Rolling My Eyes

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. She took a long drag off her cigarette. Tommy watched her lips slightly slip a part; watched the puff of smoke slide between them. "You still think it was all my fault," she looked at him. Longer than she wanted to allow herself. Tommy fixed his eyes onto the ground. Minnie could feel the hurt fly fierce into her eyes. She threw her cigarette on the ground. Tommy watched her blue sneaker grind it into the gravel. He watched her feet turn and begin walking away; shoes scratching. Fuck, she never looks back, he thought. "Minnie," he said, after her. Tommy... "Minnie," he said, again. And she stopped walking. Tommy had never seen Minnie cry before, so he went to her and he held her. They were in Tommy's bedroom. On the bed and near the open window, they passed the joint between each other, but not words. The radio played. I lose my head I close my eyes They won't touch me ...

"Do you want bubbles, Sissy?" Tommy asked. She jumped twice, arms flapping in front of her and then she stopped. She looked up at him. "YES!" she shrieked, then pulled at her clothes. The cookie clumped on her face and mashed between her fingers made Sissy look ugly, Tommy thought. Dirty and ugly. "Shut-up, Sissy," he said to her, as he bent over the tub, pouring shampoo into the warm water. And Sissy jumped some more, behind him. Sissy hated soap, so Tommy was very wet, as he sat down on the toilet lid, to wait while she played in the water, for awhile. The cuffs of his shirt were sopping and his wrists were itchy. He thought about rocket ships. He stared at the ceiling. Sissy was dressed for bed and they were standing in the bedroom, but now they could not find Lydia. And now Sissy was crying; loudly. Her fists were in a ball and her feet looked as though nailed to the floor. She was screaming and red in the face. Tommy ran out of the room and did no...

Edward Julian Watson was beginning to wonder why he ever bothered to look into the mirror. My cheeks are getting fat....GAWD, and he patted his hands against them. They were definately getting fatter. He then shook his cheeks with his fingertips. Oh, and definately wobblier. Edward Julian Watson was wearing a white undershirt. And blue boxer shorts. And brown socks. Edward Julian Watson was driving in his blue Datsun and it was 7:09 AM, his really cool digital watch had told him. He had glanced at it because he was sitting at a red light and really had nothing better to do. This is also why he looked in the rearview mirror. And noticed his cheeks again. Edward Julian Watson went dining on his lunch break. To K-Mart. Edward Julian Watson placed many white paper napkins on his lap, while he ordered the hot beef sandwich. The peas that came on the white plate were just too green to eat. Edward Julian Watson had drank too much coffee on this Tuesday morning. And poor Ed...

She opened the crumpled paper carefully. It was more than just another oddity spring cleaning turned up, though it was found buried in the corner with a heap of credit card receipts and discarded napkins. The letters were scrawled in a familiar hand. It was only the ink she didn’t recognize. She slouched down into the kitchen-table chair that resided next to a clutter she called affectionately, “computer desk.” The kids were screaming about something in the backroom. Sometimes sound has no meaning. Bills were pushed aside. The computer bleeped to say that Tom had just signed in. She laid the paper down in the small clearing in front of the keyboard. She didn’t like the strange silence of this new one as her fingers flew across its keys. Her eyes lingered over the paper, then she got up to find her cup of coffee. Then she sat back down. Then she got up again as there was no lighter to spark her cigarette into a flame. Before calling in the kids to find it, she looked at the words ...

She scooped the Kraft Dinner out of the thin pot, onto the gold and white plates and then placed a naked hot dog, beside the noodles. Wanted to vomit from the smell that filled her nose. "I want ketchup," Tommy said, from behind her. "Me, too. Me, too," Sissy echoed. No manners. But it did not matter. "There is none,” Momma picked up the smelling plates; her eyes watching a ray of sunlight splashing the wall underneath the cupboards. And Tommy said nothing in reply, but she could feel his eyes burning into the kitchen table; right through the metal. She turned and two steps and dumped the plates; fast, onto the table, in front of the two children. Then Momma left the room; headed towards the washroom. Could feel the bile, burning the back of her tongue. Her cold feet slapped to a stop in the middle of the living room. She took two, deep breaths. Relax... Momma sat down on the couch. She busied herself, pushing back her cuticles, from scratched nails. Sh...