Day 257: The Conversation

There is an abundance of food but I can’t help but eavesdrop.

I’m seated at a table of souls and I am like Sookie Stackhouse – I can hear their thoughts.

I don’t know why it comes easy to me, but it does and I am frightened.

It all started when I was about eight years old and I intercepted the conversation between two dogs (Lalito and Chin-chin) outside my bedroom window. Their chatter woke me up from sleep and when I looked outside I could hear their dispute about who peed in Santiago’s roses (Santi being the confirmed bachelor, bi-polar neighbor who on occasion wanted to chop his mother up with an ax).

So I am sitting at this table and I can hear all of their thoughts, crosstalk coming back and forth across the chairs as if this were The View and somebody had just pissed Whoopi off by talking about Republicans.

I can hear the strategy (or total lack of) as we play Cards Against Humanity, a game where the soul’s debauchery is fair play in every move and no subject is taboo, As we proceed to discuss amputees, little people, Michael Jackson and a strategically placed mason jar employed by The Pope, the buzz of their words is teetering into my psyche. I can hear them.

I cannot believe that the hideous ideas and thoughts that are running through my brain as I play this game are solely coming from me. Clearly, I am psychic and I can hear their thoughts. Words like big, black, oddly, box and bling (to name a few) are registering across our conversation sprinkled with a few more not suitable for this post.

But in all the horribleness that is sprouting from their brains (certainly, not mine), I also hear the sigh of respite taking a few hours to have a little fun, enjoy a little food and drink a few spirits, forgetting the realities of our own humanity for just a little while – enjoying the laughter from the small crowd.

And I will tell you what truly makes me happy about all of this, if I am going to sit at a table delving into others’ thoughts, listening to abominable ideas and questioning my choice in lifelong friends, surely there is nothing better than not doing it on an empty stomach (save for the eating of the ants, which is a tale for another day).

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