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Normal Is What Normal Does

By: wilstonegreen

Page 1, How it ends

So there I was, writing on the walls,
when she came through the door
after a long day at work. She looked
around; a curious frown covered
her pale yet beautiful face.
“What is this?” she asked.
“It’s for you, babe,” I told her.
“Why are you naked?” she
continued. “My clothes bore me.”
She went to the kitchen,
poured a large glass of wine, and
then returned and sat on the couch.
“This has to stop,” she said.
“What’s that, babe?”
“You’re going insane.”
“Sanity is what sanity does, babe.”
“And what you’re doing is insane.”
She took a hit from her glass
of white and then a long deep breath.
“I try to make excuses for you,”
she said. “I really do, I try so hard to
explain your behaviour to my
friends and my family. I tell
them you’re a genius.”
“That’s right, babe.”
“But I’m running out of excuses.
My father wants me to marry a
doctor, he says I can do better
than you.”
“You can do better than all
of us, babe.”
“Why are you writing on the walls
again?” she asked.
“The words wouldn’t come out, babe, 
so I thought I’d keep them in.”
“In the house?” 
“Right here, babe.”
“And what else have you been
doing today, while I have been
working to pay the rent?”
“Talking on the phone, babe.”
“Your phone doesn’t work.”
“There was someone there, babe.”
She buried her head in her hands. Her
long golden hair covered her shoulders
in much the same way that a waterfall
covers the side of a mountain.
“What else?” she asked.
“I masturbated three times
today, babe, it was great.”
“You’re too far gone, I’ve had enough!”
“There’s never enough, babe,
it all just keeps coming, it
has to keep coming, babe.”
“I’ve had enough of you!
I’m leaving you, Donnie.
I need a normal life.”
“Normal is what normal
does, babe.”
She began to cry. Her tears
fell from her eyes to her knees,
wet and black with mascara.
She looked up at me, and I
could see that she was broken.
“I’m sorry, Donnie,
I just can’t do this, I love you
so much but I just can’t do this
And then she was gone and
I went back to writing
on the walls.
Most people can’t take the
corners, they need a straight
line from birth to death.
Occasionally, when the boredom
is kicking, some people think
they can take a few bends, but
they’re kidding themselves.
They play with fire but only
until it gets too hot.
That’s what I’m here for,
to burn the curious back
into line.

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