The last temptation of Edgar Allan Poe
I had the oddest of nightmares during the past weekend:
It started out in my bedroom at this cottage my parents used to have back when I was a kid, and I was talking to this cute girl who seemed like an amalgam of a friend from back in High School tossed in with this other girl from the office. I knew right off the bat things wouldn’t end up properly because as soon as we said the first few words to each other I was all over her, kissing her nape and shoulders and stuff. I was sort of worried, though, because I really didn’t want to be doing that, because of my girlfriend, but I kept on it anyway.
The wardrobe by the bed had its double doors open ajar and I pushed her in and over a shelf above the drawers where I kept my underwear and socks.
As if the current symbolism weren’t enough, things got a lot weirder:
This angry mob thronged angrily through the door and caught me by the arms. Half the people there were wearing white aprons and half of them were wearing black leather jackets. They pinned me spread-eagle down on the floor, holding me by my wrists and ankles. The girl said nothing, buttoning her blouse back on with a blank expression on her face.
A pot of bubbling pitch-black tar was produced from the leather-clad crowd, and it was soon followed by a sac of white feathers by the people in aprons. They all howled mad and it made me smile for a split second, for I half-consciously realized where my mind was getting all that from: It’s a mid-19th century Edgar Allan Poe tale called The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether, in which lunatics get to overthrow the medical staff at this asylum and lock them up after tarring & feathering them.
Of course my fun was cut short by the sudden realization I was about to get tarred and feathered myself. I screamed in protest, vainly trying to defend myself but the crowd just sneered and called me names, saying I was no good and deserved the punishment for cheating on my girlfriend like that.
I woke up sweating like hell just before the first drop of tar touched my skin, then preemptively deleted a couple of names from the address book in my cell phone.
You know. Just in case.
It started out in my bedroom at this cottage my parents used to have back when I was a kid, and I was talking to this cute girl who seemed like an amalgam of a friend from back in High School tossed in with this other girl from the office. I knew right off the bat things wouldn’t end up properly because as soon as we said the first few words to each other I was all over her, kissing her nape and shoulders and stuff. I was sort of worried, though, because I really didn’t want to be doing that, because of my girlfriend, but I kept on it anyway.
The wardrobe by the bed had its double doors open ajar and I pushed her in and over a shelf above the drawers where I kept my underwear and socks.
As if the current symbolism weren’t enough, things got a lot weirder:
This angry mob thronged angrily through the door and caught me by the arms. Half the people there were wearing white aprons and half of them were wearing black leather jackets. They pinned me spread-eagle down on the floor, holding me by my wrists and ankles. The girl said nothing, buttoning her blouse back on with a blank expression on her face.
A pot of bubbling pitch-black tar was produced from the leather-clad crowd, and it was soon followed by a sac of white feathers by the people in aprons. They all howled mad and it made me smile for a split second, for I half-consciously realized where my mind was getting all that from: It’s a mid-19th century Edgar Allan Poe tale called The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether, in which lunatics get to overthrow the medical staff at this asylum and lock them up after tarring & feathering them.
Of course my fun was cut short by the sudden realization I was about to get tarred and feathered myself. I screamed in protest, vainly trying to defend myself but the crowd just sneered and called me names, saying I was no good and deserved the punishment for cheating on my girlfriend like that.
I woke up sweating like hell just before the first drop of tar touched my skin, then preemptively deleted a couple of names from the address book in my cell phone.
You know. Just in case.
posted by 186282mps at 8:22 AM
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