Post by Sasha on Sept 1, 2008 10:03:38 GMT -7
The first three sections were derived from a much longer piece. C:
If you would like to see the larger piece, PM me.
I'll give character descriptions only when you ask for them, and only by PM. Sometimes knowing the characters kills it for people. <3
Glass of Milk – Spilt
If you spill a glass of milk, in my house, you get yelled at. In my house, we don’t have carpet, so it’s not God-awful, but still quite a terrible deed to do. If you spill a glass of milk, and get it on your fingers, you’re called a cow. I don’t know why. Cows don’t have fingers, I’m sure, and is it possible for them (if they had fingers) to get milk on them when they spill it? In other words, they don’t drink milk out of glasses through straws. They have their udders, which is kind of like a straw, you say, but I refill your glass to keep you quiet. What I mean, I say, is that it does not make sense for people to call you a cow when you spill your milk. You cow. Honestly. You’re not supposed to cry over spilled milk, you cow. But you do it anyway, and they and I watch warily. I know I’m no good when people cry. Are they good? I look at them, but they don’t respond. I guess not.
Glass of Milk – Empty
I’ve been watching them for hours, and I’m glad they haven’t turned their blank eyes on me, catching me staring and foaming at the lips. We went to the desert, watching for travelers. They were. I was looking at them the entire time. They never turned away from their jobs. Their jobs that God gave them? No, you tell me, I doubt God would give anyone a job quite like this. You’re getting intelligent, hiking with us in the heat, and they don’t smile anymore. Their faces wrinkle deeply in their skin, creating black, immoral frowns that slobber trails and trails of saliva down their chins like great hairy dogs. The heat is unbearable, it would be. I would be sweating my ass off if it wasn’t for the air conditioning. You don’t have an ass, they tell me. We didn’t bring an ass this time. I look to them for directions and explanation, but I don’t understand. It won’t be this way.
Glass of Milk – Full
This is boring, you say, there’s no one this far into the desert. For fun we take turns, walking circles in the sand before approaching the van and saying, milk please? They fill my pitcher and I fill your glass, but when it’s your turn, they watch you fill both. Why don’t they help you? It’s not natural, they coo. I still don’t understand, I tell them. It’s alright, I don’t understand it either, you say. You smile and clap happily. We continue our game, except I make sure there are full pitchers by the time it’s your turn. Luckily, they don’t notice, and think you’re drinking all that milk. As if you would drink all of that milk. What’s in this milk, you ask. I’ve never had anything like it. I don’t tell you. We need ice, you tell me, but they stand in front of the ice and don’t let me get any. Sorry, I say, they’re being asses. They remind me that we didn’t use any asses, we drove.
If you would like to see the larger piece, PM me.
I'll give character descriptions only when you ask for them, and only by PM. Sometimes knowing the characters kills it for people. <3
Glass of Milk – Spilt
If you spill a glass of milk, in my house, you get yelled at. In my house, we don’t have carpet, so it’s not God-awful, but still quite a terrible deed to do. If you spill a glass of milk, and get it on your fingers, you’re called a cow. I don’t know why. Cows don’t have fingers, I’m sure, and is it possible for them (if they had fingers) to get milk on them when they spill it? In other words, they don’t drink milk out of glasses through straws. They have their udders, which is kind of like a straw, you say, but I refill your glass to keep you quiet. What I mean, I say, is that it does not make sense for people to call you a cow when you spill your milk. You cow. Honestly. You’re not supposed to cry over spilled milk, you cow. But you do it anyway, and they and I watch warily. I know I’m no good when people cry. Are they good? I look at them, but they don’t respond. I guess not.
Glass of Milk – Empty
I’ve been watching them for hours, and I’m glad they haven’t turned their blank eyes on me, catching me staring and foaming at the lips. We went to the desert, watching for travelers. They were. I was looking at them the entire time. They never turned away from their jobs. Their jobs that God gave them? No, you tell me, I doubt God would give anyone a job quite like this. You’re getting intelligent, hiking with us in the heat, and they don’t smile anymore. Their faces wrinkle deeply in their skin, creating black, immoral frowns that slobber trails and trails of saliva down their chins like great hairy dogs. The heat is unbearable, it would be. I would be sweating my ass off if it wasn’t for the air conditioning. You don’t have an ass, they tell me. We didn’t bring an ass this time. I look to them for directions and explanation, but I don’t understand. It won’t be this way.
Glass of Milk – Full
This is boring, you say, there’s no one this far into the desert. For fun we take turns, walking circles in the sand before approaching the van and saying, milk please? They fill my pitcher and I fill your glass, but when it’s your turn, they watch you fill both. Why don’t they help you? It’s not natural, they coo. I still don’t understand, I tell them. It’s alright, I don’t understand it either, you say. You smile and clap happily. We continue our game, except I make sure there are full pitchers by the time it’s your turn. Luckily, they don’t notice, and think you’re drinking all that milk. As if you would drink all of that milk. What’s in this milk, you ask. I’ve never had anything like it. I don’t tell you. We need ice, you tell me, but they stand in front of the ice and don’t let me get any. Sorry, I say, they’re being asses. They remind me that we didn’t use any asses, we drove.
