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The Ballad of Sugar Diablo

Wake up. Strangled in bra. How is this thing on backwards?

Bust out of bed. Bathroom, sink, splash face. Feed fish. Feed cat. Remember not to water cactus.

Dim sunlight through the kitchen nook window. Must remember to windex windows. Frozen waffle.

Shuddap phone!

Clothes. Shoes. Crazy hair. Crazy hair is fine. No one cares. Screw makeup.

Jacket. Shoulder bag. Out the door. Down the stairs. Almost to the front door escape portal.

Hey Sugar, what’s cooking?”

Dr. Tomorrow. Same perfect hair. Same blinding white teeth and matching perfect white t-shirt. What is up with those black goggles? Doesn’t he have a job or something? Prepare to launch Morning Face Attack.

Dr. Tomorrow steps aside quickly, “Woah!” and gets sing-song, “if looks could kill, they probably will…” He’s bopping to his own rhythm. Out the door. Behind her she can still hear Doc going on, “Games without frontiers, war without tears, Jeux sans frontières!”

Hustle down the street. Why didn’t I bring my earbuds? Traffic rolls by with the farting of exhaust, creaking of internal combustion engines fighting the morning, weak sun glancing off anything shiny stabbing the eyes. Feet stomping the pavement.

Shadowy Figure, figures, seems to somehow materialize directly in Sugar Diablo’s path.

“Are you ready to join us, Sugar Diablo? The Legion of All The Dooms awaits…”

Same long black coat, same slouch hat that somehow always hides the identity and even the gender of this Shadowy Figure. Pushy fuck. Stop for one second. Angry Morning Face Attack! Spit on ground. Power on by.

Shouted after her. “We can help you release your hate! You’ll like it!”

Involuntary fist clench. Eyes narrow. hsss…. I’ll show you what I’d like…

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Finally, library. Job. Boss Monster. Ugly green over-sized sweater. Big teeth. Glasses on chain around neck. Hair piled high, formerly grown on Planet WTF. “Sugar Diablo, you’re ten minutes late!”

Through gritted teeth. “No, I’m twenty-three hours early for tomorrow.” Mumbled under breath, “bitch.”

The struggle with the Universe has just begun.

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