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My Abused Friend

My Abused Friend

We sat in the dark watching The Wizard of Oz. We had the sound muted and the Pink Floyd CD Dark Side of the Moon turned up on the stereo. We had heard that the album had been written in such a way that if you timed it right, certain passages of songs made perfect sense with the movie. Cindy sat in the darkness also, although not as interested in the movie as the rest of us.

Cindy was a small but not petite girl. She stood about five feet tall, with brown hair and green eyes. Her face was round and pudgy, matching the rest of her body. She generally wore shoes with huge heels in an attempt to make her a more normal height, and frequently wore her hair down to try and make her face a little thinner.

We watched the movie in Cindy's apartment, eating Cindy's food, watching Cindy's movie, and listening to Cindy's CD on Cindy's stereo. As we watched, we jeered the movie. Without the original lines to accompany them, the actors' expressions seemed very melodramatic. One of us would make a funny remark, and the rest of us would laugh as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Cindy sat on the couch, fairly uninterested but pretending to watch anyway. Occasionally she would make a humorous remark, but somehow we never found it funny. We would all turn our heads, look at her for a moment, roll our eyes, and look away. Her attempts at humor were more annoying than funny.

Cindy was the only girl among us. That was the situation in which she felt most comfortable. As long as anyone could remember, Cindy had never had a close girl friend. She generally hung around with us guys, almost as much a part of the group as any of us.

Halfway through the movie Joe stood up, went to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and pulled out a sandwich. He immediately opened it and began eating. He then opened the last can of pop and returned to the movie. He walked back to the living room and politely asked me to move my feet.

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