The Girl Who Drank Gasoline
March 22, 2010 § Leave a comment
Her lips were always that sort of elephant grey- almost sure there was pink beneath but the grey overwhelmed.
She’d gas up her motorbike then tilt the nozzle to her lips and pull like it was a straw in a milkshake. Grease dribbled from the corners of her mouth. She wiped it on a well-oiled sleeve. People stared. Convenience store clerks didn’t know whether to dial poison control or just 911 straight away so they just stood slack jawed, ringing up cigarettes and Slim Jims out of focus.
She hardly felt sick. It was about lubricating her liver to process the booze to come, her lungs to breathe deep and hold it for days of deep sea exploration and her heart to beat hummingbird which prevented anyone but fleas from latching on.