The Past Is A Prison
Written by Marsha Mellow 

Living in the south we are not fortunate enough to see the magic of nature transforming leaves from shades of green to an array of harvest colors: reds, oranges, and golden yellows, before gracefully floating to the earth. Here we witness our leaves go from green to death before crumbling into confetti and bursting into flames before hitting the ground below. I know when it is time for the season change from summer to fall because each fall my childhood friend, Aspen, falls into town for one night of drinks, laughter, dishing on all the people we have loved, hated, slept with, wanted to sleep with, wish we hadn’t slept with, and then considered killing after we slept with.

Not really sure what it is that Aspen does for a living or whatever took her out of town. All I know is that her job takes her to exotic locations, helps her maintain a tan, keeps her in expensive cars, clothes and drenches her in expensive jewelry. Aspen joked often that her parents gave her a name that would force her to be successful. With a name like Aspen you have to do something with your life. Aspen is not the name of a woman living in the Aqua Glazier trailer court nursing three kids, clipping coupons, making windmills and farm animals out of empty Lone Star beer cans to make ends meet during Nascar season when her dead beat husband Ernest Ray refuses to work because work would take up to much time from watching grown men race around in a circle and the affair he is having with the one legged girl who works the counter at the Seven Eleven.

On a warm fall night you would find us in the same booth with the same rips it had for the past fifteen years. The same table with the carving of obscenities and lovers professing their love for one another. Each year the bar suffered a little more wear and tear. It had been our favorite bar since we were in high school. The bar is special to us just because they would serve us even when we were still in our high school cheerleading uniforms after a Friday night football game. I won’t mention the name of the bar now because I have a responsibility to young people not to promote drinking and cheering. Plus we had to find the place on our own. Why should I deny them the same opportunity to find their own special place that will serve under age kids?

It would be unheard of to think that you would be able to get a jaded bad boy Grey Goose martini at such a place, but you can. The plump woman behind the bar who reminds me of Ms. Garret from that 80’s television show the Facts of Life (because of her size and flaming red hair) infused with Married With Children’s Peg Bundy - always a Winston dangling from her burgundy stained lips. We sit back and watch her bat wings flap as she shakes the martini tin. Our adult liquid confection delivered by Pico Thomas Thursday, young, in his early twenties, quite the tease. Crystal blue eyes set in a masculine face. Two days of facial scruff that is just the right amount of sexy and rugged. His dark hair the color of coal, kept short and clean. What makes this Pico caliente with trimmed chest hair that he will often give me a glimpse of when he pulls his t-shirt down flashing a smile? The flashing almost makes you burst into flames. This usually happens frequently when he delivers’ the check. He had shaved it once which he later confessed that he would never do again because it affected his tips forcing him to borrow money from his grandmother to pay his tuition that semester.

The jukebox was loaded up with tunes that remind us of the cassette tapes we would make in high school. We would always give crazy titles too them, such as Marsha and Aspens that crazy whore stole my man and left me this tape crusin’ classics, or Marsha and Aspens boom I made out with your boyfriend crusin classics and so on.

By our twenty fifth or so Bad Boy Dirty STD Grey Goose martini delivered by a now shirtless Pico (I am guessing that his rent was due) Aspen told me that she was engaged and was going to settle down. Oddly I had not noticed the Cartier ring that she had been sporting on her ring finger. The lighting is not the best in that bar. They had met in London; his name is Josh and was from old money and an investment banker. After listening to her engagement bliss for what seemed like an eternity, I was ready to club a ewok to death when she asked if there was anyone special in my life.

Sadly I had to say no. The week prior I had bought a box of Trojan Magnum condoms in the hopes it would be like Kevin Costner’s character in Field of Dreams if you build it they will come. A week and he still had not come.

Aspen had gotten up to go freshen up her face, leaving me alone stirring my drink with the silence of the bar as the juke box made the transition from Janis Joplin’s Cry Baby into Dwight Yoakam’s Ain’t That Lonely Yet, and I could not help but over hear the conversation of the booth behind me. It was a group of waiters from Applebee’s. One of them was sniveling about how he was now in a relationship with a co-worker who he had hugged one time and now she was telling everyone that they were destined to get married. Listening to him was like taking a cheese grater to your genitals. I could not handle it and got up, turned and walked the two steps to their table. I introduced myself to them but of course being a local celebrity they already knew who I was. Politely they introduced themselves one by one. The artsy musician type was Travis, the skinny girl who could be mistaken for a splinter was named Brie, and the victim with the new girlfriend was named Jimmy. Annoyed I ignored them when they asked me what time the old singing guy would be taking the stage.

I gazed the Jimmy up and down and he seriously looked like he was no more than twelve but who am I to stop a kid from drinking. “Jimmy I don’t know how to say this so I am just going to come out and say it.” I paused picked up his beer and took a gulp before continuing. “If I were Applebee’s I would deny you health care because I consider stupid to be a preexisting condition. You have got yourself a serious situation, a sneaky stalker. There could be a sneaky stalker on your ass right now and you would never even know it. Hell they could be nested up under your bed right now which pissed off the monster that was living under your bed because now he is cramped up with a homosexual that is living in your closet. Go out and find a copy of the 80’s thriller, Fatal Attraction, today not tomorrow. Would you like to see your beloved beagle, Skittles, boiling over on the stove? You can never underestimate the craziness of a stalker. Life is not fair.” I pointed to the blond who looked sweet and innocent at the bar. “Sneaky stalkers can look like that; of course in a perfect world you would be able to spot a sneaky stalker coming a mile away.” Then pointed to the one legged Seven Eleven clerk with the bad 70’s Farrah Fawcett wings and missing teeth nursing a draft beer waiting for Ernest Ray to show up. The three just kept looking back and forth at one another (I am sure for the simple fact that they were not used to be in the presence of a celebrity) they had not realized in their lost gazes I had finished all their drinks and walked back to my table where Aspen was waiting for me.

Life can change just as quickly as a hurricane can change course. “Isn’t that the psychotic Marine, Randall that you used to date?” Aspen asked me nonchalantly as she tossed the swizzle stick from her martini in the direction of the door.

Part of me was hoping that this was an attempt at a joke, but the contempt on her face said no. I sat frozen, wanting to turn but I couldn’t. Three years had passed since seeing him, back when my friend Special K and I attempted to stop his wedding by storming the church dressed as nuns, Sister Mary Patron, and Sister Mary Belvedere. A bad trip that ended the two of us in the clink. I should not be affected.

Just like the Cowardly Lion overcame his fears to face danger so did Marsha Mellow. I spun around to confront the Satan that had trampled on my heart with his devil hooves. To me everything was in slow motion, just like in one of those Lifetime original movies. The film playing in my head had me running up to him and going original Karate Kid Ralph Macchio on his bitch ass. Reality shattered when the martini glass I was holding dropped to the floor glass dispersing into a million pieces much like the way that he left my heart.

As if that was not bad enough my dad busted through the door dressed as Michael Jackson, in his salute to the now deceased King of Pop. The bar was no longer doing karaoke my dad felt that he was the host of the show and no one really came to hear bad singers, who is going to argue with a seventy year old man dressed as the king of the pop. Oblivious to the two he nearly knocked over my dad walked up to me with a chimpanzee in tow and where he got the chimpanzee that would be playing the part of Bubbles is beyond me. He shook Aspens hand with his rhinestone incrusted gloved hand looked at me and asked if I would be interested in doing the new Eminem and Rihanna song, Love the Way you Lie, with him only if I did not over sing it. I just kept looking at Randall and the chubby Fraggle Disney creation that had went horribly wrong on his arm. What now?

TO BE CONTINUED.

March 2011
Because I Care

February 2011
Full of Hate

January 2011
The Christmas Show That Never Should Be Part2

December 2010
The Christmas Show That Never Should Be

November 2010
Time Travel

September 2010
The Past Is A Prison

August 2010
Summer Is Cooling Down

July 2010
Taking Care of Dad

June 2010
When Life Throws You Potatoes

May 2010
Food Is The Enemy Part2

April 2010
Food Is The Enemy

March 2010
Laws For Love Part2

February 2010
Laws For Love

January 2010
The Ghost of Resolutions Past