I think sometimes that you are the most dangerous person in Amerika, yes with a K. Your face still turns reddish pink when I say that. Your supermodel blond hair runs all the way down to your housewife-after-six-kids hips, shedding like our cats Megatron and Pumpkin who are attention-whores. I love you, yet I despise you, because the way to a man's heart is his belly, and my gut is filled with all your concoctions: Indian chicken curry, cornbread casserole, holiday cookies, and that damn cider. Oh! what a wretch I am! The scarf you knitted last December now hides the hickie on my neck. I wish you wouldn't be so rough. I wish I could run away like Pumpkin did last June. I would get much farther than Carrollton Square. I imagine simply sliding smoothly out the section of the door I cut for the kitties. But, I, we, are stuck here in this vertigo. I pull in a deep breath, with the paprika and nutmeg smacking my nostrils, and pull off the red and yellow scarf. This is like my Auschwitz, your Eternal Treblinka. Wow, I am Fred Hampton in his Chi-Town bed. Oh my god, I am in love with a white MILF again.
Dude this is really good. I know we aren’t supposed to say good, but I just had to say that straight up. This character makes you want to read on, the spell began after about the third line. The attention to the detail of the character and how you built upon characteristic after characteristic I am seeing how I can improve my own work in this exercise. I do think that this can be fleshed out over a couple of more pages and turn into a short story piece, something like the taco Tuesday trigger but much more unflinching as I see your piece attempts to carry.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comments Damiyr!
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