Of And Dot

by not plu

And Trixie

And Trixie

Okay so my life sucks.

Or rather, has sucked up until now.

I’ve been in various loony bins since age three.

I never got a name.

I ended up choosing Trixie at some point. Prob relates to what I’m best at.

They’ve pinned a lot on me so far.

Favorite is sociopathy. Psychopathy works well too. Schitzo almost became a nickname for me.

Also lots of drugs. Meds. Never take em. Usually sell em.

My last name, however came much later.

Basically my life changed a lot when I met her.

I was little. I saw her off-and-on for years.

Physically saw, not dated.

But years ago today was when everything really started. I can’t remember the number. It was recent-ish.

I’ve always had multiple sides to me.

But she... made the bad Trixies work with the good ones as one person.

She helped me in ways nobody can even comprehend.

And today, maybe because of her, today I’m out. I’m done. Today’s the day I dreamed of since I was four. The day to be truly free.

This weather sucks for freedom.

I’ve never minded bad weather, but seriously. It’s been storming nonstop. Perfect weather for someone like me, but not psychosomatic for freedom.

She's sent me out on a quest of sorts. She says I'm stronger than she is right now, so I'm fit for it. I'll probably just end up back on the streets. I always do.

I've got a cover, though. A traveling magician. I'm very good at magic... at tricks. Now you get the name part. Anyway, magic's an ancient, underappreciated art. I've taught myself most of my magic. A while ago, someone saw me doing some simple card tricks and called me "prodigal". I didn't know what that word meant until years later.

You see, people don't just tell me or give me things when I ask. They're not even supposed to talk to me. It took countless years of asking people what that word meant before someone had the gall to tell me. For those years, "prodigal" was just written off as one of my ticks. It wasn't.

So I'm a troubled kid. But she's molded me into something better.

Thunder and lightning. Ugh.

It’s a pretty sweet deal, and for once, a new experience.

I’ve had every job in a street urchin’s vocabulary. All in between extended stays at various casas de locos. They’ve come to know me. The minute I walk into one they always automatically know what to do.

Trixie
The girl with no forms, just a list.
The closest thing I have to identification is 903-69514

Nine o three dash six nine five one four. I’ve had it memorized since I can remember. I don’t know where or how I got it, but that’s my number. Some hospitals just call me 903.

I have lots of nicknames:
Trixie
Moon
Lulamoon
Lulu
Schitzo
Nympho
Trix
903
3Dash
Dark
Death
Psycho
Pathy
Nobody
Unwanted
Useless
Astronaut
Pill

The list goes on and on. Some make sense now. Some will later. They’re all stories though. I have lots of stories. Someday maybe I’ll tell all of them. Would take a while though.

If anyone ever wants to hear them, I’ll start at the beginning. With thunder and lightning. And just like now, I had somewhere to be.