NAME: |
Sybil Libertease |
OCCUPATION: |
Floral consultant |
MARITAL STATUS: |
Married, to the American DJ Pencil |
TURN ONS: |
Ambidexterity, certain grades of body odor, and lunacy - but in a very mild, assured sense |
TURN OFFS: |
Warm, pulpy cocktails; harsh overhead lighting; robots; Eric Clapton |
PET PEEVES: |
Those who would go about legislating the behavior of others instead of seeking therapy for themselves; television use in automobiles; chloramine in the water supply; foul language in the company of children |
SECRET DESIRE: |
To be the Zima of any category of people |
MOTTO/FAMOUS QUOTE: |
"Oh, my goodness!" |
ROLE MODELS: |
Terri Schiavo , for her quiet fame and accomplishment in the realm of patients' rights (but certainly not for her looks in the later years); the Gabor sisters |
STORY: |
Sybil awoke with her cheek on the cold, white, linoleum -like floor of a video store in the late 1990s. She was helped by store patrons onto a city bus and got off at the end of the line, in a field of dandelions next to a piney wood, where she made a home in a gully out of logs and moss that she transplanted for carpeting. After the first rain, she walked back into the city and created a wardrobe for herself by scavenging backyard clotheslines. While working as a janitress for a chain of Launderettes, she saved up enough money for a train ticket to the San Francisco Bay Area and has since settled in Berkeley with her lifemate, DJ Pencil, whom she met over orange juice. They have a son, Cecil.
Sybil has yet to reclaim any of her previous memories and suffers dizzy spells in video stores. |