WAIT FOR IT!
I know it’s just going to be a let down. There’s really no way to make this what it needs to be. I am apologizing in advance. Words are shit-stains. This is my underwear. You are a pair of pants. There is too much between us that separates.
I WANT TO CRUNCH THE NUMBERS IN YOUR HEADGEAR!
Sorry. Put wax on the sharp parts of your braces so you don’t cut the inside of your lips.
There I was, just minding my own business in Venice, CA. Minding my own business just like the sun does. That crazy, private sun who keeps everything on the DL. (I have a feeling he doesn’t know we all can see him) I was just strolling along and I’m in a farmer’s market! Look! A farmer’s market! It’s all around me! All turbulent with hummus and papusas and woven shopping bags! There’s fragrance! I want to spin around with my arms spread out but I refrain. It’s what I do…refrain.
The farmer’s market is a bulletin board. Every booth a business card. Okay. Okay, fine. I’ll partake. I’ll become one of these sheep. I say that. To myself. As I’m walking and not spinning. I’m a free-ass bird! I’m a seagull!!!
It all comes down to looking at a booth. Trying to figure out their wares. I have an iPhone and five bucks in my hand. My iPhone is all about the day I’m having. It was like, LET’S GO OUTSIDE, DOG! So, here it was, with me, in hand, all wide-eyed, you know how they get.
It’s all smashed up against my five dollars. They’re like a loving couple all sexed up against a video game machine. The booth I’m looking at has a tub full of tubs. Ice-covered. Olives. Fucking OLIVES! Why do I want olives?!?! Oh, I don’t want any olives! That’s right! I am just “perusing wares.” Jesus. H. Christ on a stick giving a handjob!
ALLASUDDEN! The old man, the one with all of his teeth, thrusts…yes, THRUSTS….a plastic spoon into my hand, but we’ll get to that later. Let’s talk about this thrusting. Man, I haven’t seen anyone thrust like that since I watched 300. The plastic spoon came at me like one of those 3D arrows in Avatar! Such a direct and powerful thrust. It made me reach for it as if instinctively blocking a mortal blow. That was how I came to be holding the spoon. There was no other choice but for me to take it from him. I also suspect there was mind-control involved.
On the spoon was a gooey white substance. LET YOUR MIND WANDER LIKE MINE DID! Oh, the plethora of substances that this white gooey stuff could be identified as!!!! It was a whirlwind!! My mind did backflips, rode surfboards to Antarctica and also sky-dived off the Eiffel Tower! My mind watched the LOTR Trilogy. My mind hitchhiked through Europe trying to imagine what the white goop could be! I had a spoonful of goop in my hand that a stranger just handed to me AND WHAT WOULD I DO NEXT?!?!?!
I did not want to know what it was. I did not ask him to repeat whatever gobbledygook phrase he recited when he handed it to me. I decided right then and thurr I AM GOING TO PUT WHATEVER THIS WHITE GOOEY SHIT IS INTO MY MOUTH AND I WILL BE LIVING ‘ON THE EDGE’. My iPhone was all like, “Whoah, dude. Slow down!” but I ignored it and I put the white goo on the spoon into my mouth.
What happened next was metamorphosis. My tongue shriveled into some sort of brownish-wrinkled turd-shaped cocoon thing. Inside the turd began a pupae/larvae type of dealio. There was a lot of turnings and tossings and wrigglings and writhings. If the feeling had lasted longer than fifty milliseconds I would’ve had to rip my tongue out of my mouth with a pair of pliers. But then it paused…and there was a still moment then, inside my mouth, a moment a man could cry in…comfortably…without embarrassment….and then my turd-tongue exploded into a huge-dicked butterfly that simultaneously shot its load all over the inside of my mouth. My teeth turned into daffodils that turned into Virgin Mary’s that turned into stripper tears that turned into a tiny orchestra playing Beethoven’s’ Thirty-Third Symphony which is one of the one’s he wrote for God that God loves the MOST and plays on repeat like, ERRY day while he works out.
That all happened in like one actual second.
My eyes got big and the old man knew he had a keeper. Well, he knew all along. He knows all the time. He had an entire army behind him, mouths all stemmed with white plastic spoons.
Dude shoved ANOTHER spoon in my hand! It slammed up against my iPhone and five dollars. More white goop. I shoved it into the orchestra. They played some more. So loud my ears started bleeding. I asked for a napkin but they didn’t hear me because I was actually still savoring the white goop and only asking with my mind. My shoulders captured all of the blood. Red epaulettes .
The one with no teeth told me all about the goop. I was like, ‘you had me at thrust.’ I spun then. Put my arms wide out and spun spun spun. Looked up at the sun sun sun. Who finally noticed my stares and middle-fingered me, so rude. But then I came back and then I gave money. My five dollars pulled apart from my iPhone and there it went and there it’s gone.
He put the white goop in a brown paper bag and I was like, MOM, I LOVE YOU! I PROMISE I WILL FILL THE CAR UP BEFORE I COME HOME! I SWEAR I DON’T DO DRUGS! I HAVENT EVER HAD SEX YET! I WILL TAKE THE TRASH OUT TOMORROW MORNING! IS IT COOL IF YOU SING ME TO SLEEP TONIGHT? IT WAS ME WHO BROKE THE KNOB OFF THE DRYER! A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE! I’VE NEVER HEARD YOU AND DAD SMACK FIGHT IN THE BASEMENT! I WILL GROW UP AND NEVER BURDEN YOU ABOUT THAT TIME DAD’S PLUMBER FRIEND TOOK ME INTO HIS VAN! WHAT’S FOR DINNER TONIGHT?
I took that bag and I walked that bag. I walked a straight line. One of those “bee” ones. I thrummed straight through all the wayfarers. I kicked every stroller out of my way. Much to the chagrin of the screaming parents. I held my white goop like a football. Like a lover. Like a toddler. Like a paint can. The white goop and me. Together. Walking down the street like Tony Manero. All the while, God’s favorite symphony still being played in my mouth.