Why I Did Not Post Anything Today
Today dealt me nothing but suffering and despair. My constant striving for excellence in the field of Mortuary Science has been entirely for naught. Today I tried to inject embalming fluid into a customer, but he woke up and told me that he "wasn't dead." Then he tried to wrestle the embalming kit out of my hands. I was so upset that I ran to the arcade, crawled behind Alien Crawdaddy Shoot-'em, and wept bitterly for at least twenty minutes. And this afternoon I found an obviously dead woman on a park bench, so I opened my kit and started putting makeup on her. I only wanted her to look nice for the casket! But she woke up and tried to cut me with a piece of hubcap! Get off my back, bitch, you looked dead! Damn, I'm just trying to do my job! Confederacy of dunces, no shit. And last week I tried to embalm a polar bear that I saw in a bar, but that damn bear had already been to the taxidermist. So, whatever. Whatever. I just don't know.
4 Comments:
Esther!
Have you seen yesterday's post on Beautiful Atrocities? You're famous (again)! The accompanying photo of you is somewhat disappointing though- I'd always imagined you more twisted by bitterness than physically wizened by age. Nice specs though!
I love you Ms Wilderforce-Packard. Not the love that a man has for a woman before he rips her panties off and does her up against the laundry room wall. No it's the sort of love that one would have for small furry kittens, a full-bodied wine and any movie featuring Julie Andrews twirling on a mountaintop.
I love you in that other way.
Thank you, Spirit Fingers. Though we've never met, I miss you - like the deserts miss the rain. I step off the train, I'm walking down your street again, and past your door - but you don't live there anymore. And the years have proven to offer nothing since you moved. You're long gone, but I can't move on. And I miss you - like the deserts miss the rain.
Now, Chris. You're out of line. Why can't you be more like Spirit Fingers? We raised all you kids the same way, but you've gone bad. Was it because you didn't get piano lesson like the others did? We were living in a car then, son. No room for a piano.
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