Puppetry

Of Sound Mind And Body/Marvin Tussaud's/How The Body Falls Apart

Dammit. Just a whole lot of dammit. My head stopped hurting, thankfully, but the flighty feeling of emptiness and yet fulfillment was still there. Hmmmm--oh, right. Him and Her and the Company of Saints and Seraphim. I still have to describe them and their various roles in getting me to this point, but once again I got horribly and unacceptably distracted--probably due to the aforementioned mind-wiping. Anyway, hm, what can I say about these heavenly creatures? 

For one thing, they certainly have an affectation for games and parlor tricks. Like when I first bought "Mary"'s portrait home from the county fair, I couldn't stop looking at her or caring about her and when my family and I brought her inside--four things proceeded to happen: one, I had begged for the portrait to hang on my wall, dead in the center, primed for judgment day. The thing creeped me out after a few days and I begged for someone to take it down. Like a beaten puppy, I was unaware of what exactly she was trying to do, so I grew afraid--but I kept it, hoping the feeling would settle, like a storm passing over a small farm. Two: it got "lost", and by "lost" I meant, running around and looking for her as if she wasn't covered in plastic wrap under the table. Three: excess scrupulosity...and four: this book. 

Pfft. Nope. In fact, the feeling just grew and spread like an invasive fungus that hid its goodness until I had finally snapped and wrote it down, as most writers have the sense to do. But where?

Let's say my first shot was--bad. Very bad. Like, take-your-money and run bad. The second, even worse, but the third--dear God, the third. I was obsessed with her and her friends by then, and frankly scared for the future as a whole. Hell, I still am scared for it, what with everyone rioting and yelling like the crowd at the Temple. Or something. I don't know. I don't want to know! I want to just break down and cry...but, here I am anyway, at 4:29 p.m. writing about her.

And now it's 9:18. I thought it was much later than that, but I guess not. So, the cat showed up again...but didn't talk to me yet. I'll get to him later, the cute little thing. Now, where...was...I...oh, right! Her. She was the queen of heaven, her blue veil shining in the dim light of the moon, her shortness ignored for how important her and her son were. 

So, to the dark and imaginative me, she was curious. Good and homely and pretty, so why did she show up to me? I was curious and sinful like the rest of the human beings on Earth--but...wait, apparently there was no but, apparently there was only a yes to her bizarre request.

Though I kept pestering why, and I still do to this day--well, her son too--until a headache struck from above. The sort of hyperfocused kind that made me think of changing my name and moving to the Vatican City one moment and then absolutely nothing the next day.