Copy Rogers

Here is a piece of writing I was working on around 6 years ago. It's incomplete. I remember that inside the box was a xerox machine, and that as the story progressed my plan was to have a new xerox machine show up everyday. Rather than do something smart with the free machines that keep arriving (like sell them) I had planned that Nella would start trying to arrange them into some sort of make shift shelter.


the thick skin of the tv dinner gravy finally burst
allowing the liquid underneath to add yet another
stain to ella rodger's pink sweatshirt. this was not
the first time nella had fallen asleep with a tv
dinner resting on her lap, that happened often, what
did not occur often was what prompted her to be
startled awake. The doorbell rang again.
"aw, shit...goddamn mother fuckers!" nella had a way
with words that turned the package delivery driver on
the otherside of the door a shade or two paler then he
already was.
tim willis was a competent delivery driver, in 20
years as a driver the 5'9" red head had seen many
disagreeable types, but nella willis was
their queen. he was ready to dump the large
4' by 3' box and be done with her when the door
opened. the fresh gravy running down her sweat suit
made tim's stomach churn.
fast as he could tim thrust his pen into nella's
chubby hand and extended the clipboard between them.
nella looked puzzled, tim didn't notice because she
always appeared to him as befuddled.
"what the fuck is this? i ain't paying you jack dick
for some big fucking box that i didn't order."
(you couldn't afford the tape much less the box fatty),
mental replies allowed tim to keep his trademark cool
on occasions such as this.
"maam, the package has already been paid for."
"well what the fuck is it asshole?"
(it would appear to be every shred of dignity you ever
had, finally come home to join you). tim had to smile
in her face at that thought.
"can't say as i know maam, i just deliver the
packages."
"well some good you are, and cut that fucking maam
shit."
"you bet" tim enjoyed playing the role of hyper happy
asshole, it had helped get him through many a piss
poor shifts in this otherwise worthless job.
after what appeared to tim to be some inner debate
nella signed her name to the ticket.
tim was a friendly man, while federal universal
packaging allowed driver descretion in the finally
resting place of all parcells tim usually chose to
assist most customers in placement of a large package.
tim did not feel especially nice today, he withdrew
his dolly and trotted back to his truck. as he sped
off he had a hearty laugh at the look of sheer
confusion worn by nella rodgers.
at that moment nella was involved in one of the
deepest thoughts she'd had in years. what the fuck
was this big son-of-a-bitch?
the only thing nella could think of was the spring
mounted riding pony that her father had promised her
for christmas oh so many years ago. she'd been on the
look out for all of november and december 84 for a box
of that size, and christmas morning when it hadn't
come she'd finally had enough of dear old dad.
"well sweet jesus bitch, your a day late and buck
short asshole"
nella scaned the surrounding barren landscape, fully
expecting to see the pudgy form of her father as he'd
looked eleven years ago when she told him once and for
all to go fuck him-sef. nella's brain did not have
the capacity to imagine the natural changes that a
persons appearance can under go in a decade or more.
"shit bag!" with her favorite epitaph nella truned to
head back to her couch.
five steps in a vague greed began to wash over the
frumpy gravy stained form.
she turned back and headed toward her double wide
door.
bending at her substantial waste was not a movement
nella rodgers was accoustomed to. her back ached and
her free swinging breasts struck one another. she
struggled for a good minute before it struck her that
the box was goddamn heavy. with the adaptability of
bacteria nella soon moved to the side of the box
opposite her open light green trailer door. nella
pushed with the momentum of thousands of tv dinners
finished before they could spill onto the four
sweat-suit's that comprised nella's wardrobe. the box
slid slowly through the door.
a good fifteen minutes of cursing and panting saw the
box to the area between her color tv and foul smelling
couch. nella for the moment allowed the physical
exertion to over power her curious greed as she
slumped upon the battle tested couch. within a minute
nella was sound asleep.

nella's grey eyes slowly focused between the outline of her nipple protruding through her sweat suit and a large box of unkown origin resting on her trailer floor. nella is not blessed nor cursed with a memory, she has very little recollection of tim willis dumping the package on her front porch. "that big fucked asser head." her spring mounted pony was one thing nella never forgot, and her father who never supplied it was one of many people she never forgave. nella's own version of what other people call curiosity crawled it's way through neglected pathways of her brain. she wondered if she'd be able to ride the horse when she pulled it from the box. she could tell by the size of the box that it was one of those stupid fucking things you have to piece together.
the ice in nella's glass of porter ridge merlot was melting at an astonishing rate