Saturday 2nd Oct - Early evening
At that point I shot up and recoiled holding my hand. For a moment I was shocked numb, then overcome by a confusion of fear and panic. John may have failed in his attempt to pin my paw to the table but he had certainly caught me a good one with the blade. Blood was now dripping furiously from under my right hand and my brain was thinking of nerves and veins and arteries.
“You've fucking lost it!!” I screamed in terror “You've completely lost your fucking mind!”
John didn't react. Instead, he reached towards the knife, withdrew it, then slammed it back down, this time with twice the force. As it once again trembled away he raised his head and adjusted his glasses. “you.asked.for.it” he said “you.wanted.all.of.this. So.tomorrow. fuck.christ. we.will.dance!” And then he left and my legs felt like they'd had the bones removed. I sat down at the table and hesitantly uncovered my left hand. In the top there was a small, open maw about a centimetre long and deep. It wasn't good, but it could have been a whole lot worse.
Verlaine?
ReplyDeleteWell either he thinks he's Richard Hell or Rambo - you know Lush Rimbaud...
Abigail, I see what you're getting at and love the Rambo play on Rimbaud (because I've always had huge difficulty pronouncing his name) but actually it's just poor writing on my behalf.
ReplyDeleteJohn screamed "Verlaine!!!" as if HE was Verlaine (Like jumping downstairs and shouting "Superman"). I think in the set up I was Rambo. If I'd have known I would have worn my wife-beater vest for that one. X
Not BAD writing, just slightly ambiguous.
ReplyDeleteBut then I'm the one who used the phrase
'She-Goddess'
which is a riot of tautology...
in that the 'she' is inherent in the 'GodESS' -
which I do, of course, still remain...