Morphine
Him- Frustration
I am a simple king with simple pleasures, simple ideas and simple attire.
So when the student body found out I’d broken my relationship off, there was uproar. It was social chaos. Girls plotted in hushed tones as to who would be my next queen.
What do you say to your people as they vote for your next endeavor? What do you say when you have no intentions of listening to them?
“I’ve already got one.”
Despite what our mothers said, you have to lie sometimes. You have to say things you don’t mean and you have to look absolutely perfect while you do it or respect, esteem and sex will become a foreign territory, most especially the last.
I went to the mall in the hope that I wouldn’t have fabricate the truth to impress my mother, god rest her soul (and she’s not even dead).
There is a place in this institution of brainwashed children and their mainstream points of view that I’ve never been. The clerks look as if they might enjoy sucking my blood for breakfast, all pierced and abnormally pale. Until this day, I have walked on the other side of the corridor to avoid them.
Today I waltz right in…
With Edmond.
“Damn,” he says, drawing the vowel out once more. “Who is she?” I stare at him blankly.
“Off topic, dear?”
“No, really, look.” He says, smiling unusually wide. I turn to the register.
The girl standing behind it, wearing a ruffled black dress, folds a roll of red duct tape into roses, humming. Her insane, ghostly beauty transfixes Edmond. I roll my eyes and continue searching the racks.
“Can I help you, sir?” She asks him, looking up from the thirteenth plastic adhesive flower. Her voice is haunting, even in such as simple sentence. It’s as if she has two voices, both airy-fairy. One screams, the other whispers.
“Ah, yes… that is, er…” Edmond stumbles for something to say. She smiles patiently and he goes white.
“Well, Edmond, if you figure it out,” she says cheerfully, a finger on his nametag from the Which Wich? in the food court where he works. “I’m Melanctha and I’ve been hired to assist such confused young souls as yourself in their shopping endeavors.”
He stammers back to me.
“Find something you like, Eddie?” I ask, holding a shirt up to myself and putting it back.
“Uh-huh,” he mutters, never taking his eyes off her. I shrug and grab some clothes at random, assuming that they’re all black and therefore match, and set them on her counter.
“Get what you wanted?” She asks, tying her finished bouquet together with a white ribbon.
“Yes, I think so.” I reply, fishing for my wallet. She laughs, looking through my choices.
“So what’s the occasion?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well,” she sighs. “Obviously, you’re not in here much or you’d know how very mismatched this all is, which leads me to think you’re faking scene for something. Maybe a girl…” She looks me up and down. “Maybe a boy?”
“A girl… She’s having this high-toned and fancy to-do up at her---“
“Oh, the Anti-Homecoming. Me too!” She smiles and rushes over to the shelves and racks, whipping out a shirt, pants and several accessories, including makeup, and returning. She shoves my picks aside and rings up hers. “These are much more appropriate, amigo. And that’ll be $64.52.”
“Oh,” I say, not planning on spending quite so much. She grins and taps a few keys. It goes down to $47.16. Roughly a thirty-percent discount.
“Oh, look at that! You must work in the Belleville store.” I pay her with a debit card and she pulls me down whispering. “I wanna see him Saturday night too, okay?”
“Definitely.” I grab Edmond and leave. She waves to him as we go.
So when the student body found out I’d broken my relationship off, there was uproar. It was social chaos. Girls plotted in hushed tones as to who would be my next queen.
What do you say to your people as they vote for your next endeavor? What do you say when you have no intentions of listening to them?
“I’ve already got one.”
Despite what our mothers said, you have to lie sometimes. You have to say things you don’t mean and you have to look absolutely perfect while you do it or respect, esteem and sex will become a foreign territory, most especially the last.
I went to the mall in the hope that I wouldn’t have fabricate the truth to impress my mother, god rest her soul (and she’s not even dead).
There is a place in this institution of brainwashed children and their mainstream points of view that I’ve never been. The clerks look as if they might enjoy sucking my blood for breakfast, all pierced and abnormally pale. Until this day, I have walked on the other side of the corridor to avoid them.
Today I waltz right in…
With Edmond.
“Damn,” he says, drawing the vowel out once more. “Who is she?” I stare at him blankly.
“Off topic, dear?”
“No, really, look.” He says, smiling unusually wide. I turn to the register.
The girl standing behind it, wearing a ruffled black dress, folds a roll of red duct tape into roses, humming. Her insane, ghostly beauty transfixes Edmond. I roll my eyes and continue searching the racks.
“Can I help you, sir?” She asks him, looking up from the thirteenth plastic adhesive flower. Her voice is haunting, even in such as simple sentence. It’s as if she has two voices, both airy-fairy. One screams, the other whispers.
“Ah, yes… that is, er…” Edmond stumbles for something to say. She smiles patiently and he goes white.
“Well, Edmond, if you figure it out,” she says cheerfully, a finger on his nametag from the Which Wich? in the food court where he works. “I’m Melanctha and I’ve been hired to assist such confused young souls as yourself in their shopping endeavors.”
He stammers back to me.
“Find something you like, Eddie?” I ask, holding a shirt up to myself and putting it back.
“Uh-huh,” he mutters, never taking his eyes off her. I shrug and grab some clothes at random, assuming that they’re all black and therefore match, and set them on her counter.
“Get what you wanted?” She asks, tying her finished bouquet together with a white ribbon.
“Yes, I think so.” I reply, fishing for my wallet. She laughs, looking through my choices.
“So what’s the occasion?”
“Excuse me?”
“Well,” she sighs. “Obviously, you’re not in here much or you’d know how very mismatched this all is, which leads me to think you’re faking scene for something. Maybe a girl…” She looks me up and down. “Maybe a boy?”
“A girl… She’s having this high-toned and fancy to-do up at her---“
“Oh, the Anti-Homecoming. Me too!” She smiles and rushes over to the shelves and racks, whipping out a shirt, pants and several accessories, including makeup, and returning. She shoves my picks aside and rings up hers. “These are much more appropriate, amigo. And that’ll be $64.52.”
“Oh,” I say, not planning on spending quite so much. She grins and taps a few keys. It goes down to $47.16. Roughly a thirty-percent discount.
“Oh, look at that! You must work in the Belleville store.” I pay her with a debit card and she pulls me down whispering. “I wanna see him Saturday night too, okay?”
“Definitely.” I grab Edmond and leave. She waves to him as we go.
♠ ♠ ♠
So, obviously this doesn't have much to do with the story... but I'd like to write about Edmond Melanctha next or least sometime.Maybe I can call it 'Ecstasy.'
^_^