the gift unicorn.

by dorarandom

unitreei had a weekend.

on saturday, The Gift Horse took me to a marvelous party. really a happening thing with it must’ve been more than a hundred people there. which thing definitely scratched an itch deep down in my soul. because here is a thing i love: the happening party thing. people whispering in my ear that the host and hostess had a dungeon in the basement. a trapeeze in the living room. a gift-exchange game where you brought one of your shitty christmas gifts and got another person’s shitty christmas gift in return. (i brought a terrifyingly ugly track-sweat-shirt-thing and got a box of angry birds gummies and a wallet-slash-change-purse-thing made out of an old lemonade carton.) a machine that was like a keurig machine but for booze! i got stupid drunk and encountered myself in various stages of random drunkenness—the bitterly sarcastic/célinic (arrogant-atheist was all getting up in my face)—the special-maudlin-times (sobbing about my cat jeoffry’s sub-clinical-potential hyperthyroidism) (and to a lesser extent about my perpetually dying father)—and the uh let us say amorous (shave em dry). etc. i certainly deserved to wake up with a wretched hangover. and yet somehow by God’s grace i completely dodged the bullet and woke up feeling just fine.

and then in the afternoon got driven up to hanover, PA to have dinner and pass some time with The Gift Horse’s father and fatherswife who were the mellowest, pleasantest, most comfortable people. i mean, they were so pleasant and warm-hearted, it made me want to marry the horse just so i could have these people for my own family. you understand. in small talk i mentioned that i didn’t have a microwave and they immediately offered me their old one that they had down in the basement. so today i find myself richer by one microwave.

i was not exactly expecting The Gift Horse’s parent/s to be so nice and gentle. and i was definitely not expecting a microwave. today i heard myself asking myself, `am i using this man for material gain? for old microwaves and wallets made out of lemonade cartons? for the many opportunities to get out of the house? am i phallicly exploiting him?’ recognized myself scrupling. watched videos of adorable italian people driving adorable vintage cars and talking about how happy the cars the made them and that made the world feel benign again.

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