Creature Comforts

If you are visiting from Poets United, do know that this is not a haibun… it’s a mostly lived tale with a senryu for a tail. I could’ve birthed it as a haibun, but… the Muse wanted a tale… And who am I to deny a yummily wild creature (made of me and ink) her whims or musings, right?

 

And the tale with a poetic tail…

The tooth fairy wears pale green scrubs and glasses so thick that I have often wondered if he can see my brain through my open mouth.

“I have to take the two problem children from the lower back”, he tells me, poke-poke-poking between my gums and teeth with a dental explorer. “Any sharp pain?”

“Not really”, I say, “just a prickly discomfort that suggests a prick is poking my gums with something sharp and metallic.”

The tooth fairy’s assistant pales a bit—she is new. The tooth fairy knows me, so he grins, his magnified eyes making him look like a slightly mad divination teacher.

“We would leave them in, if you didn’t have serious things to deal with soon. You take excellent care of your teeth. But I worry about infection during days you might not be able to floss and brush properly. “But don’t worry, this won’t take—”

I don’t let him finish the sentence. “I need to get something out of my bag first.”

“Sure,” says the tooth fairy’s assistant, bringing me the bag.

I grab my red-eyed raven, give it a little squeeze.

“Great idea,” says the tooth fairy’s assistant. “It’s just a simple extraction, but stuffed animals can be really comforting if that makes you nervous.”

“Certainly,” I tell her, my eyes on hers as she preps me for the extractions. “I love my creature comforts. I can’t think of anything more comforting than visualizing a cute raven pecking on the eyes of my enemies as someone rips my teeth out.”

After that exchange, the only words out of the mouth of the tooth fairy’s assistant were “Suction” and “You are doing so well”. The tooth fairy, on the other hand, uttered many words. Most of them an effort to mask the urge to laugh, methinks.

 

ravens in black lace
conjure creepy-cute comfort
while brewing cackles
Raven by Groovy Gothic

 

the wee notes…
– So, that’s where things are right now. I’m two molars down and a boob to go. They do say that threesomes are lucky, don’t they? 😉
– To those of you following Trinkets and Armor, the prompt posts no longer have a fixed schedule. The next one will probably be posted on Monday or Tuesday.
– Linked to Poets United.

 

The Truth-Telling Jacket

Greetings, humans. I’ve taken a page out of HRH’s book (if you’ve yet to meet that kitty, you should swing by She Who Seeks). I’m Magaly’s Muse. “She is sleeping right now. Shh!” You might not know this, but my Writer is disgusted by the news. Moi? I am obsessed with it. So… while she slumbers, I surf through real reports that taste disturbingly dystopian. Last week, I read about “a lady” in a truth-telling jacket.

 

This is exactly what happened:

A naturalized U.S. citizen (suffering from selective memory loss) was photographed right after a reporter from Hooey! Magazine asked her, “Is it true that your husband is a dementor wearing human skin?”

The lady seemed to be struggling with the complexity of the inquiry, phrases like Can you define ‘human?’ and ‘Must all of my husband’s hair be technically of this world?’ popped out of her eyeballs.

The reporter wasn’t sure how to proceed. His editor didn’t clear him to discuss popping thoughts of alien hair. He was about to say something nice about the lady’s attire, mostly to stole, but a collective gasp uttered by the sea of reporters standing behind the lady shut him up.

“She’s wearing a Truth-Telling Jacket!” the crowd shouted as one voice.

As the lady placed a hand over the spot where her heart should’ve been and turned to smile at the crowd, the reporter was able to read the clear message spelled by the truth-telling fabric: ‘I really don’t care. Do U?’

I’ve been following this reporter for some time now. He isn’t known for his sentimentality. Still, his eyes were shining, when he said, “Love like this is hard to find. Human or not, those two are made for each other.”

And I think he is right. The lady and her alleged human-skin-wearing-dementor must love each other deeply. Why else would she ever wear fabric that screams her true feelings into the world, regardless of how despicable said feelings might be?

His own show of love isn’t far behind. After a team of ornithologists explained to him that humanity tweets loudest when horrors threaten an innocent soul, he created a caring camp where he isolates children from parents. This isn’t done out of cruelty, of course. He cares hugely. He only wants to study the adults’ emotions at their rawest, in order to mimic their behaviors and become more humane for love.

Many people—especially those who find it hard to breathe through the happiness-sucking fog that follows the couple around—care very much about this issue. And they, too, are wearing truth-telling jackets.

image borrowed from Pearl Jam

 

posted by Magaly’s Muse

This is the work of a make-believe being who suspects someone got drunk and burned the barrier between news, reality, and politics. Names, characters, jackets, events, places, incidents… are either the products of said being’s imaginative whims or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual events or persons (living or dead, undead, thought to be undead, or known to be inhuman) is purely coincidental. Well… except the dementors. The dementors are real. Damn you, Dolores!