She Was.


CHAPTER 40.

Carrie Fisher, Carol Burnett, Ruth Buzzi and Barbra, all rolled into one potato bug, from a town where stupendous lived next door to mediocre and across the street from feeble and nobody knew the difference except the crone on the corner keeping tabs.

Her family: Toy Story. Original script. Stuffed animals, wind ups, and a nearly dead parrot delivered their dogma by the light of a single, sectarian light bulb hanging over the kitchen table. Mr. Incredible, waiting in the wings to scoop up the most demure among all women, already coolly rejecting her for her swarthy complexion and dark stare, the cowboy too weak kneed to capture even a passing glance, Mr. Potato Head would love her with his whole tuber and she would never know.

Vanity: her middle name. If there were a mirror, she was near it; were there competitively symmetrical women in the room, she would be unsettled. Some synergy of self doubt and grandiosity had entrenched, and crystallization was imminent; only Marianne Williamson, in person, could save her. The real issue: was she worth the rescue?

From age two, crayon in hand, her head had exploded with intricate, cinematic narrative. Barely able to fit the words onto the white space surrounding the always centered image on the page, syntax to the wind, her first attempt dictating to a marveling mother demanded the correct spelling for everything.

The earliest of her best efforts were lost. Somewhere between acquiring the Pontiac Ventura custom painted blue and trading it in for a creme toned Sunbird, the paper grocery bag filled with the precious college journal, Ebony penciled drawings, poems, and her fledgling essays would remain in the trunk with the vintage tin child’s kitchen and the navy blue laced wedged sandals as the car rolled off the lot. This was the charter for parsing out, but nobody would tell her a thing.

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© 3/21/19  Ruth Ann Scanzillo.    All rights those of the author, who was, and whose name appears above this line.  Thank you for remembering.

littlebarefeetblog.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3 thoughts on “She Was.

    1. Really. Yeah. The best stuff gets lifted, ripped off, and reconstituted by the Ugly and Powerful, as ZOOLON so articulates in his latest lyric…..go visit his site. He writes music. Good stuff, indeed – so stark. I believe he lives in Britain, as well.

      Liked by 1 person

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