Brought to you by the effects of Stockholm Syndrome from holding myself hostage for so many years.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Helen Keller as an imaginary friend
That's right, folks. I have an imaginary friend. What is most surprising is that it is none other that Helen Keller. Mind you, it is the young Helen, and not the older, more talkative one. So, what is it like having an imaginary friend that can't hear me, see me, or isn't able to talk to me? A bit crazy to be honest. See, she tries real hard to let me know that she is there for me by letting out a playful moan, then slaps me over the head with a kipper. She's heavy into vaudevillian slapstick.
You know, I'll do something, write something, say something totally awesome and all I get from her is, "Whuhahagurgle....bleh!" It is so one-sided. I have to like shove things right into her hand for her to even respond at all.
Me: "Hey, Helen!" (I know she is deaf, but remember this: deaf people just need you to shout real slowly like, then they can hear you fine--kind of the same deal as with foreign people.)
Me: "Do you want to go outside and smell stuff and throw rocks and shit? I know you sure do like that."
Me: "Here." (shoves a meatpie up close her nose and places a medium sized stone in her hand).
Guess what she does? She throws the damn meatpie at me, hitting me in the face, and then shoves the stone in her gob.
She is quite the little pill.
The things that she tries to tell me and yet can't quite do it. Where's the damn Miracle Worker when you need her? The thing that has kind of been a bit of a head scratcher is that I caught her having a conversation, an honest to god conversation, with Mr. Magoo and Fozzy the Bear--other remaining friends from my childhood. It seems that I have a certain effect on Miss Helen, but she takes great measures to make me feel like I don't. I did manage to get a word out of her. She said to me, "F-f-f-fuh-friend!", and then poked me in the eye. Damn, that hurt!
I am thinking that a trip to the well is in order. It's either that, or I will have to start re-arranging the furniture, put oven mitts on her, or leave the plunger in the toilet. I mean, come on, if you can talk to other people so often, yet are totally mum to me, someone you used to hang with all the time, well, I'm not a dipshit. It must mean that you want to bump into stuff somewhere else.
But, I gotta say that Miss Helen sure is a capricious little gal. She will run off for a time, then I will hear her moaning and grunting playfully again--you know, "Where's Helen?" She then jumps out and hits me in the nuts with her walking stick then runs away! How she can freakin' see where my softies are, I don't know. She is anything but off the mark, and fugking fast too!
I tend to get my hopes up that she'll stick around and at least whomp me over the head just for old time sakes, but alas, she runs away and hides longer and longer nowadays. *sigh* She used to like carrying on with me, her wonderful, wonderful friend, but I think that I am no longer cool enough for her anymore. I just only get brief glimpses into her wacky hijinks with Fozzy and Mr. Magoo, now. I don't know what happened, but it sure did happen. I know that I am still willing to go to the well and try to get out some meaningful words from her if only she'd let me.
Helen: "Wha? Ooooh still f-f-fuhriend! Sa-stop b-being aaaah beeetch."
Me: "Freakin' sweet!"
Helen: (Gets out a heavy kipper) WHOMP! "Heheheheheh! Mutton head!!!"
Me: "Meatbag! Wait... you're talking now!!!"
On a related note:
This is how it feels to have regular conversations with people who are my friends and also getting to hear from my regulars in Gruntonia. I think I will be quite busy having fun singing and spinning around till I puke with my homies and beloved Gruntonians. Can I get a hell yeah? Oh, you know I just can't stop the music now. Doe a deer, a female deer indeed!