Deep Thoughts from Empty Shell


“How many, Eye?” I asked again. “How many of the ELgiN StreEt iRReguLars are doppelgängers?”

The Eye frowned and looked at the pickle jar. I thought I might be able to slip that one in with the last one, but I was mistaken. I put in a dime. I was getting dangerously low on dimes.

“So, how many?” I said.

“Most of them. A couple are clones, one is a changeling, and one is actually an evil twin. That’s how they got to be so self-referential. No actual human being could possibly keep it up.”

‘Changeling,’ I wrote.

“Woodsy is a doppelgänger, of course,” the Eye said. “The one on Elgin Street I mean. And you know about Aggie.”

“Would I be able to tell?”

“No. Fox wouldn’t either. He just thinks he would.

“But I would,” the Eye added.

“How are Elf and Aggie doing?” I asked, hoping Eye would take it as a pleasantry and not a question. I only had one more dime.

“Oh, fine. They like to have barbecues and invite the neighbours. In the evening they watch TV. Very dull if you ask me.”

‘Barbecues and TV,’ I wrote in my book.

“The only one who is actually himself is that little dwarf. The evil fourth one.” The Eye started spinning and blinking when he mentioned Fourth Dwarf.

‘4th Dwarf real dwarf,’ I wrote. It was all so shocking that I didn’t even have time to be shocked. I was going to have to spend a good long time reading over my notes and being properly shocked later on. I thought I’d do that when I was on my way to find Shelly.

It was time to ask. I put my last dime in the pickle jar.

“Where is Shelly, my one true love?” I asked. My voice was trembling. “What can I do to win her back?”

“That rotten little dwarf,” the Eye muttered. He was spinning faster. I wasn’t sure if he heard my question at all. “Should be in the hoosegow,” he grumbled, spinning harder and zooming in and out.

‘Hoosegow,’ I wrote. “What about Shelly?” I asked. 

“Shelly!” the Eye yelled, spinning like crazy. “Empty Shell? That little airhead? Forget about her!”

“But I Iove her!” I cried.

“Nonsense!” Eye shrieked. “You love her little pussy cat. You love her frilly panties. She’s vacant! Hollow! Absent! Truly empty! Nobody home! Forget about her!”

‘Forget about her,’ I wrote.

I didn’t know what to say. Now that the Eye pointed it out, I could see that he was right. All of a sudden I felt a lot more peaceful. The Eye, however, was spinning so fast I thought he might break apart into a million eyelets.

I tried to make some normal conversation to chill him out. I was out of dimes anyway. “Did you hear that Shania Twain and Mutt Lange broke up?” I said. “The Fourth Dwarf says he’s going after her. He wants to put his boots under her bed.”

Maybe it was a mistake to mention the Fourth Dwarf.

“Not my Shania!” the Eye screamed. “He better not touch her! That little dwarf better keep his smelly dwarf mitts off my Shania or there’s going to be trouble!”

His voice went so high he sounded like a big wasp or a small chain saw, and with that he took off, ricocheting from peak to peak, heading west at a fantastic clip. I don’t know if he was on his way to get Shania and put his boots under her bed — not that he has any boots, being an eye and all — or to toss the dwarf in the hoosegow. Probably both.

I was a little tired from running across Europe and half of Asia, so I climbed up on the platform and took a long nap. Later I changed the sign. I raised the rates a bit.

SHERPA JOE is IN
Personal trainer
Yoga instructor
12¢ an hour
Exact change please

 

It’s peaceful here, and I have a fantastic view of the whole world. I grew a beard and it came in white. I’m sure somebody will come along pretty soon. Somebody that wants some yoga lessons.

I hope they have plenty of change. Especially dimes and pennies.

I got an early start in the morning. There was still one more piece of the puzzle I had to find. Where was the Autonomous Eye, that weird little twirly guy?

He could definatly be a pain in the butt, always spinning around and zooming in and out and mouthing off about everything, and chasing after the Fourth Dwarf, who everyone except the Eye knows is really [Redacted], but I felt responsible for him just the same. Just like I did for all the BSIs.

Besides, I thought he might know something. He might know something about Shelly — Married! Married, damn it! — something that might help me to win her back.

Weird as he is, the Eye knows a lot. He doesn’t miss much.

Foxy came down part of the way with me. As soon as he left that mountaintop meadow he went back to walking on all fours. And he quit talking like Yoda. We stopped about ten times for beers at little wayside inns they have there in the Alps. It was a lot of fun.

True to my vow, I didn’t have any Schnapps.

I kept meaning to ask Fox about Woodsy, but I never got a chance. Foxy had fallen for dames before, but never for a human dame. Not that Woodsy was exactly human. I had a lot of questions, but Foxy just wanted to sing drinking songs and flirt with the waitresses in their little dirndls. Just like he always wanted to do.

Then he said he had to go and kick the shit out of some coyotes in the Black Forest, so we parted ways and I headed east. Fox said he thought the Autonomous Eye went east, and that was good enough for me.

I knew where the Eye would be. He’d have to be the highest eye. The top eye. The eye in the sky. I headed overland for Mount Everest.

Mount Everest, Nepal! That’s where he’d be.

I woke up with a dog licking me. That was typical of life in an alley down by the docks in Geneva. It was just like Third Elf’s life out back of Sugar Mountain, all candy and booze and kitty litter. I shoved the dog away and rolled over to try and get some more sleep.

I’d been trying to keep up with my yoga, but the booze got in the way. My health was beginning to suffer.

But… if you were living in an alley in Geneva, waiting for a blog post that might never come, from the best friend you ever had in the whole world, wishing Shelly — Shelly! Married! — had been able to have a little faith, to see you more clear, to look past your toned, tanned, muscular facade into the real truth in the heart of a man such as the kind of man you truly in your heart know yourself to be, well… you’d be socking back a few too.

They drink Schnapps over here in Switzerland. Some kind of pepperminty Euro swill. It does the job.

The dog was back. I shoved it away again. I was thinking about dames. Those Swiss dames, man, they’re something else, all blonde hair and sexy little dirndls. They look like something off a cuckoo clock.

But they wouldn’t come home with me. Said I lived in an alley. Which I did.

I just didn’t get what Foxy was up to. What was all that crap about black cats and weepy eyeballs? What was he trying to tell me? Why wouldn’t he get back to me? 

I was afraid he’d lost his mind. He never had that much mind to begin with. Salt of the earth, that Fox, but no intellectual.

The dog bit me in the ear. I rolled over to punch him. It was Fox. He had a couple of coffees and a bag of pastries.

“Foxy!” I yelled, but he shushed me. He didn’t seem to want to talk, but his tail was wagging like a puppy’s and he couldn’t stop bouncing and grinning. Me neither. 

We drank the coffees and ate the pastries, and then I packed up my climbing gear and fed the cats and before I knew it I was following Fox high up into the Swiss Alps, loping along easy in the bright spring air, through mountain meadows like emeralds bursting with wildflowers, higher and higher, Fox in his element in the wild and me, Sherpa Joe, me in my element too, dammit!

No more Schnapps for me. I swore it. I swore it out loud.

After five hours of hard climbing we arrived at the most beautiful meadow of them all. It was shrouded in mist, but when the mist lifted it was as if you could see for a million miles, all the way to Swaziland I bet.

“Sherpa Joe,” Fox said. There was mist swirling all around him, and it was glowing a faint golden colour, like amber or a cat’s eyes. I couldn’t help noticing that he was walking upright. How did that happen? He was taller, and he seemed to be wearing clothes. Some kind of robes.

“Allow me to present my beloved,” Fox said. “My lady the wood nymph Woodsy.”

I just couldn’t let it go. I’d tracked down La Chaise, mommy-blogging about diaper rash and her giant stool, and Empty Shell — married! Married, damn it! Married! — and Shagatha, out in the desert gettin’ set to take Oprah down.

But where was Fox? Where was Third Elf? Where was The Autonomous Eye?

It kept nagging at me, like an itch you can never scratch no matter what advanced yoga positions you twist your tanned and well-muscled torso into, even if you’re hardly drinking at all that day, and all the time you’re crying out to the universe “Why? Why? Why?”

I decided to drop by the deserted bloggery one last time, to rake through the ashes and dust once more, to press Shelly’s panties to my tear-stained cheek one more time. I just had to find those guys!

Not Shelly, I knew where she was. She was married, damn it! Married! When she could have had a real man, a man such as I.

I went down and listened outside the door. I could hear voices inside. I knocked on the door.

It opened, and all hell broke loose.

So, if you don’t know, in 2005,  I graduated from Madame Viviane’s school in Switzerland, one of the things we had to do was make a resume and send it out to actual job places. Of course then I never really wanted a job, but lately I was getting kind of bored of shopping and stuff and all the people I respect, like, have jobs, so in my head I started to wonder if maybe I should get a job, you know? Does that ever happen to you?

And then the most weirdest thing ever happened!  It was like fate or something, but a couple of weeks ago I get a call from this government place where I had sent my resume just before I graduated and they said they had “processed” my application and could I come in for an interview? So, okay I went and everything and they asked me some stuff, but I didn’t know what they were talking about, but then they asked me could I speak French and I said, “sure”, so I got the job!!!  Yipeeeeee!!!! Can you believe it?

So, okay, I started working on March 17th  which was super-cool because right away I get a 4-day weekend.  And, I’m a manager of something (I forget the exact name). Isn’t that just totally awesome? Daddy was totally shocked when I told him!!  I get a pretty nice office and an “administrative assistant”, which I think is like a secretary, except she’s a boy and super-cute. (His name is Jean-Louis)  The only problem was my computer ‘cause it’s soooooo totally old. I bought my own, but then all the government stuff wouldn’t work on it, so I had to go back to the old one, but so far I haven’t had to do anything with it anyway except answer a few emails from my friends (who are totally jealous of my job, by the way).

So far I’ve filled out a super huge bunch of forms (On paper!!! With a pen!!!) about my name and address.  I mentioned they already had all that stuff from my resume, but they just looked at me funny. It’s kind of boring to do all those forms, so I got Jean-Louis to do them.

Then some guy came to see me and I know it sounds super weird, but I think he said his name was “Pee-Sack”??? Does that make any sense? Anyhow, he tried to get me to join some club called Union or something, but I tried to politely decline because I’m already pretty busy at the country club and they wouldn’t like it if I joined somewhere else.  But then the guy said I had to join and I had to pay dues, like every month!!! And he got kind of mean about it when I kept saying no thank-you. And then I started to cry a little because he was sort of smelly from cigarettes and had a long grey pony-tail and a really horrible outfit (saggy jeans and a kind of old, old t-shirt) and he was really starting to scare me.

Then he gave me more papers and told me I’d better fill them out and sign them and join his union club or I’d never have any way of knowing when I was unhappy with my job and I wouldn’t be allowed to go along every three years when all my coworkers stood around in front of the building with picnic signs smoking and yelling at kids and old ladies who walked by.

The whole thing was super HORRIBLE!!!!!  I got Jean-Louis to call Daddy right away and our lawyer came over and wrote a letter for me to send to that awful Pee-Sack man and so I don’t have to join his club.  Phew! Can you imagine?

So anyway, the rest of work is super fun. Every day we find some nice places to go for coffee in the mornings and a bunch of us girls (and Jean-Louis) are finding all sorts of super fabulous little places to go for lunch.  After, we shop for a while and then… back to work we go!!

Sometimes we have meetings and someone else’s administrative assistant writes down everything that happens and everything that everybody says and then sends it to us later and it’s so much fun because it’s like a little book and I’m in it!!!

So, I hope you all have super tons of fun at your jobs, too!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 Okay, so I just got back from Vancouver where I was visiting my cousin, Echo.  And she told me she was a professional escort, which at first I thought sounded super fun because she gets to go on lots of dates and sometimes gets to go to some nice places.  But then she told me ALL about her job and then I was kind of surprised and also curious. So, we talked all about it for hours and hours. She says she likes her job as much as most people like theirs.  She’s really smart, so I guess she knows what’s right for her. In her spare time Echo works with this group in Vancouver that’s trying to start something called a “cooperative” for all kinds of people who do sex jobs so they can be safe and healthy in their jobs like other people like to be in theirs. Because, guess what?  Doing sex stuff for a job is illegal and even Echo was arrested once!!! And then I thought that was totally crazy because Echo is really nice and nobody’s making her do this job and she isn’t robbing anyone or hurting anyone and the people who hire Echo are happy, right?

Echo says lots of sex job people don’t have a job as good as hers though and some people do sex jobs because they don’t have other choices or because they have other kinds of problems and they have to do their jobs on the streets where all sorts of bad things can happen to them.  She took me to meet some of the people she’s working with and some were super nice like Echo and some were a little scary, and some made me really sad.

So I think the idea of a cooperative is super cool, and I wanted to give them some money to help, but Echo says they’ve got one big step done, but they have to get some laws changed and stuff before they can get the cooperative. I wish I was smarter because I don’t really understand what the problem is. Because when I got back to Ottawa the other day I saw that the police were really proud of arresting a bunch of people on the weekend for doing sex and I couldn’t believe it and it made me a little angry because I thought of Echo and her friends. So, it would be super fabulous if they can get that cooperative because Echo says that will “open the door” and I think it’s a lot better to open doors for people than to slam them in their faces, don’t you?

wet.jpg 

Oh my gosh, that rascally pussy of mine keeps jumping in the shower with me – can you imagine? She seems to really love the shower massage thingy especially.  It’s so cute to watch. But then she’s all wet and I have to rub her super gently with a nice fluffy towel so she doesn’t catch cold.  My vetree  veteran  verternay  animal doctor told me young little pussies are very sensitive and you have to be super careful not to hurt them. So I am being.

So, I’m super excited about blogging about my pussy because there are a lot of people out there who love reading about pussies and even have blogs of their own where they show pictures and talk about all the fun they have with their little furry pussy friends. So now I don’t know if I should be a restaurant reviewer girl or a pussy blogging girl?? Maybe I could do both. But that seems like a lot of writing. Oh well. I’ll try not to think about it too much and just see what happens.

Anyway, I know you’re all dying to find out what I named my pussy and thank you sooooo much for all the really super cool suggestions and I thought about them all really long and hard until my head hurt. But then I just sat and stared at my pussy for a really super long, long time and then suddenly a name just popped into my head!

JUICEY! Kind of like Josie which is a name I always loved since I saw Josie and the Pussycats, but also kind of like to say that she’s sweet and kind of damp all the time  (from jumping in the shower so much).  Get it? Don’t you think that’s cute? I’m really amazed about how I thought of that, but as soon as I did I knew it was perfect.

So, Ta-da… Everybody:  meet, Juicy Pussy!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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