Got any brainfloss?

[Freeky]

"I             m            e             i                                     u
                     '   x                       t         d                 a                         s
                                     c                       be                                   e . . . . . ."
                                                                               c


"Man, I've really got a nasty headache.  You got any Ibuprofen?    Thanks man.  So yeah, things are working out really well." 

h      h     t       e           r      mi                   s
                     h           p                   s           e
                                     o                            s        Oh
                                                                                       god
                                                                                                 not
                                                            NOW...




Everything is finally working out at last.  You've moved in with your best friend, who you love dearly, or you've got the perfect dream job and are making BANK, or you're finally getting that divorce you've needed since forever.  You've got some problems, sure, who doesn't?  Isn't that why friends are friends, that they allow you to gripe at them from time to time, and offer helpful advice, or at least a sympathetic ear?  You're in the best place you've been in in years, and that's what matters.

But what if it didn't?  What if you were in the best place you could possibly be ever, and your mind was caving in so quickly

"Chicka, I haven't brushed my teeth in a few days, do you think I could get some mouthwash to tide me over?  My teeth feel like they're wearing slippers..."

                                                                                                                                                                                                       that it simply didn't matter because there was no pressure valve, no balanced motor with good bearings, no safety seals that your own inner pressure just ate away at your brain?  Well, let's take a look at this poor soul, to whom this happened. 

Beverly the Top (apparently not a sex related nickname, though I never found out what it's about) is 24.  She has a daughter, and the dead beat baby-daddy is avoiding communicating with her, but circumstances have finally made him pony up child support.  She is in a relationship, nothing public, but very alternative.  This is Tucson, after all.  She had got out from under her crazy mother, troubled housemates, and other poor living conditions, and is now living in quite a fine house, with her friends/SO, which causes mixed feelings in her, since it's a secret, and her other best friend she told doesn't really approve of the situation, and doesn't understand it anyway.  One SO doesn't quite know the depth of her feelings towards her other SO, and while the other SO is aware of these feelings, and returns them, has become taciturn and difficult to approach.

"I'm totally happy, for real.  ...  UGH.  It seems like no matter how much I brush and floss, my teeth just get worse and worse.  I keep getting food stuck in there, or it seems like I do, because there's a rotten taste and am spitting something foul out of my mouth every few hours."

The problem is, her SOs are together quite frequently.  This wouldn't be a problem, she's gotten used to sleeping alone, but certain things that would doubtless bore you or I have gone into her head, and she sees the pattern.  And she's gotten lonely.  She can say some things to one SO that won't cause any problems, but they aren't the issues at heart.  Her other SO, as previously mentioned, is inaccessible to her way of seeing.  Her best friend wouldn't be able to give any help, either with advice or with sympathy. 

But let's move on.

d               e             e           el              i
                       o                s                  l              h
                s                            h                     t                         m

shut up....


Beverly is terrified.  Of everything.  She takes Pills^TM to help, and it usually works.  But sometimes she feels worse.  She feels like her mind hasn't been swabbed out in ages.

"Man, I'm starting to get some serious cavities.  Do you have any suggestions of dentists?"

Sometimes, when she feels worse, a vivid mental image comes to her suddenly, without her bidding it.  The image is a SLAP, the kind that echoes in large rooms, and it's from her SO who knows the extent of her feelings.  She knows this is ridiculous.  But part of her wonders why is it so ridiculous.  That the SO doesn't hit women? Well, yeah, true.  That you're just standing there and the SO comes sweeping around the corner with a scowl on the face and with no explanation POW? Okay, it's silly. 

h   stop       h                  i
                e               s      d          quiet
              a      shutup              l                 e  stop it

It's probably just a dosage problem.  Gotta get that fixed. 

Beverly's little girl is beautiful at 2.  She is extremely precocious, is going to be a heartbreaker, and looks like her daddy.  She's also needy and demanding little toddler, as toddlers are.  There's no point in telling people, reasons Bev, that the love of your life is a pain in the ass, because not only will they give you something that sounds, on the surface, like advice (it won't really be), they will assume she is a bad parent.  And she doesn't need other people thinking she's being a bad parent when she already thinks that about herself. Even when she runs herself to the bone she knows she ought to have done something better.  But whatever, you know, she'll grow out of it in a few years.


  "Y o u ' r e shut your
             g o i n g damn mouth
t o                                h e l l , i already
                             g i r l!"      know that


Bev the Top dances for a living.  It's the only work she can find.  She has her pride though, and stopped walking the streets a while back.  She never exactly told anyone she hung around on corners anyway, but a few probably figured it out, the unhelpful bastards.  She dances, and she makes money to put diapers on her girl's bottom and food in her girl's belly.  Sometimes, assholes come in and ask if she knows she's going to hell for working in a den of sin.  She tells them to fuck off, the customary words that mean "I have no wish to continue this conversation  Please be on your way and have a great evening"

She doesn't have friends who dance, nor have been in a strip club in years.  She also suspects that some of her friends are very oncomfotrtable discussing her workplace, so she just keeps her yap shut.

I suppose overall, there aren't a lot of drawbacks that can be seen from having no one to talk to.  It just makes things harder, all in all.


"Uuuugh, my head.  My TEEF.  Infections and abscesses for the win, man, I'm telling you.  Augh.

[Hoser McRhizzy]

 

[East Coast Hustle]

Oh, wow. Powerful stuff, Freeky.

[Mesozoic Mister Nigel]

This shit is intense. And good.

[Freeky]

Thanks, peeps.

[Triple Zero]

I just found this! Colourful writing!