Mermaid ATTACK
July 1st, 2009



I’m holding it on a fork, which is why it looks weird.
Taking a break from the food art for a moment… This is an excerpt from a longer piece I’m writing about a vampire named Alistair.
It had been a long day (night) and Alistair was unwinding with a glass of wine. Because he couldn’t digest anything other than blood, he was just taking sips before spitting them out. At first he spat them in arcs onto the floor, but after a while he got tired and just drizzled them down the front of his blouse. “Cheers, world,” he said, raising his glass, wobbling it in the darkness. “Cheers to being a fucking horrible place to live.” He then threw the glass to the floor, where it shattered into hundreds of glittering shards, each of which reflected the television’s eerie blue-white glow. “Fuck you, fucking Celtics,” Alistair slurred. “Fuck! Mother fuckaaar!” He threw the remote at the screen, but it was a weak throw and the remote just bounced off. “I’m sorry,” Alistair sobbed, putting his hand over his face. “I’m sorry. It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s fair. I know it’s fair. I just fucking—fuck. Fuuu—huuuck!!!!” he bellowed upward, ripping off his ascot with his long fingernails, tearing open his shirt and falling to his knees. The TV’s pale light glinted on his fangs as Ray Allen, Paul Pierce and the rest of the Celtics hugged their rivals good-naturedly. When Alistair collected himself, he returned his focus to the screen and was, once again, overwhelmed by the amazing sportsmanship his preferred basketball team showed its opponents. “God they’re gentlemanly,” he whispered, his voice ragged. Then he shut off the TV with his remote and climbed solemnly into his coffin.
Let me slip into something more comfortable



It has these horrible fingers and it’s trying to get out, I think!



