Sunday, January 31, 2010

BlowUp - Taster

So, I decided to post a little snippet of something I'm writing at the moment.
It's not the full thing, obviously, cuz I want to keep the rest off the interwebz for the moment, but I thought I'd share a morcel with ya, see what you make of it...




There comes a time in every person's life when at some point they stand in front of a mirror and go: "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?!

In the worst cases this moment entails some weird fungus procured via unruly conduct that you'd rather not tell your mother about; a sudden wart infection on the tip of your nose; an eye so red that your favorite lipstick seems bland in comparison; or whatever weird, sick and disgusting outburst you can encounter whilst searching the web for weird and disgusting outbursts in/on humans.

This morning, however, it was Shirley's turn.

Now, first let me tell you a little bit about Shirley.
Shirley 's a 32-year-old accountant who works at a loans and mergers bank, somewhere in a small town in Ohio.
Her life consists of;

* Waking up at 7 via her radio-alarm-clock (she's had it since she was in college and it has travelled extensively through several states, and two -lost- months in Mexico, before reaching its current location), it's invariably set to a '80 soft-rock radio channel.

* Eating a bowl of cereal in the morning (preferably Cocoa Puffs) with skimmed milk, and a banana side dish. Sometimes coffee, but only on Wednesdays, to cut the week in half.

* Taking a shower; not too hot, hot showers make your skin get used to heat, but also not too cold; hypothermia from taking a shower is NOT a way to go (she tried this out once during high-school, effect: the most severe cold she's ever had in her entire life)

* Putting on a dark-blue power skirt-suit accompanied with dark blue moccasins and a white shirt. Hair...well...whichever way it manages to look somewhat alright. (no haircuts since 2002 due to personal budgetary cuts. Scissors and bathroom mirror, however, don't always work their magic)

* Driving the 32 minutes it takes to get to work in her beaten down Toyota Corolla

* Spending 8 hours doing mundane and boring chores in an even more mundane and boring grey cubicle (which she adorned with a small poster of two kittens hugging, because it made her smile the first time she saw it, and a little plastic plant next to her computer screen), eating a crustless cucumber and peanutbutter sandwich for lunch between 12:31 and 12:57, and doing some more mundane work, until 17:01 when she would step out of the cubicle and get to her car via several grey passages, an elevator and a car park. To drive home again.

* At 18:12 she would take her microwave dinner out of the microwave (depending on the day: chicken curry, Swedish meatballs and mash, macaroni and cheese, lasagne, boeuf bourginon, spaghetti bolognese, and on sunday a ready-made hamburger) and eat it in front of the television whilst watching old re-runs of Dynasty.

* Weekends she would spend in her house, cleaning and doing other homely chores. Grocery shopping (which she did on Saturday for the entire week) and watching cartoon shows. All the while, dressed in a grey tracksuit with hoodie and a crisp pair of white sneakers.

* Bedtime, regardless what day it was, would be at 22:30.

It might sound a bit boring, but she liked her life that way.
No complications.
No distractions.
Nothing to break up the comfortable little bubble she had built for herself.
She had had boyfriends during her teen years, and some in college, but had decided to remain solitary, since she didn't seem to be able to figure out the romance part of it. And she didn't like how it made her feel lost and out of control.
Plus men were too complicated to figure out; she felt they never say what they want, always beat around the bush, and it thoroughly annoyed her.

Thus was her quiet life.
And she liked it that way.

Until, that is; that one morning.