Interview With Madame Mal de Coucou

Background; Please; Awestruck; Tend; Parallel; Mal de coucou (n.)) a phenomenon in which you have an active social life but very few close friends—people who you can trust, who you can be yourself with, who can help flush out the weird psychological toxins that tend to accumulate over time—which is a form of acute social malnutrition in which even if you devour an entire buffet of chitchat, you’ll still feel pangs of hunger.); Smoke; Spill; Nerve; Strong; Desire;  Golem’s Truth (A secret that must be kept on pain of death. )

Use at least 10 of the words to create a story or poem.  The words can appear in an alternate form.  Use the words in any order that you like.  Tag: Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie and Wordle.  Click link above to participate.

Please-please-please, tell me something

Incredibly unique, something NO ONE knows…

I know what—spill your Golem’s Truth!”

The awestruck, absurdly young interviewer

Had asked for some background on my

Best-selling premiere novel.

Stunned silent by her audacious eagerness, I

Wished I still smoked; I had a strong desire to

Blow a blue carcinogenic cloud directly in

Her enviably creamy face, untouched yet

By the ravages of real life and relentless time…

Either that, or slap the less-than-professional

Nerve right out of her, along with her pearly teeth.

But I tend to bury my feelings and ungracious

Impulses deep within my writing—and it was

Likely my mal de coucou which led me

To agree to this interview in the first place.

I thought perhaps I could share something

Deep, wise, soul-shaking with her readers,

Two generations younger than myself.

I struck a pensive expression, pondering

Parallels between females in diverse cultures

And age groups, and whether my book had

Slenderest universal theme threaded through its pages.

You tell me,” I began softly, “do you know what

a Golem’s Truth is?”

Her aqua contact-lens’d eyes glazed over,

Revealing ignorance I’d suspected.

She sputtered, then blushed, embarrassed.

I touched her hand most briefly, gentle, and said,

“A secret which must be kept, on pain of death—

Surely you’d not seriously ask me to risk my life.”

She shook her head fiercely, as though I’d

Threatened her own.

I smiled à la Lauren Bacall.  “Very well, I’ll tell

You one thing which may satisfy your readers.”

Her eyes opened wide, hungry, as her pen

Readied for the quote.

“I lost my virginity to opera music.”

She wrote swiftly, then looked up quizzically.

“Do you mean opera music was playing as you…

Or is that some sort of enigmatic metaphor?”

I glanced at my large mannish watch—

“That’s really all I have time for, I must be off.

Best of luck to you.”

©Jael Sook, 2017 All rights reserved.

Image credit: Pixabay

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