I can’t speak for myself. That person, (she) scares the shit outta me. Mary’s brain is on the couch with what she wants to say. The words exiting her mouth are quite different. This is not challenging. She’s done this her entire life. It’s her way of surviving (herself). Mary’s way. She calls the technique, Mary’s bullshit. Why the hell did he buy this god awful olive couch that sticks to your ass skin? Yes, I know who chose this leather madness and she doesn’t have his last name (Doctor Liar Ass tell your fuckin’ wife why she didn’t pick out the couch). Cheater! Is what Mary wants to say. That’s right, Doc. I saw you with the brunette. Wanna talk about it?
Mary’s forearm goes to her forehead on queue. She sucks wind and gets a convincing concave thing going in her rib cage. The Doc’s legs cross mechanically. Sitting exactly four feet, he leans in moving those two hearing ears closer. His shoes are perfect, always, like the new brunette. Mary stares at him from the corner of her better eye. Undeniably handsome. A good looking man. He is, the Doc. Her position softens a bit on the whole brunette thing. Must be difficult being so handsome and money pretty. Mary knows women. Nice women. And then there are the women who fall into all columns in between each category covering English slang. What Mary’s doing now is AVOIDANCE. Doc is going to catch her.
Okay Doc, this was my dream. Inside, Mary’s brain is laughing. How can anyone be so good at this? Easy. That’s what it is. She could probably nail the Doc if she wanted to. She is not unattractive. Has decent parts and pouted lips–always in season according to Cosmo. Easy, Mary goes the little voice. The same little voice drowning in the brain. “Mary, your fingers are floundering. Focus and speak.” OOO, c’mon Mary, you let the Doc get a leg up and now he’s leaning in closer with his perfect shoes most likely thinking where he will bang his brunette later while keeping his pants from wrinkling so the wife doesn’t find out.
Mary gives a little moan. (Bet he liked the sound of that) is what she wants to say. The words exiting are quite different. Mary stifles a laugh. She needs to make sure this doesn’t start out like one of those jokes though the one with Raquel Welch is funny (offensive to women in column A). Mary’s Dream:
I’m standing with Jesus. Everything is white except there is a big red cross. No Doc, not the Red Cross. Just a big, old Christian shaped thing. Me and Jesus are both standing in front of it. Staring up. It’s looming like a skyscraper without building material. (Mary sees the Doc leaning in more. (A.) He wants her (B.) He’s interested in this bullshit). “Mary, Who does Jesus look like?” Not important, Doc is it. “Symbols, Mary. You remember our last meeting. We discussed the relevance of seeing familiar faces in others, thus allowing us to manufacture a way to communicate without saying anything. Except, what we’re really doing is AVOIDANCE.” OOO, again Mary the Doc is rallying to derail your play. Don’t let him. Give him something. Okay Doc, you’re right. Jesus looks like my Uncle on my mother’s side twice removed. Mary continues. So me and Jesus are standing in front of this giant red cross. He slowly turns to me and says, “Mary, when you see a cross in the road take it.” Then everything changes. Jesus evaporates and me and the red cross are spinning, falling, twisting, down, down–picture Jimmy Stewart, Vertigo. I open my eyes and I’m in Hell with Satan. He’s standing exactly the same way Jesus was. Everything is red, cause it’s Hell, Doc but the giant cross is white. The devil turns to me and says, “Mary, when you see a cross in the road take it.”
WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN, Doc…
Mary’s sticky ass slides on the leather couch. It makes an awful sound.
This guy created last year while playing with Tombow markers.
Sending kids into a world growing more explosive…praying am I…