On Set Mishap 1928

 

I, Guinivere Golde, aspiring megastar and idol of millions,

was performing in Pharaoh and the Flapper, when the wildcat

I held

on a leash

suddenly and deliberately

questioned my method and acting choices. 

Clawed to ribbons and near death

(but still achingly beautiful and scandalously erotic)

I was loaded into the world's slowest ambulance

which was 

driven by

the studio head who was wearing a chauffeur's cap

and already having me written out the role I had given it up to get.

Does that sound fair to you? Does it?

So there I was, riding in the back with the EMT

(played to great effect by Basil MacNaughton-Redfield)

and also the offending puma, who had donned a tux,

answering questions

as the EMT

did a background and got my vitals, for which I am usually

compensated well beyond scale, but this fool wanted freebies. 

Prefacing all of my responses with "survey says..." and 

fluttering my lashes as if I had some kind of coquettish palsy,

I saw lights, smelled oranges, and heard bells as we sped on.

"Hospital admin says,

every time a bell rings

an EMT gets into med school."

Thus spake my healing angel as the puma looked on impassively.

I hate it when my rescuer--and there always is one--goes off script.

Then I coded, dying like a regular Carmen in my juiciest role ever.

A girl anticipates things like this, living in a rented shoebox,

living on saltines and gin, and sleeping in a murphy bed,

but now,

O Happy Day!

it was my death scene!

My name made all the trades and my wedding to the EMT was

covered coast to coast and broadcast breathlessly on radio.

The three of us (with the puma) then staged a gala funeral on the beach!

So you see, I'm a star. 

Oh honey, you're not getting me into those ratty wings.

Who designed them, that ark guy?

Where's the phone, I need to call my agent.

(No reporters? Some tw0-bit burg this is.)

How long will I have to stay here?

I'd kill for a smoke and a publicist right about now.

Criminy. 

So this is Heaven huh?

What a dump!

______

for Word Garden Word List--13 Reasons Why. 

Music: The Hebbe Sisters It Don't Mean a Thing

Jubilant Bob

Jubilant Bob
loves you 
and describes this love in tiny notes
on the backs of postage stamps which he then uses
to send you empty hatboxes.

"Within, infinity," the eeny little card reads.


Jubilant Bob
hates it
when you sleep with a boyfriend.
He hangs himself in the vestibule of your building,
making it awkward getting to the mailbox.
Inside,
a minuscule note folded multiple times
explaining his despair.

You and your boyfriend look at each other, sigh, run upstairs, do it,
then hate yourselves, but not that much.
Love is strange.

Jubilant Bob
revives,
finds you with a girlfriend,
writes a best seller about his near death experiences, 
both from the noose and from you.
Bob requests his royalties all in pennies,
using some of them to weigh down roses
he leaves for you
on the stair.

Will you never have pity?
Will you never stop fucking around?

Jubilant Bob
gets religion,
forgives you as you stand there blinking.
"Oh for fuck's sake, Bobby," you say, stamping one boot on the pavement.
"Wake the fuck up."
He thought you were better than you are,
hates it when you curse,
and keeps a microscopic cameo of you under his tongue.

In the vestibule,
his fans,
your lovers,
and enough flowers for a parade or a funeral.
Go on, marry him.
File a sharp tongue on his stupid postage machine.
Let him feel you up every Sunday.

Feel free to regret all of it.
_________

Blood Bracelet

A blood bracelet is the best kind.
It is proof of life
and the ability to bear pain.

Before sleeping with you
in the big bed upstairs with the cuffs on the posts,
I spent six weeks living with religious lunatics
in the woods;
they had whips and crosses, 
thorns and theology.

Later, deep in the rabies dance of our mating,
I called upon the things they had taught me--
starvation without complaint,
dogma without tenderness,
and the acquired skill of animating bird carcasses with or without ceremony.

That was the key--the corpse cardinal, dead dove and rot starling,
all left on your pillow along with red script
from the blood bracelet your bite left
when you spoke to me
so ignited and
sure of redemption's need for absolute destruction as prelude.
_______ 

for bits of inspiration at real toads.

Ms. S.'s Love Song

There are gifts and then there are gifts.
Daddy gave me mine when he let me have you,
though, honestly,
he gives me most anything I want on a silver platter.

Like the runaway train said,
it's all downhill from here, baby.
Shhh, don't speak--
you'll break the mood, like men always do.
I have plans for you.

Come with me, down to the river.
Are you feeling a little light-headed?
Having trouble keeping your feet?
Just stick with me, babe.
I'm gonna roll ya,
roll ya like your back ain't got no bones.

Here we are.
Let me run my fingers through your hair.
A little touch on the top of your head
and you know what I want--
down you go, sailor.

I love the way your eyes seem to look up at me
as your head dips,
bobs,
sinks,
sated and seaworthy,
never to be thirsty again.
_______

for Get Listed at Real Toads, with Ed Pilolla. I used "river', "break", and "downhill".

picture: Cristina Scabia of Lacuna Coil