The fast-food clerk scowled through large, dark-rimmed glasses. Her eyes were a peculiar shape, one slanting up, and the other down in a strange, cock-eyed expression. Her underbite was accentuated by hot pink lipstick glaring angrily out between fleshy bulldog cheeks that quivered like jello when she moved.
Her dark hair, gray at the temples, was tucked into her uniform ball cap in front and fanned out into a frizzy wad in the back. Black polyester pants were stretched tautly over her odd shape – she had one of those wondrous backsides that look like shelves stick out at either side below a relatively small waist. She moved with the speed of a snail and never looked anyone in the eyes.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Monday, June 18, 2007
Stray Affections
She preferred animals over humans.
Their uncomplicated acceptance and unquestioning loyalty put her at ease. Animals were easy to be around, to simply be, around. She could be her plain, boring self, not have to try to impress or please or be something interesting or loveable. She gave them food so they loved her; she was the provider so they looked to her. Simple as that.
What she provided wasn’t difficult to give, only basic nutrition and her physical presence. No intricate emotional support or meaningful words were necessary. In fact, the choice of words was glaringly indifferent to them, so long as the tone was soothing and familiar. Animals loved her for who she was, not who she wanted to be or wished she could be. Animals gave comfort, warmth and softness, and a sense of being needed, being trusted and included.
Humans, on the other hand, were the opposite of all this. To humans she had to prove herself, or else choose to be alone, not part of the group, an outsider. Which she usually did, as she didn’t have the energy or will to work that hard to fit in. She had decided long ago that anyone who didn’t care to be her friend simply because of who she was, were not worthy of being her friend anyway. So she spent most of her time alone.
Animals were low maintenance. This was another reason she liked them. It was also the reason why, when it was strictly necessary to interact with humans, she preferred boys. Girls were too complicated. Their noxious gossiping, scheming and teeming made her nauseous. Boys could be callous, but not cruel. At least boys were pretty straightforward and could be talked to about science and do lab experiments without squealing when dissecting things.
Always one for the underdog or -cat, she befriended those humans lowest on the social totem pole. She found them to be much more interesting company than the constantly clambering-towards-the-top-by-stepping-on-others cool kids.
Down in the lower social strata existed a fascinating blend of eccentrics, intellectuals, and outcasts. Humans of mottled appearance and eclectic intelligence appealed to her much more than the suave empty-headedness of the social royalty. Much like the scraggly dogs, cats, birds and rodents she surrounded herself with, her human acquaintances were not exactly show dogs – more like strays of un-plumbed potential.
Entered for this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt: Eccentricity.
Their uncomplicated acceptance and unquestioning loyalty put her at ease. Animals were easy to be around, to simply be, around. She could be her plain, boring self, not have to try to impress or please or be something interesting or loveable. She gave them food so they loved her; she was the provider so they looked to her. Simple as that.
What she provided wasn’t difficult to give, only basic nutrition and her physical presence. No intricate emotional support or meaningful words were necessary. In fact, the choice of words was glaringly indifferent to them, so long as the tone was soothing and familiar. Animals loved her for who she was, not who she wanted to be or wished she could be. Animals gave comfort, warmth and softness, and a sense of being needed, being trusted and included.
Humans, on the other hand, were the opposite of all this. To humans she had to prove herself, or else choose to be alone, not part of the group, an outsider. Which she usually did, as she didn’t have the energy or will to work that hard to fit in. She had decided long ago that anyone who didn’t care to be her friend simply because of who she was, were not worthy of being her friend anyway. So she spent most of her time alone.
Animals were low maintenance. This was another reason she liked them. It was also the reason why, when it was strictly necessary to interact with humans, she preferred boys. Girls were too complicated. Their noxious gossiping, scheming and teeming made her nauseous. Boys could be callous, but not cruel. At least boys were pretty straightforward and could be talked to about science and do lab experiments without squealing when dissecting things.
Always one for the underdog or -cat, she befriended those humans lowest on the social totem pole. She found them to be much more interesting company than the constantly clambering-towards-the-top-by-stepping-on-others cool kids.
Down in the lower social strata existed a fascinating blend of eccentrics, intellectuals, and outcasts. Humans of mottled appearance and eclectic intelligence appealed to her much more than the suave empty-headedness of the social royalty. Much like the scraggly dogs, cats, birds and rodents she surrounded herself with, her human acquaintances were not exactly show dogs – more like strays of un-plumbed potential.
Entered for this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt: Eccentricity.
(Wild)flowers
cool blue cornflowers
offset the harvest white wheat –
red-hot poppies nod
dirt and daisies –
delicate blend
of night and day
Haiku entry for One Deep Breath - Week 55
Photos courtesy of Wikipedia
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Strange Sounds - Part 4
Continued: M and I decided another cat might be good for her. I didn’t give it all that much thought until one day…
The Storm Cat
I first saw it under the storm cellar door. Evidently, it had gotten trapped there, and was meowing like crazy, just like Walli did when she was stuck in that wall.
It was about six months after I had rescued Walli, and when I got to work I heard the same sound of a kitten in distress. But the sound came from the outside this time, so when I was unable to immediately pinpoint the origin of the sound, I entered the office and went about my work thinking it was noting, a kitten calling for its momma from wherever she had hid her litter. I had seen a few strays around, but they were extremely aloof and adept at not being found.
When I left for lunch a little later, I heard the sound again. A few hours had passed and I realized this kitten must be trapped somewhere.
There was a small storm shelter on the property, a simple wood door in the ground. I realized I had never looked inside, and decided to check it out. A few concrete steps led down to a tiny square in the ground, occupied solely by an old folding chair.
And there on the top step, staring straight into my eyes was one of the strangest and most adorable little beings I had ever encountered. It was black with flecks of tan and red spattered across it body, as if Jack the Dripper had flicked his brushes at it. The tiny face was all eyes, wide open and perfectly round, staring in stunned fear.
Suddenly, the trance was broken and it took off running like a squirrel, the little legs moving faster than I thought possible. It ran straight into a chain-link fence, tumbled from the impact, got up, through the fence and vanished.
I just sat there for a few minutes, staring, vaguely wishing I had grabbed it while still on the stairs, but I couldn’t have caught it if I tried.
Continued…
The Storm Cat
I first saw it under the storm cellar door. Evidently, it had gotten trapped there, and was meowing like crazy, just like Walli did when she was stuck in that wall.
It was about six months after I had rescued Walli, and when I got to work I heard the same sound of a kitten in distress. But the sound came from the outside this time, so when I was unable to immediately pinpoint the origin of the sound, I entered the office and went about my work thinking it was noting, a kitten calling for its momma from wherever she had hid her litter. I had seen a few strays around, but they were extremely aloof and adept at not being found.
When I left for lunch a little later, I heard the sound again. A few hours had passed and I realized this kitten must be trapped somewhere.
There was a small storm shelter on the property, a simple wood door in the ground. I realized I had never looked inside, and decided to check it out. A few concrete steps led down to a tiny square in the ground, occupied solely by an old folding chair.
And there on the top step, staring straight into my eyes was one of the strangest and most adorable little beings I had ever encountered. It was black with flecks of tan and red spattered across it body, as if Jack the Dripper had flicked his brushes at it. The tiny face was all eyes, wide open and perfectly round, staring in stunned fear.
Suddenly, the trance was broken and it took off running like a squirrel, the little legs moving faster than I thought possible. It ran straight into a chain-link fence, tumbled from the impact, got up, through the fence and vanished.
I just sat there for a few minutes, staring, vaguely wishing I had grabbed it while still on the stairs, but I couldn’t have caught it if I tried.
Continued…
Haiku Practice
discovered haiku
small poems with big meaning –
on a rainy day
___
dark sky shatters
rips at the seams –
afterwards gold
___
one little kitten –
the two larger specimen
watch suspiciously
___
sleep finds me
resistance is futile –
going now
___
small poems with big meaning –
on a rainy day
___
dark sky shatters
rips at the seams –
afterwards gold
___
one little kitten –
the two larger specimen
watch suspiciously
___
sleep finds me
resistance is futile –
going now
___
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Office Doldrums
My very first attempts at haiku - thanks to Crafty Green Poet for helping me get started, and to One Deep Breath which celebrates its first birthday with a free theme this week!
thoughts scatter
in every direction -
fog settles
____________
low pressure clouds
humid air weighs heavily -
office dust swirls
thoughts scatter
in every direction -
fog settles
____________
low pressure clouds
humid air weighs heavily -
office dust swirls
Saturday, June 09, 2007
Tiny Tiger
This amazing creature has recently entered our home.
All In A Day
Spindly, shaky legs
walking tentatively
Mitted front paw swipes
at something and misses
Ball of fur tumbles,
falls, rolls over again
Tail straight up,
steady does it
Bends at white tip,
a flag atop a pole
Teeny rudder flag
erratic balance keeps
Face in dish,
paw on food
Slopping and sopping
and sneezing and snorting
Eating so intensely
in familiar feline fashion
Heavy, languid lids
blinking slower
Motor smoothly runs
Paws reach out placidly
Drunk from touch
a tiny tiger dreams
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Boobs and Eyeballs
I was discovered in the fourth grade. Not as a fashion model, that came later. Way later. I mean I was discovered by boys. Not the way you might think, though, the way other girls were discovered for sprouting boobs – bodies budding faster than an ornamental pear tree in spring. Nope. I was flatter than a board in that department, a bony, skinny twig of a girl, but I got these glasses that year which served a dual purpose – to see and be seen. (You can read more about that in How I Became a Nerd.)
Instead of sprouting boobs, I sprouted arms and legs longer than from here to the moon. In junior high, when the other girls stopped growing is when my growth spurt really took off. Trouble was, most of the boys hadn’t hit theirs yet. I was given plenty of attention from boys, only not the kind I wanted.
My body was being stretched like a rubber band, pulled in every direction by the force of mitosis. I used to want to be just like my Dad and as a kid I told everyone I wanted to be as tall as him, too. Considering Dad being 6’4” and all, I suddenly came to my senses and told God I didn’t mean that, and would he please stop making me grow now.
I tried eating tons of food to gain weight but it only seemed to make my legs longer and my non-existing curves flatter.
Even my eyeballs stretched. That is what the eye doctor said was the reason for my excessive myopia, or nearsightedness: my eyeballs were too long. Come on! I mean, give me a break already! The light beams which are supposed to meet on the retina to produce a focused image at the back of the eye meet too soon causing a blurry image on the retina. This in turn, causes a nearsighted person to be unable to see clearly at a distance. Only in my case, a distance means about two inches away from my face. Seriously. I take my contact lenses out and I can’t clearly see my hand in front of me, let alone my face in the mirror.
It is really quite fascinating. You think you’re a somewhat highly functioning individual, and get these sudden flashes of realization that if it weren’t for advances within optometry, you’d pretty much go through life as a visually impaired, legally blind blonde.
So here I was with my overdeveloped eyeballs and underdeveloped boobs, when one day, a girl in my class exclaimed:
“You’re so skinny you don’t even have a butt – only a hole in your back.”
Wow. A hole in your back. And you wonder why the boys aren’t swarming.
Instead of sprouting boobs, I sprouted arms and legs longer than from here to the moon. In junior high, when the other girls stopped growing is when my growth spurt really took off. Trouble was, most of the boys hadn’t hit theirs yet. I was given plenty of attention from boys, only not the kind I wanted.
My body was being stretched like a rubber band, pulled in every direction by the force of mitosis. I used to want to be just like my Dad and as a kid I told everyone I wanted to be as tall as him, too. Considering Dad being 6’4” and all, I suddenly came to my senses and told God I didn’t mean that, and would he please stop making me grow now.
I tried eating tons of food to gain weight but it only seemed to make my legs longer and my non-existing curves flatter.
Even my eyeballs stretched. That is what the eye doctor said was the reason for my excessive myopia, or nearsightedness: my eyeballs were too long. Come on! I mean, give me a break already! The light beams which are supposed to meet on the retina to produce a focused image at the back of the eye meet too soon causing a blurry image on the retina. This in turn, causes a nearsighted person to be unable to see clearly at a distance. Only in my case, a distance means about two inches away from my face. Seriously. I take my contact lenses out and I can’t clearly see my hand in front of me, let alone my face in the mirror.
It is really quite fascinating. You think you’re a somewhat highly functioning individual, and get these sudden flashes of realization that if it weren’t for advances within optometry, you’d pretty much go through life as a visually impaired, legally blind blonde.
So here I was with my overdeveloped eyeballs and underdeveloped boobs, when one day, a girl in my class exclaimed:
“You’re so skinny you don’t even have a butt – only a hole in your back.”
Wow. A hole in your back. And you wonder why the boys aren’t swarming.
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