true tales from the gates of the underworld


The Painted Lady// Herbert
March 14, 2012, 1:15 pm
Filed under: Life | Tags: , ,

She stands over six feet tall, even taller in her high heels. Larger than life in every way, loud, bright, an open book. Her make up is too bright, too much. Her voice, throaty from fourty-a-day for twenty years, drowns out almost everything when she speaks.
Even her nickname. Meow-meow Snowbubbles.
She wears her heart on her sleeve, with tell her story to anyone who will listen, only seeking to make new friends.
Her body is aching to bear a child, her heart is aching to give her love, but the cancer has stolen the chance from her.

Instead, she carries a guinea pig in her pocket, producing it at every opportunity.
“Would you like to stroke my guinea pig?”, she asks innocently.

I once made her day just by showing how to turn off her frozen phone.
She called me her very clever angel.

You wouldn’t think that her frame, her clumsy demeanor hides a Judo blackbelt. And a devout Born Again Christian.
Or in the words of The Writer: “This Jesus loving hamster freak can kick your arse, so fuck off!”

————————————–

It almost seems like he has been there forever. Normally, his kind isn’t accepted around these parts, but he has become part of the inventory.
Moved himself in some few months ago, and keeps himself to himself to himself, barely noticeable.
Sometimes we will say “Look, Herbert is still alive.”
Everyone is waiting for him to die, or to disappear, but Herbert remains.
Seemingly unimpressed by the seasons, lack of food or company.
Every time his “house” is destroyed, he rebuilds it, relentlessly.

I think I will actually be a little sad when he dies.

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