The Weight of Sadness

Stephanie crosses specimen samples of my physicality and Dolly the Dreaded Dune of Delusion; she will implant a defense mechanism composed of vegetable jelly. The cocoon belly dances upon a green ceramic glazed plate, her inventor accredits a teacher thought to be forgotten; I recall a lesson regarding natural movement by a handsome man called My Beau.

"As the body motions sensitivity thus an object consisting of alike property shall wiggle."

"Oh...."

"Do you have a question Miss?"

"Is there extra credit after class?"

"You are an intriguing student."

"Could you show me an example....."

"Come over here."

"Rolf.....I'm naked."

"I'm blindfolded."

"Who did that to you?"

"That little blonde boy you call son."

"Miss and Sir....."

"Yes Stephanie....."

"Is it possible for the substance to carry digestible matter within a timely course?"

"Absolutely....what did you have in mind?"

"My first initial thought was children however I am now contemplating electronic mechanisms for synchronization."

"Sin."

"....."

"Sin."

"....."

"Little Blonde Boy!"

"Yes mother."

"Did you blindfold my boyfriend?"

"Is that who he was?"

"....."

"You will be equal inside the imaginary world of Dolly Deception."

"Stephanie you didn't see us....."

"Wiggle?"

"Is that how I was born?"

"Cordelia!"

"Makes sense....."

I am tyranny of bath towels; my uncanny eyes coordinate a keen prance through shadows. A man I call My Husband does not panic, I drink from a bottle of cool water survivalist, I shall not faint. My lids are softening exposure for glimpses of an elongated beaded neck enchanting sloping shoulders, gentle chested tenderness yearning lips to tip a slivering nuzzle; I am laying alongside a fluffy warm micro absorbent cloth dreaming a lavender man rescuing me from marrying a legitimate scientist.

"He cannot see you like that."

"Like what?"

"You weren't wearing any clothes!"

"He's my husband."

"I know about your other husbands."

"One hundred and ninety-nine. My dear....."

"I miss my husband."

"Oh dear."

Chester's tears sedate my compassion; I am forcibly tremendous flaunting my disappearance for the shock of radio controlled deviance. We discuss an inevitable dizzy spell of nausea I am to suffer upon conjoining memory and drama for clarity; combination of frequency guardians swimming through my seemingly apparent body shall render me physically ill however recovery is the knowledge of a world left behind.

"Ambrosia I just got married."

"Deja Vu is not a number."

"It is an occurrence....."

"I experienced almost two hundred twists......"

"I need one more."

"I won't be there."

"And why not?"

"I will be too busy fighting imaginary people and convicts."

"I can't marry without you."

"I am tired of wearing the same dress!"

"Then wear something else."

"Amethyst I adore you but what does Catrixenya do whenever you.....whatever.....??"

"He kisses me at the end."

"He is your husband."

"He's my Beau."

"Uh huh."

"I desire him to be my husband."

"Uh huh."

"I really really......"

"I now pronounce you sheep and woman who runs off with another man immediately when the ceremony is over."

"This is my Beau."

"I met him a hundred and ninety-nine instances my dear."

"I want him to...."

"Uh huh."

"I really...."

"Uh huh."

"He is not a sheep."

"He is a wolf."

"What you say?"

"When he is a wolf he will be your husband."

"What shall I be?"

"A damsel in distress."

"Never."

"You are such a chauvinist."

"I am not."

"What if you need protection and defense?"

"I will turn to science."

"Bull shit."

"I am shocked; you cursed!"

"Fucking fuck Victoria! You have a hundred and ninety-nine husbands! You come in here with each one bringing this man.....where did he go?"

"I lost him."

"Here is a handkerchief."

"It has a fucking cross on it!"

"Turn it upside down!"

"You are upset with me?"

"!!!"

"He went to the pub."

"I'm going to join him."

"Where is my husband?"

"Which one?"

"Von?"

"He is painting you somewhere else."

"How can he do that to me?"

"What?"

"I'm wearing clothes."

"I want a big fucking beer."

"He could of waited until I got naked."

"My dear....."

"What is there to paint?"

"Victoria!"

"Yes...."

"When you bring two-hundred I will make the stamp red with a goat."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You will marry the devil."

"Oh that's fine with me."

"....."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why are you looking at her like that?"

"Sin.....she stole my towel."

"She wanted to see if you could find it."

"I was dripping wet."

"Did you find it?"

"Yes."

"Where was it?"

"Laying next to a woman who treats me like....."

"Like what?"

"Like......"

"Seduction is not a game Victoria."

"I do not play games."

"I am your priest."

"I do not go to church."

"I am a priest."

"I saw you drink a whole fucking beer in two gulps."

"I am drunk."

"....."

"If you marry my son...."

"What's he like?"

"He's into.....he likes.....well....."

"Jester why do you call him Divine?"

"He's a preacher's son!"

"Sin."

"....."

"Sin."

"....."

"My child."

"My name is Sin."

"Yes."

"I'm a child."

"Yes."

"I'm a little blonde boy."

"Where is my husband?"

"Which one?"

"The one that is your father?"

"Did you marry a priest?"

"Heaven's no."

"You said heaven."

"I did."

"Why the hell did you say that?"

"Is he handsome?"

"My son is..........he likes....."

"He's very handsome Medusa."

"Oh....."

"I told him about you."

"What did he say?"

"Something about a fat woman....."

Braid attends each service holding the same unlit candle; I giggle while she falls asleep. I learn the concept of honeymoon and divulge a definition to my husband, he is a bigger blonde boy. A cottage finds us inside Sicily, a few tip their caps, a few grace curtsies, many smile; a blacksmith warns me of a child seen following us about, he scorched his left buttock with an iron rod.

"Two hundred."

"For the both of you.....yes."

"Amethyst...."

"Ruby...."

"You first."

"Does he count?"

"Your intimacy is not a number."

"Who is this guy anyways?"

"He's the one who brought us down here."

"Excuse me Sir....."

"....."

"What my comrade is attempting to express...."

"....."

"Mama...."

"Avie baby...."

"Will I always be your baby?"

"Yes."

"What if I make babies?"

"Shit."

"Two hundred?"

"....."

"What of our children?"

"The Princess of the Abyss and The Princess of the Damned shall marry five hundred....."

"Avie we need to talk."

"About what?"

"Five hundred is a lot."

"Your kid better do it first."

"Shit."

"What is it mama?"

"Who are all those boys?"

"They're my husbands."

"Rolf your child....."

"I wonder where she learned that from."

"Ooooh you're in trouble Avie!"

"What is that Sin?"

"It's ginger ale."

"Rolf!"

"I don't know about all those little boys being in here....."

"Five hundred!"

"What is your name?"

"I'm number three hundred and twelve."

"Avie...."

"I forgot."

"Sin...."

"It's thirty-two ounces of the good stuff."

"Medusa.....don't marry him."

"Jester.....why think of such?"

"My dear....."

"Priest....."

"I do not wish to call you daughter."

"I call you father!"

"Victoria...."

"Father...."

"If you bring me beer I might....."

"Priest!"

"Damn sheep."

"Avie I cannot condone your behavior."

"I wrote the numbers for them with a Sharpie marker."

"Which one is he?"

"I ran out of ink."

Six hundred and sixty-six pictures after which Jester and I are captured inside a station wagon listening to Aerosmith, the song is Angel; he inquires if I am the floating special effect, I confirm his suspicion however I do not claim their abode as home.

"She sounds like a backwards vacuum."

"Hide the pictures."

"She'll never find them."

"Who's got them?"

"Divine's wife."

"?!"

"He's got seventy-five."

"....."

"He should marry one indefinitely."

"Where do they come from?"

"Hell."

"I don't believe you."

"They got horns and everything."

"....."

"He's a pastime shepherd."

"They are sheep?"

"Goats."

"Goats are not sheep."

"Sort of...."

"You gave my pictures to a goat?"

"Yeah."

"!"

"Safe with him; he's the cutest one."

"How does he know which is which?"

"He numbers them with a Sharpie marker."

Avie arranges a mass of concentric circles while I sit in the center dreaming of a boy named Nicolas rescuing my daughter from a rather large woman dressed inside grey clouds.

Nicolas - Nicolette's husband, proficiently electronic, denotes imagination as selfish woe, he shall pervade a world unknown, Queen of the Damned calls him her son

"What's wrong mom?"

"I don't know what the hell is going on."

"I got a bunch of husbands!"

"I know that much."

"They are not much competition."

"They're goats Jester."

"Uh huh."

"Father I...."

"Uh huh."

"I wear one ring!"

"That is true!"

"Avie....where is my ring?"

"I played with it."

"....."

"It's shiny."

"....."

"Grandpa's joints fit inside of it."

"....."

"Four, I counted."

"Nick go home."

"How did you know it was me?"

"I'm a mother."

"What if I was a father?"

"I would still be a mother."

"I just came to see how you were doing."

"Is this a dream?"

"It's that politically correct fat woman."

"Obese...."

"She lost the controller and the cat switched it off."

"How did you know that?"

"I gave her the cat."

"Wonderful."

"So......looks like we're neighbors."

"I won't see you for a while."

"She's going to ruin it for us."

"Save Avie."

"She won't let me do that."

"And why not?"

"You're a mother."

Sin contemplates losing us indefinitely; he squashes a clay figurine underneath a square fist. Upon lifting himself to run about exhaustively I see it was a man, across the table is a similar squish of woman; both our children run inside loops of maddening anger.

"Cordelia...."

"I'm going to call you Dad."

"Okay."

"....."

"Cordelia?"

"Dad."

"Yes?"

"I don't want Avie or Sin to be vampiric."

"Mama I bit that man."

"You did too! What did he taste like?"

"Shaving cream."

"Mine tasted like vanilla lotion."

"Why not?"

"Why not?"

"That is what I asked."

"I replied alike."

"I understand."

"I don't want them to....."

"Mama I need one."

"I do too."

"How can you stand it?"

"Cordelia will show you."

"They don't....."

"Then what?"

"It's a nucleic neon green substance."

"It's sort of minty."

"Rolf your child.....she....."

"Married four hundred and thirty-eight boys."

"That's not all."

"She rolls joints with her toes."

"Shit."

Brad desires opening a pipe outlet for local enthusiasts; he obtains a permit. I dream of marijuana legalization freeing innocent people from prison, he tells me such is possible if we are without enemies, I ask who hates us.

"Fat people."

"Ambrosia...."

"I can't do it. You got to do it."

"What do they eat again?"

"Bread has something to do with her fear of Jesus and the butter represents......"

"Fat."

"That's what she looks like?"

Two hundred and sixty-six people conclude the same description.

"She's got hair and stuff."

"I don't know. Big...."

"You should be scared for yourself."

"Why?"

"She's fat!"

"Ruby I am tired of hearing the word fat."

"I heard it seven hundred and eleven counts."

"I don't care.....he better not hurt my wife."

"I'll die."

"Mama don't worry about finding them."

"Who can miss that?"

"That's all you need to know sweetie."

Jester and I sleep upon a sofa bed; we escaped through a bathroom window arm to leg. He mumbles counting goats, I giggle. We awaken elsewhere inside a graphical nightmare, houses fall from the sky, businesses smash into streets, people chat nonsense, roads lead nowhere; he screams about fat people ruling the world, I dream of wolves.