Eight Days to Go - SpamFic
Jan. 4th, 2007 03:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kricketsI totally stole this idea from The Resident. Do you ever get those weird spam e-mails in which there's some fucked up prose written inside them? To lure you in? Oftentimes there's not even an attachment or any adverts enclosed, just these crazy, rambling, incoherent, half-sentences. I decided it'd be fun to put some of that together for my own story - cut and paste into something semi-coherent. Obviously, I've taken liberties with the pronouns and tenses. I cast Foxy in the lead role because I can. It would have been better, but I ran out of spam mail.
Eight days to go.
Before I left, Annie brought me another Pepsi, a box of Ritz crackers, sardines, cheese, whiskey and cigarettes. It seemed to offer an escape from much that was unpleasant - a last reunion so to speak.
"You told her you wouldn't read her letters," she said.
"I suppose I'll apologize when you tell me about him," I replied.
She stood there for moment, apron on, all lace and ribbons, and big diamonds on her fingers, hands fisted on hips, then stalked back toward the house.
I knew everything about Tony but his name, which I later plucked from a telephone book. I had laid aside my ammunition - belt factory and rifle... evidence. But my pistol I kept in my lap beneath my hand.
She'll be sorry for him, I knew. But she never says anything. "Well, I'll have to chance that," I said to myself.
Accidents happen. We make our own life and our own rules out here. It was time to stop playing games and get down to business.
The wind which sang dismally around me reminded me. The image came to me - Evelyn's naked body floating in the downstairs tub like a piece of raw dough, head reclining aslant against the porcelain, open eyes staring up at the ceiling. I had liked that blue-eyed Irish girl who'd married that young scamp. Her eyes were dark and deep, like small and precious diamonds lying upon the darkest jeweller's felt. He had deserted her in her hour of need, but he would yet make amends.
I did not mention any of these things to Annie. I knew it was unnecessary.
I travelled anxiously. Sleep had banished fatigue. There was a grove of the polpettone trees close by and I waited there. Two hours later, when the leaves on the trees were wet with dew, I jimmied the bedroom window open for the second time. Knowing that it lead to Tony made the idea of torching the place seem momentarily more rational.
He had been waiting for me. In that moment, all of those myths about heroism and strength melted away. He said nothing, just leaned over to retrieve his gun. Though I had the gun ready, I found myself trembling with fear as he came slowly towards me. I was so preoccupied with not screaming that for a moment I lost the ability to think clearly. I raised my pistol dramatically to his heart. I felt safer already.
Eight days to go.
Before I left, Annie brought me another Pepsi, a box of Ritz crackers, sardines, cheese, whiskey and cigarettes. It seemed to offer an escape from much that was unpleasant - a last reunion so to speak.
"You told her you wouldn't read her letters," she said.
"I suppose I'll apologize when you tell me about him," I replied.
She stood there for moment, apron on, all lace and ribbons, and big diamonds on her fingers, hands fisted on hips, then stalked back toward the house.
I knew everything about Tony but his name, which I later plucked from a telephone book. I had laid aside my ammunition - belt factory and rifle... evidence. But my pistol I kept in my lap beneath my hand.
She'll be sorry for him, I knew. But she never says anything. "Well, I'll have to chance that," I said to myself.
Accidents happen. We make our own life and our own rules out here. It was time to stop playing games and get down to business.
The wind which sang dismally around me reminded me. The image came to me - Evelyn's naked body floating in the downstairs tub like a piece of raw dough, head reclining aslant against the porcelain, open eyes staring up at the ceiling. I had liked that blue-eyed Irish girl who'd married that young scamp. Her eyes were dark and deep, like small and precious diamonds lying upon the darkest jeweller's felt. He had deserted her in her hour of need, but he would yet make amends.
I did not mention any of these things to Annie. I knew it was unnecessary.
I travelled anxiously. Sleep had banished fatigue. There was a grove of the polpettone trees close by and I waited there. Two hours later, when the leaves on the trees were wet with dew, I jimmied the bedroom window open for the second time. Knowing that it lead to Tony made the idea of torching the place seem momentarily more rational.
He had been waiting for me. In that moment, all of those myths about heroism and strength melted away. He said nothing, just leaned over to retrieve his gun. Though I had the gun ready, I found myself trembling with fear as he came slowly towards me. I was so preoccupied with not screaming that for a moment I lost the ability to think clearly. I raised my pistol dramatically to his heart. I felt safer already.