Medusa Relationship
I was chatting with a medusa one night a few years ago. I met her at a night club and didn’t notice all the snakes attached to her scalp until it was too late. You know, a little bit of alcohol and some pounding beats from digitized drumsticks and twisty circuits, and things get a little hazy. I had already bought her a few drinks and it was too late to walk away by the time I realized that she was, indeed, a medusa.
I don’t remember exactly what I was saying. I think she accused me of “utterances consisting entirely of malarkey,” which seems a little extreme, but maybe it was deserved. If so, I’m going to use the hypnotic snakes on her head as my excuse; they left me in an altered state and I just wasn’t myself at that point.
Later, during our picnic in the park, I think I was more together. We sat on our blanket and whispered things in each others’ ears. At least, I think it was her doing the whispering most of the time. It’s always possible that the snakes were doing all of it.
And then we had a few months of a love/hate/snake relationship, and finally things came to an end. It was the right time, it was just time for us to move on. It was a bittersweet feeling watching her walk off down the road, wearing her favorite purple shawl, but my pet rats were overjoyed, which makes me happy. I think they were holding a little rat rave down in my basement, they were so excited that we had broken up.