Sunday, January 18, 2009

Word to Your Mummy

I think your mummy is pretty hotUr Mummy - Niyi

She unloaded the giant jar of loose change (as opposed to "tight" change) onto the horrified State Farm Insurance agent’s desk, all $170.00 worth. The agent glanced my way as if I was going to reveal that this was indeed a joke, but I was existentially blank aside from my left hand fiddling with the collar of my faux leopard coat.

They needed time to count it, so we went to the bathroom and each dropped a hit of LSD.

Next to the bathroom was an arcade that upon entering we were promptly thrown out of for not having any ID during school hours. We were 19 and 20 respectively, and didn’t think we’d need them since we had taken the subway, so we loitered elsewhere until it was time to collect our receipt of payment from the clenched teeth on legs back at State Farm.

The acid kicked in when we arrived at the first museum. We didn’t stay long as I couldn’t take seeing those paintings trapped in frames; they just looked too painfully boxed in and my empathy was bringing on an attack of claustrophobia.

We went to a café for a drink and as we made our way to a table, she gasped behind me. I stopped without turning around and with the widest of eyes asked what was wrong.

“Jesus Fucking Christ!” She said, “For a second there, I thought I had no clothes on!”

I immediately shrieked and clasped my arms to my chest causing her then to ask me of my issue. “I just figured that if you didn’t have anything on, then neither would I” I snorted. She started to giggle too, and then we quickly stopped in suspicion of ourselves and everyone around us.

The Museum of Natural History was perfect for the next eyeful; incredibly bad taxidermy, people in long lines to see a very shiny rock, and MUMMIES! Dead encased in glass, demanding complete quiet or hushed tones. Each see through, resting place had a marker on it explaining whether a male or female resided there, where it was found, and how old it possibly was.

We and a vast group of others were encircling the one that was an unidentified female who was about 4 feet tall, and had given birth three times. Not a word was uttered as people pondered whatever it is one processes when looking at a rotted corpse from another era altogether, or any corpse for that matter.

“Someone FUCKED that!” I yelled, breaking the silence with a Ball Peen hammer.

Sounds of disgust and even the beginning chokes of vomiting were heard as hard stares focused on me and my pointed finger. Realizing I said that out loud backed me right into a fit of uncontrollable cackling. She was already on the floor crying the best kind of cry and trying to express her disbelief that I actually said that, when I suggested we dash in case I really upset someone.

As we took our exit, I looked over my shoulder at the unidentified female and hoped that she laughed that hard at least once in her short time outside the glass.

Currently listening:
Taking Drugs to Make Music to Take Drugs To
By Spacemen 3
Release date: 2003-09-23