Carol
by Ken Simm
Of all my relationships
Carol was the strangest, perhaps.
The one that hurt most, no
not by a long way. The weirdest, yes she could
safely lay claim to that title.
You see she left me for
someone else. Not just any someone. She left me
for another girl.
Now, I was very proud of my
liberal attitude. I had come out of the darkness
and I was there.. With Ethnic minorities, gays
and certainly until Carol, women. Some of my best
friends were some or even all of the above and I
was proud. My hair and my afghan and my earring
proclaimed me loud and clear. I had my ear
pierced I think in Paris but I can’t
remember.
Carol cried a lot. I never
had the guts to ask why. I had waited long enough
for this relationship.
We met at home. We tried to
get time together. My Father walked in on us in
my bedroom. He thought it was the best thing
since they learned to cut bread into slices. My
Mother when she found out refused to give Carol
breakfast.
Carol and I met at a local
rock festival. The headline act was the Grateful
Dead. I got back issues of Oz. You could not read
Oz. Lime green printing on purple paper.
One underground magazine I
got had an illiterate dope fiend supplement in it.
With free paper wings you could tape to your back
and fly out the window. We used it to cook our
peaches and ox tail soup. We had lots of tins
with no labels. Can’t remember how it tasted.
Carol came over to us in
our little spot underneath the lighting tower.
“Can I stay with you?”
she asked apparently because the guy she came
with was shooting up some heavy stuff. She was
wearing a cheesecloth top. I have always been a
sucker for cheesecloth tops.
Carol was cold when the sun
went down. I had a blanket and a single sleeping
bag. Being the courteous type I offered her the
blanket. She got in the sleeping bag with me.
Problem was we were facing away from each other.
I remember trying to be a caterpillar on acid
during the Dead’s set.
Carol’s girlfriend was
butch. Bigger than me and very strong. She came
down to Uni and beat me up. To the strains of
Bohemian Rhapsody in the TV lounge of halls
during Top of the Pops. Carol wondered why I
didn't fight back. It was two things. Completely
unrelated, one the knife that Carol’s friend
had and two the rifle that a guy standing in a
cupboard was pointing at us. He had nothing to do
with anyone in the lounge he was just hacked off
with Queen .
I never saw Carol again.
She did not come down to take her degree with me
and I got arrested the day after. Inside a ten
foot penis with a bucket of whitewash and a
stirrup pump.
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