Velouria (velouria) wrote,

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In This World

Halloween weekend. In bed with my cat Yoda. Avoided going to Kohl's for decent blouses to wear next week even, thinking it possible I'll encounter young, attractive scantily clad mice and unicorns in the Arden area searching out ears and horns.

Had to turn the AC on this evening. Youtubing Babu's Relaxing TV with fireplaces and falling rain by candlelit windows to try and make up for the lack of Autumn here.

Laying in bed gazing out the window until my eyes crossed and blurred onto the powerlines and Comcast cable cords in the cloudless blue sky. A fat little bird settled on the wires and looked down at me and Yoda. Yoda chirped and wiggled his butt, coldly calculating the bird's demise. "That's our friend Matt," I said to him as he leapt onto the window sil and lunged at the glass. "You can't eat Matt."

I reached over for my phone and held it an inch fro my nose, closing one eye so I could see close up. I typed in his name and saw that we were still friends on FB. "Remembering Matt" a banner popped up. I scrolled down through the posts wishing him happy birthday each December since he had died.

I looked back up at the bird. He was still there, shifting on his tiny feet and looking down onto us placidly. "Do you remember me?" I asked him, letting my phone flop back down into the pink blanket. He stared. "I remember you," I told him.

My attention flickered to the mirror in the vanity across from me. I thanked the Universe my bangs had finally grown back long enough for me to cover my forehead that I'd grown so sick of looking at the last two months. Yoda jumped down from the window and stepped on my chest, an activity he could not understand my dislike for. My boyfriend let him do it, why shouldn't I? I shouted that he was hurting my boobs and my sternum I was sure that my former accupuncturist had cracked a few months ago (still considering suing her).

The first visit to her had been innocuous enough. I'd laid on my side wishing I hadn't worn so much makeup that was smearing all over the pillow jammed beneath my face as she stuck dozens of pins in my buttflub. I couldn't feel anything (but who could with all that buttflub?). She left and came back long after the needles had stopped shivering and a piercing midi of David Bowie's 'China Girl,' (presumably signaling that it was time to remove the needles from my buttflub) played over and over.

I closed my eyes and sighed heavily, wondering what would happen if the building were to catch on fire. Would she come back for me or would I have to tear myself from the apparatus and run from the room into the streets like Pinhead from Hellraiser? Fortunately a fire did break out, and eventually she came back and shut the Godforsaken midi machine off.

It was on the next visit that she put her mits all over my "pressure points." This  included a death grip made famous by Vulcans from Stark Trek on my neck, and the afformentioned cracking of my sternum. "Ow!" I had yelled, imparting upon her a look I usually save for inept middle management in my government job when they instruct me to do something beneath me. "Ow ow!" she parroted back to me in her heavy Chinese accent as she continued inflicting what was surely a WWE move on me. "That hurts!" I had exclaimed, incredulous that she was still doing it. If given the opportunity to get in a DeLorean at 88 miles per hour and revisit this episode in my life, I am sure I would sit up and backhand her through the wall and into the next room where someone else had needles stuck in their buttflub.

Instead I had cursed a bluestreak and continued to glare at her as if she was Karen, the Staff Services Manager II  that was was instructing me to clean the refridgerator in the Contracts breakroom. The "doctor" concluded that my problem lay there in my chest, and that I was to go home with really, really gross herbal tea that would restore me to perfect health. The legal action I plan to take against her at some point will center around my current state of crap health and now, broken sternum that hurts when my cat walks on it.

Yoda swung his butt around into my face and laid down on my chest. The pressure lifted and I exhaled, relieved the pain had subsided. I laid my chin onto his white fur and looked back up to the bird. But he was gone.

"I remember you," I repeated, and slipped into sleep.

Tags: accupuncture, fat little birds, halloween, matt, middle management
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