Rolling My Eyes

"I have let down the blood in several places, and applied the dressings to the wounds. Keep them in place for an hour. He will be comfortable now, but he will not last the night." He touched her shoulder briefly, as he continued shuffling down the great hall, letting himself out. She rushed to the windows and looked into the early evening light. Something was so good about these lands. Something so good, it overwhelmed her sometimes. Made her sick to her stomach. And they are to be mine now.... . She didn't want them. Of course she didn’t. She was only seventeen, and she had never left the walls of Caerleon. She wanted to rebel, to be free. She had wept on her father's chest for the last three nights in a row, but not for his coming death. "Find a husband," he had croaked out his solution, while he smoothed her hair away from her face. She had almost left Caerleon once. When the dark-haired stranger had shown up in town. He had slept with the horses l...

If she wanted it that way, then it was going to be that way. It had to be that way. There was no other way. Everything was black and white. Even if others did not want to admit it. Did it mean she felt an overall bleakness towards the foibles of humanity--no. Did it mean she escaped overwhelming emptiness sometimes--no. She was twenty-three years old when she left her hometown. She would not return. She knew she looked at everyone differently; she saw the things others did not, chose not. She knew their truths better than they did and they could read it on her face; she could hurt them with it. Sometimes, she did. She did not want to be cruel anymore. She left for somewhere new. Things would be better. And they were. In Los Angeles. That's where she went. Some nights she would dance in her living room to ZZ Top or paint pictures of fairies and Snow White on the cardboard of cereal and Hamburger Helper boxes. When it rained, she would put on blue jeans and her favorite sw...

For the rest of the week, Edward Julian Watson did not take phone calls from Amy, and Becki did not make phone calls to him. Edward Julian Watson avoided as many phone calls as he could from his mother. But he knew he could not let that go on forever. He would have to call her tomorrow. Or his mother might get back on the plane. And then get to his apartment and have the landlord let her inside. "Well, I see you're not dead!" she had accused him. And then she had stayed with him for the next three days and nights and had slept in his bed. And he knew he would have to get a new one after she left or he knew he would never be able to have sex in his room again. When his mother was back home, Edward Julian Watson decided to switch bedrooms too. Just in case. He did not want to go through that again. He did not feel like moving entirely. Yes, Edward Julian Watson would call his mother tomorrow. But today he was going to call Amy. "I was back home at my mothe...

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. When Daddy came home drunk again on Friday night, she waited in the kitchen playing Solitaire, until she could hear him snoring. Creeping through the house and then into her parent's bedroom, Minnie knew she would find her father's pants on the floor beside the bed. The glow from the hallway bathroom provided the light for seeing into her his wallet. Shit. There were no tens. Oh, well. She took a twenty. When Tommy saw Minnie on the other side of the glass, his heart leapt into his throat and he was so happy he wanted to cry. He put his hand on the glass and waited for her to put her hand up against his, and when she did not, he sat down. He picked-up the phone and said to her, "Why haven't you come? Have you been getting my letters?" She shrugged. Brushed her hair from her eyes and for the first time really looked into his. "Oh, Minnie. I'm so glad you're here..."...

Punks Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. But stoned or not; even asleep, Tommy's words would come back to haunt her. Dear Minnie, How could you leave me here to rot? How could you not come see me? You must think I did it too. Well, fuck you, Minnie. FUCK YOU!!!!!! Tommy She cried and cried everytime she read the letter; and she could do almost nothing else but. She wanted to go see him, but she was too scared. Climbing through her bedroom window late, Minnie walked the all-night over and over again. And waited for the next visit from Officer Rialian. He stopped by every other day. She did not go to school. She stayed in her room and her mother never came down the stairs to notice. She erased the school's messages from the answering machine every day, before her father came home, until the one day, Daddy stayed home and Minnie had to go prentend going to class. And when she came home Daddy was waiting for her, with an envelope in hi...

Dear Minnie, You didn't come. I wonder why. Maybe because you thought I was going to get out on Tuesday anyway. Is your Mom sick again? I guess by now you know I didn't get out. The judge did't show-up for court and the other one was on vacation or something. My lawyer was freaking mad. He was jumping up and down and stuff. He said "We'll get those fuckers! We're gonna fucking sue!" He's a crazy guy. He gets so excited I swear he is gonna have a heart attack. But he also says for sure I will get out for Monday. They only have proof I was drunk. I want you to come see me on Saturday even though I am getting out on Monday--no matter what. Promise? The guys are cool here and all but I really want to see someone from home. I want to see you. Did you go to the funeral? Love, Tommy

And now it's thirty years later; she's almost 40 and she is lonely and sometimes she shakes her head and she wonders, Why, why, why am I so lonely? And then she remembers why. It's Daddy. She buried him five years a go. And good. She showed-up early in the morning and asked the diggers, if she could help. And they let her. She took off her heels and shoveled dirt till the end. Back when the summer shone everyday, she would run around or ride her bike, or swim in the lake with her friends, or run into the bush and meet up with Tyler Johnson and she would let him kiss her and she would let his tongue slide around all inside her mouth, or sometimes, she would just hang-out with her brother. However, he was mean, as brothers can be, and he would do mean things to her- like hold her head under the lake’s water too long or practice his karate moves on her-and she would cry to her Mom, "Make him stop." But she never would. No one ever listened to her. That's wha...

Thursday Afternoon Dear Minnie, I have been here for three full days now. The lawyer says he’ll get me out Monday. He’s a pretty cool guy. He goes on about how the cops are the real rats and they’re all corrupt and he tells me we will nail those bastards to the wall. He makes me laugh. It's fucking great. Most of the time I spend playing cards with some of the guys or drawing tats in my cell here. I have given some of my flash to some of the guys here. A few already have some tattoos. Mostly stuff they have done to themselves here. Mostly without color. Mostly terrible. But that's okay. A whole bunch of the them said they would come see me to have them covered up when I set up shop. If they all show-up, I have figured out I’ll make 6000 dollars so far. That's fucking awesome. I can't wait until I am old enough to apprentice. Birdie says she'll teach me, but she doesn't think I will want to do it for very long. Says I will probably give up. Don't you...

Edward Julian Watson felt numb, his whole body tingled with it. It had been a long, rainy drive home from his mother's house, but he had to get out of there and took the first chance he could. The woman wouldn't shut-up. He knew she was right, this would be in the Monday's afternoon paper. And in Tuesday's too because the did not call his case until the last possible moment the judge was willing to work. Sunday night had been long, lying awake, in his old bedroom with its yellow walls. He had not eaten anything, since shoving his face full of Double Big Macs from McDonalds the evening before, an hour after getting out of jail. And now it was evening again. He made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, and tried to warm the cold numbness of his body. Becki was feeling rather numb too. It was not her mother's mention, during dinner, of, "You look pale tonight, dear. Are you coming down with something?" that made her aware of the numbness she wa...

Daryl wanted to touch Marissa's boobs. “I am gonna have to let him soon,” she told Miguel. “I have been his girlfriend for 2 months now.” Miguel told her, “I think that’s gross.” But Marissa did not care much about what Miguel thought. She stuffed her training bra with socks and she made him lay down on the bed beside her anyway. And he obeyed his older sister because knew she could kick the shit outta him and no one was home to save him. “Touch my boobs,” she demanded. And when he did, his sister started making low moaning sounds. Miguel did not know why she was doing that, but it made his penis hard, and although his penis had been hard lots of times before, this was infinitely more exciting. After that, whenever the parents were not home, it would always be time to ‘practice’. It was not long before Marissa was making him touch and lick her real boobies. It felt good to press himself against her body, while she was writhed her own beneath him. It lasted for half a year, but the...

Sitting in the back of the car, Tommy was sad Barbara would not allow him to get a dog. He had wanted one so bad. For so many years. The world rolled by fast, as Dave drove down country back roads and the fields of corn sure were boring for Tommy. So he asked, "Why are all of us dressed in white?" "It's Sunday; it’s God's Day. White represents the cleanliness that He wants us to live our lives with." "Oh," said Tommy. "And white clothes also keep us cool on terrible days such as today," she continued, and then to her husband, Dave, "If we put the top up, we can put on the air." Dave laughed and reached over to pat her leg, but otherwise, ignored her. "What does the color green mean, Barbara?" Tommy had picked his nose and was looking at a booger. It was too hot in the church, so some of the boys had brought the long wooden pews outside and set them up along the side of the church. Most churches Tommy had been to we...

Later on, Edward Julian Watson was sitting in a jail cell and the local police force were ignoring his pleas to use the telephone again. He had tried to use it several times, but when he had picked up the reciever, there was no way in hell he could bring himself to dial his mother's phone number. "Everybody sucks!" Edward Julian Watson screamed through the bars and the officers in the lunch room laughed. They had been laughing at him for the past three hours. Jimmy popped his head out the door and yelled, "Shut-up, tough guy, or I am going to go arrest some bikers to throw in there with you!" Edward Julian Watson sat down, cross-legged on the floor. It was almost lunchtime. Maybe he would go on a hunger strike. Maybe he was gonna sue the badge right off that stupid nigger cop too... Nobody offered Edward Julian Watson lunch. But they finally did let him the chance to make another phone call. An hour and half after he had shut his mouth. Edward Julian Watson...

Edward Julian Watson arrived to pick-up Becki at 10 p.m. He was at least seven hours late. At 8 o'clock that evening, Becki had told Ms. Johnson, "Just tell him I went out." And Ms Johnson did as requested, always willing to keep her tenants satisfied. "Sorry, sir, but Becki is out," she informed Edward Julian Watson. "If you just let me go up and knock the door to her room, I know she is home," he wanted to convince. But Ms. Johnson just shook her head at him. "I'm sorry, sir. There are no visitors in the rooms after 9 p.m. and its an hour past now. If this is important, I can leave her a note to get a hold of you when she arrives home." "But you see, she is spending the weekend with me. This is how I know she is not out." Edward Julian Watson was becoming indignant. "Oh, no, sir. Becki went out with a nice boy tonight. His Daddy is a banker and his shoes and his hair were so shiny. Oh, and so was his smile! He dr...

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. Mostly with other people. But that had not been happening too much lately. There is no Tommy. There is no Krystal. There is no one who wants to know her. Except Billiy-Boy. Always fucking Billy-Boy. And Phillip. And Phillip is so popular. And he is so blonde and blue eyed. He says he will talk to her in front of others--but he doesn't; at Minnie's request. He really wants to walk her home at night. It surprises Minnie how much you can get to know when people claim you as invisible. She hears a lot of conversations these days. "I bought some new lipstick..." "That Susan Howe makes me so mad..." "I love Patrick sooo much..." "I love the colour. It's great, right?" "I am gonna punch her in the face, I swear." "I just know he is going to ask meee out." Melaine, Sandra and Nancy; smoking, in a circle of self-interest. And she hears Phillip ...

Samantha always hated going to church. 'Thou shall not this' and 'Thou shall not that'. She felt it was pointless to be told not to do what she wouldn't do anyway. And since she turned 13 and officially too old for Sunday school, there was no escaping Reverend Patrick's rants. His very long, very loud, two-hour rants. Not that Sunday school had really been any better. Everyone was loud there too. Poor Mrs. Chute’s voice was so high-pitched, when she yelled "Quiet!", she just blended in with the screaming kids. Samantha felt bad for her, so she hid in a corner pretending to read her Bible; a pocket-sized copy of Huckleberry Finn or The Swiss Family Robinson tucked neatly inside, while the other kids ran dizzy around the room wearing the plump, little woman out. Mrs. Chute also came to teach religion class twice a month at the school. Mostly she would teach songs and read the stories she was never able to during Sundays' classes. At home, Samantha...

Sissy threw her cereal around the kitchen from her highchair. Milk and Cheerios hitting the kitchen cabinets, before sliding to the floor. "I want a cookie, Tommy, I want a cookie," she wailed over and over again. But Tommy was late and he did not answer her. Instead, he wheeled the highchair into the living room and flipped on the television; finding a cartoon. "Let Momma sleep awhile," he warned his little sister. Momma was still asleep on the couch. "O-tay, Tommy," she replied, and Tommy reached over and took the two-dollar bill that was on the coffee table, and he ran out the front door and to school. The big green doors of the school were pretty big compared to Tommy. He looked up at them and then down to himself reflected in the dark glass. Maybe I won't go to school today. Tommy had thought this before. Sometimes as a daydreams and sometimes as bed dreams and sometimes at times like these. Tommy hated walking into class late. Everybody sta...

She could not taste the gin, but she could feel the gin and the slow burn down to her belly every time she took a swallow. She looked around the room and noticed her half-read Emily Bronte. She wanted to be like her. Just like a man. Maybe, if she were just like a man, maybe then she could forgive herself for wanting to do this. For allowing her heart to be part of this. And then she threw out the thought completely. Stupid, men are always right; therefore, never in need of forgiveness... “What is the matter with you?” Her mother asked her twice through dinner and Becki had been Emily Bronte then. Stone-faced, she had stone-walled her mother’s questions and asked others. “Mother, are those new shoes?” Edward Julian Watson had let the cold water run hard and fast earlier, so he could make juice, and now much later, he was trying to fix the kitchen faucet because it had never fully shut off after. The big drops of water hit the sink loudly,interrupting his reading now, but had n...

As the tears dripped down her cheeks, she looked up to find Tommy standing over her, with his hands held securely at his sides. She could see that one fist was more bulged than the other, and before she had time to think of the trouble, he stabbed her in the chest, taking the baby, while she and the pillow fell to the floor. There was no crying, and no gasping for air, only running out into the cold January air where Tommy slipped on the ice, landing on the same knife he just stabbed her with. The baby could never withstand the cold, she knew this, when she looked through the window. He was only wearing his diaper and undershirt and the wind was whipping. She turned on the outdoor light, watching Tommy for the next hour, to make sure he was still breathing. He had stabbed clean through her left tit. No real damage done. When the rain started coming, thick with frozen ice, she turned it off and went to bed. She set her alarm for 4:30 in the morning. And Tommy was easy to wake-up then,...

I feel lonely. She thought it to herself for the 100th time that day. Even amongst the stuff of others. The stuff she would trip over. The stuff in every freaking corner. Even amongst their mutters and moans, their words, their letters. Alone. She rationalized. She generalized. Of course, everyone secretly feels this way. Of course, they do. Tommy didn't pay his half of the rent again yesterday. Of course not. She saw it coming, watching him pretending it was not. He tried to give her 100 dollars. "Way to go, Mr. Coporate Confrence-Call." She was disgusted with him. With herself. She had seen it coming. An apple a day keeps the doctor away... She remembers the chanting voice of her first grade teacher. Mrs. McDonald. She was so old and she would move around the classroom so fast. She would go home and ask her grandparents why they did not. She believed in that little rhyme. She knew she was human. She knew she had to eat. And she hated the doctor. Tommy ...

Edward Julian Watson loved Sunshine Travel . That was the name he had choosen for his new shop. He loved to say the name out loud. He would say it over and over again to would-be vacationers. And would he say it to himself in the mirror all the time. There was really no one else to talk to. So it is a very good thing Edward Julian Watson loved his business. It was evening on Friday and Amy was not caring for much. When she paid for her things at the pharmacy checkout, a little red sign told her the candy bars were on sale. Two for a dollar. So, she figured she could short the cable bill five dollars that month and she bought herself some right away. She sat down on the bench, just outside the store. She ate a Snickers bar first. "That's a lot of candy bars," Edward Julian Watson said out loud, as he walked out the pharmacy doors, but more to himself about his own bag of goodies. Amy thought otherwise. "Do you want one?" she offered. And later he asked...

Suzy walked down the hallways, books and files clutched firmly against her chest. She caught herself clenching her teeth. She hadn’t managed much sleep the previous night. She wondered how Tommy’s exam went. She wondered if he had went through her binder. She wondered if he had looked at chapter 4. She wondered if he had looked at her handwritten notes, especially the ones written below the algebraic formulae table. “Fuck,” she thought, as she recalled for the thousandth time the intricate heart-crossed figures with Tommy’s and Suzy’s names in it... ~by vinny~ Suzy felt like an idiot... But Suzy was no idiot. Tommy knew that. For a fact. He knew damn well he had passed his test and it was only because of her. He even admitted it right on his test. He answered the essay question with their dialogue. Suzy was the smartest girl Tommy had ever known. He had seen the pretty little hearts and his name always written in bold, with her black pen. And Tommy loved Suzy too. He sat on his bed ...

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. And man, she wished she had a joint right then. But she had rolled up all the roaches for Tommy earlier. Minnie could feel her heart starting to race again, she felt like she was going to puke again. She raised her hand to cover her mouth. But it smelled of river water and rotting wet leaves. She could not stand the smell of the summertime creek stained to her hands. And Minnie puked again. And Minnie swallowed it again. Her eyes burned worse than her throat. She did not let a drop out of anything out. What if they could use her vomit to figure out she was there? Through DNA or something? That thought would rise up much higher in her throat and it was strong enough to make her swallow. But not strong enough to make her leave the park. She knew a joint would give her the courage. She just walked in circles. Until she saw him. He was there. Sitting with his head propped up against the seat of a bench and sleeping...