Wednesday, November 18, 2015

These Motherf*@%ing White Crew Neck Sweatshirts are Going to Change our Goddamn Lives.

Shelly slightly shifted her eyes towards the sounds of a cardboard box being slammed down on the rough hewn, shabby chic kitchen table. She barely reacted to Meri’s strange fits anymore. Meri would go days and days fixated on the screen of her blue clamshell iBook, pouring over “manuscripts” for her job as “Senior Captain Acquisitions Editor at Publishers R Us” before suddenly jumping into a bizarre task, expecting Shelly to follow. Shelly was beginning to wonder if Meri was actually even employed, but she knew better than to question her at this point. Anyway, Shelly would have to stir out of this disturbingly comforting brain fog in order to ask questions, and the fog was starting to feel like an old friend. The sound of acrylic nails ripping through cardboard and clear tape roused her enough for Shelly to turn her head fully. She saw a bright white flash as a thick fabric square was pulled out of the box. With a quick flick of the wrist, Meri unfurled a white crew-neck sweatshirt, lined with creases where it had been long folded. The smell of stale chemicals hit Shelly’s nose as a matching white square was flung into her lap.  Meri calmly stated with dead eyes “These motherf*&%ing white crew neck sweatshirts are going to change our goddamn lives.”


It was Day 5, post sweatshirt, and Shelly didn’t know how long she could keep going. Constant power walking, through meadows and forests, along the tiny coastline of the island, up steep bluffs, fists clenched, hips swaying back and forth, walk walk walk walk. The sweatshirts were still white, so white, glowing in the moonlight. Everything else was dim and dark, but not the sweatshirts. Nothing could mar their glowing surface. “These will keep us safe” Meri explained, “We can go wherever we want on the island now. Even in the dark, we will be unharmed.” 




Day 8, and Shelly was so tired. They slept during the day and walked at night. But it wasn’t enough, she couldn’t keep going. Meri now shrieked at a continuous high tone during the night walks, later she explained it was her “quiet time with God.” 

Day 20 and holes were starting to form in her tennis shoes, but still the sweatshirt glowed. 

Day 23 and she started to develop a plan. It was the whiteness that bound them as much as it protected them. 

Day 25 and she put her plan in place.

walk
walk
walk
walk
walk
walk
plan
plan
plan
plan

Day 28 and as Meri made it to the top of a rocky precipice, her perfect sweatshirt perfectly white, Shelly finally struck. She pulled a hidden thermos of Irish Breakfast tea out from beneath the depths of her glowing white sweatshirt and flung its steamy brown contents at Meri’s sweatshirt. Meri screamed in agony as the sweatshirt immediately burst into flames. Shelly fell to her knees and tears streamed down her face as she poured the rest of the tea onto her own heaving, sweatshirt clad chest. “Lord forgive us” she screamed as the smoke obscured her vision.

The next morning the two sisters lay sprawled on the edge of the precipice, motionless. A bright white butterfly, flew down and gently landed on each of the sister’s soot-smudged cheeks. Shelly gasped as air rushed into her lungs, choking into consciousness. Meri did the same, and immediately began vomiting. After the sisters shakily stood to their feet, Meri whispered “I think it’s time we found...Jonathan.”


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