A Study in Cow Pelt and Citrus

Inanimate Smutt

Eddy Cruise,
CP

You’re just too juicy.

You sit there on the varnished wood of the table, glinting in the sunlight that creeps through the expansive glass windows behind you. Without eyes, your whole body- half of a lumpy sphere- stares me down. Each visible golf ball dimple on your tight orange covering gently flicks the little hairs all up and down one side of my flappy little body. I want to turn you over and see the real meat of you. Your succulent insides will be revealed to me, ready for their debut since being sliced into existence.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, my large clementine.

I start by peeling that small indigo oval by which you are identified, the closest thing to a human nipple on your body. Oh, how the adhesive hissed as I toyed it off of you, like playing with a thin scab you know you shouldn’t pick. You look right back at me, and don’t worry- I know the look. I see that you want to get to the real matter at hand, don’t you? Be careful what you wish for. I start at one point on your circumference, the one you showed me last November during a quiet rainstorm we spent indoors and said, “This is my sex-chilles heel.” Now I pull your tight skin away from you, making a small tear in your golf ball dimples. Oops. Now, I feel the way you quiver as my prong exposes your juicy flesh to the hardware store-bathroom musk of Worcester Dining Commons, as I mosey on up to the peak of your moundish body. Oh, how enticing. Maybe I should peel slower. That much slower? Of course. I want you to suffer in this moment, you nasty little citrus.

But I want to suffer with you, so I recede, signaling your turn as my God. I don’t expect it, but you start at the top, undoing your skin from the point of your skin’s severance to your northern pole. Now, by the leverage of the square metal frame of my head, you are undone. I am utterly powerless before you, o forsaken deity. I know what’s next. You couldn’t resist, could you? At once, the smooth and felty sides of my body are thrust between the one side of your slice, now on the other. By removing your part from your whole, I am now obsolete. You are ready for consumption.


For more articles by Eddy Cruise, click here. To establish contact, email cruise.eddy@surrealtimes.net.

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