I host at Modwest because...






by josé ralat

From our bedroom, she had been yelling at me all morning. I was in the kitchen, washing dishes and trying to watch Megatron crush Optimus Prime. But as I grabbed a dirty dish, I felt my legs slip out from under me. I gripped the faucet’s nozzle as black, electrified globes filled the room. My left arm shot up perpendicular to my body and started flailing uncontrollably.

"Ah…Celia…I’m having…a seizure," I choked.

The yelling stopped.

I had begun to fold toward the floor when Celia caught me with her shoulder, momentarily stabilizing me.

"Jose, you okay?" she asked.

"What the hell is going on?" she asked, scared. "A waking seizure?" Grabbing my arm, she led me to the couch. I tumbled headfirst over the armrest and into the seat cushion. My left arm still roiled of its own accord. She giggled, then sat me up. Celia lifted my head and looked me in the eyes.

"They look like mosaics," she said.

"All I see are weird, floating black-globe things," I said.

Then Celia shoved my face into her chest, rocking me. "Focus on the bosom… shhh... Focus on the bosom… shh."

This was a first, but not an unpleasant one. "I like this remedy," I managed to say. "Maybe I should have more seizures."

"Shush, you," she giggled. Then she pushed my face deeper into her bosom until the convulsions ceased and I fluttered away to dreamland.








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