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.
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.
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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