Cut and Coo
Cut and Coo
by matt ronquillo
I get two frozen pizzas and some Cokes and some big waters and the total according to the checker lady I like is like $18.65 until I say “Oh really?” and key in the card number for the discount, which sounded a lot funnier (the reply) at the time because of my timing but now seems cliche, because it was, because my personality is usually exercised by my saying something stupid and smiling with a hint of I’m aware that I’m acting like this and I don’t really know why I’m doing it but if you try to patronize me I can reflect that shit into levels I don’t even understand and therefore have no real scope of the danger I’m going to face when I finally have to address that I’ve been looking at mirrors facing one another my whole life and entertaining the thought that the figures getting progressively smaller might actually be other beings I try to outwit, so come at me if you want because I’ve been practicing. But this lady genuinely finds me somewhat amusing so it creeps me out I’m thinking defensive shit like that.
Try to pull out a pen to sign the credit receipt cause she can’t find one but all I got I notice as I pull it out is my X-ACTO shank which is disguised as a pen (all clickable and clipable), so I let her keep on looking for a real one behind the counter and don’t bring mine out into plain view because I don’t want to look threatening.
And so I blow that illusion by telling the lady I like her so much right now that if she finds a pen I’ll write her a little love letter on the back of that receipt and sign it appropriately on the front and if she couldn’t find a pen for me to write it with I’d be glad to use this horseshit grift I call a personality to coo at her and would really mean it when I held her and kissed her neck and whispered that she was everything to me, and while I reached across the counter and locked her in with the one arm and began to etch into her back how much I appreciated her letting me in like this, I’ tell her I cant help that it’s so rotten and loud where I just came from and that I require passion like this from time to time to leave those voices merely whimpering.
This is a very strange story. I like it.
strange indeed. very funny but that last paragraph scared me a little. i like it a lot.
I like it too. Maybe because I know those mirrors too well, and all the rest. It’s like an invisible intimacy with a representation of reality, but carried out in the presence of the reality being represented, which is entirely unaware of the private intimacy being conducted, but is perhaps carrying on with its own invisible reality just the same. And somehow it all gets transformed into the little niceties and poorly concealed glares that constitue social relations. Weird. But it’s a good story.
strange, but as always, you are awesome.