They Only Want You When Yer 17

I have mixed feelings about aging. This evening I took my BFF The Barnes to dinner because she recently celebrated a birthday while I had to work, so this was a belated celebration.

We went to Loulou in Fort Greene, BK. It’s a little French spot with really good bread and ambiance. My birthday follows hers at the end of this month and I am a little bummed about all of this aging business. Not because I consider getting older a negative thing – not at all. It’s a little more pathological than that…

Once I had this wicked dream that a bridesmaid was running down a long, gray hall. She was lifting her long fuschia skirt and frantically dashing as if she was being chased. She was.

Behind her was an army of vampire brides, staggering yet with lightening speed. They were hunting her, but as they ran after her it became clear that something else was hunting them.

An invisible presence permeated the tunnel like a faint fog that was more terrifying than the whole lot of them. They started to knock each other down, hissing as each tried to gain distance from the other. The bridesmaid eventually slows down to watch the massacre. As the sun comes up and streams through the cracks in the tunnel, the vampire brides turn into clay sculptures. The ones who are still alive shatter through the bride statues as they run, petrified veils and sleek cheekbones crushed beneath their heels.

Pretty soon all that is left is a trail of white dust and the bridesmaid, with an indescribable look on her face. Then everything goes black.

So yeah, clearly I am not ready for certain age appropriate events that generally happen around this block of time that I am now entering.

The End.