Anne

At Jenny’s you get drunk, but you get drunk with her not me.  I have been reformed into that prick of a lover we both need me to be.  I am the one.  The two of you are quiet in the kitchen.  I shout that I am not doing a
threesome and both of you laugh.  There is shit on TV.  Jenny is dating this guy she keeps calling Hugh with emphasis and now you are doing it and I am pretty sure it is because you both think the guy looks like Hugh Jackman.  Really she is hard on the ears and I am pretty sure she is struggling to get this guy to keep fucking her.  She is just so high pitched and monotone and loud.  I stopped thinking of her as an ass after about five minutes.  We were at some fucking coffee place and she worked there and you would go there to say hi, not get coffee and that is like another thing wrong and different about you.  She was outside smoking with you and I swear that kid she was working with must have been real stupid because he thought she would fuck him if he let her do whatever she wanted and like, as if she wouldn’t have done whatever she wanted if he was a dick.  Anyway we are out side and I am fake nice cause I haven’t met her before and I see her and I am looking at how well her ass comes together and then they come out side and I smile and all that shit and I swear it was like the acid just kicked in cause there was this nagging, this unreachable, directly unnoticeable concern and then whoosh there it was like, HEY!  You are so fucking loud you crazy Bitch! only it comes out, What the fuck is wrong with your voice?  and you hit me cause you know but poor stupid Jenny doesn’t know or care and smiles and says what? then goes back to talking and I am like, Wholly fucking shit are you for real? and she wants to know what I am talking about and I get up and then run and just to be a fucker I put my hands over my ears and yell, Fucking please god, please fucking kill her! and I run for a block and I can’t hear her and then I walk and there is a 711 and I hate this one, and nothing is ever new here, and you can’t get anything but the same old shit, and I am taking about 17th st. now not just 711 and so I get you parliaments but they don’t carry mine cause I am too fucking cool for all of this bullshit and you don’t come by and I mark it as a sign our relationship has advanced to some new autonomous level.  I walk home but not like a hustle which is what I want so I don’t and you pulled over some twenty minutes later and I get in and you don’t say anything and I am trying to use psychic abilities to detect tension and shit and then you say, Jenny thinks your cute, and there is a party or something and I imagine breaking a bottle over her head, Jenny’s head, like full fucking bottles and I am satisfied with the heavy crash and crunching of glass and beer, bloody in that overly oxygenated head blood way with her hair all creatively wet and matty like there is egg in it, but it is blood and her confusion and my zealous, violent damage, Fuck yeah!  I say and in my mind now I am moving on to magnums and then punch bowels and throwing her rag doll like through glass fucking tables and thunderous smashing and crashing and shit and glass fucking swimming pools now fly through some breathable deep space where both she and they collide head first and, Fucking rad babe!  Party!  I scream and you go, shut up you dork, and I lean way out the window and scream, Party! like I am the toga party villain and you are pulling on me to get back into the car and people look and I look at them like I have never looked at anyone before and I command them to party like I have a gun in my hand, and it is party, or a bullet from my gun and they have run out of second chances.  Jesus Christ, your saying to me and I come back in and I am laughing and you ask me what’s wrong and if I am really crying and I say, Ill make you cry and you say, shut up, and ask me what’s wrong and I say, I just want to fucking party, mom, and you hit me and were near home and I turn off and you turn off and when we are out of the car I slapped your ass and then I am here again, I am here in that fucking living room with you and Jenny drinking in the kitchen and I check my face to see if I am bleeding.  I get up and go into the kitchen and you say, babe, and reach out and grab my belt and pull me over and I say watch the cock and you growl in the way only drunk girls growl and Jenny is placid like a fucking cow and I ask you if there is blood coming out of my ears and you says no like I am a baby and it is not right to get horny when I hear that but I do and I want to sit on your lap but you’re not a big girl so I kneel in front of you and say, Babe, my ears, check’em.  And you do and you find unreal shit in my crevices, ears included, and I pull away and you ask what happened and I don’t tell you that I just realized Jenny’s voice doesn’t bug me anymore.  I just put my face on your boobs and let you push me away and look at Jenny with shock.  You hate your boobs.  You think they are small but they are perfect and I am calmer now and I think, with horror, with fascination, that no matter what I do in my mind, as Jenny’s barbie body is cavorted through hard vacuum into engineering impossibilities of bodies of water contained in breakable glass, that she, Jenny, is un fuckable, uninteresting.  But her ass could sell cars without wheels!  As she flies through my mind I wonder at the nothing I feel towards her stiff legs and plastic hair careening through space, head first, breaking these liquid filled geodes without an expression on her face, no words, no mimic of the voice that hurts my head so much, just silence, open eyes, no smile, mouth is closed, sexless, bloodied, unfazed.

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