Big Beady Black Eyes

I swear this woman who is staying at the monastery is the spawn of Satin. Ok, so maybe not the spawn since she can sit in the chapel, but she is a close relative – maybe a second cousin.

Take a high pitched, scratchy voice and combine it with an emaciated twig of a woman with big beady black eyes that look like Jaws’ and give her a spot on American Idol’s not top 10 candidates (people who think they can sing but can’t). Throw in an immense dislike for white people and give her a superiority complex derived from being a rich, sick person from the city living in a countryside monastery because there is a good doctor amongst the monks. Double Double, Toil and Trouble anyone?

I won’t list everything, but her some of her antics include: not acknowledging Colin and I in any social setting (since her arrival a little over a month ago); walking into the dining hall on the night of her arrival, taking one look at Colin and I and sitting on the other side of the room with a few of the monks (even they were weirded out); singing loudly outside of our doors whenever she gets the chance; ordering monks around like servants and hissing at them when they do something that she doesn’t like; and pretending like she is the only person in the monastery who has any importance. She even had the nerve to call Colin and I her “evil enemies” one night as we were washing dishes (she was watching, Colin and I were washing), but she did it in a sneaky way thinking that we didn’t speak French. I have got some French for you, FU.

I gave her a few days to settle down, but she didn’t and her attitude didn’t change towards Colin and I. Game time. She sits one seat away from us and the bishop from Benin at the table even when there is a place set for her next to us. She goes over gets a new set of dishes and sets up her own place. Well, I started sitting next to her or where she would be sitting in an attempt to get her to move even further away, yeah that one worked. I only do it sparingly, but it gives us and the monks (they don’t like her much either) a good laugh. When she yells across the monastery to a monk she gets the sarcastic mimic treatment (quietly to myself or Colin, who laughs hysterically). And when she sings outside of her room I take it as an open invitation to join in with my harmonica! I don’t think she likes the fact that I limit her solo time to zilch.

She insults the monks (complained about the lack of service and the fact that her needs weren’t ‘catered’ to) and treats Colin and I like dirt under her shoes as she walks by with her nose in the air and her big beady black eyes starring straight ahead. Someone’s getting coal in their stocking for Christmas this year and it isn’t going to be me…I am getting harmonica music!

On that note, I wonder what would happen if I addressed a letter to the North Pole and put it in the mail system here.