The Fly Trap (Possibly NSFW)

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I wish I had written this:

It always starts the same way. I am in the garden airing my terrapin Jetta when she walks past my gate, that mysterious woman in black.

'Hello Christina,' I say. 'What are you doing in Dusseldorf?'

'Attending to certain matters,' she replies.

'Ah,' I say.

She apprises Jetta's lines with a keen eye. 'That is a well-groomed terrapin,' she says.

'Her name is Jetta.' I say. 'Perhaps you would like to come inside?'

'Very well.' she says.

Christina Ricci walks inside my house and sits down on my couch. We talk urbanely of various issues of the day. Presently I say, 'Perhaps you would like to see my Saran wrap?'

'By all means.' I cannot see her eyes through her trademark dark glasses and I have no idea if she is merely being polite or if she genuinely has an interest in Saran wrap.

I bring it from the kitchen, all the rolls of it. 'I have a surprising amount of cling-film,' I say with a nervous laugh. Christina merely nods.

'I estimate I must have nearly a kilometre in the kitchen alone.'

'As much as that?' she says in surprise. 'So.'

'Mind you, people do not realize how much is on each roll. I bet that with a single roll alone I could wrap you up entirely.'

Christina Ricci sits impassively like a monochrome Buddha. My palms are sweaty.

'I will take that bet,' says Christina. 'If you succeed I will give you tickets to my new concert. If you fail I will take Jetta, as a lesson to you not to speak boastfully.'

I nod. 'So then. If you will please to stand.'

Christina stands. 'Commence.'

I start at the ankles and work up. I am like a spider binding her in my gossamer web. I do it tight with several layers. Soon Christina Ricci stands before me, completely wrapped in Saran wrap. the pleasure is unexampled.

'You are completely wrapped in Saran wrap,' I say.

'You win the bet,' says Christina, muffled. 'Now unwrap me.'

'Not for several hours.'

'Ah.'

I sit and admire my handiwork for a long time. So as not to make the ordeal unpleasant for her we make small talk on topical subjects, Christina somewhat muffled. At some point I must leave to attend to Jetta's needs. When I return I find she has hopped out of my house, still wrapped in Saran wrap. The loss leaves me broken and pitiful. she never calls me. The police come and reprimand me. Jetta is taken away, although I get her back after a complicated legal process.

There is only one thing that can console me. A certain dream, a certain vision...

It always starts the same way.
 
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