Dysfunction Archives

July 21, 2005

Stacy: Anyone But You

I flip through the CDs, looking for something to fill the quiet. Ahh, Donkey...great band, lounge lizards with a fat horn section.

The music starts and I remember that summer. Nights at dive bars, great music...Donkey, Dash Rip Rock, even Bo Diddly in a show advertised by homemade flyers stuck on power poles. Emotionless, empty nights.

The end was coming, we both knew it. He was increasingly impatient with me, for no reason I could fathom, and I was increasingly uneasy, having no idea what he wanted from me.

I know now he just wanted me to be someone else.

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July 23, 2005

Stacy: Misery, Loss, Secrets

She sobbed uncontrollably, feeling as if her heart was tearing from her body. They lowered the casket into the ground and she tore herself from their grasp, sprawling at the side of the grave, tears falling in time with the drizzling rain.

The minister's voice droned on and on, and she felt hands tugging at her, trying to draw her backwards. She dug her fingers into the mud, watched the casket sink out of view, cursing those who put him there.

She allowed them to stand her up, clean her hands. She nodded at their words, and planned her revenge.

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August 4, 2005

Stacy: It's Over

Their battle carried them down to the beach. Another beautiful sunset wasted.

He called her a whore. She called him weak. He spat in her face, she slapped him across his.

Overhead the sea birds turned, catching the evening insects. In the sea, hunters hunted.

He eyed the surf speculatively. She spat out one last insult and he punched her hard in the face. Her nose spurted blood and she slumped, unconscious.

He heaved her limp body far out into the surf, smiled appreciatively at the immediate roil of red water.

Yes, a vacation was what their relationship needed.

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September 11, 2005

Stacy: Trapped

"Give it back!" she screamed. Had been screaming forever. Would scream until she died.

A hollow laugh floated down the corridor, she turned swiftly towards the noise, but it was gone. She ran blindly down the halls, turning sometimes left, sometimes right.

Her hands were ragged and bloody from clawing at doors that would not open, windows that would not break. Her clothing was stained with her own filth, falling off her increasingly gaunt body.

Trapped in her own mind, she screamed endlessly at a mocking voice she could not find. Outside, the sun shone, birds sang, the world turned.

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September 15, 2005

Stacy: Flameout

Ingredients...sugar, anise, lard...millet? What the fuck is millet? Who puts lard in a frigging breakfast cereal? Anise is fucking poison, isn't it? Christ, these R&D boys are trying to get me fired, that's what it is. They're still pissed over that whole Exploding Cheese thing, I know it.

Alright, goddammit, concentrate, you can do this.

"It's a flavorful mix of the best things in nature, good tasting and good for you!"

Christ, that sucks. What the fuck am I doing? No one would buy this shit without actual hundred dollar bills included in the box. Screw this shit, I quit.

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September 20, 2005

Stacy: Do Me A Favor

"I'm sorry," he said, without feeling.

She fought against the tears, determined not to let him see her broken, destroyed. She looked at him, really looked at him, as she hadn't done in years. And she saw how he'd subtly taken her free will, her much vaunted independence, turned them into his toys. All she'd done for the past two years was worry about how he viewed her, what he thought of her. With a shiver of near disgust she realized she hadn't had a thought that didn't include him for a very long time.

"Don't come back," she said.

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October 19, 2005

Stacy: Self Aware

"Tense? Why am I tense?"

"Yeah. You've been making me nuts all day, what's wrong with you?"

"Hm. Let's see. Why could I be tense? Could it be...and I'm just spitballing here...that you're FUCKING MY BROTHER??!?!"

"There's no need to yell..."


"Well, it's just this thing you know? We met, sparks flew..."

"We've been married for less than a month, and YOU'RE FUCKING MY BROTHER!!!"

"Would you calm down please? It was only that one time."

"I swear, woman, you are so lucky today’s theme isn’t 'write about a justified homicide'."

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January 4, 2006

Stacy: Sacrifice

Flames. Was the room really on fire? She blinked sleepy eyes at the orange light dancing on the ceiling. John. Where... His face swam into view above her.

"Thank the gods," she said, "I thought..."

She stopped at the look on his face. It was…odd.

"Yes, thank the gods," he said, breathing harshly.

She felt leaden, as if she’d had too much to drink, her eyes kept sliding out of focus. ‘Drugged’, she thought, fear beginning to surge through her. She tried to roll out of bed, run, but it was too late. The knife penetrated just above her breastbone.

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October 10, 2006

Stacy: Under the Weather

He stormed into the house, threw his briefcase at the expensive flower arrangement in the foyer, and stomped upstairs to their bedroom.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?!” he exploded, fists clenched in an attempt control himself.

She sat silently on the bed, the box in her hands forgotten.

“I trusted you,” he raged. “I trusted you with my future, my LIFE!”

He swept the contents of her vanity table to the floor, powder and kohl mixing with diamonds and pearls.

“Don’t you have anything to say?” he screamed.

She looked helplessly at the bronchitis medicine in her hands.

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October 13, 2006

Stacy: Vacation

Lost. Goddamned Yellowstone tour guide. We should have checked his ID, or something…do you have to be licensed to be a guide?

We’d have been ok if stupid Steven hadn’t gotten scalded by that geyser. What kind of idiot thinks the park service actually digs holes for you to take a dump in? At least he’s stopped screaming now. The moaning is irritating but not quite as bad.

I wonder when they’ll send out a search party. Or if. I don’t think we told anyone where we were going…did we? Oh well, at least there are no bears.

Uh oh…

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