If I Could Eat My Words...

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Blue Monday

Cool March days such as this particular one bring the promise of winter’s greasy, dull presence.  A pervy old uncle, mooching in the corner of the room, biding his time while all the relatives coo over the children, waiting for the moment enough backs are turned so that he can cop a few feels.

 She pulled the blanket up under her chin, a gale straight out of Antarctica’s freezer; blasting off the Northbound Benguela current which hugs it’s way up the West Coast of Africa.  “Goddam it God, why all this misery?” she thought, eyes tearing at the incoming cold front, trans versed with shards of lightening.

 “It’s nothing personal, you know that.” She lifted her head slowly to the voice, half wondering if she was hearing things.  “Mind If I sit down?” he tapped out a cigarette and nodded his head toward the empty space next to her on the bench she was sitting on. “Sure” she heard herself saying, though the whole idea of having an angst filled little cry by the sea, was inherently that one does it alone.

 “What did you mean about it not being personal”, she asked “and if I may ask, do I know you?” A low soft laugh from him, “ you already know the answer to that question girl, just remember.” His hand touched hers, and a pleasant warm jolt starting at the base of her spine traveled up through her, exiting at her skull via a silver cord of light, which started pulsing with rainbow colours as it disappeared up through the clouds.

She looked at him properly, much the same age as herself, weird rainbow thingy coming out of head too, nice build, and incredible eyes. She found herself staring into them trying to decide whether they were grey, green or blue, giving up, as they seemed to turn over hues like a washing machine full of amethyst and emerald. Then she remembered.

“I didn’t know you would have washing machine eyes.  What the hell took you so long?” “The concept for the new universe has taken me a lot longer, than I guess you would have it, in time related terms. Though as you know time is an illusion that I created for you.”

“Why this Fucking life though?” she asked, “I am sure I have already done addictions, tragic death, poverty and depression before. I would have had to, in order to be sitting here next to you right now.” “I work…” “Yes I know” she sighed, “in mysterious ways.” “Can I push the button this time?”

 “Hell yeah, “ he slapped his thigh, “how ‘bout some ‘Jack’ and a menthol first? Just cue the solar flares button there on the left.” “Now you’re talking”, she said “can we keep ‘Jack’ and Ciggies for Part Two? My only reason for living this last century mostly.” “Most definitely, since it’s my turn to play the next round, while you get to be all omnipotent. By the way we are bypassing dinosaurs and creation/evolution this time (so long and fucking tedious), what a bloody stuff up in the end, caused endless problems, notwithstanding religion- also on the hit list for a ‘no go’ next time. Oh, but we are keeping whales and hookers, such fun” he said.

They lit up, slugged back amber coloured heaven, and grinned at each other like a pair of children. “We have such awesome jobs,” she said pointing the remote at the western horizon where an orb of crimson was dipping into the ocean for the last time.

“Push the button”, he said exhaling.




Filed under God universe end of the world fiction writing prose spilled ink