angie watches through the window as nancy shrieks in full fish-wife mode for her dog, flailing arms in spastic fashion and dressed in an outfit that can only rightly be called a costume. angie watches lots of things. and listens. she’s often quite slow to the task, but eventually she manages to add up two and two.
she added up the two and two of nancy in a few weeks. and the sum — psychotic, alcoholic, perennial liar — had caused her to mount a retreat of self-protection. bitter irony — angie’s life is thus far gaily sprinkled with such ironies — that this particular act of self-protection sends her straight down alice’s rabbit hole, sends her straight into a parallel world from which she will never be able to get out.
but angie doesn’t know that now. doesn’t know, as she listens to nancy shriek, watches the flailing arms and flinches at the ludicrous costume, that this sickening woman, and later one equally sickening man, will destroy everything that they can possibly destroy. will put her in a prison and throw away the key. she thinks she’s added two and two to get four, and decided that that four is too risky, and made what she believes is the correct and wise retreat.
it’s astonishing how stupid we can be when we’re trying to be smart.
all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2016 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.