xiii. girl anachronism ii
I am not so serious
this passion is a plagiarism
I might join your century
but only on a rare occasion
I was taken out before the labor pains set in
and now behold the world's worst accident
"The jury's still out on this one, folks," the Superego laughed into the gavel, as if it where a microphone. Nakuru sat in her chair, feeling helpless. Her mind hurt. Her body hurt.
When would the hurting stop?
"It's not true," she whispered, gritting her teeth. Then, louder - "It's not true!"
"Hmm?" The Superego asked, interested, its eyes locking on her from its place high upon the podium. "Did you say something?"
"This isn't true! It's a dream, or a hallucination!" Nakuru stood up, hands on her hips. "Nyah, you can't get me!"
"This is absurd, if anything," Hope muttered. The Id looked at it ferociously. Hope looked down at the Id, which was on its knees, looking all together like some sort of dog straining against its leash. A Napoleon complex: cute in dogs, dangerous in humans. Hope lazily bopped it on the head, saying, "Down, girl."
The Superego and Nakuru where engaged in a shouting contest, with the Ego fearfully looking onward from its place on the left of the Superego.
"I'm misplaced!" Nakuru was yelling.
Angrily, the Superego screamed back, "You're just some sort of accident! No one loves you!"
Nakuru smiled cutely. "Of course!" She raised her arms. "Behold the world's worst accident - "
I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM
Hope stood up. "Enough." The Superego fell silent, a paranoid look painted on its face, and, slowly, let its raised fist drop down. It looked like it knew what would happen.
Hope let a hand rest on the sword strapped to its waist. "Enough," it said again. "Enough."
Turning sharply, heels clicking, it began to speak.
"It is time," it said, with the look of an icy general. "Nakuru," it waved its hand, "come. And," it turned to the Superego, who was now trembling, "I think we've had enough of you." Its hand passed across the Superego's eyes, and the being went limp, falling into Hope's arms, who then dropped it to the gilt chair it had been sitting on earlier.
It turned to the Ego.
and you can tell
from the red in my eyes
and the bruises on my thighs
and the knots in my hair
and the bathtub full of flies
that I'm not right now at all
there I go again
pretending that I'll fall
The Ego nodded, and Hope wiped its closed eyes, gently letting the rag-doll figure of the thing lie delicately on the floor.
And suddenly, it was right next to Nakuru. "Are you ready?" it said evenly, hand on its sword.
Nakuru shrugged. "Am I ever?"
They turned, and strode out of the theater, letting the dark of the matinee fall like a curtain behind them.
don't call the doctors cause
they've seen it all before
they'll say
" just
let
her
crash
and
burn
she'll learn
the attention just encourages her."
The pair walked through the tarnished and dusty theater quickly and quietly. Nakuru matched the confident stride of Hope, but with the slightest bit more hesitation. She sighed, running her hands through her hair, watching the clouds of dust leap and fall and then, finally, lay back down.
At long last they managed to stop. It was at the end of a wide hallway, with large windows high on the walls letting old, sallow light fall creakily down onto the piled up rugs and ladders and paints and chairs. A porcelain door, delicately painted, stood before them.
Nakuru stared down at it uneasily. "You expect me to get through this?" she asked testily, pointing at the two feet (at best) tall door.
Hope drew a key from its belt, and, gently, slipped the dusty golden thing into the shimmering keyhole of the door. It swung open soundlessly, leaving a gaping dark hole.
A glass table stood near. It hopped towards them, eagerly showing off its contents. A small pillbox with a sign that, in delicate brush strokes that rivaled Eriol's, proclaimed in tiny letters EAT ME. A minuscule glass bottle next to it shouted DRINK ME.
Nakuru shook her head. "Now you're just shoddily ripping off Alice in Wonderland, aren't you? Too much Disney can do that, you know," she added.
Hope opened the box, revealing ten multicolored, pale pastel wafers. She popped one in her mouth, motioning for Nakuru to do the same.
Nakuru carefully bit into it, letting it melt on her tongue like a Communion wafer. She squeezed her eyes tightly, waiting for it - that shock, the feel of bones contracting, and flesh and blood and tendon slipping together...
Nothing happened.
She opened her eyes, disappointed. "Well?" she asked.
Silently, Hope made its way to the door. With each step, it fell another inch. Slowly, measure by measure, it was smaller then door. It walked in, leaving Nakuru alone, the flash of its sword the last thing Nakuru could see before the darkness swallowed it.
Suddenly, as if it were a vision (and maybe it was; or maybe just a hallucination), Nakuru could see in her mind's eye what would happen. Destruction, fire, brimstone. The end of the world.
Blindly, transfixed by the violent images, she grabbed at the bottle. She could feel her bones dissolving, transfiguring themselves into inches, centimeters, millimeters...She opened the bottle, and, remembering what happened to poor Alice, she drank a drop, returning to her normal height.
She turned sharply on her heels, elbow banging into the eager little table, breaking it (sorry! she whispered later), and ran, ran, ran down the musty hall.
It twisted and turned, closing in, becoming narrower and dimmer. Candles appeared, and gilt chairs with the stuffing ripped out of their velvet red-as-blood cushions turned up at the end of each hallway, road signs helping her along. The wind choked her hair.
and you can tell from the full-body cast
that you're sorry that you asked
that you did everything you could
(like any decent person would)
but I might be catching so don't touch
you'll start believing that you're immune to gravity
and stuff
don't get me wet because the bandages will all come off
and you can tell
from the smoke at the stake
that the current state is critical
well
it
is
the little things for instance:
in the time to break it
she could make up ten excuses
"please excuse her for the day
it's just the way the medication makes her"
Turning and turning and turning. The acrid smell of burnt rubber (probably from her shoes, she mused, she was running so fast).
The reminders:
TURN LEFT!
[arrow!]
STOP!
[eating animals!]
She felt dizzy.
But, like all fairy tales and all car stories, there was a light at the end of the tunnel, though God was not there. However, there was indeed a heavy oak door.
She reached for the brass knob and -
I don't necessarily
believe there is a cure for this
so I might join your century
but only as a doubtful guest:
I was too precarious
removed as a caesarian
behold the world's worst accident:
I AM THE GIRL ANACHRONISM!
Well. It's summer. Finally. And I feel I should inform you all...this is...the second to last chapter. The next will be the last. And then it'll just be a list of songs used, so I can enlighten you all. THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYBODY.
The song used for this is "Girl Anachronsim" by the Dresden Dolls, my favorite band. They are "carabet punk", and hail from Boston. Its just drums, piano, and vocals. And it rocks. I was going to see them live this summer in Lollapalooza, but of course that had to be canceled...grr.
Thanks so much, everyone!