Story Go Round 02/01/2002


The submarine blew up right in her face, and warm ocean breezes were torn to shreds, along with fifty of her angry, blue-backed euro dollars. Losing her beloved sub was only the first in a long string of beads coated with supposedly ever-buoyant plastic that was the only thing protecting her from Alzheimer's combined with gangrenous infection. Marie longed for her beloved sub, with predictable threats, not this time would she cry "foul" to the heartless mob as it tore at her throat like, never mind, you had dock. She longed for someone to call her "my lover bunny." Gerard, the man she had named her sub after, loved to do that. he also loved to niggle his toes in a pile of new Euros. They were a match for even the miserliest nay-sayer, and if you soaked them in brine they spelled 'Asp' without the 'p'.

Marie and Gerard respected each other's sense of somnambulism. It was as if gangrene was the mutual disease that bound them. But it wasn't. They had fungi from way back, infected from the submarine's underside, 'barnacle-itis' it was called. It was highly infectious and innocents from coast a Rica called it 'Bob'. People actually named Bob called it 'sub disease'. Those named 'sub disease' called it a big pain in the Pooh.

She lived for Euros, and she'd die first if she didn't hear 'love bunny' every moment. Gerard loved his lover bunny, even in an oversized, overrated Breezilla-doll named Bunny.

Consoled, her sub gone, she turned the console off.

Amber is purple; John is pink; Alan is blue; Terry is orange