Friday, January 14, 2005

Oh my God, I think aliens have abducted me. I’m too petrified to open my eyes and see what they have done to my body. My whole body aches. It must be the thousands of pins shoved in my muscles. I saw that once on TV. It was an exposé of alien abductees. I can’t believe this is actually happening to me. I’m usually so boring but this will change everything. At school I won’t just be the freak with the piercings; I will be the freak with the piercings who was kidnapped by intergalactic organisms! Maybe I’m still dreaming and this is a horrible nightmare. Wake up, wake up, wake up.

Shit, we’re moving. I hope they are taking me back home because the spin of the ship is making me nauseous. My head can’t seem to move, so if I vomit, it will be on myself. Hopefully this will pass. I don’t want some three-fingered, scaly, green hand poking through my puke.

My head really hurts. I mean really hurts. Oh no, I bet it’s because of an internal monitoring system attached to the back of my skull! I bet I have at this moment a freaking hole in the back of my head. This is a violation of my rights as a human being. I wonder if international law applies to interplanetary issues.


Something just tried to communicate with me. This is unbelievable! It came from my right side and it was right beside my ear. I’ll just pretend to be asleep, that way maybe they will get bored and send me home.

“Ny... Julie? Kainaimovovapees?”

Well, that didn’t work. I can’t fake being asleep because they are monitoring my brain. Good thing they nabbed me: Einstein of the twenty-first century. I should stop being so scared and just look at them. After all, if I never make it home again, at least I will have some visuals during my last moments.

Uh-oh, my eyelashes are glued shut. It must be some sort of intergalactic prank. Disorient the subject by removing all sense of time. Just leave bright white lights on full blast to annoy her. It’s working quite well. The light that is somehow seeping through my eyelids is only intensifying my headache. Wait a minute, I think I am ungluing one. Yes! I have vison on my right side. Not very good vision, but I am not picky. I can move my head now too!

The alien is right beside me. From what I can make out, it’s hairy and is excreting a raunchy smell. Kind of like stale beer and cigarettes. My vision is getting better by the second and its features are looking human-like. Actually, quite ape-like.

Oh my God. It’s not an alien. It’s my boyfriend, Steve. They’ve got him too! Couldn’t they have just taken him?

Oh my God. I’m not on a ship. I’m in my bedroom. And obviously crazy. And severely nauseous.
Aha! By Jove, I think I’ve got it! Clearly, I am hung over.

“Julie. Move over.” The previously undecipherable language was in fact Steve’s lovely morning voice. Good morning to you too, asshole.

I force my body into cooperation and I stumble in the vague direction of a toilet.
No wonder I have so many bruises. The thousand watt bulbs in my bathroom sear into my eyeballs and blind me. I am the first ever ugly newborn kitten. I struggle to see but I can't help but hit anything and everything in my path.

I would like to say thanks to whoever invented running tap water. It is so amazing. Every drop kisses my face. I would like to say a ‘fuck you’ to whoever invented mirrors. I am revolting. I look like a stoned drag queen.

My new look should scare Steve out of my house. My so-called love of my life crashes here every time he gets drunk. Once he wakes up, he’s angry and blames me for not taking him home. I should invest in a video camera so that he will see what an impossibly stubborn drunk he is.

“Steve. Get up.” No movement. Maybe he’s dead. “Steve. Get the hell out of bed.”

“Jesus Christ Jules, I’m up.”

“You weren’t last night.” Oh no. I think I said that out loud. Damn it, I did. Last night’s events begin to resurface and they are making me sick again.

The beast is moving. At least I got him out of bed.

“Screw you, Julie.” I could barrage him with insulting comments right now, but I think I will save my breath for worthy causes.

As awful mornings are with Steve, there is something so comical about the way he gets up. He has to fight with the blankets, then he swears at his pants when they won’t put themselves on.

I follow him downstairs once he’s located all his belongings to be greeted by my adoring family. Gosh mornings are so great. The whole bunch of us get to interact with each other in one room.

“Bye Steve.” I love how my mother tries so hard to like him. She smiles at him, she makes him food, she even says good bye to the slamming door. I know she hates him. I do too.

I sit down at the table and try to massage coherent thoughts back into my skull.

“Hung over are we?”

“Shut up, Sam.” Meet my brother. Loud, nasal and obnoxious. Put on this world to give me a sneak preview of hell.

A steaming plate of bacon, toast, hash browns and eggs are plunked down under my face. Nothing like grease on a morning like this. The yolks of my eggs are breaking free and are trying to drown my bacon. Little brown crisps floating in yellow death. My hash browns are begging to be smushed with my fork. I will crush them like unsuspecting ants. I AM THE BRINGER OF CRUSHING DEATH!

I think my mother is glaring again. Yup, and she is ever so happy to meet my glance.

“Julia, what in the Lord’s name were you doing until five in the morning?”
If I could remember, I would tell her.

“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know the details of your reckless behaviour.”

Wow, that was easy. My mother’s questioning periods usually last much longer. Thank God Dad is nothing like her. He doesn’t care what I do outside of the house. He is just happy when I’m home. Which is strange when you think about the fact that he is rarely home himself.

“Dad, did you watch the game last night?”


“Oh. I thought you would. You were talking about it all week.”

“Things came up, Jules.”

Things. Riiiight. Things. Here’s my cue to smile and nod.

“What things?” My mother has that tone of voice again. The one that makes our dog scamper out of the room. “Well? What things came up last night, Jeff?” Now I know why she let me off the hook. She’s mad again because Dad wasn’t home last night.

“Work issues, sweetie.” I have just been blinded by the glare off my Dad’s teeth, bared in a classic game-show smile.

“I’m going to Irwin’s house.” With that, Sam, otherwise known as Geekboy, is rocketing out of his chair to dilligently scrape his wasted food into the garbage.

I prefer to call ‘Irwin’ by his full name: Irwin Elman. It seems much more fitting.

Irwin Elman is our next-door neighbour whom I suspect is engaging in a love affair with my brother. All under the nose of my unsuspecting mother who considers herself to be very close friends with Irwin Elman. Sam “talks” for hours on end with this man who slightly resembles George Clooney. Whenever I ask Sam about his rendez-vous with Irwin Elman, he blushes and tells me to ‘fuck off’. Personally, I think that is a great way to have your first sexual relationship. The man is very good looking and possesses years and years and years of experience. I have even told Sam this. However, it only increased his overall resentment of my blunt and truthful personality.

“Tell Irwin I say hello.” Oh God, her naivety is nauseating. Or it could be the bacon. “Irwin is such a nice man. Jeff, you should really think about acting a little more like Irwin. He actually listens to me.”

“Are you saying I don’t?” The door slams behind Sam adding to the tension of their conversation. This almost makes me want to hang around here more often. This is quite entertaining.

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