bad day

i decided to go ahead of misha and the kids to our hotel to change, or something. as i rounded the corner, i saw a huge, red, double-decker bus coming up the street i was turning onto. there was a fellow sticking half his body out of a top hatch, pointing at a banner strung across the street and yelling at the bus driver to slow down and back up so he could read it properly. the bus driver, with a grin on his face, slammed the bus into reverse and hit the gas pedal as hard as he could. he lost control and the bus started wobbling. to my surprise, rather than easing off the gas, he seemed to floor it, and right in front of my eyes, the entire vehicle tipped onto it's side and began skidding down the street. people were screaming from inside, and i started screaming too, watching this unfold. the bus was going so fast it flipped again, onto it's roof, and finally came to rest like that just outside a gas station. the people inside were shrieking in horror and pain. i saw the guy that had been leaning out the top hatch get crushed. other people were being squeezed by thousands of pounds of bus, too. a large, dark, shiny pool of blood was forming under the overturned bus. i screamed and screamed and covered my eyes and ran into my hotel room. i felt guilty, thinking that i should have gone over to try to help; but i couldn't bring myself to face the gruesome reality of it all. i almost thought to phone 911, but then figured 911 had probably already been called by a dozen people. i sat on the bed in the hotel room and rocked myself slowly back and forth with my hands wrapped around my head. i just wanted leon and the kids with me.

i could hear them coming, and i flung open the door to our room. julian tried to toddle off to see what all the commotion was down the block and i screamed at misha to not let him go look, that it was a terrible accident. misha scooped him up and we all went into the hotel room. some friends came by and we talked about it and i learned that the paramedics and ambulances and fire squads had all shown up and rescued a good portion of the people, though everyone was injured. it occurred to me to ask what it was that was written on the banner strung across the street, that the in the top of the bus had insisted the driver pull back for him to read. an ex-boyfriend who was in the room with us told me, "i didn't get to read it all. i think it was by a famous poet - enid, maybe? it read a bit like victorian nonsense. what bawling and tearing of hair out! pigs and babies! butterflies and candy! all rolling around in the filthy streets together! there was more. that's all i remember. it was gruesome. all of it."

i shut my eyes and waited.

soon i found myself at a wedding reception. the children were dancing, i was dressed up and beautiful, and my husband was all over me. he kept hiking up my skirt, and rubbing against my legs. i kept fending him off but his relentless desire made me feel lustful, too. so we wandered off to find a private place and ended up slipping into a janitor's closet. he pushed me down onto the ground and forced my legs apart. he tried to rip my stockings off but i begged him not to as there was still a party to attend afterwards. he complied and pulled them off gently. as he took himself out of his pants i was ready, completely, to make crazy passionate love. imagine my horror when, blank-faced and determined, he began to piss all over me. great, copious, hot yellow gushes of urine, all over me. when i started to protest, he aimed it at my face and i got mouthfuls of it. i started to vomit and cry and could feel my dress become soaked through. i kept puking up the wine and as soon as my mouth emptied of it's acrid taste, it would fill again with his urine. it was horrid. i was horrified. i started to scream, and that's when he found himself emptied. i started to yell at him. i got up and beat on him. he remained blank-faced and uneffected. i told him to fuck off and die. i was rinsing my face in the big steel grey sink in the closet and sobbing. he didn't say anything at all, just did up his pants and watched me, like i was his irrational haggard screaming chattel. he wasn't amused. he was slightly pissed that i did not conform to his fantasy being fulfilled. but mostly he seemed disaffected with my fury. i hated him with a rage so intense that gall kept rising in my throat. i had to go back out to the wedding reception in a soaked, stinking and stained dress, my whole body rank with the smell of his piss. i had no other clothes to wear.