Mermaid Short

The water was clear blue, just like every other day. Well today perhaps there was a slight greenish tint to it and that ladies and gentleman, is the extent of excitement in my life.

It wasn’t always like this. I used to have excitement. Hell, I even miss the days when people would constantly ask me how I went to the bathroom. I was kind of like “duh!” but when the lower half of your body is all scales and one big tail fin, I guess it’s okay for humans to wonder. Now when we got to the how do I have sex question, which invariably included a lecherous leer, that’s when my patience ran out. Oh there were a few times when the man asking the question was cute enough, and asked in such a way that I showed him, but those days are over. Now, I’m all washed up.

I have performance anxiety. It isn’t supposed to happen, ya know. I’m kind of like a werewolf who turns with the full moon. When the tide is high, I’m a mermaid, but for some reason I can’t turn anymore. So here I sit, on the rocks near the ocean longing to be somewhere I can’t. Everyday I make note of the color of the sea and what happened to me on days when the sea was that color.

I’m a has-been, never will be again. My body is still amazing by human standards, but people recognize my face and then I’m no longer a female with a hot body, but a mermaid with an ordinary set of legs.

I’d like to blame it on the Lubriderm commercial I was in. You know the one, an alligator walks around all slow like and a chick with a great pair of sticks rubs lotion all over them. Yeah well, take that commercial but combine the gator and the chick into one person, a scaly hot chick—that’s me. I’d be in a Mer form then rub lotion on my tail and viola, I’d be ordinary again, albeit with silky smooth, evenly tanned legs.

Pebbles cascaded down the rocky path and bounced their way by me to plummet into the crashing waves. Oh great, he was here again.

“I don’t want any, don’t have any, don’t need any.”

“That might matter if I gave a shit what you thought.”

Turning around, I saw a face I never wanted to see again for as long as I loved… er…lived. I caught a glimpse of his onyx black eyes and slicked back hair before he threw the burlap bag over my head.

In my prime no one would’ve kidnapped me with a potato sack. Silk, it definitely would’ve been silk. I thought I would at least warrant a poly-cotton blend—oh how the mighty have fallen.


In russian???