The Frozen Man

country music torture

“this is your voice.” it says.

my mind rattles and
  my eyes shift this
  way and that in the
  kind of way that cartoon
  characters do when trying
  to demonstrate to very small
  children that danger (albeit the
  safe kind) is close at hand.

but this is my voice. the one
  that i’m using right now to
  speak and i know what i
  sound like and it’s not you.

“fine.” it says with a long drawn
out sigh. “this is your other
voice.”

well now, why didn’t you
just say so.

a long pause ensues and
  i wonder if i’ve done gone
  and pissed off my other
  voice.
he doesn’t like to be mocked
  and frankly, i don’t quite
  like it when he’s angry with
  me cause then he starts
  singing old country songs
  and it drives me insane.

sorry. what’s up?

“you have to remember to
  pick up toilet paper on
  the way home today.” he
  answers finally, his voice
  slow, his words deliberate.

that’s when i know he’s a
  little upset with me… either
  that or he’s trying to tell
  me something and he
  feels that if he doesn’t
  speak slowly i won’t
  understand.
i hate it when he does
  that.

i know that i have to
  pick up toilet paper.

“well you forgot last
night, didn’t you?”

he’s starting with me
now, trying to prove
that he’s smarter.

well, that was last night.

“maybe so, but the
fact is-”

i know. it was a mess
  and i learned my
  lesson. now will you
  just shut the fuck up
  and leave me alone.
  i’ll pick up the damn
  toilet paper and that’ll
  be that, ok.

silence.

very long silence.
  the kind that is
  most uncomfortable…
  more so than a
  rash on the butt.

sigh.

i’m sorry… i know you’re
just looking out fo-

“crazy, i’m crazy for
feeling so lonely.” he
begins to sings.

no please don’t.

“i’m crazy, crazy for
feeling so blue.”

please, not patsy.

“i knew you’d love me
as long as you wanted.”

sigh.

“and then someday
you’d leave me for
somebody new.”

you know i hate this song.

“i know.”