His Frozen Food Angel

In the name of my Love, today has been such a glorious day! I have been thinking only of him every waking minute, except the time I dropped a stapler on my toe. Even then I thought about him kissing it, and I felt better. I think of him as I stand in the grocery store. I search high and low on my quest for the ambrosia my love desires: Fishsticks. I know he doesn’t like breadcrumbs, so I comb through the frozen food section, seeking the grilled! The food is frozen, but my heart burns for his soft caress.... Oh, how I miss that shimmering puce hair that ripples in the breeze whenever he breaks wind! I'll leave my present on his doorstep... he need never know he has a steadfast angel watching over his freezer. My love is enough for me; just seeing his happiness makes my spirit soar.

There are children's books in the rack at the front of the grocery store. As I peruse the contents of the first, I come upon a fuzzy bunny. As I run my fingers across the wool on the page that makes up that fuzzy bunny, I am reminded of the coarse, grime-encrusted hairs flowing from under his arms... Oh, those armpits! I suddenly remember to grab a razor for my luscious lover. It costs $3.95, but I would do anything, pay any price... for love.

Also in the racks are packages of gum. These pieces bring to mind the very first gift my love gave to me. I still remember that bright, balmy, summer's thunderstorm, sitting in my desk, trying to keep the flies away from my beloved. I was the only one who would sit near him, although I don't understand why. I adore the smell emanating from his very essence, an aroma that follows me everywhere, no matter how often I wash. He's always with me in that way, in all the little things he says and does... That summer day, he gave me a gift straight from his heart. Or rather, from his mouth into my hair. I had to cut it out with a pair of scissors, but I treasure that piece of gum above all my other possessions. I stored it tenderly in my shrine, in my closet... that fortunate piece of sweetened chew that has been where I long to be, pressed up against those yellowing teeth that glisten in the sun... oh, I would do anything for love.

When I return home from the market, I begin my daily ritual of preparing to make The Call. I breathe in and out, in... and out, many times. I sit cross-legged on my floor, arms on my knees, staring at the phone and steeling myself for what is to come. One last, long sigh, and I pick it up to dial that blessed code to unlock the safe containing my happiness. I got his number by wearing a mask and following his friend into a dark alley, knocking him senseless and copying the sacred sequence of digits into a notepad reserved especially for that purpose. I might have been arrested, but I took that risk because I would do anything... for love.

I enter the numbers into the receiver, and then hold it close to my ear while I tremble in anticipation of hearing the melodious, ringing tone of his voice. (Oh, that voice! One comparable to that of a ventriloquist that's been kicked where it hurts, or Fran from The Nanny... That lovely, nasal voice with the depth and timbre of a tin can!) The tone sounds once... twice... three times... and then, lo and behold! My heart leaps to my throat as the receiver clicks and my Snookums mutters those breathtaking words: "Yeah. Who's this?"

I'm left speechless.

The only sounds for a few blessed moments are those of my heavy, nervous, overwhelmed breathing. Sweat drips into my eyes as I gasp for air, hyperventilating at the thought that he's actually speaking to me, at this actual moment! Be still, my racing heart! Wait, again he speaks! Oh, speak, let those words tumble from your chapped, peeling lips, golden honey dribbling into my ears, intoxicating my mind and sending me to the ninth level of heaven! My stomach jumps as he says, "What the hell, again? Stop calling me, you psycho! You hear me?" I nod, my lip trembling, soaking up every high-pitched crack in his speech. "You never call this number again!" I hear the receiver slam (loudly) back onto the hook. A tear slips down my cheek. A tear, not of darkest sadness, but of pure joy! My darling, my dearest, he has spoken to me yet again! I pop the tape out of the recorder, planting a kiss on the label and replacing it on the shelf below the hat I stole from his locker two years ago.

I take a deep breath, and drawing on the lingering happiness inside me, I start cleaning my room. I smooth down the covers on my bed, I blow the dust off of the plastic flowers on my windowsill, and I stoop to sweep the garbage from under my dresser. The dust bunnies that proliferate among the clippings of photos I pasted myself into with him remind me of his toes. His feet, the most elusive aspect of him (as he rarely changes his socks), are covered in an exotic fungus that grows about the roots of the hair on his toes. Oh, those toes... covered in a dense fur, always moist and I'm sure, so very soft... I sigh in contentment and gather them up in a Tupperware, then slide them into a drawer close to my socks. Our feet will be close together. I'll keep them there forever... because I would do anything... for love.

I walk to the other end of my room, towards the xylophone on the stand near my window. The old, leather stool lets out a sigh as I slide onto it, picking up my sticks and facing the shining metal tubes. They can produce an awe-inspiring song or a chaotic cacophony depending on the player... much like the melody of my soul when he's near me. I tap out each note, tentatively, at first, and then throw myself into the music with reckless abandon. I pour my heart and soul, my entire being into reproducing the sound my spirit makes, the song my inner being sings, when he brushes by and leaves me reeling in the wake of his strong, perfumed odor. I know that if he could hear me, he would feel it too. My mother is pounding on the door, yelling words I can't hear, but I don't care. I do it all for him. I would do anything for him. An unrestrained smile sweeps across my face as I toss my hair and strike the chords. I would do anything... for love.