GRINCHY BITCH

                                v. Dube'

Sarah’s friend, Grinchy, had just fallen in love. She had told Sarah the whole story one morning at the whorehouse, the day after New Year’s Eve. Grinchy wore her red hat with the poof on top and tight beige corduroy pants with a nice white sweater her father had bought her for Christmas. Grinchy had bought and wrapped gifts this year. She HAD been a total humbug about the holidays and had even called herself a “Grinch”. The year before she had said the same thing about the holidays too. “I’m over Christmas! I want to be on a beach in Mexico on Christmas Day.”  She’d get an angry look in her big green eyes when she said it that looked very convincing, but deep down inside, Grinchy just wanted the love of a mother, and until she could come to admit that she would never have that, she’d always find someway to be a grinch. 

            So she had told Sarah her feelings about the new man she had met New Years Eve. His name was Taylor, older than Grinchy, 27, her being 22. She said they had hooked elbows to go to the grocery store together and she felt her heart drop.  She was shaking when she spoke of cupid’s possession:

            “I know I have a lot of boys in my life and I know I’m crazy, but this is something like I’ve never felt before. Yeah I loved Jorin and Ben but this, I felt like I was orgasming from my head to my toes, I felt like he was completely inside of me. We just melted into one another, I feel insane…He has to break up with his girlfriend though.”

            Sarah had listened attentively to her, feeling like she was getting to counsel someone after all. She enjoyed listening to her a lot.

            Sarah eventually headed down to the main floor to make money after Grinch had asked to borrow her phone.

            “Just put it in my locker when you’re done, I’ll leave it open.”

            Sarah trusted Grinch, Grinch had all that was goin’ on in her mind make her moves for her, what was inside Sarah’s locker held no notion of nothin’ to Grinch’s train of thoughts.

            Sarah went down to the main floor and made over 500 in about four hours.  Grinch had never come down to work, she had felt too insane.

***

It had been one of those rough couple of days for Sarah. Her first mistake was drinking five martinis one Friday evening. Funny how a person can know as clear as day what’s really bad for them, and they still do it. There must be this other part of us that is our complete enemy. It’s kind of like having our own worst enemy inside of us. Perhaps that’s where the cliché comes from, “We’re our own worst enemy.”  The drunken night had come and gone, and Sarah was left with feelings of guilt as usual. Guilty for this, guilty for that, you little sinner you…. Sarah felt guilty for a lot of things.

It was like she needed to feel guilty about something to feel alive. She dug through the depths of her childhood memories sometimes, and tried to figure out exactly where this lust for guilt came from, with no avail, of course.

            The day after her martini affair was a sullen one. She hadn’t gotten out of the house until 3, and this time it wasn’t because she hadn’t wanted to, it was because she had a hard time doing anything but staying in bed reading or writing in her journal.  She eventually arose and was motivated only by her love of observing psychologically fucked up people. She was off to see Grinchy, one of her “friends” from the whorehouse on Bourbon Street.  Grinchy wasn’t her real name, but Sarah found it quite fitting.

Soon after Sarah arrived at Grinchys, Grinchy mentioned that her father wanted her to come visit him in Metarie for dinner. Sarah realized she’d be acting as a free cab again for Grinchy. Sarah couldn’t help but think that’s why Grinchy wanted Sarah over in the first place. To save Grinchy some money on cab fare. Grinchy was a beautiful girl, not supermodel material, but not too bad at all for Louisiana women.  She was covered in tattoos, attractive to some, yes, but for some reason, to Sarah, the tattoos seemed as if they symbolized a kind of self punishment for Grinchy. Of course, Grinchy would never agree.  To Sarah, the tattoos were a bit much for Grinchy’s soft young skin. 

Sarah and Grinchy got a bite to eat at Angeli’s, a unique little bohemian restaurant for local freaks mainly. They ate hummus and Caesar salad with lots of coffee and water.

            Before their sumptuous meal Grinchy had gotten in the first of her “expected daily mean remarks” when Sarah was too “wimpy” to parallel park in a space smaller than her car.  Sarah attempted the impossible task just to prove a point to Grinchy.  When she couldn’t go any further, she just sat there, stopping traffic and asked Grinchy in a masked facicious manner, “Do you think I can make it?” Of course, Sarah had made her point, but as usual, Grinchy didn’t like admitting she was wrong, nevertheless mean.

 Grinchy’s mean ways had developed from a childhood of physical beatings from her mother.  A sad story, but Sarah couldn’t help but think she and all the other people Grinchy was mean to had nothing to do with Grinchy’s abuse. Grinchy probably didn’t understand this, or didn’t care. It was possible, Sarah thought, that Grinchy had taken on the evil of her mother, and there was little hope for her, except for deep down inside an endless pit of Jamison. 

            So, Sarah let her anger hide from Grinchy’s comment about her wimpy driving ways, and she enjoyed her hummus. Then it was off to Metarie in Sarah’s free cab. Sarah stopped in to say hi to Grinchy’s dad before she headed off to pick up her boyfriend.  Grinchy’s dad had invited Sarah to dinner, but she had to turn it down because she had already been late picking up her boyfriend.

            So she went and got the little lad and they returned to her little abode. They had sex? She couldn’t remember anymore. It used to be a big deal. Oh yes, they had had sex, and they both had not orgasmed. Troubles in paradise. Sarah loved cliché’s and how they applied perfectly to so many things in life.

            So that day came and went, forever in it’s cozy past. Eventually Sarah had to return to the whorehouse, and she did so blindly, hurriedly, as if doing it this way would make it easier. Psychology was behind everything for her.  She had already felt down and out from martini night. Alcohol stays in the blood like syrup for 48 hours; like a “depression wash” in the blood. 

Her first day back to the whorehouse, she got in a fight with Grinchy. This was no surprise, and on top of that, a man that looked like Osama bin Laden’s grandfather attacked her. There was no one around to help, so she had used her powerful legs to take a stance, even in her heels, and push him as hard as she could away from her, twisting cleverly from his grip.

She wondered how much more memorable the experience would have been if she would of smoked her usual daily bud. She hadn’t though, and surprisingly enough, the experience had been trippy enough.  This was yet another reason for Sarah to cry and pity her life; she had been assaulted and Grinchy had been mean to her again, boo hoo for Sarah, it’s the end of the world.