Tuesday, April 16, 2013


I could tell that they were working from the way the dance floor slowed down and the colors of the disco-lights were changing like those of the rainbow. Red was violet, blue was yellow and indigo was pink. Hold on, was pink in that list? “Never you mind” said the hippie in the corner. “Just give in to it. Don't fight it, accept it”. I pretended not to hear him and sat down heavily in the chair and I started to feel the colors. Michelle came back with the drinks and set them down on the table and handed me a cold one. Her beautiful face came into view and her lips came even closer. Contact. Colors exploded in my closed eyes and a rush of blood ensued. I withdrew breathlessly and she motioned to follow her outside. The jingle of her car keys was a good sign.

Back at her place, she dropped her keys on the rug and showed me around. Not that there was anything much to show around. There were buckets of crimson and white paint on the floor, a print of Le Chat Noir ready to be hung and a single futon with pristine white sheets in the corner. Michelle came back from the kitchen with a bottle of red wine; I could tell it was the cheap supermarket stuff even with the chemicals raging in my blood. I smiled and I accepted the glass and tilted it slowly back. She kept talking; an endless torrent of chatter. At some point the words stopped making sense. Her mouth slowed down at times and at other times it seemed like the words themselves took a form of their own. I sneaked a glance at her watch as she refilled my glass.
2 am.

I gratefully accepted the glass and pulled her down onto me. She laughed mirthfully and called me a drunk. She kissed me deeply and sank onto her futon and without another word slumbered into a deep sleep. The wine didn't go well with the stuff the hippie had offered. My stomach lurched and I half-stumbled to the newly finished bathroom and cradled the toilet as my body heaved. Back and forth. I flushed and then collapsed into the tub. I've never slept with the lights on, but this night was the exception.

A stream of sunlight woke me up in the morning and I found a handwritten note on my person. I squinted and read it. “Sorry, I didn't quite get your name...Stacey was it? I have work to get to. Last night was certainly interesting. There's some leftover salad and mash in the fridge if you are game. I think you can find your way back home, yeah?
I crawled out of the bathtub and walked out into the hall. Without thinking I took a swig of the wine from last night's bottle. I looked around and noted for the first time, the wooden panels leading to the kitchen. I looked at the bottle of alcohol in my hand. And I noted the lighter and pack of cigarettes near Michelle's futon. My eyes darted back to the bottle and then the lighter.

The hippie in the corner confirmed what I had been thinking all along. “Yep, Norwegian Wood.”

1 comment:

Vyaas said...

Ecstasty-lesbo remix of a Beatles Classic! More reinterpretations!