The Glove Compartment
Mary Elizabeth and Matilda
There's this girl,
Who had hair like a black bird's nest.
She was the author of the stars penned upon her wrist.
The icy tundra of her eyes hid something within their ravine;
Sheltered was the flame of love.
A dying ember, it sough a heap of human kindling,
At which they licked and wholly consumed.
She poured into me,
Every crack, every crevice, filled.
Matilda was my missing piece.
But nothing is forever;
Every rose is reaped.
Alone she was.
And alone she went.
Gone.
“What shalt I name it?” thought Raph out loud. “Helmsley.” he spoke, writing it down. Helmsley. It was a name attached to great sorrow and great pain. He though with pain and anguish. The stillness of the air around him was sickening. But the silence, to his relief was shattered.
“Raph, come on. Time to go.” called his sister from the base of the stairs.
“'Kay,” he replied, “Where are we headed to?”
“You know!”
“Oh,” he sighed, “You know they don't work, just like snake oil or hypnotists. But eh, why argue?”
“Good boy, you can have your Milkbone now, but wait! Sit— Sit.”
“Shut up whore.” responded Raphael, who was now chuckling. “Hush now or it will be back to the brothel without your pay.” Just as he finished speaking, the horn of a car blasted from outside.
“Come on Raph, Aunt Katherine's waiting.”
“'Kay let me grab my Chucks and we'll be on our way.” Quickly he slipped on his Converses and they trotted out the door; as they passed through the threshold Mimi patted her brother on the head. Before the two hopped into the car where their aunt was waiting, Raph howled.
“What took you two? I've been waiting for what seems like forever.”
Mimi answered the question in a cool, relaxed tone. “What kept us, Aunt Katherine, was a relatively peculiar conversation which encompassed prostitutes, Milkbones, and a great deal of possible innuendos which never occurred. Your question was one better left unasked.”
“I see, well it's a pity I didn't. No matter how many hoes, dog treats, or nonexistent sex jokes were involved, you were, as my mother would say, slower than molasses in an igloo. Or, was it like a cat on a hot tin roof? Eh, I forget. How about some music?”
“Sure, we could do with a lighter mood.” said Raph, having not realized what horror would occur because of it. But alas, it was too late now. Aunt Katherine tuned the radio to her favorite station, and the sound of ABBA piped out of the speakers.
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
I remember long ago when not a starry night would—
Mimi was just too annoyed; she slammed her finger on the power button in an attempt to silence the beast and, to her relief, was successful.
“Why'd you do that?” asked Aunt Katherine, her voice tinged with whine.
“You're too nostalgic.” snapped Mimi, who obviously despised disco with all her heart. In response, her aunt huffed but continued to drive. But Aunt Katherine was determined, she decided to wait a few moments before she struck again. She let a minute or two pass and in the moments before she struck, her eyes darted between her niece and the knob. Aunt Katherine's finger dashed to the stereo and the ballad was revived.
...Something in the air that night,
The stars were bright,
Fernan—
Mimi, flashed a glare at her aunt before she killed the rhythm once more. “How about we listen to some real music?” She stared at her with one eyebrow raised, and before her aunt could respond, she pulled a CD out of her purse. After a few seconds of reading the sharpie scribbled on it face, she popped it in and a really fast paced song began to fly out of the stereo.
Do you have the time
To listen to me whine
About nothing and everything all at once?
I am one of those
Melodramatic fools
Neurotic to the bone
No doubt about it.
Sometimes I give myself the creeps.
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me.
It all keeps adding up,
I think I'm cracking up.
Am I just paranoid?
Or I'm just stoned.
As the song rambled on, Aunt Katherine said, “Um, err... Mimi, I don't think that song's appropriate at the present moment.”
“Oh sorry 'bout that. Wasn't really thinking, was I? Here, I'll put something more peaceful on.” She pushed the button and the tracked changed to a peaceful, melodic tune.
Run away from all your boredom
Run away from all your whoredom and wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye.
All it takes is one decision
A lot of guts, a little vision to wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye.
It's a race for rats to try
It's a race for rats to try
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a maze for rats to try
It's a maze for rats to try
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
Sick and tired of Maggie's farm
She's a bitch with broken arms to wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye.
It's a maze for rats to try
It's a maze for rats to try
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
Burn away
Run away, run away
Run away, run away
Run away.
“Oh, Mimi, that was fantastic. Who's it by?”
“That was 'Slave to the Wage' by Placebo.”
“Do you know them?”
“No they're from England; pretty popular in America though. Did you notice that the singer sound vaguely feminine?”
“Yeah but I eventually figured out he wasn't. To hell with disco!” she announced throwing her arms up in the air.
“Aunt Katherine!” Mimi screamed as the car began to swerve.
“Oh!” she gasped. Quickly she grabbed the wheel and regained control. Raphael, who had been sleeping in the backseat the entire time, awoke at all the commotion.
Rubbing his eyes he asked, “What's going on?”
“Oh good Raph, you're awake. Nothing happened, but there's something I need to ask you before we get there.”
“What Aunty?” he asked, apparently still in a fog.
“What do you know about your mother?”
---------------------------------------------------------
“So Raphael, tell me about your family.”
“Well, my mother, as I just learned, is locked up in a nut house; my father has always worked abroad, he never comes home; I live with my aunt and sister they're pretty nice people; and my last girlfriend—” He froze.
“Your last girlfriend what?” she asked with urgency.
“She had light gray eyes and a bird's nest of black hair that she kept on the top of her head.”
“You last girlfriend what, Raph?”
“Her name was Matilda Helmsley.”
“What did she do? Tell me!”
“No.” he said simply.
“What? But it seems to be the source of your breakdowns!.
“I don't give a fuck. I don't trust you yet.” After he finished speaking, a silence enveloped the room. The psychiatrist, a woman by the name of Mary Elizabeth, scampered off to her desk for the rest of their session. There she wrote studiously about his behavior. Before Raph knew it, their 45 minutes were up.
“See you next Tuesday” could be heard as Raphael slammed the door to her office. They were off to a good start.
Who had hair like a black bird's nest.
She was the author of the stars penned upon her wrist.
The icy tundra of her eyes hid something within their ravine;
Sheltered was the flame of love.
A dying ember, it sough a heap of human kindling,
At which they licked and wholly consumed.
She poured into me,
Every crack, every crevice, filled.
Matilda was my missing piece.
But nothing is forever;
Every rose is reaped.
Alone she was.
And alone she went.
Gone.
“What shalt I name it?” thought Raph out loud. “Helmsley.” he spoke, writing it down. Helmsley. It was a name attached to great sorrow and great pain. He though with pain and anguish. The stillness of the air around him was sickening. But the silence, to his relief was shattered.
“Raph, come on. Time to go.” called his sister from the base of the stairs.
“'Kay,” he replied, “Where are we headed to?”
“You know!”
“Oh,” he sighed, “You know they don't work, just like snake oil or hypnotists. But eh, why argue?”
“Good boy, you can have your Milkbone now, but wait! Sit— Sit.”
“Shut up whore.” responded Raphael, who was now chuckling. “Hush now or it will be back to the brothel without your pay.” Just as he finished speaking, the horn of a car blasted from outside.
“Come on Raph, Aunt Katherine's waiting.”
“'Kay let me grab my Chucks and we'll be on our way.” Quickly he slipped on his Converses and they trotted out the door; as they passed through the threshold Mimi patted her brother on the head. Before the two hopped into the car where their aunt was waiting, Raph howled.
“What took you two? I've been waiting for what seems like forever.”
Mimi answered the question in a cool, relaxed tone. “What kept us, Aunt Katherine, was a relatively peculiar conversation which encompassed prostitutes, Milkbones, and a great deal of possible innuendos which never occurred. Your question was one better left unasked.”
“I see, well it's a pity I didn't. No matter how many hoes, dog treats, or nonexistent sex jokes were involved, you were, as my mother would say, slower than molasses in an igloo. Or, was it like a cat on a hot tin roof? Eh, I forget. How about some music?”
“Sure, we could do with a lighter mood.” said Raph, having not realized what horror would occur because of it. But alas, it was too late now. Aunt Katherine tuned the radio to her favorite station, and the sound of ABBA piped out of the speakers.
Can you hear the drums Fernando?
I remember long ago when not a starry night would—
Mimi was just too annoyed; she slammed her finger on the power button in an attempt to silence the beast and, to her relief, was successful.
“Why'd you do that?” asked Aunt Katherine, her voice tinged with whine.
“You're too nostalgic.” snapped Mimi, who obviously despised disco with all her heart. In response, her aunt huffed but continued to drive. But Aunt Katherine was determined, she decided to wait a few moments before she struck again. She let a minute or two pass and in the moments before she struck, her eyes darted between her niece and the knob. Aunt Katherine's finger dashed to the stereo and the ballad was revived.
...Something in the air that night,
The stars were bright,
Fernan—
Mimi, flashed a glare at her aunt before she killed the rhythm once more. “How about we listen to some real music?” She stared at her with one eyebrow raised, and before her aunt could respond, she pulled a CD out of her purse. After a few seconds of reading the sharpie scribbled on it face, she popped it in and a really fast paced song began to fly out of the stereo.
Do you have the time
To listen to me whine
About nothing and everything all at once?
I am one of those
Melodramatic fools
Neurotic to the bone
No doubt about it.
Sometimes I give myself the creeps.
Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me.
It all keeps adding up,
I think I'm cracking up.
Am I just paranoid?
Or I'm just stoned.
As the song rambled on, Aunt Katherine said, “Um, err... Mimi, I don't think that song's appropriate at the present moment.”
“Oh sorry 'bout that. Wasn't really thinking, was I? Here, I'll put something more peaceful on.” She pushed the button and the tracked changed to a peaceful, melodic tune.
Run away from all your boredom
Run away from all your whoredom and wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye.
All it takes is one decision
A lot of guts, a little vision to wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye.
It's a race for rats to try
It's a race for rats to try
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a maze for rats to try
It's a maze for rats to try
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
Sick and tired of Maggie's farm
She's a bitch with broken arms to wave
Your worries and cares
Goodbye.
It's a maze for rats to try
It's a maze for rats to try
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
It's a race, a race for rats
A race for rats to die.
Burn away
Run away, run away
Run away, run away
Run away.
“Oh, Mimi, that was fantastic. Who's it by?”
“That was 'Slave to the Wage' by Placebo.”
“Do you know them?”
“No they're from England; pretty popular in America though. Did you notice that the singer sound vaguely feminine?”
“Yeah but I eventually figured out he wasn't. To hell with disco!” she announced throwing her arms up in the air.
“Aunt Katherine!” Mimi screamed as the car began to swerve.
“Oh!” she gasped. Quickly she grabbed the wheel and regained control. Raphael, who had been sleeping in the backseat the entire time, awoke at all the commotion.
Rubbing his eyes he asked, “What's going on?”
“Oh good Raph, you're awake. Nothing happened, but there's something I need to ask you before we get there.”
“What Aunty?” he asked, apparently still in a fog.
“What do you know about your mother?”
---------------------------------------------------------
“So Raphael, tell me about your family.”
“Well, my mother, as I just learned, is locked up in a nut house; my father has always worked abroad, he never comes home; I live with my aunt and sister they're pretty nice people; and my last girlfriend—” He froze.
“Your last girlfriend what?” she asked with urgency.
“She had light gray eyes and a bird's nest of black hair that she kept on the top of her head.”
“You last girlfriend what, Raph?”
“Her name was Matilda Helmsley.”
“What did she do? Tell me!”
“No.” he said simply.
“What? But it seems to be the source of your breakdowns!.
“I don't give a fuck. I don't trust you yet.” After he finished speaking, a silence enveloped the room. The psychiatrist, a woman by the name of Mary Elizabeth, scampered off to her desk for the rest of their session. There she wrote studiously about his behavior. Before Raph knew it, their 45 minutes were up.
“See you next Tuesday” could be heard as Raphael slammed the door to her office. They were off to a good start.