Thursday, January 10, 2013

Rubbing salt on the wound...a METAPHOR....

The flesh is raw...open...oozing even....
And he stands there....lingering just above it...
with a large container of KOSHER SALT in his gnarled hand.....
And he is TEMPTED.....OH, BOY....is he tempted !
to just pour the whole freakin' ball o' wax directly onto that lesion....
and then just to sit back in his big-ass, leather chair...
and watch as the pain and agony take itself right up to its highest level of human suffering...
He fantasizes, in fact, about causing the demise of her "gorgeousness"...
That face....her quintessentially, beautiful face......writhing in sublime delirium...
distorted almost beyond recognition......
He realizes at that moment that he is ravenous.....
He pulls a MATZOH BALL out of his designer pocket...
chomping at the bit....
He thinks to himself, "Thank GOD I remembered to bring my MATZOH BALL.."
"wheww"
She watches as he devours the PURE BALL of CARBOHYDRATE....
She finds it quite revolting, but says nothings, for fear that he will then retaliate with his SALT....
Just then....
his cellular phone rings...
and he walks out of the room, his voice loud and raucous as he forgets everything
 about her,
her face, the wound.....
and gives his FULL, BERATING attention to the poor sap on the other end of the phone...
Clearly the sap has wronged him in some way...
She seizes the opportunity to exit before the concept of her pain is re-visited by him....
She gathers her skirt around the wound to stop the bleeding....
And as she sprints toward her exit, she grabs a spare
band-aid  from the Faberge egg on the foyer table...
FREEDOM.....at last......