DISCLAIMER: I feel that I must warn you that the story upon which we are about to embark is scary.
Oh, it does not start off that way, but don’t let it fool you. This story is deceptive. In fact, at the start, you will probably find yourself saying something like, “This story is curious!” or perhaps even, “This story is going to make for some light and relaxing reading at bedtime tonight.”
But rest assured, this is not the case, or at least this is not the case for very long. For, while starting off as merely curious, our story will progress first to platypus-level-weird, then to hairless-cat-level-unnerving. From there, it will take a short detour through Christopher-Walken’s-voice-level-eerie, overcompensate for the lost time by plummeting into subdermal-spidermite-level-bloodcurdling, and finally, settle into Sarah-Palin-as-President-level horrifying.
So if you have a heart condition, are pregnant or may become pregnant, or have a history of insomnia, you should probably sit this one out. In addition, this story is definitely not recommended – it is even un-recommended!– for the elderly and the infirm, for anyone with epilepsy or phantom limb syndrome, and for those of you who are able to be hypnotized.
Now, the more astute readers among you – and the word “astute” here is used to mean “keenly observant of things ordinary people might miss” – probably noticed that I have not said anything about children reading this story. This is because frankly, I am okay with the prospect of children reading it.
In my experience, children are ever-so-much more nimble than adults are at processing and incorporating new, strange, and even disturbing information into their lives. Why, when I was a child, both of my parents died in the very same month, then my twin brother was taken away and put into foster case and I was left on the treacherous streets of Houston to fend for myself.
To recover from all of this, it took me roughly one month.
But then some more time went by and I got taller and I turned into what society refers to as an “adult.” Now, whenever everything changes and my life turns upside down and I regenerate into a brand new person, it takes me longer to recover. It takes me about a year.
Children bounce; adults do not.
Try dropping one of each off the top of the nearest building if you don’t believe me.
The story upon which we are about to embark is scary, but children will probably be able to handle it okay – even if they happen to be very young children. The only real question – as I see it, anyway – is who those very young children are going to find to read this story to them. You could read it to them, I suppose, but as I might have mentioned earlier, you might be better off sitting this one out.
This story marks the beginning of “Lesbians in My Soup,” Season Four.
Season One was about my scheme for Double Bigamy (All the Way). Season Two was about my then-wife’s plans to join a religion. Season Three was about a break-up.
Season Four looks as though it might be about… fear.
By an odd coincidence, Season Four starts with Doctor Belloq – who is the woman I am sorta-kinda dating – reading “Lesbians in My Soup.” It starts with her asking to read more of my writing, things like my short stories, my novel-length manuscripts, and my journals.
It is always a little bit scary when someone whose opinion you value reads the words you have written. It is scary because it leaves you vulnerable. But that’s not the scary part of this story. The scary part of this story is what happened after that.
I will talk about it in my next blog post, which I think I am going to call “Sleep with Me.”
You might want to sit this one out.
If you do not, please don’t say I didn’t warn you.