Suzi (k00kaburra) wrote,

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Do I taste of cherry, apricot, or sour grapes?

Yume: Davy and I are making out in the back of a '57 Chevy. He says my kisses have changed and I taste different, and there is a long awkward pause. He rips at my skin and it peels off, layer after layer through flesh and muscles until only my bones clatter at the bottom of the car seat. He cracks open a bone and sucks down the marrow. "Thank goodness the taste of this never changes."

Work was busy today. It was a pleasant change, a break in the monotony that normally gives me plenty of time to watch my split ends grow. One semi-regular, an ex-football coach at DeAnza, came in and bought out every last one of our danish rings. Cherry, strawberry, apricot, almond, cinnamon, combination – he wanted every single one. I sliced each one up for him, and we chatted about football at the high school and college level for a good fifteen minutes.
When I got off work at nine, I drove home and crashed. I was completely burned out – it's so much harder to wake up for work now that every day's an early day. My body was being cranky and sending little spikes of pain up and down my lower spine while a dull ache throbbed in my lower right ribcage. Around ten-thirty my brother poked me awake, reminding me that I still had to go to class. I sighed and begrudgingly went out to Donatello, who then braved the mighty 85 so that we could arrive at school early.
The freeway is so much faster than taking city streets – but I refuse to take it during rush hour. It's still far too scary. It cuts commute time in half, though, so I'll be sure to do it every day now. I wandered over to the boyfriend's class and waited outside for a few minutes, programming my cell's voice message to kill time. It was funny seeing him step out of class and listen to one of his old voice mail messages chatter in my ear. There was also an invite from Quail to try and meet up today so she could meet the boyfriend (and the Russian she dates needs new cannon fodder, she assures me), but I was too tired/lazy to call her back. So I walked Sailor to class and tried to sleep in my car since I was trapped on campus until Bandaid decided she was ready to leave. Around one, a headache started to come in, so before it struck I called and demanded she show up or get another person to take her home.
She showed up quickly so I drove her home, spun back to my house, curled up on the heating grate, and expired. Mom yelled me awake a few hours later, informing me that company was coming and since she felt poorly I had to go to the grocery store to buy food. She felt poorly? SHE felt POORLY? But since she still has the power to kick me out and force me to live on my own on the street, I took Donatello up to Albertson's and bought potstickers. She called while I was at the store to add 'spaghetti squash' to her list, which I can't stand but had to purchase anyway. Bye-bye money!
While I drove home Davy called, so I pulled over and we each unloaded a month's worth of bitching on each other and hung up feeling much better. Mom wondered why I was so late – I told her the spaghetti squash was hard to find because it wasn't in the pasta section. I had to crawl away very fast to escape her swat she aimed at my butt.
So my cousin and my auntie came over for a few hours, bringing Chinese food with them. I cleaned out my closet with my cousin, removing lots of old clothing that I'll either give to Goodwill or sell on eBay, depending on how interesting and visual they are.
It's not that I love you, though I wish I could. I don't even like you. It's true. I'll just weave you a web, my web of lies, and you can lie in it, just like the flies. I'll spin you a trap so fine, so fine, you'll fall in and be mine...and make me a widow, a lovely black widow – with an hourglass dripping blood on my thigh, my thigh.

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