34 | Psychopomp Magazine
I don’t want to.
Just do it.
The toll attendant, who?
Knock knock.
Who’s there?
Don’t watch. Don’t watch as Derrida pulls the van to the side of the road. Don’t watch as he yells about coins. Collect Little Fucker and tell him it will be all right. Hold Little Fucker’s face to your chest and shield his eyes. Make a bad, repetitive joke about toll attendants and whisper it into Little Fucker’s ear.
You are a pop culture, postmodern junkie. There is no methadone or metronome to rhythm you. Dana Carvey sucks. Fuck Dana Carvey.
When he sneaks into your room, pretend you are Molly Ringwald. Make a runaway list and buy a box of red hair dye and dream about James Spader because Andrew McCarthy is a pussy. Wish for a friend named Duckie.
You are a diverse set of possibilities. There is nothing wrong with you; there is everything wrong with you. You will ask Aretha if you can talk to someone about things. You will tell her something is wrong and you aren’t sure what it is but you feel sad and scared and restless most of the time. You will take the blame the way you would with a boyfriend you want to leave but don’t want to hurt. Aretha will say nothing is wrong with you. And you will get angry. You will beg. You will tell Aretha she never made you four whole fried chickens. Why didn’t she make you four whole fried chickens? Never once. Not even for a joke or a birthday party. Not in all the years did she make you four whole fried chickens. And she will say, But I bought you many orange Crushes. Why isn’t orange Crush good enough?
Orange Crush doesn’t make a complete meal. Chicken is more nutritional. Chicken’s nutritional hierarchy trumps Orange Crush.
It has natural fruit juices!