by Treehouse Editors
For starters, you take yourself out of the picture. Totally. You’re nodding your head but do you get, really un-der-stand, what I mean by out of this particular frame? I mean as in relocated in the Witness Protection Program or transported to another dimension. You don’t call her. You don’t sneak a peek. You don’t e-mail or snail-mail or nail her in any way, shape, or form during this interval we discussed, which amounts to the rest of your natural perverted life. You’re nodding your head and closing your eyes, which indicates a certain mixed-message style of thinking. I who know you know how difficult it will be for you not to bend your devious septum of a mind to finding some way, José, to contact her that wasn’t in my above mentioned list and therefore might be considered some kind of a loop hole or excuse. That is to somehow let her know she’s still in your thoughts when we’ve agreed, right? Agreed in a very serious blood-brotherly sort of way that you and she as a you-and-she situation does not exist.
I who saw your ratty little carcass emerge, if not exactly from your sainted mother, then from the nasty little carbuncle of your childhood through your seriously flawed adolescence to your current excuse of manhood, must speak plainly. As an officer of the law, I can’t crucify you on this one, since she refuses to proffer charges. As your uncle, however, I am giving you the opportunity to evacuate the scene ASAP, while that sweet young thing you nearly sliced and diced, so to speak, that woman whose little head you so flagrantly fucked with, continues to mend her ruthlessly scuttled life. If I should hear of any attempted contact on your part, I may need to invoke avuncular privilege and transport your festering innards to the outside, where I may see and know them better. And may understand what possible wiring gone haywire connects me and mine to your genetic cesspool.
Linda Shapiro is a freelance writer who has published articles, reviews, and essays on dance and the performing arts, architecture, design, and other subjects in numerous publications in the Twin Cities and New York. In her former life she worked as a dancer and choreographer. Her fiction has appeared in the online journals On the Premises and Bending Genres. Her work was shortlisted for the 2019 Fiction Award for the Canadian journal Into the Void.