The Faux Pas Press #50

The Faux Pas Press #50

By Jason Fresh

Lacy Jackson Cambria swiftly moved her fingers across the angry face of her keyboard, perhaps not exhausting all of her inherent faculties – a sense of the common or knack for linear time. She wrote down the entitlement of marrying a man at his worst. It smelled like righteousness in her world that morning. There were pictures of all of her possessions on the wall – that’s right – pictures of her possessions.

A sensible person might ask himself, “Now, why on earth would Lacy Jackson Cambria hang pictures of possessions on her wall? Why wouldn’t she just buy an item – a vibrator perhaps – and enjoy the shit out of it?” And to you, sensible people of the Faux Pas Press, I would say that there are people who want to own you, own you like fans of Justin Bieber demand his signature, own you like a dog owner insists on a trick for a treat. For Lacy Jackson Cambria the possessions of this life are people, people who she will fatten up like Hansel and Gretel, people unaware they will soon become Sweet Tarts or Laffy Taffy for her to chew on.

Look out for Lacy Jackson Cambria. She will start by inviting you to parties, offering you food, offering you wine and frothy beverage, and before you know it, she’s got pictures of you in the Parthenon. She will even claim you as a child. Sometimes it is just better to eat Top Ramen with eggs in the comfort of your own home – or cardboard box - who cares? Beware the comforting gingerbread house in the woods.