Saturday, 10 June 2017

Hemingway's B & B

Twilight approaches, in its company a weary
spirit seeks a tear drops worth of welcomed
solace. Hands no longer able to navigate this
steering with wheel minimal visibility. I investigate
the unworthy surreptitious road to find the bed
and breakfast that holds my current reservation.

Finally, a driveway, delightful slumber only a
few kilometers in distance. What a wondrous sign
to greet me, WELCOME TO THE HEMINGWAY!
Immensely grateful to have finally arrived, not
allowing myself to take notice of my surroundings
only focused on my glorious king size bed with
a walk-in en-suite jacuzzi tub to wash away this

sense of darkness, trapped inside my own personal
oubliette. The key given to me at the front desk,
nearly breaks in the hole. I can’t believe it! For
$200.00 per night one would expect a key that
works. Clumsily searching for a light, my hands
feel the uninvited texture of dust bunnies that
coat the grooves of my finger tips. Disgusted!

I recoil my hand until I grow enough courage
to try again. Once illuminated my vision adjusts
to finally take note of my glorious suite. Oh my
great Goddess! What the hell is that? I approached
with my fire engine red stilettos still adorned
on my feet to find this tacky sea-foam green
and indigo paisley wallpaper slowly moving.

Unless the Tylenol ones I’d taken earlier to
alleviate my migraine suddenly turned into a
hallucinogenic? There, a dog eared piece
of wallpaper begging to be torn & a healthy
dose of dust & grime on the dark chocolate
brown Berber carpet. My poor shoes, I'd
just purchased them not a day ago & now

they have a fresh blanket of god knows what
happened to this suite's neglected floor. Racing
back to my overnight bag, I found my large
barreled curling iron it was all that I could quickly
grab to ensure that I did not commit to touching
the questionable wallpaper with my bare fingertips.

COCKROACHES!!!! HOLY FUCK!!!

Pleasantly consuming the glue that
once adhered this tacky patterned fabric.
Without a second thought, the stilettos
came flying off, the wallpaper once again
flat against the wall. I could hardly resist,
slice, crunch, crack poor little impaled
cockroaches find their doom as I go to

the real Hemingway to finally relish the
large, fluffy, warm bubbles I've so richly
earned!