|||||Radiohead - Fake Plastic Trees||]|
“Can you get rid of those, please?”
Dr. Davis looked confused. “What?”
“The flowers. Can you hide them or something?”
He took them off of his desk. Then he took out a legal pad and pen. “Why do they bother you so much, Famina?”
I knew everything I said would be written down for his report. No way in Hell would I tell him they talked to me. “Fake flowers are ugly.” That was the truth. They were nasty little bitches. Real plants were sweet, and caring, but the silk ones were disgusting.
“Some people think they are beautiful.”
“Well those people have no sense of beauty.”
“What is beauty, Famina?”
Beauty is seeing everything as an object, not a personality. “A Sunset.” I replied.
“I see. And?”
Nobody in this place. I can see through you all. “Waves on a beach.”
“Famina. I asked what you thought beauty was. Not what you should think beauty is.”
Well that’s too bad, old man. What I think is not for you to know. “I told you what it was.”
“We can’t get anywhere if you’re not truthful. You don’t want to be here your whole life, do you?”
No, I don’t. Which is why I’m not telling you I talk to plants, or days of the week, or paintings. “No, Sir.”
“Well. I’ll See You Friday, then.”
“Yes, Sir.” Dumbass.
--- --- ---
“Why?” I asked the poppies. He didn’t forget. He stopped caring. You knew he’d stop caring. “SHUT UP!” I threw a book at the vase, causing it to fall and shatter. I heard a knock at my door. “Yeah? Oh hi Craig. Sup?”
“Do you have anything good to read? I’ll trade you.” He held up a tattered book, of which I couldn’t see the title.
“Oh. Yeah. Here…” I handed him a few different books. “Enjoy.”