Sunday, January 5, 2014

A World With No Belts

He loves both slow, romantic, moon-lit strolls on the beach and sprinting, wildly down the beach frothing at the mouth like a rabid dog.

She prefers folding and unfolding all of the linen in the house on a daily basis, though she is considering reducing this to a weekly activity so she can fit in more first-person shooter games.

He needs to drink five cups of tea every morning or else he is a monster to deal with at work; a big furry, cuddly monster who is one huge hairy ball of cuteness. 

She dreams of a world with no belts.

He washes his car every Sunday using long, rhythmic, powerful strokes. It is awe-inspiring and stunning to behold. He could have been an incredible tennis player or possibly a world famous artist, which explains why he weeps uncontrollably while he washes.

She fries egg after egg after egg often as many as 12 a day and then spends the time afterwards rating and comparing them using a complex 15-item, 10-point scale she developed in her search for perfection. Subconsciously she is just trying to please her father.

He sits in his chair, drumming his fingers, furling and unfurling his brow,  ritualistically breathing in and out, clearing his throat, suppressing the desire to scream and plotting his next move. No wonder he hasn't been able to either find a willing opponent nor finish a game of checkers in years.

She often goes for walks in the forest, trying to get away from the hustle and bustle of her life, imagining herself with comically large, bushy eye brows.

He can rattle off lyrics of rare country and western songs which bothers his group of heavy-metal loving classmates in his Friday afternoon pottery class.

She loves brushing and styling her hair. She will often allow her hair to become so tangled and stringy that she has to literally attack it with every brush, comb and conditioner that she owns. When she finally styles it perfectly, she rises slowly from her chair, brush held above her head triumphantly, sweat dripping from her face, her arch-enemy vanquished once again, she then falls to her knees and starts slowly allowing her hair to become knotted and tangled once again.

He sits alone in the dark waiting for the others to sit with him.

She once wrapped herself entirely in slices of cheese and ate herself out. This gave her a sense of accomplishment unlike any she had felt before (although similar to when she wrapped herself in cured meats) and also a really yucky tummy.

He rehearsed his routine for days, perfecting each step, reminding himself to smile with his eyes, carrying himself like a champion, waiting for the spotlight that never came. Then he remembered the community theatre never purchased a spotlight, opting for a new espresso machine instead which immediately broke. He stood backstage punching the wall, angry at his missed opportunity and the fact he would never have another incredible espresso from that machine again. 

She daydreams of fantastic backyard parties - everybody is invited - the ladies from the office, her dentist, the guy who delivers her newspaper, her sister. She is always on the other side of the gate, watching the fun, hoping to be let in, wondering why they needed to use four different locks to keep her out and bewildered by how they procured her yard without her permission.

He eats with his eyes and sees with his mouth. This makes even the most boring dinner REALLY exciting and socially awkward.

She only draws pictures of rainbows - she just loves them so much. Except for the red part, that just makes her so jealous.

He goes for long runs in the evenings - the rush of wind in his hair, the time to think, the sheer amount of goosebumps. To battle the boredom, he only listens to audiotapes of his German teacher from his youth loudly and abruptly clearing her throat.

She loves knitting. So much so that she has learned to make scarfs and legwarmers. Then she decided to knit a long poncho that she wore all the time. Due to the comfort and the aesthetics, she spent one crazy weekend drinking pot after pot of Earl Grey tea and knitting. The end result was a large quilt that covered everything in her apartment. It was so beautiful, but it was hard to tell where the poncho ended and the wall and floor coverings began.

He has decided to eat more things in sauce-form.

She called her favourite radio show in an attempt to win a contest. Unfortunately she was so nervous she could only let out a series of beeps and clicks. Later that evening she had a knock on her door and there was a large gathering of men with horn-rimmed glasses and pocket protectors trying to do her taxes.

He smiles.

She yawns.



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