My sister is fucking crazy.
This is something she wrote this weekend, and it is so far out that I decided that I HAD to share it with you all. The next writing sample I post will be my own, I promise!
Enjoy!
->Ever Heard of Goose Frottage?
There are two definitions of frottage- one to make a rubbing, say, of a tombstone, by placing paper over it and rubbing a crayon against the surface to make a print; the other, to dry hump.
I'm confident we are all familiar with the term but is it safe for me to assume you've never witnessed Goose Frottage?
It was on a stroll passed Lake Agawam on a brisk late winter day that i noticed two geese with their wings out, muttering to one another as they apparently did the Fox Trot. I would be horribly mistaken in this accessment.
"HEY! What do you think you're doing??" I whipped around, my romantic thoughts of geese waltzing lakeside vansihing with a shimmery pop as I took in the angry goose, coming toward me at a contained waddle, not unlike Samara coming out of the TV.
"Uh." What else to do other than stammer? In my astonishment I put my hand in my pocket- looking for something? He struck himself back, his beady eyes flaring.
"What, you gonna shoot me?" he demanded. From the way the female was leaning against the tree behind him, I could see she was a no-good type and thought it best to keep my moral objections to myself- one so young and promising, wasting her life with a bully.
WAIT A MINUTE!!!!
"Are you a real goose?" I stupidly asked. The idea was to try to make sense of the reality- that a goose had addressed me; seemed better to try to talk to him than just make it another occassion when I'd judged strangers on their conduct. They were geese for crying out loud.
His dry laugh turned into a furious honk. Normally I would have laughed.
"Are you a real PERson??" I laughed, tired, suddenly.
"No," I said, quietly. He studied me for a minute and the female came up to brush her feathers against my face. I jerked away too suddenly and they stepped on my feet and put their bills in my face.
"Well, whatever you are," she hissed.
"Don't go around interrupting us ever again," he flared. "Just don't come by here at this time of day again." They started away, still glaring at me.
"This is the perfect time to walk," I protested. He stopped and she moved away. He raised a wing and snorted.
"This time of day, stupid, is for me and my lady to make some friction, IF you get my drift." And with that, he waddled away and they each slid into the water among a gang of murmuring ducks who were looking at me askance.
I walked on home, shaken and stirred and have sat since trying to find a way to talk about it.
So.
What do you think it means?
This is something she wrote this weekend, and it is so far out that I decided that I HAD to share it with you all. The next writing sample I post will be my own, I promise!
Enjoy!
->Ever Heard of Goose Frottage?
There are two definitions of frottage- one to make a rubbing, say, of a tombstone, by placing paper over it and rubbing a crayon against the surface to make a print; the other, to dry hump.
I'm confident we are all familiar with the term but is it safe for me to assume you've never witnessed Goose Frottage?
It was on a stroll passed Lake Agawam on a brisk late winter day that i noticed two geese with their wings out, muttering to one another as they apparently did the Fox Trot. I would be horribly mistaken in this accessment.
"HEY! What do you think you're doing??" I whipped around, my romantic thoughts of geese waltzing lakeside vansihing with a shimmery pop as I took in the angry goose, coming toward me at a contained waddle, not unlike Samara coming out of the TV.
"Uh." What else to do other than stammer? In my astonishment I put my hand in my pocket- looking for something? He struck himself back, his beady eyes flaring.
"What, you gonna shoot me?" he demanded. From the way the female was leaning against the tree behind him, I could see she was a no-good type and thought it best to keep my moral objections to myself- one so young and promising, wasting her life with a bully.
WAIT A MINUTE!!!!
"Are you a real goose?" I stupidly asked. The idea was to try to make sense of the reality- that a goose had addressed me; seemed better to try to talk to him than just make it another occassion when I'd judged strangers on their conduct. They were geese for crying out loud.
His dry laugh turned into a furious honk. Normally I would have laughed.
"Are you a real PERson??" I laughed, tired, suddenly.
"No," I said, quietly. He studied me for a minute and the female came up to brush her feathers against my face. I jerked away too suddenly and they stepped on my feet and put their bills in my face.
"Well, whatever you are," she hissed.
"Don't go around interrupting us ever again," he flared. "Just don't come by here at this time of day again." They started away, still glaring at me.
"This is the perfect time to walk," I protested. He stopped and she moved away. He raised a wing and snorted.
"This time of day, stupid, is for me and my lady to make some friction, IF you get my drift." And with that, he waddled away and they each slid into the water among a gang of murmuring ducks who were looking at me askance.
I walked on home, shaken and stirred and have sat since trying to find a way to talk about it.
So.
What do you think it means?
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
Re: Your sister.
Single?
Also, can she hook me up with whomever deals her whatever she seems to be on?