The Pontificators

Remember that time I opened my mouth and screamed? Me too.

She looked at me from under her old lady afro and asked why I was in the street. I yelled at her, and cursed her, and sent her to hell a million times.

All of my memories are in technicolour. It was so beautiful. And he yelled I’m a nurse! I’m a nurse! And the ambulance came and asked if I could walk and I lied. I said yes and fell and she caught me. I wouldn’t let them leave until they called my mom, but memory was somewhere else and I didn’t know the numbers.

I must have remembered, because she was there when the gourney came undone and I was nearly thrown back out in traffic. The ambulance doors swinging wide as I rolled toward the opening. But we were already stopped and they just rebuckled me. Like everything was fine.

Then I peed in a cup and cried and tried to sleep. I think I made a joke, but I don’t remember the punchline. I asked them to call my sister, and they did. She promised to beat that driver up for me. Sock her in the jaw. I laughed and it hurt. They Xrayed my bones.

Nothing broken but my brain. They sent me home and I ate wasabi. I don’t know if my best friend was there or if I only asked for her. I don’t know if she brought be rasberry sorbet, or if I just wished she had. I think she did, but I’ll never know for sure. Even when she tells me, it doesn’t bring my memories back.

I wrote a blog post that day, and someone sent me a care package. It had a pig in it and I named him Feodore. He smelled like licorice. I remember that part. Days after.

I didn’t scream again for a long time. I can’t open my mouth any more.

This entry was posted on Saturday, July 25th, 2009 at 11:45 am and is filed under Carlie, Personal History. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.