CRAZEWRITING 3

I might share a few other things soon that I don't hate, but I just finished writing this up for class. I can't read it with a straight face, so hopefully you'll find it as amusing/disgusting as I do. The assignment was to write a vocation on a yellow sheet of paper and an abnormal habit or hobby on a blue piece of paper. Then, the scraps all went on the floor and each person drew a yellow and a blue sheet.

I got social worker and chews arm hair.


“Honey, you smell like an orchard of passion.” His deep voice rushed through Natalie's body as she soaked in their rich tenor. “How do you become so alluring each and every day?”

A woman replied half-seductively, “by washing my hands and body with non-abrasive Lemon Labyrinth soap from Zest, your number one hand and body soap supplier.” A third party quickly notified Natalie that she could buy Zest soap in various scents at any bath supply or general store in the toiletries aisle. Disgusted, the woman stomped the volume knob with the heel of her hand, then lifted her arm to nibble on a patch of blonde, currently untrimmed hair. Natalie Illburg hated the taste of lemon soap. She used Zest brand, but only bought lavender- and apple-scented bars and foaming dispensers.

Natalie pulled into Julian Drove's driveway, chuckling to herself about how she drove to see Mr. Drove. She had mastered the ability to both chuckle audibly and chew on arm hair at the same time. Once, it had happened when an eighteen-wheeler pulled in front of her during a humorous commercial for ultra-absorbent paper towels, and her sudden nervousness pulled out ten hairs and a small patch of skin. Ever since then, Natalie made sure that she chewed softly while driving, but the remaining scar tormented her daily.

“How do you do, Ms. Illburg,” said a tall Hispanic man, his voice the same as the one on the radio.

“Well enough,” began Natalie, “but more importantly, how are you dealing with recent events, Mr. Drove?”

“The loss of a child is a difficult time for anybody, but I'm beginning to accept it.” Julian let the woman into his home.

“She has only been sent to private school, Mr. Drove -”

“Please, call me Julian. I promise, no paparazzi today.” Natalie and the actor's demeanor became more relaxed as they sat down together on the couch, with her securely held by his left arm. “It's a great thing you've done for us, Natalie. Hard, yes; I do love my daughter, but she just doesn't understand us.”

“So true.” The social worker was then silent for a moment, until she looked at Julian's wrist. Her eyes slowly crept up his long, muscular arms. “I'm hungry, Julian.”

“I'm all yours,” he said, as Natalie began to pluck every follicle of arm hair with her razor-sharp teeth. After she reached his elbow, Julian asked “should we tell her, someday? My daughter, I mean. About this, what you've done. What we've done.”

Natalie looked up at him, a single black hair hanging off of her bottom lip. Her eyes told Julian that she wanted nothing more than to simply exist as his personal trimmer. Julian met her eyes, then turned away, the scent of lavender and the tugs on his arm enough for him as well.