My flat mate loves his girlfriend even though she has no lips and her neck is very long. My flat mate is accommodating. He puts up with that neck. He makes the best of it.
They have the sort of sex that sounds like two giraffes in a conservatory eating leaves and bumping their heads on the ceiling. She gets off on that I think. Well, I hear it. I hold a glass against the wall. He does his best to please her. Afterwards, he hobbles about in his dressing gown looking weary. The sex has made his head completely flat, but that’s a sacrifice he wants to make. “Yes, she makes me wear stilts, and there’s a lot of chewing, but what a woman! You should see her tongue.” I haven’t seen her tongue. I sometimes imagine his room. I imagine green cud mashed into the carpet. I imagine grainy photographs of gazelles posing against backdrops of the Savannah. I imagine the gazelles looking genuine but probably being trafficked gazelles from Eastern Europe.
I think my flat mate’s girlfriend is a little dirty. They spend hours on the internet. They stand up to browse – keyboard at waist height, monitor on top of the wardrobe. “This is between you and me, all right? She wants a threesome. I don’t know what to do. She says I’m her soul mate, but I can’t please her like predators can. She wants a carnivore. A lion. She wants a bloody lion.” I suggest a tiger, because I think they’re generally safer, but my flat mate says that tigers are geographically inaccurate.
She bought something from Ebay, a case. My flat mate had to collect it from the Post Office but his girlfriend won’t let him see inside it. That case makes my flat mate nervous.
She’s started going out alone, wearing big heels and spraying half a bottle of perfume on her neck. “She wants to feel exposed in open grassland. On her own,” my flat mate sniffs. He waits up all night, eating corned beef in his pants.
She brought this guy back from a bar. He wore khaki shorts and heavy boots. He kept calling me Bwana. I put my glass to the wall and heard the three of them trampling around the bedroom. There was a silence, then a rustle near the doorway, and shots were fired from what I believe was a tranquilizer gun.
The guy left at 4am, dragging his kill down the stairs. Her heels left lines in the carpet as he bundled her along the hallway. The three darts in her neck seemed a bit excessive, but I suppose you need to get it right on first dates, especially if they’re second hand tranquilizer darts from Ebay. I crept into my flat mate’s room to watch him chew his lip and pack her stuff into very long boxes.
