MAYHEM Issue Two – November 2014 ISSN 2382-0322 ______________________________________________________________________________ Faith Wilson Wunderkind I’ve been an alcoholic since I was eleven: a good year, eleven. We snuck some crème de menthe at a St Paddy’s party hosted by the Honiss family, kiss me quick, I’m a 64th Irish. Round Two, I’m twelve. We’re drinking St. Remy from reused Nutella glasses, you know the ones with cartoon characters licked on the sides, Blinky Bill or The Simpsons or something, and all these drinks take names of saints so I must be doing something holy. I was made to practice abstinence at high school. Sacred Heart Girls’ and you’d think I’d be able to find a shitty cask of _____________________________________________________________________________________________ © Copyright remains with the individual author Issue Two – November 2014 MAYHEM ISSN 2382-0322 ______________________________________________________________________________ Velluto Rosso somewhere in this nunnery; they must’ve locked it up in preparation for my arrival, it seems, my reputation precedes me. In 4th Form the DTs hit. I told everyone I had early onset Parkinson’s so best not hand me your inkwell, or I’m doing my best impersonation of Ms. Crook. I can be a real joker sometimes, so I was cast in the school play as Lear’s Fool, but no one laughed so they gave me Cordelia but I wasn’t white enough, I was a fine Goneril, but drank all the medicine intended for Regan, as Regan, I never died, too legit to be Edmund, too sane for Edgar /too rich for Poor Tom, way too crazy for Lear, and _____________________________________________________________________________________________ © Copyright remains with the individual author MAYHEM Issue Two – November 2014 ISSN 2382-0322 ______________________________________________________________________________ soon I had too many faces but none had reflections, I was the whole play, the entire shit-storm, sturm und drang, and the audience would ask ‘who are you?’, ‘what’s it all about?’ and I could only shake my head, blow winds, crack cheeks, and all I could say was nothing. _____________________________________________________________________________________________ © Copyright remains with the individual author
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