Romance and Creepy Crawlies

His zits were like rotten red roses adorning a putrefied carton of milk, repulsive, but slightly endearing. He reaches for my long hair thats as oily as the ocean. His fart like stench fills my bubbly red champagne lungs, his breaths panting like a dog.

Crackle, pop and crackle. Crick, crack, crick crack. His knees and back moan and groan like a door desperate for oil as he clomped along. I followed with steps a swan would be envious of, gliding across the floor like a Roomba. His swampy palms inclose over my pustule covered hand that match his face as he leads me to the table covered in fairy lights that remind me of the beady eyed spiders that adorn my bedroom at night.

His eyes meet mine as I avoid making eye contact with the green and yellow well done creepy crawlies in the edges of his eyes and stare into his booger colored pupils, his stringy fried truffula tree textured hair grazing my clammy cottage cheese skin. The fungus colored slabs of hair on his forehead move up and down like an elevator as his left eye twitches like a squirrel after three cups of coffee.

His smile spreads across his face like eczema and a cheshire worthy grimace spreads across mine.

“I love you more than bed bugs love Tea Tree oil.” He mewls softly, like the murmur of the humid wind that surrounds me.

“I love you more than elephants love mice,” I reply as loud as the clattering of the rickety old radiator in the corner of the sewer like room. He stands like a bent toy soldier and trudges as if through a swamp to the other side of the sweating room. With a clatter and a bang he hauls a witchy cauldron into his twig arms and drops it onto the table with a loud crack. The cauldron as black as as the withering soul in my body is filled with a slimy creature like a blobfish dyed green, it rolls and stews releasing toxins into the room like pollution. With the flourishing swoop of a crane he ladles the roiling stew into two bowls like a scientist scooping the brains from cadavers and putting them away for later. With a loud snap, his elbow bends like a broken hinge, slowly and hesitant, towards me, bowl in his Jack Skellington like hands. I flutter my spider-legged fake lashes and reach for the spoon, taking a heap as big as the trash islands in the ocean and take a bite, hungry as a vulture. The melody of smacks and slurps fill the cave of a room.

“Dear, Dear Drazella, I love thee more than Mrs. Addams loved Mr. Addams” He sneers like a moldy fox.

“Oh my darling, darling Vlad, I love thee more than Victoria loved Victor.” I reply soft as the shuffling of the extra large roaches in the corner.

With a smile that turns stomach, full of spiders and green residue he leans in. With a smile as intoxicating as the wine beside us I lean in as well. Then our lizard like lips meet and we share a kiss only 2 slimy and repulsive creatures like us could achieve.