The Stare Master

When Mandy had an orgasm she would scream the heart out of a warm summer night like King Kong was banging her.

Mandy worked as a waitress and possessed one of those truly radiant smiles. The fact she was insane and dumb as a stick mattered naught when she was tearing the night in half. It was not important to her to know the difference between a country, a state and a city. It was not important she know who is prime minister or how a stock exchange works. It was important however she have the total undivided love and attention of one person. Therefore she felt compelled that the unwanted interruptions and affections of others should never distract her boyfriend. Too bad if it was his family or friends.

Being with Mandy meant being fucked to death in screaming isolation: It is rumoured there are worse ways to go.

One day Mandy had a brilliant idea. Anybody her boyfriend seemed friendly towards she would stare at in stone cold silence. The more gregarious her boyfriend became the more lunatic she looked. Play Misty For Me holds hands and skips with Fatal Attraction.

One day her boyfriend’s parents came to town and having not seen their son for a year were obviously keen to catch up with him. Mandy tried to sell the idea,

“Can’t you just send them a letter?”

“No.”

“You can sign a photo of yourself and send it to them.”

“Mandy they are coming around this afternoon.”

“Can’t we leave a note, sorry I missed you-gone north.”

He just looked at her. Mandy huffed and began working on her welcome.

Later that day Mandy watched suspiciously at the two old strangers making their way into her home. They appeared friendly enough but she didn’t believe them for a second. What really galled her was the way her boyfriend fussed all over them. If he thought she was going to be waiting on these two old farts hand and foot he had another thing coming. So apart from nodding “Hello” to these interlopers she proceeded to engage in a staring match with them.

They of course lost never having grasped the idea of the game.

How could you possibly expect to win a staring competition by constantly blinking as though there was a lash in your eye or turning away all the time. After an hour of her boyfriend and these two rubes chatting about people she didn’t know from a land she had never visited, Mandy suddenly cut into the conversation like a broadsword.

“Tell me John,” she asked the grey haired old man with the plastic smile, “Where did you work?”

“I was a bank manager.” He replied proudly.

“Were you ever robbed?”

“Yes.”

“Were you scared you were going to get your head blown off and die in a big pool of blood?”

No answer.

“Did you retire or did they sack you?”

Her boyfriend’s father had a pained expression of having been poleaxed. Mandy slipped back into silently staring at him but this time it was obvious her insightful questions had torpedoed his fragile façade and self confidence was quickly sinking like a stone under her penetrating gaze.

It was soon after that they scurried off.

Any pretence of friendliness by them had completely vanished as they didn’t even bother saying goodbye to her. She watched her boyfriend as he walked them to their car. They now appeared not to be too happy with him either. She had them pegged for a couple of old bastards and the more she looked at them scowling at her boyfriend the more vindicated she felt not wanting to know these people.

Mandy hated seeing her boyfriend unhappy and began thinking of ways in which she could cheer him up. There were not too many options as she didn’t have time to bake a cake. Besides, she couldn’t cook. Putting on Cat Stevens or Alan Parsons Project never seemed to really work...ever.

That night she settled for the old favourite.

All was going well until she heard a distant voice come floating in from the open window of their bedroom,

“For Christ Sake! Can you finish her off so we can get some sleep?”

"Wonder who that idiot is shouting at?" she mused while sitting on her boyfriend's face.