Losing My Fucking Yellow (676 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.8 on 16 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by morontian (View user info) at 2006-09-18 11:51:33 EDT
The vinyl tile was cool against the soft pads of the bottoms of my feet. I was roaming around the kitchen, unconsciously going through the somewhat routine motions that usually constitute preparing my breakfast. My towel was tucked snug up around my breasts, draping my body like a warm, fluffy, woolen slip. Bon Jovi was spinning in his grave, said grave being the CD player in the living room. He was informing me that that I give love a bad name. It was an assertion that I was not sure he was qualified to make, but at least it was music, something that is desperately missing from morning radio.
A fresh slice of toast was sitting at the table making goo-goo eyes at my glass of orange juice. It looked quite happy with itself, utterly unaware of the carnage that was on its way. I felt a tickle of a smile lurking behind my face as I took the butter out of the refrigerator and spun around to approach the table armed with spread. SPREAD!!! GODDAMMIT, DON'T FUCK WITH ME, TOAST!!! Giggling, I popped the plastic lid free and slid the knife into the smooth surface of an unblemished, virgin tub of butter. I pulled the nutritionally excessive pat of yellow goodness out of the container and moved slowly toward the unsuspecting slice of toast. Anticipation was building. Not a lot, mind you. It was after all just a slice of toast.
I brought the knife down and prepared to gently glide the blade across the toast's rough morning skin. I imagined that soft scraping sound that would have been made if it had not been for the soft coating of butter. A sound not unlike shaving with no gel. That sound was just my imagination, though. Really. I still have no illusions about that. But...
"What do you think you're doing?" a quite deep, masculine voice asked me. Rather too deep, actually. Much deeper than such a thin slice of toast should rightfully possess, in my opinion.
A sharp, little gasp escaped my throat as I tumbled backwards, groping for the countertop with my flailing hands, trying to seek out anything to keep me from spilling onto my prat right there in my normally safe and secure kitchen. My butt finally connected with the fridge and I was saved from the unforgiving torment of gravity, which is more than I can say for the box of Cheerios that I had slapped on my way. But you know what? Before the box even had time to hit the floor, I was already at peace again. This had happened before. It just took a second for me to remember. Dammit. Details, they're so easy to lose.
And it's not really all my fault, you know? I've been under a lot of pressure lately. School being number two. The nutty professor had this brilliant idea for an assignment which included video taping yourself in the morning so you can witness your own actions while you're still in that half-awake stage. The idea was to see if there are any idiosyncrasies of which you are unaware that may shine light on other things you do in your everyday life without fully understanding why. Like there would be some subtle truth hidden in those thoughtless motions that would expose personality traits you didn't even know you had. It sounded like hogwash to me, but then again, the whole class was kind of retarded. Nonetheless, I do have a GPA to maintain.
"Jesus! Are you okay? What was that?" the toast asked me. It sounded authentically concerned.
"Oh, I thought I saw a mosquito! It's too early for mosquitoes, isn't it?"
"What do you mean, too early in the year, or too early in the day?" Hahahaha!! Stupid toast fell for it.
"Never mind." I strolled back to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. Yeah, I guess it was my own fault that I forgot my meds that morning. But what with setting up the camera and the fact that I was already running a bit behind I had just forgotten. No biggie. I shook a pill out of an innocent looking Nuprin bottle and popped it in my mouth. I had always been paranoid about having that clear, brown, accusatory prescription bottle sitting around. I felt as if anyone who might look would see through me just as easily as they could see through that verdict resting on the shelf. As I closed the cabinet door and caught my reflection in the mirror, I thought about shutting off the camera in the kitchen and doing this thing tomorrow. I still had a week to have this self-evaluation done. But then I thought "Hell, why not go ahead and tape myself this morning? It might be fun to watch what happens as the drugs slowly wash over my mind and anchor me to the Earth with everyone else."
So I went with it. I went back into the kitchen, tossed the knife that was STILL on the floor into the sink and grabbed another knife to do my spreading. I took another chunk of butter and zeroed in once again on the toast at the table.
"Why do you keep coming at me with butter?" asked the toast.
I smiled a seductive (I hoped) little smile and whispered to the toast: "I'm gonna get choo all tasty an' then I'm gonna eatcha."
"Oh really?" asked the toast. "That sounds like quite a treat... for you. What do I get out of this deal?"
"Baby, you get the honor of satisfying me this fine morning." I decided that if I was going to taunt my food I might as well go all out. I reached up with my empty hand and freed the towel from my body, letting it fall to the floor in a nearly silent whisp.
The toast looked me up and down. I could almost see it getting harder as it sat there; the stale morning air coming alive with excitement. The toast spoke to me, its voice as smooth as butter, and said: "Why don't you dab a little bit of that on your nipples first, sweetie?"
The camera completely forgotten by this time, I obeyed. I felt the cool condiment...
Is butter a condiment? I'm not sure if it is a condiment exactly. It seems like it could be. Almost should be, but I don't know for surspread over first my left nipple, and then trace through the valley between my breast to climb the other mountain to its peak. It was a wonderful feeling. I stood there in the kitchen, covering my naked body with cool, smooth butter as bright rays of sunlight fell through the window. I hadn't felt so alive in some time.
"Now it's your turn, baby," I said as I advanced on the toast with a fresh lump of butter at my disposal. I waved the knife back and forth slowly, like a quack psychiatrist attempting to hypnotize a patient. A common yellow pages shrink. Yellow pages. Yellow.
Yellow like...
Something was wrong. The toast had grown eyes. Eyes on stalks. They were looking at me. Evaluating me. Grading me. What the fuck? This wasn't school. This was home, dammit. Did I say I was in school. Did I? I'm sorry, I think I just lied to you. I can't be sure, but...
You see, I dropped out of school. I remember now. Too much pressure. Almost drove me crazy trying to keep up with two bastard kids, school and work. They're nice enough, the kids, but they are bastards for sure. The Bible told me so.
The toast continued to look at me, an expression of confusion beginning to dawn in those improbable eyes on this sunny morning. Those eyes suddenly grew to twice their size and the toast started to ask in a rush: "Oh, Goddidyouremember..."
I brought the knife down in a swift arc, slicing the air and sending butter flying from the tip of the blade onto the far wall of the kitchenette. The room was shrinking around me. Shrink, shrink, shrink, until it was just me and the toast. A cloud fell over the sun outside and the tiny room fell dark. I could feel the freezing ceramic tiles against the soft pads of the bottoms of my feet. Arms sprouted from the crusts of the toast and it began to struggle with me. But I had the advantage. I HAD SPREAD!!! DON'T FUCK WITH ME, TOAST!!!
The toast had its newfound hands wrapped around my wrists and was holding its own against my attack. Looking back, I have to give that toast a lot of credit. It was strong toast. Healthy. Some toast is kind of nonchalant about existence, but not this toast. Huh-uh. It was tough. Must have been whole wheat. I couldn't remember the last time I had to fight so hard to keep my breakfast down.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!
He actually started dating me, can you believe that?!? Isn't that illegal? It should be. For someone to get paid to dig around inside your head that much just to find a way to dig around inside you somewhere else? Not that I minded, mind you. He understood me. He took the time to find out what made me tick. And he was so smart, coming up with fun, creative little ways to help me find out all those little idiosyncrasies about myself that I didn't see. He was great. I'd go so far as to say he was the greatest thing since sliced bread...
But toast, on the other hand.
No.
Toast is just bread back from Hell, isn't it? Makes sense to me. I ain't afraid of no toast.
The toast tried to catch a tighter hold on my arm with the knife at the end of it, but guess what? It slipped. All that nice, smooth butter he had persuaded me to defile myself with turned out to be endorsed by Fabio after all. Too bad. I caught a good glimpse of that knife as it rushed to the toast's face. The knife was shiny and clean, none of that disgusting butter to be seen. It made a soft scraping sound, not unlike shaving with no gel. And, well, it was over pretty quick after that.
I walked into the living room and told Bon Jovi to shut up. I extended my finger and pressed stop, allowing him to rot still in his grave, for now. I collapsed on the couch and looked up at the ceiling. I could hear some noise coming from up there, but I couldn't remember what could be making it. And the worst thing was: I was still hungry. That damned toast had ruined my breakfast, that bastard. Bastards everywhere. I needed to eat, but toast was definitely out of the question.
Wait a minute.
Up there... in the cupboard... bagels...
two of them...
and you know what?
They're just screaming for some cream cheese.
User Reviews
Submitted by sexualchocolate1984 (user info) at 2006-09-19 10:46:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Shit! You really are crazy. I mean, Bon Jovi?
Submitted by Naery (user info) at 2006-09-19 10:43:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Some toast is kind of nonchalant about existence...
Toast is just bread back from Hell, isn't it?
+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Cracked my shit up!
Well-written and enjoyable.
Submitted by ICO (user info) at 2006-09-19 10:28:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No time to really finish it up, but so far easily the best written work I've read today.
Submitted by moneyshotforyou (user info) at 2006-09-18 23:37:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I fixed my laptop.
Submitted by goferforhire (user info) at 2006-09-18 17:19:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
A little too trippy for my taste
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-09-18 15:29:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You should have put the toast in your Nazi 'Zyklon-B' toaster...
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2006-09-18 14:06:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
My long unused finger clicked the clicky black mouse at the dropping drop box that served to righteously adjust this overrated post.
Submitted by strwbryfanatic (user info) at 2006-09-18 14:03:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
+2 Loved It!!
Submitted by The_Yellow_Dart (user info) at 2006-09-18 13:43:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Welcome back.
This was quite amusing too, by the by.
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-09-18 13:17:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
nicely done.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2006-09-18 12:46:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
(backs away slowly not making any sudden moves)
Submitted by morontian (user info) at 2006-09-18 12:35:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-09-18 12:33:22 (#)
Ranking: 2
holy fucking shit dude.
haven't seen your ass around here in forever.
-------------
Yep. I lost my yellow.
Submitted by ghola (user info) at 2006-09-18 12:33:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
holy fucking shit dude.
haven't seen your ass around here in forever.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2006-09-18 12:17:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Very good. Very good indeed.
Submitted by Allyson (user info) at 2006-09-18 12:08:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by FilthyAssistant (user info) at 2006-09-18 11:58:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
The toast council of america thanks you.