Ellie was a biter. She bit the kids in kindergarten, bit her cousins, bit her mom. Twice a week, when she was four years old, she had to become a specialist twice a week to "work" on her biting rage. At the doctor's, Ellie played with two dolls biting each other, and then the dolls talked about what it felt like to be bitten and bitten. One said, "I'm sorry," said the other, "It makes me sad when you bite me," said one. "I'm happy," said the other, "but ... does I'm really sorry. ")
Ellie put together a list of things she could do instead of biting, for example raising her hand and asking for help, or taking a deep breath and counting to ten. Parents hung a note on Ellie's nursery door, as the doctor had suggested, and Ellie's mother glued a golden star to it for every day Ellie bit her.
But Ellie loved to bite, even more than golden stars, and she went on with it, happy and wild, until one day the lovely Katie Davis pointed to Ellie after her kindergarten in front of her father and whispered loudly, "This is Ellie. No one likes her, she bites, "and Ellie felt so miserable with shame that she did not bite anyone for over twenty years.
As an adult, though she had long since left her active biting time, she was daydreaming as she pursued and bit her colleagues in the office. For example, she pictured herself sneaking into the copy room, where Thomas Widdicomb was putting together reports, so engrossed in his task that he did not notice Ellie come in on all fours. Ellie, what the hell , would call Thomas Widdicomb before she dug her teeth into his thick, hairy calf.
For a while, the world had managed to keep Ellie out of shame from biting, but she did not forget the fun of sneaking around behind Robbie Kettrick as he smuggled smuggled cuddles at the crafting table. Everything is as usual, quiet and boring, and then Ellie, and SCHNAPP !, howls Robbie Kettrick like a baby, and everyone runs around and screams, and Ellie is suddenly no longer a little girl, but a wild animal that lives in the Running up and down the nursery and creating chaos and devastation.
Jenny Adam
The difference between children and adults is that adults can ignore the consequences of their actions. And as an adult, Ellie realized that if she continued to pay her rent and keep her health insurance, she would not bite other people at work. As a result, they did not seriously bother biting into their colleagues until the office manager died of a heart attack over lunch at lunch and sent the temporary employment agency Corey Allen as a substitute.
Ironically, Corey Allen! Soon Ellie's colleagues would ask each other: What on earth was the temporary work agency thinking of giving it to him? With green eyes, blond hair and rosy cheeks, Corey Allen did not fit into an office environment, like a faun or satyr he belonged rather to a sunny field of naked, boisterous nymphs who made love and drank wine.
As Michelle noted from the bookkeeping, Corey Allen gave the impression as if he could decide at any moment to give up the job as an office manager to live on a tree from now on. Ellie, who was more of an outsider in the office, often noticed her colleagues whispering about Corey Allen; it was probably in these conversations how much they wanted to sleep with him. Corey Allen was good-looking and eccentric. Ellie did not want to sleep with him though. She wanted to bite him, bite hard.
That was clear to her when she saw him on Monday before the morning meeting, draping glazed donuts on a platter. When he was done, he turned around, and when he noticed that she was staring at him, he winked at her. "Oh, Ellie, you look hungry," he said with a sarcastic grin. Ellie had not checked Corey Allen, as he seemed to suspect; and she had not even thought about the donuts.
But suddenly she caught herself wondering what it would be like to bury her teeth in Corey Allen's neck. He would yelp and sink to his knees, and that smug expression would suddenly have disappeared from his face. He would make the half-hearted attempt to beat her, shouting, "Oh, no, Ellie, please stop, what's gone on inside you?" But Ellie would not answer because her mouth was full of bits of Corey Allen's sweet and wild-tasting flesh. It did not necessarily have to be the neck. Which body part, she did not care. She could bite him in the hand or face. Or in the elbows. Or in the butt. Each batch would taste different, feel different in the mouth, have a different ratio of bone, fat and skin; every part of the body would be delicious in its own way.
"Cat Person" author Kristen Roupenian
Maybe I'll really bite Corey Allen, Ellie thought after the meeting. Ellie was responsible for corporate communications, which meant she spent ninety percent of her time writing e-mails that nobody read. She had a savings account and life insurance, but no boyfriend, no goals, no close friends. Her whole life, she sometimes thought, was based on the idea that it was less important to have fun than to avoid pain. Maybe the problem with adulthood was that you carefully weighed the consequences of your actions, and in the end, a life turned out to be despised. What if she really wanted to bite Corey? So what?