11-04-11
Strange Wendy
I find a life-sized doll-woman in the garbage. I feel very bad for her, but as I drag her out, I am mocked by those that are passing by, and I realize that this is because half of her is missing. Therefore I feel bad for only half of her, and this is a rather strange feeling. There's obviously little hope.
I take her to my grandparent's house and put her in the closet, then go to sleep on the living room floor, in front of the TV. When I look a certain way, at a certain angle at the ceiling, it can't be seen and the hazy sky appears.
One day a man walks down the street, singing as he goes. He drags a coffin-like box by a rope over his shoulder, and walks a skinny dog. He refers to me by a made-up name, and sings it mockingly. "William Massile." Then he offers to sell me the box, which contains the rest of the doll-woman.
I put her back together, like a puzzle. I drink a lot.
One day she seems to be complete, because she suddenly fades and disappears.
I wake up one morning and walk down the road to childhood friend G's house. I begin to suspect I'm dreaming when I see large neon signs on the side of the old house, in the middle of barns and corals with horses.
Inside is a similarly out of place banquet; the guests are all "sophisticated" and dressed in a bizarre combination of old-fashioned ways. I feel rather. . .inadequate.
There's a fat kid who seems to recognize me; with great excitement he summons me from earshot of the diners. He knows the real "Wendy," as I learn the doll's name to be. He introduces us. She's very shy, and very beautiful, but I'm deeply saddened to learn she's got a boyfriend. She tells me how insecure he is, and how he constantly needs her kindness.
The fat kid sits near the ocean now, and meditates or something, trying to "free his mind." Wendy and I look at him, and look at each other quizzically. I wonder if the two of us couldn't actually succeed in freeing his mind for him.
