previous  |  main  |  index  |  next

March 4, 2002 a face full of bile I once told someone I loved her only to have her reply, "How can you love me?  You don't even know me."  Had I not been a student of bad drama, I would have been stumped.  For most folks, the "you-don't-even-know-me" retort is a real conversation-stopper.  If you don't know the person you're talking to, and you're speaking of things about which a stranger would have no interest, why bother?  But I am not Most Folks and I grew up watching soap operas. On Days of Our Lives, Dr. Marlena Evans was, for reasons which now escape me, possessed by Satan.  You could tell possession was in progress when her usual beatific smile vanished and she growled insults in a voice like William Hickey on PCP.  The other soap opera characters were forever standing over Marlena-Satan (strapped to a hospital bed) demanding they be allowed to speak to the real Marlena Evans.  Sometimes the devil would oblige and let Marlena talk; sometimes he'd just spin her head around and spew. So when I learned I didn't know the person standing before me, a person who looked damned familiar, I demanded that I be allowed to speak to the real object of my affection.  And it almost worked.  I did get a response. A belch of sulfur and a face full of bile.

©  2002 by the beastmaster