Normal...

normal-spells-honeyboola

You’ve forgotten

this opulent kingdom through the years---that you had even once made the lobby of this place your own private study---because of the preferences of the bodies you’ve been with. Your first time here was that summer when kind but kupalog-somebody told you to pack a swimsuit, just like that. But it was not just like that: kupalog-somebody had to be reminded by familiar-bodies about those secret remedies you had to take, the allergies you could not take, and that swimming could be drowning for suicidal-you.

You say

to Happy-Pixie now while looking at this kingdom’s pool that none of you could understand why that kupalog-somebody sought you out and was always there at that crazy time. After all, your regular-normal-friends had already abandoned suddenly-abnormal-you, and kupalog-somebody was normal and not even your friend but one of your beau-friend’s friends you had only recently met. But kupalog-somebody promised familiar-bodies to take care with unwell-you and lonely-you were then entrusted to kind-kupalog.

Your first time

in this forgotten place was the spontaneity of being silly like children in the pool because kupalog-somebody knew that depressing-seriousness was killing depressed-you. You had dinner and watched a movie with kupalog-somebody after. You could not remember the movie but you remember freezing and eating ice cream.

You remember

that kupalog-somebody was a good friend to you at that time. Though in time kupalog-friend became confusing and recovering-you got confused. Retarded-you told your beau-friend about your confusion because your normal-manual said so.

Your kupalog-friend played the gentleman in the falling-out-scandal that had happened

and denied what was felt for labeled-hallucinating-you in a duel for your sanity-virtue with your beau-friend so that there would be peace; disappeared; and left already-messed-you to clean up that kupalog-friend’s left mess alone in your already-messed-up-life, made by the regular-normal to accept that it was all your fault and thereon you kept your silence. All that mess and

You didn’t even fuck

that kupalog.

You are asked

by Happy-Pixie now if that was the time you also met this geeky-somebody.

You laugh again

for you have forgotten in your silence about that somebody too and nodded. After all, kupalog-somebody and geeky-somebody were cousins, and geeky-somebody was a skinny-puppy you did not even bother to give the scary-crazy-look when introduced that day you went swimming with that kupalog.

You were a drugged-out-zombie

anyway and didn’t have to do that. But

You were at the same place and time

for a narrative-time with the geeky-somebody again two years later--- then two years older--- whom you did not even recognize nor acknowledge for snooty-you disliked geeky-somebody’s snootier-balls. But from snooty-aggregates you became bitching-archates during and after merry-drinking and geeky-somebody reminded you that you already met via cousin-kupalog.

You remembered

and wondered how much geeky-cousin knew about kupalog-cousin but discerned that they weren’t close.

You didn’t say anything more

about that kupalog and geeky-somebody began telling you about life-and-far-away-girlfriend.

You really liked

the geeky-somebody for being a geeky-sweetie. You became secretly infatuated with that geeky-wit over more merry-drinking and that surprised you. But what surprised, that is, disturbed a lot of blind-somebody was that geeky-somebody was becoming more obvious in being intoxicated by you. After all, you both hated each other’s snooty-guts.

You didn’t even do anything

out of the trying-to-be-ordinary-you and what was really a surprise was when on the concluding night of your aggregation, squeaky-geeky-somebody sneaked a hug to allergic-to-hugs-you then kissed known-out-of-geeks-league you. That courage: geeky-somebody was tipsy, of course.

You reacted with *whoa*

that *what are you doing?!* horror and stopped your Ogre from punching kinky-geek in time for you to push kinky-geek away. Then you smiled a just-forget-it shrug. Minutes later, you laughed at kinky-geeky-somebody’s secret-text-wooing.

Your laugh made

geeky-somebody think and feel like a geeky-loser and geeky-somebody snapped “Are you laughing at me?!” like a delicate-neurotic. You felt bad and shook your head in you’re-not-a-loser-reassurance. But

Your Honey says,

You always laugh at Dutch Balls.

You shake your head

at moments…have a life-span of at the moment.

You don’t make moments

live into the next-mess. However, the geeky-somebody began to dance a tango from that kinky-kiss but fondly-called-chicken-legged-geek was really dancing the chicken-dance. And

Your Honey said,

Tsk, tsk, it takes two to tango, three to cha-cha, four to samba and chicken-legs suck because they dance combo-mess.

You said,

Yo chicken-legs, stop, do you know what you’re getting into, you really want to do this dance, with me, you sure, last chance, fine, partner you---

You boogied

geeky-somebody into chickening out of combo-mess so that you can be just friends like you wanted and finally sighed in relief because then you could stop role-playing-boogeywoman.

You and geeky-somebody would talk like friends now and then after

but then geeky-somebody suddenly pulled silent-treatment.

You asked why now and then

but geeky-somebody wasn’t answering so you shrugged and tended to your busy schedule of ordering the universe. Then

Your elves told you that you got sold as rejected-stalker-you out.

So

Geeky-somebody already became all running-mouth-wink-wink about you to geeky-friends.

Then

You text-snapped to geeky-somebody: How dare youyadayada have the decency at least to talk to me so that your lies could be responded to accordingly.

And

Geeky-somebody snap-replied in an indignant-wash that geeky-somebody found out geeky-person was talked about as played-by-youyadayada.

So

You were sifting through while reeling from the geeky-somebody’s-catharsis for the who-talked-play because it couldn’t be your three in-the-gray-narrative-time-friends. And you all knew that breaking confidentiality-clause was punishable by death-of-life-as-you-all-know-it.

Then

Somebody broke the confidentiality-clause.

And

That was the narrative-authority who was geeky-somebody’s friend you consulted secretly and in good faith about the combo-havoc geeky-somebody was dancing in your love-lives and that if your saintly-but-asshole-beau-friend found out it would be the end of the geek’s world and maybe yours, too.

Your Ogre lost its temper

for that narrative-authority that you consulted should have kept a thinking-all-knowing mouth shut. In fact,

You were labeled

by this archaic-authority in early-narrative-time as (1) “freak” for having disorders but that was retracted with an apology. Then in middle-narrative-time while in geeky-somebody’s-presence as (2) “Ohmygod, you are the *gasp* urban-legend Malcolm-Kingdom-Gossip says the King was chasing!” which you denied but denial was discounted. And finally after-narrative-time as (3) “….loves ineffable-boyfriend; impossible to care or even *snort* fall in with or love somebody like geeky-you because you know this one didn’t even go for the King therefore playing you…” which what had really hurt the geeky-heart-ego. So

Your Ogre confronted the narrative-authority

and you found yourself crying in between asking this narrative-authority why say lies as truths on behalf of you: why say that you didn’t care and that you were simply toying with one heart, two hearts, three hearts, your heart---

You were sobbing out

that you didn’t want to lose that sweetie-archate, or hurt that neurotic-ego, or break that geeky-achy-heart because you did feel something-troubling which might even possibly be in-love-with-geeky-person and the confusion was not going anywhere because you didn’t want to hurt anybody--- And then

You were ranting

for didn’t the stupid-authority know that it’s possible to love more than one person and that you and geeky-somebody couldn’t even be friends now since the tourette-authority messed that up because this non-prom-dance between you and the geeky-somebody was being settled for geeky-somebody (among other things like trying but failing to articulate the meaning of life) was already marching brain and balls for bygones-strength in order to deal with having horny-confusing-feelings for allergic-to-horny-confusing-feelings-you and it really didn’t need authority-you to mess it up more, thank authority-you-don’t-know-shit-very-much for the authority-unsolicited-mess.

You hiccupped a shake of the head at the apology of the debunked-authority

and that was, “But…Why didn’t you tell me everything…I didn’t know… My intentions were good…”

You shrieked at the useless-authority’s-apology,

“To Hell with that! That doesn’t excuse your breaking an act of good faith! You’re an authority and I trusted you! Of course whatever I say now would not be believed because you’re the authority-friend and you said those things! And of course I would not tell you everything! Nobody knows everything! And why would I tell you how I feel?! You are not even my friend!”

You were asked by writhing-authority,

“What can I do to make this right? What do you want me to do?”

You screamed,

“You shouldn’t fucking teach because you’re not trustworthy! Don’t tell me you tell other people too about what we wrote in our journals?! At least you didn’t go behind my back again and then tell lies to my boyfriend too! So nothing! The damage is done so stay the hell out of it like you should have! Just leave it alone!” And

You shouted that you didn’t give a fuck

if you got a narrative-failing-grade for screaming at narrative-meddling-authority.

You wanted to die

from the pain of losing geeky-somebody and escape from the coming life-spinning-absurd-storm and so you killed yourself: NOT. Though

You hoped that was the end

of it, struggled to keep the storm under secret-control, and went about with your then-more-than-ever-allergic-to-narrating-life. But what

You imagined would not happen

would then happen. That is,

Your elves reported that the paranoid-of-being-found-out-naughty-geeky-somebody

decided to be squeaky-clean and confess before dying of guilt or ratted out by gossipmongers to--- be forgiven and found faultless with confession by---the far-away-girlfriend.

Your Honey said,

Stupid.

You shook your head,

What for? Nothing happened. But you’ve got to admire the balls.

Your Honey said,

That’s good they say for the soul but would cause a mess. And that is,

Your elves reported that geeky-somebody pointed the fault-finger

at Jezebel-you.

Your Ogre growled,

Going to kill this screwmag.

You calmed your Ogre with a sad laugh,

Man, not the first time a nasty-scared-hurt-ego is acting out. Let them sort out their relationship problems. Then

Your elves told you

that the far-away-girlfriend was coming back with hurt threatening the squeaky-geeky-boyfriend with talk, and anger swearing to find-that-bitch-and-slap-that-whore-you.

Your Ogre went

into apoplectic shock.

Your Dwarf-friend said,

“That ain’t right” and shrugged “What can you do?”

Your Honey said,

Ah shit. You might as well have fucked the geek but

You didn’t even fuck

that geek.

Your Honey said,

Life got you so trained to shut up and your empathy for the hurting-geek is making you cover the chicken-ass’s ass so that your beau-friend wouldn’t know therefore this shit he just pulled doesn’t happen to him but then it’s just your ass going to be kicked? Tsk, tsk.

You were quaking in your metaphorical-steel-toe-boots and died

because you took the girlfriend’s ambush-bitch-slapping like a guilty-catholic-whore and it shamed your cowering-scarlet-ass to death: NOT. But

You almost died from exasperation

because the girlfriend should really slap the boyfriend, not you. But the girlfriend was welcome to try to slap you and then you would hate your Ogre for defacing a girl. Then what the girlfriend would find out from your Honey would only hurt girlfriend more and then you would hate yourself more for that, too. Though

Your Maria-Clara-J-Lo transgender friend you called Butterfly morphed into Kicking Pinay and was getting ready to kick-box that chicken-ass to fatality and “That girlfriend too if one finger is laid on you! I don’t care whose chuvaness daughter she is!” But

You said,

“Knight-In-Shiva-Ganda ka pala. Nakakatakot pala temper mo ha. Thanks Butterfly, but no need…” Because

You knew your being bitch-and-whore-slapped would never happen

for that’s just more-scandal-causing-fantasy, and geeky-somebody probably made sure through some conciliatory-tactic that you and the truth wouldn’t be confronted by the technically-betrayed-girlfriend.

Your Honey says,

And the truth was--- well, the consequential version of it is geeky-somebody became cool-balls to all those geeky-eyes and precious-balls to the girlfriend-eyes, didn’t he. And the missed-perceived-neglecting-far-way-girlfriend came back pronto, didn’t she. Then they’re then more in love together the second time around after, weren’t they. Finally forever-branded-stalker-bitch-whore-you were left in peace like you wanted, weren’t you.

You did say to geeky-somebody,

You’re just like your cousin-kupalog.

Your Honey says,

At least kupalog didn’t have stalker-branding-avenging-girlfriend-episode.

You say

to Happy-Pixie now that these two somebody came from a good-looking-brood. That you see the once-kupalog-somebody in some friendly shindigs now and then. And that you air-kiss this now-committed-somebody’s hangdog-cheek every time in deference to bygones-etiquette. But you keep your distance. Because

You were tacitly crucified as an unfaithful-friendship-wrecking-whore

by this kupalog-somebody’s friends for a year following kupalog-disappearance in friendly shindigs and you just took it in the name of love and peace. And that was not enough so censuring-consensus was represented by guerilla-somebody to an accounting-ambush-you for what happened even a year after, a year before geeky-somebody happened.

Your Honey said,

You really should say your fuck-off-piece this time when it comes to this. And so

You had smiled then to the guerilla-representative,

“I’m not like you blue gentlemen pricks who would actually fuck around on your girlfriends and then pot-calling-kettle-call all those you fucked as sluts and whores. And by the way, does your girlfriend know you do that? Oh don’t you worry, I’m not going to tell. It’s none of my business after all. And I’m not going to tell my boyfriend about this because then he would go berserk and cut you off too. You know, your friend who was my friend is a coward who doesn’t even have the balls to face me ’til now but he just wanted to live up in a way to your cool and macho tradition of screwing around with your friends’ girlfriends. But I did love him as my friend. He didn’t get to fuck me, by the way. Or do you want to settle this is in a square-dance outside like men? I sure can do that dance and probably kill you. That would set back my Ogre-management-program but what the heck. No? Anything else? Okeydokey.”

Your Honey clapped a laugh,

Bitch-slapped!

You learned to laugh

at your painful kupalog-somebody-naiveté which you found out in between those two years from your Honey results in geeky-somebody-stupidity.

Your Honey said,

You already made that mistake. And so

You kept your mouth shut and really just boogied that geeky-somebody

into combo-mess-stop with tangchambaBOO!

You did want to say sorry for hurting the geek

and for the messed-with-mess-with-more-mess after because, hell, it’s just sick to scare geeks to realizations-to-the-reality-of-relationships and you liked the geek-before-becoming-chicken-ass, and your mania-for-harmony wanted clarity-and-peace-for-posterity. Also

You didn’t want the reaching-maximum-residency-rule-geek from running to AWOL

just to get away from scary-pissed-you and delay overdue-diploma and get blamed for that too. After all, geeky-somebody already ditched a critical-class with would-be-classmate-you. So

You wrote this letter

to clarify the quagmire. But

You were still pissed off

and you have an abnormal conscience. Therefore

You put your fictional writing skills

to non-academic-use and wrote a letter crafted to assuage geeky-achy-believing-to-have-been-played-heart-and-ego with freaky-besotted-sap and a bouquet then had them delivered to that chicken-ass’s class. And

Your elves reported that your hoping-for-guilt-into-guts-into-facing-you-goodies

were then delivered by a coin-operated-delivery-boy to the class’s T.S.Eliot-authority who thought it was for authority-self. So

You laughed,

Holy fucking shit. Then

You made sure you were never under T.S.Eliot-authority after

because your elves reported that the authority read the recounting-letter. But the T.S.Eliot-authority gave the letter with a finger-wagging-tsk-tsk to the-delivery-day-absent-geek after and stayed out of it like authority-should. And

Your elves reported that the bouquet was kept alive-in-water

by T.S.Eliot-authority. Then kept it because geeky-somebody offered it to T.S.Eliot-authority like a sweetie-elementary-schoolboy. Anyway

You disliked writing

letters more especially after. In fact, you were traumatized because

You fucker-betted-possibility-into-probability-into-reality

that geeky-somebody would talk about the quasi-fictionalized-letter among geeky-friends to be wow-stalker-really-fell-for-you-are-the-man-nyuk-nyuk-nyuk over.

Your Honey sighed,

There’s your Sorry. And

Your letter’s haunting-bemoaning-longing sure as hell allergy-scared you

so that would have surely stalker-scared the geek, too.

Your Honey smiled,

Then there’s your Fuck You.

You wondered if it would have been better if you just

ambushed the geek.

Your Honey said,

Oh, right, the chicken-ass was a Dutch Ball who kept on running from your “let’s talk” to begin with and would likely run farther screaming “stalker” if you’re within touching-range to geeky-person and have his girlfriend slap you for “stalking” her boyfriend. Or drop dead-in-mortification if ever and as if you would even acknowledge chicken-person with “hi”.

You also wanted to be nice

and prevent your Ogre from committing chicken-murder. And

You didn’t want to create more mess

from a mess that would not have happened if the un-messed was not messed with. Especially for Happy-pixie now who was then trapped-in-the-middle-new-girlfriend of the chicken-ass’s-best-friend. So

You left the geeky-somebody to bygones

minus etiquette after.

You shake your head

while laughing at “to talk things out like adults so that mess would be resolved instead of running away like chickens to hide in your caves in Mars and I’m the one who gets screwed over” being remembered as “stalking” by Dutch Balls.

Your Honey says that you can be really stupid sometimes

but that’s what college was for and sometimes life. And you can be smart sometimes too, huh? And so

You did make sure that none from your planet would know about geeky-screwmag-story

like the homicidal-homies you were rolling with and especially your temperamental-beau-friend because they would really have taken turns turning geeky-somebody into denotation-geek for what was-nothing-would-be-bygone-anyway. And

You never saw geeky-somebody again.

Ever. But who knows, maybe after these years you would.

You ask Happy-Pixie now as you stare at the pool if

the geeky-somebody whom you heard from your elves grew up to be a legal-liar is still scared shitless of you. Happy-Pixie laughs which means who wouldn’t have been so “Oh yeah.”

Your Ogre laughs,

Hope the chicken-shit got over being a chicken-shit.

You sigh,

Oh well.

Your Honey says that you know this shit just happens

all the time, then sometimes to you. And that this is really just

Your useless side of the story.

You laugh while shaking your head,

La.