Tired of being manipulated? I am. Tired, that is. Manipulated, I don’t mind, as long as it’s only by me. Do I sound underhanded? Depends on your point of view, I suppose.
Anyway, the death scene from I’m Starved For You. I made some notes on my KOBO.
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“Charmaine slips her green smock on over her orange basics. There’s another procedure scheduled this afternoon. They always do them in the afternoons; they like to avoid the darkness of night. That way it’s more cheerful for everybody, her included.”
moi: this is it!!!!!!! {that is, I marked the place where the death scene begins, so I can quickly find it and chortle my way through it.}
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" ‘Hello,’ she says. ‘Isn’t it a lovely day? Look at all that sunshine! Who could be down on a day like this? Nothing bad is going to happen to you.’ This is true: from all that’s been observed, the experience appears to be an ecstatic one. The bad part happens to her, because she’s the one who has to worry about whether what she’s doing is right. Granted, it’s only the incorrigibles, the ones they haven’t been able to turn around, who are brought in for the procedure. The troublemakers, the ones who’d ruin Consilience if they had the chance. It’s a last resort, or so she’s been assured. Most of the procedures are men, but not all. Though none of the ones she’s done have been women, yet.”
moi: {no note: Whether or not the passage is self-explanatory, I leave to you to decide.}
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“Recently she’s had a tempting thought – What if I gave him a last blow job? Sort of like a last meal.”
moi: sort of like a celebration – Leonard Cohen {I’m only remarking that one particular poem of Cohen juxtaposes nicely here. Otherwise, I might have said, sort of like a happy meal.}
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“ ‘Have a wonderful trip,’ she says to him. She pats his arm, then turns her back so he can’t see her sliding the needle into the vial and drawing up the contents.”
moi: have a nice day. thank you. (NB what is a Canadian? someone who insults you, then thanks you. Thank you.) {I don’t know, maybe I’m tired of robotic sounding “Have… a… nice… day.” Ennui must be setting in, rigor mortis of the psyche. BTW, Sherlock Holmes, eat your heart out!}
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“ ‘Off we go,’ she says. She finds the vein, slips in the needle.”
moi: let’s rock and roll!!!!!!! {kids, don’t try this at home. {i.e., be sure you are in a public place…}}
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“The heart goes last.”
moi: really??????? {what to say here? you have to read this entire scene to appreciate it.}
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“There’ve been rumors about organ harvesting, but wouldn’t they want them brain-dead and on a drip? The fresher the better, as everyone knows. There’s also been veiled talk about protein-enriched livestock feed, but Charmaine can’t believe that.
There are just some things it’s better not to think about.
Tonight she’ll join the knitting circle, as usual. They’re doing little cotton hats for newborns. ‘Nice day?’ they’ll say to her. ‘Oh, a perfect day,’ she’ll reply.”
moi: that was it! {Yes, really. Only marking the end of the scene, and nothing more.}
