There is something odd about the way she walks. Too sprightly, if that’s an apt word. She has such a large smile on her face that I fear it will crack her skull. A beautifully shaped skull actually.
I’ve never noticed skulls before. Yes, you can have a beautifully shaped face. But the skull, underneath is where beauty is at its most natural. This beauty however, is rarely noticed because of distortion by fat, skin, noses, ears and other facial features of note. The eyes, as the liveliest part of ones face, obliterates any hope of glimpsing the inner, skullar beauty.
She turns to look at me with one eye. I wonder if it hurts to be but skull and eye. All bone and eye. I kiss her eye and –
Dammit! Got carried away again. These psychopathic fantasies must stop. She’s nearer now, still smiling, still energetic. God! How I hate that! Am I the only one who find excessively nice people infuriating? Don’t even mention bank service people.
Or psychiatrists for that matter. How the fuck do they get their voices monotone enough to be unirritating, yet remain so, so, soo...the word escapes me. Damn! I’m off the wagon again. Maybe I should get a drink to calm me down a bit.
I doubt that she likes drinking. Nice people never like to drink. Why the hell not? Do they fear that drinking wouldn’t make them nice anymore? Isn’t being slightly immoral a bad thing? Thank God niceness is not infectious.
But a smile is. Which is what I feel myself compelled to do in her presence. Why isn’t her teeth blacker? If your mouth is open all day, wouldn’t that mean that more dirt, and maybe bugs would be accumalating in-between your teeth. Hmmm, I wonder if her teeth are cold?
“What the fuck are you doing?” I say to her. Apparently she’d been standing there for a long moment. “You were in one of your fucking dream moments again. Slapping you always helps to get you out of them.” She slaps me again. Harder.
Alas, she is not nice, but how I wish she was.
Columns by OricXe