scatterings of a well-read newspaper. The walls were covered with greasy handprints where large women had lowered themselves. Elsie licked one, imagining the billion burgeoning bacteria becoming a part of her.
At the sink with the fingers she had just used to collect the offal residue, she rubbed the hidden underside of the faucet. People would use this and imagine their hands clean. People might even lower their heads for a drink, or cup water in their hands to clean a face. Either way, the imperfection would continue.
Before she left, Elsie pulled out a dust bunny. She spoke to it, thanking it for its service and its sacrifice. It cooed back, understanding its duty. She placed it atop the sink and stepped back, admiring how strong and proud the dusty gray ball appeared upon the whiteness of the porcelain. Perhaps people would see and understand.
She could only hope.
As she left, Elsie checked that the packets of pills upon her body were secure. It would be a long day and she was thankful she had enough ammo to at least wound.
In the asylum, they watched you very closely and made sure you took your medication. Elsie had learned the art of regurgitation, however, and was able to save her pills for later. There was always someplace to hide the small tablets and the multi-colored, time-release capsules. When the doctors finally believed that it was time for them to release her, Elsie would gather her stash and take it into the world. Even now, ziplock bags were taped to her body, bags filled with a hundred capsules and tablets: Haldol, Thorazine, Ativan, Effexor, Paxil, Zoloft and a dozen others that allowed her to insinuate her dust bunny logic into the bodies of the misguided.
When Elsie eventually ran out, she would do something stupid, again, like wander onto the highway, screaming at the traffic. It was never really more than a month before the overburdened medical system was forced to release her. And when they did, Elsie made sure she was resupplied.
Her next stop was the mall.
…and the church where she added Zyprexa to the holy water.
Nobody would drink the holy water, but it was the principle of it. It didn't hold the same thrill as dropping the powder from six Tranxene capsules into the ice tea dispenser in the food court at the mall, but it was satisfying to get back at the God that demanded such demented perfection.
…and then there was the Department of Motor Vehicles…
…and the gas station…
It wasn't until lunchtime, after she ran her feces-covered hands through the salad bar of a buffet-style restaurant, that she was noticed. As usual, it was a manager with too much time on her hands and a penchant for victimizing the unclean.
"Hey there! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Elsie had been a librarian for twenty years before her conversion and she knew the meaning of the word rhetorical, so she ignored the remark.
"I asked you a question, lady."
Elsie sighed and remembered the Dewey decimals of a dozen books that would help the woman understand that this question wasn't meant to be answered.
Luckily, Elsie was able to press a quivering dust bunny atop the potato salad before she was roughly jerked away. She turned, ignoring the pain, and gazed defiantly into the thirtyish woman's bespectacled eyes. Elsie noticed a fading patch of yellow beneath the left eye. And another at the corner of the jaw beneath the left ear, almost disguised by a heavy coating of makeup.
Almost.
"You need to leave, lady."
The command came petulant and whispered so as not to disturb the other patrons who were already beginning to stare.
The bruises were evidence of a certain brutality. Elsie wondered if the woman knew about the dust bunnies. She wondered if the woman hid beneath the bed and spoke to them, praying to the dust bunnies to protect her as Elsie herself had done for so many years.
Elsie allowed herself to be dragged to the door. Before it was slammed in her face, she turned and spoke.
"Are you hit often?"
The woman stepped back, her hand gripping the door for support. Perhaps she felt the question was rhetorical.
"Do you speak with the dust bunnies? Do you hear their cries?"
The woman stared.
"Do you answer them?"
The woman slammed the door and left Elsie outside.
"You could be me," said Elsie to the door. "If you would only listen, you could be me."
Elsie turned and trudged on down the sidewalk, shaking her head at the obviousness of it all.