This week's Red Writing Hood Challenge is to write from the perspective of a broken inanimate object.
I welcome your thoughts and comments. FYI, this post has adult content. You've been warned.
As soon as I saw her, I knew I needed to take her home. I think it was her eyes--a cloudy, tide-pool green. I wanted to probe deeply, and discover her secrets.
This is what I do.
I've been working the Slumber Party circuit for awhile. You know the scene, right? It's an oh-so-daring alternative to a Tupperware party. The yentas drink their Green Appletinis, tee-hee their way through party games, and buy toys like yours truly.
Yes, technically, I am a toy. But I'm definitely not for the kiddos.
With six levels of power, twirling shaft beads, and a remote control, I am the Long Distance Dolphin. Perhaps you've heard of me.
I saw her approach the table. Her face was flushed from her second drink. She wore black yoga pants, and her work badge hung limply on a lanyard around her neck. She needed to reapply her lipstick.
She picked up a Pocket Rocket, smiled to herself, and placed it back down. She scanned the edible underwear and the hot-and-cold massage oil. She picked up a best-seller, the butt plug with the magnetic attachment. Supposedly, it works quite well during the spin cycle. "Oh my GOD!" she shrieked, nudging her friend. "Holy Shit!"
She picked me up, "Look, Suzanne!" she said, reading from my package, "108 patterns of erotic enjoyment...all at my fingertips! And...wait, " she laughed out loud, a spontaneous spasm of mirth, "It has a REMOTE CONTROL!" Her laughter heightened, wave after wave, until she bent forward, unable to speak. Unable to do anything but enjoy the sensation. She wiped her tears, her shaking slowly giving way to slow, steady breaths.
I wanted to light up a cigarette. If I only had arms.
"Buy it!" her friend said, "You need this! Just think of the possibilities...church, Girl Scout Meetings," the two shrieked together, doubled over once again.
I love it when they do it twice.
My green-eyed friend tipped back her drink, swallowed hard, and placed me in her bag. "Tonight, I'm riding the dolphin."
My pleasure, I thought.
The house was dark as she walked inside. She strutted into the kitchen, flipped her hair, and cooed, "Hey Derek."
He didn't look up from the glow of the computer, "Hold on, honey, I'm almost done with this post."
She sat down at the kitchen table. "What are you writing about?"
He sighed, "I'm trying to write a review of Guitar Hero: Primus Edition, if you must know." He looked her up and down, "How was your candle party?"
"Well," she said, licking her lips, "It actually wasn't a---"
He shut the laptop with a thump, "Whatever, honey. Just don't spend too much money on crap we don't need." He scratched his ear, then sat up. "Oh, Barbara, I got something for you!"
"What that?" she asked. She walked behind him, rubbed his shoulders.
He brushed her off, and handed her a magazine. "You know how you've said you wanted to lose some weight? I brought you some inspiration." He handed her the Victoria's Secret catalog. She said nothing.
He grinned, "You can thank me later." He grunted, stood up, and headed to the bathroom. "Gotta make some turtle soup." He turned around, "On second thought, could you hand me that catalog?"
"Charming," she muttered to herself, as his footsteps echoed down the hallway. She slumped into a chair. "God, I'm so stupid. So, so, stupid."
She sat for a moment, her face a flat, watery stone. Then, she walked to her bedroom and placed me in her nightstand drawer.
I rest here today. Unused. My batteries drain. Her light slowly dims to nothing.