Joy Herringbone* (aka Joy Rainbow-Trout, Joy Gam-Gam, Joy Dugong, others)
(Height: 5’4) (Weight: 136) (Age: 24) (Sign: Cancer)
Occupation: Neider Cheese and Dairy assembly line packager/ quality control associate
Education: High School Grad, 3 years tech school
Favorite Band/Singer: “The Goddamnits” (Punk Metal), “PYITF (Punch you in the Face)” (Thrash Metal), “Cindi Buzzsaw” (70’s Nightmare Trance)
“Joy is very loyal. She has my back, always and without question. We’re not so much like sisters, cause we’re nearly the same age. And our moms are totally different. I’m a little more mom-like in our dynamic. Or wife-like, I guess. I feel like she is a little more dad-energy with the two of us only inasmuch as I would cook a hot dish of elbow mac, cheese sauce with chunks of feta, and kielbasa… whereas she’d fix the screen on the front porch. She would just dig up a screwdriver and get to it. I would never throw a punch in a bar fight. Joy has thrown a punch in a bar fight. I’ve seen her do it! She’s more “dog-energy” and I’m more “cat-energy” but we both like both. Her parents are dead and mine are very much alive… so yeah. When she gets depressed, she either drinks until she passes out, or gets stoned until she passes out, or just self-induces herself into a trance. I’m more of a deflector. When I’m sad or depressed, I usually try too hard to cheer myself up and just wind up acting goofy.
I’ve been sworn to secrecy, but Joy – and let me stipulate that she’s done way more drugs than I have, not that I’m a prude – but I have wine and sparkling beverages in my rotation – and she does not. Let me also stipulate that Joy’s last boyfriend was fucked up 24/7, and they – as a unit – really went for it. I mean, I want a man. But I want him to be more gentlemanly and help me get home when I’m too messed up to drive. I know these are “me and I” statements, but whatever. I want the figurative and literal piggyback ride home. Joy had to drag Grant’s loser-ass around when they were, like, both in a race to see who could get fucked-up the fastest.
So, anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Joy can see ghosts. She can see ghosts when she’s had a few. She can also read auras. Or see them anyway. Her mom was really into that stuff years ago. Palm reading and tarot cards and that stuff. Joy says she knows how to do all that but she doesn’t like to. She will for me, though, every once in a while.
See my theory is: yes, Joy can put off the “help, please help me fix myself” vibe partly due to her tragic backstory and also, frankly, due to our poor habits. We both should sober up for a few months. Probably, obviously. But because I, personally, am crazy into dark, spooky, and creepy shadow-world shit, I appreciate that Joy could totally indulge me with her “gifts,” but she doesn’t because I let her have her space. And she appreciates that I’m playing it cool and not badgering her to constantly point out ghosts and cold-spots. She knows that I know that I could fan-girl all over her… but because we respect each other, and because I do the odd, non-intrusive mom-thing for her every so often, she knows I have her back too. She can open-up to me about any of her tragic backstory any time she wants. She has, a bit. We both shared a friend who passed away recently, Beth was her name… and that caused us to grow closer. I love Joy. I want the best for her. And I fully expect that if we stay roommates for another year or two, we will totally start having gothic-tinged adventures, solving supernatural true-crime mysteries.”
*self-ascribed last name – real last name unknown
Copyright (c) 2023 Matt Schumann