Calisthenics 1, Week 10
In class character development exercise
I think sometimes that you are the most dangerous person in Amerika, yes with a K. Your face still turns reddish pink when I say that. Your supermodel blond hair runs all the way down to your housewife-after-six-kids hips, shedding like our cats Megatron and Pumpkin who are attention-whores. I love you, yet I despise you, because the way to a man's heart is his belly, and my gut is filled with all your concoctions: Indian chicken curry, cornbread casserole, holiday cookies, and that damn cider. Oh! what a wretch I am! The scarf you knitted last December now hides the hickie on my neck. I wish you wouldn't be so rough. I wish I could run away like Pumpkin did last June. I would get much farther than Carrollton Square. I imagine simply sliding smoothly out the section of the door I cut for the kitties. But, I, we, are stuck here in this vertigo. I pull in a deep breath, with the paprika and nutmeg smacking my nostrils, and pull off the red and yellow scarf. This is like my Auschwitz, your Eternal Treblinka. Wow, I am Fred Hampton in his Chi-Town bed. Oh my god, I am in love with a white MILF again.
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