bubbles.

            God, there she goes again, a grown woman, chewing MY bubble gum.

            Where are her shoes?

            “MA, YOU FORGOT YOUR SHOES!!”

            How did she get so skinny? She’s forgotten to eat. She’d lose her head if it weren’t screwed on tight…

            Are those my pants?

            Okay, okay, back away from the window. Worrying has never solved anything. Let’s focus on the facts: she’s lost it. Gah…she’s been, like, completely taken over. I think aliens abducted her brain. They just did an invisible lobotomy, just like that, and sped away in their ship before anyone noticed the difference.

            I’ve noticed, all right.

            She used to be “Mother.” She had Maria wipe the kitchen clean with Clorox wipes after every meal. She bought organic juice for $7.50 a bottle; she bought Manolo Blahniks at two grand a pair.

            If she keeps running around barefooted, her feet will be too calloused to fit into her Manolos again.

            Maybe then she’ll be sorry.

           

            Yeah, so, we had to leave the City. I lived there for eleven years; it was never my cuppa tea. The prissy uniform for the prissy school full of prissy girls, the Fifth Av address, I got used to it, but I never said I liked it.

            The fresh air in New Hampshire sure is refreshing. Ma seems to think so, too.

            “MA! DON’T GET GRASS STAINS ON MY LEVI’S!”

            Is she gonna lay there all day?

            Her brain is, like, lightyears away. Probably to Pluto by now.

           

            This house creeps me out. Seriously! Who wants to live in some dead woman’s house? Yeah, I know, she was Grandmother…but, she died here. There’s something wrong with this. Plus, it smells so…gross! Like the books in the back of the library, covered in dust. Oh, I do miss the library…the leather sofas, the books that crinkle when I open them, the lady at the desk who always asks if I need help.

            I never need help.

            I miss Maria. These windows are filthy! She could work magic with a bottle of Windex and some paper towel. Seriously, what does Ma expect, me to clean up? Uh-uh!

            I don’t know what the deal is. The country is fine, but Ma’s just so weird…I mean, something’s really wrong. I’ve never seen her act this way. I’ve never even seen that t-shirt…gah! She’s wearing a t-shirt! Maybe I should call the doctor. She might hurt herself if she does more stupid cartwheels.