Short Story / Nina's Daydream (Analysis)
I sit at my desk, legs crossed, pen in mouth, and look at my secretary. Look at him. Xeroxing papers. Doing a good job. Being a good little scout, a good little worker ant for her queen. Brittle little ant. He looks so easy to break, his frail dandy arms. I imagine and greatly wish that I knew him when I was a little girl. We would be neighbors, or maybe, it would be even better if his parents would be servants for my parents, and they would have a little guesthouse by our mansion, with a sandbox for their son. And I would feel jealous about this stupid boy playing with his dirt truck, happy with his stupid space, his stupid sandbox. Happy without me, when we should be together. But no! This plebian, stupid, servant child; happy, and so content with his solitary existence, his stupid childish playing, while I am home and miserable with the piano, and books I disdain. Every chance I get; I would run away to his sandbox to make his existence miserable. I would run there, and ask him what he is doing, and he would say, “I’m playing with my truck.” And then I would tell him “That’s stupid, you’re stupid!” And when he doesn’t respond to my insult, I would pull tufts of his brown hair and tease him with it, waving it around, telling him that I stole a part of him. When he demands his hair back, I would throw it on the sand, and while he tries to pick it back up, I grab his truck from him and break it in half. “Only fags play with trucks!” I scream. I would then destroy his sand buildings, and kick sand in his eyes. I would not stop harassing the boy until he cried, and only when I have succeeded in that goal, would I then, pity him, and hug him with great endearment. I would beg him to stop crying, and he would hug me back, and cry more. Then I would tell him to cheer up. I would sweetly I pull some of my hair out, and offer it as substitution, and then he would sniffle back up a little bit, and thank me for my kindness. And then I would ask him to forgive me, and he would, and everything would turn out all right. Would a good little boy like him would like a bad lady like me? If I break him, would he forgive me? I only want to take care of him, and him, to take care of me. We should be together whether we like it or not.
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