Ordinary Things
She was pulling her own teeth out in the café where I was eating. Some of the other patrons were bothered by it, but I was not afraid. I just kept masticating my grilled cheese and imbibing a sizeable amount of black coffee. The food was not especially good, but I was particularly hungry on that day.
I had come in to the place to get out of the rain. It had been raining for three days straight. I missed the bus I needed to get on by a few seconds so I became stranded downtown. Like a lost child I wandered the streets in a search for somewhere dry. So I stepped into the St. Ambrose Café and ordered some things from the menu. Luckily I had a ten dollar bill burning a hole in my pocket that day.
It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized how hungry I actually was. When they brought my grilled cheese out to me I started eating manically. I did look up from my plate for several seconds, but when I did there she was pulling out her teeth.
After that I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was a beautiful girl with long, wavy, black hair and a fascinating face. Why was she pulling her teeth? Was this some nervous habit?
The manager of the café kept yelling at her saying that she had better clean up the blood because it wasn’t sanitary for someone to be doing dental surgery in a restaurant. She acted as though he didn’t exist.
When the last tooth had been pulled she walked out of the place leaving behind a pool of blood and about twenty shiny teeth.
I felt compelled to follow her. I left behind a half a grilled sandwich and an empty coffee mug. I flung the doors of the café open and started chasing the girl down the street. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say when I actually caught up to her. Here is what I did say.
Me: Hey, what are you doing?
Her: Same thing as you I guess [sounding like there was cotton in her mouth].
Me: What was going on in the café back there?
Her: Oh, I read somewhere in the bible that if a part of your body is stumbling you, you should cut it off. It’s lent you see and I’ve given up chewing as my penance. Would you like to come over to my place and read the bible with me?
Me: It’s not something I normally do, but I guess, why not?
Her studio apartment was only a few blocks away. When I stepped in I immediately smelled a smell like a skunk’s spray. There were little piles of dirty clothes everywhere. Some of them had blood on the, some of them didn’t.
“I’m an artist, you see. My life is my masterpiece. You can’t get to the moon with teeth, just like how you can’t stop yourself from peeing in a public swimming pool,” she said.
“Hey, do you want to listen to a record?” She had taken off her shirt.
I asked her if she had any Iron Butterfly records. She didn’t, but she did have the Soft Machine. “That sounds good then,” I replied.
We sat still, staring at each other for hours. We listened to Woody Guthrie, Syd Barrett and Donavan. Finally she pulled out a joint and said, “Do you want to smoke?” I told her I did, but I had better get going soon.
“It’s okay, I’m used to it.” I thought that reply to be very strange.
So after achieving intoxication I said goodbye and went back out into the streets. Everything seemed slanted to me. Cities usually a built to go up and down, vertical, but this city seemed full of acute and obtuse angles. The rain had let up and I was feeling optimistic. I managed to find another bus to catch that would bring me close to home, but it wouldn’t arrive for another half an hour.
I killed time talking to a homeless man with a harmonica. He told me tall tales: “When I used to own the Empire State Building I was something of a man. Then my spirit broke like glass and I became the shattered image that you see before you now.”
I told him he looked good with a long beard and his tattered clothes weren’t too bad of a fashion statement either. There are lots of kids who pay big bucks for a look like that.
Him: Well, I left all those superficial things behind. Now I’m home free as they say. No more worries. I don’t even as for change. [He blew a few notes on his harmonica] You don’t have any change do you?
Me: No, I haven’t changed in a while. I’m still who I was a few years ago.
Him: Me, I’ve made big changes. I used to be the captain of a great big clipper ship. I had underlings and everything. Now I’m just underneath. I’m like a worm in the ground now.
Me: I know what you mean. Well, here comes my bus. It was nice talking to you.
The bus driver looked like she wasn’t having a very good day, so I decided not to say ‘hi.’ My temporary companions on the bus had colorful faces. One man was green, another blue. A twelve year old girl was orange. What looked like her mother was all white. Another woman was all purple. It was a most interesting crowd visually. I wondered if they were all from the circus.
When I got home I found my cat lying dead on the kitchen floor. He had gotten into one of the poison traps I had set for ants. I cried a single tear and put the cadaver in the freezer.
That night I watched four movies in a row stopping only to get a beer from the fridge from time to time. I didn’t sleep until 3am. While I was sleeping I had a dream about the beach and the girl with the bloody, toothless mouth.
Social scientific inquiry into liberation theory, scientific socialism and critical theory perspectives on contemporary culture.