Thursday, October 20, 2011

Oktober the Twentieth: Dear J

Well, this is fiction that's pretty close to the bone, so to speak. It's super short, but I think it tells as much of a story as it needs to.

 And, it's up earlier than usual, 'cause I'm heading out to a Salon tonight, to drink and discuss the universe with like minds.



Dear J

By Mari Kozlowski

“Dear J—

  Let’s get this straight, finally, so you’ll stop giving ME the dirty looks when I walk into the joint I always went to, every weekend and Tuesdays, before I met you somewhere else and introduced you to my “Cheers, ” a move, BTW, that I’ll always regret.

 You were the one talking romance instead of just sex. Remember how you kept me on the phone for 2 hours, telling me how much I’d LOVE Boston and how you’d like to take me there?

 You were the one who never had birth control on hand. Not surprising, since you don’t know how to use a condom properly and refuse to learn.

 You were the one that passed out drunk while I was going down on you. And I have it on good authority that I do a damn decent job.

 You were the one who got us pulled over by the police for smoking a joint while driving.

 In short, you are the asshole here, not me. Except insofar as it took me a couple of the worst weeks of my life to figure it out, and another one to make you realize I that I had figured it out.

 So, either keep the fuck out of my place, or treat me politely. A simple nod or “Hey” will suffice. And stop telling people I’m harassing you by my very presence. It’s not like I’m seeking you out and trying to get back into your pants again.

          Why would I???  


   The girl with the black hair whose mailbox you ran over.”

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