Friday, June 20, 2003
the misadventures of trash can girl
it's funny what people will ignore when they don't want to know the truth. "oh right, shannon is not dead." i guess i didn't notice at first either. she was just the new girl. she wore all the right clothes and she had hair down to her hips. it just clung to the back of her trash can. she had a special servant to push her around in a big aluminum ribbed trash can. i had seen ones like that at the National Park once. i didn't think they converted them to wheel chairs. who knows? when people are rich and handicapped, they do weird shit. i liked her from the moment i looked into her one eye -- the other one was sewn shut, or so it looked like. i think i fell in love with her because i could feel myself falling and when i would look up from almost vomiting on my shoes and see her, she would stop that feeling but i'm pretty sure she was the one that started it in the first place. she turned heads. well, it might have been the flies. i just thought she liked insects. she was always wearing hats with lots of netting and when i would look at her from across homeroom, i would see that one eye staring back. it was blue. i think. she seemed so distant and i imagined what i would say to her if i ever got the courage to say hello. the things she would like -- baseball, nirvana and hot chocolate. the things we would do together -- make out under the bleachers and um, that's as far as i'd gotten.
she didn't have a lot of friends. she didn't say a lot. Pedro, the servant, did all the talking for her. He'd whisper in her ear at first and then answer, "Rome, Italy" or "Shoo" or "Shannon does like french fries, thankyouvermuch." he would never let anyone approach her. they would sit in corners and he would read to her when she wasn't in class. she always ate lunch out in the greens, pedro speedily spooning her medication into her flushed lips. she often had fevers. that would be the excuse they would tell the class. "billy, could you read for shannon, she's out with fever." i never minded taking her turns in English. we were reading Hamlet. the days she was absent, the kids would whisper in the halls. "she smells, dude. she smells." i overheard once by my locker. i knew they were talking about her. i knew it was the new scent from france. she was european, i think. she has class, i tried to tell them once but i just got shunned out as well. i didn't mind. i had shannon.
¶ 1:02 AM
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it's funny what people will ignore when they don't want to know the truth. "oh right, shannon is not dead." i guess i didn't notice at first either. she was just the new girl. she wore all the right clothes and she had hair down to her hips. it just clung to the back of her trash can. she had a special servant to push her around in a big aluminum ribbed trash can. i had seen ones like that at the National Park once. i didn't think they converted them to wheel chairs. who knows? when people are rich and handicapped, they do weird shit. i liked her from the moment i looked into her one eye -- the other one was sewn shut, or so it looked like. i think i fell in love with her because i could feel myself falling and when i would look up from almost vomiting on my shoes and see her, she would stop that feeling but i'm pretty sure she was the one that started it in the first place. she turned heads. well, it might have been the flies. i just thought she liked insects. she was always wearing hats with lots of netting and when i would look at her from across homeroom, i would see that one eye staring back. it was blue. i think. she seemed so distant and i imagined what i would say to her if i ever got the courage to say hello. the things she would like -- baseball, nirvana and hot chocolate. the things we would do together -- make out under the bleachers and um, that's as far as i'd gotten.
she didn't have a lot of friends. she didn't say a lot. Pedro, the servant, did all the talking for her. He'd whisper in her ear at first and then answer, "Rome, Italy" or "Shoo" or "Shannon does like french fries, thankyouvermuch." he would never let anyone approach her. they would sit in corners and he would read to her when she wasn't in class. she always ate lunch out in the greens, pedro speedily spooning her medication into her flushed lips. she often had fevers. that would be the excuse they would tell the class. "billy, could you read for shannon, she's out with fever." i never minded taking her turns in English. we were reading Hamlet. the days she was absent, the kids would whisper in the halls. "she smells, dude. she smells." i overheard once by my locker. i knew they were talking about her. i knew it was the new scent from france. she was european, i think. she has class, i tried to tell them once but i just got shunned out as well. i didn't mind. i had shannon.
¶ 1:02 AM
|
