Site icon Julie Means Kane – Author


Uffft!  That feels better.  Let me just cling here and get my bearings.  I can tell you, life in the dirty water inside that old tire isn’t exactly the Blue Lagoon.  And the food – don’t even ask me about sucking down the algae.  And breaking out of that pupal case – I’ve worn SPANX that were less confining. 

I’m feeling a sort of pull towards that enormous pink sausage in the hammock – the warm from it just colors the air around it.  It’s hard to interpret what I’m seeing, but it’s definitely moving.  Wait – is that a hand, a giant hand?  Damned if it isn’t, and it’s attached to something – wait, I can see it, hundreds of little images of … David!  It’s David, my husband, the man I promised to love until death.  Which I did.  And he’s in my hammock, in my garden.  With a beer.  Listening to a ball game, while the grass grows up all around him and the water collects in that old tire.  I told him to get rid of it.  It’s ugly, I said, we look like we live on Tobacco Road, I said.  It’ll breed mosquitoes, I said. 

Still, that bald head is strangely attractive.  Most of the warm is coming from there –I don’t know why.  It’s certainly not the heat of mental exertion.  He never could hold his own in a good argument, just fell back on waving his arms and calling names.  Look, he’s doing that now!  This is really annoying.  Just when I get close, he starts flapping those ham hands around, creating air turbulence.  It’s not like I have two pairs of wings.  I’m not a damned dragonfly.  I can’t turn on a dime, you know. 

Bloodsucker, he used to call me.  Never satisfied, he said.  Just because he brought home the paycheck.  He didn’t expect me to go around in rags, did he?  Or live in a shack.  The neighbors had a pool, so why couldn’t we have a hot tub? 

Aah, he’s settled back down.  I think he’s asleep.  Now if I just set down here, lightly, lightly.  I can push my proboscis right through his scalp, sl-o-o-wly.  Now a little spit – seems like the right thing to do – and drink.  Drink deep, fill up.  Oops – I think I just peed on his head.  In one end and out the other, he used to say.


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