The most amazing thing about this angel–well, maybe she’s not an angel, maybe she’s some sort of garden fairy, from a garden where the bay hedge is shaped into a grinning skull, the roses chant weird arcane syllables, and the basil creeps up and ask you for change, definitely not the kind of garden that wins second place in the home owner’s association’s “best lawn” contest–angel or fairy, though, the thing that amazed me most was that I walked right by her, totally distracted by the local menagerie of comically mangled animals. How’d I miss her?
Maybe it’s the mind’s blessed ability to hide things from itself, to live in ignorance. But, no, now she’s haunting my dreams. Let me share her with you.
Did she drink paint? Did she pour ketchup in her eyes, quaff a few pints of periwinkle, massively overdose on rouge, and then try to sleep it off in a puddle of green tempera? It happens. Periwinkle’s pretty hardcore, so far as pastels go. It has that kind of effect.
Upon seeing her headgear, the 60s abandoned the handcrafted ethos entirely and switched entirely to polyester. Weaving chains of flowers through a loved one’s hair just left to much blood on the hands. Too many memories. Also, she has green tempera in her ears, which is kind of disgusting and ruins the mood.
You’ve got a little something on your dress there. I think it’s probably ichor.
Welcome to the Loop 410 Goodwill! The Eternally Leaking Paint Pen Angel will be taking your coat and sense of decency. Don’t worry, she’ll give them back, just hand wash them and dry on low heat and they’ll be as good as new.
Oh jaded pumpkin, what does it take? You’ve got the Angel of Ooze, and all you can do is smirk at her? She deserves better than that.
If you’re visiting Nine Lives Books, down the road a bit there’s a really nice little Goodwill. It’s in the 1960s, low-ceiling mode, a little snug, not the widest stock, but a good variety of lovingly displayed weirdness. Totally worth the drive across town, if for nothing else than the magical puddle-fairies. If enough children clap their hands at the same time, maybe she’ll stop leaking.
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[…] long-time readers may remember this angel from the distant past. She’s only gotten worse with age. Worse, and weirdly savage, in a way that angels generally […]