Last Flight of the Dragonfly

September 26, 2010 at 12:35 pm (Clairissa)

Even though I’ve been growing my hair out, it still needs attention once in a while. Lately I’ve been describing my hair as looking “like a flaming raccoon is having sex with the back of my head.” When that happens, who do I call?

“Oh, Clairissa…”

The text message read, “No more rainchecks. I want to see you today.”

I love it when she gets bossy.

I hadn’t seen Clairissa in a few months, as evidenced by the rape-thicket growing on the back of my neck. She’s been living a transient lifestyle, couch-surfing and trying to find a spot to land. The latest housing looks to have promise; a full basement she shares with her girlfriend. It’s way up in the ‘hood, about a half-hour’s ride on mass transit. I texted her when I got off the bus, and she met me curbside, smoking a cigarette.

“Ooh, look at you!” Her fingers ran through my bush, she pulled me close for a brief kiss. “You’re so hairy! Check this out…” She pulled off her do-rag, revealing bangs almost as long as mine. She nibbled on their tips. What used to be a blue mohawk flopped around. “I hate the transitional length…” She replaced the do-rag.

We went into the basement. I settled into the chair, she sat in front of the mirror, straddling me. We caught up on recent events, shared a naughty story. (She’s still my Mother-Confessor, at least until Mizelle comes back from France.) “Jeez-us…” She held a fistful of hair from my neck. “This goes onto the Ball.”

Clairissa has been saving a ball of my neck hair since I started seeing her in 2003. It started as a lark, but she persisted and now the thing is the size of a tennis ball. She removed the jar from the shelf, and something fluttered down to the carpet. What the-

“See my dragonfly?” She held out the crunchy critter for my examination. She dropped it in my hand. Perfectly preserved and very dry.

“I was out in the back yard smoking a cigarette when it started buzzing me. They don’t bite, so I was grooving on it. It attached itself to my leg and wouldn’t let go! Eventually I came inside, and it started flying around the room, freaking out the dogs, the girlfriend, the roomies. It let go, dropped to the floor, and I coaxed it onto my hand. It was so freaky. It was a teal-blue color, then it fluttered a couple times, curled its legs and died right in my hand. I watched the color fade out, except for that spot on the tip of its nose. I decided it can be the guardian of your hairball.”

I handed it back, careful of its brittle appendages. She replaced it on the shelf.

“I have one more present for you,” she said. She pulled out a postage stamp-sized baggie with something white inside. Drugs?

“I bought you a tooth for a dollar at a yard sale!”

Sho’nuff, it looked just like the one I’d pulled on St Patrick’s Day a couple years back.

“I now have a matching set! My other one is sitting atop our frog” Hmm… “You know, I could bring the frog back, and he could keep the Dragonfly company…”

“I can have Freddy back?” She was truly excited about retaining custody of our shared froggy ectoplasm.

“I think it’s only appropriate, don’t you? I can always retrieve him if you need.”

She gave me that beautiful faraway smile of hers. “Do you think people think we’re weird? Keeping dead bugs, animals and body parts?”

“Probably,” I said. “But they can’t say we don’t have a unique relationship.”

I filed the tooth in my pocket, and Clairissa walked me to the bus. Soon I will be hauling a dead frog across town on the bus and MAX. I will do it just like last time, disguising it as a can of beer. (Black plastic bag FTW!) If the Spare Infectors stop me?

Hey, it’s in a closed container…


  1. billy said,

    i ggoogeld dragonball z and gor this insted what th hel;?

  2. godzilla's scaly dick said,

    Brilliant story. I have one of those dragonflies. Also two lizards, two bats, and a mole.

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