Not so clockwork

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  • Publié le : 3 octobre 2010
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:Not so Clockwork
The nurse had her name written in a tab. “Selene”. Anyone that could wrestle with the Western hieroglyphics could easily work out the name of that nurse. And as a very good friend of mine used to say, a name encloses the self. Yes, my reader, even if Shakespearian dramaturges argue that the name is anything but important. They are ignorant and I am nothing but the holder oftruth. She was young; we could say if we, as an audience, could agree upon what youth is. Well, let us just simply say that she had seen few winters. Her body maladroitly stood on a stool, where she browsed for medical charts. She had her hair rolled up in a tight bun, and no make-up blemished the immaculate doll face. She, as many others, had gained her position because of her looks. The man thatemployed her only gazed at the becoming sweater seizing her curves and he, overcoming himself, gave her the job immediately. Let us just say that the man wanted to revolutionize the concept of Carpe Diem into something more like Carpe Corpus. Yes reader, desire is a governable, institutionalized concept in our so called modern world. Back to subject, our Selene would not be surprised if she caughtwith the corner of her eye the sight of the petty, bald man trying to gain a glimpse beneath the uniform. It happened, as most things do. Naturally and unstoppably.
The case is, my dear reader, that our friend Selene was looking for a chart to fill in. A new patient was to enter the institution that day and she was in charge of note him down. Every time a new patient came in, Selene’s backbattered with strange, bizarre, outlandish feelings. She was not there to actually see any patients or to ask questions, no, she was not. As we have stated she was there to give the place a more…Sensual atmosphere. Sensuality is, indeed, a powerful weapon and a sudden charmer. She had no idea of what was done in that place, and she honestly did not want to find out. Her purpose was not to question butto serve. As a friend of mine would say, take the bottle, drink it down, pass it around. That would mean that no one should take the bloody opportunity at stake and, finally, pass it on to another and reproduce the ignorance. Nevertheless, Selene itched with intrigue. But we forget that we are set here so as our little, pecaminous minds do not wonder around- it might be dangerous.
Well, but weare not retelling the danger of the free mind, we are just exploring and recounting Selene’s experience. Indeed. Well, after she got down the stool that maladroitly stood on the mauve floor, Selene did not have anything to do but wait. As we, once again, have stated, Selene’s position was granted because of her looks. Nobody really thought that something could make sense inside her blonde head.She waited and murdered time; gazing at the silent clock that went by, inch by inch, step by step, mile by mile.
Finally, time wondered why it was being crippled by the steady eye of a meaty nurse, and some cricking and cracking was heard in the hallway. Two enormous men (yes, positions there were gained because of looks, if your intellect, reader, has not figured that out) came dragginganother man and there they stood, the three. This man we are talking about was in his twenties, a little less perhaps. Deep eyes and sore look, dressed in white, his hair very short and his lips curving in a smile. Quite a bizarre smile. Not as ours, reader, no. Something was different. This man would not smile as you or I do, setting our lips together, pressing them into what we understand as afriendly gesture. No, reader, no. He smiled not for the people outside his mind, but for himself. Like a crazy man, taking a bottle, drinking it down, passing it around. As a friend of mine would say.
“But, very good evening, my dorogoy devotchka, here I stand to be cured!” the man said looking at Selene. “But what a nice gorlo, my dear!”
Selene was struck in amazement, battling between disgust and...
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