odd 



A FEW HOURS IN THE 

a visualization by misha 

You are awakened by being punched in the stomach, hard. You
Have no idea what time it is, what day it is, even if
it's day or night. You are exhausted, sore, and hungry.

A man is yelling at you, telling you that you are ugly, fat,
stupid, and good for nothing but whoring. And that you
aren't even good at that. He's embarrassed to be stuck
with a bitch like you who can't earn her keep. You
brought in over 300 dollars yesterday, but that isn't
enough. Nothing you could do, no amount of money you
could bring in, could ever be enough. Just because you
were the one who brought it in.

You get in the shower and wash off the crust and scum from
last night, while he puts the money you earned into his
veins. You put on some makeup and try to fix your hair,
while he continues to point out every thing you have
ever done to intentionally harm him and his reputation.
Most of these things you weren't aware you had the
power to do. If you could do those things and control
him so intensely, you'd be able to get away, to have a
life, instead of being a prisoner.

You get in the car. You don't know where he is driving you.
You are still tired, still hungry, because he won't let
you eat until you prove you are worthy, and besides,
fat cunts like you don't need to eat. During the drive,
he jokes about killing you and dumping your body
somewhere. He can always find someone who isn't as ugly
or stupid or lazy as you. You are so lucky he takes
pity on you, because no one else would have you. If he
killed you tonight, no one would care, no one would .
notice you were gone. You think he is probably right.

The car stops at an spot you have been to before. It is
pretty empty and deserted. It will be a long night. It
is cold and the wind bites. You are wearing shorts, a
cutoff tee shirt, and only a flannel shirt to keep you
warm. He shows you where he will be, and tells you not
to go further than five blocks. You step out into the
night. Your stomach turns at the thought of doing
anything with anyone. You feel like you're going to
puke.

You have been out only fifteen minutes or so, but already
the wind and the cold are getting to you. Your feet and
legs and arms and hands and face sting with cold. You
just wish someone would stop so you could be warm for
the few gross minutes it would take the bastard to get
off.

(copyright misha l995'a11 rights reserved.)

You notice a car that has been by three times. Is it a
who's going to chop you up? Is it a cop? Or is
it just some asshole trying to pick you up. The car
pulls over. The guy asks you if you want a ride some
where and flashes a twenty. You grab it as you get in
the car. He smells like sweat and stale beer. Your
stomach does flip-flops. After a few minutes of
grunting and grabbing your hair and banging your head
against the child seat in the back of his yuppie car,
the creeps finally gets off you. You smile and get out
of the car, flirting with him, so maybe he will come
back another time.

You grab some tissues and clean yourself up. You quickly try
to fix your make up. Then your man's car pulls up
behind you. You get in and hand him your purse. Is that
all?

The third guy seems nicehamburger at a drive-thru. You gulp it down, and you
tell him a story of how you lost your job and you have
two kids to feed and you don't know what to do. He
gives you ten more dollars, acting like he's the most
wonderful sensitive guy in the world. You fawn over
him, do the deed, and you're out in the cold again.

The seventh guy is a wierdo. First he won't pay you up
front, but you stay, because if you get out without the
cash you will get the crap beat out of you by your man.
Then you notice the inside door handle is gone. You
are trapped. There is no way out. You start to panic.
You go down on him while he is driving, but you want to
bite it off. Instead, the pain and cold and fear boil
over and you start to gag. The vomit comes up. You try
to force it back down so he won't notice. It doesn't
work and you spew all over the creep's lap. The car
swerves to a stop. He punches you in the face. Then he
gets out and opens your door. You are dragged out of
the car, still retching. He kicks you and punches you
and screams at you. Cars drive by, but no one stops, no
one notices, no one cares. Thenin the midst of the puke
and the blood and the pain, you notice the bastard's
fly is open and his tiny, limp prick is flapping
around. You start giggling. You feel one more thump.
You see lights. Then nothing.

He is standing over you. Your protector. Your only hope. He
has gone through your purse, and now is tearing at your
clothes trying to find the money he knows you tried to
steal from him, muttering about how he needs to get
himself a new woman, cause he's gonna chop this one.
But he takes you back to the motel and you are grateful
for the warmth and the break.

Not exactly "Pretty Woman", is it?