I think it’s well documented that I am almost insensibly a fan of Cherie Priest, both as a human and as a writer; the latter, at least, you can ascertain by looking at the cover of her latest, Not Flesh Nor Feathers, and seeing who her blurb is from. Yes, that means I think you should buy it.
And oddly enough, Cherie’s contribution to A Month of Writers fits into the theme of being kept up half the night, albeit in a different way that I meant it. You’ll see. Also, for those of you who need to know, “Moriarty6” in this piece is Cherie’s hubby.
CHERIE PRIEST: rules of engagement
Patterns of interaction with
Me: We always experience X.
Him: I have never noticed X.
Me: Well, now you’ll notice it.
Him: Crap. Now I notice X all the time.
Submitted by way of example — our downstairs neighbors. It began as just a Downstairs Neighbor with the Visiting Screamer, aka his girlfriend. But then a few weeks ago, the Visiting Screamer became the Live-In Screamer. Many a time have I been gossipping with
Last night, they vindicated me. Oh, it wasn’t one of their more bombastic showings, but it was sufficient to demonstrate that yes, boy howdy can we hear them and yes, from here on out
I swear, this woman is not to be believed. She howls, yells, moans, throws things around, and so help me God — she narrates.
“… OH MY GOD I’M HITTING MY HEAD ON THE HEADBOARD AHH AHH AHH YOU’RE KNEELING ON MY HAIR OOH OOH OOH I’M COMING OH GOD OH GOD HARDER HARDER MORE MORE MORE YOU’RE GIVING IT TO ME GOOD AHM AHM AHM OHH OHH OHH MY NIPPLES ARE SO HARD AHH AHH AHH I’M SCRATCHING YOUR HAIRY LITTLE THIGH OOH OOH OOH I’M LYING ON A WET SPOT AAH AAH AAH MMM MMM MMM …”
It’s like living upstairs from a Phillip Roth audiobook. I mean, I’m glad you’re having a good time, sister, but it’s summer. People have their windows open, you know? Maybe muffle it just a tad.
Actually, last night we might have upset them. We were laughing at them so hard that they stopped; and they only started up again once we’d turned in for the night. Oh, I’ve laughed at them before by myself, but my scornful little cackle doesn’t quite have the carrying range that
But I’m not holding my breath. That’s Live-In Screamer’s job. “OH MY GOD YOU’RE CHOKING ME AND THAT’S SO HOT AAK AAK AAK …”
(original entry, with comments, here)