cRaZy LiZzY

Lizzy has been seeing Al now for five weeks. Things couldn’t be better between them! He calls her every night, they spend time together every weekend, when he doesn’t have his kids. He has been talking about letting her meet his kids soon; he has a boy and a girl. Although he has been divorced for four years, he is the ideal Dad. He talks lovingly about combing his little girl’s hair, about taking them to the zoo, about meeting with their teachers regularly. Al will make the best Dad for the children that they will have someday. She daydreams about that all the time at work, in her cubicle. How they will live in a sprawling house in the country, with chickens in the yard, and a yellow Lab.

When they are together she gives herself to him completely. She is his slave. Once he hurt her, he was so enthusiastic in his desire and wanting to try something new, but she dealt with it, without complaint. Their love is unconditional, and she knows he would do the same for her.

It’s Thursday, and she absentmindedly files her nails at work, looking forward to the weekend coming up. She went to Cherry during her lunch hour and bought a sexy negligee for the weekend. It is scarlet red lace, with a sheer bodice and matching thong. She will give herself a manicure and pedicure tonight to match. He doesn’t know yet, but she is planning to surprise him with a delicious gourmet dinner. Two weeks ago, she borrowed his spare key that was hanging in the kitchen, and when she went out for wine she made a copy of it. When he gets off tomorrow, she is going to be waiting in his dining room, with the candle lit dinner on the table. She will be dressed in her new outfit, hair freshly shampooed, ready to be dessert. She was lost in her daydream, and the sound of her phone ringing startled her. The bitch on the other end was demanding, and wanted answers Lizzy really wasn’t feeling like answering, but since it was only an hour until she got off work, she grudgingly did her job, and if there were an edge in her voice, oh well. Tough.

After work she stopped at the butcher shop for the perfect beef tenderloin. She couldn’t leave this date to chance, the grocery store wasn’t going to be good enough. She thought $30 was a little high, but it will be worth it. Something tells her that tomorrow is going to be special. He’s probably going to propose, who knows? After all, she has made herself to be everything he could ever want in a woman, and who is more beautiful than she is?

She knows she’s beautiful, and she is constantly reminded. She is reminded by the lust she sees in the eyes of every man she encounters (and some women too); by the jealous glares of her female co-workers. Nobody really talks to her, and she’s okay with it. It’s just more time she gets to spend with herself.

After the butcher it’s a trip to the florist, then the liquor store for red wine. Ah, red wine, red meat, red negligee. Red, the color of love.

After doing her nails and toes, she spent a restless night trying to sleep. She would be taking off work early tomorrow for the preparation, and had everything ready in the refrigerator to take with her to work tomorrow. Her dreams, when she did sleep, were of hot and feverish lovemaking.

Bounding out the door the next morning, Lizzy had a hard time containing her joy, even at work. She spoke to the herd of coffee-drinking cows gathered in the kitchen with coffee, and gave them a toothy smile when she put her goodies in the refrigerator. They returned the greeting tentatively, fake smiles plastered on their ugly faces. She was courteous, and helpful to the point of being overbearing with every customer call that she took. She wanted the world to feel as good as she was feeling this morning.

She took off promptly at noon, grabbed her things and hopped in her Toyota to get to Al’s place in plenty of time. In the parking lot she grabbed everything then literally ran up the two flights to his 3^rd floor condo. She peeled potatoes, chilled wine, baked pie. She slipped into her negligee around four, and everything was coming along fine when she heard her cell phone ringing in her purse on the counter. Racing over to grab it, she breathlessly answered to Al’s rich, velveteen baritone saying her name. She was swooning and feeling moist, and had to sit down, and it took her a few minutes to realize that he was still saying her name. “Did you hear me Lizzy?” he asked. “I said I’m not going to be able to see you this weekend, because my brother is in town! He surprised me, and we are going skiing. Lizzy?”

“Okay,” she managed to gurgle. It was happening all over again. She clicked the “end” button on her phone, and sat there. She knew that her skin was as red as her negligee; she was filled with rage. He was breaking up with her. Usually, it only took four weeks, but she thought Al was different, because they had made it over the hump. And now, here she was like some damn fool, wearing lingerie that she couldn’t afford, cooking steak that broke her budget, all for some idiot that had her fooled for a while.

She was burning up inside, and she could feel her stomach rumbling as it prepared to expel the salad she had eaten for lunch. She walked stonily across the room, and in a daze, squatted and relieved herself, noisily, hotly and stinking, on the floor. Through the thong. She picked up hand full of the hot mess, running between her fingers, and used it to write insults on the wall. “Fuck you Asshole!” “I hate you!” She picked up the bottle of wine and smashed it into the wall, then used the broken bottle to gouge insults into the wall. She tore at her hair; was still tearing and shrieking so loudly that she didn’t hear the door open. She didn’t see Al and his brother, carrying a suitcase, standing in the doorway, silently watching the scene taking place in his living room.

She didn’t see the shock on their faces for a full three minutes.

Sleepwalkers

Because we saunter through life asleep, we miss many of the things that are going on right under our noses. At least once a day, I remember to look closely. I  want to be the person who ALWAYS look closely, but I’m not. I walk right past the dairy case, looking at my reflection in the glass, then I’m surprised when I realize that I walked right past it without getting the milk. I express surprise when I realize that the dead marigold I’m picking up off the flowerbed floor is dead butterfly.

This feature is dedicated to looking deeper. I’m convinced that we are missing incredible things that go on around us every day, because we are so caught up in the daily grind that we don’t pay attention.

How many times have you seen a Raptor on top of a telephone pole or light post? Once I saw a Great Horned-Owl on top of a streetlight, and I had to pull over to look at it, because I thought my eyes were deceiving me. This fellow must have been at least three feet high! He sat up there and watched traffic go by, while I watched him. He was a giant silhouette in the night sky, and the streetlight was really high up. I’m not advocating looking in the sky while you are driving, but I’m sure that other motorists would have been enchanted as I was if only they were paying attention to their environment.  I was privileged to see him lift his HUGE wings and take off into the night.

One morning I saw a Red-Tailed Hawk sitting on top of a streetlight, and once again, I pulled over, because I love looking at these magnificent creatures. He turned his head and side-eyed me for a minute, then went back to whatever he was doing. What do I do? Of course, snap a picture, which I am sharing with you now.

Take a moment. Look deeper and find the extraordinary.

Hello World!

It's a new day, and I have a new attitude. I'm stepping away from politics for a while to allow my frustration of the whole thing to manifest in some random writings.

I'm going to start this new blog with an oldie but goodie. In 2006 this story was submitted to a website that publishes horror short stories, and was published. Our heroine, Bossy, looks innocent enough, and to the average person, acts normal. However, look closer. Inside those soft brown eyes burns an anger that can't be diminished. It is the kind of anger that never comes to a happy ending. Read her story.

Mad Cow

Bossy could feel the sensation coming over her again; the familiar anxiety and slow burn that was becoming more and more frequent. She glanced anxiously at the barn: how was she going to get over there to feed her need without attracting attention? They were all supposed to be out grazing just now, at least for another two hours or so. She was beginning to feel as if she were losing her mind, and a tear slid down her soft black and white muzzle.

How it Began

It all started about a month ago, and it was an accident. Of course, she had always seen the little devils around the farm - they tended to hang out by the barn where the mice and other vermin congregated. She had resented them from day one. They hung around the humans, they ran free, they were even allowed into the big house. She was sure that once, from a distance, she had seen one lying in front of a warm fire one cold and snowy evening. And it wasn’t just the fact that they lived this privileged life; they were arrogant. They had this cold stare that would just stab her in the heart whenever her eyes locked with one of theirs. On this particular day a month ago, she had wandered out a little further than normal into some deeper grass. Normally she preferred the shorter grass that was just the right height for her mouth, but she was feeling a little frustrated this day and wanted to get away from the others. She was standing there gazing into the distance, feeling frustrated, when she heard a movement in the grass, and turned her head just in time to see one of the little demons pounce on a mouse and crush it in his jaws. Holding its prize, it turned to Bossy, and had the nerve to arch its back and make this furious hissing sound. Bossy was livid, but held her ground. The little demon moved in closer, hissing, and Bossy lost it. Faster than she had moved since she was a wee calf, she ran up to the little hisser and stomped down with all her might right across its humpy little back. Oh, the noise was horrendous, as the thing wailed and thrashed. Bossy quickly stomped down again, this time on its little head with a satisfying crunch, looking around to see if anyone had seen her. The sensation that she felt was indescribable: a pure, unadulterated joy and satisfaction, and a shudder racked her entire body. She had never felt anything like it, and she felt her anger and anxiety slip away into a liquid pool at her feet and quickly evaporate into tiny white butterflies that flitted into the air and dissipated. Bossy was hooked. After she recovered, she started planning how to get more of these things. She remembered that they hung out at the barn, and so began her secret obsession.

The Hunt

As Bossy strolled toward the barn trying to be inconspicuous, stopping from time to time to take a bite of grass, she reflected on the Hisser’s deaths that she had been responsible for over the last month, and it eased her anxiety a little.

She had found one napping peacefully next to a hay bale three weeks ago, and, after looking around to make sure there would be no witnesses, she moved her muzzle close to the pointed little Hisser ear and let out a low “Moooo.” There was no response, so she softly nudged it in the side with her hoof and another “Moooo.” The yellow eyes slowly opened and focused on her, and she had just enough time to witness a look of terror as the Hisser realized its fate, as it saw Bossy, pumped up by adrenalin and hatred, rear up on her hind legs before stomping down with both hooves. There was no sound but a soft squish as the Hisser met its demise. Working quickly, Bossy pawed at the straw behind the bale to make a hiding place for the hideous little mess, nudging the body into place and covering it with more loose straw. Panting and sweating with exertion and glee, she trotted to the barn door and then, reaching the door, she realized that she should look like she had real business in the barn so she went back and grabbed a mouthful of hay, and walked out of the barn, chewing slowly. She found a shady spot and laid down, slowly chewing, chewing. Two weeks ago she had chased one down exiting the barn with a mouse in its mouth. The stupid thing thought she was playing some kind of game, so it wasn’t moving as fast as it was capable of, and she had closed in on it quickly, stomping its hindquarters. It let out an ear piercing shriek, whipped around and actually SCRATCHED her before she could stomp it to death. Although the scratch was deep and painful, it added to Bossy’s excitement and pleasure, as she licked the wound and tasted her own blood. Last week she caught two of them in flagrante delicto, shrieking for all they were worth. The sound and sight of it made her blood boil. She rushed up to them, and as they tore themselves apart and ran in opposite directions she was forced to make a snap decision. She chose the one who was on top because he hadn’t completely recovered yet and was a little slower. She bore down on him with all her might, and after stomping him she found that she wasn’t quite satisfied and so proceeded to smash the remains to smithereens, until they were hardly recognizable. That time, however, she had glanced over to see one of the nosy herd, an old busy-body of a cow, looking across at her curiously from the field. She hurriedly covered the remains with straw and headed out to graze with the others, ignoring busy-body’s mooed inquiry about what she had been doing thrashing about by the barn.

Each one of these encounters left her hungrier and hungrier. She had hoped that by now her incessant anger would have left her, but to her surprise it would trickle back stronger each time. So as she strolled toward the barn she hoped with all her cow might that she would catch a Hisser. As she trotted past the old abandoned car, she heard a soft mewling sound. Whipping her head around and grinding to a halt, she saw a fat white Hisser moving stealthily toward the car, and realized that it wasn’t the Hisser making the sound but whatever was in the car.

What’s in the car?

For the past two weeks, Bossy has been trying to get near the abandoned car. With tears of frustration in her large soulful eyes, she has watched the white Hisser move in and out of the car, always checking to see if there are any threats. But Bossy hasn’t been able to get near it. The stupid little micro-humans have decided to play around the car, and they have discovered whatever it is that has intrigued Bossy. Bossy knows that if she were to put her hoof down, go over and start stomping young humans, it would mean the death of her. She’s no dumb cow. So she bides her time, waiting, waiting. Choking back a sob, Bossy throws her head back and lets out a slow, mournful moo. If she doesn't smash something soon, she will lose her mind, and she knows it.

Confrontation

It’s deep into the night, only a few hours before dawn. The moon was full and lustrous in a clear sky. Bossy has been planning this for weeks, and she has been praying that she’s not too late; that that which lives in the car is still there and she will be able to satisfy her lust. She knows that this confrontation will be worth all the weeks of tears, frustration and agony that she has suffered. She had lost her appetite, and the vet had been summoned, probing her, forcing things up her rear and adding to her humiliation. Several weeks ago she decided to channel all of that energy into a foolproof plan that would end in the annihilation of  that which lives in the car.

The plan was simple. Wait until late at night, then wander out to the car. Bossy, being no dumb cow, knew in her evil heart that that which lives in the car were most likely helpless infants. She would quickly dispatch the mother, in her sleep, preferably, then lure the little ones out with a few drops of milk from her swollen udders. Bossy had refused to be milked for the past week, and her udders were finally engorged to the point of leaking. She would allow them to congregate under her, then quickly stomp them to death and return to the barn, keeping one of the tiny bodies as a souvenir. She didn’t think she would get another opportunity like this for some time. Lately, there had been talk in the barn. The other cows averted their eyes and avoided her, pushing their curious calves away. She had overheard a funky little goat telling another that “the old cow’s mind stinks.” She decided that she had business with him too, but this first.

Under a clear moonlit night, Bossy quietly sauntered toward the car. The grass had grown quite high around it, and for a fleeting moment she felt a bit of apprehension that the grass may be obscuring something, but she ignored it. Closer, closer, and as she came within 20 feet or so of the car she felt a warm flow of urine down her back leg, escaping from her excitement. She stopped and let it pass, so as not to make a sound. Then closer, closer. 10 feet. 5 feet. Shhhhhhhhh. Shhhh. Suddenly there was a whooshing sound to her right. As she whipped her large head around to check it, she felt a ripping, tearing sensation on her left flank. Whipping around, she saw at least a dozen large hissers closing in on her with murderous yellow eyes, just as one of them leapt from the top of the car and landed on her face, all claws, teeth and energy. Bellowing, she stomped blindly in all directions hoping to catch one, and at the same time she felt tearing sensations all down her back, where several had landed, and needle teeth burrowing into her throat. Too late, she saw at least another dozen zooming in on her from the right, and staggered as they hit her side, seemingly all at once, clawing and tearing. Bossy’s mind went blank. This was not supposed to be happening to her. She had it all planned, it was supposed to be simple. How could they have known; how could they have been so organized? Bossy bellowed and whipped as best she could through her haze of pain, and finally lost her footing and fell really hard onto her side. With a fleeting moment of satisfaction she realized that she had crushed at least two of them under her massive body, but the satisfaction was quickly replaced by agony as she felt needle teeth and claws tearing into her underside and ripping her udders apart. Oh, the pain, the pain. She made an attempt to rise to her feet again, and the last two things she saw before she was blinded by ripping paws were the white faces of the other cows looking out into the night, then the full moon winking out. Weakened by the loss of blood and by pain, Bossy gave up and laid her head down, losing consciousness as her enemies continued their assault on her prone body. In the moonlit night, the tiny yellow eyes of that which lives in the car peeked out of the car and mewled at the victory of their kind, knowing somehow, that they were safe.