Oh boy. Seems I had to spend the last few days in a daze. The board got bored and cracked up. I spent many a broken dream and long hard road with sleepless nights putting putty in those seams. Now the bored board looks about four and a half months pregnant. On top of it all, the kid growls, produces a dry hiss and wolfs like a dog when she finishes. She's getting grouchier as she needs to knead-on me. No, I can't just walk away. If she doesn't knead, she barks at me. She's a confused cat, and no mistake. Since there's a duck about, she'll probably start quacking as well.
What can I say? The bored board will be bored no more. Since the board got pregnant, then had a partial abortion, there's only one penalty for such a crime; that's a hanging. After I plastered and painted that bored board, I killed it completely. Now it hangs for the entire world to see its shame.
**
One day as I was ice-skating down Main Street in my hometown, I saw Elvis Presley. He was dressed in a lovely ballroom dress like they wore in the Elizabethan era. He was singing 'Love Me Tender.' I was in my best ballerina suit of hot pink. I danced over to him and gave a bow.
After I curtsied, Elvis spoke to me. He said he was very parched and he could use a couple cold beers. He also said he'd be most grateful if I could also get some bubble gum, a yo-yo and a deck of cards.
Unfortunately, my ballerina suit didn't have any pockets, and I had no money. Elvis suggested that we trade clothes, so I dressed in his beautiful ballroom dress so I could stuff the items in the roomy skirt of the dress. It was most becoming. However, nothing looked more beautiful to the eyes than seeing Elvis in my hot pink ballerina suit with the delicate waistband and frilly skirt. The sight brought tears to my eyes and a desire to take Elvis in my arms right then. It was a great honor to have my ballerina outfit graced by such a lovely sight. It was a real turn on for me. Alas, I heard Elvis was more of a ladies man and would therefore probably reject me, so I swallowed my desires to make it with Elvis.
I'm a man myself, even if I am a transvestite. I have brown hair with deep blue eyes, which a lot of men have found irresistible.
After I was dressed in the finery Elvis gave me, I was ready to go shoplift the items Elvis requested. I'm sure no one could refuse the beautiful sight of Elvis Presley if they saw him as I did.
After I acquired the items, Elvis and I had a grand olde tyme playing and talking together. Unfortunately all good things must end some day, and our wonderful conversation was cut short when the police arrived with a paddy wagon to take me away.
Only a couple brief hours passed since I held up the local seven eleven store. It was my misfortune to have been a regular customer there, since few other stores will allow a transvestite like myself to shop in the store. So the cops found me easily and hauled me away from the lovely Elvis in my hot pink ballerina suit. As I was escorted into the paddy wagon to be hauled off to jail, I was moved to tears as Elvis sang 'Jailhouse Rock' just for me.
###
Sigh. I never was a poet. Mayhap I'm not crazy enough, but then again, if you care to ask the corpses lining my walk in freezer, they might tell you something a little different. OOPS! I wasn't supposed to let anyone know. You won't tell the cops on me, will you? I guess I'd better not tell you that my SS# is 999-56-2385. Then I wouldn't be able to move anywhere in the country without a cop tracking me down.
What?! Go out of the country? What about all those corpses? The meat'll go bad. You can't expect me to just pick up and leave. I've got a lot of good food invested in those human cadavers!
My dearest. Sweetest David,
For the longest tyme all I could do was think about you, and only you. You know how much I've always loved and cared about you.
You were gone so very long that well I had to give it all up as a lost cause. It was so god damn long. Surely you can see that, can't you? You took not just a weekend, not just 4 days, but a whole score. I couldn't tolerate it. I was lonely, and I lost control of myself. I just couldn't hold out any more, and two weeks is an eternity when you need a good fix.
As you know, John was around the entire tyme. He was a great comfort to me, and he was so sweet and understanding. I was touched by how much he cared. I don't think he was lying. Truly I don't.
I always knew you and John were close as brothers. You were always the best of friends. So when I did what I did, well, I was thinking of you there at first. Only at the beginning, you understand. John well, he's a much better lay than you ever were, and he made the transfer from yourself over to him as painless as possible. It's not that you're bad, Johnny's just a whole lot better.
John swore complete and undying love for me. I know he was always a playboy, and as phony as a marked deck of cards. He told me I changed him, though, and even though it's only been a couple of days, I believe him. So I thought I should tell you first before anyone else that John and I will be married tomorrow at noon before the firing squad.
John would like for you to be the best man. He didn't have a new wedding ring, so I will use a ring of one of the many other women he jilted. It's not new, and it has some dings in it from being thrown on hard surfaces when the other women would throw it back at Johnny, but it's the thought that counts.
Seems one of the other women was sworn into marriage, and when Johnny reneged, she got angry. She used some persuasion, gave the other women offers they couldn't refuse, and the legal system got enough dirt on my beloved Johnny to have him shot. The judge was sympathetic enough that he said as a kindness he can at least make sure I'm a happy widow.
Please try to understand. I did the best I could. Please forgive me for having fallen so badly on the wayside. I hope we can still be friends and lovers.
Love and Kisses,
Mortisha Addams
P.S. I think I'm pregnant.
What can I say? I told you I was sick, but you didn't believe me. Why didn't you believe me?! Must I do every little thing for you? Do I have to scrub out all the cobwebs in your brain again as well? You realize that once I do that, there will be no escape.
You can trust me, honest Injun. There's always a first tyme, and just because all the rest of my brain transplants went severely retarded, doesn't mean that'll happen to you.
It could be that I need to change the cleaning agent I use to clean the skulls out. I always used a toilet bowl cleaner myself, but lime-a-way can do just as good a job, if not better. I hope this tyme your skull will have the courtesy to not stink like a boiled seal that was half rotten already from baking in the sun. It's so annoying when skulls do that. It's enough to make me want to puke, because it gets so bad.
"Oh, I 'don't write enough' is it? Oh woe is me. It's not my fault! I tried, really. I, it's the husband's fault! He's got me working full tyme on the cracked up sign for the paralegal business. My hands are tied as it is. All remaining tyme is trying to keep the household together. And the kid doesn't help. She's demanding as it is, and when I'm busy, well, she gets so cranky when she needs to knead, and she won't knead properly unless it's on me. What can I do? IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" She broke down in sobs as her guts spilled out all over the sign, making a bloody mess. "NO! Now it's only worse as I'll have more of a mess to clean up! Is there no justice in this cruel world?" As she was moaning, growing weaker by the second, a spirit appeared.
"No, Heather. There is no justice, only procedure. It doesn't matter that you're bleeding to death. You either take the tyme to follow proper procedure, or you lose. If you die before being able to do so, then you were careless and very selfish, not to mention thoughtless if you leave any loved ones behind upon your mortal death.
"Now if you will kindly fill out these forms, I'll see what I can do." The spirit handed Heather a stack of legal papers four feet tall. "Proper procedure must be followed in order for you to win. There are no exceptions. I'll be back when you're finished." The spirit disappeared as it appeared-without trace.
Heather tried, but she couldn't get past the first sheet of paper, having bled to death. Her hands were growing stiffer with the pen in her hand as she tried to write.
As she died, the bone marrow started to grow cold, gradually allowing the cold to grow from the inside outward. Her body was discovered some hours later, after rigormortis sat in.