An Old Short, Short Story From 02/26/2009

Note: I found this when I was cleaning out my house, written in one of my journals. No edits, just straight to the page. Incidentally, the entry before this was from February 14, the day after I saw Hot White for the first time play. They performed at Ethan McCarthy’s 25th birthday party at FunHaus (Ethan’s DIY space right next door to Jesus Saves in downtown Denver) with one of my favorite bands ever, MOM (from Sacramento, CA).

Everyone had believed the accident was not Mimi’s fault. The town had quite gone back to normal. Hardly a fuss was made of the death of three men in a remote cabin with what is believed to be an ax, though one was never found. Not much frankly was to be found in the town anymore anyways.

Yes, the town wasn’t what it used to be but no one could find fault in someone, something or maybe some mighty external cause on which to lay blame. And so, there we stood with packed bags by the town foundation, waiting for a bus as it began to heavily snow.

“Shannon told me her family is moving to St. Alberg. It sounds nice!” I said.  jumping around to keep warm.

Kiki squinted at me and moved her mouth so her cigarette pointed upwards like a cartoon character’s.

“So what?” She spat out.

I continued to hop from foot to foot. “I don’t know…just trying to make small talk, you know? Tryin’ to stay warm.”

“Oh poor Wallin, my skinny little darling. we must fatten you up someday. Unlike so flabby, layered me.” She said and pointed at her stomach.

Kiki, though she hardly weighed more than a starched napkin forever thought of herself as flabby. I didn’t argue, for over time I had learned this wasn’t a moment to speak. Instead, I looked at her and wondered what had happened in the woods those many years ago.