• mountain of doom •

• mountain of doom •
The girl went off to college yesterday. Her mom and her brother went with to see her into her dormitory. Feeling a little flat, which makes sense, as “flattening of affect” is the technical term used to describe how I generally handle adversity. Too much Charles Bronson in my childhood, too many Sergio Leone movies (if that’s possible), so all good things and every troubling thing together get the same emotionally landscaped topography: not hilly, one might say. Still – I’m gonna miss that gal, I guess. What I won’t miss, I don’t mind telling you, is the mess.
Why, for example, would a woman clean her makeup and mascara off with an absorbent tissue, and then leave the soiled byproduct beside the sink? Kilroy done been here? I don’t think!
And don’t think I exaggerate when I say it took a team of archeologists and a squad of experienced spelunkers just to find her room. We have yet to recover one of them, poor bastard. Still, we are hopeful. We think we heard signs of life – muffled screams and knocking sounds emanating from around where her bureau was last rumored to have been.
And I don’t imagine that it really boggles the mind (it only slightly stultifies), but it must be said, that that gal, who won’t be seen again until Thanksgiving, left without even making up her bed.
I’ll be darned if I’m gonna do it. I’m not going anywhere near the “Mountain of Doom”. If she asks, when she gets back, I’ll just say, “Why, we missed you so bad(ly), dear, we couldn’t change a thing in your room.”
~ Tim Burchfield



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