Her monstrous legs were like a mountainous landscape of chunky cottage cheese peaks and dark dented valleys. Her circa 1974 Orange terry cloth shorts were consumed by her all-encompassing gigantic ass like a hungry hungry hippo on a rampage.
She was taking a potent pill cocktail of anti-depressants, appetite suppressants, muscle relaxants, and stimulants which gave her a distorted and delusional demeanor.
She didn’t have many friends and generally kept to herself. Whenever anyone talked to her she’d always scare them off by demonstrating a complete lack of pitch control when she spoke. Her voice was as volatile as the stock market, you just never knew what would send it skyrocketing or plummeting… This made people very uncomfortable.
At one time, before the Twinkie & Vicodin binges, she did have friends. But they all went away with her sanity. Now her only friends were the 28 cigarettes she smoked every day, the 18 cups of coffee, the pill cocktails… and her roller-skates. Ohhhh she loved to roller skate. It’s the only thing that stopped her from launching herself off of a bridge to an untimely (and likely unnoticed) death.
She was a regular down at the Wheels of Fire Roller Rink on Stardust Avenue. She was there at 7:50pm every Saturday night. The first one in line. Each week with her classic Orange terry cloth shorts, her knee high sport socks (with blue lines) and her metallic silver bomber jacket. She got snickered at by the other patrons who occasionally made jokes about her saying that she cracked the concrete, or that her skates were like flatbed trucks, or just that her shorts were actually pants, but her huge ass swallowed them whole. This ridiculing probably would have tormented and traumatized any normal human being, but not her… All she could think about was getting inside that roller rink and skating around under the strobe lights (which on occasion caused her to have mild seizures triggered by the anti-depressants).
One Saturday she showed up and was 3rd in line. Her left eye started twitching uncontrollably as she swayed side to side waiting for the doors to open so she could be transported into the warm and comfortable womb-like atmosphere of the roller rink. The only place that made her feel sane, the only place where she felt happy, the only place that she didn’t want to die. And then…
The owner came out through the door and shook his head
“We just couldn’t get the business” said the owner. “Sorry Kids. There’s a bowling alley down the street.” He placed a “CLOSED” sign on the door and shut it behind him.
She sat on a nearby curb in a mass of flesh and tears, trying to figure out what she would do in a town with one roller rink… that had now closed. She had just lost the one thing that made her happy, the one thing that gave her purpose.
As her tears flowed freely, she began lacing up her skates. Up until now, she had never used them outdoors… they were indoor skates only. But with no roller rink, she didn’t care anymore. She laced them up and skated to the top of River Hill Rd.
The sun was setting over the water. The beautiful strip of freshly paved asphalt led to the river at the bottom of the hill. She swallowed hard and pushed of, picking up incredible speed. The wind grazed her cheeks and her bomber jacket acted as a sail… She flew down that hill. She skated all the way down the hill and into the river. The coroners report said that it was shock that killed her. It also said that she died with a smile on her face.