On the wall

Mirror, mirror on the wall
who will be my next victim after all.
That stupid choo-choo train that chugs along
Or the clang, clang, crash of mom’s dishes
“Buttons” knocked on the floor.
Oh no, John, not again!
Stupid cat.
Or the swish, swish of people’s feet outside my house.
Wobble, wobble, swish, swish, clang, clang, chug a lug, choo-choo, ooh, ooh, la la, dada, nana. Noisy sounds that plague my mind.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
I am my next victim after all.

In the Land of MAC

The Lord is my crash test dummy I shall not wiggle.
He maketh me lie down in green back seats:
He leadeth me in the paths of here for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the MAC counter at Macy’s, I will fear no evil:
For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou annointest
My head with oil; my noodles runneth over.
Surely goodness and shoes shall scratch me all of the days of my life:
And I will manipulate in the house of Jupiter forever.

My life as a former head piece

Do you believe in reincarnation? Do you believe that you can be anything in the world if you
want to be? Well, I was. But not what I wanted to be. I was one of the snakes on Medusa’s head.
She was so vindictive. Our reaction, you know, all of the snakes on her head, were solely based
on the mood she was in. When she was angry, we hissed at onlookers. When she was ecstatic, we
smiled and shook our rattlers. We were supposed to be a symbol of death to all that crossed her
path, but we weren’t really. All we were, and this might surprise you, was princesses from
foreign lands. That woman may have been a “Greek goddess,” but she wouldn’t look into the
future like many thought.
She was just some insane washed up beauty, who like the evil stepsisters in “Cinderella”
couldn’t win the love of one Price Charming so she decided to take up the art of witchcraft and
began casting spells on all those who did live in that, “…and they lived happily ever after,”
situation. She was a bitter woman. She set out seeking revenge on all the European castles
including on their precious princesses who lived inside. How you may ask? She transformed
them into serpents and placed them upon her head, laid upon her feet and coiled the rest around
her arms, all 101 of us.
This off the wall woman managed to poison us by taking some evil concoction and
spreading it around our rose gardens. She knew we couldn’t resist picking flowers in our garden.
It calmed our minds and heightened our spiritual awareness.

So why didn’t this potion effect our male servants? We all started to converse, in snake
speak of course, while sitting upon Medusa’s head and came to realize she made it to effect only
women, rich women, beautiful women.
I am princess of Godiva, like the chocolates. It’s a small kingdom that harvests corn and
grows water lilies and red roses. I was born of royalty, laced with a red rose gown and golden
blonde hair and blue eyes. I mesmerized onlookers. Many of the others were the same hair,
royalty with blonde hair and blue eyes. Each one more radiant than the last. These girls were
from kingdoms that were known, but small enough that if the girls were missing it would take
awhile for anyone to truly take notice.
One day all of us became tired of Medusa’s evil ways. Perhaps, because she made many
think she was all powerful when in reality her cauldron was more powerful than her pinky finger.
We all tricked that women into turning us back into our former selves again.
I know you’re wondering how we could do such a thing. But we did. It was simple. Once
she was asleep, we whispered softly into her ear, all one hundred and one of us. We whispered of
the times when she was kind and gentle. We whispered of our husbands and of the armies who
were set out to take a bow and arrow to the base of her heart and the top of her head. We let her
stew in her own thoughts and nightmares. We let her become insane that believe the only way
out, the only way to sanity, was to let us go, to let us be free. She scrambled frantically one day,
beating her head up against the wall and cast a spell while doing it. We all began to fall off as she
hit up against the wall, falling fast to the ground and all at once becoming ourselves again.
And, that’s how I am able to tell my story today. Not many will ever be able to say they
were a snake on a madwoman’s head, but I can. Oh, but I can.

West of Tip Top

Once upon a time, long, long ago in a far away land. Scratch that. Just kidding. It was
last week inside the brothel, which coincidentally was located across the street from the porn
shop and behind the church with the bells that constantly rang, that Heidi decided to give up her
job as the local mortician and become an exotic dancer at the Tip Top brothel. No more
beautifying dead guys now she would make guys gasp at the sight of her illuminating lips and
voluptuous body and derrière.
Heidi was one of those girls you never really talked about or spoke to, you’d just sit there
and stare, burning a hole straight through her. She lived in an apartment on West 82nd street, in
the seedy part of town. It didn’t matter what town. What mattered was that Heidi was stuck.
Forever stuck. Helga, her apartment manager, was so strict, she couldn’t and wouldn’t let poor
Heidi have any animals. That didn’t matter anyway. Heidi kept Cuddles, her Peruvian pet pig in
the kitchen and Quakers, her manatee, in her porcelain bathtub. Both were females. The
hormones in that apartment raged sometimes, but it was normal. That’s what Heidi kept telling
herself that.
Every day Cuddles would escape and enter the washroom in the basement of the
complex. Once he accidentally fell into the washing machine. At least he was clean, Heidi told
Helga when she hollered at her while pointing at the “No animals allowed” sign. Underneath the
sign, it said unless for dinner. Heidi picked up her clean pig and rushed upstairs and locked her
door. She could still hear Helga bellowing through the complex. She stayed inside the apartment
for the next couple of days until she knew Helga was gone for business. She had off from the
brothel anyway.

For once, there was a surplus of girls and Heidi was glad. It must have been season. It
was when all the married men left home on a business trip looking for a holiday honey. She
wasn’t one of them. She could see the tan line that formed on their finger. It didn’t take a genius
to notice that. Most of the girls she worked with didn’t though. Then again they thought Mars
was just a candy bar and that a Mojito was an exotic form of mosquito from Brazil. Heidi didn’t
try to explain. She just did her job and left every day when her shift was through.
It was inevitable that something would go wrong. One day Quakers slowly slipped out of
the tub and managed to slither with her flippers down the hall and the stairs into Count Topper’s
humble abode. Count Topper was originally from Croatia, but he left years ago to look for a new
life in America. What he found was that royalty didn’t count here unless they were in the
public’s eye and the paparazzi were constantly outside their door. He was rich. He had money.
No one knew it though by the way he dressed. He looked like a bum. He didn’t want people to
know he had money. He wanted people to like him for who he was. It proved to be challenging
though. He became so lonely that he had his nephew moved to the United States as well. No one
minded though. He was muscular with flaxen hair and emerald eyes. He made the women go
wild.
Count Topper’s nephew was in love with Heidi and Heidi had a soft spot in her heart for
him as well, but he didn’t like her job. He wanted her for himself only, like anyone of royalty
would.
What he didn’t know was that Heidi would do anything for him. Besides, she hated the
grabby men. It was fantastic money, but it was getting old. Always with the grabbing, the
wanting and the needing of something they couldn’t have, but would never let go of. She only
wanted one man to want her that way. It would happen soon if she had her way.

It didn’t take long for Cuddles to escape again. This time he hobbled into Count Topper’s
secret space, a room full of gold coins and rum guarded by another pig named Vicious. Vicious
wasn’t really rude or mean. He just had sharp teeth that could cut into anyone’s skin. It wasn’t
hard to find Cuddles. Her squeal wasn’t soft. It could make a deaf man hear again. Dogs hated it.
It seems that Cuddles and Vicious had a budding romance. Cuddles had been escaping for
weeks. This was the only time Heidi had caught her. It worked to her advantage though. She
finally met the Count’s nephew, Tip, and after several dates they were wed. So were Cuddles and
Vicious.
It worked out in the end because Count Top gave Heidi and Tip the gold coins. All he
wanted was his precious rum. And Heidi didn’t have to work at Tip Top brothel anymore. Some
of the customers were angry, but they’d get over it. And if they didn’t, oh well. She couldn’t help
who she was. She had her ever after with Tip.
Or at least until Quakers escaped again. For a manatee, she moved quick.
But that’s another story for another time and they had a catching up to do. Lots of it.