Bloogieman

Sunday, January 25, 2009

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Flossie and Warren at Home

Flossie, saturated with fatigue, flickered open her eyes in time to see the pickaxe slash into her belly. She emitted a half-hearted chuckle, unable to muster a full-fledged, good-humored laugh. Warren, sensing Flossie's foul mood, lifted the tool from her torso, unwittingly disembowelling her. As Warren left the room, Flossie closed her eyes again momentarily to reconsider her attitude and concluded she shouldn't slight Warren simply because she was tired. Warren had been good to her, and after all, she was all he had. Rising from the cot where she had been relaxing, Flossie reached for her housecoat with one hand while attempting to contain her pancreas with the other. In the bathroom she sprinkled her lesion with baking soda from the medicine cabinet and went softly into the den where Warren was industriously sawing off his fingers with the lid from a tuna can. Unnoticed, she watched with affection as Warren completed one hand and began to unzip his fly. "Warren," she sighed, "I've been such a bitch all day." Looking up, Warren smiled understandingly and allowed a castigated forefinger to slip from between his lips. "You only want someone to talk to, to do something with," Flossie said. A tear came to Warren's eye as he once again saw how much Flossie meant to him, and he to her. Flossie smiled. Warren, unable to suppress his emotions, stepped briskly to the fireplace, picked up the wrought-iron poker from the rack and charged at Flossie, pinning her through the neck to the wallpaper. "Warren," she tried to say, "I love you."

Bloogieman

Sunday, January 25, 2009

7 comments:

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