Happy Town

Talk. Fine. I don't want to be sitting here in this fluorescent lit room because there's snow outside and I'd rather talk to you on a walk if at all since we could watch the snow turn violet brown under the soles of shoes and the tyres of cars, all the while watching how the trees aren't but seem dead. We could do all these things, and on this walk I could tell you all about how everything sucks-or about my little problem as you say all frosty-like cause you lose patience.

And I don't really know if you care, since you're fresh and young and have no relationship with me other than my paying you some money. But it's not really my money since he pays the alimony anyhow. And this, since the judge told him to. Look at you and your little red lips sipping your little prissy Evian water. It spells naïve backwards, y'know. 'Course you know, you've got that paper on the wall with some letters and ink saying that you're smart. Smart enough to charge me fifty bucks an hour to listen to me talk. And write on that piece of paper you got there-probably a friggin crossword puzzle. Ask me one of the answers while we're at it, why don't cha.

Ok ok ok talk, and that's what I'm going to do. I walked outside yesterday and you know what happened? There were leaves. Leaves, since the snow didn't fall until today. And the leaves were rustling. Round and round in a little circle, dragging their little leaf asses up and down in the air—but they weren't doing what you think-they were taunting me. I could hear them, giggling, making snide remarks, especially since I didn't clean my hair, what, for two weeks now. They got mad at that and called me dirty head. But it ain't ratty, just a bit dull. They told me to go buy Pantene. I told them to shut up or I'd take my lighter and set them alive. They said I didn't have the guts, and I didn't, which pissed me off more. So I grabbed some of them, but saw other people looking at me so I stopped and put them down, nice and proper, but held them a little tighter than polite. The leaves got the point and just lay there for a while. I walked away.

But that wan't much better. So then I walk, and I'm doing well, since the last time you asked me to relax and gave me those pills. Wrote the prescription with your little prissy hands and perfect nails. Yeah mine look like crap but at least they're mine, not some plastic junk that comes out of a box and some minimum wager has to assemble at some hoity toity salon. Salon. So I'm walking minding my own business since I didn't find the keys to get to the car and fill your prescription, and maybe I was a little jumpy, but I was on the sidewalk, the cars went about on their own business, and no one was around. I could handle that. Until some friggin shadow comes up behind me. I could see it, I slowed down to make sure. There it was, plain as day and the 4 pm shadow, inching up behind me, onto my right hand side and try to touch my shadow. I started shaking my head and turned around to face the guy and he stared at me, in that panicky way they do when they see me. I muttered "Get off my shadow." And he put his hands up in some lame ass apology. Right-he knew what he was doing. Sorry or not, just get off my shadow. So I stood there to collect myself; I couldn't go on with that anger running through my head.

But that was all the same as before, and you told me what to do, so next time we'll see if I get around to doing it. But we've got time still and I'm sure you want to hear me blab for a little while longer so we can talk about my night three nights ago. It started nice and normal cause I was tired from running around all day looking for food. Each place I went to was bad-the lines were too long, I didn't like the servers, there were smells, that sort of thing. So I figured since I ate in the morning a lumberjack breakfast at some place which was good but too greasy I could skip more food and go right home. The TV was talking about some war or maybe a basketball player which is all they do these days, so I shut it off four times and sat down to smoke. My ciggie wouldn't light for the first few times on the matches—I hate that—so I had to light it again off the stove which was fine since it always works. But the TV was making that invisible noise that no one else hears. Maybe because momma gave me her good sense of hearing. So I unplugged it to make sure the war couldn't get in, and went to my room and lay down on the bed. Things were fine until around three the house started talking again-not about me this time but about the birds-tweet tweet tweet-all for the next two hours. I finally got up and put on my coat and went outside and walked around the building to see if they were right—you know, about the birds having a nest on the ledge of the front door. Course the sounds lied because there weren't no nest so I went back up stairs, said "ha ha ha" to the room and went to sleep. They always win their games, and I hate that.

And now you're trying to play this game and make me think I need those pills you keep telling me about. Everyone else tells me the same thing and so maybe you're all right, and all know what I should do. So fine, then. And your little buzzer rang telling me you got ten minutes left to wrap my life up in order and ship me out for export. And I tell you I don't need that cause I'm going to my car right now. It's dark and I'll go to the store unknown and get the prescription. Then I'll be off to happy town; just twist the lid and pour myself a glass of water and let your nails, the walls, the air, the birds and myself turn one nice manufactured beige. I'll do it and you'll win and I hate that.