The room is red. Red walls. Red floor. The only furnishings are a black
pillow and a low black table, the light from the bare bulb above shining
off its glossy surface.
There is one person in the room. She sits at the table, opposite the
pillow. Her hands are busy shuffling and reshuffling a deck of
cards.
She frees one card from the deck, placing it face down on the table. A
second card follows. She looks at the third card.
"You'd think my life was perfect, wouldn't you?"
"Hmmmm?"
"I mean, I have people to feed me, people to love me. People get pleasure
from grooming me. I come when I please, leave when I get bored. Everyone
just accepts it."
"My life isn't so bad, either. I get fed, played with, groomed, and loved
too."
"Yes, but you're expected to come when they call you. If you bring in one
of your toys still squirming, you get hit with the paper."
"True. But you've got a reputation for being arrogant, cunning and
cruel."
"At least I'm not a dopey mutt. There's a reason people think dogs are
stupid, you know."
04.16.02
Our senses lie to us.
Lying in bed, waiting for sleep to come, I find myself distracted by the
feeling of the futon below me, the weight of the blankets above. By how I
can feel the material of the sheets against my skin without
moving.
And it comes to me that, from the inside, my body feels small and strong
and compact.
04.17.02
I need to clone of one of my friends.
This way, I can coerce the extra into a screaming clawing crazy sweaty
monkey sex affair with no strings and no regrets, and keep the original as
one of my best friends.
All text, images, and designs
© copyright 2001
jeni
unless otherwise noted.
Play Nicely.
