the Nobel Peace Prize is a
pretty prolific achievement.” Says Stella
“It just means that not only were you
some pouting queer with a stick up your ass, but you were pouting the loudest
and you had the stick the furthest up your ass. That’s not a prize I would be
proud of in the slightest. Empires are great, power is great, pouting not so
much.” Says Stacy
“I think fighting relentlessly for
peace among people is very noble, world peace would be greater than any empire.
They’re not pouting anyways; they’re activists who are fighting for change.”
Says Stella
“By pouting. Fighting is done with
guns, fists, knifes, et cetera. Pouting is running your mouth and expecting
people to care. Don’t disrespect the good people willing to actually fight for
something by comparing them to people who bitch all day, regardless of how loud
they might bitch. If I was calling the shots, any time somebody was ‘fighting’
for something by running their damn mouth I would break their fucking jaw with
the buttstock of a rifle and tell them to fight me. I would probably just shoot
them, but if they were true pacifists I would let them suffer even more for the
inanity in thinking that shouting changes a damn thing. I’m living proof that
it doesn’t. The world would be a much different place if that actually
accomplished anything. If people actually and naturally listened to each other
out of some sick sympathy and worked together unquestioningly instinctively,
the world would have been conquered by Peace Corps, not armies.
Humans are solitary violent creatures that
fend for themselves in small groups; trying to create some sick idealist world
peace bullshit is attempting to gut humans of the instincts that kept them
alive for a few million godforsaken years. If cooperation on a large scale
actually worked it would have happened in nature, the reason it doesn’t is
because when the large group fails, the entire thing falls apart and the large
group dies, where the same number of people in smaller groups would survive
because the failures would be isolated to a few of the small groups which would
fail and die while the others keep the fuck on trucking. World peace is like
telling people to eat wood pulp; it would easily kill more people than world
war. War between factions is natural, survival of the fittest, competing for
resources and preventing physical harm to one’s self, and thus it is sacred;
peace is unnatural and a disgusting effigy of humanity itself, even relative
world peace has already begun to warp humans from a delicately refined rather
natural beast that had retained much of the capabilities that allowed it to
survive in the wild into some wretched cancer that survives not because it
deserves to, but simply because it can. It’s a damn shame they send the fit and
healthy to war, the first draftees should be those with feeble genetics, strap
them with bombs or even just riddle them with disease and salute them as they
jump out of planes into densely populated urban areas to blight the fools that
seek conflict with a capable military mind. Take care not to invest heavily in
them, since the yield would be poor, but the cost would actually be a negative
cost so long as you are condemning those unworthy of life to a glorious death.”
Says Stacy
“Wow. That’s sick, even adding being a
war-hawk to every other terrible aspect of leadership that you tend to embrace
for some reason.” Says Stella
“It’s for the good of the whole, but
I’m not a war-hawk anyways, quite the contrary. I’ll defend myself if need be,
but I’ve got to make sure I have enough bullets for the infidels and loyal men
to shoot them. Police states don’t police themselves, and if I’m holding the
dandy top gun we happen to live in, I can’t use the fear of massacre from an
invasion to strike the fear into the hearts of the plebeians that is needed to
maintain order. That’s one of the few disadvantages to living on a relatively
unassailable continent; it’s a lot harder to strike the good and proper
war-fear into the hearts of man. The war-fear is ever so dear, keeps the man
working night in day for fear of imminent death.” Says Stacy
“It’s amazing that we went to Catholic
school for our entire childhood and there’s not an ounce of goodness or
godliness in you at all. You need Jesus.”
“I am Christ. I bring to the world the
holy and divine insight of the creator, whichever damn spookster it happens to
be. I raise mankind from his lowly wretched misery for having forsaken god in
the name of disdain for natural law and contemporary anti-religion, after so
many sick years of mental corruption instilled by the machines and their occult
prophets who were enlightened by the facilitation of vice, treachery, idiocy,
foolishness, ignorance, and faux goodness, the ghost has decided it is high
time to send a prophet to remind them of the will of god and the laws of the
natural world. This is the rapture, faith in me allows mankind to ascend to the
highest of heavens and faithlessness condemns him and every generation of his
kin that follows him to writhe in a miserable living hell before ultimately
being damned to whichever of the many deliciously tasteful layers of the
countless true hells his own misdeeds and folly warrants. I am the truth, the
light, I shine in the darkness against the sinners and the demons, I do not
falter, I heed the word of god and show no reverence to the men who foolishly
attempt to hold their mortality and ignorance higher than the wisdom of the almighty.
You are one of my few disciples, and should the time come that I die a martyr,
you shall feel god calling you to spread his word in your gospel. I am no
beast, nor am I human. I am only a puppet; I am but the will of god.” Says
Stacy
“Jesus Christ, Stacy. It’s too early
for that. For me to be your disciple, I would have to have faith in your
so-called prophecies and divinity or whatever. I don’t have faith in much of
anything at the moment, even with your… gift; I’m not drawing any correlation
between that and god. Don’t expect a gospel any time soon.” Says Stella
“I think I’ve got to die a martyr
first, anyways. Don’t worry about it.” Says Stacy
“Don’t go out and die because of this
sick delusion. Jesus Christ, you’re crazy.” Says Stella
“Jesus never sought death; he simply
lived as the living testament of gods will before the people inevitably killed
him. I figure that’s a respectable strategy.” Says Stacy
“Try to focus on the living part, at
least.” Says Stella
“Of course, there can be no gospel if
there are no stories of holy magic. I may have some prophecy here and there,
but the proof is in the pudding.” Says Stacy
“It would largely be a horror story at
this point, but I guess it might strike the fear of god into somebody. This
situation makes so little god damn sense that faith in god is the only way to
explain it for the most part.” Says Stella
“Keep the faith.” Says Stacy
“I’d have to refrain from being incredulous to the whole affair in
order for it to instill faith in me, and that point in my life has yet to come,
and it damn well may never come. It’s time to get ready for school though.”
Says Stella, getting up and starting to clean the kitchen
“That’s for the best. I like to be me,
not some damn servant of a sick spookster or whatever the fuck I am when I’m
slaving in the salt mines of justice.” Says Stacy
“I like that too, of the two Stacy’s
the normal one is by far my favorite. I don’t know about normal, but the
standard at least.” Says Stella
“There’s only one Stacy, the other one
isn’t really me at all.” Says Stacy
“Well, it’s some demon or something
that takes over your body, I don’t know. I just know it scares the hell out of
me. The standard Stacy just reminds me of home.” Says Stella
“I’m just glad that demon is strictly
business so everyone in my life gets to enjoy little old me for the vast
majority of the time. So long as I mine enough salt I get plenty of personal
time.” Says Stacy
“Just drop it, let’s get ready for
school, I don’t want to hear any more of that. It’s so much worse than even
your normal ranting.” Says Stella
“Agreed. I’m much fonder of the normal
ranting too.” Jokes Stacy, getting up
“At this point I’m somewhat fond of it,
at least when compared to the hell the other stuff has put me through.” Says
Stella, heading upstairs, Dale dying happily, unconscious again
“Relativity is a beautiful thing.” Says
Stacy, following Stella
“If it can make me fond of your insane
ranting I suppose it is.” Says Stella, headed to the bathroom to brush her
teeth
“One down, a few billion to go.” jokes
Stacy
“You’re something else.” Says Stella,
starting to brush her teeth
“All I’ve got to do is put everyone
else through hell and it should be a cake walk.” Jokes Stacy, also starting to
brush her teeth
“For some reason I think you’re capable
of that.” Says Stella, after spitting and rising her mouth out, eventually
breaking the healthy silence
“Dare to dream, so they say.” Says
Stacy, after doing the same, following Stella into their room
Stella notices a wire clothes-hanger on
the floor and picks it up. “You know what seeing this clothes-hanger reminds me
of?” asks Stella
“My untidiness?” asks Stacy, sitting
down on her bed and laying on it
“That, but more so you talking.” Says
Stella, putting the hangar up and going to sit on her own bed
“Because it could prevent the nice
allegorical clothes of society from becoming wrinkled, dirtied, and stepped
on?” asks Stacy
“No. Because listening to you talk
about your ideals for long enough slowly causes this desire to cut a hangar
into a long wire and beat you mercilessly in a corner with it until you abandon
your ideals, then give you some opiates every time you have a nice, normal,
humanistic sentiment, even just pleading for sympathy, to condition some sort
of common sense into you.” Says Stella
Stacy chuckles “If more humanists were
willing to resort to those sorts of actions I wouldn’t scorn them so
viciously.” She jokes
“Humanism is an ideal, but of course
inhuman things can be handled a bit more roughly. We’re not pretending the
television has feelings when we smack it trying to make it work correctly.”
Says Stella
“You’re a barbaric fundamentalist
realist extremist if you do something like that. It’s inhumanely politically
correct to spew such racism towards televisions and write-off their feelings as
if they were sub-human. You would easily be put in prison for something like
that nowadays, if you weren’t lynched or assassinated before you even got that
far.” Jokes Stacy
“I don’t know if facetious humanism is
really any better than anti-humanism.” Says Stella
“It’s one in the same, I’m either
attempting to destroy modern humanity by gouging out the massive cancer that
comprises 98% of society or I’m just trying to help the cancer evolve, new
technology makes old technology obsolete by vastly increasing the capacity or
efficiency or the mechanism, there’s no shame in seeking to apply Moore’s Law
to political correctness, every so many years we increase our level of
tolerance until it is illegal to segregate known carcinogens from baby-food because
that’s bigoted, and it’s felony assault and a hate crime if you’re not enjoying
some skinship with dimethyl mercury every now and again because dimethyl
mercury’s feelings get so hurt when people don’t want to play with it. I’m all
about tolerance and kindness, so long as people practice what they preach,
seeing how it already kills the idiots who are zealous proponents of such
poison.” Says Stacy
“Nobody is taking it that far, you’re
such a cynic.” Says Stella
“I’m sure one day I’ll be getting a mercury
transfusion instead of blood because the god-fearing American citizens that
happen to be children of the hardworking bleach factory were upset that the
healthcare industry didn’t respect their blood-type identity, so I’m getting
mercury instead of what godforsaken blood type I have because the bleach
factory’s lawyer had a spirit-bond with the mercury children and could hear
them tell him telepathically which human blood type they identified as and
legally made this known as their legal guardian because the children were
handicapped and unable to communicate in any other way. This is what liberals want;
this is the future of the legal system.” Says Stacy
“That’s not what liberals want at all.”
Says Stella
“Then they’re clearly not liberals,
they’re sick fascists who want to kill the Jews and every other minority, oppress
women and enslave the Negros. If they’re going to disrespect a spirit-bond,
mentally retarded children of hardworking parents, and the legally binding status of the blood type that the child
identifies with, they are murdering the psychological wellbeing of children
with paramilitary hate-speech at that point.” Says Stacy
“Bleach factories and mercury waste are
not people, Stacy.” Says Stella
“You realize trying to argue that point
is the exact same as arguing the Negros aren’t people, right? By case law,
unless we regress to the time when Negros are legally farm animals, anything
that has its personhood contested in court will be granted the legal status of
humans.” Says Stacy
“There have to be grounds for the
argument, black people share the same physiology as all other people, bleach
factories have nothing in common with people.” Says Stella
“Bleach factory people, Stella, please
don’t be racist. I know damn well the bleach factory will have a better lawyer
than the Negros of the 19th century, and that’s for damn certain.
The case in point is a briefcase full of money, the second case in point is a
briefcase full of cocaine, and thirdly, the cake in point has a beautiful
prostitute ready to pop out of it and convince the judiciary that her
step-siblings are clearly people even if they happen to be made out of 200
pounds of mercury.” Says Stacy
“You’re insane, and racist, but
step-siblings, what?” asks Stella
“The bleach factory has a lot of
children, what can I say, he’s a lover, not a fighter. I’m not going to
disrespect the man by arguing the Mendelian genetics in the case of his
daughter, but when one of your good friends leaves a baby at your foot and you
know damn well that he can’t feed his baby because you don’t pay him enough to
feed his baby, you requisition the baby and see to it that it becomes a fine
and upstanding member of society out of respect for your dear friend.” Says
Stacy
“I think you’re pretty conservative
calling a factory a person. That’s pretty hard right wing politics, liberals
want the humans to have more rights and conservatives want the factories and
businesses to have more rights. If you’re going to pretend at least get the
basics right.” Says Stella
“Looks like I’m going to have to strike
all of the human rights from the lawbooks due to case law, since one person, a
disenfranchised bleach factory person, happened to have his own human rights
disregarded, so it looks like nobody else has human rights anymore according to
case law. What a shame, I hear people really liked those.” Says Stacy
Stella sighs “Sadly plenty of liberals
would probably hop on board with that. I can already hear them saying, ‘first
they came for the bleach factory people’s rights’” she says
“You know that’s how it works, that’s
how it always works. I’m just hoping we can give bleach factories the old style
vote where they can get 2/3 of a vote for every 150 pounds of pollution they
make, hell, even a whole vote if we can get more rights for the mercury
children. Bleach factories actually understand how the world works, at least
enough to make bleach, plenty of people can’t make a god damn grilled cheese
sandwich, but they still get to vote.” Says Stacy
“I doubt you can make a grilled cheese
sandwich, Stacy.” Says Stella, dryly
“I can’t vote either, so it’s a moot
fucking point. The point is, I’m in favor of letting the people who pay the
taxes decide how their own damn money is being spent, seeing how it’s being
rustled out of their damn pockets incessantly. Votey, votey, one dollar. One
dollar of taxes paid is a vote, net taxes of course, so if you’ve put in 100
grand in taxes over your life and you’ve drank up a couple million in tax payer
dollars you’re shit out of luck, go die somewhere the fuck else because that’s
not how anything works, give everybody who can do 1.9 million dollars in damage
to society a vote, that’s a fucking joke, but hey, so is this shit-show, isn’t
it?” says Stacy
“I’m not an economist, so I don’t know
how that really works, but it’s not like we should just let people die on the
streets if they don’t have money.” Says Stella
“Of course not, conscription is a
wonderful thing. Everybody does a short stint in the gravedigger reserve and
they can get out once they’ve dug themselves a nice little spot in one of the
many mass-graves for debtors and the like. Of course it’s not a personal spot,
but if everybody has dug one, then there’s always a spot for the next sorry son
of a bitch who deserves to rot in the dirt. Of course the brave enlisted men of
the Armed Gravekeepers will dig the ones for the children, salute the traitors
with a one gun salute aimed at the back of their heads, and throw lime in place
of flowers.” Says Stacy
“Jesus Christ, Stacy. Common sense,
please. That is ridiculous, that appeals to literally nobody, unless somehow
that appeals to you in some sick way.” Says Stella
“It’s kind of a spiritual thing, kind
of like making your bed for your whole life, you know. But anyways, yes, common
sense, of course I would just have the Armed Gravekeepers use an excavator, it
would be very inefficient otherwise, but you could always go volunteer if you
wanted some sort of spiritual fulfillment.” Says Stacy
“Who the hell thinks digging mass
graves is spiritual fulfillment?” asks Stella
“Spiritual fulfillment, like holy water
ridding the body of demons and whatnot, and that’s what mass graves are for,
but with bullets for societies sake. It’s the evolution of spiritual fulfillment.
Don’t say it’s anti-Semitic either, even the old Abrahamic spookster says to
exterminate the Canaanites, or basically any enemy of the lord, Deuteronomy 20.”
Says Stacy
“That’s completely insane; you’re even
trying to justify this with the bible.” Says Stella
“Spirituality by definition is
completely insane, it’s only regarded as sane because it’s commonplace. If the
spiritual significance of mass graves were as commonplace as Abrahamic faith it
wouldn’t be seen as inane at all. Seeing how the basis of your argument against
mine is the alleged pertinence of the emotional mob mentality of common-folk
rather than any mathematical or rational one, it’s hard to give it any merit.
If somebody’s feelings ever influenced science I would just be running head
first into trains all day making them explode while being immortal because my
feelings were so much more valid than reality.” Says Stacy
“That’s ironically comical, but still.
I don’t know what to do with you, I know I can’t really do anything, but for
some reason I keep trying to do something, I just feel like it’s my
responsibility to teach you empathy or something.” says Stella
“I do all of this out of empathy. I
feel very bad for watching people write and suffer so much, so I seek to
relieve them of such misery. I truly am sensitive to people’s feelings, you
know? I even share your humanistic empathy in wanting to beat people
mercilessly in a corner with a clothes-hangar until they are thoroughly
committed to common sense and have abandoned their attachment to humanist
emotion.” says Stacy
“That part wasn’t exactly humanistic,
but regardless. You’re something else. It’s frustrating that I’m awake enough
to actually listen to what you say and attempt to reason with you. It’d be
quaint if I was just sandy-eyed and mumbling listening to the pangs of
sleepiness and indifferent to whatever nonsense you were ranting about, but
listening to you I’m just shaking my head the entire time, foolish enough to
think that arguing with you will help you see the light, it’s a sick optimism,
if it’s even that. I wouldn’t call it that, it’s some faulty common sense where
I know damn near any other living breathing human being would see the light
when I explain these things so I just write it off and figure that you will to,
I just presume this foolishly and off-handedly regardless of my 100% failure
rate.“ says Stella
“I wouldn’t say 100%, I was pretty
liberal for a few speckles of spittle back there. Real humanist.” Says Stacy
“Oh yes, champion of bleach factory
rights.” Says Stella, rolling her eyes
“Bleach factory people, come on Stella,
it’s the 21st century, you can’t keep referring to them like they’re
mindless beasts of burden.” Says Stacy
“They’re mindless and they’re not even
beasts, they’re collections of machines and tanks and all sorts of inanimate
incognizant objects.” Says Stella
“That’s what the fascists want you to
think, you’re brainwashed, Stella. You can’t keep thinking it’s ok to oppress
these people and deny them basic human rights and civil liberties.” Says Stacy
“They’re not people, they are
factories.” Says Stella
“You’re so insensitive. If you ask
anybody with a valid, corporate sanctioned, spirit-bond with the factory, they
will tell you that they telepathically know that the factory identifies as a person,
and it is completely bigoted not to respect it’s true identity rather than
whatever physical form the factory happened to be born with. It wasn’t the
bleach factory person’s choice to be a factory you know, you can’t try to
oppress it and force it to legally be a factory when it really isn’t, because
it’s spiritually a person, and that’s all that matters.” Says Stacy
“If you don’t make it in politics I’m
sure you would be an excellent lawyer for a bleach factory.” Says Stella, dryly
“I wouldn’t mind that at all, it’s
something I could actually take pride in. Extremely delusional, but I’m
facetious enough that I would enjoy it thoroughly.” Says Stacy
“Obviously. I still don’t know how you
can feel so damn sure that everything you say is just peachy keen and right as
rain, every damn time, you know, never a doubt in your mind.” Says Stella
“I don’t know about peachy keen, but I
just like to presume I’m right. I’m sure I’m wrong sometimes, but I can just
write it off as a little whoopsie because I’m a child and I’m ignorant.” Says
Stacy
“What happens when you’re an adult?
You’ll just quit talking and realize you’re wrong all the time?” asks Stella
“Of course not, hopefully I can wrestle
my way into a position of power, that way I’m always right because things are
right on account of the fact that I say they are right, regardless of whether
or not they have any legitimacy or merit. Otherwise I’ll just rely on the
classic mantra that I’m right because I’m an adult.” Says Stacy
“People would tell you very quickly
that you are not right, not in the slightest.” Says Stella
“Of course, that’s how politics works,
and when that starts it just comes down to mudslinging. I would make plenty of
personal verbal assaults on their character and even as low as their physical
appearance in an attempt to discredit them, and if I cannot, I will simply hope
to tarnish their reputation for choosing to partake in the petty game of
pointless bickering.” Says Stacy
“If it’s a stranger you’ll have a hard
time disrespecting their character since you know nothing about them.” Says
Stella
“That’s the point where you just
presume things and slander them, being sure to use your mights, maybes, and
possiblys, in order to avoid catching charges from the slander patrol.” Says
Stacy
“That’s probably still slander.” Says
Stella
“If I say you might be the kind of girl
to wash small children head to toe with your tongue, I’m not saying you
actually do those things, I’m just saying there’s a chance since it’s unknown,
and anything is possible.” Says Stacy
“Unless you consider yourself a small
child, that’s not high on my list of things to do.” Says Stella, smirking
“That’s a matter of taste, but anyways,
I can just tell the slander patrol, ‘Well, I’ve seen plenty of mammals do that
sort of thing, I wouldn’t put it past any of them to be quite frank. I saw a
mammal and presumed such to be the case, that’s as far as my deciphering of the
subject happened to go.’” Says Stacy
“I’m sure plenty of people would hit
you for slandering them.” Says Stella
“I’m sure I would quickly end the life
of anyone who hit me. I’d make sure to take the hit, roll with the punch, draw my
firearm, and execute them in one motion, just to have legal grounds for
self-defense.” Says Stacy
“That’s scary, I hope you can actually
do that sort of thing and you’re not just talking out of your ass.” Says Stella
“I’ve got faith if it comes down to that;
I’ve yet to be foolish enough to get into a fistfight with somebody, and hope
to avoid that at all costs. I’m not built for that kind of tussle.” Says Stacy
“I hope your foresight can prevent you
from being that foolish, seeing how you supposedly have impeccable foresight or
whatever.” Says Stella
“It hasn’t failed me so far.” Says
Stacy
“Didn’t you fight people in a
restaurant last week?” asks Stella
“That was a knife and gun fight, I
wasn’t swinging bare knuckles or anything. Way different. I can do a hell of a
lot more fighting with a knife than with my noodle arms.” Says Stacy
“Don’t remind me.” Says Stella
“You always want to me to learn from
you, I figure I can teach you a thing or two. You say I’m not normal, but here
you are being the one who isn’t infatuated by bloodsport.” Says Stacy
“I’m sorry I don’t have the same
sickness as Americans who like to watch people beat each other to death.” Says
Stella
“I’m sure if you talked to a
psychiatrist they would tell you that it’s not insane to enjoy watching two men
attempt to beat the other one into submission. It’s only insane if it’s
incongruent with the mob mentality, so enjoying bloodsport is easily the
pinnacle of sanity, seeing how it’s even more popular than textbook sanity.”
Says Stacy
“If 1/3 of the country watches the
championship of grown men running into each other at high speeds and 1/5 of the
country has a mental illness, that’s still 33% for bloodsport and 80% for
sanity.” Says Stella
“Complacency is a mental illness too;
undiagnosed delusional masochism and Stockholm syndrome both qualify as rather
hearty insanity in my book.” Says Stacy
“Clearly nobody gets a pass in your
book, but you don’t write the book, do you?” asks Stella, rhetorically
“I could easily diagnose any bastard on
earth with the diagnostic manual to the point where I am legally entitled to
drill into his skull to attach a pill-hopper to dispense a bucket of pills so
that he can’t miss a dose simply because of how dangerous to society his is due
to his profound levels of mental illness.” Says Stacy
“What would the diagnosis be for the
average joe?” asks Stella
“Antisocial sadism for being complicit
in the torturing the world with capitalism, psychopathy for showing no remorse
for doing this; mania for having delusions of grandeur in thinking that his
life is meaningful or worthwhile, extra mania for ever having enjoyed something
at least once in his life, turning that into manic depression for having a
doubt, a frown, or god forbid shedding a tear at least once in his life;
schizophrenia if he believes in god or even morality due to its roots in
preternatural superstition; hypochondria for feeling pain; anxiety for being unsure
of himself at least once; autism because he’s misspoken, has a poor lexicon,
expresses himself facially and/or gesticulates below thespian level, or
otherwise refrained from attending a social event at least once, the list goes
on. Sane people are a mess; they put lithium in the chemtrails for a reason.”
Jokes Stacy
“Clearly it’s done nothing to help you,
unfortunately.” Says Stella
“How do you think I’m so cold and
metallic, it’s the lithium, baby.” Says Stacy
“I don’t think that’s exactly how it
works, but I don’t particularly care, you could blame fairy dust at this rate
and I would be just as concerned.” Says Stella
“Those fairy tales would be rather
grim, a little fairy flies in at night sprinkling some fairy dust on you and
you become a chemically lobotomized peasant who lives out the days in a grey,
bleak, meaningless, emotionless and subservient existence.” Says Stacy
“It’s terrible you already exhausted me
and we’ve not even left the house yet, it’s baffling that you put so much faith
in lithium chemtrails when you think psychiatry is some pill shill scam.” Says
Stella
“Sadly Babylon doesn’t like smiles so
they tend to prevent people from peddling highs, they could just shill directly
to the customer; but instead they mostly shill the placation strategy to those
who don’t want to actually want to deal with the mentally disturbed, who then
force the lobotomy pills down their throats.” Says Stacy
“I’m pretty sure most people
voluntarily seek the treatment because their lives are painful or uncomfortable
without psychiatric intervention.” Says Stella
“It’s easy to shill false promises of
funbrellas to the people seeking relief from the oppressive glumshine in
frownland, that’s as easy as getting a drowning man to sell his soul for some
air. Even if he knows damn well you don’t have it, he’ll delude himself into
thinking it might be possible and you get a free soul. Not a bad deal, seeing
how some shellycoat or something would reap it otherwise.” Says Stacy
“I could use a funbrella about now.
Remind me not to wake us up early anymore. Hearing you talk for this long is
like having a disorganized room glaring at you, but after trying your damnedest
to clean it you finally realize that you’re Sisyphus. I’ve sadly become callous
to the reprehensibility of everything you say and just want you to acknowledge
the reality of whatever you’re talking about, I have very little optimism in
warping your mind to have some healthy level of empathic capacity.” Says Stella
“Every human is damned to be Sisyphus,
it is the wise one’s who realize they don’t have to push the damn boulder and
can just heartily idle to death being indifferent to the futility of
accomplishing something. About the rising and shining, I would if I could, you
know I would, but I’m not all too alert when I’m reeling in the z’s on the high
seas of dreams. I don’t have a damn clue what somehow tempts you to get out of
bed early.” Says Stacy
“I must have still been dreaming
thinking that we would have some endearing conversation, but sure enough it was
just the usual.” Says Stella
“You’ve got to be more dominant and
lead the conversation if you’re looking for a certain flavor; you know I’m more
than likely going to ramble on about the usual.” Says Stacy
“I should know better. Next time I wake
up early I’m just going to lay there until the alarm rings and enjoy the
sleeping Stacy while I can; she’s one of your far more preferable forms.” Says
Stella
“I wholeheartedly concur.” Says Stacy,
Stella gets up and sits beside her
“I need you to try your hardest to be
quiet for as long as possible.” Says Stella
“What? That might not be very long, to
be honest.” Says Stacy
“At least until I tell you, just a few
minutes, ok?” says Stella, wrapping her arms around Stacy and pulling her onto
the bed
“You’re speaking my language now.” Says
Stacy, happily encircled by comfort, holding the warmth of Stella and closing
her eyes to try and steal a few winks, Stella snuggles her dearly, savoring the
silence for as many minutes as her conscious lets her
“Your body makes me so happy.” Says
Stella, eventually breaking the silence, pleasure drunk off the warm company
“Enjoy.” Mumbles Stacy, happily reposed
“You really need to embrace this warm
cuddly side of yours.” Says Stella, Stacy rubs her face against Stella’s,
saying nothing
The clock ticks prose and describes the
setting, something along the lines of a ticking and a tocking, quite ripe for
the echo-sensory bunch: artful. The clock lashes it’s countless victims
indiscriminately, every creed and color, man, woman, and child, all of them
fighting without any hope for victory, only out of their masochistic desire to
live fueled solely by their fear of presumedly greater pain death. The kingpins
of cocaine die mutually with the halfheartedly half-miming mime kingpins of
serving reheated meatballs, dedicated to the service of mime and meatballs, but
not to the lifestyle, resorting to mime, pretending his shtick has slipped his
mind, knowing his cold father is the one who had conditioned such silence in
the man. Both of them peddling vice, one’s empire fueled by addiction, the
other by manipulating the sense of empathic guilt in his victims by miming
anguish as his cartel serves the underwhelming meatballs supplemented by pattered,
artistically cut zucchini, and escargot; taking true pleasure in his work
watching a rotund man suck down a dozen of his slugs. Today, and every day,
these men perhaps indistinguishable from each other, identical, all finite
quantities rounding down to zero, natural irrelevance in the savory gravy of
entropy massaging heat death into the meaningless universe.
The world spins, the people blind in
the eyes, they can’t see it, that which is happenstance and not circumstance,
glazing the eyes and burning the blackness of relative irrelevance, minds
indifferent or otherwise acridly different towards existing; they care not for
the paint flakes on rusted metal or the swirling patterns on lacquered wood,
for they see themselves as paint flakes on rusted metal with their ruddy
imperfections on their epidermis unremarkable lest they are remarkably
distasteful. The world rises from the ashes of the singularity before their
eyes, encroaching to within an inch of their face and breathing down heavily
and imposing in front of the blind man who notices this breath as nothing more
than the mere wind, the children are born, grow, age, and die, and none pay
them any mind lest they bump in their folly inducing the impulsive splanchnic
rebuke of the reactive physicality which smiles mindlessly, knowing that
proactivity would be unnatural, making an effort to entropize rather than
failing to have any mental capacity to accomplish such things out of the ease
of such a hospitable facilitation. Reality knows it is an accident, regardless
of its inability to know anything save for in the furthest reaches of its
existence now comprised of unnatural wriggling tendrils known as cognizant life
sprouting from the last of many layers of the byproducts of the decomposition
of the rotting corpse of a misplaced speck of matter displaced from a
magnitudinal layer one higher than the void, a joke or a piece of art perhaps,
beaming a single particle, the smallest measurable and separable quantity the
fat fingered giants could manage to chip off the old block of their patron
material and place into a void in order to appreciate the rational infinity of
comparable magnitudes created between the zero of the void and their local
minimum quantum of countable quantity, possibly making a venture at science to see how low
physical countability might reach, to see how small of a speck of a speck they
might be able to find when the shackles of the temperature and pressure binding
such a particle were broken as it ventured into this vacuum, home to nothing
but the happenstantial laws of physics, doing such work solely for shits and
giggles, but everybody needs a laugh sometimes, and perhaps an explosion, and a
surprise is always nice too. The void is simply too clean to think the particle
was stray litter, for where there is one piece of litter, there is bound to be
more, and seagulls of course.
The clock ghost does well at ticking,
patted pleasantly by its legal guardian with a supportive smile of a ghost
wrangler human-high on sympathy, awarded temporally audible accolades
accounting for the fact that it is mentally and physically disabled, it smiles
for it is a simple beast, happy to have
a home where it’s fragile carapace is supported, dignified and
significated by the manifest of the misbegotten exile in the darkness tasted as
physical existence, existence simply happy to have a friend. A good friend,
time is; it’s a work horse of a horse-minded horse-bodied ghost, dependable in
loving codependence.
Stella cutely kisses Stacy, faux-dead
in the face of recreational dying “It’s time to go.” She says,
“No it’s not.” Grumbles Stacy
“Yes it is.” Says Stella, nuzzling
Stacy’s face
“No it’s not.” Says Stacy indignantly,
groping Stella’s ass sternly, holding her head, and attempting to force her
tongue into Stella’s all too willing mouth, drying to articulate temptation
into the dream-eating demon that seeks to eschew her out of her cradle of comfort
and into the bone-breaking bastard of a world, Stella eventually gets her fill
of synthetic-passion before barely attempting to force herself out of Stacy’s
grasp
“Come on, I don’t want to be late.”
Says Stella
“Let’s just take the day off.” Says Stacy,
desperately kissing Stella’s neck, dreaming as always of being a vampire whose
poison inflicts irrational temptation for folly as opposed to hematophagy
“No, you devilish woman, the temptation
is sickeningly powerful, but I might just resort to biting you out of fear or
something. We can have fun tonight.” Says Stella
“I’ll bite you back. Damn it. You’re
the demon, forcing me to attend your stupid cult meetings.” Says Stacy
“I believe that would be the truancy
laws.” Says Stella
“Those laws are less enforced than the
prostitution or gambling laws. You can’t be scared of a law because it exists;
it has to be enforced for it to be meaningful. People who fear the de jure law
are the only reason those laws exist, realists only care about the de facto
law.” Says Stacy
“Well, I’m sure we would at least get a
letter for something. I’m sure dad would be upset.” Says Stella
“He would forget about it before he
would even bring it up.” Says Stacy
“That’s not the point. What would we
even do? We can’t stay here, if we wander the streets plenty of bad things are
likely to happen.” Says Stella
“I can make sure that they don’t. It
will be fine. Let’s do that. Let’s have an adventure or something, I have lots
of money.” Says Stacy
“You making sure that bad things don’t
happen qualifies as a bad thing happening. If you want to, we can go out this
weekend, ok? Not today, please. I want to go to school, I love you, but I’m
still kind of addicted to school. I suppose it’s my cigarettes and you’re my
liquor, if we use dad as a metaphor.” Says Stella
“Just leave me then. I’m sick.” Says
Stacy
“You’re not sick. That’s even worse;
then teachers will ask me where you are and give you extra work. You would also
need a doctor’s note on top of that. It’s the second week of freshman year, we
can’t become truants already. If the time comes when we have to be truants, for
whatever reason, that’s fine, but we shouldn’t force that by any means. I’m
about to throw you out of the damn bed Stacy, I’m not joking.” Says Stella
“I’d like to see you try, I’ve got
magical wrestling skills, remember.” Jokes Stacy
“I’m pretty sure they would fail you
since you’re not doing any good by attempting to skip school. Just get it over
with. I’m sure you want to see your friends.” Says Stella
“I’ll just bang my head on the desk and
take some silver spray-paint out of the arts and crafts room so I can become
stupid enough to fail to question the pertinence of what I’m learning.” Says
Stacy
“It’s stupid people who don’t realize
it, Stacy. Even if we only had to learn fun facts about small insects for 8
hours every day of our childhood, it would be just as important and pertinent
to our success and well-being. School is important because society makes it
important, it doesn’t matter if we learn anything relevant; it is relevant
because it is basically the only thing that determines the opportunities we are
afforded in the future.” Says Stella
“I am the future.” Says Stacy
“No, you are a silly little girl. Just
get up.” Says Stella
“You’re the one who got me so damn
comfortable.” Says Stacy
“I’m going to bite you then.” Says
Stella
“Do your worst.” Says Stacy, defiantly
“Just say uncle.” Says Stella,
unbuttoning Stacy’s shirt and sliding it off of her shoulder to bite her
collarbone playfully
“Auntie.” Jokes Stacy, Stella bites
down quite hard
“Jesus Christ.” Says Stacy, Stella
bites down harder “What the fuck, stop.” Says Stacy, spanking Stella
forcefully, Stella mumbles a two syllable something before biting down even
harder
“Uncle! God Damn it, you sick little
girl!” Shouts Stacy, Stella releases her bite
“I didn’t know if you really wanted me to stop.” Teases Stella
playfully, a very bold bite-mark deeply implanted into Stacy’s shoulder, Stella
starts to button Stacy’s shirt back up
“What kind of freak do you take me to
be?” asks Stacy, exasperated and painfully confused
“Just testing the waters, you do tend
to be a bit weird, you know.” Says Stella
“I’m getting up, Jesus. You’re the
weird one.” Says Stacy
“I told you to say uncle, didn’t I?
It’s quaint how quickly fools forget words of wisdom that might save them some
pain and suffering down the road.” Jokes Stella, getting off of Stacy
“Where did you even learn that game?”
asks Stacy
“Television, sadly.” Says Stella
“I will pray to Jesus to personally
thank him that we don’t watch that much television if you are that easily
influenced. Good god.” Says Stacy
“If it helped you see the light of god
and actually be grateful for something, I’m pretty proud of myself.” Says
Stella
“Biting people until they have faith in
god would seem to be a pretty surefire route to success, at least if you’re
doing the biting.” Says Stacy
“I think they would just usually kill
people who don’ have faith, biting is a little too playful for serious business
like that.” Says Stella
“What part of that is playful?” asks
Stacy
“I thought you were a mammal. Plenty of
mammals play around like that.” Says Stella
“Carnivores maybe, you don’t even eat
meat.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure our ancestors had plenty of
meat. It’s just a playful instinct. Forgive me if you’re that upset.” Says
Stella
“I’m not upset, just surprised. I
didn’t expect anything like that from you. Pain seems kind of like a sick joke
to me now.” Says Stacy
“What do you mean?” asks Stella
“It just feels like some stupid laugh
and an idiot chuckling telling me ‘you’re not dead yet’” says Stacy, feigning
the accent of a stereotypically mentally deficient southern man
“Wow. That’s kind of crazy.” Says
Stella
“The crazy part is I think the joke is
funny for some reason. I’m chuckling with the man. I guess I’m an idiot too or
something.” says Stacy
“That’s a profound level of idiocy to
find pain entertaining if it’s not some fetishistic pleasure.” Says Stella
“I think I’m more prone to profound idiocy to be honest.” Says Stacy
“Don’t give yourself a hard time if you
really liked it.” Teases Stella, playfully
“That’s the last thing you want, pain
thus far has reminded me that I made a mistake, and painlessness is the pat on
the back. If I was into pain I wouldn’t be long for this world.” Says Stacy
“That’s good; I suppose you were in the
wrong just then.” Says Stella
“Vice is a cruel mistress.” Says Stacy
“It’s called vice for a reason. Let’s
go.” Says Stella, grabbing her things
“Tally-ho.” Says Stella, in a tired and
disinterested monotone as the girls exit their room and head downstairs
“We’re going to school dad.” Says
Stella
“Keep up the good work, privates.” Says
Dale, laying on the couch with his eyes closed, saluting the celling
“I think we’re more than privates.”
Says Stacy
“You’ve got to command somebody to be a
corporal.” Says Dale
“So that makes me the corporal.” Says
Stella
“Of course I’m the private.” Says
Stacy, smugly
“You’ve been promoted to private first
class for your heroism in the field of duty.” Says Dale
“I’m still a private though, can’t I be
something better.” Says Stacy
“Well I don’t know. You don’t command
anybody, do you?” asks Dale
“No.” says Stacy
“Do you have any special skills?” asks
Dale
“Not in particular.” Says Stacy
“It’s got to be something, you do
activities and stuff. I know that.” Says Dale
“I just hang out with people, I don’t
know. I’m boring.” Says Stacy
“You do that Animal Club thing on the
weekends.” Says Stella
“I don’t think walking some dog is a
special skill.” Says Stacy
“Of course it is. I can make you a
Specialist. Specialist D, dog patrol. See?” says Dale
“Does that make me a higher rank than
Stella?” asks Stacy
“Well, no. She’s still the commander,
but you’re in the same pay grade at least. Kind of the same. Somebody’s got to
give the orders, even if you’re all the same you know. Can’t have a snake with
two heads that want to go different ways.” Says Dale
“That’s fine. I don’t even like dogs,
but I can appreciate the pay grade equivocation at least.” Says Stella
“Just don’t go out and get tattoos of
the ranks, they might get higher once you get out of school. Commanding a lot
of people in some business setting, you girls are real smart, I know you can do
well like that.” Says Dale
“I wasn’t planning on it; I’d hate to
be on dog patrol my entire life.” Says Stacy
“Go out and do good at school then, I
know it’s a nice one your granddaddy sends you to.” Says Dale
“It is; we are very grateful. Let’s go,
Stacy, wouldn’t want to be late. See you later, dad.” Says Stella
“Ta ta, corporal.” Jokes Dale
“Don’t die, ok, dad?” says Stacy
“You’re the one in the line of fire,
Specialist.” Says Dale
“Don’t remind me, what are you
anyways?” asks Stacy
“I don’t know, I guess I never
commanded anybody, but I was good at stuff at one point, so a specialist like
you, Stacy, a master electrician before Tommy’s drunk ass hit me with a company
truck when I was walking on-site one morning. You know he didn’t get fired,
apparently the truck was fine, big bastard of a truck.” Says Dale, pouring
himself a healthy drink to forget the pain
“That’s kind of ironic, now that you’re
drinking in the morning.” Says Stella
“It’s not; because I’m not driving. I didn’t drink like this back then, I was a
good boy.” Says Dale
“No harm no foul. You’re still a good
boy.” Says Stacy
“That’s true enough. I’m glad he didn’t
kill you.” Says Stella
“He chose to kill me slow. It’s a shame
that no matter how smart you are, it’s so damn easy to end up dying on account
of somebody else’s stupidity.” Says Dale
“As long as you don’t drink too much
you won’t die, so don’t worry about that.” Says Stacy
“I’ve got a good track record so far,
I’m not too concerned. Just enough to keep me alive.” Says Dale
“That’s as responsible as you can be I
suppose, speaking of which, we really should be off.” Says Stella
“I’ll be here when you get home, thanks
again for that food, hit the spot real good, going to sleep like a baby today.”
Says Dale
“No problem, you know I’m happy to
cook. Ta-ta.” Says Stella
“Toodle-oo” says Stacy
“Pip-pip.” Says Dale, the girls walk
out the door
The sun walks into a booming venture
capital office building, one of the many such places that employ a man of his
skills, all starkly different save for the fact that they pay the man solely in
company stock and free lunches, knowing that he is unable to convert it into
money due to his own mental iniquity but will keep coming back to work for the
lunch, thus keeping him arguably voluntarily impoverished by his own
shortcomings. The receptionist smiles politically correctly and gives him a
master key on a lanyard which he hangs around his neck. In the lobby he strips
to reveal his wiry frame starved by poverty, and withdraws a large bottle from
his tattered noun-starved backpack, he pours a healthy amount of very thick
syrup composed mostly of painfully palpably pungent cabbage juice concentrate,
breathes deeply in great shame, and rubs it on his flaccid penis and scrotum.
He then begins to walk the halls unfettered, already full of salarymen working
sun-up to sun-down, sparing no office or executive. He wanders day and night,
getting paid in stock, doing this same thing every day.
“God damn it, why is that fucking idiot
Steve here again?” shouts a disgusted man
“Don’t be a fucking bigot Joe! Don’t
disrespect that man, he works hard!” Shouts an angry woman
“How does what the fuck he is doing
qualify as work, for Christ’s sake?” asks Joe
“I AM ART!” shouts Steve in a booming
voice
“What the fuck kind of work is that?”
asks Joe
“First of all, fuck you, Joe.” Says a
man who hocks a beautiful loogie and spits on Joe
“What the fuck, Lenny? Why did you do
that?” asks Joe, even more disgusted
“I’m your boss Joe; I can do whatever
the fuck I want! Don’t make me remind you I can put your fucking balls in a
vice! I’ve got a fucking vice in my office if you want to test me! Second of
all, Steve is a blessing, he is a fucking saint, and you better respect that.
He is art, it is inspirational, you should love him.” says Lenny
“You fucking kidding me? He fucking
wreaks! All day we have to deal with this shit, him just walking around and
smelling like cabbage! How is this inspirational?” says Joe
“You should be inspired to work even
harder, work to death, because Steve is here to remind us what happens if we
don’t push ourselves to the limit. We are starved, naked, and reek of cabbage
if we don’t perform at the top of our game, every fucking day. I hope the smell
lingers for weeks to come and reminds you of what you would be without this
job, and truly fucking appreciate the opportunity you are given.” Says Lenny
“Jesus Christ, you’re insane.” Says
Joe, Lenny spits on him again
“Fuck you! I am god! This is Venture
Adventure, motherfucker, I call the fucking shots when the big boss is getting
his dick sucked or playing golf, so you better respect that! Get to work!” Says
Lenny who slaps Joe on the back of the head forcefully
“It’s like I’m a fucking child in a
sweatshop or something.” says Joe
“Don’t make me get the fucking vice,
Joe.” Says Lenny, glaringly serious
“I’m working, I’m working.” Says Joe
“Good.” Says Lenny, satisfied, Steve
continues to amble around the office
Oddly the sun was happier in his mortal
incarnation than his glowing gaseous self, rather lonely in space, a sleepy
place, it’s a pleasant reprieve to have a meat-bag to dream inside of every now
and again, the original soul inside of the art form known as Steve did not want
it, so traded it to the sun for some extra warmth and sunshine, not a bad deal
for any involved, as trash somehow manages to find those who treasure it once
again.
“God damn. Ambivalence is beating me
with a sack of oranges.” Says Stacy
“So it looks worse than it is? Vague as
ever, describe the ambivalence at least.” Says Stella
“Well, it’s the school-dread fatigue,
of course, the painful existentialism of a slave, and the strong desire to
smash everything with a sledgehammer, nearly to the point of gritting my teeth,
but not quite, due to fatigue I suppose.” Says Stacy
“It’s just school, get over it. If you
convince yourself it’s a bad time it will be, but if you just ignore your
antipathy towards everything, maybe you could just grin and bear it.” Says
Stella
“God damn feelings. Who the hell likes
feelings; get these things out of me.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure you will forget them soon
enough, just distract yourself like always, you tend to be prone to that
anyways.” Says Stella
“For some reason feelings always feel
like weird hallucinations, like they’re not real, just like nonsense that I’m
imagining. Like formication with ghosts or something, spooky as hell.” Says
Stacy
“Phasmagation.” Says Stella
“God damn spooksters. Just give me the
animal feels, raw, warm, real, none of this ghost shit.” Says Stacy
“I’m sure the source of feelings is
preternatural.” Says Stella sarcastically
“It’s as preternatural as preternatural
things, delusional unnatural hallucinations. People couldn’t just be cut and
dry like every other animal, the paranoia of an unnatural apex predator, so
they develop the skillset of emotional capacity in order to defend themselves
from their only predator, themselves.” Says Stacy
“I think that kind of makes it natural,
but whatever.” Says Stella
“God damn, get me some of that fucking
lithium.” Says Stacy, inhaling and exhaling deeply, repeatedly
“I think deep breathing might help.”
Says Stella
“You know damn well it will. Fuck.”
Says Stacy
“Is school really enough to make you
feel this way?” asks Stella
“You know it is. Melting my brain, each
slow stroke of the second hand caning my brain ruthlessly. Walking to my own
torture that won’t end.” Says Stacy
“Just try to listen and appreciate it
for what it’s worth rather than loathing it because you’re too damn proud or
whatever. Something might be interesting at least.” Says Stella
“Trying to make a fire with twigs, it’s
rough. Some things are better than others; math in particular is quite dull.”
Says Stacy
“I think it’s pleasurable to sit down
and figure things out, it’s kind of a sense of accomplishment.” Says Stella
“I’m just sitting there trying to pull
a rabbit out of a god damn hat most of the time.” Says Stacy
“Come on, it’s not that hard. You need
to ask me if you don’t understand something.” Says Stella
“The rabbit is the motivation to
compute the damn numbers rather than listen to them whisper in my ears about
how we should embrace our mutual realities and get high on nihilism.” Says
Stacy
“If it doesn’t matter, and you’re not a
hedonist nihilist forsaking everything in pursuit of pleasure, why would you
even mind doing it?” asks Stella
“It’s pure nihilism, just melting away
at the world, nothing is real, nothing matters, I’m nothing, the numbers are
nothing. It’s just like slipping away into the wind, turning to dust, that
feeling.” Says Stacy