.
                           .         a n a d a  1 4 7        0 9 - 0 7 - 0 0
                           .
  . .   . . .    . .    . .    . .
 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .               "Scheherazade"
 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .
  . . .  .   .   . . .  . . .  . . .                by Infernal


  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

        "I know my folk tales, my filmy legends, third-hand as you do.  I
 know that Abe Lincoln sprouted from the forehead of Zeus and slew Goliath so
 the Israelites could sell opium in China, or something like that.  And
 somewhere, in this uneducated, dust-bunny corner of my mind, I remember the
 tale of Scheherazade."

 . . . . .

        "You gonna watch Conan?"

        "I wasn't gonna, I've got some work I wanna get done."

        "Hey, you mind if I crash on the couch for a day or two?  I've gotta
 get out of my place man, it's killing me."

        "Hey, sure, cool, no problem."

 . . . . .

        "Scheherazade was captured, or maybe just born into her shit luck, I
 wish I could remember.  All I know is, she was gonna get married to this
 dude, right, this goofy-ass motherfucker, and his whole thing, his bag, was,
 like, marry some hottie one night, and totally cut her goddamn head off the
 next day!  Like, hey, sorry about the honeymoon, sweet tits, and ya got a
 sister?  What the fuck ever.  Like I'd chop the head off any chick that'd
 gimme the good time.  Fuck that shit.  I learned one thing in this life, and
 it's that you gotta treasure t'ree things: a hot shower, a clean pair o'
 socks and a tight pussy.  The rest, mon frere, is just details, just the
 fuckin' details..."

 . . . . .

        "Hey, while you was takin' a dump, I went to the Quick Stop."

        "Oh yeah?"

        "Yeah, I bought some more beer.  Is that cool?  Oh, and I, uh, put
 some frozen pizzas and some Pita Pockets in the freezer.  You know, so I
 don't eat yer food and shit.  That's cool, right?"

 . . . . .

        "Only the thing is, this Scheherazade chick, she's got her fuckin'
 head on straight, right?  And she ain't lettin' Prince Limp-Dick here cut it
 off.  Ya know what I'm sayin'?  So she remembers that old joke, you ever
 hear it?  How do you keep a Polack in suspense?  Huh?  Huh?  See, that's the
 joke.  Ha HA!!  Cause you keep askin' what, and you're in suspense, and
 'cause -- well, anyway."

 . . . . .

        "Man, I'm goin' off to bed, man, I'm beat."

        "No, come on, you gotta watch this show with me, this uptight shrink
 bitch is, like, totally ridiculous.  She's always givin' these people, like,
 thirty second answers to their problems and shit.  And they take calls,
 and..."

        "Weren't you gonna get up early and stuff?"

        "Yeah... hey, fuck it, though, we got some beer, right?  Like you
 gotta get up in the morning..."

 . . . . .

        "So this Scheherazade, she starts telling dude this story, right?
 Only she ends it on one of those, those, you know, cliff hangers.  And the
 dude's like, 'so what the fuck happens?'  And she says 'You ain't gonna find
 out unless you let me live so I can tell you tomorrow.'  All this adventure,
 all that plot, all locked up in her fuckin' head!  So he, you know, lets her
 live, and every night she tells him some story without no ending, and before
 you know it, she's been around that place, like, a LONG-ASS time."

 . . . . .

        "You crashin'?"

        "Yeah dude, it's almost five."

        "But I didn't finish telling you about my screenplay.  Like, in the
 climax part, the hero comes over to the female lead and says -- "

        Snore.

        I put a blanket over my drunken, snoozing friend, my couch-surfing
 compatriot, a new and welcomed reason to stop screaming at the walls and
 storming around the place, naked and furious.  The presence of other people
 always forces a little structure, decorum and protocol, upon a life that
 might have otherwise spun off into the ether unnoticed.  Later, I'll resent,
 I'll be irritated and I'll think up hollow excuses to evict.

        For now, though, I need that human contact, and I'll spin every tale
 I have to to keep it close to me, to keep me from dissipating totally into
 the damp night air.  I'll spin tales to keep from cutting my own head off in
 the morning.

  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
                                                                             
  .           anada 147                   by Infernal  (c)2000 anada e'zine .
      
  . . w w w . a n a d a . n e t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .