by Jane Etarie
And he just shakes his head and wipes his hands with some Purell, and says he wishes there was something he could do, but that he can't— the sale is final. He only works here, he says. He doesn't make the rules.
Whatever. I was done whining and begging and grovelling. I didn't need this shit. So I was all like, Fine. Here. Take it... take it you fucking Jew. Stick it in your queerhole for all I fucking care.
And I like throw my ginch at him and throw the egg at him and it bounces off his chest and lands like all vibrating on the counter. His reflexes are garbage and he looks all scared for his life. And I'm leaving, and I'm almost out the door, but then I change my mind and turn around and snatch my shit back, because I don't want them to have it— even if I hate it. I'd rather give it to some bum on the street. The cashier is backed up behind the counter with his hand over his throat.
And then I'm leaving for real, and I tell him that I'm going to burn the Brass Horn to the fucking ground— he'd be sorry.
Night Market
I had the best dream last night. It was like one of those dreams that you don't ever want to end. Like one of those dreams that you become aware that you're dreaming it, and you try to chase it and hang onto it, only it's like trying to catch a dandelion or a bubble.
We were in Paris, me and my daughter. Only it wasn't really Paris, it was more like Arabian Nights Persia, and like Venice, with all the canals. It was the evening, and the city looked like one of those fancy tea tins, all blue and silver and gold. The cresent moon was big and straight out of a children's story, and I was just waiting for a cow to jump over it.
I was pushing my daughter in a Prana Sean Jean. It had like fiber optics all over it and it kept changing colors— it was beautiful. There was one of those cute little monkeys sitting on top of it, wearing a red fez and vest and smoking out of the Prana's hookah and sharing it with my baby.
My daughter was just too cute. She looked like a little doll. Like one of those sexy Jon Bonet babies, only smaller. She was speaking French, and I understood her— but really I don't speak French and I hate the gross accent. I was calling her Natasha for some reason. Natasha or Tasha. She'd say something adorable and I'd laugh and say, Oh Natasha, and shake my head and smile.
She and the monkey wanted some chocolate eclairs, so we had to go to the Eiffel Tower. We had to get there before it closed, to catch the elevator to the moon. And then we'd sit on the patio at the Cafe Eclair de Lune, and have coffee and eclairs and red wine and smoke long cigarettes. And we would probably like discuss philosophy and fashion and intellectual shit, but none of us would give a damn.
And we're almost there, and then the monkey starts getting all excited. Like he's all screeching and hopping up and down and doing backflips. And he snatches this ticket that's printing out of the Prana, and he waves it around and says that we won. We won the lottery. And I'm like looking at it, and it's hard to see the numbers, but all the right ones are there. And I can't believe it— he's right— we won the lottery.
And I'm like thinking, Oh my god, this must be a dream... this must be a dream. But it's not, it's like real. Like I can't wake up. And the monkey's even pinching me and I can't wake up. I'm so happy— we're rich. And now Gwyneth is pushing the Prana, only it's not really Gwyneth, she's my grown daughter. And she's pushing her baby self in the buggy and talking to me in text talk, going like, OMG, i cnt bleev we 1 th lotRE! i'm th luckiest .eR in th wrld! LOL! i <3 u so mch!!! And we're all so excited and we're going to the Parisian Night Market to shop and celebrate.
And it's like the street opens up to a valley of shops and markets and lights below, and we step onto the world's biggest escalator and go down. And the Prana and the baby don't roll down the stairs because it's not real life, it's like a perfect dream. And everything was on sale, but nobody would take our money. No, they would tell us, your money is no good here— the lottery winner gets everything for free. And we get so many spices and shoes and rare bottles of gin and wine, it's too much to carry. Only then we get this bag that looks like a Russian nesting doll. You just like put all your shit in it and fold it together and close it and everything fits. It was like magic. We must have got like hundreds of shoes and bottles and phones and spices into that Russian doll. Like all for free. It was like the best day of my life.
New Year's
It was probably on Assbook already. Date rapes, gangbangs, whatever— for some reason these retards think it's ok to post that shit on there. They don't realize that they could wind up sucking cock in prison for a couple months. Like negotiating for their cafeteria lunch and shit.
This idiot, I guess he's underage, had a drink and started going on about how he could drink everybody under the table. I could drink all you assholes, all you bitches under the table, he says. He's saying this shit to these douchebag looking college guys. They look like football players or some shit, and they're laughing at him. He looks twelve, like Justin Beiber with his hair, and must weigh a buck ten. He keeps whipping his head to the side to get the hair out of his eyes.
And I don't know exactly what happened. It's not like I was staring at the kid the whole time. But he got a bottle of vodka from somewhere and chugged it. It's like a big bottle, and I saw him chug over half of it. These idiots were all cheering and laughing. Some morons were smiling, looking into their phones, filming it. And about twenty minutes, half hour later, Beiber was lying on the hardwood floor, swimming in his puke.
It was huge puddle. It was fucking gross. It was like all over his clothes and all in his hair. And I saw him lift his head up, and he whipped his face to the side. Like to get the hair out of his eyes one last time, and then his face fell back in his puke. He looked dead.
So some shithead got like a broom and a towel and tried to clean up the mess. And the football players were all posing behind Beiber, like for a group photo. These retards were all going to jail if something happened to this kid. I stayed way in the background, so my face wouldn't wind up on their Assbook profiles for the cops to look at. I didn't need to be dragged into this bullshit. I crashed this party. I didn't know these people.
Finally some girl, and probably her boyfriend, grabbed the half dead kid and dragged him into the shitter. And when I walked by later, they had him in the tub. He was out cold. Four people were all around him, taking care of him. The one girl was towelling his face. And then some guy— maybe a doctor? I don't know— started smacking him and was all like, Hey... hey... can you hear me? Wake up... wake up... And then he puts his pinkies in his mouth and whistles loud into Beiber's ear, and smacks him in the face again.
All the drama made me drink faster. I still had a bottle in my bag, but I went to the kitchen to get a free one. So I poured myself another drink, and then I heard someone behind me. She's all like, Oh, hey... Bella, right? So I turn to see who it is, and I'm all like, Oh, heeey... how's it going? Like I'm excited to see her, even though I don't know who the hell she is. I'm stunned for a few seconds, and then she says we met here before, at the costume party. Natasha. The girl with the alien. And I see her pregnant gut and I'm all like, Oh of course— ya ya, I remember you— I barely recognized you without the blood... I actually wanted to call you, but I lost your card. Wow. What are the odds? And then I lie and tell her my name is Samantha.
So Natasha looks at the counter, and at all the drinks on it, and she smiles, like she's sharing a secret with me, and is all like, Man... I cannot wait to have a glass of wine...
And I'm all like, Oh, I know, I know... me too! I could strangle somebody for a drink right now... oh well. And then I take a sip of my vodka and laugh at her like we're best friends.
She asks if I'm here with my boyfriend. I tell her he's already left, got called into work— it gets crazy around the ER at this time of the year. But Robert really was here and really did leave. I guess this girl that Tyler was after was acting all slutty and hanging off some other dude. That put him in a shitty mood and he didn't want to hang around. So Robert asks if he could go too,
if I would mind. They wanted to go to the bar— he'd catch up with me later, he says. It was fine by me. Easier to drink when he's not around.
Natasha's there by herself too. Her ex lives in Australia, doesn't even know she's pregnant. It's a long story. And these are her cousin Zoey's friends— she doesn't really know anyone here. Zoey hooked up with some guy a couple of hours ago and she hasn't seen her since. So much for taking care of her, she says. And then she's all like, Oh well, we can ring in the new year together.
And we're talking, and having a good conversation, and I'm actually starting to like this girl. It was like she was so nice, like I didn't even feel jealous of her. But god, she was beautiful, and at eight months she hardly looked it. Why the hell did I get this fat? And then the music turns down, and people start leaving, pouring out of there real quick.
I guess Beiber was getting worse. Like he stopped breathing for minute and somebody finally called an ambulance. You could hear a chick running around, like all shrieking, I called an ambulance! I called an ambulance! Everybody... the cops are gonna be here... this kid needs an ambulance... I called an ambulance!
So we're taking off. Natasha gives me her card again and writes her private cell number on the back, and tells me to give her a call this week. Maybe Tuesday, Wednesday? We have to go for tea, she says. I tell her for sure. And that I'll be getting a new number this week— I'll give it to her then.
You never saw people clear out of a party so fast. It wasn't even midnight yet. They were pouring out of there like some guy in a turban dropped off a suitcase. Some package with an alarm clock, wires, and AIDS that was going to blow up at midnight. The place was almost empty by the time I got out of there. And I'm not sure, but I think the kid died.
Shocker
They really messed this one up. I mean, not completely, not entirely, but in the end it, this was just not what I expected.
It was my last day at work, and the girls threw me a big going away party. I think it was even better than Frona's. They only surprised her after work with a cake and luggage and some other travel shit and we all went out drinking. With my party, they actually decorated the office at lunch while I was out. With like baby blue and pink balloons. There was a cut-out stork and streamers and everything, it was so nice. They even closed the office for half the day, so it was like a paid staff party.
And it was a Friday afternoon, so management even bought some booze and offered cab rides home for everyone. There was beer and wine and a couple of punch bowls. One was for the drivers and the pregnant people, the other was for the drinkers. Not even Nancy noticed I was drinking from the spiked bowl.
It was a pretty laid back party, and people were doing the usual party shit. Laughing, talking shop, talking stupid shit about work, picking scraps from the meat tray like a bunch of drunk animals. Like a pack of alcoholic hyenas. Nobody was making out yet, but it was early, and most of the people I work with are fucking ugly anyways.
So after a while, Alex, one of our managers, starts clinking his glass with a knife to get everyone's attention, like he's making some kind of an announcement. He starts off with some lame joke I didn't hear or can't remember and a few people laugh. And then he's gets more serious, like reflective. Like about how they were sorry they didn't have the budget to throw a proper New Year's party this year. Something about the recession. Tough economic times. How it was a challenging year for Petrus Cheong and Associates Global. How we lost a lot of clients. How he hopes that this little party will show the company's and management's appreciation. And I'm ready to throw the guy a fucking violin, but then he turns the attention to me.
He says some nice things about me— which is weird— because I don't really know him and I don't think we've ever spoken to each other. But it was kind of sweet anyways. And it probably looks like I'm blushing, like I'm embarrassed by all the attention, but it's only the booze. Then he goes on about a couple of baby pools, like a birthday pool, and another one for how much the baby is going to weigh. And now I'm really interested because they're going to give me half the money. And Alex cracks another joke, which I didn't hear because I'm still thinking about the money but laugh at anyways, and then he calls Kelly up to talk.
You can tell Kelly used to be a hottie back when she was like in her twenties. Like she was probably a slut, getting lots of abortions and shit. But now she was like forty, and married, and more of a cougar I guess. She looks like she'd cheat on her husband if she had a few drinks.
Anyways, I like Kelly as far as work people go. She's popular around the office. Her speech is funnier, like less formal than Dave's. She's getting more laughs, saying shit like she'll hardly notice I'm gone because I'm only there maybe once a week, asking if she can bet on twins for the baby pool— I'm so fucking fat, shit like that. And then she goes on about how all I ever talk about is this Prana buggy, like I own shares in it— and then my heart stops. Seriously, I thought I was going to have a jammer. Kelly says she hopes I appreciate how hard it was to find one in guacamole, and then asks me to come over and join her.
So I go up to Kelly and she hugs me and hands me a card, and everyone's like clapping. And then Jen pushes the buggy in from the door behind us, and I see it and my jaw drops. I can tell right away that they fucked this one up.
The Prana Green Tara Serenity.
I mean, you can’t call it a budget or ghetto model— it’s a Prana. But seriously, I would've rather they'd gone to Wal-Mart and gotten their exclusive Prana Pink Chocolate Shocker 2P-1S. Like for cheaper even. At least I could jog with that one. This was like what an old woman would push around. Like a walker. I would look like some fucking grandma shitting her diapers, having a stroke and hanging off her walker. Showing off her dull old baby to her dull old friends. Doing it all in slow motion.
How did this happen? Really? That... that thing... It's just... it’s so not me. It’s just so not me. This was all just so not fair.
I faked like I loved it, It’s sooo nice! Oh my god! I can’t wait to use it! How did you know this is what I wanted? I was hugging everybody. Oh my god you are all way too nice. I’m so sad I’ll be gone for so long, I'm going to miss you all so much... But really I just want to cry. I did start crying, but it looked like happy tears. That buggy was fucking garbage. It looked garbage hell. And it’s not like I'm crazy, it's not like I thought that they were trying to be nasty. I mean, everybody likes me, but fuck, they messed this one up. For real— how the hell do you get Serenity mixed up with Che Revolution?
I pulled myself some more punch. I ate a piece of cake. I ate three pieces of cake, and then I ate another before I left. It was a beautiful cake. It looked like a sleeping baby, the detail was amazing, and the actual cake was a rich red velvet torte. They had it done up at the Baker's Dozen on Kordova— which in my opinion makes the best honey glazed donuts in town. At least they didn’t fuck that up.
OBO
FOR SALE
Prana Green Tara Serenity.
Brand new, never used.
Looks sharp. Guacamole.
No bedbugs.
Asking $600 OBO
Willing to trade/pay extra for Prana Red Tara Che Revolution or similar model.
New only, please.
Orbit Beach
Work was for suckers. For real. Once I had my baby I was seriously going to start looking at other ways to make money. My first day of freedom felt awesome. The city looked different. The people weren't as ugly. It was like being on holidays, like in some foreign country. Or at least what I imagined it would feel like to be in another country. It was like I was alive. Energized. I had all sorts of motivation. The world felt big and new. Like right after you quit school. When the possibilities are endless and it feels like life is just starting. Like you have all the time in the world. It felt like I was on the verge. Like on the verge of better things, of exciting times.
I started my first day off in the park, sitting on a bench. It was a perfect winter morning. Like sunny, not too cold. Everything
sparkled. I had my thermos of coffee and was enjoying a cigarette. And there was a bottle of whisky in my handbag, which I kept adding to my coffee. I brought some bread, like for the birds. I felt bad for them, with the cold and all. Seriously, I could get used to this life of leisure. I thought maybe I'd do this somewhere in the Mediterranean in a few months. But I don't know, a kid changes everything.
There was like a plaque on my bench. It was dedicated to Dr. Xiang (Ernie) Hu. I wondered if he was like a for real doctor, or maybe a master of chi doctor— like prescribed bear gall bladder and tiger penis to his patients. Maybe I'd google it if I remembered. It says he enjoyed spending weekends here with his dog, walking along the beach. And for a few seconds, I was like horribly depressed. You live your whole life, work hard, try to be a good person, create, I guess, like a legacy, all so you can... get your name put on some bench. To get shit on by birds. To get shit on by some drunken bums.
But it was a nice view, I thought. I could sit here all day and look at the water, the bridge, the skyline. And it must have been gorgeous at sunset when it was all like pink and orange. You could do worse, I guess. But whatever, I was too buzzed and medicated to get bummed out by some dumb bullshit like a bench anyways.
I saw the lighthouse out in the bay. There was like a couple of them. But the one I was looking at, I swear that when I was a kid, I walked out to it. Maybe I didn't. Maybe it was like all a dream, or I like saw it on the news, but I sort of remember it as a field trip or some shit. Some trip that my class took when I was like six or seven. The yellow school bus. My pink gum boots. The starfish and seashells.
It only happens like maybe once every year or two, when the tide is at its lowest. There's this land bridge, like a crescent, and you can walk out to the light house, like for real. Like you don't even need a boat. There's a lot of people when it happens. They start from one end of the beach, go to the lighthouse, and end up on the other end of the beach. It was on the news sometimes even.
