The Orgasmatron Has Stopped Working

by | Jun 24, 2023 | Writing the Weather

i.

Shit, I said.

I smacked the black box with the back of my hand.

Work, you fucker.

It didn’t respond.

None of the whippy whoppy lights were whipping or whopping.

It was caput.

ii.

You were in the garden.

Some garden, though!

Scorched black earth.

A smattering of grasses.

One single dandelion grasping on for dear life.

Come here, love! I shouted. The orgasmatron has stopped working.

I watched you squint, painstakingly.

What? You mouthed.

I shouted, louder, clearer: THE ORGASMATRON HAS STOPPED WORKING!

You came over, brushing dirt off your hands.

You were always brushing dirt off your hands.

It was because you had dirt on your hands.

iii.

The orgasmatron has stopped working?

Yes. The orgasmatron has stopped working. It’s not working, AT ALL.

Hmmm.

Hmmm?

It doesn’t even work… a bit?

No, it doesn’t even work…a bit.

I collapsed into the sofa.

I looked at your dirty hands.

What was the point of dirty hands?

For the grass smatter?

For the one worm in existence?

The orgasmatron was not working. That was the point.

iv.

You settled into the sofa.

You held my hand as if it were a dying dandelion.

Had the orgasmatron been working, you would’ve been grasping my hand for dear life.

But the orgasmatron had stopped working.

We stared at the garden.

Nothing happened. In the garden.

I turned on AImerica’s Got Talent Season 112.

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