ThriftHorror

Recent Posts

  • Interrupting your silence for an update!
  • Rabbit Season!!
  • Dolphins in Bondage
  • From the ‘Creepy Little Dead Girl’ Files
  • Putti: Creepy as F***

Recent Comments

  • Hannah Theresa Weyland on Just stand still.
  • Brunettepet on Can’t sleep, birdhouse will eat me
  • hotclaws on And another enigma.
  • Brunettepet on Well and truly fired
  • Brunettepet on A beautiful mystery!

Tags

"handicrafts" (tm) 12 Days 2010 12days2011 12days2012 12days2013 12days2014 aminals amorphous blobs angels bad art Bears Best Of biohazard bottles broked candles ceramics children Christmas clowns Country Crafts DIY dolls don't wear that! for the kids furries Halloween Holiday Posts horrors huh? it must be bunnies Just Cool juxtapositions kittens moments My Funny Valentine? Not PC NSFW plates puppies San Antonio shelfpig shell art Weird Religion

Best of Thrift

  • Next To New Consignment
  • Top Drawer Thrift
  • Treasure City Thrift

Blogness

  • Rewind Knits and Crochets
  • Thrift Madness
  • Thrift Store Adventures
  • Thrift Store Horror
  • Yardsaling to Adventure!

Links

  • RSS Feed
  • Thrifthorror on Facebook
  • Thrifthorror on Pinterest
  • ThriftHorror on Twitter

A brief intermission.

7-10-07svrssgrassskirt

They do not know who I am because for so many years, I stand by the man with the grass skirt. He smiles, he invites the ladies over for parties, to drape flowers around their necks. He tells them about his rippled sixpack, about the grass under his feet, about how difficult it is to keep the grass skirt smooth, and how much he would appreciate their help in this matter.

Always, with the smile. The smile of a man who knows you can’t help looking up his grass skirt right now, and doesn’t care. It takes a special man to be that comfortable in that skirt.

Me, I’m the one that carries the basket of fruit to the party, that sets the tables, that blushes furiously when he squeezes my orange and asks me if a tender fruit is ripest. I’m the one that wore two petticoats, an overskirt, a head-scarf and a heavy linen apron to a luau, because that’s the way I roll.

Everything is stitched together. My worried frown, shining with second-hand embarrassment that he somehow reflects from his bronzed skin. My mouth is a thin line of gathered stiches, lest I tear my face open and howl at the moon for pain, for the aching joy of finally making a noise, of breaking out of this endless moment of service to finally, joyfully, bite into an apple of my own, dare to eat a peach, shame the world by tearing his skirt off and wearing it myself, proud flowers against shockingly white skin, breaking my stitches in shameless, selfish happiness, and he can grin like a fool all he wants, because that skirt’s not going to hide either of us anymore. Today. Today. TODAY, by God. Just as soon as I find a platter for these grapes.

Savers, South Lamar and 290

June 23, 2010   TV's Jacob
Uncategorized juxtapositions, moments

Related Posts

  • Who brought the matador to the honeymoon?
    Who brought the matador to the honeymoon?
  • I have no eyes but I must scream
    I have no eyes but I must scream
  • Oh, Joy
    Oh, Joy
×

  • The Desert’s Stark Beauty
  • Meet the Raggedies

Leave a Reply

Cancel

  • (will not be published)
Copyright © 2013 ThriftHorror - Things From Beyond the Bargain Bin: Monday, Wednesday, Friday, powered by Wordpress
7ads6x98y