smoke, first, rolling: an exercise in fiction
Esoteric Wombat and Jason both have exceptional posts up today, Tuesday. Both posts are unique, expressive and I thought very funny, but I’m warped.
I put a post agreeing with Bill O’Reilly, Murdoch and whatever Fox, and disagreeing with some woman at The Huffington Post who thought Murdoch had made the Simpson/Regan fiasco into a First Amendment issue up at a large liberal blog. As it’s not a First Amendment issue and is a woman’s issue I was right, but still…I accomplished nothing that I had meant to do all day. It was truly a day where I lost track of time to blogging.
I believe that Bone began Three Word Wednesday, an exercise in quick writing using three pre-assigned words. Lately Bone’s been going to the edge and I like that.
Present day, somewhere in Manhattan
It wasn’t a matter of need but want. She could think of little else but how good that wiff of smoke would taste. It wasn’t something that she did often or in the presence of others. It had been a long day, but that wasn’t the reason.
Her apartment had no heat. It was freezing, and she wanted to do something socially unacceptable. First she had to do the entire La Mer skin routine. Sometime that winter she had noticed expression lines on her forehead. She did have a very expressive face that talked for her as it betrayed her emotions when she didn’t have her faux face on, the poker one used around people that she didn’t know nor cared to know.
It had been 85 degrees that morning in her bedroom. She had a thermometer, and was now 56 degrees. It took her 165 seconds to change from her monochramitic brown pants suit with olive camisole to her pink and orange home pajamas, and her orange silk robe. She brushed her hair for 100 strokes and her teeth for two minutes though she knew she would brush them again after she smoked.
She was vain, and damned if she was going to go into true middle age with bad skin, or even Botoxed skin. For somebody like her both were the worst of all sins. She felt more pride than she should when women couldn’t believe that she had no work done. Hell, despite the cold she really needed a shower that lasted exactly nine minutes, and then took 87 seconds to dry herself, put on body cream, and her clothes back on.
she cleaned her skin for 90 sesonds, put on the exfoliate, left both of the preparatory oilson for two minutes each, and slathered on the warmed moisturizer with something that resembled a miniature rolling pin for a hundred strokes..
She would have truly bored herself counting, if it hadn’t been something that she did almost sub-consciously. When she thought about it, she was amazed that she was a successful copy writer.
Then she went to the deco mirrored dressing table’s top right drawer. She took out the silver case engraved with her initials, given to her so long ago, when she was married, by her first lover. She had pretended to buy it for herself. Her husband approved. He too loved beautiful, retro things.
She lit a few Votivo candles, got into the huge four poster bed, and inhaled the joint for 72 seconds. Then 68 seconds more, then 60 seconds….She always did have great breath control.
Soon she forgot to count, stopped smoking, and actually thought about things.
ha ha
I am beginning to like Wednesdays. ;0
here, here to three word wednesday.
Happy Thanksgiving.
Funny how regimented we become. Although even I don’t count the seconds I brush my teeth.
Good story. Made me want to know what things she thought about.
Happy Thanksgiving, Pia!