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By Misti Lake Submitted by Misti Date: 2001 Aug 11 Comment on this Work [[2001.08.11.14.05.17442]] |
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Electric with eBuLLieNce, Caramel ignored her runny nose and continued to paint the bathroom wall with lavender paint. As she painted, Caramel sang along with the Queen cd that was blasting from her stereo in the bedroom she shared with Buick. "Don't try suicide, you're just gonna hate it!" Caramel sang, shaking her hips. "NO!" Buick screamed from the den. "Oh, shit," Caramel muttered, dripping a glob of paint on her right bare foot. Suddenly, Buick was standing in the doorway wearing an ominous expression on his average white face. "What in the hell are you doing?" "Hey, honey. I wanted to brighten the bathroom a bit. I bought the Queen cd at a pawnshop. It was only five bucks. I tolerate your Mahler and Megadeth." "I come home to a stupid b-song and lavender paint glopped all over a wall that we are renting. We've lived here four months and the dude who fixes things still hasn't fixed our leaky faucets. We won't get our deposit back, I hope you know." "Fuck the deposit! I'm sick of staring at ugly walls! I feel like I'm in prison! I hate it!" "I don't guess you've prepared a meal for us to eat tonight." "There's a bowl of stale pretzels on the table, if the cockroaches haven't carried it away by now." With that, Caramel threw down the paintbrush and brushed past Buick on her way to the balcony. She opened the sliding glass door and sat down in one of the green plastic chairs. The sky was purple. Stars were beginning to appear and the moon was a fat pumpkin. "Cool, a harvest moon. My fave," Caramel murmured with a sigh. Buick sat down beside Caramel in the other green plastic chair. "I just don't understand you sometimes. You're out of work so what do you do? You certainly don't hit the pavement. That's too mundane. No. You buy a cd and paint the bathroom wall," Buick said. "You know I'm intensely creative. That's my burden," Caramel said. She swatted away a mosquito and lit a cigar. "We can't go on living like this." "That's an Eddie Rabbit song." "Leave Eddie Rabbit out of this, for god's sake. Stick to the subject. We're one paycheck away from the welfare line." "I'll find a job tomorrow. Sonic is still hiring." "Oh, wonderful. That's what you want to do with your life? Skate up to cars in shorts that show your ass cheeks and give people hot dogs and hamburgers for minimum wage? I love you. But you have got to get a grip." Caramel looked down at her brown moccasins. She studied them intently, avoiding Buick's penetrating hazel eyes. "My people never had to work. They could create all day long and dance deep into the night. To them, creation was holy. Dancing released their holiness. The land was still pure, the water was still not peed in." "Don't start that again. Yes, I'm sure the Cherokee were lovely people. I'm sure it really rocked doing nothing all day long. But this is the 21st century. The old ways have died a hard death. What do you mean, 'your' people? You've never even stepped foot on a reservation." "Stop talking to me like that. Take a laxative. You're full of shit." Caramel stood up and went back inside the apartment. She sat on the couch in the darkness and puffed away on her Cuban cigar. Buick sat down beside her. "God, I can't get rid of you. Leave me alone!" "We've got to talk. First of all, we agreed no smoking inside the apartment. It'll take a month to get rid of that stench." "You are getting on my last nerve. I never thought I'd sleep with a parole officer and high school principal and priest all rolled into one. Go get drunk or something." "I can't believe you. You talk to me like I'm some jerk you just met in a bar. You don't talk to me like I'm the person you love the most." "I need a pink balloon. I need a black Lab pup. But there's no helium. No backyard. I'm stuck. This is no kind of life." "It could be worse. You could be in a wheelchair." "Why would I be in a wheelchair?" "Because a bull shark ate your legs. Because you were born with a crippling illness. I don't know. The point is...you've got it pretty good but you're pissing it all away. You need to wake up and smell the bullshit, darlin'." "Go on and walk away. Just like Rhett Butler. I know you don't give a damn." "I wish I didn't give a damn." A long hot bubblebath was all it took to get the paint off Caramel's right foot... |