Sunday, January 15, 2012

Random Sequence: Anesthetized Dairymaid

[random phrases worked into a story]

Sara, who was beginning to feel that dipsomaniac gloaming again, downed another glass of white wine as if it was water. She was too depressed -- about her 30th birthday, the breakup with Chad, and other unavoidable disasters -- even to bother changing the battery in her ceiling smoke detector, which issued a hallucinatory bleep every minute or so.

She staggered from the kitchen to the living room with woebegone ungainliness, then switched on the radio. It was a free-form station, and some adenoidal windbag was announcing that he was about to play a bit of dissonance entitled "Anesthetized Dairymaid", or something that sounded very much like that. She hated the song, but it had a beat that created a weirdly compelling syncopation when combined with the smoke detector's bleeping. Sara kicked off her flip-flops and began to dance around her faux Persian carpet. "Cut a rug, cut a rug," she whispered, then began to giggle.

She bumped into a chair and fell flat on her back. The radio was within reach, and she switched it off without getting up. She closed her eyes and soon drifted off into a deep slumber, in which she dreamed about a garbage truck backing up over Chad's supine body.

[not to be continued]

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