Mario Milosevic » perils series

The Perils of a Mythical Existence

mm — Fri, 18 Apr 2008 13:44:19 +0000

Sure I was lucky. I knew it. I’d won the genetic lottery. I had a pair of working wings growing out of my shouler blades. I kept them folded up under my shirt so no one knew. It was a delicious secret. I never showed anyone my wings. I used to fly around at night. Just me, the bats, warm air, and glorious updrafts. Those were the best times. I don’t fly much anymore. The wings hurt. I’m afraid of doctors. What they’d do to me if they ever saw the wings. So I keep them folded up and trembling.

The Perils of a Cleansed Existence

mm — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 14:35:00 +0000

Five times a day, sometimes more, I showered: before breakfast, after breakfast, midday, early evening, and just before bed. Also, baths, twice a day: after lunch and during the evening meal. I washed my hands at least hourly. I bought soap only when it was heavily discounted. All this disowning of dirt contributed to my immaculate well being. I was constantly fresh and ready to face my troubles. Insects and dogs avoided me. I was so clean they did not recognize me as part of their world. People regarded me with awe. I acknowledged their understandable adoration. I positively glowed.

The Perils of a Fortunate Existence

mm — Fri, 29 Feb 2008 14:33:00 +0000

I won the lottery. Two dollars. A one hundred percent return on my investment. I was flush with smugness and contentment. Until my relatives found out. Then I had no peace: Can you lend me a dime? Just until payday? Please? I spent hours prioritizing requests for help. And that was before my interview on channel two. Then it got even worse: My son needs more lunch money. My husband can’t buy the newpaper today. How could I choose? I couldn’t. I developed hives. I took my winnings and went into seclusion. Me and my dollar are very happy now.

The Perils of a Covert Existence

mm — Sun, 24 Feb 2008 17:06:00 +0000

We were a close knit group in those days, spending our working hours several floors underground. We knew close to a hundred languages between us, which allowed us to translate any document that came our way during the conflict. That is, until our commander brought us an intercepted missive and told us it was top priority, very important to the war effort. We took the document and leafed through it eagerly, only too ready to help our comrades in arms. Every page was completely blank. We were dumbfounded and frightened. We looked up, opened our mouths, but could not speak.

The Perils of a Nocturnal Existence

mm — Thu, 21 Feb 2008 03:37:00 +0000

The eclipse stained the moon copper, then the color dripped from the moon’s face like water streaming over a stone in a river. We watched as velvet folds of red light draped the sky then slowly descended over us and seeped into our mouths, noses, and ears. A brief panic ensued. But soon we accepted the comfort of invading moonlight. We lifted our heads, smiles on our faces. The eclipse was over, but, inexplicably, the moon was now gone. Tidal upheavals grabbed at our ankles. We lifted our legs. We stepped as slowly and as carefully as was humanly possible.

The Perils of a Cardboard Existence

mm — Mon, 04 Feb 2008 17:02:00 +0000

The guy who created me did no back story on me. Not his fault. The deadline was tight, and the project was work for hire: a quick movie novelization. He had every reason to devote less time and energy to my particulars than he would normally have done. Only thing is, he didn’t give me any memories. None. So I need to find him and ask him to supply me with a few. Just something to keep me moored to reality. If you see him, tell him I’m pretty desperate. You’ll do that for me, won’t you? Won’t you please?