Saturday, June 18, 2016

Death and Night

Death and Night were obliged to share a room after their brother, Morning, was born.

Death sat smoking a cigarette, bad-mouthing Morning. "Fuck that little bastard. They think the sun shines out of his ass." 

"Did you wear my black sweater again, bitch?" asked Night, fuming. The neck is all stretched to shit." Frowning, she tossed it on the bed.

"Well excuse me, Your Highness," drawled Death. "See if I ever loan you a tampon again." 

Death and Night were sisters, but while Night was always being invited to every soiree, Death only got random attention from tubercular poets who thought she was a Goth.

"Morning, you little ray of sunshine, come in here and let your sissy give you a nice hug."

"Piss off, Death." 

Death ignored him and dragged on her ciggie. "I think I'm adopted," she complained to Night. And fuck your stupid sweater. Things aren't meant to last forever, yanno."

Night was too busy smearing moisturizer onto her skin to answer, obsessed as always with her sensitivity to sunlight and her insomnia.

Death and Night were sisters. Night was beautiful and mysterious. Their brother Morning was the very definition of youthful charm. As for Death, people avoided her and said she smelled bad. She got fired from Lowe's for making all the flowers wilt. It's sad, but there it is. As soon as Night left to go take a shower, Death picked up her black sweater and pulled furiously at it, really fucking it up good. Then she sat down, lit another cigarette, and smiled like a serene-ass Madonna in a painting.
_________ 

for the mini-challenge.

16 comments:

brudberg said...

Great depiction of that sisterly affection that's not... I have a feeling I will stay away from death as well.

Kerry O'Connor said...

I never had a sister, but I have two daughters... this conversation rings all too true. Haha! loved it!

Therisa's World said...

For a moment, this poem felt like, it was describing the relationship, I had with my younger brother, growing up. Down right spooky. And yes, he destroyed, what he couldn't take, of mine.

TexWisGirl said...

you make me laugh. :)

Gillena Cox said...

where jealousy grumbles there certainly no gain; so much truth in this witty one

much love...

howanxious said...

Ooh! I love it.
I can read an entire novel based on this premise.

Creatively done. :-)

-HA

Mama Zen said...

You are the most creative person alive, girl! I needed this so much I didn't even realize that I needed it.

hedgewitch said...

Only you could write this, Shay. I love how you've voided every possible cliche, and tuned the poetic sideways, as well as making me so glad I was not drinking coffee as I read. I love this line especially: "...Death only got random attention from tubercular poets who thought she was a Goth..."

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

One thing, if you're Death, you can get away with chain-smoking.

Love it like mad.

Outlawyer said...

Ha. A lot of fun here, smiling.

ellen abbott said...

oh well, Death will get her revenge in the end.

jabblog said...

Oh, well done! This really made me smile and I loved this: 'Death only got random attention from tubercular poets who thought she was a Goth.' Hilarious . . .

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Only you could have thought this one up. I am grinning like a fool. It is too wonderful!

Susie Clevenger said...

Oh, I have two sisters. I was the middle one always trying to make peace until I said "fuck it" and let them fight on.

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Brilliant! Made me smile and giggle.
Anna :o]

K9friend said...

I laughed at loud at the final stanza. The words you weave together are amazing!

Pat
Critter Alley