Friday, February 10, 2006

A Depressing Parable

As the repel line slipped through the carelessly constructed harness, Erin Maxwell, daughter of Eleanor Maxwell, granddaughter of Elaine Maxwell-Smith, saw her life flash before her eyes.

She saw herself in the sandbox at The Community Church of God Preschool. The teacher, Margaret, had just brought in a rosary and all the other kids gathered around to gawk and touch. But Erin was content, focusing her energies on the six-flat condo complex she was designing in the sand.

She could smell the burnt flesh first, then saw the woodburning pen singe her thigh. The mark it left looked like a hammer.

She heard the clarinet solo in "Edelweiss", the fat kid demonstrating the slide of the trombone. She felt her knees shaking as she stood to play the C-scale on the flute.

"Jesus. Get on with it", Erin thought.

She tasted the tears that poured down her face when she failed her drivers license test for the third time, and then she tried to drown out the flashing of her life before her eyes by plugging up her ears and humming "Lost in Emotion" by Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam, but that just made her think about the time in Brownies when they had a Talent Show and Eve Lipton lip synced "Escapade" by Janet Jackson. That made her think about "Escapade" by Janet Jackson, but the reprieve would be short lived, as that brought her back to her first boy-girl party, where Leandra Moore made her dump Eric Brotsky for her.

"How high up could I have been? This is ridiculous."

By now Erin was desperate, and had turned her body around mid-air, and was making useless swimming motions, trying to hasten the sweet release only death could give. This, of course, reminded her of swimming classes at Magee Pool, and the crush she had on the lifeguard Drew. Drew. Drew Carey? Why was she thinking about Drew Carey? Remember the episode where Drew had to fire his girlfriend? She hated that show, but preferred even it to the Marching Band taking third place at the Cities, or closing night of "The Wiz".

The last thing Erin did before her body collided at long last with the sharp rocks at the base of the overhang was to try simply counting. Just counting. There's no way my life can intrude on this, she thought. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12.

doo doo doo doo doo doo doo

"What is that? Is that a pinball machine or what? I don't get it. Who drew these fucking cartoons in the first place? Kinda trippy for a kids show if you ask-"

Smash. Sweet, merciful smash. And at long last it's quiet.


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