Tuesday, February 28, 2012

~ Kristen ~ StrangeLittleStories

“Fucking jack offs!” I screamed.

I cranked my stereo volume up to full blast. I’m tired of being blamed for things I don’t do! I’m tired of losing jobs! I’m tired of abusive boyfriends! I’m just plain sick of life! Years ago, when I went through a real bad time, our parents were still alive and I decided to go away. Actually, I checked myself into a mental health clinic. I couldn’t cope with life. I couldn’t cope with my drug problem. I couldn’t cope with my bitchy sister. I just couldn’t cope!

I ripped my dress clothes off , threw them across the room and went digging through my dirty laundry for a pair of jeans and t-shirt to wear. A month’s worth of laundry, again...as usual...to do because of no money. There was nothing in the house to eat. Karen can’t work because of her stupid health problems, so she didn’t have any money. We have to do something. I have to get us money. If we don’t pay rent, we’re gonna get evicted and I am NOT going to go through THAT again!

I started crying hysterically. It’s not fair! Life’s just not fucking fair! I began kicking the wall, then punching it until my knuckles began to swell with pain. I flopped onto my bed and buried my head in my pillow. Maybe I could suffocate myself to death.

Yeah right, whatever! I rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. I had to come up with some plan. I had to! Just had to! I closed my eyes and tried to block out everything. My music was so loud that if Karen was screaming at me to turn it down, I’d never hear her. Think...think...think...what to do?

My music suddenly stopped playing. I opened my eyes and sat up. Karen was standing by my dresser where my stereo was located.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Don’t bitch at her...she had nothing to do with this. It was bad enough that her poor life was messed up with doctors and such.

“Karen, we just can’t go on without money. I have to go and get some from somewhere. I won’t go to a bank, I could drive to some small town and hold up a convenience store. Those small town stores never have cameras. I’ll come up with a disguise, so I won’t be recognized, just in case.”

“You’re nuts! You’ll never get away with it!”

“Sure I will, people do it all the time and never get caught.”

“Oh really now? You’re an expert on this? I had no idea.”

“Fuck you, Karen. I’m trying to save us for at least a month! I’ll find a job somehow. We need money NOW!”

Karen shook her head. “I don’t want to be apart of anything like that. It’s...it’s just not right!”

I jumped up and went over to my closet to dig out my shoebox that held my gun and bullets. When Dad died, he had a collection of guns and so, I just kept a hand gun. You never know when you’ll need one, right?

“No! Kristen, I know what you’re up to! Just stop it! I’ll call up some friends and borrow some money.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so sure. We have sooooo many rich friends that are willing to hand out money. What the Hell ever!”

I found the shoebox and took the gun out. It had been a long time since I held it in my hands. Could I really go through with it? Could I really pull it off?

“I’m doing it and you can’t stop me. You’ll thank me later!” I got up, found a pair of sunglasses, grabbed a heavy jacket, a ball cap, and left. Karen didn’t come after me.

I went out to my car, got in and drove away, squealing my tires.


I sat in the parking lot of this small store that was 45 minutes away from our place. It was still open and there looked like there was only one clerk working. I don’t want to shoot anyone. I just need to get money. I slipped the sunglasses on, pulled my hair up underneath the ball cap and shoved the gun in my right coat pocket.

“Well, Kristen, it’s either now or never.”


I slowly pulled the car into our driveway. A few lights were on in the house, the ones Karen normally had on since she was deathly afraid of the dark. She’d more than likely still be up. She always stayed up late reading or writing. It was her favorite time to be creative. That’s when she wrote her best poetry, stories and songs.

I opened the car door and slid out. I was expecting to see the front door open as I walked up our little sidewalk, but it didn’t. I quietly went inside.

“Karen?” I called out.


Karen was sitting alone in the dark, a very unusual thing for her to do. She turned on one of the lamps sitting on the end table near the couch. I saw right away she had been crying. Her eyes were swollen and red. She asked me with her eyes if I had gone through with it. I took off my jacket and hung it over the dining room chair and walked into the living room.

“Did you?” Karen asked.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly.

“No...I didn’t.” I whispered in her ear.

She started crying.

“I’m sorry, Karen.”

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you came to your senses.”

We stopped hugging and looked at each other. I felt so bad because I knew how bad Karen had taken this whole situation. It wasn’t her fault...her poor health did it to her...and every time something tragic would happen, she’d have an anxiety attack.

“No, I didn’t have one.” She said as she wiped the tears from her eyes. It didn’t surprise me that she said that. She could always read my mind.

“I love you, Karen.”

“I love you too, Kristen.”

Author notes

This is part two of the "sisters", Karen and Kristen. The song is "Heart of Gold".

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

~ Karen ~ StrangeLittleStories

I’ve always been jealous of my sister, Kristen. Kristen is a little younger than me and has always seemed to have all the luck in the world. That is until recently. We both decided to move in with each other. Our boyfriends didn’t want us anymore. I can understand why my man couldn’t put up with me. I’m a hard woman to please. I’m also very obsessive about certain things (such as putting the seat and lid down on the toilet). I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bitched to my male friends about that. Kristen moved in with me a little more than a month ago. Her boyfriend, Brian, was an abusive man and because of his temper, Kristen ended up in the hospital with a broken arm, two broken ribs and a broken nose. I basically didn’t give her any choice in the matter. I told her to press charges and move in with me. Our parents had long since gone, so it was just us.

Kristen came home from work one evening so angry and pissed off, I was afraid to say anything to her. She slammed the front door, began throwing things and screamed in a violent rage about some fucking asshole. I climbed out of bed, I had had a headache and tried to take a nap so it would go away. I went out into the living room where she was sitting on the couch breathing erratically and mumbling.

“What happened now?” I asked.

“That fucking jerk that I work with reported me for something I didn’t do. He claimed he saw me doing drugs in the break room. Now I’m out of a job!”

“You’re kidding me? What the hell?”

“That’s what I said. I told my boss if he didn’t believe me that I would go and take a drug test just to prove that I was telling the truth. You know what he said to that?”

“What?” I sat down beside her.

“He said there was no need for any drug testing. I’m not cut out to work for them anyway. He was going to let me go sooner, but needed a real reason to get rid of me!”

“Whoa, now wait a minute. He said that?”

Kristen nodded and took out her pack of cigarettes from her sweatshirt jacket.

“You know you can go to the labor board and report them.” I said.

“What’s the point?” She replied. “I haven’t worked there long enough to even collect unemployment.”

She was right about that, but I felt she should report them. But, after awhile, I figured, it would be her word against theirs and if the whole thing was over drugs, whether or not Kristen did any, they’d toss the case in the garbage without even checking into it.

“Well, now what are we gonna do?” I asked.

“How the fuck should I know. Rob a bank so we can have money?!”

“Sounds like an idea!” I said kidding around. I thought maybe if I could work my magic and get her to laugh, she’d cheer up and then we would talk about the whole bullshit later.

“Great! Let’s get my gun and fucking hold up some place. I have a ton of bills to pay!”

I looked at her questioningly. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No! I’ll go do it if you won’t go with me. Why should I play the good girl when everyone thinks I’m the bad girl?”

“Kristen, you’re not thinking clearly right now, you should take a bath with only a few candles glowing around the tub and then go to bed.”

“Oh, Karen, that’s not going to change my mind. If I don’t do it tonight, I’ll do it another night.”

I sighed. Why do I always have to deal with this shit? I’m always the one that people bitch at or bitch to or whatever. And then, people expect me to fix everything. Kristen butted her cigarette out and went off to her bedroom. Loud raging music started playing full blast. I got up off the couch and went into the kitchen to get a drink. I wasn’t fully awake and my mouth was all dry from mouth breathing.

“Mom, Dad, what am I going to do with her? Why’d you leave me with all this shit?”


I looked out Kristen’s bedroom window and watched her drive away. Oh God! What now? What should I do? Should I follow her? Should I just stay here? Maybe she won’t go through with it. Maybe she will. I ran down the stairs and hurried up and called my best friend, Silver. Of course...as usual...he wasn’t there.

I paced the living room floor and tried to think of what to do. Maybe she would chicken out and realize how wrong it was to steal. She should know that by now? We both got caught shoplifting when we were in our teens.

I sat down on the couch and began crying.

Author notes

This is part one of the sister stories. The second one is "Kristen". I named them after my sister and myself. I was inspired by an incident that my sister wanted to go through when she was in high school, but never followed through. I'm so grateful that she didn't go through with it. This story represents the song, "Heart of Gold".
copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

~ Kandi ~ StrangeLittleStories

If Mamma knew what I had become she would have disowned me.  But she’s no longer living and I never knew my father. And now I sell my body and shoot up before I go out on the town every night. My boss, Jake, originally found me on the streets of Manhattan as a 15 year old runaway and took me in as one of “his” girls. I needed money, I needed a place to stay, and I was withdrawaling from the lack of heroin. He cooked me up a shot, told me I was now his and I had to do whatever he wanted me to do, and that was that.

I’m now 21, still working for Jake. I’m his best prostitute, escort, call girl, and his special “girl” for his high class paying clients. My real name isn’t Kandi, but you don’t need to know my real name, now do you? When did I become this woman that I am? The fourth of July. I’ll always remember that. The air was hot and sticky and smelled like sulfur from the fireworks that the city set off. I was lying on a cardboard box in an alley watching the sparks in the sky when this handsome man came up to me and asked me if I needed a fix. I remember nodding my head. I wasn’t scared to die. I wasn’t scared to go to jail. I had already given blowjobs for drugs and money, so I thought; maybe that’s what he wanted. I got up on my knees and went to unfasten his belt. He smiled at me and allowed me to continue my game for a fix. Once I was finished, he helped me up and took me to a seedy looking place and cooked up a shot for me. I figured he was going to kill me. But I didn’t care.

“What’s your name?” He asked me.
“Does it matter?”
“No. I think you look like a Kandi. And you’re good at what you do. Come with me and you’ll never starve again.”
After he injected the heroin into my arm I thought about what he said. “What are you, some kind of pimp?”
“You could say that.”
“And if I say ‘no’, what will you do to me?”
“Nothing. Let you go back to that alley and starve and continue doing what you were doing.”
I closed my eyes. Starve and continue starving. “Fine, I’ll come with you.”
And that was that. We left the seedy joint and went to his fancy car.


“Kandi, you’ve got Mr. Small tonight.” I opened my eyes. Phoebe was standing in my doorway. She looked horrible. No wonder Jake gave her the trashy customers. I grabbed a light blonde wavy wig and adjusted it on top of my dirty blonde hair. When Phoebe didn’t leave, I turned towards her and smiled.
“Yes, Phoebe?”
“It’s just, you’re so beautiful. How’d you get to be Jake’s favorite?”
I patted the plush vanity seat and she came over to me and sat down beside me. I finished applying my make-up and let her watch. “I was 15 once too. Just starting out like you. You need to make yourself think this is an art. That you’re not just hooking for a living. That you’re an actress.”
“But I hate being here. I hate men.”
I turned to her and gathered her in my arms and whispered in her ear. “I hate men too. That’s why I think of this as acting. I’m only 21, Phoebe. When I have enough money, I’m outta here.”
“But, Kandi, Jake will never let you go!”

I didn’t tell Phoebe that I was planning on leaving that night after meeting with Mr. Small—a code name for a high paying client. I would make over $5,000 tonight. I had been saving all my money, except for the money that I had to give Jake for drugs and room and board. I now had $100,000 stashed away. I knew it wasn’t a lot of money, but it would help me get somewhere. Anywhere and I was ready to come off of the heroin. Secretly, I had been checking out Methadone Clinics around the outskirts of the city during the day and found one that would help me not only clean my act up, but help me find a place to live and a job. A real job.

“Just remember what I said, Phoebe and pretend to be an actress. I must go now or I’ll be late.” I gave her a hug and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight and be safe.”
Late that night, Phoebe never returned from her job. I waited up for her and so did Jake. We sat in the parlor, with some of the other girls and listened to the scanner, which was a routine when one of our girls didn’t return on schedule. That’s when we heard the announcement that a Jane Doe was found dead at the scene in an alley fitting the description of Phoebe. I turned and looked at Jake who was smoking a joint. Did he care? I know I certainly did.

“I’ll go and claim her.” I announced since no one uttered a word.
“You will do no such thing, Kandi.” Jake said.
“And why not? She was just a kid. Don’t you give a shit?” I replied.
“Because she was a prostitute and a runaway. The police will not care and if you go to claim the body, you’ll get arrested. You just can’t waltz right in to the morgue and claim a body, Kandi. You’re a prostitute. You’re MY prostitute and I will NOT have you taken in for some low life teen runaway.”
I stood up from the chair. “You heartless bastard!”
“Don’t get mouthy with me! That could have been you years ago, bitch!”
“Yes it could have been and that’s why I give a shit. I didn’t care back then, but I do care now.”
Jake stood up and came towards me. “Look Kandi, this stuff happens all the time. Perhaps her real family will claim her body. That’s why you can’t go down there.”

I turned away from him and headed for the staircase. I couldn’t handle this. Phoebe had come to me and asked me for advice and I had tried to tell her to be safe. To pretend to be an actress. What had gone wrong? I slowly walked up to my room knowing this was going to be my last night in this place. I would leave once everyone had gone to bed. Well, once Jake had finally cooked up his bedtime shot and drank himself into a stupor. It was already three in the morning. He would be getting ready to do his nightly ritual in about an hour or so.
Jake followed me, however. Did he know of my plans? My plans to leave this fucking place forever?

“I’m not done talking to you, Kandi.” He called out.
“I’m done talking to you, Jake. I’m upset and want to go to sleep.”
I felt Jake’s hand grab my shoulder and spin me around. He slapped me with the back of his hand. “Don’t ever walk away from me again, Kandi.”

Tears stung my eyes as I went directly to my room and shut the door. Jake didn’t follow me, thank God. Quickly, I changed out of my glittery gown and wig and went into the bathroom to take a long hot shower. I needed a fix because I was coming down. Just one last time, before I cleaned my act up. In the bathroom, I found my kit, cooked up, shot up and waited for the hit to help me deal with trauma. Once the heroin flowed through my veins, I turned around on the toilet and lifted the lid where I kept my money hidden in a plastic bag. It was still safe and sound. With a sigh of relief, I quickly grabbed it and went out into my bedroom to gather a few of my possessions. I got dressed in a pair of jeans and tank top. Once again, the fourth of July was haunting me. Today, the city would celebrate. Today, I would come clean and move to Philadelphia. I had already gotten my bus ticket to get the hell out of here. The bus left in six hours. In two hours, Jake would be wasted and I could leave.

Once my things were packed I waited. It was too risky to call a cab so I would go to a diner and get something to eat, then call a cab from there. The clock on my vanity table told me it was time, so I got my duffle bag and quietly walked out of the only home I knew for the past seven years.

The diner, two blocks away from the house, was practically empty except for a couple and a few kids that looked like they had just come in from a party. I sat at a booth and ordered some breakfast and coffee. After eating, I used the payphone to call a cab to take me to the bus station.

Say goodbye to New York City and hello to Philly, Kandi. I’m not calling myself Kandi these days. Kandi died when Phoebe died. I’m now going by my real name. What’s my real name? Does it matter? All that matters is I’m doing well these days. I have a lovely husband and a daughter who I named Phoebe, who was born on the fourth of July. Imagine that.

Author notes

This is the most recent story. I wrote it a couple of summer's ago. It represents the song, "Happiness Is A Warm Gun".

 copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

Sunday, February 26, 2012

~ Raven ~ StrangeLittleStories

When was the first time you actually fell in love and knew for sure in your heart that it was true love? I had just turned 28 years old when love first hit me like a ton of bricks. He was this wonderful, handsome musician that I had met at Club Pele during the summer. His band started playing regularly every other Friday, which I had made a special point to be there to see him. His voice was so soothing to the ear and he could actually hypnotize the room while singing his haunting lyrics. The band’s name was Broken Wings, which I later found out when Mark and I started seeing each other, was named after a bird he found in his yard when he was a kid that had broken wings. I cried when he told me the story about how he tried so hard to help the bird, but a week later, the bird gave up and died. Mark buried the poor thing in the rose garden his mother had planted in the yard next to their house.

Mark and I had so much in common and I thought for sure that he was “the one”. He was a few years younger than me, but neither one of us cared about the age difference. The first time we kissed, my whole body felt like it was going to burst into flames. We made love for the first time on his birthday, August 20 and moved in with each other two weeks later.

Life was great! Everything about life was great! I smiled all the time because of the happiness that I had found in him. We’d sit up late at night in the bath tub together drinking wine with fifty or so candles glowing all around us and just talked about anything and everything. He’d sit at the piano during the day composing songs...but the band hated them because his songs were suddenly full of love. They didn’t want to play love songs. That’s mushy stuff! They wanted to sing about how miserable life was. The band broke up because of this. Because of me. Mark swore up and down he didn’t care. He knew his new music was better than the songs he had written in the past.

I began having nightmares about the two of us breaking up. These dreams were so real...so vivid, that when I woke, my pillow was stained with tears and my mouth was parched from hysterical crying.

“Raven, my beautiful bird, I will never leave you,” Mark would say when I told him about the nightmares. I wanted to believe him, but my gut instinct told me otherwise.

He tried to continue his so-called music career at Club Pele and tried to get bookings at other clubs and lounges. His music was still haunting and hypnotizing, but the crowd wanted more than a man at a keyboard singing about the beautiful raven he had tried to save. Actually, the bird he did try to save back in the day, was a sparrow, but because of me, he changed that around.

One night, Mickey, the owner of Club Pele, told Mark he couldn’t book him anymore. The money wasn’t coming in and as a result, he had to cut back on the live musicians. Mark wasn’t too terribly upset when this happened, at least that’s what he wanted me to believe, but I knew how much it hurt him. He became depressed and stopped playing his piano. We stopped taking baths together nightly before bed, and after few weeks without love-making, I knew it was time to move on.

I packed up what little possessions that I had, wrote a letter telling Mark that I was sorry for ruining his music career, and drove out of the city. I had no idea where I was going. I just needed to be somewhere other than there. After driving for 24 hours without sleep, I pulled into a motel parking lot and paid for a room for a few nights. When I finally relaxed my body with a steaming hot shower, cigarettes, and several shots of vodka, I passed out from exhaustion.

Twenty hours later, I woke. My head throbbed, my neck was stiff from sleeping on it wrong and I felt like I was going to be sick. I barely made it in time to the bathroom. My first thought was, oh my God, I’m pregnant. I can’t have a kid! I can’t even take care of myself, let alone a child! I sat on the cold tiled floor, my head resting on my right arm which was being supported by the rim of the toilet. I sobbed for what seemed like hours. I kept thinking about what was I going to do if I did turn out to be pregnant. I thought about where would I live. I’m an orphan. I have no one out there. My roommate that I lived with before Mark came into my life, moved to Los Angeles to attend some kind of art school. I was jobless. I was homeless and what little credit I had left on my Visa wouldn’t even help me out for a full month, which meant I was penniless.

I got up off the floor and looked at myself in the mirror. Who was staring back at me? Whoever she was, she looked like death warmed over. I turned the faucet on and splashed cold water on my face. I had to come up with a plan. I had to find some way out of this mess.

That was three years ago. Yes, I was pregnant. No, I didn’t keep the baby. Unfortunately, I had gotten an abortion. How did I come up with the money for that? Mark, of course. I ran back to him like a lost puppy. He helped me out for a short time, until I got back on my feet and could support myself. Then that was it. No more Mark. No more love. I vowed never to fall in love again because of how much love had hurt me. I broke many hearts within these past few years, but at least my heart was still intact. I should be happy. Right?

I wonder what Mark’s up to these days?

Author notes

This girl was inspired by the song, "I'm Not In Love".

 copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

~ Paris ~ StrangeLittleStories

Paris sat at her vanity table in her dressing room staring into the light-up mirror. Sitting in front her were tubes of lipstick, cover-up, nail polish, and all kinds of moisturizing creams. Mr. Boswick had hired new fresh-looking young girls to star in a sexier show with erotic dancing, which meant, Paris had to retire. Yeah, it wasn’t fair, but after spending 35 years on stage in high heels, wearing barely-there-outfits and 40 to 50 pound headdresses, you begin to long for the day when you can go home, sit in a comfortable chair, prop up your tired and aching legs and feet and relax for longer than a just a few hours. Home? This was Paris’ home. Since the age of twenty, the stage and flamboyancy was all she really knew. Her daughter, Franka, was living in New York City, and it was about time Paris got a chance to go out east and visit her. Franka also was a slave to the stage, but not Vegas show style. Franka’s life revolved around dancing, singing, acting and On and Off-Broadway.

Out in the hallway, the younger girls ran past Paris’ closed door laughing. She thought she heard her name being mentioned. Tonight was the last show Paris performed. She felt, in her heart, that it was the best show she had ever performed during her many years as a Vegas Showgirl.

A quiet knock on the dressing room door woke Paris’ up from her day dreaming. She stood up, barefooted and walked over to the door.

“Yes?” She answered.

“Paris? It’s me, Thom, is it okay if I come in?” the voice said on the other side of the door.

Paris unlocked her door and opened it slowly. Standing in front of her was the only man she had ever fallen in love with. In his arms, he held a bouquet of two dozen long stem red roses. Paris smiled and stepped away from the entrance of the door so Thom could come inside. Once he was in, she closed the door and locked it. Through the years, Thom had changed from being a handsome young man to a balding overweight drunk.

“These are for you,” he said as he handed the bouquet to her.

“Thanks, Thom. They’re absolutely stunning!” She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. She could smell liquor on his breath. She sighed quietly and went back to her vanity to begin the long process of make-up removal.

Thom sat down across the room on a small settee and watched Paris apply cold cream to her face. He was at a loss for words.

“So, how’d you like the show?” Paris asked him.

“Oh, it was wonderful! You were spectacular, as always! I swear you get more and more beautiful with age and I get uglier and uglier. But let’s not talk about me...when are you leaving for New York?”

“A week from today. I wanted to spend a few days relaxing before heading east to see Franka. She’s got the lead in this new musical. I’m feeling a bit nervous for her, but she tells me not to worry.” She chuckled. “That’s my Franka for you.”

Thom smiled. He always wondered if Franka was his child, but he never bothered taking the responsibility as a father. Instead, he turned into a lousy drunk. As far as he knew, Paris never revealed who Franka’s father was.

Paris stood up went over to her closet full of glitter, silk, satin, and feathered outfits that she had worn throughout the years. This was going to be harder than she thought. She always thought when it was time to give up the whole showgirl thing, it would be easy. But now, looking at her costumes, wigs, headdresses and heels her eyes started tearing. Maybe it wasn’t the retiring part. Maybe it was because she would have to face up to the fact that she was 55 years old. With all her heavy stage make-up on, no one could tell that she was that old. Because of wigs, no one knew her brunette hair was mostly streaked with gray. She was scared. Scared because the only life she knew was being taken away from her. It was almost like being in prison for years and then thrown out onto the streets and told...there, go make it out there on your own now.

Suddenly, she felt Thom’s arms around her. That’s when the tears and hysterical crying began. She turned to face him and held onto him afraid of letting go. Letting go of the glamor and fame. Letting go of her love for Thom. Letting go...letting go...of the fantasy and discovering the reality.

“It’ll be okay, Paris. I’m here for you.”

She held onto him tighter. “Please, don’t leave me, Thom. I need you now more than ever.”

“I promise...I’ll never leave you again.”

Author notes

This is for the song, "Enjoy The Silence". One of the first stories that I wrote for the "StrangeLittleGirls" characters. It's always hard to retire. Especially if the job you're leaving behind is the only job you've known.

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

Friday, February 24, 2012

~ Jodie ~ StrangeLittleStories

I remember the story my mother told me on the night that she died from cancer about how I got my name. I sat at her bedside, holding her frail hand in mine and listened to her raspy voice. She wanted to name me Katherine, but my father was insistent on naming me Jodie after his baby sister that died from crib death. Her final words were, ‘I love you, my Katherine...’. I still sat there beside her even though she was no longer breathing. The nurses came in and began to shut off all of the monitors she had been hooked up to. I couldn’t cry. I was too numb to cry. After the nursing staff had cleaned her up and prepared her for the shroud, my father walked in. He had tried like hell to get to the hospital in time, but because his job was 45 minutes away, he didn’t make it. We were allowed to stay with my mother for awhile before they had to take her away. Father had cried like a baby. His beautiful Eve was gone. My beautiful mother was gone. I was gone as well. The night after her funeral, I ran away from home. I miss my mother very much. That was fifteen years ago. Now every time I glance in a mirror or window and see my reflection, it’s not my face that stares back at me, it’s my mother’s.

“Hey, Jodie, how ‘bout passing that pipe over here instead of wasting what little weed we have left.”

I looked down at the smoking purple glass pipe in my hand . Did I take a hit off of it? I was too stoned to remember if I did or not, so I just passed it over to Dex and sat back in the seat of the car and closed my eyes. We were sitting behind the old abandon barn where occasionally we’d live out of when we couldn’t find any other place to live. It wasn’t all that bad. Certainly not the Plaza Hotel, but it was protection from the weather.

Yesterday had been a horrible day. Dex and I had gone to the town near by to see if we could “get” some money and some weed, but things all turned to shit and we had to leave in a big hurry. The man we usually buy our stuff from was so doped up on heroine when we got there that we figured we could “borrow” some money and “borrow” a little baggie full of pot. We would have gotten away with it, if Ian (our dealer) had been alone. Unfortunately, we had no idea that his latest slut was also there shooting up in the bathroom.

“What da fuck do you guys think yer doin’?” She yelled when she stumbled out into the front room.

Dex ignored her and kept grabbing money out of the stash box on the coffee table. I just stood there with my hands in the pockets of my leather jacket. One hand holding the baggie of weed and the other holding the gun I stole from my father when I ran away from home. I had never shot anyone with the gun, but I carried it with me all the time. I felt so much safer with it than without it.

The slut came at us and tripped over a bunch of shit that was lying all over the floor. When she fell, she landed on top of Ian and he woke from his stupor. That’s when Dex grabbed the sleeve of my jacket and yanked me from where I was standing. I followed him out the door of the apartment. Most of the money that Dex had shoved into his pockets had fallen out during our fleeing and left a trail behind us of twenties and fifties down the apartment building stairs and out to the alley where we had our car parked. Ian ran after us, but because he was still fucked up, he fell down the stairs and landed with a thud on the bottom landing and didn’t move. Dex started the car and we drove away.

“I think it’s time to move on, what do you think?” Dex asked me as he passed the pipe back to me.

I shrugged my shoulders and put the pipe up to my lips and took in a long deep drag and held my breath as long as I could.

“It’s up to you, Dex.” I replied after exhaling. “I don’t care one way or another.”

“You know, Jodie,” Dex started “you can be so depressing sometimes.”

I turned my head and looked at him. I had grown accustomed to his pale face, blue eyes and dark hair. He was the only person in my life I gave a shit about.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said and leaned over and kissed his lips. “I was just thinking about Mom.”

He returned my kiss and held my face.

“I love you, my Katherine.”

Author notes

This is a short story based on Tori Amos' "Rattlesnakes" girl, inspired by Tori's cover album, StrangeLittleGirls. The song is about broken love and "a girl needs a gun these days on account of those rattlesnakes..."

 copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

~ Heather ~ StrangeLittleStories

I can’t remember being a child, going through puberty or even turning 21.  As far as I can remember, I’ve always been the same age, whatever age that is. After many confusing years, I finally came to an understanding that I wasn’t mortal. I’m not exactly sure what I am. Some would call me a ghost. Some would call me a lost soul. Some would call me a spirit or angel. I call myself a guide.

     Children can see me sometimes. Animals always sense my presence. Adults, especially the skeptic kind, ignore me or can’t see me. The only time I can be definitely seen by anyone is on All Hallows Eve, most like to refer that particular day of the year as Halloween. That’s also when I see others like me. And the other time anyone can see me is at their death.

     I have no idea if I was ever mortal. I have no memories of life whatsoever. The only time I can actually talk to a mortal is either at their death or when certain people try to contact the spirit world. I’m not even sure how I got my name. It’s just a name that came to me. There’s no middle name or last name. I wear the same clothes and my hair never grows any longer than it is.

     Tonight, I am sitting here next to a hospital bed of a dying child. This poor little girl has cancer and is afraid to die. Her parents are sitting here as well. I know she can see me because she keeps looking over at me.

It’s okay to let go, honey.

But I don’t want to leave my mommy and daddy and baby brother
I know you don’t, Angel.

How did you know my name?

I’m not sure, I just know it.

Why are you here? Who are you?

My name is Heather and I’m here to guide you.

Where will I be going?

Angel, wherever you are about to go to will be lovely. You’ll have many friends to play with and you won’t be in any pain. You’ll have your beautiful hair back and won’t look sickly
Is that where you live?

No, Angel. I exist in this world so I can help you and others get by the fear of leaving.

Have you ever been to the place I’m going to go to? Is God real?

Someday I will get to go where you’re going. But not until I’m ready. I also don’t know if God is real. I’ve never seen him. I’ve never seen Jesus. I walk alone.


I’m not sure why.

     Angel’s mother gets up from the chair she is sitting in and stretches. She tells Angel’s father that she is going to go get something to drink. He tells her okay. She leans over and gives Angel a kiss. Angel can’t kiss her back. She’s unresponsive.

Why can’t I talk to my mommy and daddy? Why can’t I move?

Because, Angel, you’re dying. To them, you look like you’re sleeping. To me, I see a beautiful little girl with long brown hair.

How come you see me like that?

Because my dear, you’re spirit is leaving your mortal body.

Oh. When will it be time to go?


I don’t hurt anymore.

I know you don’t. When it’s time, take my hand and I will take you to the place that I told you about.

Will I ever see you again?

I wish I knew. I’m here for a reason. I’ve been helping those like you for a long time. Perhaps someday I will be able to join you and all the others that I’ve helped.

I want you to come with me.

You do? Why is that?

Because you’re my friend. I want to be with you.

      I think about what Angel said. Maybe I can go along with her. Maybe she is the last.

     Angel’s mother comes back into the hospital room. She sits back down in the chair she had been sitting in before. Suddenly, she looks scared. She asks her husband if he can see a white light in the corner of the room. He looks right in my direction, begins crying, and nods his head.

It’s time, Angel.

     Angel’s monitors start beeping, alerting the nurses at the nurses station. Her mother stares up at the heart monitor and starts crying.

Take my hand, Angel.

“I love you, baby!” cries Angel’s mother as she grabs her daughter’s small hand.

      Her father stands up and approaches the bed and kisses his daughter on the cheek. He looks right into my eyes and smiles.

“Please take good care of our little Angel, whoever you are.”

     For the first time, I cry. This is it. I am not only Angel’s guide, but she is my guide. We will cross that path and go to the beautiful place.

     “I will.” I say to them. They hear me. They see me. They know their daughter is in good hands. I know I’m in good hands.

Come on Angel, let’s go to that beautiful place together.

Author notes

This short story is inspired by Tori Amos' "Time" character.

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

~ Tressa ~ StrangeLittleStories

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear old hag, happy birthday to me! Let’s see now, that makes me what? 34 years old. What was my mother thinking when she found out she was pregnant with me and didn’t bother to abort me? I mean, really, here I am, 33, oops, sorry, 34, never been married, hardly ever been any man’s girlfriend, living in a one bedroom apartment with one male orange tabby cat. I feel so....what’s the word....oh, yeah, privileged.

I plopped down onto my sofa and turned on the television. Today, of all days, just HAD to be Valentine’s Day. The TV was showing back to back love stories all day and night long. All happy ending movies. All fucking fake ass movies. I turned the TV off and grabbed my pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. Shit! Only four cigarettes left! I gotta quit smoking! Or yet, maybe I should smoke more, that way, I’ll get lung cancer and die and I won’t have to worry about ever having a long lasting relationship, because what man would want a woman with no hair, coughing and hacking up phlegm all the time?

Sitting across the room from me was my beloved cat, Willy. He was sitting on the window seal looking out at the city. Why couldn’t I be a cat? I’d be better off. Also, sitting across the room from me was a unopened bottle of Chardonnay. Dare I indulge myself and drink the whole bottle? Hell, why not! I’ll get drunk, pass out, and then hang my head over the toilet two hours later.

Just then the phone rang. It was Mother. She sang happily into the phone Happy Birthday before I even said hello.

“Oh, thanks, Mom!” I said sarcastically.

“And how are you today, sweetheart?”

Should I tell her the truth? “Oh, I’m just great! I’m waiting for my non-existent boyfriend to come over and take me out to dinner.”

“Now, Tressa, that’s not funny. Maybe if you weren’t so sarcastic all the time, you’d find yourself a nice young man.”

“Yeah, maybe. But I’m not.”

She sighed. “Why do you always have to be like that?”

“Mother, I don’t want to get into it. I’m going to drink myself into a stupor, watch Harold and Maude and eat junk food.”

“I just don’t understand you. You’re a bright, beautiful young woman. You shouldn’t be sitting home all alone on your birthday. Oh yeah, I almost forgot, Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Can it Mother! I’m not in the mood. Plus, I’m not all by myself, I’ve got Willy to keep me company. At least I know he loves me.”

That was the end of our conversation. I got up off the couch and went into the kitchen to find the bottle opener. Willy jumped down off the window seal and began walking around my legs rubbing his little head up against my calves. I bent down and picked him up.

“So, Mr. Willy Shakespeare, are you going to write me a sonnet for my birthday and a sonnet for Valentine’s Day?”

He looked up at me and meowed. What a sweetie. I scratched the top of his orange little head and then kissed him. He began purring and kissed my chin.

“I’m such a lucky woman to have such a loving man in my life.”

I put him down back on the floor and went over to the cupboards to find my bottle opener. Once I found it, I opened the bottle and poured myself a glass and gulped it down. Ahhh, how refreshing! What a way to celebrate both my birthday and the day for lovers.

The phone rang again. Mother, don’t you understand when I want to be left alone, for God’s sake!?


“Happy Birthday, Tress!” Yelled my best friend, David.

“Thanks, David!”

“Got any plans this evening?”

“No, not really. I was planning on getting drunk by myself and watch silly ass love stories, why?”

“Well, Kelly and I thought we would take you out to dinner for your birthday. Feel up to it?”

“Sure, why the hell not? What time?”

“We’ll come and pick you up around seven.”

“Okay. I shall be ready and waiting.”

“See ya then, birthday girl!”

I hung up the phone and went back to the sofa with my bottle of wine and empty glass. So much for getting drunk alone. At least I can get drunk with my friends. With that, I poured myself another glass of wine.

At seven, Kelly, David and I took off for our favorite restaurant. The place was packed with young and old couples in love. I smirked and pouted as we went inside and the host showed us to our usual table.

“Order whatever you want, Tress. It’s on us!” Kelly said.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted other than a bottle of vodka. David suggested the eggplant parmesan, knowing it was one of my favorite dishes. Once we placed our orders and got our drinks, I began to relax a little and started to enjoy myself. Both Kelly and David were also single, so we sat there and made fun of all the lovebirds sitting around us. One particular couple looked like they weren’t even old enough to drink. Or rather, she didn’t look old enough to drink, let alone drive legally. The guy she was with had to be in his mid to late twenties. They sat there, playing footsies and giggling about something we couldn’t hear.

Kelly all of a sudden decided to imitate them. David played the role of the guy and was reciting poetry to her as he stared deeply into her eyes. I couldn’t help but laugh at the two of them. That’s when I decided that we should pretend to be a threesome and I started flirting with both Kelly and David. Some of the customers stared at us like we were a bunch of freaks.

“Oh my darling sex kittens,” David said. “I can’t wait until we get back to our place and play naked Twister.”

I had a mouth full of wine and nearly choked on it while laughing hysterically. Once again, we got evil looks from all the customers sitting near our table.

Several hours later, three bottles of wine later, we went back to my apartment to continue my little birthday party. I guess life isn’t all that bad when you have close friends who share the same feelings as you do. So much for a shitty birthday. I had a wonderful time, even though I did end up in the bathroom with my head hanging over the toilet.

Isn’t life grand?

Author notes

This is my version of a thirty-something way of looking at life. You know you're still considered young, but at the same time, you know your forties are creeping up on you. This is for the song, "New Age". The first song off of "StrangeLittleGirls".

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

Thursday, February 23, 2012

~ January ~ StrangeLittleStories

I changed my name as soon I was legally able to. After all the years of the horrible guilt that my asshole father put me through, I decided that “Kayla” was dead. I chose the name January, because that was the month my mother’s birthday was in.

I ran away from home one night while the local carnival was in town. I was only 16 at the time. I never finished high school, I didn’t get my GED, and basically, I never amounted to anything. I guess you could call me a gypsy. I hitchhike from state to state, and I never ever go to my home state, North Dakota. That’s where mom is. I may one day, go back and visit the lake. But I’m not ready for that yet.

So where am I now? Hell if I know. All I know, is there is a man lying next to me in bed and I’m at some kind of cheap motel. I met him a few days ago while I was out along the highway lookin’ for a ride. He picked me up and I figured, since he seemed pretty interesting enough, I’d stick around for awhile. I do get lonely. So why not take advantage of what’s given to you.

I crawled out of bed and went into the bathroom and decided to take a shower. It’s not too often I get that simple pleasure. I know Mom wouldn’t be happy with the way I am now. Or rather, the way I’ve been all my life. You can blame that on the man that killed her and brought me along for the ride. Sometimes I wake up at night from a dream about that night. That night that I can’t forget no matter how hard I try. Nothing works. Drugs don’t make the pain go away. Neither does sleeping around with strangers or running from town to town. I know I should do something with myself. I just don’t have the ambition to live a normal life. Look what a normal life did to my mother.

I got up off the toilet, flushed and began stripping out of my wife-beater shirt and panties. I looked in the mirror at myself. All the body piercings and tattoos couldn’t hide who I saw. I saw my mother. Her face, her eyes, even her nose. I didn’t have any features from my father, thankfully. My body was covered with bruises. I bet that’s what her body looked like. My black eyeliner and mascara were smeared from sweat and sleep and my short black hair was tangled and messy. I turned away from the mirror and turned on the hot water in the tub. I never use cold water. What’s the point...you don’t get clean enough unless you scald yourself. I hopped into the bathtub. closed the smelly mildew shower curtain, and turned the nozzle to run the shower.

I stood there and tried so hard not to think about my life. Maybe if I just pretended to be someone else, I could make it. I should go to California and see if I could get into acting.

The water felt good running down my face and body. I picked up the washcloth and complimentary soap and began scrubbing my face, then shampooed my hair and hopped out. I wondered what today was going to bring. What would be the next place I’d stay at. I thought about maybe ditching the guy who picked me up and just go. Of course, I’d help myself to any money he had. Can’t get very far without that stuff. Money, the root of all evil! Everything in the world, like water and food and housing should be free. Oh well, guess that won’t ever happen.

I threw my shirt and panties back on and quietly went out into the bedroom area. He was still sleeping. Should I? Should I stay or should I go? God, I’m so confused. I should just stay. Take advantage of the free meals and shelter. This guy isn’t all that bad. Actually, he’s pretty cute and just a little older than me. Mom? What would you do? Where would you go? I wish you were here. I wish I could talk to you. I wish for too much. I’m too selfish.

I crawled back into the bed and snuggled up against his warm body. Damon...that’s what he told me his name was. January and Damon. Has a nice ring to it.

He stirred and turned and looked over at me. “Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” I said back.

“You smell good,” he told me.

“I needed to wash the stench off of me. I just finished taking a shower.”

He wrapped his arm around me and held me closer. It made my heart ache.

“I like you a lot, January. I want you to stay, please. There’s just something in your eyes that tells me you need to feel love. I may not be rich. But I can be there for you.”

Yeah, I like you too, I thought, but the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth. Instead, something different happened. Something that I hadn’t been able to do for years. I cried.

“Shhhh...” Damon said.

I wrapped both my arms around him and sobbed. I’m so tired of moving. Maybe it’s time to stay put. No, not maybe...yes.

“Don’t worry,” I cried. “I’m done traveling. I’m staying right here. Here with you.”

Author notes

This is part two of Roberta's story continued by her daughter, January. The song used for this story was, "Strange Little Girl"

This was written when Tori did her covers album, StrangeLittleGirls.  Now being published here on my blog.

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

~ Roberta ~ StrangeLittleStories

She placed the bag of groceries down on the small fallen apart porch so she could get out the keys to the trailer and let herself in. His car was in the driveway, but there were no lights on inside. Guess he went out drinking again with those assholes he calls friends, she thought. Once the door was unlocked and she found the living room light switch, turned it on, picked up the bag of groceries and stepped inside. The place looked like a dump. She had spent all day cleaning it yesterday, then went to work all day today, and now to come home after being on her feet for 14 hours and finding the place trashed infuriated her. She slammed the door and walked over the crap lying all over the floor and went into the kitchen. No one should live like this, she thought to herself.

“Guess that’s what you get when you get knocked up in high school, marry at a young age, and move away from home to try and make a better life for yourself. Guess I fucked that up!”

She put the bag down on the kitchen table and went down the hallway to the bedroom so she could change out of her waitress uniform. She reeked like grease and onions, her bleached blond hair was pulled up in a bun under a hairnet and cap, and her uniform itself needed washed because she spilled ketchup on it while trying to refill the bottles for each of the tables. The babysitter would be here soon to drop off Kayla, so she didn’t have enough time to take a bath. Instead, she hurried up, slipped on a pair of jeans and a ratty old tee shirt and undid her hair. She had to hurry and get dinner started and clean up before the asshole got home from where ever the hell he was.

Quickly she picked up all the ashtrays that were overflowing with cigarette butts and emptied them into the garbage. Then she collected all the empty bottles and cans of beer lying all over the coffee table and end tables. Some of them had chewing tobacco spit and cigarette butts inside them. Those ones she just tossed in the garbage without emptying them first.

A knock came at the door. It was the babysitter bringing little Kayla back. Kayla’s 3rd birthday was coming up in a few weeks. Roberta had made arrangements with her boss to have a little birthday party for her at the diner. She couldn’t wait! God, she loved her daughter so much. Kayla was the best thing that came out of her marriage to Mike. Marriage? What a fucking joke!

She hurried up and washed her hands and called out to hold on she was on her way. When she opened the door up, there was Kayla, big smiles reaching out for her mother and the babysitter standing there smoking a cigarette.

“Mommie!” Kayla cried. “I missed you!”

“Well I missed you too pumpkin. Did you have fun at Lisa’s today?”

“Yeah! She took me to the playground and I got to ride the swings and slide down the slide.”

Roberta smiled. “How much do I owe you, Lisa...I forgot to pay you yesterday, so...”

“Don’t worry about it, Bertie.” Lisa interrupted. “I’m not in any great need for cash right now. You can pay me at the end of the week.”

“Okay, well thanks for understanding.”

Kayla ran past her mother and down the hallway to her bedroom.

“Oh, before I forget to tell you, Bert, Kayla said something to me about Mike hurting you? I know it’s none of my business, but I worry about you.”

Roberta wanted to change the subject right away. She never knew Kayla saw what went on when they fought.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, Lisa, I’m a big girl. He’s just a jerk whenever he’s drunk and we’ve had some really bad fights, but you know...couples always fight. It’s not that big of a deal.”

Lisa decided to leave it at that. She knew Roberta was lying, so she figured not to get into it. “Well anyway, same time tomorrow?”

“No, I’m off tomorrow, so I’ll be home all day. You could come over though and we could have lunch and hang out.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll call ya once I’m up and about.”

“Okay, dear, thanks again for watching Kayla.”

“You know I love babysitting her, Bertie. But anyway, have a good night and I’ll see ya sometime tomorrow.”

With that, Lisa walked down the porch steps and walked up the driveway to her car. Roberta closed the door and leaned up against it. She had to get out of there. She had to call someone about getting a divorce. This was just too much.

Roberta quickly finished cleaning up the place and began dinner. Two hours later, that’s when Mike showed up. He came stumbling into the trailer, fell flat on his face and laughed at himself. When he saw Roberta standing in the kitchen looking at him he yelled at her.

“What’s your problem, bitch?”

“Nothing, Mike. You’re dinner’s ready.”

Mike attempted to get up off the floor and staggered into the kitchen. He plopped down at his usual seat and stared at the food in disgust.

“What the hell are you feeding me, bitch? Pig slop? This ain’t no meal set for a king.”

She stood there, saying nothing and allowed him to complain about the beef stew dinner that sat on the plate in front of him.

“Get me a beer, bitch.” He demanded.

Roberta walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. There wasn’t any beer left. Oh, God, this is going to be bad, she thought to herself. She knew she forgot something when she went to the store.

“We’re out.” She quietly said.

He slammed his fists down on the table and made Roberta jump. “I swear you do this shit on purpose! I am so sick and tired of you not doing what I ask. I don’t ask for much, do I?”

She couldn’t speak. She knew she was in for a beating. Possibly rape. “No, sir, you don’t ask for much.”

“WHAT??? I didn’t hear you!”

She was now trembling. “I said no, sir, you don’t ask for much.”

“Damn right I don’t! Now get over here and quit standing there like some dumb bitch.”

Oh God, please, don’t let him hurt me. Please. I can’t take anymore of this. She prayed in her mind. She slowly walked over to the table and waited for the first punch. Instead, he grabbed her by her hair and slammed her face down into the plate of food.

“There! You feed me pig slop, I’ll make you eat it like a fucking pig!”

She started crying and tried to push her face away from the plate of food. He suddenly pulled her backed up with her hair and then slammed her head down again into the plate of food.

“You whore! I know you’re cheating on me. The boys told me so.”

“What? No, I never...”

“Don’t you lie to me bitch, I know. I can smell it. I can smell another man.”

He unbuckled his belt and slipped it off. Roberta took in a deep breath and waited for the first whip from the black leather belt, which he used so many times on her.. He started whipping her over and over and over again on her back. She tried so hard not to scream out in pain because all that did was provoked him and he would beat her longer and harder.

When he was done using his belt, he threw it down onto the floor, grabbed her by the hair and then threw her across the kitchen and into the living room. She fell up against the corner of the coffee table and let out a yelp from the pain.

“Well, you’ll never fuck me over again! You’ll never see daylight again! Say goodbye...because, you’re dead woman!”

Roberta closed her eyes and pictured her smiling daughter’s face. This was it, she knew she should have left him years ago when he started the beating and raping. Now, it was too late. Now she would never see her daughter grow up. Now she would never see her daughter become someone special, like a doctor or famous singer.

That’s when everything went dark.

“There! Now you’ll never bother me again!”

Author notes

This story was inspired by Tori's cover of Eminem's song, "'97 Bonnie and Clyde" There is a second story about her daughter and how she turned out after the murder of her mother. Her story and name is "January".  This was written when Tori did her covers album, StrangeLittleGirls.  Now being published here on my blog.

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Remembering Mino and Luna

I just wanted to take the time to remember my grandmother, Mino, who was buried on February 22, 1996 and LunaBelle who joined Mino on the same day in 2002.

I love you, Mino and I will see you when it's my time.  Keep care of the kitties for me while you're in Summerland/Heaven.  Especially, my kitten LunaBelle.  She was very special to all of us.  Tell Puss and Ariel I said, "Hi, baby girls!  I love and miss you both!"


I think of you and
how you betrayed me.
You seem to think
It's not big deal to
Toss a friendship aside.
Or toss my lover
on your bedroom floor.
All the while my sister
Tries to sleep and can
Hear the whole thing,
No, not thing, the whole
Act of sin happen.
You disgust me,
You Sociopath!
With you it was,
"What can I get out of this chick
By hanging out with her?"
This obviously sick in the head
And body girl.
You broke her heart
You sick fuck!
Used her for her kindness, the
Things she could provide to you with.
Transportation, money, medication, food, shelter,
Shown her things that she should
have never have seen.
Thank you for leaving me.
With friends like you,
Who needs enemies?

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

Tea With Laika

Do you ever have those
Moments when you stare
Off into space and just
Think about random thoughts?

Today in Wonderland,
Laika spoke the Queen's English
and invited me to tea.

We chatted about the weather,
the latest in Goth fashion,
what new make-up was in style,
and what the song of the day was.
For me it was, "Fight Like a Girl" by Emilie Autumn.
Laika's song was "In a World of My Own" by Disney's
Alice in Wonderland soundtrack.
We talked about her kids.
Had a moment of silence for Luna.
Complemented Star on her looks.
It was a pleasant afternoon
Having tea with Laika.

Now I drink tea alone.
Everyone has gone to bed.
I'm the only one in the house awake.
The clock strikes Midnight.
Time to take my medication
So I can go to sleep.
And have another adventure
while I dream.

copyright © Karen Elizabeth Waters 2012

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Crazy Cat Lady!!!

I guess I should introduce my children.  You know how people go on about their kids and how they're growing up, I wonder, if because I couldn't be a mother is the reason why I had to surround myself with felines.  Eight, soon to be nine.  I'm getting my sister's one cat, Maple until she's established in Arizona and has the City of Light built.  I'm not sure I understand her, so I won't get into everything she's into.  But know my sister is a very wise soul filled with light and love.

Anyway, Maple will be living here for a little while.  Right now there's just my kitties. Loki (Loo Loo), Fabian (Faby Baby or Mr. Boney Butt),  They're my little old men.  They turn 15 this year.  Loo turns 15 first on the 17th of March.  He's my Irish Kitty.  Named for the mischievous trickster , Loki.  He always gets in trouble.  He loves cheese, especially Kraft White American Cheese Slices.  That's his all time favorite!  Fabian is my stray cat from Clifton Springs, NY.  He came to live with me on Black Friday in 1998.  So he just had his birthday.  Surprisingly they are healthy cats and well taken care of.  So they're not gimped up or anything like that.  Well, Loo has a gimp ear.  I will never know how he got that blister on his ear.

Tristan a.k.a. Beepers.  Or just Beep.  Beep doesn't meow.  When he meows, if ever, he beeps instead of a meow sound.  He's my favorite redhead.  My only redhead.  Unless you count me then there's just the two of us.  He's the only man I'll ever love.  Yeah, he's very special to me.  He came to me from a farm right outside of Curwensville.  He'll be 12 this year.  Mom's favorite redhead is growing up so fast.

Ahhh...yes, then there's Laika.  Named after a band I was really getting into back then.  There's a story about her.  When my sister and her boyfriend at the time lived down by J.G. Food warehouse, we were going out to the cars and Kristen took notice of a small female cat.  The cat came up to her, if I remember this correctly, I could be sooooo wrong.  My medication has erased a lot of memories.  I have short term memory loss from the pill, Topamax.  We, mad men and women nick named that pill, Dopamax.  Because you acted like a dope.

Sorry about that...got thrown off track.  So this little kitty comes over to us and won't leave me alone.  It followed me across the street and kept meowing and making this clucking noise, which later found out this is the way she talks to you.  You would have to hear her to know what I mean.  She can get real bossy and whiny.  And she's a bad girl.  So I got in the car, the window was down and she jumped into the back seat with me through the window and I said to her, "Hi Laika!"  I knew from the get-go that she was going to be named, Laika.  She came to me in a very good time in my life.  And she brought three kittens several months later.

Luna Belle.  May she be dancing with Mino and playing with all the other cats from my past.  She died the day of Mino's anniversary burial date.   Feb. 22, 2002 at seven months old of distemper.  I will never forget that day for as long as I live.  Not only was it the day my grandmother was put into the ground, it was the most horrifying experience to have happen to me.  To lose a pet in 24 hours and it's still a kitten.  That vet was the most horrible fucking woman on the planet!  She held my baby, Luna, with such disdain I wanted to punch her lights out.  Instead I let her take my Luna and give her pain medicine and keep watch over her overnight.  I bet she went home instead of staying.  Bitch!  I told Dr. Cosner about what happened.  And stopped going to Herrings.  I called, no my sister had to call because I was in shock and bawling my eyes hysterically.  This was before I ever had a anxiety attack.  Thank God because I wouldn't have been able to deal with that.  I hardly was dealing with it when it was happening then.  Both Vets were unavailable and the 24 hour animal hospital was closed for whatever reason.  I had to drive in Amish country with my poor cousin who held that kitten and loved her while she got closer and closer to death.  And because it was in Amish country, the Vet there was none too thrilled about being gotten up at three in the morning for a girl and her dying kitten.  She didn't care that I saw Luna come into the world.  That she was Laika's second kitten.  The middle child.  Tristan's favorite out of the three kittens.  The other two are Dexter and Stardust.

Stardust a.k.a. Star or Twink is my Princess.  She was the first born out of the kittens.  She's very shy and skittish.  She's my little girl.  I love her very much.  She sleeps with me every night.  I sleep crisscross across my bed.    She sleeps in the corner of the bed where no one is bothering her.  Sometimes she sleeps on me, but that hasn't been lately.  She's gotten to be a little pudgy.  It's cute.  My little girl is cute.  She has very expressive eyes.  That whole kitty family have very expressive eyes.  Then of course there's...DEMON CAT...DEMON CAT...DEMON CAT!!!!  *growls and chants while head banging*  That's Chandra's song for Laika.  *laughs*  Sorry about that.

Then there's Dexter.  Known to all who know him as Dexter "Look!"  because he's always bug eyed and DEMON CAT eyed and he looks and he looks and he looks again.  Dexter Look likes to tell me when to go to bed.  It could be eight o' clock at night and he'll start telling me to go to bed.  Or follow me into the bathroom and ask for attention while I'm doing my human moments.  He's also known as Big Baby.

Which brings me to the one and only Spooky Salem.  Spooky for short and for even shorter, Poo Poo Kitty.  He is my one true and only feline soul mate.  He is my baby.  He's a mamma's boy through and through.  He only comes around when he wants attention and that's never if your name is Chandra or Justin.  He wigged the hell out tonight when he thought it was cool to flop in my arms and be all cute and Justin walked in and scared the absolute HELL out of him.  He's a bigger baby when it comes to people.  He loves me unconditionally and I love him unconditionally.  We were meant to be together.

And finally, there's my beautiful, Sasha.  She's my tortoiseshell kitty.  Very sleek and friendly as can be.  She'll knead you on your first date.  *Laughs*  I wish I would have gotten her fixed.  I think she's too old now.  She came here in 2005.  Now I have to put up monthly with her howling and yowling that she need's to get laid.  I know, I'm a horrible mother.  I'm not letting her go outside and getting pregnant.  As a matter of fact, she doesn't want anything to do with the outside world.  I just wish she wasn't so loud and annoying.  Beside dealing with Sasha being all about the "single ladies" thing.  That girl has to realize by now she's not getting any.

And there are my eight children.  I didn't count Luna.  I got sidetracked remembering that horrible incident with the Vet and Luna.  But yeah, that's all of them.  Now the world knows me officially as the crazy cat lady!  These are old pictures.  From over a year ago perhaps even two years.  First cat is Stardust, the next cat is Fabian.  Next is Beepers.  Then my baby, Spooky.  Then Laika looking all DEMON CAT...DEMON CAT...DEMON CAT!!!  The Loo.  Sasha and finally, Dexter Look!

Friday, February 17, 2012

Down the rabbit hole...

Good day to you all and welcome to my blog.  I'm asking you all to join me on this journey that I call life.  There will be times when I write poetry and there will be times when I just blog for the hell of it.  Either way, it's a way for you to get to know me a little better.  So where shall I begin?  At the beginning, of course.  And when I come to the end, I'll stop.  *smiles*

I was born here in Clearfield on July 22, 1972.  Yeah, I'm old, but you only are as old as you act and I still act like a youngster.  I took this quiz on Facebook to determine my age and it told me I was 17.  Good Lordy day!  I would NOT go back to that age if you paid me a million dollars.  I was a senior in high school when I was 17 and I absolutely hated school with a passion.  The only thing I lived for was my English class and all my music lessons.  Yes, I'm a band fag, as those would call me.  Seems so improper to say that now now that everyone who is gay and has come out of the closet gets offended when you say such things.  But that's besides the point.  I LOVED my music classes.  Band, Orchestra, Chorus, Jazz Band, you name it, I was in it.  Seems to me though no one cared that I was musically inclined in my grade.  I certainly wasn't picked for most musical even though I went to all the Districts and made it almost to All-State in Choir.  Do I hold a grudge for that?  I did when I was that age, but not anymore.  It was people like AW and BS and BG and BO that picked on me for being different.  And if you can't guess who I'm talking about, tough.  They were assholes to me and they probably would STILL treat me like shit if they were in contact with me these days.  Only one of those people is in contact with me and I think he's realized that all the shit he pulled on me throughout my entire school life was just that.  Shit!

I was a troubled girl.  I had starting cutting myself when I was thirteen.  Stopped, then started cutting again when I was 15.  When I hit my 20's, I continued to cut my arms up because I hated my life.  By then I had been raped and abused by my first live-in boyfriend.  He wouldn't let me see my friends except one and had her do sexual things to him because I flat out wouldn't.  It was only one time, that I know of, but it pissed me off.  No, I wasn't mad at her, I was mad at him for even suggesting the idea.  I wasn't even allowed to see my family.  My sister, who I think was seven at the time, asked to stay at our place and she got scared because she saw something supernatural.  That was the last time she stayed with us.

When we moved into town, I would sneak my friends over and we would watch The Little Mermaid and love my kitties that I had back then.  My boyfriend was a jealous boyfriend and didn't like me to talk to anyone except that one friend who did him a sexual favor.  He hooked her up with his best friend and I really don't remember much about what happened between the two.  All I know is I was with this boy from May of 1990 to October of 1990 and I broke up with him because his was so abusive and mean to me.

So where did I go then?  Back home to where I didn't want to go.  Then something horrible happened.  I got a kidney stone.  It was the worst pain I had ever felt and I couldn't eat or drink because the pain was so severe, I threw up.  A year later another stone and the bad news.  I was diagnosed with Polycystic Kidney Disease.  Soon, I was passing stones all the time, missing work all the time and it was unreal.  I was put on Percocets for the pain.  I turned into a bigger bitch because of the meds and I started gaining weight.  Five years later, I would meet another mad man.

He was wonderful at first.  Said right off the bat that he only wanted to have a friendly fuck, but my obsession with falling in love happened and he started treating me like shit.  Then right before Christmas, he called the whole thing off and told me he was dating someone.  That he was seeing her the whole time he was fucking me.  I was so depressed that I cut my arms.  I hid the damages with long sleeves and no one knew except my sister.  She cried to me about it.  And of course, I didn't listen to her.  All I knew was that cutting myself made me feel pure again.  That if I took my anger out on myself, that anger would be washed away with the blood that dripped from my wrists.

That's when I met the tattoo artist who scarred my back with a horrible tattoo of The Little Mermaid.  We got a place together and in two months, he cheated on me, sold my nintendo games and Egyptian ouija board.  And gave the girl he cheated on me with my crystal ball ring.  I threw his ass out on the street!  I didn't care if he was homeless and didn't have his insulin.  He never took his insulin like he should have anyway.  If it weren't for me, he wouldn't have had insulin during the two months that we lived together.  Fucking asshole.  He even put the moves on my sister and she was 13 years old!  Sick fucker!

That's when, Mino, my beloved grandmother, got sick and was put in a nursing home, the one Mom and I worked at.  It was only to be temporary.  Until her insulin and blood sugar was regulated.  Then I was to move in with her and take care of her.  I moved out of my apartment and up to Mino's in the attic that was my mom and aunt's bedroom.

Mino came home from the nursing home and I tried to take care of her and work the night shift.  It was impossible.  I talked to her doctor, who is also my doctor, and she put Mino on Hospice care.  I honestly didn't think Mino was dying to be put on Hospice care, but it was the only way to get help from other care takers and nurses.  That was in October, 1995.  In November, my little sister, moved in with me and also helped me take care of Mino.  We tried our best with the help from Hospice.  And in February 1996, she passed on while my sister was taking care of her and I was coming home from working all night.  It was so traumatic for the both of us that Kristen wigged out and had to be calmed down by her boyfriend and my boyfriend, who later became my husband.  It happened on a Sunday morning.  And I remember Mom and I coming home and seeing a snowbow in the sky.  I said that, "It must be a sign."  And it sure was, I came home to find Kristen and the guys sitting in the kitchen crying.  I knew right then and there, Mino had died.

We were thrown out of Mino's house because Mino never changed the will to have me inherit the house.  So my boyfriend and I got a little place and he got a job and I continued my job.  Still I was so upset about Mino that I went into therapy.  I wasn't put on any medication until after I got married, moved to Clifton Springs, NY and then moved back home because my husband asked for a divorce on Valentine's Day.  This was in 1999.  In 2000, we finally got divorced and I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I with severe depression, Borderline Personality Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Anxiety Disorder.  Soon the regimen of meds began.  I was put on this pill and that pill for my mood swings.  Then I'd have side effects that wouldn't go away.  The list of medication is so long I can't remember all the pills I've tried.  I'm now on Geodon for my moods, Celexa, for my depression, Klonopin for my anxiety and then the rest of all my meds are for my kidney disease and diabetes.  Which is a ton!

During these past 11 years, I've cut myself to the point of stitches.  That was scary.  I had used a pair of brand new scissors and cut myself three times on my left arm.  They bled so much that I had to call my sister, who in turn, called Mom.  Mom, of course, was not happy with me and said things that weren't nice.  "Next time you do something like this, make sure you do it right and don't call for help!"  Kristen was right there and told her that wasn't nice to say.  I was used to it.  Every time I did something wrong in my life, Mom always had to make some snide remark.  Which always hurt me.  Like the time I was in high school and she told me that the only thing a boy or man would want from me is a fuck because I was fat and needed to lose weight.  I hate to say this, but she was dead right about that!

So now we're here to the present date.  I haven't cut in like four or five years now.  I've thought about it, but pushed the idea from my head because I know that not only am I hurting myself, I'm hurting others that care about me and they don't want to see or hear about me hurting myself.  Believe me, I've thought about cutting myself recently.  And it was because my best friend's ex called me a succubus and all I do is take, take, take and I don't know how to give.  That my cats are nasty.  Well, she was the life sucker!  And that's all I have to say about that.

I don't know why I feel the need to write about my life, but I do.  And if you read this, meaning anyone who decides to read this, hats off to you.  You're a lot braver than I thought.  *laughs*

I've tried not using names, because I don't want word to get back to people, but if it does or if you are the one I talked about, just remember, don't try and mess with me now.  I WILL fight back.  I WILL seek revenge if I have to.  I will, fight like a girl.