||[Apr. 21st, 2008|04:44 pm]
It isn't unusual for girls to be grossed out by maggots. But my friend is a different sort of girl and has a different sort of reason why. |
2 interesting stories from a person I care for back West.
(Name withheld at her request)
More than you wanted to know, I'm sure.
Have a seat, children. It's story time.
Yesterday evening, we were cleaning house when I noticed some oranges I had put in a bowl on dining room table had gone bad. I simply lifted the bowl and tossed the oranges into the trash bin without touching them. When I looked in the bottom of the bowl, I noticed little white grains of rice.
Except the weren't grains of rice. They were fruit fly larvae.
Mind you, my brain just went ape shit and decided they were maggots. I threw the bowl in the sink, made a half-audible scream-cry-squeal noise, ran into the dark guest bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed shivering, groaning and trying to rip my skin off. I ran to take a shower but I knew I would have to pass the kitchen where they were so I just continued to freak out in my own special way.
[Joe was really good about all of this. I cannot express how much I love that man.]
When Jeromy and I went to New Orleans in the fall of 1996, his car was broken into. He called the cops about it and -since it was illegal- it got towed. He and I got into a fight about how idiotic he was for calling the fuzz in first place, so he got his car out and left me there. Broke and alone in a city I'd visited once. I wasn't on speaking terms with my parents and all the friends I had were a)broke and b)in Houston. So I was stuck there. At least for a week or so.
My first night there, I wandered around and begged for change. Not a lot of luck. The fight had left me with a bit of a swollen and bloodied lip so I wasn't exactly presentable. I hunkered down in an alley near the Square and tried to rest against the wall. About three seconds after my eyes closed, I was being kicked and punched. Apparently, new squatters weren't welcome in that part of town. I wandered town like a scalded dog looking for some place to sleep without getting beaten or arrested.
It started to rain. I was already cold and under-dressed. I found a dumpster and squeezed myself beneath it. It served as a place to hide and a shelter to keep me dry. The rats thought it was great, too, but they were far more friendly than the other bums and NOPD. I slept off and on until I couldn't breathe anymore. I was squeezed into the 8" or so between soggy, smelly concrete and dripping, rotting metal and my body was just about done with that nonsense.
I shimmied from beneath it. I picked maggots out of my hair. They were on my face and chest and arms and legs. Some had even managed to crawl up my shorts and into my ears. I stripped down to my underwear in the alley, shook out my clothes, stood under the freezing rain and let it clean the creepy crawlies off of me.
A boy with a blue mohawk rescued me. He told me to call him 'Pitch'. He took me to an abandoned warehouse and introduced me to five or six other gutter punks. They gave me liquor to warm me, flannels to keep me that way and weed to help me sleep. I gave them the $5 I had collected sparing for change earlier that day as a thanks.
I hung with them for a few days. A few left, a few more came. It was very cyclical. Pitch was the only one who stayed all the days I was there. I finally swallowed my pride and called my mom. She called Jeromy and gave him $200 to come pick me up and that was that.
Most of you know I did a stint in prison. Not a few nights in jail, eight and a half months in a women's correctional facility in Upstate Illinois. I was a bit of a troubled girl at the time and didn't exactly follow all the rules when I first arrived. I was mostly just angry because I didn't feel I was supposed to be there (which has since been motherfucking proven... can we say "expunged", class?).
After fighting a few times with the guards, attempting not to be fucked or fondled, I was put in lock-down. Just me and a cell and a bed and shitter. I think I remember having a small window to the top right of my hole. I remember it being dimly lit about 6 hours of the day. The rest of the time, it was dank and dark.
They would shove a paper plate with a bologna sandwich (white bread, meat, white bread) and a dixie cup of tap water through the door twice a day. One day, after a particularly horrid episode of fighting and screaming with a guard, I bit into my sandwich to find it moving inside my mouth. The meat was rotten and covered in maggots. I heaved and screamed and clawed at my tongue. The guards shone their flashlights in my face and busted their guts with laughter.
The next time you tell me that Johnny Law is on my side, you think about that.
Anyway, the place has since been shut down and the warden, three psychiatrists and 30% of the guards were accused of torturing inmates -psychologically and otherwise- and imprisoned themselves. While that particular bit of news is pleasing in and of itself, I would be filled with rainbows and sunshine if I knew they were locked up with the same bitches they head fucked for years.
So yeah... while maggots are gross and disgusting to most, they reeeeaaaallly don't belong any where around me. I'm just glad this didn't happen at someone else's place or while we had company over.
There's my shiny happy story for the day. Sweet dreams, kiddies.