Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Wonton Stepford Wife

I know the forecast for tomorrow says it's supposed to be brightly sunny, but all I can picture is settling into the 55102.
What begins as a drizzle develops into fatter, denser raindrops that muddy my new lawn. From the darkness there's movement. A rustling sound comes from under the neighbor's freshly raked leaves. I sit, tucked in to my couch. Swathed in a blanket. There's movement in the shrubs, crawling on the pavement, the sidewalk, soon I'll hear the almost inaudible chanting. They scrape up the stairs, crawling, caked on mud dripping onto the entryway, "one of us.... one of us..." Paul's white hair has slicked to his forehead in the rain, stark, black eyebrows arched. Peggy's fingers are curled, and pawing, reaching. Joey's eyes are rolled back into his head as he lurches forward. Zara and Ned are stumbling, their baby legs struggling in the muck, wayward teeth peaking through their gums. Pushing themselves forward. "One of us... one of of us...." It's because I stole him away from them. It's because I needlessly mocked their beloved home town. There is a punishment owed to me for never having worn a wool pleated skirt, for not knowing a single nuns name. There's a thud at the back door and a scraping on the window. "One of us... one of us... one of us...."
Will my friends even recognize me, disfigured by my selfishness, shivering in my heathen, secular ways? Whatever is to become of me?!
"One of US... One of US... One of US......"
I could hide, but where would I go? There's no way out! They're here! They're HERE!!!"
"One of US! One of US! ONE OF US!!!!!"


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