Monday, July 17, 2006

Sissy's Kitchen

Blast from the past! I was looking for something else and I came across this wonderful girl that I had completely forgotten. She's amazing and I am sure I noticed her today so she could make her debut on the "inter-web". Take it away baby!

Calm tears fall from a face resigned as the formica countertop. Sissy hums softly as she arranges pieces on a large roasting platter. “Mummu said there’d be days like this, Mummu said Mummu said…” The top is mostly done; eyes skewered on toothpicks sit in stretched skinholes; there is a scent of bread baking, yeasty, female. She stitches slowly to avoid another accident; the first time she sewed her fingers to his heart. Ice clinks in a metal shaker full of blood and ambrosia. Her apron says kiss the cook with a winking eye embroidered on it. This time will be different she promised herself. Sissy finally knew the truth; with them Set and bent on his destruction, he couldn’t stay. But she would keep the garnish, they would never find this piece. At times it twitched insider her, almost as high as horns but not quite. Her bloodied hands reach in, open, pour a thick dollop of her own oils into the shaker, mix and and spritz, mix and spritz. His glazed body easily annointed as she could now turn separate bits under her hands. She had given the caterer specific directions. A box, a ramp, a van. She smoothes his hair. She says goodbye. As the van advances down the gangplank, Os dismembered rises, turnes to Sissy. “It’s best this way babe. I’ll watch your back from here.” They kiss goodbye; his lips are still raw and not quite set back in his skin. She blesses him silently and watches as he walks unsteadily away, her great wings expanding as she soares homeward. The rushing wind dries the tears and sweat on her face. Her small revenge still hidden from the party guests. The priests will never know the eunuch’s grace. Back at the butcherblock island, smirking as she works, the kitchen is cleaned and a box prepared for her trophy. It seemed small in the space provided as do so many things. Her counter cleaned, she moves to the garden and observes the Setting sun. Enraged he falls screaming and beating his fists on the ground. Sissy shakes her head; she ought to spank him, but somehow she didn’t think he’d get the message. Men.

2 comments:

orangelina said...

holy shit julia...again, i really like it, but i think i need to read it over a couple of times (like one of those movies you watch again to pick up all those details you missed the first time). the part about the baking bread being yeasty and female reminds me of my own fecundity.
so glad to read your words! keep them coming beautiful girl!

Freshwater Mermaid said...

you know it's funny you mention fecundity, because a lot of what i put down is due to my hysteria. I wonder if I can get Theford's Black Draught to advertise on my blog?

It's good for what ails ya. And if your livestock is melancholy, well just mix it in with their feed! Vets everywhere have vetted the elixer and I'll be handin' out rusty spoons from a handcart at the next tent revival.....this is turning into another post...hang on....