The middle-aged women dragged a comb through her frizzy unwashed hair as it ripped out of her scalp. She was laughing in the mirror as she continued combing the laugh turned into loud cry and she fell on the floor. She got back up and started rolling around on the floor. Carla Bents used to be a gymnast until she went bankrupt her husband died. Now she cant stop jittering and thinking of her old days while she combs her hair. Carla skips to the shower and turns the water all the way to cold. She then lays her slimy frail back onto the dirty surface of the shower. She sits and stairs fixated on the tile ceiling as the frigid water splashes her slim tummy. She lies there until dark until the sun is not shining until her depression is over. She steps outside and waters her rocks with a rusted tin can. Flowers just die, rocks don’t. Thought Carla. She then attempts a handstand while walking to the busted up rickety porch. Her hands pushing the grass down like three-year-olds pushing play dough down to form a pancake. Carla stepped inside and laid in her creaking bed, well just a wire frame now. A year ago Carla ripped the inside of her mattress out and used the remains for her cat liter box. The cat was long gone no, thing is the fat fur ball died three years ago. Carla had a strict diet; she only ate apples with mustard inside it. It was a mix of sour sweet bitter dark flavor that would make anyone cringe. Beside Carla that’s all this women could eat. After Carla woke up from her wire frame, she dragged her crusty feet to the sink for her morning glass of water. She used all the might she had to turn the faucet onto the on position. A brown liquid poured out as she filled her plastic cup that said world’s greatest wife on it. She drank down the liquid and thought I need to comb my hair.
January 11, 2012