Abstract Jelly Collection – Septima
[ ... the following is a work of fiction ... dedicated to ro ... because he digs love stories ... ]
We had met on a stormy New York winter night. I was finally getting out of the office a few minutes shy of midnight, exhausted from a long week of work and looking forward to getting out of the rain and into my soft snoopy pajamas waiting for me in my one bedroom flat. I hailed a cab coming down the dark, lonely city street and just as I was jumping over the last puddle separating me from my yellow safe heaven, she came out of no where and with the elegance of an invertebrate ballerina, stole my cab. She was a blur of beautiful gossamer jelly, her elegant tendrils floated around her like a crown and a guy could not ask for a more gorgeous yellow central nervous system. She must have been a princess sent up to me by Neptune himself.
I was standing there in the middle of the rain, completely dumbfounded and as the cab pulled away my eyes met her ocelli and she gave me a sultry smile. It took me a solid five minutes to come out of my daze and by that time I was completely drenched, but a radiating warmth was spreading from my heart. Who was this jelly beauty? How would I ever find her again?
These questions assailed my mind every day as I went through the drudgery of my daily routine and tried in vain to sleep at night. A few days passed, followed by a few weeks which turned into months and still I was not allowed to gaze upon her radiance. What terrible heartache! Why had the gods seen fit to show me such splendor only to deny me the happiness of seeing her again?
A long year had gone by and my mind had convinced me that I had imagined her, but my heart stubbornly held on to hope. One day, just as my heart too weak to go on, I caught a glimpse of a delicate tentacle rounding a corner. It was her! I ran as fast as I could, rounded the corner and there she was … even more magical than anything my imagination could conceive. She was floating in place staring directly at me with a sad knowing gaze. As I called out for her I saw a tear swell up and fall down her slick see-through epidermis as she slowly turned to climb into a large limousine. A white-gloved hand took her tendril and helped her in before a large armed guard closed the door firmly behind her as the limousine pulled out with an escort of vehicles.
I found myself standing dumbfounded yet again asking myself who she was. I must have said it out loud because a gentleman standing next to me answered, “You don’t know who that was? Why, that is Prince Stinkyfoot’s fiancee, of course. They met at a dinner party about a year ago not too far from here and were engaged to be married soon thereafter. Lucky guy, this Prince Stinkyfoot.”
It has been many years now since that incident, and I hear that she has taken well to her royal duties. I take solace in the fact that every year on the anniversary of her departure, I place this photograph of her on the street corner where we last saw each other and the next day I find the same photograph with a simple note elegantly written on the back reading, “You are my one and only vertebrate love.”