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12B - The Michigan Daily - Weekend Mata ile - Thursday, March 7, 2002
The Michigan Daily - Weekend Mtaga
Burial
By Matthew C. Borushko
I had just fixed myself a drink and
was smoking a cigarette. Looking
out the kitchen window into the
backyard, I saw Annie s two girls
making ready. This was all new to
me. I thought that maybe I should
make ready, too. But I didn t know
how. The girls had little party-dress-
es on with ribbons in their hair.
Cute.
It was a sticky-hot July day and I
was already sweating on my neck
and other parts. I stayed over at
Annie s last night. It was the first
time we d done such a thing. You
see, we re seeing each other. Annie
says that me staying over wasn t
good for the girls to know, their dad
having died just a few months ago.
So I had to park down the road and
stay in the bedroom until we could
make like I d just shown up for the
service. I bet I got a parking ticket.
These cops in the suburbs have
nothing better to do than write park-
ing tickets.
Last night we went to the theatre
in Detroit. Then we had us some
drinks. I drove us back to her house
here in Troy and she beckoned me to
come on in, making all seductive-
like. She was tipsy. But we never
made love. Rather, we fell asleep. I
bet I was more attractive on the
porch than I was in the house. I fig-
ured that we were sleeping in the
same bed that her husband used to
make love to her in. I admit that s
creepy, him having been unfaithful
and moving out and dying.
For Raymond Carver
Those poor little girls. On top of
their dad dying their dog died, too. It
was an old dog, from what Annie
tells me. I admit that I don t know
the first thing about dogs. I ve never
had one. So I don t sometimes get
why people get all jazzed up about
their dogs. I don t get jazzed up
about much these days. But Annie s
girls really loved this dog. They
used to kiss this dog and let it lick
up all over their faces and such.
Disgusting.
Is this normal? I said to Annie.
Is what normal, Ray? she said.
She turned from the counter where
she was making lemonade.
This whole dog-burying thing. I
mean does everyone bury their dead
dogs in their backyard? I must tell
you that I haven t a clue as to what s
protocol here, Annie. But it just
seems funny, those girls having to
grow up with a dead dog in their
backyard and all R
Stop. Please.
I fixed another drink. A big Gin
and Tonic. It was going down nicely.
I looked at the girls. They looked
very solemn on their faces and were
kneeling, holding hands. Are they
praying?
Ray, Annie said, palming a
lemon and looking irritated.
I looked out again. The grass was
very green except for the rectangu-
lar ditch in the back that had been
dug by a neighbor. The landscaping
and such looked ratty, but I didn t
mention that to Annie.
Let s go, she said, and she start-
ed for the sliding door to the deck. I
followed. She turned and glared at
me. I thought for a second before
leaving my drink on the counter.
I tried to make serious while we
walked to where the girls were. The
sun was hot and I was squinting and
my head hurt. My neck was wet and
felt disgusting.
" I looked into the ditch and saw the
dead dog. I almost couldn t get over
it. The big black dead dog was in the
ditch. This was too much! They
were really going to do it. It wasn t
some way for Annie to trick the girls
into feeling better. I couldn t believe
it.
Annie was looking down at her
feet. So I did that, too. The older girl
began with the Lord s Prayer. Annie
joined in. I joined in, too, surprising
myself that I remembered the words
because I have to admit that I must-
n t have recited it since I was little.
I m not the praying type. But I knew
it, just as well.
Before the prayers are done, the
girls start to cry, and Annie starts to
cry, too. Annie runs around the ditch
to embrace the girls. The dead dog is
still there. I put my hands in my
pockets and wait for a signal.
Nothing.
Out of nowhere, the younger girl
breaks away from Annie and grabs
my leg. Her head only reaches my
waist. She cries and cries and makes
my trousers all wet. I reach down
and pat her little back.
ti.
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The walls are pulsating to Pink
Floyd s Breathe the
white wall isn t white any-
more and I can t tell if it s moving or
if the red yellow and blue plaid
painted across it is moving. I need a
cigarette. Out on the balcony I sit
with my back against the glass door
cold against my back. Its the
middle of October but I m too hot to
put my sweater back on, in fact I d
rather be naked. I can t believe I ran
down Hoover with my shoes in my
hands staring at my feet wondering
if they belonged to me. Of course
they belong to me but they don t
look like my feet. Hey, I ask the
guy sitting on the air conditioner,
Are these my feet? His eyes
widened to the size of baseballs uh,
yeah, as far as I know, he smiles, he
knows. Good, I was worried. There s
a little patch of grass down under
that red Probe, or is it coolant, or is
it there? Hey, he s chuckling, he s
entertained by me at least is that
grass? Um, well, I think so, why,
does it matter? Of course it matters
I need to know because
I jumped up and floated back into
the apartment. Was I just talking to
that guy on my balcony? Who is
that? Oh ya. Hmm. The air in here is
so squishy I have to move it away
with my hands so I can walk to the
couch. Ahh. Hey who turned off the
lights? Oh. They re on.
I can t believe you two went to a
football game like this, someone
else said, I don t know which one of
them though, I wasn t paying atten-
tion. I know, me either. I stopped
watching the game when I noticed
that the ground was oscillating but
my feet weren t, and they were on
the ground. I think. When we
scored a touchdown, and everyone
stood up it was like I was like I was
one little crayon getting tossed into
a big 76 pack of crayons complete
with the crayon sharp en e r why are
you looking at me like that? Haha,
sorry kid, I just wish I was you right
now, hahaha.
Hey my roommate s home Why
is it so dark in here, turn on some
lights haha, where is she? I
heard her say. In bed, we can t get
her out. Someone else s voice
replied. I m supposed to drive my
friend to his car, HA that s a funny
joke, I like it here in my bed of blue
marshmallow fluff, oops can t eat
the pillow, can t eat the pillow
Hello! Hey you have to get out
of bed! I do not, and stop pulling
my arms they 11 fall off and I don t
have anything to sew them back on
with dammit. Hey can you take
him back to his car, I seem to be a
bit incapacitated! More laughter.
Sure no problem. Is it really that
funny that I am in my cocoon and I
don t wish to come OUT!? Cocoons
are very comfortable, I spun it
myself. When? I don t remember.
How? You know but why does it
smell funny in here? What? It
smells like pink and tastes like pur-
ple, that s NOT RIGHT. It should
definitely smell what it tastes like
and taste what it smells like. Did I
say that out loud?
They re out there talking about
how I have to go somewhere, but I
don t want to, they think they can
get me out of my cocoon! HA! Evil
evil evil!! OK, I m coming.
Dammit. My roommate s gone,
where did she go? Oh ya to take him
back to his car. Must put shoes on
feet water? Check. Sweater?
Check. Polar bear? Check. POLAR
BEAR? What? No. Oh look, a
couch. Wait no! No no don t let her
Ahh couch. No, you can t make
me get up nooooooooo. Damn.
Walking through the leaves is fun,
they re really bright, are these real-
ly bright to you? Is no one listening
to me? Ooo they re soft, NAP
TIME! You can t lay down there!
But the leaves are comfy! Yes,
but you re in the middle of the road
you don t want to lay there haha-
ha. Damn sober people always
tellin me what I can and can t do, I
CAN lay down here if I choose to!
I would like to fly. How come
whenever I say something, they get
that nervous look on their face, I
oughtta steal that face away so they
can t use it anymore it makes me
mad. Um, dear, I don t think you
can fly right now, even if you think
you can. I can too! Its ok, many
things do not fly, rocks, sticks, trees,
SPIKE. Haha, The Land Before
Time, what a great movie. Are we
there yet? Where are we going?
We re going to my apartment.
Good.
I proceed to lay face down on the
carpet and watch each little carpet
hair. I don t know why, they re kind
of dancing a little no wait, they
stopped. Besides, its less confusing
than looking up at the television
when the picture keeps falling out
and landing on the table. Hey that
table looks good, ooo but the candle
looks better. I just want to eat
everything! No you can t eat that
it wouldn t taste good. Sure it
would, it would taste like hey
wait a minute, there s tears on my
face. Where did that come from?
Honey what s wrong? Nothing.
Nothing. Why? You re crying.
Am not. Am not! Wait yes I am.
But I don t know why and so it
goes and so it goes for hours and
hours and there it goes as I wake
up even though I was never asleep
and everyone there is normal but not
to me, and I feel like I ve died, gone
to heaven and lived to tell about it.
But not in any words that I could
understand.
Isn t it funny how an eighth of
mushrooms can make a person go
mad?
Damn these mushrooms? Where am I? Where's the Titanic? Alan Thicke save me!
yrppin
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