The Faux Pas Press #40: The Jail Cell of Maribel Sandoval

The Faux Pas Press #40

29 June 2010

The Jail Cell of Maribel Sandoval

By

Jason
Fresh

Copyright. Faux Pas Press, dba.
A division of American Sigil, Inc.

Light shines on only one square in the prison cell of Maribel Sandoval. She hovers over food served on a plastic trey, sitting in the cramped corner closest to 2’ by 2’ square of light, a square projected through a proportional window pane like a black movie screen. There is no movie to watch now.

Before, she ran around town seeking thrills, wondering from pub to pub, club to club, searching for the next great event. Before, she planned out an evening based data gathered from a game show audience she called “friends”. She planned her life based on the promptings of others, curious, always curious as to how it would end – the story written by God. “How are you guys? What are ya’ll up to tonight? Are ya‘ll going to Level 4?”

Maribel Sandoval was informed and interested. Parents called her on regular basis to check up. A mother called her to discuss the prospects. But there are no prospects in the jail cell of Maribel Sandoval. In truth, there are just as many as there were before. Cold floors where not what she was used going to college in Texas. Desolate features of a prison cell are similar to the sterile look of dorm room walls, the open, plastic finish of industrial-style tile, and a sink that girls could pee in – only if they were too tired to use the head down the corridor. These were all traits of a cell she could make her own. The only difference is that this cell would not have as many solutions. Yes, as she hovers over the plastic tray, reminiscent of those plastic industrial-style tiles, she thinks about her lot, wondering as she pokes at rehydrated potatoes why she is being punished by the Fury. “Did I speak too quickly or too forcefully?” she questions herself, the type of question that a crazy person employs, perhaps to mask an delusion, an ingrained, historic, gradual process of washing ones sins away.

Maribel could not be punished in a more suitable way. This cell is a place that the Fury created for individuals who do harm, use, and enslave others without acknowledging their wrongs. This sad truth is that he, the Fury, can keep the swiftly-aging Maribel Sandoval in this cell for as long it takes. An even more devastating truth is that the key to her freedom is not a golden piece of metal forged by a little Chinese man locked away in a closet. No, the key is a simple admission of guilt. She had pledged herself to the Fury before, but she had to go and fuck a Hollywood celebrity and pretend that she didn’t. This is just like little Robbie Hubbard, tattooing crosses on his body like a badge of courage or righteousness. Well, his cell is right down the hall. Yes, the Fury keeps all of the deceivers right here, right here at the WEST END of the FOLD IN THE FABRIC OF NIGHT. I guess the question we must ask ourselves, the patrons of the Faux Pas Press is: what is virtue? What will happen to the enemies of the Fury? This is a laughable question to me, but I have to ask. I’m the Keeper of the Fold. That is my honorable title. Not like the Fishers of Men on Earth. Yes, virtue here is wickedness there. Funny isn’t it? A pity

The prison cell of Maribel Sandoval can be destroyed whenever she wants it destroyed. She could be released and go on to create life and live it in whatever way suits her. But she will most likely just sit there, rotting away, staring at rehydrated mashed potatoes and a plastic trey, reminiscent of the industrial-style tile at a redneck college just North of Austin. What a pity!