10-10-11 Muddy Waters

It was last night I was asked if I was a vampire.  I walked out of the restroom into the dimly lit interior of the hallway at Muddy Waters. It was there I found two flamboyant gentlemen staring me down. The thought crossed my mind to keep going but of course instead of being sensible, I stopped, turned, and raised my brow.

“We couldn’t help but notice the light was off while you were in the W.C.”

Did the guy think he was British?

The man addressing me was all of 5’ 7”, light sandy blonde hair, dark rimmed glasses, and a beard that would have made a lumber jack proud. His high pitched voice did not match his features.

“Yeah, were you going to the bathroom with the light off?”

The second one addressing me was taller. His feet shifted from side to side as if to compensate for his cumbersome girth. His beard was thinner, ear stretched.

“The light was on, I assure you gentlemen of that,” I said patiently.

“No” came the squealing answer from man one.

This time I couldn’t contain my smile.

“Are you making fun of my albinism sirs? Perhaps I just have good green practices.”

For a moment all was a wide eyed silence and then a noise rose about me as the gentlemen began to laugh.

“You skin really is a luminous color!” The cumbersome one said, a repulsive gasping noise escaped his tiny childlike lips.

“BUT REALLY!” Squeaky said, “We figured you must’ve been a vampire.”

This is my life. These are my encounters. I discovered I am what weird is attracted to. If I was a refrigerator the magnets that would stick to my cold, white hard surface would be the most unconventional characters one would ever hope to meet. Or perhaps they would hope to not meet such people.

I’m the person who finds pink shirted men sleeping in the back seat of my car.

I’m the person who spills scalding hot beverages every time they are placed into my small hands.

Grace is not something I am capable of.

My mother must have known this about me.

I used to beg to be a ballerina. At night I would lay in my small bed and dream of floating across light wooden floors in slippers, white hair pinned up in a perfect coiled bun atop my small head, and my body, bathed in pink. Mother, knowing better and wishing to save in Medical Bills, never enrolled me in those lessons I wanted so badly.

What I am able to handle is awkward situations. I seem to thrive when thrown in the deep ends of that which is unconventional. Most people would cry at the injustice of such oddity. It is the pool I swim in without water wings. Normal makes me feel as though I have need for a life vest.

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