I have a long afternoon grammar class. It begins with Tom being called a “fat ass” by Tanya, to whom Tom in turn says, “Suck my dick, bitch.” Then it starts to get ugly. By the time I settle this nonsense down, I’m summoned to go to a mystery meeting that was just called. I …
Something is happening with time. It’s frozen solid or is a rock face and me without toeholds or footholds to cling to. What does one do without any sense of time? I am begging time to come back while I wait, wait, wait for me to come back. I see myself in a heap on …
Across the hall from me, Mr. Gates is having a wall installed in his room. He doesn’t need a new wall, and tries to explain this. He also tries to explain that he had plans to teach today, as opposed to suffering hammers and saws all day. The workmen respectfully listen. Gates is seven feet …
Words are turds so I don’t say a thing. I crawl back to my study, try to write Doctor Susan. I’m dying. Robert is at my throat. The word are misspelled, me on my knees using only one finger. Now the floor is sweeping me away, a magic carpet. Now I go limp, my head …
7 and I sign-in. I smile at the new secretary, Mrs. Dexter. She’s nice in a vacant sort of way. She’s got an IQ best described as unpretentious. I watch her type a letter. “deAr Msr. evans.” She has never used a computer, never even turned one on. She doesn’t answer the phone very well …
I’m crawling all over the house searching for my meds, still screaming like a child in a burning building. My brain is on fire. I can smell its stinky smoke like seared meat. Where are the firemen? Who’s going to save the very life my husband wants to kill? Should I call 911? No, too …
I have to turn in the weekly lesson plan that nobody reads, the one everybody knows nobody reads. But I got to do it anyway even though the district office hasn’t hired anyone to read lesson plans, and, even if they did, I don’t give a wank. It’s mandated. So I pretty much copy word-for-word the …
His hands are at my throat, choking me, slowly choking me to death. He’s squeezing me so hard I can hear my neck break–snap, snap, like a chicken bone. Will he pluck me, too? I see feathers, many bloody feathers on the ratty grey rug. Each of them has a bone in it, this I …