Posted in Almost Dorothy

Ma Unmasked

Benoit Izard | Photo by Neil de la FlorThis is what ma looks like when she is her real self. This is how she drinks when she drinks glittery water. This is ma unmasked and unconcerned about the promise of another day. This is ma on the line between decency and decadent. This is ma between the yellow shoe and the black wall. This is ma stripped of her shield and soul-binding stuff. This is ma in pretty shoes. This is ma after work and during work when she has nothing left to lose. This is ma. The wo|man I look up to and upon. This is the great transmutable ma. Always the center of every frame and photograph and the entire human universe.

Posted in Almost Dorothy

Gollum Inaugurated Governor of Florida

Gollum (Rick Scott)

Rick Scott, also known as Gollum from the Lord of the Rings, is now the 45th Governor of the State of Florida. Ma and I ran out and got all of our abortions done before he bans women from the right to choose, to work, to eat and, most importantly, to make out with whoever we want. We also got ma a third and fourth job because he’ll probably close down all the titty bars and elementary schools where ma works. Ma’s not a teacher but she’s got a Ph.D in bullshit. Gollum says he wants to get Florida back to work. Just in case Gollum is an idiot, we’re already working. Gollum, we’re already working! What we’re missing are social services to keep us afloat and healthy. Yes, the same socialist systems you stole from, Herr Gollum, like Medicare, Medicaid and Healthy Kids.

Ma says leave Rick Scott alone. He’s just a billionaire Medicare scam artist who spent $60 million dollars of his own money (which he stole from the federal government) (which are the hard earned tax dollars ma paid into a system Gollum wants to destroy) on his campaign for governor. Now Rick Scott is the chief executive of one of the largest states in the United States and he’s also on record as the chief executive of HCA/Healthcare which received the biggest fine from the federal government–$1.7 billion. Rick Scott also funded “Conservatives for Patients Rights” to fight President Obama’s healthcare reform. Gollum wants ma and I to go without healthcare , deny choice and right to access. I guess he prefers ma sick so she can spread her mental illnesses across the State. It’s not a good state ma is in and Rick Scott doesn’t care otherwise why would he rip off Medicare and fund an organization dedicated to stopping national healthcare reform.

He won’t even say whether or not homosexuality is immoral. He won’t even admit that he likes cats. Creep.

Anyway, ma and I wish Rick Scott lots of luck because we love our State of Florida–our perpetual state of disrepair and dope fiends. We hope he won’t ruin it and cut our healthcare and education systems. He probably will. He’ll probably cut thousands of essential government jobs. He’s already said that’s at the top of his list. And he’ll probably blame people like ma and me for lowering the moral character of this great nation of ours. Which is fine. Ma and I are going to go into the multi-billion dollar Medicare fraud business and one day we’ll earn the same respect Rick Scott gets, the Governorship of Florida. 2.5 million Floridians are idiots. Yes, every one of you who voted for him, including ma. Let the games begin, Florida. I wish you luck, my little precious.

Posted in Almost Dorothy, Characters, Family, The Mother, Themes

Birth of Mama Dorothy

Mama D. was born in Hudson County, New Jersey, that’s what her certificate says. I have no idea where Hudson County is however it must be close to the Hudson River or wishes it were close. When Mama D.’s birth mother gave her up she probably didn’t know Mama D. would one day become Waitress of the Year at the Irish Pub, rated Best Boobs at Rocky’s Diner two years in a row till Sheila got hired, or find a hundred dollars in the neighbor’s front yard. She didn’t know Mama D. would grow up to be the best mom in the world on Tuesdays. She didn’t know Mama D.’s favorite book would be Great Expectations.

The other day I found a baby doll that looked like a real baby but it was missing a foot and a few fingers. The baby doll had real fake hair, dirty blond, and had a fat face with blood shot black rat eyes. The blood shot effect was clearly added with a red pen for special effect. I wondered why its foot was missing, crudely cut away with a jagged little knife or human teeth, clearly by someone sick and with a digital fetish.

Who would eat a baby doll’s foot? A cannibal child-beast? Big Foot?

moms birth certificate 5 PC EFFECT

So anyway, today, I was snooping in moms room. I found her birth certificate in her underwear drawer beneath pushup bras and bags of pot. Mom’s not a dealer but she won’t hesitate to sell to a friend in need, at least that’s what I’ve seen, but I won’t tell anyone about her business ventures. Mom hates to smoke and won’t tolerate smoke on her best dresses but that doesn’t mean she won’t let loose when the time is right. She hates to be alone when she gets home from work so she wakes me up and makes me read her to sleep. She hates to be alone in the dark so she sleeps with the lights on. “I want to die with friends,” she says. “In a big flambe.”

Mama D. is fond of luck and watermelon lipstick, of finding things meant for others, like abandoned earrings or 14 karat gold pendants. “I deserve this,” she always says when she finds something hot. I think she does, most of the time, but not always. I never call Mama D. Mama D. but I might start if she doesn’t stop.

“I’m worth more than I’m worth, child.” That’s her principal creed and Hubba Bubba is her favorite chewing gum. I hate gum and the power of words and second hand smoke. I hate that she needs a creed to lift her soul.

“This is my biological mom,” she said, pointing to the space for her mother’s thumbprint on her birth certificate next to the space for the footprint of the baby. “I had small feet,” she said, as she yanked that damn birth certificate from my hand. “Now look at me.” And I did. And I couldn’t imagine how she could have had such small feet, just a tad bigger than her mother’s thumb, an infant as small as the baby doll I found a few days ago.

moms birth certificate 5 PC FOOT

“Stay out of my fucking drawer you dumb kid. Or I’ll cut you!” she hollered, meaning it and not at the same time while she sprayed a little regurgitated coffee of my cheek. I hate when mom speaks and when she belittles me in front of her past, ghosts and ghouls, tiny elephants in the room.

She looked haphazardly at her birth certificate and got spooked, flinched as if she saw an alien face jump off the page, mind freak, an acid flashback of her mother’s face postpartum perhaps. With bare hands she diligently folded the certificate with her baby footprint, tucked it beneath her bras and bags of pot, and closed the drawer.

“Safe at last,” she said as fucking serious as I’ve never heard her before. “And don’t touch those fucking bras, Sweet Toes. Or I’ll eat your little fingers for dinner.”

I swore I would never touch her bras again or wear one even if I were to grow really big boobs.

“Impossible,” she said. “Look at these.”