Her Funny Valentine

In the poppy laced ether of his own convoluted dreamscape, Calvin was diving into gray murky waters. It was hard to remember where this lake was or even if this lake was. For the moment, it didn’t matter, Calvin would swim. Outside his mind, the world continued it’s procession to the grave and intermittently Calvin would join it.

The white walls and the fluorescent light did not appeal to him. The nurse with her aquatic scrubs would come in everyday wearing a pretty little mask of perfect teeth. It was all just too damned happy and surreal. He could see the seams in her smile, the twelve hour day grinding away the happy. He also saw a blurry rainbow, but paid it little mind. He knew her day was worse than his, yet he still bitched about his lumpy pillow. It seemed his duty.

I will kill you, jackass. I know you’re just wanting another look at my tits closeup.

She echoed, as if in another room but he saw her tits right in front of him. Yes, he did look but the pillow was lumpy and that really was more important to him at that moment. Pillow fluffed, she walked away. He was struck more awkward than usual. After two seconds he responded.

“Thank you.”

She was already out the room.

Whatever, perv.

She insulted him internally, but he took offense anyways. It was a bit like the time he read his girlfriend’s diary (completely by accident) and found out he was an ass. Sure, he knew it was true but she didn’t have to think it. She could have just not thought it and everybody would be happy.

His mind refused to focus on the how or why of his new telepathic gift. The questions of why and how become more of a muddled wha? when put under the strain of morphine. He could only receive people’s intimate details without any comprehension. In an hour, he had forgotten all about it and was fast asleep.

Muriel was in the bed next to him and she wasn’t really in her right mind. While dreaming, Calvin met Muriel who told him he was Luke, despite his objection. She was naked and on top of a piano asking Luke to play My Funny Valentine. He soon realized she was referring more to a tradition than a song. They were alone in a night club that now only existed in Muriel’s dotty old mind.

There was no place to run, no one to scream to. With a pull that was impossibly strong judging by Muriel’s less than flyweight body she pulled him closer. Her sallow  skin sagged across her gaunt and rickety frame. She smelled as if she had been put away in the attic a dozen years ago. She was humming a tune mostly forgotten. It was changing from My Funny Valentine to Strangers in the Night and back. She would sometimes begin to thing and then suddenly stop, forgetting the action entirely

To his horror, Calvin was erect and naked on top of Muriel and this was her mind, her rules. Her legs were over the edge of the Steinway and she was fully ready for him. As she got closer, she got younger, but the illusion didn’t last long enough, as he entered her he saw her, cataracts, moles and all.


Calvin would forget his gift and barely remember anything of that morphine filled week. However, when he dreams he remembers Muriel. He tries not to dream but these things can not always be avoided.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. Carson Margedant
    Sep 07, 2011 @ 11:09:03

    Someone got here by typing funny flash fiction website. I’m so sorry, there is more funny haha stuff but this story is dead baby humor/horror really.


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