Vibrating Bed

It's me. Kwan.

It's 10 p.m. and I'm writing from the Paradise Motel, Unit 18. Vick knew where I was because I stole his American Express Card and rented this room last Monday night. The room is in back by the freeway. When trucks drive by it shakes the glass in the window.

I'm in the bathroom with the laptop. They have WiFi here which is hilarious because they don't have bathmats or soap.

Vick is sleeping on the vibrating bed. It's still vibrating. The machine is jammed so the bed hasn't stopped vibrating since Vick got here Tuesday night. It's great for lovemaking but I have to actually sleep on the floor. Vick likes sleeping on the jiggling bed. He says he grew up in earthquake country so it's nothing new for him.

He's going to force me to go to the Labor Day Family Barbecue on Monday. I told him we were through, but he said I was through for stealing his credit card and he would call the police. I'm running for Congress next year so I figured I'd play the good girl.

Vick said he would get me a job, in the meantime. He said one of his sisters at the Barbecue Monday would help me out.

I'm all alone in the world, and it's so hot outside, even at 10:20 p.m.

There goes another freight truck speeding by the bathroom window. Makes the glass chatter like teeth.

Is anyone out there?

Kwan

Bum Rap

Hey, it's Vick again!

Yeah, my mom shot off Irv's fingers last Thanksgiving. I was there. I baked the holiday squash. I molded the yams into the Traditional Pilgrim Face. And when that little "Meals On Wheels" Sugar Plum Girl tried to force her pumpkin ice cream pie on us, I dropped it on the floor to teach her a lesson. Nobody upstages Uncle Vick!

I don't know how my mom balanced herself in her walker and held up that shotgun at the same time. She was plucky!

Look, Irv. You happy now? We even got readers reading this adorable blog of yours. They care about your damn fingers! You want me to write down how you're really the one who killed my parents...and that little Shirley Temple social worker girl...huh?

I told you I'd get revenge at the Labor Day Family Barbecue next Monday. They got some new social worker comin'. And my younger brother. And my two aunts. They're all comin' and you'll be there, too. Eatin' Veggie Party Wienies. You have no choice. I've got the photos from last Thanksgiving. And I'll post em on this blog if I have to, and then who'll be sorry?

And now, Kwan is gone. I know where she is, too. I know she's reading this. I'm going to her place tonight after work. She'll be at the barbecue, too, whether she likes it or not. I'll see her tonight. Runnin' for Congress. Don't make me guffaw!

I'm a health care professional. I might eat and drink too much - and I might break a window or two at the mall with a hammer, but hey, 20 percent of America is obese, so what's the crime? My sideburns aren't cute like yours, Irv. I've got some gray, and I'm goin' bald. So what! Kwan likes it. I know she still likes me. You got me all wrong.

I'll prove it tonight!

Uncle Vick

Ghost Finger Phenomenon

Kwan's still gone. Uncle Vick is at work. I'm alone in his dead parents' house. It's hot enough to melt diamonds outside.

I'm feeling "ghost fingers" again. I know I'm missing the two middle fingers on my left hand. Uncle Vick's Mom blew them off with her twelve gauge shotgun last Thanksgiving. But sometimes, like today, I feel those two fingers aching, and I reach with my right hand to massage the tips, and....they are gone!

Creepy. I'm getting used to it, though. Without Kwan here with me to get high and watch the giant plasma wall TV, I'm feeling even more depressed.

Uncle Vick's mom should never have been allowed to own a gun. We had all been sitting around the holiday table, around a smoldering plate of sliced meat. She claimed she had shot the turkey herself, but the only wild turkeys around here are in liquor stores. We all knew that "meals-on-wheels" annoying girl had brought the meat. But, you didn't argue with Uncle Vick's mom. It's really her fault. All of it.

"Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader" is saved on the DVR. I'm debating if I should watch another episode, or if I should check Monster.com to see if I got any job responses, or maybe if I should shave a different geometric sideburn pattern into my "burns." I've got the sharpest "burns" and they go all the way down to my mouth. I've had women and men get turned on by them.

But now, I'm alone...and my missing fingertips itch, and Labor Day is only one week off. I figure if I can find the twelve gauge...

Irv

Cake at Zero to Sixty

Irv here.

Kwan left this morning before sunrise. Uncle Vick had baked her an anniversary cake the day before. I guess the first anniversary since they began fucking, since neither one of them loves the other. Uncle Vick just likes sweets so he probably baked it for himself.

I came down the stairs in my nightshirt when I heard Uncle Vick shout: "I'll just go online and find a new whore to diddle!" Classy, huh? Kwan shouted back, "Go ahead, and while you're at it go on Ebay and find a couple of midget stilts to hold your fat lard belly up when someone gets on their knees for you. It's like sucking off the collapsing Hindenburg!"

That's when I saw the anniversary cake shoot across the living room. Remarkably the blue-iced cake remained intact even after impact on the red and yellow stained glass panes of the front door.

Kwan is gone. Uncle Vick smoked four cigarettes, ate the cake, and went back to bed.

I've got to get a job and get out of here before the Labor Day Party. I'm running out of time!

Kwan at Midnight

This might be Irv's blog, but looks like me and Vick have taken it over.
I met Vick through his job. I called him at the "Complete Wrap" health insurance hotline to get a procedure approved for my ex-boyfriend. My ex-boyfriend had a urinary tract infection which Kaiser said had spread to his brain. "Wrap Care" said that "urinary brain infection" was not covered.

Vick was very consoling and invited me to call him any time day or night for a "friendly voice." No one would help my ex-boyfriend in the states, so I drove him to Tijuana for a treatment of garlic cloves and three unapproved synthetic triglycerides.

My boyfriend became my ex when he died in the back of a farmer's truck in Mexico. I called Vick on my cell and he invited me to come and live with him. I thought this was rather forward, but I agreed, since my ex-boyfriend had paid my rent previously and now I would be homeless.

Thank you, Vick. You're a pig to me now, but thank you for your support back then.
I'm moving out of your house tomorrow.
Kwan

Move Over - It's Uncle Vick!

Okay, look, my nutbrain nephew Irv started this blog 4 days ago. I know his password because it's the same for everything -- his online bank account, his storage unit gate code, his medical records online access at the insurance company where I work.

He was bla bla-ing about how depressed he was because the Labor Day Weekend Family Barbecue is coming up so I told him to start this friggin' blog. Hey, Schmo! You didn't have to say I was "pot-bellied." What are all those Internet Ladies going to think?

Oh Yah, and that I'm a killer! There's a romance-inducer! Dude, we all know what happened last Thanksgiving. Irv lost his fingers when he lost his mind and took out my parents and that little girl - what's her name - from the church. Little Goldilocks or whatever with the Meals-on-Wheels. May she rest in peace.

Hey, and Kwan, what the Frig are you thinkin' when you write on this thing that you're going to "use" me to get elected?? Boat People?? You came over on a yacht with a swimming pool! You better just delete this blog before you announce your "candidacy."

Hey, you two forget that I support both of you! Huh! I don't see any paychecks comin' from either one of you. Psychopath?? Dudes, it's this government that's gone psycho. Capitalism is evolving into "Screw-You-All-Ism." How Psycho is that?

I'm just a regular guy that tells people off, and sometimes is too close to multiple murders.

Hey, my parents are dead! Ever think of that? You know how close I was to my mom. She taught me to bake.

"Meat Cleaver"? It's called a "German Baking Knife."

We have to have a talk before Labor Day...

Kwan

Yeah, it's me, Kwan. Vick gave me the password to this thing. His nephew, Irv, started it.

I don't know how Vick got the password. It's true, I guess. Vick is a psychopath. I've told him so to his face, so if he reads this -- fine.

Look, I'm no stranger to troubles. I came over here from Vietnam on a refugee boat 20 years ago. You think that was easy?? We were one of the boats that got through. We didn't sink. We took on water, okay, but we didn't sink.

Now, I'm running for Congress. I haven't told anybody yet. But I'm going to run. You know why? Because I've got ambition. My family and all my ex-lovers - none of them had ambition. Sure, the stereotype is that Vietnamese people who come to America are hard workers. Not my family! Just me! I'm the one!

I sleep with Vick because he pleasures me. I know he doesn't love me. Love doesn't exist, really. Just addiction to adrenaline. Vick gives me my adrenaline rush.

I'll use him to get elected. He knows people. Some very big people in politics have chronic health conditions that they get treated with "Complete Wrap Care." Vick has spoken with them. He's gotten to know them.

I know what I'm doing and I've got plans.

Irv just pulled up in the driveway. Why is he back so early, I wonder?

Monday Blues

Uncle Vick went to work today. He's a customer care executive for "Complete Wrap" Health Insurance. He manages a phone bank of "customer care professionals" at an office in a grimy yellow strip mall. They don't know about the murders last Holiday season. No one does, but Me, Kwan,and Uncle Vick.

When he drove off this morning in his KIA, cigarette smoke billowing out his open driver's window, Kwan started bawling.

We both stood on the porch. "He's a psycho," she said. Her black hair covered her face and she was stooped over like she had a cramp.

I put my arm around her shoulders. "We just have to get past the Labor Day Barbecue Party. It's only two more weeks."

"I can't do it," Kwan said, in almost a shout. She stood up straight and threw my arm off of her shoulders. "Pretending to care what other people are doing. Not getting drunk. Getting gas from macaroni. I can't do it!"

The neighbor's pit bull was barking again.

"You've got to," I said. I was feeling the little stumps where my two middle left fingers had been. It was already past lunchtime and we weren't even showered. "It's our last chance."

Kwan had stopped crying. She never cried long. "Are you going to write that in your I Love Cats blog?" She didn't smile. "What if we don't make it till Labor Day?"

I'm Missing Two Fingers

Uncle Vick and I are hanging out at his house. His girlfriend, Kwan, is here with us. They just finished the loudest love-making I have ever heard. They scared the birds off the power lines outside and made the neighbors dog bark for forty minutes.

Kwan says blogs are just a bunch of people writing about their favorite TV shows, and making lists of the "100 things that drive them crazy" and dumbshit self-absorbed crap like that. I think she's bitter because Uncle Vick doesn't love her anymore.

"How can you type without your two left fingers?" she just asked.

I'm grinning back at her. "Same way you can let Vick fuck you without his loving you."

"He's a murderer," she's saying.

And we are both just watching each other now. I guess, wondering why we're both at this house on a hot summer Sunday with the man out in the living room.

The Barbecue

Uncle Vick killed 3 people during the holidays.

Uncle Vick got me to start this blog.

Uncle Vick always needs a shave and he's got what my parents call a "pot-belly." He told me since I was depressed, I should start a blog because it would help to get out my feelings.

I stared at him a long time - because Uncle Vick's way of "getting out feelings" involves a meat-cleaver. But, as they say, there is good in everyone. I was tired of screaming in the car when I was upset, so I took Uncle Vick up on his suggestion.

We have a family Labor Day Barbecue coming up. I'm dreading it...