The Disorder

It was like the wind had been knocked out of me. My head spun around and I heard people laughing, or rather cackling, in the background. I'd visited Dr. James earlier that afternoon and she'd told me that I suffered from a compulsive fetish disorder, or something like that. Compulsive- fetish, compulsive- fetish, C-O-M-P-U-L-S-I-V-E - F-E-T-I-S-H - D-I-S-O-R-D-E-R. So what if I make a big deal out of little things? In my world everything is perfect. Disorder means abnormality, perfection is not abnormal, so I just let it slide.

The black Jag raced down the road, top off. The wind whipped my long, gold, tentacle like hair, making my face sting, yet in a somewhat pleasing manner. I was alone, aside from Georgie, who was sitting beside me, but the night made me feel like I was swimming in a dark pool amid hundreds of people, suddenly I was cramped. "Move over Georgie!" I said. He gave me a look, smiles in his eyes, and cracked a grin. It was then that I realized how much Georgie looked like the Cheshire cat in Alice in Wonderland. Sighing I turned my head, the world seemed so distorted these days.

I picked up my medicine; the cigarette was hard between my lips. I seemed to be dancing along the skyline, having no control over my body, just feeling the waves. I exhaled a great cloud of silky gray air that wove in and out of my hair. All I saw then were lights flashing by, one by one, and then a blur of stars, angels falling from the sky, sound was irrelevant. There was, I think, screaming, crying, snickering invading my mind when all of a sudden someone tapped my shoulder. The world stopped, and so did the "music" I had started to hear in the distance. From somewhere in a dimension next to mine a sentence was dropped into the atmosphere - "Hey babe get up, its a rest stop, Circle K, I think, were gonna buy some gas."

"Not now Georgie it's too dammed early," I heard myself say. It was too dammed cold too, I heard myself think. I was in a desert it should be hot, or at least it seemed to me, but it wasn't. Icicles appeared to be everywhere, even on the rear view mirror. I couldn't feel my left hand, and my head was throbbing, too much alcohol. I rolled my eyes metal balls, 1 millimeter in diameter, seemed to clanged together within my temples. One -- thirty a.m., it's very cold. I got up, the Jag's black leather seat sticking to my bare back, "Shouldn't have worn a tube top I've got frost on my shoulders," I said.

"No Genna it's just the moon light," Georgie said bluntly.

"Its too dark for there to be a moon Georgie," I replied, lifting myself out of the car. My head spun around and I heard people laughing, or rather cackling, in the background. "Georgie make sure you get a full tank its gonna be a hell of a long night." He smiled as he watched me slam the door to the Jag shut and walk towards the service station. I could feel the cat's sly suggestion burn right through the back of my head, but I didn't turn around.

"Genna," Georgie cried out, "don't forget the Malamars this time!" Then I smiled.

The guy (that is the gas-station clerk) seemed glued into his 99 cent, buy one get one free, high chair. He was enormous and seemed covered by nickel-sized pockmarks. He reminded me of a big chunk of salami. I was going to be sick, but then I tilted my head back and glared a moment into the florescent lights flickering along the ceiling, focusing my thoughts. My head spun around and I heard people laughing, or rather cackling, in the background... "Alcaseltzer?" he said.

Then I, muttering under my breath, "Dear god, the salami's talking."

"What's that?" he said.

"Sorry, do you have a deli?" I replied.

"In the back, " he told me and confirmed with a nod in the direction.

I reared my frigid body towards "the back." My feet, I found, became two stones embedded in the earth, it must have been the medicine. When I got to the back there was a woman slapping meat, something brown, lacking solidity, while she absorbed the ultraviolet. "What are you watching?" I asked.

"Some press conference - help you?" asked the lady. I realized then that I had made a mistake, a wrong turn, I was concentrating too hard. I stood there for a solid 2 minutes, I think, just staring at the screen, watching the patterns on Clinton's face flash by and become smaller, more complex, little circles and spirals engraving secret messages into my brain.

"Are you all right, miss?" I slowly dragged my eyes from the screen; everything seemed funny looking, fuzzy, as if covered by mold. The lady over the counter had a twisted expression, like she'd eaten some bad candy. I think she was scared.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I have a disorder... I just remembered all I need are some Malamars and I've got all the meat I can handle for now." I grinned and she grinned back, I noticed she was missing a tooth. A "D-I-S-O-R-D-E-R," I repeated the word in my head over and over and over again. The echo seemed comforting.

Walking back to the car, after paying the gigantic salami for the Malamars, gas and all, I realized it was going to be a beautiful night. Georgie leaned towards the passenger side and opened the door. I sat down as the tires began screeching and dust spun away, swirling endlessly into space. Georgie put his hand on my leg; I shivered and couldn't stop shaking with excitement. Tilting my head back I lit another stick of medicine. My head spun around and I heard people laughing, or rather cackling, in the background. I figured then that no disorder could make my world any less perfect.