more to come

on a bathroom stall, in arkansas

reads the inscription: 2nd amendment rights are the rights of the individuals to bear arms

i met this girl

that was covered in tattoos that came from the movie "the shining."

i swear, you can't make this shit up.

on her arm was the classic "here's jonny!" scene and the lighting was bad so the only other one i remember was the word "redrum" in huge letters across her stomach.

if i'm honest, i can't brag about this one. i only got any action because she was so into my short-haired girlfriend.

redrum girl was already naked and tearing off my short-haired girlfriend's clothes when i got there.

later, my short-haired girlfriend got a tattoo of medusa on her chest.

then one of don quioxte as a skeleton.

where do i find these women?

god listens

i met this girl

who had her entire college transcript tattooed down her back. that way, when she was fucking an admissions officer, they could judge her on several performances at once.

"so they can see me with more of a gestalt," she said.

i questioned the grammar of that sentence until i had her bent over and i saw her english grades.

she even went so far as to have a replica of her school's seal of authenticity tattooed at the bottom on her right butt cheek (i'll spare you any dastardly puns about her cum laude status).

i was going to ask myself where i found these women, but then i thought of how terrible the answer might be.

she was a tragic figure on many, many different scales, but to me, the saddest thing was that she didn't seem to understand that the days of needing to fuck one's way into higher education were a thing of the distant past, especially for a half-Lebanese, half-Syrian female trying to get a master's in educational psychology.

where do i find these women?

she showed me the first one in the series and said

"what is this?"

i vaguely, sort of recognized a depiction of the second great triumvirate war of starfish and sea horses on oil, but i said:

"ambiguous stimuli"

she blinked rapidly three times and glanced down to make sure the recorder was going and moved on to the next one.

"what is this?"

i saw this homeless man using a crowbar to shoe a Shetland pony with a pair of BK's, but i said:

"matter unorganized."

she let out an almost-sigh, and said,

"what is this?"

this time i blinked three times. there before me, in bright, lazer-printed color, was a clown, eating a dachshund alive, blood spewing everywhere.

i drew a breath and said,

"morbidly unambiguous stimuli"

she asked me to explain.

clown eating a dachshund. maybe john wayne gacy--i don't know. wouldn't surprise me if it was. did you know clowns register their faces in a national database to prevent plargarism?

she almost dropped the card and her face flushed pink in all the appropriate places.

her hands shook as she showed me the next card, a plain-jane Rorschach.

"nothing" i say and she doesn't even try to follow-up.

i can't tell, but i think she's starting to cry.

she says we have to end the test now and she will have someone else escort me back to my room.

i guess she was an animal lover.

i see evil, i hear evil, and speak tons and tons of evil

zion is fled

and she's not coming back.

into the wilderness she has been driven, and she is encompassed about and lost.

her raiment is torn and no king has sent his messengers for her.

she has passed away, like a dream in the night and she has but few mourners.

those who remember are few, but they weep and moan and lament for her.

until her memory is redeemed we shall sing, waiting at the gates of the temple, but not entering therein.

we are marshalled for a day of sacrifice and glory, a day that she shall be named a new name and her seed counted a blessing unto man.

zion is fled and we cry that we are left remaining.

may we have been carried away with thee, and abandon our dross!

may we have been beaten with you, and died by your side!

alas we are left, surrounded by those entranced by the deceiver and the deceived!

they take that which is most precious and sell it for mammon and his warships!

i shall flee, though i know not where and i shall pass away a hiss and by-word among those supposing to be righteous, yet are full of dead men's bones.

i am on my way, zion

sorry,

you're not my phenotype

there are more flies in here than there ever

used to be and the smell of urine is overwhelming, even for someone like me, who makes a career of smelling urine and cleaning shit.

i was just going to take out the trash, dressed only in a torn up wife-beater and kimono-donning penguin pajama pants, when she accosted me.

the old lady below me is like one of those trap-door spiders and i am her prey. she sits at her window all day with her door slightly ajar, waiting for me or any other of the neighbors to walk outside, then, in a matter of milliseconds, she has pounced, latched, and bitten, and escape is just something you think about while she is slowly taking your life.

the only warning she gives you is a swift whiff of urine-stench, announcing her door is open.

i tell the spider woman i can't walk her around because i'm in my pajamas, but she doesn't care. she stomps her foot, and almost crying, pleads that i at least get her across the street.

they don't tell you this on the discovery channel, but tears are how black widow's get the men to stay long enough to mate. most people assume the men do themselves in with their insatiable sex drive, but that's never been as powerful as a woman's tears. they won't tell you this because it smacks in the face of evolutionary theory and just sounds pathetic, but trust me, the truth is always pathetic.

so i take her hand (which will now smell like old person/urine for an entire afternoon, no matter how much soap i use) and she needs to get her keys and purse, so we walk into her lair.

like i said before, the flies have now taken up residence in the spider woman's lair and i almost gag when i see why:

used adult diapers, strewn all over the counter, barstools, and couch.

from what i can tell, the smell was mostly urine, so i really wandered where all the shit was.

she said she needed to get milk from the corner store. i see an unopened milk carton on her ottoman, and i tell her she has some right here, right here on the ottoman.

i'm relieved that she now no longer needs to go out, and i was off the hook.

but it's never that easy with spiders (or women).

she says she needs to get out anyway, that it's good for her hip.

the guy downstairs said the landlord was evicting the old spider woman and i didn't believe it, but i see a letter with the property management company's letterhead on her coffee table.

she asked me my name, like she does every time, and i tell her something different than the truth, just as a joke to myself. i tell her my name is elijah, and i was sent here to bind up the testimony and seal up the law, and she just smiled and said it was a pretty name.

i lead her out and down the 5 stairs of our apartment building, when it starts.

just down to the sidewalk.

just down the curb.

just across the street.

just a little further.

in between each sentence i remind her i'm in my penguins, and she says something about "Tony's Antiques and Collectibles" like she didn't hear me.

if this is a good deed, i understand why boy scouts are a dying breed.

i tell her i have to go, i'm in my pajamas, and she stops and tells me that she keeps passing this one penny everyday and she wonders what's wrong with the world these days because no one picks it up.

she says (in a weird, lyrical manner, waving her hands as if conducting a song), "hasn't anyone heard the saying: pick up a penny and find good luck, don't pick up the penny and get...uh...bad luck."

i laugh and tell her i haven't heard that one.

then she says, well...

..aren't you going to pick it up?

she's pointing her cane down a rock in the cement.

i sigh and tell her it's a rock ( i demonstrate this by kicking it with my foot, showing her it doesn't move).

while she's dumbfounded, i tell her i'm in my pajamas and i have to go.

then i go and wash my hands profusely.