Tag Archives: an antifable about love

The Insult

“You tormented raccoon!” she said, floating off the kitchen floor.

“You rabid cockroach,” he responded, floating like a helium ballon to the ceiling light. He hung there in midair.

“Demonic feline,” she said rising and circling him.

“Diseased bat,” he called coming face-to-face to her by means of a soft arm flap.

Hovering together in the kitchen, they took hands and free fell giggling, in formation, to the floor. They bounced softly off the tile, and then tilting, they helicoptered into the front room.

They separated. She wafted over the table lamp and tossed off, “You psychopathic possum!”

From near the ceiling he chortled back, “Demented camel!”

She rose in the air to meet him, and eye-to-eye,  in the cathedral vault they tickled each other, laughed hilariously, took each others hands again and tumbled softly from this great height onto the couch. Leaning back on the cushions, they moved closer together and watched some TV — with caramel popcorn, dark chocolate, lime bars, chai tea, warm blankets and fluffy cats on their laps and all around.

She reached over and ate some of the popcorn out of his bowl.

“Beastly beast!” he muttered.

“You wingless termite,” she reparteed.

“Thou field,” he turned to her, “thou stone, thou clod, thou summer dust thou!”

They both laughed. She touched his cheek, and then pulling up the blanket that covered their legs they settled in for the next show.


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Once, in the wooing season, a wise and beautiful girl fell in love with a handsome and foolish young man.

She pursued him; he pursued games. She asked if he would cavort with her and also sort with her, but all he wanted was sport, port, and snort, with toys, noise, and other fun boys.

“Let’s go out,” she said, “for coffee and talk.”

“Talk, squawk, ” he said. “Come gaming with me!”

“And there you have it,” she said to herself. “What does one do with silly boys who don’t know how to talk, feel, reel or deal, with life and wife and every emotion twice and thrice — or not.”

And then, with a pained heart, she consigned him to disobedience.

“What the hell is that?” He asked her. “What did you ever give to me that you could make rules about or take anything away from me? Who do you think you are, my mother?”

“I’m your brother!” she said.

“Your weird,” he said, “for a pretty girl.”

“I’ve given you everything,” she replied, “but you have given me nothing that you should expect anything in return.”

He quit calling her.

“Consigned,” she said.

“An odd girl,” he told his friends.

Then, over the next year, he got seriously bossed, crossed, lost and tossed. He called her.

“What have you got for me?” She asked over the phone.

“I’ve got nothin’,” he said and there was a long silence.

“Come see me,” she said. “Let’s talk.”

“What can come from nothing?” He asked.

“Actually,” she said, “Something, something can come of nothing.”

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