That was the only thing I could think at the time. She grabbed me by the throat and threw me against the wall. I pleaded. There was a bell and the session was over. I owed $300 for god knows what.
“Next time you should stab me with your eyes!” I yelled to her when I was 30 feet away. She motioned as if she was about to start running at me and I dodged into an alleyway. There I met a man who knew what I was all about. I told him to shut up, but he managed to grab my tongue as I was speaking and he told me that he would not shut up. I told him that was reasonable. At least I attempted to.
I woke up face down in my bed. My pillow was like a sponge soaked in spit. Did it again. Over did it again is more like it. Hah hah hah. But just then my window flew open and I noticed a sound. It was the oldest woman in the world. Or it was. She just died. Making me the oldest woman in the world.
And then I could taste it. There was chocolate on my tongue, rose petals in my nose and half a dildo shoved in my ass. It was the best of times it was the worst of times. I was the oldest woman on earth and no one could take that from me but the angel of death. Or the social security office. They were always robbing me.
Usually I stay in my room. The nurses say that I’m not really the oldest woman in the world. They tell me that I’m actually only 64 and suffering from dementia. I ask them why my tears taste like my dead husband. They tell me my husband is still alive. I tell them I never married. They tell me I’m a man. I tell them that they have the wrong genitalia for moon-talkers. They shut up at that point.
Is that my cell phone? I remember setting the ringer to a Ricky Martin song, but I forget which one.