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Achieving Polite Nirvana/ Room Wanted

Achieving Polite Nirvana/ Room Wanted

About an hour ago I sat down in front of the Bizarro Factory and plugged my iPod into my ears to listen to some mind-moving tunes. See, this usually drifts me one thousand doorways away where my flesh is gone, but I forgot to lock the doorway of my apartment.

A few moments into the drifting, I heard a thump during a song with no percussion. Pulling the headphones out of my ears, I swiveled around to see that a man and woman had entered my apartment. She was wrapped in black cellophane and wore a rainbow baseball cap. He was dressed in a fine silk suit, but it was on backwards. I could tell they were angry with one another, so I hesitated. It's important to be aware of others' feelings.

He switched on the corner lamp by the door and plunged an accusatory finger into her breastbone. "!regoR ni depparw eb ot tiaw ouY !thginot hguone ton si citsalP"

"Oh, that trick is getting old, Bob! The party's over! Stop talking backwards! I want nothing to do with Roger. He thinks he's an amphibian."

I spoke up. "Excuse me, can I he . . ."

The woman glared at me. "Can't you see we're having a discussion!"

Bob's stare returned me to my seat. "How rude!" he said. "Lock the door, Marjory, and come sit down on the couch." Marjory bolted shut my door and followed Bob to my amputated sofa. They squabbled for a bit, and I tried so hard to zone out their conversation, but it was loud and juicy and I caught things like "giraffe", "rubber-band ball", "scientific calculator" and "Peter Travers." Once the squabbling softened into polite discussion, I offered them some Halloween chocolate I never gave away.

"You want some chocolate? I don't like it myself."

Marjory looked at me like I was a BM that she'd forgotten to flush days ago. "Chocolate makes us agreeable. No thanks," she said. "Do you have any wine?"

"Of course! I have a nice Shiraz made in Wisconsin! Do you want glasses with or without stems?"

"With," said Marjory.

"Without," said Bob.

I poured the wine and gave them the bottle, then returned to the Bizarro Factory and pretended to be invisible. Not thirty minutes went by before they were sloshy and all over each other.

"Come on love, let's go to bed," said Marjory. "It's time to make a baby, and there's enough room here for a little one."

Bob sucked in a growl. "!yletulosbA" He rose and picked her up, carrying her backwards into my bedroom. The door slammed shut. There were whispers and low laughter for a few minutes, then the door opened.

"Excuse me," said Marjory. "I think you should go. You've been here long enough as it is."

"But all my clothes are in that room," I said.

She looked me up and down. "What you've got on now looks pretty warm." She shut the door.

Luckily I have another sweater on a chair out here. It is the season of giving, right?

And I really like to walk.

Read more: http://www.myspace.com/filamentroad/blog#ixzz0zYcAcWfH

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