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Mungo's Mewsing

by Mungo

Well, mom's been rather glum lately, so I though we'd try some fiction therapy on her, just like in David Foster Wallace's Here and There from Girl with Curious Cat, I mean Girl with Curious Hair. She's girl with curious cat. So, here it goes, and don't be mean to her anymore.

here. and now.

fiction therapy by mel whitehead

'I dream in one night 1,000 sleepless nights and wake up exhausted. On the phone I visualize my fear piling up around me looking like little clay devils the color of weak tea. Even they look worried about me. I put a garnish of sliced onions and lettuce of Henrey's food and have to dump it all. I've opened too many cans anyway. A ghost leaves me a message on the microwave, unreadable. TV is on, TV is off. TV is off but I hear Bart Simpson. Is he the ghost? On top of my fridge there's a loaf of wheat bread. Dishes are piled in the sink. I just wanted him to want me as much as I wanted him. I think maybe I need a shower.

'In the bright blasted out May morning sunlight, things don't look much better. The sweet smell of the cool air makes me melancholy. It's here. It's now. I can't stop thinking about him. Surely this can't be what he wanted. Surely his intention was to get me to stop. But not knowing makes it worse. I feel like I rolled over in my sleep into the wrong universe. I want to call. I crave resolution. I need a clear-cut ending. If I can't get it from him I'll make it myself.

'I don't know about guns.'

"So write what you know."

'Thursday night on the way home from work I stop at the liquor store and buy something sweet in a big bottle. I refill my most toxic prescriptions. I make arrangements for an acquaintance to come on Saturday and feed the cats. I leave them enough food till then. Saturday in case it doesn't take this time or I chicken out, or it takes longer than expected. I feel bad for the cats. They've been nice to me. I wish he would interject now like the ex-girlfriend in David Foster Wallace's Here and There and say that I don't need to get hurt like this. He thinks this ending is better than what it should have been. I think he should have told me what was going on. Not that he owes me anything. But I didn't owe him anything either and I gave him everything he asked for. I made just one request, unfulfilled. I fill the tub. I get my cd player and put on Tristan und Isolde. I bring liquor pills and razors. I want him to stop me. But how could he? He doesn't know; he's so far away.

'I'm afraid. This way is harder than a bullet.'

"Then welcome."

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