so the other day i wake up and my heart has stopped, a clot of bad vibes blocking up the works. wanting to do the responsible thing i pull it from my chest, seal it in a ziplock bag, and stash it on the bottom shelf of the freezer behind an old carton of vanilla ice cream.
i go down to the hardware store and replace my heart with a compact flourescent bulb. when i get it home it takes an extra couple seconds to light, but when it does i feel 1,000 times better.
people take to me and my replacement heart. i'm a new man. i sprint from the train to work and take the stairs 20 flights in leaps and bounds. my coworkers shower my efforts with unanimous, unfiltered accolades. within the week my boss gives me a big raise and moves me from a cubicle to the corner office with the nice view of the SILVERCUP sign. kids and elderly people rush up to hug me on the street. doves and deer appear everywhere i go, shitting rainbows. my girlfriend even stops hating my guts.
but every time i open the door to the freezer my heart is in there waiting for me, eating something, frozen chicken, tortellini, even raw coffee beans. it looks up in disgust, like a scorned claymation california raisin. my heart hates me. it wants to fight me.
life beyond the fridge continues to improve. my girlfriend and i marry, i inherit a zillion dollars from some aunt i never knew i had. the president of the company flees the country to avoid jail time and appoints me in his place. shares skyrocket. Economic Dipshit magazine puts me on its cover three months running. i lose weight, my piano playing develops a rhythmic quality, the ozone layer replenishes itself. my wife and i even speak in complete sentences.
back in the kitchen, my heart's moved to the refrigerator side and it's looking strong, poised to take over the whole apartment. knee deep in a tupperware full of leftover quinoa, it questions my manhood, my intellect, cursing at me like richard pryor kicked out of his own bed in the middle of the night by a dozen tiny richard nixons in elvis gear. my heart warns me of last days (mine) and irreparable offenses (grievous, multiple).
i know that it just wants me back, that all i have to do is promise to pay more attention to it and we can live in peace. but things have gone so much more smoothly without it that i can't justify the expense. so i stop buying groceries.
one day my heart chomps gloriously through a Hungry Man TV dinner, pantomiming sex with a big bowl of chocolate pudding, singing "Guantanamera." two days later it's dead tired, rationing the last baby carrot, plotting an escape it's too tired to execute. by the weekend it's just my heart and a half empty bottle of ketchup. two days later that's gone and my heart's too weak to even stand. profane requests are whispered for foods high in protein and carbs.
the next morning my heart's lying prostrate in the ice cube tray, both middle fingers extended, out cold. that night when no one's looking, i drive it out and lob it off the verrazano narrows bridge, my energy efficient new heart glowing in my chest.
