Painted Face and Pregnant

As I passed through a park I caught sight of a woman walking the median of a side street screaming. Not an odd site in itself but she looked to be pregnant, her face painted black. Some glistening dark substance coated on to contrast her pale skin. She made wild gesticulations and belted FUCK YOU to either all or none. Normally I brush this stuff off as another ill person failed by our system. Someone on drugs, disturbed, or a combo of both. I listen for a minute then carry on. City sickness everywhere. To stop each time would take an eternity. But the baby bump and face paint intrigued me. I needed to know more.

The park and path held few, just joggers. Spring sun pulled them out but it was early afternoon on a weekday. Her shouts went unnoticed by all but me. I was en route to the library but felt curious so switched directions. Knew there’s no plan so important it can’t be superseded by some flash in the pan absurdity. A moment forever forgotten if I don’t capture it. They happen in heaps but only granules sift to my view. I decided to pocket this pellet.

Painted Face clambered to a main road and started to cross. I fell more than a football field behind so scrambled. She passed through fast traffic and screamed at cars. I couldn’t decipher what was said but noted her motion, arms and purse swinging at those she cut off. She berated a stopped car but didn’t hit it, shuffling off as it creaked forward. Somehow Painted Face made it through six lanes unscathed.

A stopped crosswalk halted my progress. I kept Painted Face in sight but now couldn’t hear her. That was a feat as her screams were insane. It seemed she might escape, disappear like so much city ephemera. I noticed her turn to the open campus of a theater whose grounds I know well. It’s near a parking lot that myself and a dozen other bums live in. The signal changed and I fast walked her way, my loaded backpack banging against me.

I crossed to the campus as she tore through its lot. If all the world’s a stage it seemed fitting she did this here. A monologue of rage and erratic blocking. The earth just periphery to the world inside her head. She screamed and made wild movements but then calmed for a moment. There were no people or stimuli to provoke the demon that poked her brain.

A security vehicle circled but didn’t seem to notice her. Her appearance was striking but maybe sun glinted their sight. I slowed to a casual pace ’til the car passed then made my final approach. She looked back but didn’t seem to notice. Seemed to be winding down. I came within fifty feet of Painted Face on a covered walkway. With no one near the verbal provocations took another pause. But now I held a better vista of her appearance. It jarred me.

During the chase she’d turn her head and I couldn’t decode her face. Its dark contrast to her pale skin. From a distance it looked like a black beard but one that filled from forehead down. I knew I’d see it soon but still only glimpsed her back and side profile. She donned a tight white shirt that emphasized a growing baby bump. Her fetus half formed. On her bottom she wore a dark flower print skirt. Her hair was frizzy and in a tie which she undid on the theater campus. The color of her face almost matched the dark hair. Each unkempt in its own way.

I came within twenty feet and she screeched once more. Her voice hoarse, deep, and angry. It sounded like a bellow from hell. Of someone not present. Not in control of their actions. This time the venom flowed at a group of young teens eating at a picnic table. She said something about a pussy and you’re next. I couldn’t catch their reaction as I needed to follow fast. Painted Face maintained an unrelenting pace.

She left the campus and spilled to a street. I got on the sidewalk opposite her. Was now parallel but kept a wide swath. I finally had a good look at her face. It was slathered with a sticky, deep black and purple substance. It was as if someone mixed blackberries with mud then stuck her head in the bucket. I had no idea why it was like this but it looked insane. The Mulholland Drive dumpster monster come to life. I imbibed her whole appearance. How the whites of her eyes popped from the muck slapped to skin. How her hair exploded. How her belly bulged.

I started audio recording so I could document what was said. She maintained her crazy pace and I did too but kept my distance, trying to be inconspicuous. Despite my attempts she noticed me and started screaming. With no one else near I became the new focal point. A fresh target for vocal bullets.

Painted Face rambled words about being pregnant, confirming the baby bump. Then she passed a chain link fence, prompting a dog to bark. She stopped to stare and say my dog wouldn’t get her. Followed that up with a mix of colliding thoughts.

“Your fucking dog and your fucking ass language and shit. Cut out my tongue, bitch. Eat it. Shove it in your momma’s pussy, bitch. Not the fucking point. That’s your money and shit. Like I want your honkey ass fucking dollar bills, BITCH.”

Her tempo kicked into the next echelon of rage. Some deep throated psychosis. “You think I’m angry at youuuuuuu and shit, I’M ANGRY BECAUSE I HAVE A FUCKING VOCAL CHORD, BITCH!”

She came near the sidewalk so I scooted to a connected parking lot. She went forward once more, screaming at a bougie white lady who stepped from her BMW. The lady stood still and Painted Face returned her attention to me. We’d kept our equilibrium but it was hard to maintain as she now faced my way and threatened to come closer.

“Oh my god you people are sick.”

She picked a hubcab from the grass. I reacted quick, stepping back as she readied to fling the disc at me.

“Whoa, whoa, oh,” I spouted without thinking.

She held the hubcab like a shield, no longer poised to hurl it at my head. Still, I didn’t escape her anger as she tore into me once more.

“Did you point that thingy at me? Are you gonna call the co– ARE YOU A FAG, BITCH? I DON’T WANNA FUCK WITH YOU IF YOU’RE AN UGLY ASS GERMAN DUDE.”

I backed up. Full retreat then response. “No I’m just walking through the lot.”

My words mattered little for she was off in some psychotic episode. Drugs or just the poison from her brain. Who knows. The result for the external world the same. This sad, absurd sight. Fucked up but also funny in its extremes.

She set the hubcap down and threatened me again. “I’m gonna pull a knife from my pussy and stab you, BITCH.”

She stuck a hand in her purse as she said this. I feared she really had a knife. Felt little doubt she’d use it. Me stabbed in a parking lot because I just had to follow. Curiosity got the gab cat.

I stood back as she plowed forward once more, telling a mailman I tried to kill her. He nodded along. She gestured my way then walked to the woods. The same patrol circled ’round but once more did nada. A cop rolled up but I don’t know if they even knew about her. All they did was park. Maybe lazy, maybe unknowing. This lady needed help but no one was on the case. I thought of reporting her but she’d threatened violence and would do the same to them. I didn’t want her execution on my hands. A pregnant lady shot dead.

Painted Face had trekked to a trail by a creek. After mulling what to do I stepped there and searched but she was gone. Joggers passed as if all were normal. No sign they’d seen this woman. The pregnant lady with face paint. There was no closure for either of us. Her rage at the world remained unresolved. Her problems, her psychosis, still pushed her down a dark path.

I had no way to know how she or the fetus would fare but all outcomes looked poor. She threatened to kill me and surely would another. Perhaps herself. I intruded on her life and received a scare but nothing like the demons that nipped her brain. If I’d passed through the park two minutes later I would’ve missed her. A reminder of the bubbling chaos and pain that stays unseen. People in distress and on the brink. Slipping over the edge to the snarling abyss of a brain they can’t escape. To a world that takes no notice.

Here’s audio and video of the encounter. I unfortunately couldn’t get a good shot of her. Scroll to the second video for the best feel of how much she went off.

If youโ€™re a billionaire who likes my writing but canโ€™t cum unless you help me afford more than dumpster food then youโ€™re in luck. Ways to support my work can be found here:ย Support my Writing!

34 thoughts on “Painted Face and Pregnant

    1. Every word I’ve ever written is brilliant. Every thing I’ve ever said is brilliant. How dare you suggest otherwise. HOW GOD DAMNED DARE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

      Thanks, Kris. I’m glad ya liked that line ๐Ÿ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I just read his wiki. We come at it from a different angle but anything to stop the plague upon our planet that is population growth then fine by me ๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜Ž

        Thanks for the heads up!


  1. “spilled to the street” and “Curiosity got the gab cat” I loved those lines. There was many, really, but those stood out to me. Intriguing story, sad, and scary. I am glad you risked your life from an almost pussy stabbing Gab cat. Bring information to the world sir.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Haha why thank you. I almost killed the gab cat line for fear it was trying to be too clever. But I guess if I killed it it’d just resurrect eight more times ๐Ÿ˜Ž๐Ÿ˜Ž

      I appreciate you reading my piece and leaving the kind words ๐Ÿ™‚


  2. ah what a fucking result. I loved this piece, Real. Thankyou. unextraordinarybint thinks you are ace and if I could give you my money I would but I needs it lol.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. I can’t claim that everyone thinks you’re ace but as aces tend to stand for ‘beginnings’ and your writing is fresh, I thought ‘ace’ worked. I’m 50 I have too many descriptors to choose from. I like making people smile so I’m pleased you loved hearing my comment!

        Liked by 1 person

  3. This story is hilarious and coo coo for co co puffs.

    Youโ€™ve got this beautiful line โ€˜Drugs or just the poison from her brain.โ€™ that resonates so hard man.

    Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I was a medic in the city for 15 years. Youโ€™d find em in dumpsters and alleys, sleeping under the vents at the laundry mat in the winter and on and on, then after a year or two theyโ€™d disappear. Someone would always take their place. Mental illness and drugs are a wicked combo that usually go hand in hand. I still remember their names…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I can only imagine the stories, weird bullshit, and insane experiences. I hope you write about that stuff.

      My first roomie’s father was a medic so heard second hand stories from that which were all wild and filled with dark humor. My favorite was someone’s arm had been ripped off in a car accident. A medic pointed to the watch on this appendage and said “Timex, takes a lickin’, keeps on ticking.”

      Good stuff.


      1. Some of itโ€™s funny now, but at the time… I got dispatched to an obese lady that had spent the night on her knees. Her arm had got stuck behind the bed and she couldnโ€™t get up. She was wearing a moo moo. We helped her to her feet and you could tell from the color changes that she had shit on the floor three times during the night.
        Just after we helped her up this wiener dog darts out from under the bed and starts eating it. I tried to push the dog away with my boot whispering โ€œget outta there, get outta thereโ€, and just then the neighbor lady who had called for rescue then called the dog โ€œcome here baby, come here babyโ€ and she picked the dog up and started licking her mouth, not five seconds after it had been eating shit.
        Iโ€™ll never forget the look on the wieners face, nose pulled back, teeth grinning, chomping and smacking his tongue. It was in heaven.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I literally laughed out loud very hard reading that. Ah, the joys of the world. I don’t envy you, dude. I guess the dog needed its chow. Thanks for sharing that ๐Ÿ‘๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ‘

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Such people are in every city it seems. I keep going back to the story of Jesus and the Gadarene (Luke 8). Hope can show up in the strangest of places.

    And, seriously, you think like a journalist… Blessings on your life and work!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I share your pain. Last year my short story got rejected. The judge said it was outstanding (87/100), but not enough for even an Honorable Mention. I paid extra $$$ for guaranteed feedback, but I have no idea if the judges secretly docked 5 points for the protagonist’s terrible Dad joke.


  7. โ€œA reminder of the bubbling chaos and pain that stays unseen. People in distress and on the brink. Slipping over the edge to the snarling abyss of a brain they canโ€™t escape. To a world that takes no notice.โ€ โ€” This is powerful writing. It reaches into my soul… Iโ€™m thankful curiosity did NOT get the gab cat!!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I have this bad habit of falling in love with the lines people quote. Every time someone leaves one in the comments I’m like “Damn, did I write that?” I’m sure my hubris will catch up with me but had the same reaction in reading this. Thanks for reading, Nicole. I always appreciate it ๐Ÿ™‚

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.