by Nina Beizer • Bears. Anthrax. Killer bees. Arson. Zombies. Satan. Diabetes. Evil dolls that come alive at night. Death by fire. Definitely not your messy room, sweetie.
But while we’re on the subject, let’s just discuss that pile of dirty laundry that you have in the corner right there. No need to clean it up right now, don’t worry, but I just thought I might mention that it doesn’t quite fit in with the décor. The décor that I painstakingly picked out for you as you grew in my ever-generous womb. The womb that housed and protected and fed and loved you for the first crucial nine months of your existence, a womb without which you would be abandoned, confused, and above all dead.
Anyway, where was I? Snakes. Terrorists. Syphillis. Ninja attacks. That store of smallpox they still have in Russia. Dragons. Facial deformities. Your unmade bed. You just might want to tug up the corner, just a little bit. And maybe fluff the pillows. And maybe change the sheets. And maybe iron them after they come out of the dryer. If you’re in the mood. No pressure, oh reason for my existence.
Rabies. Spiders. Rapists that walk among us disguised as ordinary citizens biding their time until they spot the next unattended drink. Drowning. Abandoned AIDS-filled syringes. Godzilla. ‘Nam. Sugar pie honey bunch are you just going to sit there listening to me talk? Because you know, you could be, oh, I don’t know, vacuuming or something. For your own enjoyment. Baby doll.
Cockroaches. Weapons of mass destruction. Vampires. Gremlins. Dying alone.
