Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Chapter 5: Just Kill Yourself Now


Tabitha is sitting in bed next to me. She’s gluing cow faces onto the heads of Victoria’s Secret models.
“I’m bored,” she says. She’s wearing a tank top and an old pair of my whitey tighties, which I find sexy.
She isn’t in the mood – she already told me. But I keep trying.
“I could dress up as Edward Cullen and drink your blood.”
“Vampires are so vanilla.”
“You love it when I dress up as Edward Cullen.”
“I used to love it when you dressed up as Edward Cullen. Now I’m bored with it.”
She pinches her tongue between her lips and squints in concentration as she glues a cow face onto the head of a model that is wearing this sexy black thing called a merry widow.
Speaking of merry widows: “I read this story the other day about a woman who accidentally shot her husband playing some sex game called the Dirty Cowboy,” I say.
Tabitha perks up.
“What’s the Dirty Cowboy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Oh. Too bad.”
And she goes back to sorting through her pile of cow heads, looking for one just the right size and shape for this brunette who is turned away from the camera, covering her bare chest with her arms but letting her bare butt cheeks bubble out around her thong.
Tabitha is really good at pasting cow faces onto the heads of Victoria’s Secret models.
She’ll go through old issues of Farm Journal and Southern Livestock Standard and cut the cow heads out with an X-ACTO knife so there aren’t any sharp corners or rough edges. Then she sorts them into piles according to size and breed.
She’ll spend ten minutes sorting through her piles, looking for a cow head that is the right size and angle, so that when she pastes it on, you’d really think there is this sexy woman with a Hereford face peering out from beneath that splendid blonde aurora.
She’ll go back later and write things like Moo in a word bubble next to it.  

Here is what one of her cow head models looks like:


To see another one, see my Twitter feed. 
“You could play naughty librarian,” I say.

“You don’t really want me to play naughty librarian.”
“No, I don’t really.”
“You’re just throwing out anything kinky that comes to mind.”
“No, I’m not.”
She glances up from her pasting. Arches an eyebrow at me.
“What? I’m not …
“I’m not!
“Okay, yeah, I am.”
Tabitha scratches an itch on her thigh and goes back to pasting.
“Let’s just kill ourselves so we don’t have to bother thinking of things to talk about,” she says.
“Loser,” a bunny says.


1 comment:

  1. Love the playfulness of the dialogue/relationship between the two characters here, which is undercut by the entrance of the bunny at the end. As I was reading here, I kind of forgot about the rabbits, and then the reappearance at the end is quite sinister. Your chapters are little scenes which are little pictures in words. I like them a lot.

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