| TABOO "But they can't show that on TV. I mean, you go to work and die? It's bad enough that that happens after high school." November 12, 1976 There had not been one day of his entire life where he had not automatically woken up at 8:00. That day was no exception. Like clockwork, at 8 AM his eyes opened. He peeled his face off of his waterbed, his eyes pulling themselves into a squint as if the morning was brighter than usual. He licked his lips and tasted salty sweat and sex, which explained the naked woman he realized was sleeping next to him. He lay in bed for a little while, trying to piece together the previous night against the best efforts of his hangover as the room quitly beat white against his temples. After a little while he tried to get up but the the cities sunlight pushed him back into bed, so he just lay there staring at the back of the woman's head. She had long brown hair that was pressed intimately to her bare body, cradling her smooth skin and delicately shaped curves. He lay in awe of the whole serenity and sensuality of the scene when he saw it. It was nestled deep into her mane, stalking him like a tiger in a brush. He couldn't exaclty figure out what it was: it appeared to be the brown corner of something that was thoroughly lodged in her hair. He stared it down, almost to make sure it wasn't alive before he slid his hand out from under the sweaty covers and pinched it. A greasy fluid sponged out, unleashing a famliliar yet extremely appaling aroma. He swallowed then slowly pulled it out of the back of her head. It was a long brown strip of meat. He suddenly remebered the night before and the $40 of gyros he and the woman had bought form the smelly restaraunt across the street. He remembered them stumbling drunkly back to his studio apartment, laughing and shrieking with delight. He remebered the night of wild lovemaking; the threesome between him, the woman, and the gyros. The shock quickly slapped him across the face and rolled him off of the waterbed. He stood up and gasped in horror as he saw the strips plastered all over his naked body like large brown leaches, each one oozing the salty white sauce. The gyros were everywhere. They clung to his back and stuck to his scalp and each one of them screamed the same ovewhelming and disgusting smell. It was also awkward: he had had sex with the gyros all night long and now they had to leave, but they just wouldn't go. He ran to the window with a hand over his eyes and clumsily threw it open. He tried to fan the gyros out with his open palms, but it was no use. How could something that was so fantastic the night before be so incredibly awful the next morning? A gag reflex told him he was about to throw up so he quickly stuck his head out of the window. He went a little too far, though, lost his balance, and went flying out into the cold November morning. September 11, 2001 The rows of cubicles were turning black, their docile gray carpet covering was being licked noxiously by the long, yellow, flaming tounges. The sprinkler system had died about five minutes ago and no one was left on his floor. Memories of the building shaking and the fiery yellow cloud billowing out of the windows two or three stories beneath him played over and over in his head as he stared at the curtain of thick black smoke that hid the city from his view. He was standing motionless, still holding a manilla folder, staring down the hallway of flaming black cubicles to the broken window at the end, the unfreindly smell of a burning computer monitor stinging his nose. He dropped the folder and slowly walked over to the window with a funny creep to his step, as if tiny marionette strings were making him do it. He stood at the edge of the building and put his hand out into the black cloud. It felt like thousands of hairs all rising up around his hand, undulating as if they were alive. He closed his eyes and leapt out of the window. He landed naked in a snowbank, steam and the smell of gyros rising off of his bare body into the cold morning air. |