From the monthly archives:

June 2000

Flame

June 1, 2000

in Fiction

I broke up with Joey after he torched my car for the third time. He said
it was an accident, but its always an accident with him, you know? There’s
always so much a girl can take, always scrubbing soot off the windows, always
patching holes in your clothes and in the furniture, or covering the car seats
with towels and duct tape because of his little “accidents.” And the smells
he always leaves around him — those smells that make your sinuses hurt and
force your eyes closed. Its just too much to take.

I told him last Saturday, and he argued with me, like you’d expect him to.
You knew I was like this when we started dating, he said. You knew this was
part of the package. And that’s true. Joey was always kind of scary, but in
a fun way, him with all his matches and lighters, always playing with his
Zippo, clacking it open and shut against the side of his leg when he was bored.
And that habit he had of never lighting my cigarette with a single match.
Always a whole book of them, all the matches exploding up in a stink of sulfur.
He’d always take my cigarette from me, light it for me, lean into the flame
and then look through it and past it and smile, and when he did a little flame
would catch inside me, too. Every lit cigarette was a promise. And man, he
always made good on those promises.

Joey was fun that way, for a while. But it just gets too much, you know?

Once in the middle of the night he came to my house, pounded my door, come
on, come on, he got me out of bed, got me dressed, I was half asleep and didn’t
know what was going on. There’s a big fire up by the lumberyard, let’s go
watch, he finally explained to me as he bundled me up into my car, as we snuck
up the hill over the high school. The lumberyard itself was on fire, I could
see as I hunkered down on the grass with a blanket around me and Joey paced
excitedly in the light. I knew people who worked at that yard, and I tried
to explain this to Joey, but he just said yeah, whatever, and then the roof
fell in and the flames blew up into the air and he jumped up and whooped like
his team won the Superbowl or something. Like he didn’t even care.

I wondered after the fire burned down a little how it had started, and Joey
said that maybe they had been storing gasoline in the warehouse. I said I
couldn’t imagine why they would do that. Joey just laughed. Later on the newspapers
said that the fire had started because of cans of gasoline in the warehouse.

Joey’s come by the house a couple times since I ditched him. Called a couple
times. I figure I’ve said all I need to say, and that’s it, there doesn’t
need to be any more arguing. I thought he had gotten the hint a few days ago,
but the other night when I got home I thought I saw someone out by the basement
door. Went out with a flashlight but there was nothing there. Thought I smelled
something, but its fall, you know, and things always smell funny in the fall.

But I’m just here to tell you, just in case, that I’ve never stored any gasoline
in my basement.

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Bloodsucking Monsters

June 1, 2000

in Essays

No sooner did I get over the cold from hell that I got food poisoning from
hell. I got over the food poisoning from hell and went outside yesterday to
work in the garden.

Came inside last night and there was a BIG HORKING TICK on my arm. Not just
on my arm, but wedged, buried, wiggled down halfway INTO my arm, feasting
madly! AHHHH!!!!

He was a smart tick, too. He was nestled lovingly right in the crook of
my arm, right where I usually give blood. Right where I could see him in FULL
VIEW.

AHHHH!!!!

The book says to get a tick out, hold a lit cigarette against it until it
backs out. This is very useful advice in a household of nonsmokers. Lit matches
made the tick wiggle and try to go DEEPER.

AHHH!!!

We tried to drown the tick in salad oil. The tick wiggled. We tried to drown
the tick in alcohol. The tick didn’t budge. I thought to try the lit matches
again and then had the sense to realize that with oil and alcohol and fire
this probably wasn’t a good idea.

The tick had now stopped moving altogether. We poked at it with a pair of
tweezers. We thought we had killed it. But it didn’t want to come loose. “Just
pull it off,” said Eric. “I’m trying,” I said. The book said not to pull off
the tick because you might leave mouth parts behind in the wound. Mouth parts!
in the wound!

AAHHHH!!!

I finally just grimaced and yanked it off. “Did you get it all?” Eric asked.
“I dunno.” I said. We examined the tick. A tick is a horrible creature, a
prehistoric monster with eight legs (eight legs == bad). It looks menacing
even at an eighth of an inch. I would not know an intact tick if I saw one,
because, frankly, I see ticks, I run the other way. I left Eric to dispose
of the tick while I examined my arm and quivered in horror. I did not see
any mouth parts in there. I squoze my arm. It bled. That’s a good sign.

But this morning, AHHH!

I’ve been abused by (human) blood-takers in the past. Its not hard to take
blood from me, I have big arm veins that stick out and practically say, PUT
NEEDLE HERE. But people still manage to screw it up and hurt me. But man.
This one tiny tick has left my whole arm feeling like someone put it down
on a table and hammered on it for a while.

And I am now convinced I am going to get Lyme disease, because, lets face
it, my sickness record this month has not been too great.

I am never, ever going to go outside again.

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