neighborly intrusion.
I noted that Corn was quite inebriated, the beer and the clonazepam working together to impede his fine motor skills while at the same time speeding up his speech.
He slushed his way through the conversation like some deranged snowshoer while his appendages twitched and dragged along independent of his mind.
It was true, of course, that Corn had been waiting a long time for this, so he had an absurd grin on his face that went beyond mere inebriation, but still managed to not quite be able to grasp the situation fully.
âHow long is time?â he said, one arm shooting out spasmodically into the air. âDunno, long enough that the duration isnât, like, a line, itâs an arc, bent, pulling space in with it, long time, thatâs what Iâm saying, a long time, Iâve wanted this a long time.â
Things became quite stark for me then.
My breathing slowed and I felt a profound chill at the back of my skull.
Could she really be about to sleep with this silly, striving child ?
Overcome by melancholy, I let my head droop; I could not watch.
But I knew my case required evidence, so I held my recorder up to the window and, despite the burning muscles in my shoulder, the tingling numbness in my forearms, I recorded the entire event.
Rather than relive it in the telling, I will simply here provide you with the transcript Iâve kept with me ever since.
1:28 AM
(sounds of movementâfurniture nudged, walls bumped)
Corn: âWait, wait, wait! Why are we, you know, why are we doing it, like, now?â
Rachil: âDonât you want to?â
Corn: âWant to? Want to?â
(muffled sound of a body sliding headfirst across a bedspread, dull thud)
Corn: (voice obscured by pillows) âI want to!â
(a zipper sounds, heels clatter, the wispy thumps of falling clothing)
Corn: âSpecial.â
Rachil: âWhat?â
Corn: âSpecial . . . youâre wearing . . . the special . . . the special . . .â
Rachil: âOh my god, Corn. You are so blitzed .â
Corn: âUndies!â
Rachil: (giggles) âYou like?â
(sound of the bed creaking)
Corn: âI love. Looooooooooove looooooooooove the undies!â
(wet noises)
Rachil: âWait. Wait. Youâll be . . oh God this sounds so dumb, but youâll be gentle?â
Corn: âOh yeah. Totally. Gentle Ben. Gentle Giant. Green Giant. Green Bean. Can a corn. You got it.â
Rachil: âIâm nervous to try again. Last time was . . . weird.â
Corn: âI flossed!â
(more wet noises, zippers, thumps)
Rachil: âWhatâs wrong?â
Corn: âHuh?â
Rachil: âDonât you want to?â
Corn: âRachil. Câmon. Iâve wanted to since, like, the brontosaurus wanted to with the lady brontosaurus, since the protozoa wanted to with the paramecium, since the big wanted to bang, since . . .â
Rachil: âYeah but it just doesnât look like youâre, you know, ready .â
Corn: âWhat? I look totally ready! Got my shirt off, got my shoes off, or, one shoe off, anyway, got my pants off, got my . . . oh. Right.â
(silence)
Corn: âTrue. I do not appear to be quite ready.â
Rachil: (lower register) âMaybe I can help?â
Corn: âI donât know, I mean, unless you can give me a blood transfusion or have some Dippity-do or spackle or . . . oh, I see. The mouth. The job we call blow. Yes, by all means.â
(horrible, horrible wet noises)
Rachil: âWhat the hell?â
(silence)
(bed creaks)
(sound of forehead being slapped)
Corn: âOh . . . dear.â
Rachil: âWhat?â
Corn: âWell, you see, I think . . . well, hereâs the thing. Thingy. Rico gave me some, uh, drugs.â
Rachil: âSome what?â
Corn: âDrugs. Clonazepam. I think itâs called clonazepam. Itâs a painkiller. I think. Or relaxer. Something. Itâs not good for
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