Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Geritopia Soap Opera: "Carousel of Our Days"
Janice Commode hastily packed her essentials into a lunch bag and reached for the door. A frozen moment like a one-way bridge to oblivion. Her trembling hand extended, ready to touch the one last thing that had been solid and reliable in life: the heirloom doorknob, handed-down from her mother and her mother's mother, and through the ages. It was said to have been the doorknob of Bathsheba, Queen Nefertiti and Mrs. Santa Claus herself. In the 1800s, the brass knob was monogramed with the family crest "BC" --the initials of dynasty patriarch Bob Commode, the man who had made millions by selling trillions of penny whistles. The brilliant spherical handle mirrored Janice's bitter, tearful countenance with a merciless fisheye distortion. Yet, it was true to the grotesque distortion of her final days here, by Kenneth's side as he lay suffocating under a pile of leather footwear. Her only brother dead from an all-consuming shoe fetish, like the rest of the men in the family.
Edging ever closer, hand and doorknob squared off, as in a game of chicken. Hairline scratches now superimposed upon a woman's faded complexion. Fetches of stark reality testing tattered nerves. Now Janice wanted to savage the doorknob off its mountings like a Judo master gone ape-shit. So much lust for revenge wrapped up in one little pinky, in fact, that nothing was safe in her path. Not even a mouse.
to be continued....