Thursday, December 5, 2013
a case of the squawks
"Hi," said Angela. She switched colors and Caroline watched her in silence for a few minutes.
"You know what? A few days ago I threw a piece of chalk at Mrs. Whitehead," Angela said.
"How'd that go over?"
"I couldn't tell because she was behind her greenhouse door. At the time it seemed like a good idea. Later I thought it could've been a mistake."
"Why'd you think it was good idea in the first place?"
"Well, it had to do with throwing it in reverse, you see. But, well, you know my thoughts on revenge and retaliation."
"Later when I thought it might've been a mistake, I drank a coffee and then I felt better."
"That reminds me. Wes asked me if I could fix him a cup of coffee before I came out, but I forgot. I'm going to run home and do that. Be right back."
Peter, the Canada Post guy, paused as he walked by to wave at Angela. He often strolled by to admire her art.
"Hey! Caroline said not to use that red notebook! Screw her!"
Strangely, Angela felt warm as if someone had draped a down comforter over her shoulders. She glanced down at the notebook. Then, while he walked away, she picked up a piece of black chalk and began to make cloud-like shapes.
But when Caroline returned she started squawking like a savage chicken. "Please get rid of that black part!"
"If Peter sees it he's going to think it's about him!" she squawked.
At that, Angela's mind seized and try as she might she couldn't will herself to think. Caroline said something else that she could only register as a series of squawks.
"I don't understand," said Angela.
More squawks. "He's going to interpret it that it's about him!"
"Well, he can interpret it the way he wants but I think he already associated himself with black even before I drew it," said Angela.
"I'll think about it."
When Caroline left her alone again, Angela gagged and dry-heaved over the grass. She got up and galloped in frantic circles, eyes wide and nostrils flared.