I was the last to enter the room. Since I was meeting Sybriel’s mother, I decided it would be best to show my personality, what I believed in. So I wore my sackcloth, though I did comb my hair and brush my teeth.
I expected her to hate me from the start. You see, with a name like Sybriel and with luck like mine, I was sure that my angel had come from a Jewish family. I half expected her to toss me out when she saw my obvious Catholic behaviours, but she merely sat there, staring bleakly at the little board in front of her.
“Are we going to play monopoly?” I asked. “I don’t know how to play, but I will be your Latin slave and give you all of my property free of charge. I have my whips in the car too,”
I think she blinked. But it may have been a maggot. I moved closer and ripped the cushion from my chair before seating. I don’t use cushions. And that is when I saw it. The game board was not a monopoly board. I remembered it from a “DO NOT TOUCH” list back at nun school. It was a board of evil. Taking my handy flame torch from under my hood, I lit it on fire and watched it burn. I think the Lady Angel smiled.
“These are evil,” I told her, blowing the ashes away. One landed in her decaying eyeball. “Oh My goodness!” I cried. “I AM SOOO SORRRYYY!” I knelt at her feet and wept. And to my imense joy, she did not die! For the dead cannot die twice. Unless there is magic blood involved. Again, something shifted in her face. I was momentarily regretful that I had blasted our only means of communication. So I bit myself to be reminded that she probably had nothing to say to anyone as lowly as myself anyway.
When I had bled for what I was sure was long enough, I stood and got a washcloth and a bowl from the kitchen, where I preceaded to make up for my embarrising display. I washed her decrepit face and combed her hair with my fork, all the while feeding her the fancy American food from the table. I was content with the rat droppings and insects that I picked off of various parts of her body. I was actually happy for a bit and did not feel the need to punish myself. I was serving another person while lowering myself at the same time. I washed her feet and trimmed her toenails. By the time we were done, she was almost unrecognizable. I wrenched the scissors from her chest and kissed her boo boo, putting a Power Rangers band-aid over it. “There,” I said. “All better,” And then I let her look in the mirror.
“Now I think it is only fair to tell you why I am such an awful person. I cry for the world, yet my tears kill the world. Two weeks ago I kissed a man and that is why I am wearing sackcloth. The week before that I almost killed the entire moshing audience of a Disney style concert. That is where the burns on my earlobes come in. Would you like to see what I did to my tounge last night?”
And before I could get to why I didn’t eat my breakfast this morning, time was up. I kissed the Lady Angel’s freshly scrubbed feet and left her.
When I left the house, I torched that too. Poor women, never recieving a proper burial. Of course, for my audacity, I had to set my foot on fire, but I think it was worth it.
Oh goodness. I’m sure that went terrible. She must have hated me. A woman of such beauty and grace, she must have been bored out of her mind. I mean, is there anyone as uptight as me and my mother (who didn’t let me have a pet rock until I was 18?) And so worldly as well. She must have hated my description of Mexico. *sigh* I must learn to loosen up if I ever want to be like someone as wonderful as Sybriel’s mother.
All that abuse you’re piling on yourself, I’ll be suprised if there’s anything left by the end of the competition.
The bright side really is that you can’t kill her with your black tears…Every cloud Maya, Every cloud.
You’re kinda cute when you’re burning things down.