Bamboo

Posted on June 1, 2009

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THE RARE AND EVER AWKWARD COINCIDENCE of a phone ringing and a door bell button being pressed simultaneously occurred. I immediately began making a complex series of plans to edit my email and respond to both solicitors. (Personal Reflection: It occurs to me now that perhaps the most pressing action should have been at the time the black carcass, although it seems then the thought of its disposal was nowhere present in my mind).

Change of tone: humorous, self-depreciating. Expository scene of a two potentially major characters: “You’re sister is in labour,” said the voice on the phone as I was greeted by a smile at the front door. It was my brother in law, Wentzel on the line and some strange new face at the awning. She took my attention, and I hung up the phone without reply.

The girl (you will come to know as Magritte) was instantly gorgeous, possessing a fibre-optic beauty. Calm eyes with a mist of eagerness and lips thin- long, naturally rouge and slightly parted to show soft but well brushed teeth. Her cheeks were long as well, and pillared inwardly to a sharp chin. Hair gushed from her scalp, all sorts of shiny colors, brown being the most abundant. I failed to gauge her age, but can grant you a range between 18 and 25. Her shoulders had a natural sway and once I picked up the rhythm, I then noticed she was wearing some sort of uniform. This matter instinctively led me to believe her to be a Girl Guide and in turn caused me to reach for my wallet. Mint cookies, there were no pockets in my boxer shorts and with that, the scene was infected by a rare excretion of my own bashfulness.

Reflection of the Moment: Love at first sight; intense desire to fu*k.

Though I stood silent and red- faced, the moment that followed allowed no indignities at all. The woman stepped in without a word or care and removed a bag from her shoulders.

“You can’t come in,” I said without any convicting intonation.

“I am in, and should stay in,” she said. “It is cold outside. It is better to explain the Bamboo indoors anyhow.”

“Yes, of course, the snow, how rude,” I say. Bamboo?

I stiffly led her into my cluttered living-room, a sight which she seemed to welcome. She took a seat on the sofa and we looked at one another as I tried to locate in my mind mind’s eye some memory of where I had left my pants. Was I worried about her discovering the dead thing and reporting me to the authorities? Or was I more worried that she would see the thing and lose any interest in allowing me entrance into her temple?

I tried to block any view of the kitchen with the shape of my body. As she slid a hand into her leather bag, I noted a galactic cluster of stars painted on each of her fingernails. Each was so detailed and real, eternal, cosmic and propitiating of the circumstances.

“It’s just, we can’t do it here,” I say suddenly so as to relieve the moment of relaxation. “My sister is giving birth.”

The girl smiled and giggled. She removed her hand from the bag allowing the stars to come alive one more time.

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Posted in: June 2009