Guilt and sadness do not work well together. For me it is one or the other, and it dominates nearly every waking thought. I am alone again.
I met Magdalene's father when we were children. He did not like me at first because of my white skin. He said,
"Malcolm, do you know why the white man scares me?"
I shook my head, afraid if I would speak I would scare him.
"The white man scares me because he has no religion. Do you have a god, Malcolm?"
"Yes sir."
That god is me.
I never learnt to iron my clothes. My mum did it for me, then Magdalene did it for me. Mum said Magdalene couldn't do it well, but mum's dead now. She can't say what Magdalene did well or not, and she did everything well. Except fuck someone else.
When we were but teenagers, recently out of high school, I wiped her back with my Beatles shirt. Then I told her to turn around and I punched her in the face. Bitch like it, a hot thing falling on her. It wasn't hard, it was a hot thing. We could take a romantic bath together and eat truffles and drink champagne like French prostitutes.
"Dude, what's the plan?" he said.
"Well, we cover ourselves in bubble wrap-" I hate when I get interrupted.
"Bubble wrap?"
"It's light, makes no sound,-"
"Bubble wrap has bubbles. Bubbles pop."
"Fine, we'll use cellophane. We won't leave a trace."
"Without a trace" he chuckled.
"You're stupid. Have you ever seen that show?"
"No"
"Point in case"
"Whatever"
"Anyway, we only put the cellophane suits on inside the building, or we'll raise suspicion. In the lift or something. It'll be quick and easy. Then when we get to his floor we bust his door,-"
"Wouldn't that make a lot of noise?"
"Ah, you're right my dead Edward. Well, since she lives with him now, we'll just steal the key from Mag-"
"Mag?"
I couldn't say her full name.
"Yeah, that's what I called her in bed." LIES, ALL LIES.
"Oh."
"I'll figure out a way to get it. Then we go into his flat, get a glass out, pour the alcohol-"
"Ethanol"
"Same thing- in and leave without a trace. Teach him to fuck my lady."
I love my Magdalene. She is mine, she's mine. She will always be mine mine mine. She is mine.
I met Magdalene's father when we were children. He did not like me at first because of my white skin. He said,
"Malcolm, do you know why the white man scares me?"
I shook my head, afraid if I would speak I would scare him.
"The white man scares me because he has no religion. Do you have a god, Malcolm?"
"Yes sir."
That god is me.
I never learnt to iron my clothes. My mum did it for me, then Magdalene did it for me. Mum said Magdalene couldn't do it well, but mum's dead now. She can't say what Magdalene did well or not, and she did everything well. Except fuck someone else.
When we were but teenagers, recently out of high school, I wiped her back with my Beatles shirt. Then I told her to turn around and I punched her in the face. Bitch like it, a hot thing falling on her. It wasn't hard, it was a hot thing. We could take a romantic bath together and eat truffles and drink champagne like French prostitutes.
"Dude, what's the plan?" he said.
"Well, we cover ourselves in bubble wrap-" I hate when I get interrupted.
"Bubble wrap?"
"It's light, makes no sound,-"
"Bubble wrap has bubbles. Bubbles pop."
"Fine, we'll use cellophane. We won't leave a trace."
"Without a trace" he chuckled.
"You're stupid. Have you ever seen that show?"
"No"
"Point in case"
"Whatever"
"Anyway, we only put the cellophane suits on inside the building, or we'll raise suspicion. In the lift or something. It'll be quick and easy. Then when we get to his floor we bust his door,-"
"Wouldn't that make a lot of noise?"
"Ah, you're right my dead Edward. Well, since she lives with him now, we'll just steal the key from Mag-"
"Mag?"
I couldn't say her full name.
"Yeah, that's what I called her in bed." LIES, ALL LIES.
"Oh."
"I'll figure out a way to get it. Then we go into his flat, get a glass out, pour the alcohol-"
"Ethanol"
"Same thing- in and leave without a trace. Teach him to fuck my lady."
I love my Magdalene. She is mine, she's mine. She will always be mine mine mine. She is mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment