Alicia

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A man on a "life experiment" takes you through a day of his life.

Submitted: February 05, 2014

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Submitted: February 05, 2014

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"Someone should put you in a barrel and then fill the barrel with whipped cream and then let a bunch of tiny frogs make their homes on the whipped cream. Then once the frogs are settled in, and you've almost starved to death, they put a lid on the barrel and roll it down the great hill in the center of the town." Martha stared silently through my face. "Why on earth would you say that?" she questioned. I replied, "Because I think that's what people should do to you. That's how much I hate you right now. I want you to die in a barrel of frogs and whipped cream." Martha, holding the body of her purse letting the long straps sway by her knees, shook her head. "You're insane. Goodbye." She disappeared into the barrage of civillians bustling about the metro. That was the last time I ever saw Martha. Thank God. If I ever had run into her again I might have actually killed her with whipped cream and frogs. I think I'm depressed. Oh well. Delete emotions. Delete anything I'm feeling right now, positive or negative. Going on with my life. Time to go to my friend's shitty apartment and bog my body down with sodium and alcohol. Maybe I'll beat Fallout 3 again. Ooh I could play Bioshock, it's been like two weeks since I've played Bioshock. That's what I'll do. I think there's a room in the Atrium that I haven't fully explored yet.
I arrive at the apartment. My friend who owns it is named Ghreg. He spells his name with an "H" because it's his favorite letter. He has such a weird name. I should kill him because his name is so weird. Maybe not kill, but I could at least overload those smoothies that he always makes with lemon juice and give him stomach ulcers. No. He'd notice that. A parasite will do. I'll go buy some raw meat, and mix that in his tuna sandwich that he makes every day. After a few days, he'll be feeling like one of those little African kids with the rib cages on TV. Ghreg...I enter the apartment and he's doing yoga on a tiny purple mat on the floor. If Ghreg were a food he'd be a salad, hold the ranch and croutons. "Hi Alicia," Ghreg says, "there's some leftover eggwhite in the fridge if you're hungry. I literally couldn't hold anymore." Ghreg wasn't being mean or cute. Yes, I am a man. Yes my name is Alicia. Don't like that? Good, no one does. Except Ghreg. He's very accepting and nice. And that's why I have to kill him. I have to kill him becuase he politely says "Good morning" every goddamn morning. Not because he's a local terrorist must I take this carb free little man's life, but because he believes ignoring the bad is the correct way to live. I've only lived with Ghreg for a week and I already hate him. It took me years to get that far with my parents. Ghreg must really be special.
Before I lived with Ghreg I stayed in random little shit holes spread out across New York. Grungy, disgusting mass pallets for the homeless. I'm not homeless and I never will be. Just because I am occasionally without traditional living quarters doesn't mean I'm homeless. My parents are rich. It's not like this is my only option. I just like street folk better than my family. Street folk never expect anything from you. If you so much as tell them they dropped their wallet they will treat you like you saved them from a plane crash. They don't get pissed when you sleep through Christmas dinner. I'm not alive to own things or be a certain way that some guy I'm supposed to respect on TV is telling me to be. I'm not here to be able to afford dental care. If happiness truly comes within, I am going to know. Maybe not yet, but eventually. This is a life experiment. If I find out that I don't need things or respect or status to be happy, my future book will sell millions and change lives. If not working and moving around eating from trash cans doesn't make me happy, well I guess I'll fix myself a drano cocktail or something. "Ghreg," I say, "do you mind turtles?" Ghreg looks puzzled. "Of course not. I don't mind any of the universe's creatures. They're all beautiful. Even dung beatles. Just because dung isn't the first thing I think of when I think of what makes me happy doesn't mean that a creature that does think of dung that way is in the wrong. So no, I don't mind turtles. Why?" "Well," I reply, "My old friend, goes by the name of Dad, told me he needs a place to leave his tortoise for a little while. I told him here was fine and he should be arriving any minute now with the tortoise. His name is Toaster Oven, but he goes by Toaster." Ghreg stood up from his yoga mat. He never gets off his yoga mat. Ghreg seems like he's trying to keep a ball of lava from falling out of his mouth. If he's angry there is no way I can know. All of his Zen and Bhuddism reading have him supressing all of his negative emotions.  "The tortoise may stay here, Alicia, but only for three days. And it doesn't leave its cage. Okay? I wish you had warned me about this." At least he said yes. I really want this tortoise. I need something to need me, and this is perfect for my experiment because the tortoise won't actually be mine. That way I still have no possessions or attachments to the lives of other human beings. This tortoise just might be my salvation.
I'm watching the door. Where is Dad?
KNOCK
KNOCK
Yes! He's here. My tortoise. I open the door and there stands Dad in a red snow cap. Something a cool person would wear. Much cooler than my sweat pants and T-shirt at least. "Dad!" I shout excitedly. Dad looks oddly at me. "What? I'm responding to a Craigslist advertisement. I'm Brad, the guy with the tortoise. " His name was what? Brad? What a liar. I know who you are you sack of vileness. Now go fetch my turtle! I don't want to say that to him because he might get mad and take away my tortoise - excuse me, a stranger's tortoise - but I'll be damned to hell for eternity if I ever pretend to be what I am not. "There must have been a mixup with the names. I have to ask though, where is the tortoise?" He seems to accept the words coming from my lips because he isn't too irritated. He isn't screaming or cutting me or himself so I bet he isn't infuriated by me. "Milo is in the car. I'll be right back." He takes off down the apartment stairs. Ghreg interrogates, "I thought you said his name was Toaster Oven?" "It is. He was lying." This does not go well with Ghreg. He knows I am up to something. Four men carrying a huge wooden box come walking up the stairs, flexing and breathing heavily. One of them is Dad. They take the box and set it in the living room. Ghreg jumps up in a rage. "What the fuck is this?! You never said it was a massive tortoise! There is no way this thing is fucking staying here! GET IT OUT!" All of his Zen and meditation has gone to waste. How sad yet predictable. Pushing things in the closet doesn't delete them. I turn to Ghreg, "The tortoise stays. End of the story. Got it? It will be like experiencing nature like you never have before. This will enlighten you. I promise. Plus you said three days and you are not a liar. Bhudda wouldn't approve." Ghreg shook his head."Fine. But he stays in the bathroom the WHOLE TIME." Success. Ghreg stomps off into his bedroom and I give Dad five hundred dollars that I stole from pedestrians over time. This way the pedestrians own it and not me. I'm damn smart. I crack the box open with a hammer. I notice a very foul stench rising from the box. Perfect.


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