HIGH HEEL DEAD DROP — FORTUNATO SALAZAR
/They came to substitute one extinguisher for another. Just like that, the old extinguisher was gone, its fall softened by training and more training. Thanks a bunch! And the marshmallows were so gooey that she thought she might have heat stroke soon. She really needed a break.
No, what she really needed was a fun-filled round of scratching at her rash, in nothing but her tan lines. Fuck! She was both allergic to and addicted to marshmallows. A very good friend of her sister who was also an enemy of her sister had introduced her to marshmallows.
As for her other preferences, they would have to wait. She felt too lazy to break the seal so she stretched the box while kicking it in. Inside the box was something that looked like it needed to get accustomed to living in the vicinity of humans. Never mind, she had her share of anxious bitterness.
That was truly scary, the way her eyes watered when she got pushy, which happened when she was in this kind of mood…pushy and huge and stomping on a whole delicious commune of marshmallows…stomping for real as opposed to a listless round of stomping.
Whoa, it was so hot indoors that the barbecue set was melting! No wonder she couldn’t shake the gnats! The gnats were attracted to the aroma of the melting barbecue set. And just when she’d been working up to launch into the barbecue set with her entire collection of boots!
*
Or wait, maybe she’d put a dent into a batch of overflowing marshmallows, then make a nuisance of herself at her sister’s. Her sister was exhausted but not too exhausted to complain about the scabs, all that leisurely scratching while snacking.
If only she could get these clothes off, she would do something about the blue bruises, because they were beginning to look sparse. Okay, she would multiply the bruises, but first she needed to get out of these clothes. She would adopt some fun new bruises, chubby little bruises!
Something squealed from the direction of the batch she’d totally forgotten about. How had she lost sight of a whole batch?! It would take a month to pay off that debt! Meanwhile, she was looking down the barrel of tomorrow! She didn’t need a break, she needed an exorcism!
At the same time, the inside of her skin felt lined with marshmallows, that’s what the heat did to her chest. What she really needed was a vacation where her hair would fly every which way while she pummeled something like a springboard, only less forgiving, a springboard that had made some serious resolutions.
One little peek into the sink. Ouch! The mottled brown flow from the ceiling fan had reached the sink, almost. Enough negative thinking! It was time to rip out the ceiling fan! First, though, some emergency takeout. Wait, she’d left her phone inside the barbecue set! Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!
Fortunato Salazar lives in Los Angeles and has recent fiction at, or soon at, Tin House, New World Writing, Spork, Hobart, Juked, Corium and elsewhere.
