When one first thinks of the Holidays, millions of thoughts flood their mind as sugar plums, snow, pine-tree smells, and eggnog dance across their eyes. And who could forget the favorite candy cane treat? However, I have a slightly different take on this sugary food that is association with Christmas. For some reason, I can never suck on a candy cane without drawing blood. Apparently my poor, fragile tongue is too sensitive for it, and it always manages to cut me. I never learn, and each year I end up with several burning wounds in my mouth, and grow increasingly pessimistic.
Why is such a dangerous item associated with holiday spirit and joy?
I have seen many a child sharpen their candy cane to a brutal sharp point and stab others.
Something just doesn't seem quite right here...
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
What the HELL is Your Problem?!
Well, there is never a day that goes by that I don't get myself into some sort of trouble.
Just the other day I created a conflict that shot a jolt of fear into my heart...and I thought I almost died.
Josh, my sister Monica, and I were going to meet Naylie in the mall. Everything went well except for the occassional rage outbursts I had towards stupid loser Utah drivers who DRIVE 5 @#$!&*#!@$%*!@#!$#&*^$#$@#!$ MILES AN HOUR IN THE PASSING LANE!!!
I tend to have road rage quite a bit, but it is always targeted toward the people who deserve it.
Anyway, we finally make it down skyline, past the Denny's and movie theatre, and we're waiting for a green light.
We're the first car to be stopped at the light, and eventually a line of cars begin to form behind us.
For fun, I tell Josh and Monica that I'm going to look at the people next to me until they get uncomfortable ( I had time, that light lasts FOREVER)
I tried...but they would NEVER look over. So I "Slipped," and honked on the horn.
They looked over, and I dead-fish gazed back (I'm such a loser)They just smiled, and waved, and then pretty much all of us in the car started waving back.
Then I started being obnoxious. I pretended like my car horn got stuck (It happened once before) and so my horn just kept blasting.
Now that I look back, I realize how dumb and annoying I was. If anybody else at that light started doing that, I'd probably be pissed.
But that's not the point.
The point is, this angry old man in the lane next to me swung open his car door. Josh had his window down, and for a split second it looked like the angry old man was going to dive in our car, and kill me.
We all freaked out:
"No, I'm sorry...my horn got stuck, I'll fix it when I get home....Ooops."
But he didn't hear us. He had stormed out of his car, and ran up to the car BEHIND us.
"What the hell is your problem?!?! What the #@$%&!@&*#@!$#?!?!?!?!"
The poor lady behind us had her mouth wide open in shock.
Just as he started to turn around, the light turned green, and we sped and squealed off into the distance...terrified.
When he first jumped out of the car, I thought he was some law enforcement officer because he had some logo on his shirt. I don't know WHO he was. All I could think about is the absurdity of the situation.
We all thought that he almost tried to kill us.But he was pissed at the car behind us because his hearing aid wasn't working probably.
Geez. That was awkward.
Just the other day I created a conflict that shot a jolt of fear into my heart...and I thought I almost died.
Josh, my sister Monica, and I were going to meet Naylie in the mall. Everything went well except for the occassional rage outbursts I had towards stupid loser Utah drivers who DRIVE 5 @#$!&*#!@$%*!@#!$#&*^$#$@#!$ MILES AN HOUR IN THE PASSING LANE!!!
I tend to have road rage quite a bit, but it is always targeted toward the people who deserve it.
Anyway, we finally make it down skyline, past the Denny's and movie theatre, and we're waiting for a green light.
We're the first car to be stopped at the light, and eventually a line of cars begin to form behind us.
For fun, I tell Josh and Monica that I'm going to look at the people next to me until they get uncomfortable ( I had time, that light lasts FOREVER)
I tried...but they would NEVER look over. So I "Slipped," and honked on the horn.
They looked over, and I dead-fish gazed back (I'm such a loser)They just smiled, and waved, and then pretty much all of us in the car started waving back.
Then I started being obnoxious. I pretended like my car horn got stuck (It happened once before) and so my horn just kept blasting.
Now that I look back, I realize how dumb and annoying I was. If anybody else at that light started doing that, I'd probably be pissed.
But that's not the point.
The point is, this angry old man in the lane next to me swung open his car door. Josh had his window down, and for a split second it looked like the angry old man was going to dive in our car, and kill me.
We all freaked out:
"No, I'm sorry...my horn got stuck, I'll fix it when I get home....Ooops."
But he didn't hear us. He had stormed out of his car, and ran up to the car BEHIND us.
"What the hell is your problem?!?! What the #@$%&!@&*#@!$#?!?!?!?!"
The poor lady behind us had her mouth wide open in shock.
Just as he started to turn around, the light turned green, and we sped and squealed off into the distance...terrified.
When he first jumped out of the car, I thought he was some law enforcement officer because he had some logo on his shirt. I don't know WHO he was. All I could think about is the absurdity of the situation.
We all thought that he almost tried to kill us.But he was pissed at the car behind us because his hearing aid wasn't working probably.
Geez. That was awkward.
Apprehension: A One-Act Play
(The scene takes place in a family’s living room. A couch is in the center of the room, where Gary, a rather large man wearing a filthy tank-top is sitting at, clutching a beer can. He is watching a horror movie on the television set, and loud “monster movie” sounds are heard, such as a woman screaming, bones breaking, etc. The room is not necessarily dirty, but cluttered. Books, magazines, etc, are spread across the coffee table, along with empty cans, potato chip bags, and various other food wrappers. A staircase leading upstairs is visible.)
Brooklyn:
(She enters, preoccupied with her nerves, and doesn’t notice her father on the couch. Nor does she seem to hear the disgusting sounds coming from the television set.) Let’s see…Snuffles is outside, Cinnamon is sleeping on the porch, Poof-Ball is locked in the upstairs bathroom…Whiffles is….Whiffles? Kitty? Kitty cat where are you? You know you can’t stay in the living room…Collin’s allergic….Ah. Now I remember. Whiffles is getting fixed at the vet….Thank God, it’s about time. 36 new kittens running around the neighborhood within just a year. That cat hasn’t been bored lately, that’s for sure.
Gary:
(Loud, chainsaw noises, or other horror movie attributes are heard, and Gary cheers for the villain) Alright! You tell ‘em buddy! Nobody had the right to mess with ‘ya, and they’re paying the price now! Aren’t they?! (Under his breath) Damn crazy kids…too ignorant these days…what the hell did they THINK would happen if they provoked a man with a chainsaw? Serves ‘em right…Teach ‘em a lesson, that’s what I say….They’ll think TWICE before pulling a stunt like THAT again, Ha Ha!
Brooklyn:
Dad…Collin will be here in about an hour….Dad? Come on…Dad? (Annoyed, she marches to the television and turns it off.) DAD!
Gary:
BLOODY…I WAS WATCHING THAT!
Brooklyn:
DAD…Collin will be here in about an hour. Remember? Is that how you want to look?
Gary:
Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me? (Looking down at his stained tank top and sweat pants.) What’s wrong with—?
Brooklyn:
You’re joking. Right? (She only receives a blank stare from Gary as a response) Dad, that’s the 6th time in a ROW this week that you’ve worn that! It’s disgusting! Look…you have food all over it! A starving nation could live for weeks off of the remains of just your shirt alone!
Gary:
My shirt is fine! You girls and all, changing your clothes 9 thousand times each day…Trying to push your way of life on us men….I prefer to get the best use out of MY clothes. It’s not dirty until you can smell it, or it starts moving on its own. That’s the motto I live by…
Brooklyn:
Please change before Collin gets here…won’t you Daddy? He’s already nervous and all meeting you for the first time. Looking like that, what kind of impression do you think you’ll give him?
Gary:
I don’t give a damn what impression he has of me. It’s my house, and I have the right to look anyway I want to…
Brooklyn:
(Seeing she’s fighting a losing battle, gives up) Alright. Fine. See if I care. (She marches up the stairs)
Gary:
(To himself, almost pleased that he won) That’s right. It’s my house, I can look how I want, and, well, practically do ANYTHING I want. (Pause) I don’t have to change myself for some loser guy who’s coming over… (Pause) I don’t have to change clothes for a jerk who’s trying to viciously steal my baby away from me….(Pause) Or try to impress someone who’s trying to manipulate my Brookie’s affection….(Pause, then slamming his hand down on the coffee table) I DON’T HAVE TO LOOK PRESENTABLE FOR A MORON WHO’S TRYING TO RUIN MY LIFE!!! BROOKLYN! BROOKLYN COME DOWN HERE!
Brooklyn:
(Appearing at the top of the stairs) Dad? What? What’s wrong?
Gary:
Honey…(Obviously trying to appear calm and rational, patting the seat by the couch beside him) Let’s have a quick talk; You and I.
Brooklyn:
(Confused) Is everything alright? (She comes down the stairs and sits next to her father)
Gary:
Now Honey, you know that I just want you to be happy. You know I want you to feel accepted, loved, and wanted….but you feel that already. Here; with your family. I know we’ve all been a little busy with our lives lately, so I understand if you don’t think that you’re loved enough. I
understand if you feel that you have to find love and affection elsewhere; and I can accept the fact that you have the desire to desert your family to achieve this somewhat lusty emotion. With all that said, I’ll let you go up to your room, and ponder the words that I’ve transferred to you from deep down in my soul. If this is what you really want, to strike a dagger of pain through your loving family’s hearts…then so be it. But ONLY if it makes you happy. That’s all I care about. Remember that.
Brooklyn:
(Somewhat amused) You’re…jealous, aren’t you Dad?
Gary:
(Extremely uncomfortable) No…
Brooklyn:
You ARE! You really are! Look, you’re blushing! (Placing her hand on top of his.) Dad, you know I love you. You’ll always have a special place with me always. No man is EVER going to take your place in my life. But I’ve known Collin for 5 years, and am truly in love with him. I’m not rushing into things. I really enjoy his company, and feel like he’s… the ONE.
Gary:
You’re too young.
Brooklyn:
I’m 4 years older than you were when you and Mom got together. Please Daddy. No man has ever meant this much to me….Ever. (Gary shifts uncomfortably) Except for you…of course. (She stands up to leave, and kisses the top of his head.) Collin won’t be here for at least another hour. You’ll really like him Daddy, I know you will. I have to stop down by the store to grab some groceries for tonight’s dinner. Mom was going to earlier, but she called not too long ago and she’s stuck in ANOTHER meeting again at work. I want to prepare something really nice for all of us so it’s special. I’ll be about 20 minutes tops. (She begins to exit out the front door) And before I go…change your shirt. It stinks to high heaven. You broke your own rule. (She exits)
(Gary seems unsure of what to do now he is left alone in the house. He tries watching television, reading a magazine, etc. but it all seems for awkward for him. The television is left on its horror movie program. After a short while, the doorbell rings. )
Gary:
(Startled) Who’s? Whuh? That can’t be…naw. That can’t be Collin… Not already! He’s not supposed to be here for a while yet! (Horror movie suspense music can still be heard from the television. Very suspiciously and cautiously, almost “Mission Impossible-like,” Gary approaches the door and peers out the peephole.) Huh. No one there…Except…if he’s hiding…trying to go for an ambush…Well I’ll prove him wrong. I’ll be ready. He’s already won over my daughter…deceiving snake…but he won’t take me with him! (He grabs a baseball bat from the closet, places his hand on the doorknob, and swings it open, ready for an attack. A small girl scout is scene at the door wearing a huge smile, and carrying a bag of cookies is waiting on the door.)
Girl Scout:
Hello Sir, My name is Mindy, and I’m selling cookies for—AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! (She bolts from the steps screaming hysterically)
Gary:
(Shutting the door) Bloody Girl Scout…trying to give a man a heart attack….No respect for her elders…if she knows what’s good for her she’ll stay away from MY house next time. I’m not giving her any money to support her camping…hiking…drug habits…or whatever the hell it is she ends up spending it on…
(Loud screaming now comes from the television, startling Gary, who grabs the remote to turn it off. Something catches his eye, and he cocks his head to one side, wanders over to the couch, and begins to watch again. Shortly, there is a knock at the door. Fuming, Gary storms over to the door, still holding the bat, and flings the door open.)
Gary:
(Waving the bat) LISTEN! I’M NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR DAMN COOKIES! DIDN’T YOU GET THE HINT THE FIRST TIME?! DIDN’T YOU?! YOU DRUG-ADDICTED LITTLE DEMON!!!!
(Collin is standing at the front doorstep, wide-eyed. Both stand there for a moment, staring at one another awkwardly.)
Collin:
(Extending his hand) Good evening…uh…sir. My name is Collin. I’m Brooklyn’s….fiancé. My plane arrived sooner than I thought. It’s a…pleasure…to meet you?
(Gary still continues his awkward stare, then abruptly slams the door shut in Collin’s face.)
Gary:
No…it can’t be! He’s…early? What is that supposed to mean?! What tricks does he have up his sleeve? Showing up an hour early…is he trying to prove he’s…BETTER than me? Is he trying to show me that he’ll show up whenever he damn well FEELS like it, and that I’m not the man and mighty ruler of my OWN house? I’ll show him…I’ll show him that I won’t stand for his…his…mutiny.
(Gary opens the door a crack, and stares out at Collin. Slowly, very slowly, he begins to open the door, making a loud creak.)
Collin:
Sir? I apologize if I’ve got the wrong home…I was sure I had the address right. (He double-checks a slip of paper he has with him)
Gary:
Come on boy…get in here.
Collin:
Do I have the right—?
Gary:
GET IN HERE BOY! I DON’T HAVE TIME TO STAND AND WAIT FOR YOU FOR WHENEVER YOU FEEL LIKE GRACING ME WITH YOUR PRESENCE IN MY OWN HOME!
Collin:
Sir, if it’s a bad time…I’m not quite sure if I—
Gary:
FINE. (Again, he slams the door.) So he’s playing defense…is he? Trying to put on a cute and innocent act to begin his attack…Well I’ll show him that I won’t fall for his Bambi-eyed tactics. If he wants a war…I’ll give it to him. Trying to outwit me…Ha Ha. Right. (Opens the door. Collin isn’t there. Gary shouts to Collin who is not seen.) Boy? Boy! BOY!!! Yeah. That’s right. You! Are you a COMPLETE idiot? Do you….YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE ON THE STREET! OF COURSE I’M TALKING TO YOU! …So you check behind you. Real bright. You’re off to a good start boy. A reeeeal good start. Yeah. I’m Brooklyn’s father. You gonna come in now? Yeah. That’s right. Take your time. Just mosey on over. According to you, I don’t have a life; and whatever life I do have is meant to be wasted…huh? Just come on….Wait…NO! STOP! WAIT! DON’T STEP ON—!!!!! OH NOOOOOOOO! (A high-pitched cat wail is heard, amongst cries from Gary: “Noooo! Snuffles! DAMMIT COLLIN!” Collin stumbles into view, his pant leg has a huge gash in it from Snuffles.)
Collin:
(Gasping, and clutching his leg) Sir…I’m sorry! It was just sleeping on the lawn! I didn’t see—
(Gary pushes past the bloody Collin and run into the yard. He is heard from offstage, amongst crying cat wails)
Gary:
Did that mean ol’ lunkhead step all over you? Did he? Yes, I know. Shhh. Shhhhh. You’re alright now. Daddy’s got you. Just calm down. You’re alright now. I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you from the evil cat crusher…that’s right. (More baby talk. Gary re-enters with a limp figure in his arms. It’s Snuffles. Not moving. At first, we are unsure if it is even alive, but its paw twitches slightly. Gary takes it down the hall, giving Collin a glare as he passes by, nursing the limp figure against his chest. He goes into a room, and comes back without Snuffles. Gary, glaring at Collin, takes his place on the couch, looking him over.)
You get kicks out of hurting things that are smaller than you…don’t ya? A nice change…huh?
Collin:
Sir, I apologize. I honestly didn’t see it! You were yelling at me, and I just…sorta…walked right into it.
Gary:
Uh-huh. More of trampled it.
(Still looking him over)
Collin:
Do you mind if I use your restroom? I seem to be bleeding pretty bad.
Gary:
(Coming over to “inspect”) Eh. It’s not too bad. (Menacingly, almost threateningly) One time, I broke a man’s jaw clean off his face. Blood spurted for miles.
(Collin doesn’t know what to say.)
Gary:
Well? Aren’t you gonna ask why I did it?
Collin:
Did what?
Gary:
Mutilated the man….go on. Ask!
Collin:
(Uneasy) Alright…uh…Why did you plow a man’s jaw off?
Gary:
(After a pause with his eyes narrowed) He tried to kill one of my cats.
Collin:
(Quickly) Uh, sir? Really, is there a bathroom nearby that I can just hurry into? I’m just gonna…uh, clean this up. If that’s alright with you….uh…sir
Gary:
(Pause. Eyes still narrowed) Down to hall, to your left
(Collin uneasily limps past Gary, and down the hall. Gary kneels down to examine the spot where Collin was standing)
Gary:
Blood. All over my carpet. Inconsiderate whiner! Almost kills Snuffles, vandalizes my home, and then asks to use my facilities? He’s slowly trying to take over alright…trying to make his mark…trying to establish the new leader of this house. Well, it’s not going to work. Not while I’m still alive…(Gary is still muttering as he begins to exit upstairs.) Wuss boy…thinks he can take over? Psh…Whiners never win….I’ll show him who rules here….
(There is a pause as we watch Gary retreat upstairs, unsure of his motives. Shortly after, the door down the hall opens, and Collin timidly steps out. His shin bandaged.)
Collin:
Sir? I hope you don’t mind…but I used some of your bandages. It wasn’t that big of a cut, but it was deep. Suppose I deserved it though…huh? (Laughs uneasily at himself) Are you still here? Sir?
Gary:
(From upstairs) I’m changing! I got something on my shirt…I think it’s some dirt that YOU dragged in the house. Thanks a lot. This was my favorite outfit too…I’ll be down in just a minute. DON’T touch anything.
(Collin uneasily makes his way to the couch. Sitting for a while, he picks up the television remote and turns it on. Blasting screaming noise shoot through the entire house. Terrified, he hurries and clicks it off)
Gary:
(Still from upstairs) Collin? What the HELL are you doing down there?!?! Can’t you just follow directions for five seconds? That’s it. I’m coming down. I’m almost done.
(The telephone rings, and Collin tenses up, wide-eyed. He lets it ring, afraid to touch anything. After several rings, Gary is heard from the top of the stairs.)
Gary:
Well Boy?! Are you going to get that? Or are you just going to prove I’m right by being 100% COMPLETELY worthless?!
(Collin begins to stand up to get it, but by the time he does, the answering machine has started)
Gary:
Let the machine get it now…
(Brooklyn’s voice is heard on the recorder, and Collin moves to grab the phone anyway. Gary, who seems to have eyes everywhere, calls out again.)
Gary:
I SAID LEAVE IT!
Brooklyn:
Hey Dad, It’s Brooklyn. I’m just calling to say that things are pretty crazy here at the store. I’ve got everything I needed, but there’s only one cashier, and five bazillion people in line. (We hear Brooklyn calling out to the line) Is there anyway we can hurry it up a little bit? I have things to do! Ah crap. You don’t have to get rid of your entire penny collection at this store!!! Bloody… (She gets back on the phone.) I’ll be home soon. Collin should be there within the next half hour…nothing will be done. I wish Mom would’ve let me know that she wouldn’t have been able to get anything sooner…this is going to be so chaotic…I’ll see you soon. Bye. (Again, we hear her calling out to the customers.) Are you serious?! THIS IS AN EXPRESS LANE!!! No, 5 cans of the same thing do not count as one item…are you completely brainless?! That’s it. I’m moving in front of all you losers. You don’t even DESERVE a place in line. What?! You think attacking me with that bread loaf is going to do anything? Well look at this….FROZEN STEAK! THAT’S RIGHT! THIS IS GOING TO HURT YOU A LOT MORE THAN YOUR BREAD WILL HURT ME… DIE YOU SON OF A—(The answering machine clicks off)
(Gary starts coming down the stairs. He is dressed completely different from when we’ve last seen him. He’s wearing dark shades, a “Bad to the Bone” T-Shirt, black leather jacket, and black leather pants. Collin is stunned.)
Gary:
I just thought I’d slip into something more comfortable after you ruined my other set of clothes. This is what I usually wear. I mean…what WE usually wear…in my big, buff-man biker group. We call ourselves the…uh….ummm….uh
Collin:
The what?
Gary:
I mean…the biker group….uh…the one that I’m in…we call ourselves, the… (really struggling now) We call ourselves…the...Big…Muscley…Biker…Buff Man…Group. (Pause. Then he adds) Of the World.
Collin:
(Slowly) Big…Muscley…
Gary:
(Cutting him off) I don’t expect you to understand it. Not many folk do. It’s more symbolism. Er..more of a spiritual name than anything else. (Collin begins to scratch at his leg) …Of the great…biker…uh….gods. What’s wrong boy?! Stop it! You’re getting dead skin cells all over my floor. Stop it!
Collin:
I’m so sorry…it’s…I thought Brooklyn would have told you…I’m allergic to cats. I think some hair got on my leg…it’s just really irritating.
Gary:
You just keep having to complain…don’t you?! You keep having to have problems with everything in my home…is that right?
Collin:
No….I….
Gary:
You go around, Mr. Bigshot, stealing my daughter. Fine. You come into my home, and bleed all over my floor. Fine. But you insult my Kitties? The TRUE loves of my life?! YOU CROSSED A LINE BOY!!!
Collin:
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. No, I love this intense rash gnawing on my leg. It actually sort of…tickles.
Gary:
(Glaring) Alright then.
(They sit in uncomfortable silence for a while. Each fidgeting in turn.)
Collin:
So…uh…how many cats DO you have? I saw quite a few out on the lawn. They all yours?
Gary:
Yeah.
Collin:
Huh. That’s why I missed the one I stepped on. I was trying to avoid 6 others.
Gary:
Is this your idea of a conversation starter? Or are you a blameshifter? Are you blameshifting?! ARE YOU PUTTING YOUR OWN STUPID LOW-QUALITY LOCOMOTION SKILLS ON MY SHOULDERS?!
Collin:
No, no. I assure you, it was a conversation starter. (Silence) How many exactly DO you have?
Gary:
13
Collin:
Wow. Are you…serious? That’s insane.
Gary:
Yeah, I would have liked to have more, but Dawn put a limit on it after rats started showin’ up everywhere without their heads. After she found one on her pillow late at night, she drew the line.
(Pause)
Yep. Got them back in the day when I was still livin’ alone. A bachelor. Didn’t need no one else but my kitties. They were the first loves of my life. Still are. While other men my age were goin’ out on dates, heading to parties, and getting drunk, I would stay at home… (His tone grows softer) All I needed was a piece of string and my cats. The way they would bat at it…the way they would nestle against my shoulder when I feel asleep…the way they trusted me so…(He stops short)Ahem. Course, back in the day, cats were very manly…..umm…the number of cats you had showed off how…uh…manly you were. Manly…I was pretty tough to beat back then. I had my Muscle-Man Biker Group of the World, and a whole lot-a cats. I was the equivalent to a Greek GOD back in my day. Oh yeah. The memories. The manly memories. Let me get some of my favorites…
Collin:
Of your cats? Sir…I apologize, but I’m so allergic to your animals, that I really would opt NOT to see them. (Gary can only glare at Collin) Fine. I’ll see them. I’d like to see them. (More glares) Alright, I’d LOVE to see them.
Gary:
(Almost like an excited schoolboy) You and I might get along better than I thought boy….Wait here…Just a sec…(Gary gets up, and searches the rooms of the house, still calling over to Collin) Brooklyn locked ‘em all away for when you came. ‘Didn’t want ya catching a reaction’ she said…Psh. What do girls know…huh? (Collin smiles weakly as Gary opens a basement door.) Ah. Here’s one…This here’s Carnivore. He’s never been the friendly type…but I’m sure you and he will hit it right off…Come here! Collin, he’s not the one to come out and greet strangers….you have to make at least some SORT of effort. Come here!
(Collin slowly gets up, and joins Gary at the closet door, of which we can only see a black opening.)
Collin:
Sir, this isn’t the best idea…I don’t get along with cats….
Gary:
Ah come on…Carnivore wouldn’t hurt a fly. See? There he is. In that corner…by the stair rail. Do you see him? See his eyes glowin’ at ya? That means he likes you. Go on. Pet his fur. I ain’t gonna turn on no lights. It’ll scare him.
(Collin slowly enters the black closet with a pained look on his face. We hear a violent hissing. Gary shouts: “No Collin! Don’t step there! That’s his tail! DAMMIT COLLIN!!!” A bloodcurdling scream is heard along with the scratching, hissing, and yowling of the cat. The sound of a body thumping down a long flight of stairs is heard. Silence. Gary runs from the closet, shutting the door, resting his back against it breathing heavy. He crosses over, and for a moment we think he’s going to call an ambulance. But he passes the phone, and flops down on the couch. He casually flips on the television with a slight grin on his face. Horror movie sounds fill the room. Moments later, Brooklyn storms in through the door, covered in food from a recent “fight.” She runs past Gary into the kitchen.)
Brooklyn:
Dad, you haven’t heard from Collin have you? Is he here?
Gary:
No. Uh..he hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe his flight was delayed?
Brooklyn:
Yeah. Maybe. At least that’ll give me time to get this started.
Gary:
(His eyes transfixed on his horror movie) Yes, Mr. Chainsaw Man. I know now too, the sweet, sweet taste of victory. I know how you’re feeling right now. Like you, I’ve won.
Brooklyn:
(She enters, preoccupied with her nerves, and doesn’t notice her father on the couch. Nor does she seem to hear the disgusting sounds coming from the television set.) Let’s see…Snuffles is outside, Cinnamon is sleeping on the porch, Poof-Ball is locked in the upstairs bathroom…Whiffles is….Whiffles? Kitty? Kitty cat where are you? You know you can’t stay in the living room…Collin’s allergic….Ah. Now I remember. Whiffles is getting fixed at the vet….Thank God, it’s about time. 36 new kittens running around the neighborhood within just a year. That cat hasn’t been bored lately, that’s for sure.
Gary:
(Loud, chainsaw noises, or other horror movie attributes are heard, and Gary cheers for the villain) Alright! You tell ‘em buddy! Nobody had the right to mess with ‘ya, and they’re paying the price now! Aren’t they?! (Under his breath) Damn crazy kids…too ignorant these days…what the hell did they THINK would happen if they provoked a man with a chainsaw? Serves ‘em right…Teach ‘em a lesson, that’s what I say….They’ll think TWICE before pulling a stunt like THAT again, Ha Ha!
Brooklyn:
Dad…Collin will be here in about an hour….Dad? Come on…Dad? (Annoyed, she marches to the television and turns it off.) DAD!
Gary:
BLOODY…I WAS WATCHING THAT!
Brooklyn:
DAD…Collin will be here in about an hour. Remember? Is that how you want to look?
Gary:
Excuuuuuuuuuuuuuse me? (Looking down at his stained tank top and sweat pants.) What’s wrong with—?
Brooklyn:
You’re joking. Right? (She only receives a blank stare from Gary as a response) Dad, that’s the 6th time in a ROW this week that you’ve worn that! It’s disgusting! Look…you have food all over it! A starving nation could live for weeks off of the remains of just your shirt alone!
Gary:
My shirt is fine! You girls and all, changing your clothes 9 thousand times each day…Trying to push your way of life on us men….I prefer to get the best use out of MY clothes. It’s not dirty until you can smell it, or it starts moving on its own. That’s the motto I live by…
Brooklyn:
Please change before Collin gets here…won’t you Daddy? He’s already nervous and all meeting you for the first time. Looking like that, what kind of impression do you think you’ll give him?
Gary:
I don’t give a damn what impression he has of me. It’s my house, and I have the right to look anyway I want to…
Brooklyn:
(Seeing she’s fighting a losing battle, gives up) Alright. Fine. See if I care. (She marches up the stairs)
Gary:
(To himself, almost pleased that he won) That’s right. It’s my house, I can look how I want, and, well, practically do ANYTHING I want. (Pause) I don’t have to change myself for some loser guy who’s coming over… (Pause) I don’t have to change clothes for a jerk who’s trying to viciously steal my baby away from me….(Pause) Or try to impress someone who’s trying to manipulate my Brookie’s affection….(Pause, then slamming his hand down on the coffee table) I DON’T HAVE TO LOOK PRESENTABLE FOR A MORON WHO’S TRYING TO RUIN MY LIFE!!! BROOKLYN! BROOKLYN COME DOWN HERE!
Brooklyn:
(Appearing at the top of the stairs) Dad? What? What’s wrong?
Gary:
Honey…(Obviously trying to appear calm and rational, patting the seat by the couch beside him) Let’s have a quick talk; You and I.
Brooklyn:
(Confused) Is everything alright? (She comes down the stairs and sits next to her father)
Gary:
Now Honey, you know that I just want you to be happy. You know I want you to feel accepted, loved, and wanted….but you feel that already. Here; with your family. I know we’ve all been a little busy with our lives lately, so I understand if you don’t think that you’re loved enough. I
understand if you feel that you have to find love and affection elsewhere; and I can accept the fact that you have the desire to desert your family to achieve this somewhat lusty emotion. With all that said, I’ll let you go up to your room, and ponder the words that I’ve transferred to you from deep down in my soul. If this is what you really want, to strike a dagger of pain through your loving family’s hearts…then so be it. But ONLY if it makes you happy. That’s all I care about. Remember that.
Brooklyn:
(Somewhat amused) You’re…jealous, aren’t you Dad?
Gary:
(Extremely uncomfortable) No…
Brooklyn:
You ARE! You really are! Look, you’re blushing! (Placing her hand on top of his.) Dad, you know I love you. You’ll always have a special place with me always. No man is EVER going to take your place in my life. But I’ve known Collin for 5 years, and am truly in love with him. I’m not rushing into things. I really enjoy his company, and feel like he’s… the ONE.
Gary:
You’re too young.
Brooklyn:
I’m 4 years older than you were when you and Mom got together. Please Daddy. No man has ever meant this much to me….Ever. (Gary shifts uncomfortably) Except for you…of course. (She stands up to leave, and kisses the top of his head.) Collin won’t be here for at least another hour. You’ll really like him Daddy, I know you will. I have to stop down by the store to grab some groceries for tonight’s dinner. Mom was going to earlier, but she called not too long ago and she’s stuck in ANOTHER meeting again at work. I want to prepare something really nice for all of us so it’s special. I’ll be about 20 minutes tops. (She begins to exit out the front door) And before I go…change your shirt. It stinks to high heaven. You broke your own rule. (She exits)
(Gary seems unsure of what to do now he is left alone in the house. He tries watching television, reading a magazine, etc. but it all seems for awkward for him. The television is left on its horror movie program. After a short while, the doorbell rings. )
Gary:
(Startled) Who’s? Whuh? That can’t be…naw. That can’t be Collin… Not already! He’s not supposed to be here for a while yet! (Horror movie suspense music can still be heard from the television. Very suspiciously and cautiously, almost “Mission Impossible-like,” Gary approaches the door and peers out the peephole.) Huh. No one there…Except…if he’s hiding…trying to go for an ambush…Well I’ll prove him wrong. I’ll be ready. He’s already won over my daughter…deceiving snake…but he won’t take me with him! (He grabs a baseball bat from the closet, places his hand on the doorknob, and swings it open, ready for an attack. A small girl scout is scene at the door wearing a huge smile, and carrying a bag of cookies is waiting on the door.)
Girl Scout:
Hello Sir, My name is Mindy, and I’m selling cookies for—AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! (She bolts from the steps screaming hysterically)
Gary:
(Shutting the door) Bloody Girl Scout…trying to give a man a heart attack….No respect for her elders…if she knows what’s good for her she’ll stay away from MY house next time. I’m not giving her any money to support her camping…hiking…drug habits…or whatever the hell it is she ends up spending it on…
(Loud screaming now comes from the television, startling Gary, who grabs the remote to turn it off. Something catches his eye, and he cocks his head to one side, wanders over to the couch, and begins to watch again. Shortly, there is a knock at the door. Fuming, Gary storms over to the door, still holding the bat, and flings the door open.)
Gary:
(Waving the bat) LISTEN! I’M NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR DAMN COOKIES! DIDN’T YOU GET THE HINT THE FIRST TIME?! DIDN’T YOU?! YOU DRUG-ADDICTED LITTLE DEMON!!!!
(Collin is standing at the front doorstep, wide-eyed. Both stand there for a moment, staring at one another awkwardly.)
Collin:
(Extending his hand) Good evening…uh…sir. My name is Collin. I’m Brooklyn’s….fiancé. My plane arrived sooner than I thought. It’s a…pleasure…to meet you?
(Gary still continues his awkward stare, then abruptly slams the door shut in Collin’s face.)
Gary:
No…it can’t be! He’s…early? What is that supposed to mean?! What tricks does he have up his sleeve? Showing up an hour early…is he trying to prove he’s…BETTER than me? Is he trying to show me that he’ll show up whenever he damn well FEELS like it, and that I’m not the man and mighty ruler of my OWN house? I’ll show him…I’ll show him that I won’t stand for his…his…mutiny.
(Gary opens the door a crack, and stares out at Collin. Slowly, very slowly, he begins to open the door, making a loud creak.)
Collin:
Sir? I apologize if I’ve got the wrong home…I was sure I had the address right. (He double-checks a slip of paper he has with him)
Gary:
Come on boy…get in here.
Collin:
Do I have the right—?
Gary:
GET IN HERE BOY! I DON’T HAVE TIME TO STAND AND WAIT FOR YOU FOR WHENEVER YOU FEEL LIKE GRACING ME WITH YOUR PRESENCE IN MY OWN HOME!
Collin:
Sir, if it’s a bad time…I’m not quite sure if I—
Gary:
FINE. (Again, he slams the door.) So he’s playing defense…is he? Trying to put on a cute and innocent act to begin his attack…Well I’ll show him that I won’t fall for his Bambi-eyed tactics. If he wants a war…I’ll give it to him. Trying to outwit me…Ha Ha. Right. (Opens the door. Collin isn’t there. Gary shouts to Collin who is not seen.) Boy? Boy! BOY!!! Yeah. That’s right. You! Are you a COMPLETE idiot? Do you….YOU’RE THE ONLY ONE ON THE STREET! OF COURSE I’M TALKING TO YOU! …So you check behind you. Real bright. You’re off to a good start boy. A reeeeal good start. Yeah. I’m Brooklyn’s father. You gonna come in now? Yeah. That’s right. Take your time. Just mosey on over. According to you, I don’t have a life; and whatever life I do have is meant to be wasted…huh? Just come on….Wait…NO! STOP! WAIT! DON’T STEP ON—!!!!! OH NOOOOOOOO! (A high-pitched cat wail is heard, amongst cries from Gary: “Noooo! Snuffles! DAMMIT COLLIN!” Collin stumbles into view, his pant leg has a huge gash in it from Snuffles.)
Collin:
(Gasping, and clutching his leg) Sir…I’m sorry! It was just sleeping on the lawn! I didn’t see—
(Gary pushes past the bloody Collin and run into the yard. He is heard from offstage, amongst crying cat wails)
Gary:
Did that mean ol’ lunkhead step all over you? Did he? Yes, I know. Shhh. Shhhhh. You’re alright now. Daddy’s got you. Just calm down. You’re alright now. I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you from the evil cat crusher…that’s right. (More baby talk. Gary re-enters with a limp figure in his arms. It’s Snuffles. Not moving. At first, we are unsure if it is even alive, but its paw twitches slightly. Gary takes it down the hall, giving Collin a glare as he passes by, nursing the limp figure against his chest. He goes into a room, and comes back without Snuffles. Gary, glaring at Collin, takes his place on the couch, looking him over.)
You get kicks out of hurting things that are smaller than you…don’t ya? A nice change…huh?
Collin:
Sir, I apologize. I honestly didn’t see it! You were yelling at me, and I just…sorta…walked right into it.
Gary:
Uh-huh. More of trampled it.
(Still looking him over)
Collin:
Do you mind if I use your restroom? I seem to be bleeding pretty bad.
Gary:
(Coming over to “inspect”) Eh. It’s not too bad. (Menacingly, almost threateningly) One time, I broke a man’s jaw clean off his face. Blood spurted for miles.
(Collin doesn’t know what to say.)
Gary:
Well? Aren’t you gonna ask why I did it?
Collin:
Did what?
Gary:
Mutilated the man….go on. Ask!
Collin:
(Uneasy) Alright…uh…Why did you plow a man’s jaw off?
Gary:
(After a pause with his eyes narrowed) He tried to kill one of my cats.
Collin:
(Quickly) Uh, sir? Really, is there a bathroom nearby that I can just hurry into? I’m just gonna…uh, clean this up. If that’s alright with you….uh…sir
Gary:
(Pause. Eyes still narrowed) Down to hall, to your left
(Collin uneasily limps past Gary, and down the hall. Gary kneels down to examine the spot where Collin was standing)
Gary:
Blood. All over my carpet. Inconsiderate whiner! Almost kills Snuffles, vandalizes my home, and then asks to use my facilities? He’s slowly trying to take over alright…trying to make his mark…trying to establish the new leader of this house. Well, it’s not going to work. Not while I’m still alive…(Gary is still muttering as he begins to exit upstairs.) Wuss boy…thinks he can take over? Psh…Whiners never win….I’ll show him who rules here….
(There is a pause as we watch Gary retreat upstairs, unsure of his motives. Shortly after, the door down the hall opens, and Collin timidly steps out. His shin bandaged.)
Collin:
Sir? I hope you don’t mind…but I used some of your bandages. It wasn’t that big of a cut, but it was deep. Suppose I deserved it though…huh? (Laughs uneasily at himself) Are you still here? Sir?
Gary:
(From upstairs) I’m changing! I got something on my shirt…I think it’s some dirt that YOU dragged in the house. Thanks a lot. This was my favorite outfit too…I’ll be down in just a minute. DON’T touch anything.
(Collin uneasily makes his way to the couch. Sitting for a while, he picks up the television remote and turns it on. Blasting screaming noise shoot through the entire house. Terrified, he hurries and clicks it off)
Gary:
(Still from upstairs) Collin? What the HELL are you doing down there?!?! Can’t you just follow directions for five seconds? That’s it. I’m coming down. I’m almost done.
(The telephone rings, and Collin tenses up, wide-eyed. He lets it ring, afraid to touch anything. After several rings, Gary is heard from the top of the stairs.)
Gary:
Well Boy?! Are you going to get that? Or are you just going to prove I’m right by being 100% COMPLETELY worthless?!
(Collin begins to stand up to get it, but by the time he does, the answering machine has started)
Gary:
Let the machine get it now…
(Brooklyn’s voice is heard on the recorder, and Collin moves to grab the phone anyway. Gary, who seems to have eyes everywhere, calls out again.)
Gary:
I SAID LEAVE IT!
Brooklyn:
Hey Dad, It’s Brooklyn. I’m just calling to say that things are pretty crazy here at the store. I’ve got everything I needed, but there’s only one cashier, and five bazillion people in line. (We hear Brooklyn calling out to the line) Is there anyway we can hurry it up a little bit? I have things to do! Ah crap. You don’t have to get rid of your entire penny collection at this store!!! Bloody… (She gets back on the phone.) I’ll be home soon. Collin should be there within the next half hour…nothing will be done. I wish Mom would’ve let me know that she wouldn’t have been able to get anything sooner…this is going to be so chaotic…I’ll see you soon. Bye. (Again, we hear her calling out to the customers.) Are you serious?! THIS IS AN EXPRESS LANE!!! No, 5 cans of the same thing do not count as one item…are you completely brainless?! That’s it. I’m moving in front of all you losers. You don’t even DESERVE a place in line. What?! You think attacking me with that bread loaf is going to do anything? Well look at this….FROZEN STEAK! THAT’S RIGHT! THIS IS GOING TO HURT YOU A LOT MORE THAN YOUR BREAD WILL HURT ME… DIE YOU SON OF A—(The answering machine clicks off)
(Gary starts coming down the stairs. He is dressed completely different from when we’ve last seen him. He’s wearing dark shades, a “Bad to the Bone” T-Shirt, black leather jacket, and black leather pants. Collin is stunned.)
Gary:
I just thought I’d slip into something more comfortable after you ruined my other set of clothes. This is what I usually wear. I mean…what WE usually wear…in my big, buff-man biker group. We call ourselves the…uh….ummm….uh
Collin:
The what?
Gary:
I mean…the biker group….uh…the one that I’m in…we call ourselves, the… (really struggling now) We call ourselves…the...Big…Muscley…Biker…Buff Man…Group. (Pause. Then he adds) Of the World.
Collin:
(Slowly) Big…Muscley…
Gary:
(Cutting him off) I don’t expect you to understand it. Not many folk do. It’s more symbolism. Er..more of a spiritual name than anything else. (Collin begins to scratch at his leg) …Of the great…biker…uh….gods. What’s wrong boy?! Stop it! You’re getting dead skin cells all over my floor. Stop it!
Collin:
I’m so sorry…it’s…I thought Brooklyn would have told you…I’m allergic to cats. I think some hair got on my leg…it’s just really irritating.
Gary:
You just keep having to complain…don’t you?! You keep having to have problems with everything in my home…is that right?
Collin:
No….I….
Gary:
You go around, Mr. Bigshot, stealing my daughter. Fine. You come into my home, and bleed all over my floor. Fine. But you insult my Kitties? The TRUE loves of my life?! YOU CROSSED A LINE BOY!!!
Collin:
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. No, I love this intense rash gnawing on my leg. It actually sort of…tickles.
Gary:
(Glaring) Alright then.
(They sit in uncomfortable silence for a while. Each fidgeting in turn.)
Collin:
So…uh…how many cats DO you have? I saw quite a few out on the lawn. They all yours?
Gary:
Yeah.
Collin:
Huh. That’s why I missed the one I stepped on. I was trying to avoid 6 others.
Gary:
Is this your idea of a conversation starter? Or are you a blameshifter? Are you blameshifting?! ARE YOU PUTTING YOUR OWN STUPID LOW-QUALITY LOCOMOTION SKILLS ON MY SHOULDERS?!
Collin:
No, no. I assure you, it was a conversation starter. (Silence) How many exactly DO you have?
Gary:
13
Collin:
Wow. Are you…serious? That’s insane.
Gary:
Yeah, I would have liked to have more, but Dawn put a limit on it after rats started showin’ up everywhere without their heads. After she found one on her pillow late at night, she drew the line.
(Pause)
Yep. Got them back in the day when I was still livin’ alone. A bachelor. Didn’t need no one else but my kitties. They were the first loves of my life. Still are. While other men my age were goin’ out on dates, heading to parties, and getting drunk, I would stay at home… (His tone grows softer) All I needed was a piece of string and my cats. The way they would bat at it…the way they would nestle against my shoulder when I feel asleep…the way they trusted me so…(He stops short)Ahem. Course, back in the day, cats were very manly…..umm…the number of cats you had showed off how…uh…manly you were. Manly…I was pretty tough to beat back then. I had my Muscle-Man Biker Group of the World, and a whole lot-a cats. I was the equivalent to a Greek GOD back in my day. Oh yeah. The memories. The manly memories. Let me get some of my favorites…
Collin:
Of your cats? Sir…I apologize, but I’m so allergic to your animals, that I really would opt NOT to see them. (Gary can only glare at Collin) Fine. I’ll see them. I’d like to see them. (More glares) Alright, I’d LOVE to see them.
Gary:
(Almost like an excited schoolboy) You and I might get along better than I thought boy….Wait here…Just a sec…(Gary gets up, and searches the rooms of the house, still calling over to Collin) Brooklyn locked ‘em all away for when you came. ‘Didn’t want ya catching a reaction’ she said…Psh. What do girls know…huh? (Collin smiles weakly as Gary opens a basement door.) Ah. Here’s one…This here’s Carnivore. He’s never been the friendly type…but I’m sure you and he will hit it right off…Come here! Collin, he’s not the one to come out and greet strangers….you have to make at least some SORT of effort. Come here!
(Collin slowly gets up, and joins Gary at the closet door, of which we can only see a black opening.)
Collin:
Sir, this isn’t the best idea…I don’t get along with cats….
Gary:
Ah come on…Carnivore wouldn’t hurt a fly. See? There he is. In that corner…by the stair rail. Do you see him? See his eyes glowin’ at ya? That means he likes you. Go on. Pet his fur. I ain’t gonna turn on no lights. It’ll scare him.
(Collin slowly enters the black closet with a pained look on his face. We hear a violent hissing. Gary shouts: “No Collin! Don’t step there! That’s his tail! DAMMIT COLLIN!!!” A bloodcurdling scream is heard along with the scratching, hissing, and yowling of the cat. The sound of a body thumping down a long flight of stairs is heard. Silence. Gary runs from the closet, shutting the door, resting his back against it breathing heavy. He crosses over, and for a moment we think he’s going to call an ambulance. But he passes the phone, and flops down on the couch. He casually flips on the television with a slight grin on his face. Horror movie sounds fill the room. Moments later, Brooklyn storms in through the door, covered in food from a recent “fight.” She runs past Gary into the kitchen.)
Brooklyn:
Dad, you haven’t heard from Collin have you? Is he here?
Gary:
No. Uh..he hasn’t shown up yet. Maybe his flight was delayed?
Brooklyn:
Yeah. Maybe. At least that’ll give me time to get this started.
Gary:
(His eyes transfixed on his horror movie) Yes, Mr. Chainsaw Man. I know now too, the sweet, sweet taste of victory. I know how you’re feeling right now. Like you, I’ve won.
Friendship Story (Full of Inside Jokes)
This is the life and times of Morgan and Melissa, more commonly known as MeliMorg.
They met one glorious Summer during a wonderful production of Grease. Many people did not accept Melissa, but Morgan seemed to tolerate her fairly well. However, everyone found that Melissa had exceptional talent with a "fog machine." She would create misty effects, and it would look like steam would rise from nowhere. Until this day, no one EVER knew the mystery of the "Beauty Schol Dropout" Kick-ass special effects. Morgan admired Melissa's extreme talent, and how she handled the smoke machine so well.
In fact, Morgan was so envious of Melissa's skill that she came to Tuacahn to learn from this great "master." From this grew a friendship and bond so strong.
The beginning of the year was filled with joy, glee, and fun movie nights.
Like the time Melissa and her wonderful friend Trevor came to Morgan's humble abode for a motion picture session, and decided on the movie "May." This movie was so disturbing that they turned to each other for mental support, and the bond was only strengthened.
Things were still bright and happy for the two friends, and they took a journey down to Cedar City to watch a production filled with Christmas Joy and Wonder. There was a backdrop filled with sparkly lights that filled Melissa with awe, for she had such a strong connection to technical theatre "magic tricks." Trying to share her enthusiasm, Melissa kept clutching on to Morgan, "Look, do you see? DO YOU SEE? DAMNIT MORGAN! LOOK AT THE SPARKLES!"
Morgan did not seem to share the same glee, but then again, tables were turned on the drive home when Morgan experienced her first snowfall. Wyoming girl Melissa was not impressed with the measly amount of snowflakes falling from the sky, but at least PRETENDED to be happy for her glorious friend. Something that Morgan didn't do for Melissa at the Christmas Production. (There's no bitter feelings there though, of course.) They stopped at a rest stop so Melissa could take a picture of Morgan in her first snowfall. However, Melissa's honey-mustard sauce she had previously left on the dashboard ruined the shot. Oops.
However, days and months past, and Morgan and Melissa were dealing with so many people who kept driving them insane. Slowly, they both began to lose the urge to live. Their life forces were being sucked out, and they had given up on life.
The fact that they both felt similar feelings of intense hatred towards the world still connected them even further. At least they both knew that they could no longer live anymore, and that they were to be buried together...in one tomb, and would find each other in a hundred lifetimes after the world exploded, and they would be the only 2 people left, along with 10 or so hot, studly Chipendale men for breeding purposes, and who would live in caves so they would not bother Melissa and Morgan who would reign together in the world above.
The End.
They met one glorious Summer during a wonderful production of Grease. Many people did not accept Melissa, but Morgan seemed to tolerate her fairly well. However, everyone found that Melissa had exceptional talent with a "fog machine." She would create misty effects, and it would look like steam would rise from nowhere. Until this day, no one EVER knew the mystery of the "Beauty Schol Dropout" Kick-ass special effects. Morgan admired Melissa's extreme talent, and how she handled the smoke machine so well.
In fact, Morgan was so envious of Melissa's skill that she came to Tuacahn to learn from this great "master." From this grew a friendship and bond so strong.
The beginning of the year was filled with joy, glee, and fun movie nights.
Like the time Melissa and her wonderful friend Trevor came to Morgan's humble abode for a motion picture session, and decided on the movie "May." This movie was so disturbing that they turned to each other for mental support, and the bond was only strengthened.
Things were still bright and happy for the two friends, and they took a journey down to Cedar City to watch a production filled with Christmas Joy and Wonder. There was a backdrop filled with sparkly lights that filled Melissa with awe, for she had such a strong connection to technical theatre "magic tricks." Trying to share her enthusiasm, Melissa kept clutching on to Morgan, "Look, do you see? DO YOU SEE? DAMNIT MORGAN! LOOK AT THE SPARKLES!"
Morgan did not seem to share the same glee, but then again, tables were turned on the drive home when Morgan experienced her first snowfall. Wyoming girl Melissa was not impressed with the measly amount of snowflakes falling from the sky, but at least PRETENDED to be happy for her glorious friend. Something that Morgan didn't do for Melissa at the Christmas Production. (There's no bitter feelings there though, of course.) They stopped at a rest stop so Melissa could take a picture of Morgan in her first snowfall. However, Melissa's honey-mustard sauce she had previously left on the dashboard ruined the shot. Oops.
However, days and months past, and Morgan and Melissa were dealing with so many people who kept driving them insane. Slowly, they both began to lose the urge to live. Their life forces were being sucked out, and they had given up on life.
The fact that they both felt similar feelings of intense hatred towards the world still connected them even further. At least they both knew that they could no longer live anymore, and that they were to be buried together...in one tomb, and would find each other in a hundred lifetimes after the world exploded, and they would be the only 2 people left, along with 10 or so hot, studly Chipendale men for breeding purposes, and who would live in caves so they would not bother Melissa and Morgan who would reign together in the world above.
The End.
Auabduwali: A Middle Eastern Musical Synopsis
Auabduwali
Set in the mountainous region of Lebanon, Auabduwali and his family enjoyed a calm, peaceful life in a hut by the Mediterranean Sea. Auabduwali is content with the simple life he and his family live, and is overjoyed at the approaching date of his sister Bahija’s wedding ceremony to wealthy Fuwaad. In a joyous praise, Auabduwali opens the show by singing to Allah his overwhelming thankfulness regarding the wellbeing of his family (Praise Allah) in which he is joined by the members of his family, preparing for the ecstatic day in which is sister will be united with another. Their exuberance, however, is soon cut short after they hear about the appalling Lebanon War, in which Auabduwali’s father, Jawara, is sent to aid in the fight. Auabduwali is eager to help win the war, but Jawara forbids him to go, and explains to Auabduwali that he is too inexperienced to fight in the war, and that he must stay and be the protector of his family and hut, (Too Young to Blow Up An Israelite.)
Set in the mountainous region of Lebanon, Auabduwali and his family enjoyed a calm, peaceful life in a hut by the Mediterranean Sea. Auabduwali is content with the simple life he and his family live, and is overjoyed at the approaching date of his sister Bahija’s wedding ceremony to wealthy Fuwaad. In a joyous praise, Auabduwali opens the show by singing to Allah his overwhelming thankfulness regarding the wellbeing of his family (Praise Allah) in which he is joined by the members of his family, preparing for the ecstatic day in which is sister will be united with another. Their exuberance, however, is soon cut short after they hear about the appalling Lebanon War, in which Auabduwali’s father, Jawara, is sent to aid in the fight. Auabduwali is eager to help win the war, but Jawara forbids him to go, and explains to Auabduwali that he is too inexperienced to fight in the war, and that he must stay and be the protector of his family and hut, (Too Young to Blow Up An Israelite.)
After his father’s departure, Auabduwali fulfills his manly duties at the hut, but soon grows restless with thoughts of the ongoing war. Auabduwali still wishes to join Jawara at his side, and refuses to pay attention to chores or his family, distracted by thoughts of battle. Day after day, Auabduwali can think of nothing else, and finds himself at the sea’s edge, gazing into the horizon (If I Only Had a Hand Grenade.) After his thoughts, Auabduwali realizes that he has been gone far too long from his hut, and rushes back. However, when he reaches home, he finds that the tiny hut had been ransacked by the Israelites, and his family’s torn remains scattered across the living area. Torn with anguish, and filled with guilt for not being around during the attack, Auabduwali vows that he will have revenge (If I Have to Rip Apart a Thousand Men) As he filters through the wreckage, his hatred and his need for revenge only grow, as he realizes he has nothing left, and realizes what his future along will hold, (All Alone by the Sea.)
Inspecting the area around his hut, he finds his faithful pet donkey Shabaka grazing close by. Crying with joy, Auabduwali runs toward the animal, grateful that something of importance to him is still left in the world. Auabduwali, along with his trusty donkey friend, sets of for Israel to aid his father now that there is nothing else to live for. Though the journey is long and tiring, Auabduwali is thankful for his donkey companion, who helps keep his spirits up. (My Inspiration, My Love, My Donkey.) The first act ends when Auabduwali stumbles across a humble Lebanon family, who is distressed to see Auabduwali and his current state.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The second act opens with Auabduwali who has recuperated very well at the humble Lebanon family’s home, and is now telling them of his horrifying past, (My Family in a Million Pieces.) Thanking them for the hospitality, Auabduwali tells them that his must go find his father so that he may aid in the war. Mounting Shabaka, Auabduwali rides off into the horizon, waving to his new friends. Soon, he reaches the Lebonan war camp. Desperately, he hunts through the many wounded soldiers, scouting out his father. He pleads with everyone about the whereabouts of his father Jawara, but no one seems to acknowledge his existence. Torn with grief, and frustration rising, Auabduwali lashes out at the men, begging them to tell him anything about his missing father; at least if he was even alive or dead. (Allah, Aid Me in My Search for Jawara.) Finally, a lone, wise, elderly Lebanion approaches Auabduwali with a gentle, but firm tone. He tells Auabduwali to turn around, go home. Putting up a fight, Auabduwali refuses to move until he hears about the whereabouts of his father. Giving in, the old man lays the awful truth on the young boy. He explains that he once knew Jawara, but he was a traitor. He is not the man his son thought he was, (Your Father is Half-Israelite) and that Jawara did not flee to aid the Lebonans, but to aid the other side. Filled with horror, Auabduwali cannot even begin to comprehend the rush of emotions he is feeling, (What is There to Live For?)
Blinded by rage and confusion, Auabduwali tears across the area, while the Isralites began to fire on the Lebonan camp. In a series of explosions, the entire camp is hit hard, and the blow is a fatal one. Slammed to the ground, Auabduwali looks to the heavens for guidance. Lost, confused, and alone, Auabduwali, in one final breath, prays to Allah for strength. (Allah, Take Me Home.)
Santa: An In-Depth Look
Who is Santa? Why does he do the things he does? Does he really exist? Yes, those are the questions concerning most youth in this country. The truth is that Santa was just some parent’s way of making their children behave. Sure, there are good parenting skills like: Breaking down in front of your children, begging and pleading with them, and just plain using the belt. Or, you can try the harder way: Teaching them honesty and loyalty, taking away privileges, and/or trying to throw some good morals on them, which just doesn’t seem to work. But nothing has ever worked as well as the good, old-fashioned: Bribery.
Many children have looked to the skies with excitement on Christmas Eve, because they have been “good.” While, in theory, they were extreme little demons who crashed everything in your entire household except for the priceless fruitcake which just wouldn’t break, even when smashed against the window. But as soon as the month of December comes out, the angel shines through, the Christmas List Novel comes out, and they are finally helping around the house with chores such as vacuuming the windows, sending the dog through the washer, and cleaning your favorite black leather jacket with gallons of bleach. Yes, the good in every child shimmers through that month. You take them to see Santa, and wait patiently while he/she announces that they had never did anything wrong in their life, always listened to Mommy, and swore that they had no idea how Daddy’s wallet got into the garbage disposal while the switch just happened to be on.
Christmas Day finally comes, the presents are unwrapped, and in just 30 minutes are strewn across the floor while you try to grab a cup of coffee without breaking your neck. The children then are grabbing and wringing each other’s necks again, and the help they promised you suddenly becomes void. Yes, in truth, Santa is a way to let you have one month off a year. To let your kids become half way decent in hope of a great Christmas. There are good parenting skills and bad ones.
You decide.
Many children have looked to the skies with excitement on Christmas Eve, because they have been “good.” While, in theory, they were extreme little demons who crashed everything in your entire household except for the priceless fruitcake which just wouldn’t break, even when smashed against the window. But as soon as the month of December comes out, the angel shines through, the Christmas List Novel comes out, and they are finally helping around the house with chores such as vacuuming the windows, sending the dog through the washer, and cleaning your favorite black leather jacket with gallons of bleach. Yes, the good in every child shimmers through that month. You take them to see Santa, and wait patiently while he/she announces that they had never did anything wrong in their life, always listened to Mommy, and swore that they had no idea how Daddy’s wallet got into the garbage disposal while the switch just happened to be on.
Christmas Day finally comes, the presents are unwrapped, and in just 30 minutes are strewn across the floor while you try to grab a cup of coffee without breaking your neck. The children then are grabbing and wringing each other’s necks again, and the help they promised you suddenly becomes void. Yes, in truth, Santa is a way to let you have one month off a year. To let your kids become half way decent in hope of a great Christmas. There are good parenting skills and bad ones.
You decide.
The Telemarkter's Worst Nightmare
Yes, I am proud to announce, this is me.
I once took sympathy on these people, because I, myself, have been in this position and it annoyed the hell out of me when people would screw with me. So, for a while, when I received a call from these friendly, monotone-speaking people, I would give them words of encouragement and hang up.
Yesterday, I just couldn't help myself. I was speaking to a man who sounded very attractive. He wanted to know if I was interested in a discount card and I said that I was. He went on a speech for a VERY long time. I think he was speaking very quickly for about 5 minutes. He asked me if that was correct, and I told him that I was sorry, but I wasn't paying attention. He started over. I kept interupting him with "How the weather was" over there, and he got a bit angry with me. He kept asking me to confirm that I was interested, I would follow through with this, and that I would apply for this card. I sounded very distracted, telling him "Sure, fine, whatever..."
I then, throughout his speech, began to hum. I hummed the entire time, until I was asked to confirm, which I said, Fine, Whatever...
Then, for the final touch, I must have been on the phone for 20 minutes.... He was beginning to tell me thank you for my time, and that he just had one final question to ask me. I interupted: Oh...I'm sorry, did you need someone who lived here? I'm just visiting...*Humming continues* There is a long, awkward silence. You see, in this business, you could get in alot of trouble for hanging up on the "customer". He then, very angrily told me I wasn't "Right in the head" and that he'll call back at a later time.
I should get his ass fired. I mean...the NERVE of that guy! Here I am, trying to do the best I can do....and he pulls a stunt like that.
Ah well. What goes around comes around I guess. Maybe he'll get hit by a car.
I noticed that whenever I begin to find the motivation to take calls from telemarketers, there seem to be less and less of them.
Maybe my calls make them feel fulfilled and they strive for a better career. I'm a role model!
Who Is That Running Through The McDonald's Drive-Thru?
Well yesterday was a whole bunch of fun that I haven't had in a long while.
Alyssa, Cynthia, and I decided to go get something to eat. Cynthia didn't have to come back to the school, but Lyss and I had to come back for a concert later that night.
After hours of waiting in the parking lot to see if other people would join us, we ended up leaving.
We all went to McDonalds, and began to call people's cell phones and flood their answering machines with creepy and stupid messages. Such as: Reading the menu. Making noises into the phone....and just plain being stupid. Ah what fun it was.
Then we actually had a serious conversation about school, politics, and history. It was quite interesting.
Alyssa wanted to go up and get a shake. While she was standing in line, we would make faces at her. It turned out everybody in the ENTIRE McDonald's restaurant SAW our faces BUT Alyssa. They thought we were insane.
Since Alyssa rarely looked over at our fun interaction, we decided to hide. We waited for her to completely turn around, and then we totally ran and almost slammed into so many people trying to make it around the corner where she couldn't see us.
We sat there...giggling and feeling extremely pleased with ourselves, until...
Alyssa...
Just........
Didn't.....
Come.....
Back......
Taking a chance at peeking around the corner, we saw that she had joined another Tuacahn group (Trent, Josh, and Andrew)
We were in shock.
We ended up joining her reluctantly....holding a grudge.
Pretty soon the time got to be late, and we had to drop Cynth Cynth off at home.
Cynthia and I began to walk out of the building, and Alyssa slowly followed after us. We thought we'd be fun, and hide around the cars.
Alyssa doesn't know how to play, because when she couldn't find us, she just went back inside.
So Cynthia and I decided to run around the building, and meet her at the other window. (We were so dumb)
We forgot there was a packed drive-thru, and ended up jogging along next to cars as the people inside looked at us like we were insane.
The McDonald's workers don't know how to play along either.
They asked Lyss: "Are you looking for your friends?"
"Yes."
"They're outside. Running around the building."
Psh. They ruined our fun.
Before we left, we thought we'd decorate Josh's truck (Parked right beside us)
We took shirts, hung them as flags, and other random things, placing them under windshield wipers, and draping things from the truck.
When I turned around, I was surprised to see that they were all by the door, watching us in shock.
"RUUUUUUUUUUUN!"
We hurried up, got in the car, and slammed the doors. In a panic, I scrambled and locked all the doors. Seconds later, Andrew was on top of the car, and everyone else was trying to get in.
I wonder what all the people at the drive-thru thought.
Cynthia and I will probably never be able to go into McDonalds again.
The Drive-Thru Chronicles
Dear Friends,
It is time for another story of love and joy to spread light into your life.
It is time for....
THE DRIVE-THRU CHRONICLES....
*Insert Creepy Horror Movie Music Here* -------->
What exactly ARE the Drive-Thru Chronicles? They are the first of many true and terrifying stories that make human beings rue the day they EVER decided to work fast food.
The first of these many stories (And those yet to come) starts on a sunny and bright Monday afternoon. Doug, Cynthia and I were driving the long road back from town, and decided to stop at Arctic Circle for ice cream.
We took a long time to decide what we wanted...and finally ordered 3 cones. In my piddly little stick-shift car, we lurched up to the window.
The guy opened the glass, and took the money. Seeing that it was still open, I staged a loud conversation that was meant to be private...but was still easy to overhear.
"Do you think he's hot Doug? I think he's hot....Do YOU? Would you like to makeout with him? Let me ask....No.... really....I'll ask him if he will....."
All of a sudden, this poor man (Now with bulging eyes) SLAMS the window shut.
When our ice cream was ready....and the window opened... we found that he was so terrified of us that he had ANOTHER worker give us our food.
We then squealed off into the distance. BAHAHAHAHA.
Drive-Thru Experience Number 2
It again was a beautiful, sunny afternoon. Emily Richardson, Cynthia, and I had just finished swimming, and went to go pick up a pizza.
The decision was made to get some more ice cream! From... ARCTIC CIRCLE! We again took a long time to answer the guy at the speaker, and again ordered cones.
When we turned around the corner, we found that there were alot of cars in line. Patiently, we waited. UNTIL.... UNTIL we found that the guy leaning out the window was the SAME guy who handed us cones the night before AFTER we freaked out his friend.
He noticed us, and each time he helped another car, he would look over.
Finally, it was our turn. It was a little awkward at first, but we ended up paying him, and receiving the ice cream.
When it was time for our change to be handed to us.... I pulled out a pair of gloves from the dashboard (We had put them there earlier...JUST for this.)
He stood there for a long time while I told him to wait. "Wait just a second...Hold on....I'm sorry....."
Emily and Cynthia just played along, and put their heads in their hands....shaking them.
"Melissa...I thought you got over this..."
"I know...I just need to...one more time...."
The glove didn't go on as well as I hoped, so I ended up holding out a clawed hand with the glove halfway hanging off, and the guy had a difficult time dumping the change into my hooked hand.
We again squealed off into the distance....laughing hysterically. Like this:
BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!
Drive-Thru Experiences 3 and 4
Well, for the 3rd day in a row, Cynthia and I decided to go meet our friends at Arctic Circle. We had Cynthia's host mom's daugher's son with us (Say THAT 3 times fast.)
We told him we were getting him an ice cream cone, and he was thrilled. Again, at the drive-thru, we took a long time to order. After a few minutes, we told her we wanted one cone. She was expecting a HUGE order due to the time we took....so when we ordered one cone, we could tell she was frusterated.
We pulled up to the window. Cynthia had exact change... but I decided to have more fun than that.
She handed me the money, and the woman held out her hand for it. I pretended that Cynthia had only given me a quarter, and gave it to the woman. Then I kept going to Cynthia's hand...and we both made a big deal of picking through the coins, and finding the ones we wanted to give her.
We could tell she was angry, and she yanked her hand back in once we were finished fishing for change.
Then it was on to Arby's. We wanted shakes. Arctic Circle has expensive shakes. So we drive down the road a little bit, and pull into the drive-thru.
The lady over the headset told us to wait. I was looking over the menu, and had a loud conversation about how high the prices were. The shakes were about $1 more than the ones in Washington. So I had an issue with it.
Cynthia made a comment about $5 for a salad being ridiculous. After a while I said: "Maybe she forgot about us..."
The lady over the intercom snapped: "I haven't....."
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHH!
Finally, we make our order, and pull up to the window. She hands us the shakes, and I give her my debit card. She slams the window shut....and we sit there.
She opens it back up, and hands me a clipboard with my card, receipt, and one for me to sign on it. She hands it out, and again I tell her to wait. I grab a napkin, and clamp the board in it, wiping it as I take it. Then I grab the pen she gives me with a napkin, and wipe it thoroughly before I sign anything.
When I hand it back to her, she tells me to wait, and grabs it with her apron.
I was in shock. What a jerk!!!!
There were only a few possible explanations of why she did that.
A) She though, due to my actions, that I had a deadly disease, and she was afraid of catching it....
B) She was playing along....sorta....trying to show me up
C) She was being a sarcastic jerk.
I guess I shouldn't take it so personally, because I was an awful customer....But STILL. STILL! What if I DID have a life-threatening illness? She would have sent me into a spiral of severe depression!
Jerk....
An Angry Retaliation to Stupid Email Forwards
The Laundry Dweller
Oh My Gosh Guys....This is soooo scary! And TRUE!
Girl: Woah...I think I'm going to go do my laundry. Wait...I've never done it before...and I don't know how!!!
Boy: Here honey...let me help you. First, you seperate your colors from your socks....and then you take out everything that doesn't have sleeves...and so on.
Girl: Oh...I get it! *Slaps forehead*
Boy: It's OK...*Hugs*
The next few hours are spent in hugging, kissing, and tears.
Girl: Now what?
Boy: Well, now that we have everything sorted by alphabetical what-not...it's time to put it in the washer!
Girl: *Suddenly alert* I don't know if I can...
Boy: Yes, Yes you can...I'm here for you.
Girl: No...*crying now* I can't...
Boy: Why? *Reassuring Hug* Really, I'm here to help you...Let's do it.
Girl: It's just...I've never done it before...
Boy: Oh...it's your first time? Well, I promise I'll help you...gently.
Girl: OK....It's just...I'm not sure if I'm ready....
Boy: *Slightly irritated* Come on...If you loved me, you'd do it.
Girl: *Pause* Alright.
As soon as the Girl opens the washer lid, a crazed homicidal lunatic (The ones that you normally find living in washers) Leaps out, and drags the girl to the soapy, hellish depths.
Guys...if you don' repost this to 19 million people in 3.4 seconds, the same thing will happen to you!
I care for you all...be careful.
Oh My Gosh Guys....This is soooo scary! And TRUE!
Girl: Woah...I think I'm going to go do my laundry. Wait...I've never done it before...and I don't know how!!!
Boy: Here honey...let me help you. First, you seperate your colors from your socks....and then you take out everything that doesn't have sleeves...and so on.
Girl: Oh...I get it! *Slaps forehead*
Boy: It's OK...*Hugs*
The next few hours are spent in hugging, kissing, and tears.
Girl: Now what?
Boy: Well, now that we have everything sorted by alphabetical what-not...it's time to put it in the washer!
Girl: *Suddenly alert* I don't know if I can...
Boy: Yes, Yes you can...I'm here for you.
Girl: No...*crying now* I can't...
Boy: Why? *Reassuring Hug* Really, I'm here to help you...Let's do it.
Girl: It's just...I've never done it before...
Boy: Oh...it's your first time? Well, I promise I'll help you...gently.
Girl: OK....It's just...I'm not sure if I'm ready....
Boy: *Slightly irritated* Come on...If you loved me, you'd do it.
Girl: *Pause* Alright.
As soon as the Girl opens the washer lid, a crazed homicidal lunatic (The ones that you normally find living in washers) Leaps out, and drags the girl to the soapy, hellish depths.
Guys...if you don' repost this to 19 million people in 3.4 seconds, the same thing will happen to you!
I care for you all...be careful.
It Must Be An Omen...
Well, something terrible has happened.
TERRIBLE!
I stopped at the mall before I had to finish last minute errands before school started again.
Walking through the parking lot to get back to my car, I saw a mungo raven on a vehicle I was passing.
It had a piece of ice in its death beak.
When I walked past it, it flapped its mighty wings, and soared ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE DAMN PARKING LOT TO LAND ON MY CAR!
Now, this wasn't a short journey.
This was all the way across the parking lot.
My car was parked by itself.
BY ITSELF!
Bloody Hell.
And this beast soared over all the possible landing spots, and ended up on the roof of MY car.
Great.
It dropped the piece of ice on the roof, crapped all over my car, and then soared away.
Laughing.
This morning, I woke up late, and while I was driving, the car died. AGAIN.
I had to pop the hood to get it to start again.
Such fun.
Such fun.
GAHGAHGAHGHAGHAH.
There was a truck in the parking lot today, and it had snow in it.
SNOW!
I was so excited. Trevor and I decided to have a fun, youthful snowball fight.
Everything went joyously, and I grabbed a ton of snow to stuff down his shirt.
It was going to be funny.
FUNNY!
But he freaked out and ran around the truck like a girl.
Then he chucked a freaking ice ball at my eye.
OW!
I saw spots, and then my entire left eye watered so much I looked like I had been sobbing for hours.
With only half of my face.
The owners of the truck (Some tourists) came down and asked us if we were messing with the snow in the back.
"Nooooooo.....uh...you have snow in your truck?"
Awkward.
They left.
I went to open the door to my car, and found I didn't have my keys.
Going up to the school, I searched EVERYWHERE, remembering a little later that I had left them at the car already.
Oops.
So now I have a disease in my eye from filthy snow.
The hood of my car is disgusting, and I haven't cleaned it yet because I'm lazy.
And I'm afraid I'm going to end up dying one of these days because of my near-exploding car.
Such fun!
You're all invited to my funeral by the way.
Whenever it happens.
Probably within the next couple days.
Toodles!
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Gregory
He leaned casually against the bar, sipping a beer and looking across the crowded dance floor. He had been at the popular nightclub for only an hour or so, and had at least fifteen or more girls take an interest in him. This wasn't new to him; he was gorgeous, and he knew it. His wavy blond hair, muscular arms, tall frame, and dazzling smile always drew extreme attention, no matter where he was.
After about another half hour of "scanning", he spotted her. She was sitting further down the counter with long red hair cascading down her back that contrasted beautifully against her low cut black dress. This was definitely a woman worthy of his time, and he eagerly pushed his way through the crowd. He was stopped several times by girls who brushed close against him, grabbing his strong arms and trying to pull him out to dance, but he could not be sueded. With his size it was easy to shake them off, and in moments he stood before his dream woman. Her large green eyes met his, and she smiled. For the first time in a long while, he felt his heart skip a beat.
There was a truly brilliant line he used a few times before, but only in the most extreme cases. This was definitely one of those times. Taking a deep breath, he raised his baby blue eyes to meet hers.
"Hi, I'm new in town, and I seem to be lost..."
"Oh?" Her smooth, silky voice caused the hair on his arm to stand on end.
"I was wondering if you could help me with some directions..."
'That's it,' he thought. 'This is in the bag. Pause for effect...pause for effect...'
"Yes? And where would that be?"
'Get ready...' he told himself...'Get ready...and BAM!'
Leaning in close, his mouth brushed against her ear. "Your apartment."
She sat back and looked at him with a smile playing across her lips.
"You can't be serious, can you? Did you just use that?"
'Uh-oh...panic..." he thought. 'This isn't how it's supposed to be. She's supposed to be smitten...'
"You're cute, you know that?" she laughed.
"I know. Many women think so. I've been told that on numerous occasions, however I like to think of myself as God's gift to women."
Her laugh faltered a bit, but her eyes still sparkled.
"You have a very interesting sense of humor. I like it. What's your name?"
"Gregory. Yours?"
"Rebecca."
"Well Rebecca, it was nice meeting you, but I think I have to go now."
"Really? Why?"
"You see, I fell for you pretty hard, and am on my way to my apartment for a band-aid."
She laughed, and again he felt his heart jump.
"Well, I feel partly responsible then. I think I should go with you to help out. I feel terrible."
Within minutes they were in his car, both of them laughing and joking. Soon after, they arrived at his apartment. Like a gentleman, he held the door open for her, and she flashed him another dazzling smile as she stepped inside.
With more than a few seconds look, however, it fell. Glass bowls glittered throughout the entire room; there must have been at least sixty in the living room alone.
"I see you've met my collection of fish...they're my children. They're the only ones that understand me in this cruel, harsh, cold world filled with despair."
"I...see..." she was shocked, and millions of second thoughts ran through her mind.
He walked over to one of the bowls, and put his cheek up against it.
"This one is my favorite. This is Balthazar the Beta. He's done so much for me. I don't know where I would have been without him." He stroked the glass for a few seconds, and looked up. "Why don't we have a seat on the couch? I'd like to get to know you better."
Reluctantly, she made her way over to the love seat he was pointing to, and he sat down beside her. He was about to make conversation when the phone began to ring. Irritated, he looked over at it with a scowl. "Just let the answering machine pick it up. It'll be fine."
"Hi, you've reached Greg, you know what to do. Now what do I...Mom? Mom, what button do I push now? Yes I've recorded what I want...Yes... Mom! I'm not an idiot! I always feel your cold stare judging me! Just tell me how to turn off the fu--" BEEP.
"Gregory? This is Mommy. How many times have I told you to change that damn machine? What will people think? You're destroying the reputation of this family--"
Angrily, Gregory got up, grabbing the phone from its hook.
"Mom? Hi, Mom, I'm busy. What? No, of course I want to talk to you. No, I know you brought me into this world, and I love you for it. Words cannot even begin to describe my thanks; I just have company over. I don't think that company is more important than you! Mom! Well, if you told me what button to push, we wouldn't have this problem. I understand it needs to be changed...but... You're coming tomorrow? Great. Balthazar has really missed you. No, I'm serious. He's quite depressed lately. Yes, the vet didn't really know what to do...stupid man. I'm thinking of grinding depressant pills in with his fish pellets. Yeah, he'll probably feel better. You're coming tomorrow too, so his condition will greatly improve..."
She sat on the couch in shock. After he got off the phone, she would tell him that she forgot about an appointment she had the next day, and that she had to go. About 10 minutes passed, and finally he hung up the phone with a smile.
"I'm so excited. My mother is coming tomorrow, and I can't wait for you to meet her."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm in love with you Rebecca. From the brief moment I saw you at the bar, I knew we were meant to be together forever. I think you're beautiful, and I know you probably can't resist my hot studly body. We're perfect for another. Think of the beautiful children we will have...they will be widely accepted by society."
"I'm sorry...I have to go."
"I was afraid of this. You don't feel the same way, do you? How can you not? How can you resist my buff body and awe-inspiring features?" Instantly, he slammed his head down on the table, and she gasped in shock.
"There is no reason to live anymore!" he howled as he sprang from the couch and into the kitchen. Cautiously, she followed, and found him tearing the contents from the fridge and flinging them across the floor, included all the shelves inside.
"What are you doing?" she shrieked.
"Throughout all my life, all I have known is cold despair, and icy hearts. I can't live like this anymore. I will end my life as I have lived it...with the aid of the chilling frost that has haunted me from birth." Within moments, he was crawling into the empty fridge, and as soon as he was inside he pulled the door shut.
"Goodbye Rebecca. Please remember me, and how you caused my untimely suicide."
As soon as he was out of view Rebecca took her chance to bolt, and ran to the door. It was locked. She tried the deadbolt and the smaller lock below it, but the door was jammed shut. In her horror, she heard the fridge open and Gregory fall out to the floor.
"GAHGAGHAG! It's soooo coooooold in there!" His whine echoed throughout the house, and in a panic Rebecca bolted down a stairway, hoping to hide from him until she could figure out a way to escape.
It was dark in the basement, and she stumbled across several stacked boxes knocking them over. The loud footsteps overhead stopped, then resumed running toward the direction of the crash. Quickly, she hid herself in a dark corner and held her breath. Moments later, she could hear him thumping and falling down the stairs.
"Rebecca!" a wild howl escaped his lips. "Rebecca! Look!" She peered out, squinting her eyes to see what he wanted to show her. His shoulders were heaving, and in each hand he held a celery stalk and a tomatoe. "Look Rebecca... When I caught the beauty of how well these went with each other, I realized I couldn't give up on you. We go together like celery and tomatoes. We match just like cole-slaw and potatoes. Our love can be as unified as brocolli and carrots... I need you Rebecca!" For a split second, he had turned his back and she took this opportunity to try and dart up the stairs.
She had almost reached the bottom stairs before he spun around. "Rebecca, there you are," his voice softened. "I'm ready to spend eternity with you," his hands caressed her face. Her head spun, and she had a hard time trying to steady the room before everything went black.
He leaned casually against the bar, sipping a beer and looking across the crowded dance floor. This was the 3rd time he had come back in just one night. He noticed a group of giggling girls in the corner, watching him and nervously looking away. He smiled, and began to push his way through the crowd.
After about another half hour of "scanning", he spotted her. She was sitting further down the counter with long red hair cascading down her back that contrasted beautifully against her low cut black dress. This was definitely a woman worthy of his time, and he eagerly pushed his way through the crowd. He was stopped several times by girls who brushed close against him, grabbing his strong arms and trying to pull him out to dance, but he could not be sueded. With his size it was easy to shake them off, and in moments he stood before his dream woman. Her large green eyes met his, and she smiled. For the first time in a long while, he felt his heart skip a beat.
There was a truly brilliant line he used a few times before, but only in the most extreme cases. This was definitely one of those times. Taking a deep breath, he raised his baby blue eyes to meet hers.
"Hi, I'm new in town, and I seem to be lost..."
"Oh?" Her smooth, silky voice caused the hair on his arm to stand on end.
"I was wondering if you could help me with some directions..."
'That's it,' he thought. 'This is in the bag. Pause for effect...pause for effect...'
"Yes? And where would that be?"
'Get ready...' he told himself...'Get ready...and BAM!'
Leaning in close, his mouth brushed against her ear. "Your apartment."
She sat back and looked at him with a smile playing across her lips.
"You can't be serious, can you? Did you just use that?"
'Uh-oh...panic..." he thought. 'This isn't how it's supposed to be. She's supposed to be smitten...'
"You're cute, you know that?" she laughed.
"I know. Many women think so. I've been told that on numerous occasions, however I like to think of myself as God's gift to women."
Her laugh faltered a bit, but her eyes still sparkled.
"You have a very interesting sense of humor. I like it. What's your name?"
"Gregory. Yours?"
"Rebecca."
"Well Rebecca, it was nice meeting you, but I think I have to go now."
"Really? Why?"
"You see, I fell for you pretty hard, and am on my way to my apartment for a band-aid."
She laughed, and again he felt his heart jump.
"Well, I feel partly responsible then. I think I should go with you to help out. I feel terrible."
Within minutes they were in his car, both of them laughing and joking. Soon after, they arrived at his apartment. Like a gentleman, he held the door open for her, and she flashed him another dazzling smile as she stepped inside.
With more than a few seconds look, however, it fell. Glass bowls glittered throughout the entire room; there must have been at least sixty in the living room alone.
"I see you've met my collection of fish...they're my children. They're the only ones that understand me in this cruel, harsh, cold world filled with despair."
"I...see..." she was shocked, and millions of second thoughts ran through her mind.
He walked over to one of the bowls, and put his cheek up against it.
"This one is my favorite. This is Balthazar the Beta. He's done so much for me. I don't know where I would have been without him." He stroked the glass for a few seconds, and looked up. "Why don't we have a seat on the couch? I'd like to get to know you better."
Reluctantly, she made her way over to the love seat he was pointing to, and he sat down beside her. He was about to make conversation when the phone began to ring. Irritated, he looked over at it with a scowl. "Just let the answering machine pick it up. It'll be fine."
"Hi, you've reached Greg, you know what to do. Now what do I...Mom? Mom, what button do I push now? Yes I've recorded what I want...Yes... Mom! I'm not an idiot! I always feel your cold stare judging me! Just tell me how to turn off the fu--" BEEP.
"Gregory? This is Mommy. How many times have I told you to change that damn machine? What will people think? You're destroying the reputation of this family--"
Angrily, Gregory got up, grabbing the phone from its hook.
"Mom? Hi, Mom, I'm busy. What? No, of course I want to talk to you. No, I know you brought me into this world, and I love you for it. Words cannot even begin to describe my thanks; I just have company over. I don't think that company is more important than you! Mom! Well, if you told me what button to push, we wouldn't have this problem. I understand it needs to be changed...but... You're coming tomorrow? Great. Balthazar has really missed you. No, I'm serious. He's quite depressed lately. Yes, the vet didn't really know what to do...stupid man. I'm thinking of grinding depressant pills in with his fish pellets. Yeah, he'll probably feel better. You're coming tomorrow too, so his condition will greatly improve..."
She sat on the couch in shock. After he got off the phone, she would tell him that she forgot about an appointment she had the next day, and that she had to go. About 10 minutes passed, and finally he hung up the phone with a smile.
"I'm so excited. My mother is coming tomorrow, and I can't wait for you to meet her."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm in love with you Rebecca. From the brief moment I saw you at the bar, I knew we were meant to be together forever. I think you're beautiful, and I know you probably can't resist my hot studly body. We're perfect for another. Think of the beautiful children we will have...they will be widely accepted by society."
"I'm sorry...I have to go."
"I was afraid of this. You don't feel the same way, do you? How can you not? How can you resist my buff body and awe-inspiring features?" Instantly, he slammed his head down on the table, and she gasped in shock.
"There is no reason to live anymore!" he howled as he sprang from the couch and into the kitchen. Cautiously, she followed, and found him tearing the contents from the fridge and flinging them across the floor, included all the shelves inside.
"What are you doing?" she shrieked.
"Throughout all my life, all I have known is cold despair, and icy hearts. I can't live like this anymore. I will end my life as I have lived it...with the aid of the chilling frost that has haunted me from birth." Within moments, he was crawling into the empty fridge, and as soon as he was inside he pulled the door shut.
"Goodbye Rebecca. Please remember me, and how you caused my untimely suicide."
As soon as he was out of view Rebecca took her chance to bolt, and ran to the door. It was locked. She tried the deadbolt and the smaller lock below it, but the door was jammed shut. In her horror, she heard the fridge open and Gregory fall out to the floor.
"GAHGAGHAG! It's soooo coooooold in there!" His whine echoed throughout the house, and in a panic Rebecca bolted down a stairway, hoping to hide from him until she could figure out a way to escape.
It was dark in the basement, and she stumbled across several stacked boxes knocking them over. The loud footsteps overhead stopped, then resumed running toward the direction of the crash. Quickly, she hid herself in a dark corner and held her breath. Moments later, she could hear him thumping and falling down the stairs.
"Rebecca!" a wild howl escaped his lips. "Rebecca! Look!" She peered out, squinting her eyes to see what he wanted to show her. His shoulders were heaving, and in each hand he held a celery stalk and a tomatoe. "Look Rebecca... When I caught the beauty of how well these went with each other, I realized I couldn't give up on you. We go together like celery and tomatoes. We match just like cole-slaw and potatoes. Our love can be as unified as brocolli and carrots... I need you Rebecca!" For a split second, he had turned his back and she took this opportunity to try and dart up the stairs.
She had almost reached the bottom stairs before he spun around. "Rebecca, there you are," his voice softened. "I'm ready to spend eternity with you," his hands caressed her face. Her head spun, and she had a hard time trying to steady the room before everything went black.
He leaned casually against the bar, sipping a beer and looking across the crowded dance floor. This was the 3rd time he had come back in just one night. He noticed a group of giggling girls in the corner, watching him and nervously looking away. He smiled, and began to push his way through the crowd.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Reborn
She felt as if she was reborn. Millions of butterflies swarmed and beat against her stomach, and her head was still spinning from the excitement. It had felt so wonderful; so exhilarating. All of her senses seemed to have heightened to a new, supernatural level as the whirling world around her produced even more vibrant, beautiful colors than ever before.
The once peeling, dull wooden walls of the old barn exploded into sudden perfection as the sight of it spun into her view. She wasn't aware her feet had even brought her to this place. All she could experience was the instant purity of the Earth surrounding her. Opening its large creaking door, she stepped inside. Sunlight sparkled through the shafts from the ceiling, and rusting rakes and shovels glittered as the playful rays spread across their surface.
A small bird swooped through the doors, fluttering and flittering across the peaceful, slumbering tractor in the corner. Its song reverberated to the top of the barn's high ceiling. The beautifully antique beams across it remained silent and still, appreciating its beauty, while a small spider scuttled across them in anticipation for a better view.
With a content sigh, she slumped down on a bale of hay. Each tiny prick against her skin reminded her of how good it was to be alive.
The once peeling, dull wooden walls of the old barn exploded into sudden perfection as the sight of it spun into her view. She wasn't aware her feet had even brought her to this place. All she could experience was the instant purity of the Earth surrounding her. Opening its large creaking door, she stepped inside. Sunlight sparkled through the shafts from the ceiling, and rusting rakes and shovels glittered as the playful rays spread across their surface.
A small bird swooped through the doors, fluttering and flittering across the peaceful, slumbering tractor in the corner. Its song reverberated to the top of the barn's high ceiling. The beautifully antique beams across it remained silent and still, appreciating its beauty, while a small spider scuttled across them in anticipation for a better view.
With a content sigh, she slumped down on a bale of hay. Each tiny prick against her skin reminded her of how good it was to be alive.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
"I Will Leave You In The Valley of Fire... I Shit You Not..."
In high school, Trevor and I were quite well known. We never missed the chance to perform in school assemblies, and we were constantly seen in the principal's office on many occasions after we were caught setting off the smoke detectors (accidentally of course,) or after we took one of the golf carts on campus out for a spin at the maximum 10 miles an hour out in the parking lot in wild circles.
Despite the fact we always seemed to get in trouble, we developed a very close relationship with our instructors who seemed to be slightly amused by our stupidity and always let us off easy. One of our favorites was our play director Andy who seemed to share the same sense of humor we did.
The annual High School Shakespeare Competition arrived, and two white vans were scheduled to drive the team the grueling 45 minutes to Cedar City from St. George. Trevor and I were assigned to a van with Andy, and we were having a blast making jokes and bouncing in our seats. We weren't immature; we were just living life in a very playful manner.
After our intense drive, we competed and won. Excitement was everywhere, and Trevor and I were thriving upon it. Everyone piled pack in the vans to go home, and Trevor and I babbled happily away to one another as we buckled our seat belts.
"Trevor...Trevor... What's that? No, you're supposed to look at where I'm pointing. Look Trevor! Look! Stop being a jerk! Look!"
"I'm not looking. Last time I looked you punched my arm. It's not funny, and I don't even get the joke."
"No, Trevor, I'm not gonna...just look. It's so funny. You're missing it!"
"I'm not--"
"Treeeeeeevor....Doooooooo it!"
"K... Only if you'll-- AHHHH! YOU PUNCHED ME!"
"Bahahaha. Did you get it? It was a joke. You totally didn't even see it coming."
"Shutup. I hate you. You suck."
"Trevor, what is that? Look!"
"I hate you. How about you look? Look, OH! Too late."
"Treeeeeeevor, you punched me twice as hard as I hit you..."
Now, to an outsider, th is may look like we were acting like small children. However we were really acting in an extremely mature manner that was just misunderstood by others.
After about five or so minutes, we wanted to included Andy in our fun. He probably was just in a "mood," because he didn't respond.
"Andy? Andy...hey. Hey, Andy! Annnnndy! Andy, come on. Look! Andy! Look back here! Annnnnndy! Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! What...Andy! Heeeeey! *snerk* Hahahaha. Hey Andy! Look what we--"
Suddenly, Andy spun around violently from the driver's seat; his face set in a scowl.
"I will leave you in the valley of fire...I shit you not."
Our mouths dropped open in shock. For the rest of the trip we remained quiet. Later, we came to the conclusion that we aren't obnoxious. People just don't understand us, that's all.
Despite the fact we always seemed to get in trouble, we developed a very close relationship with our instructors who seemed to be slightly amused by our stupidity and always let us off easy. One of our favorites was our play director Andy who seemed to share the same sense of humor we did.
The annual High School Shakespeare Competition arrived, and two white vans were scheduled to drive the team the grueling 45 minutes to Cedar City from St. George. Trevor and I were assigned to a van with Andy, and we were having a blast making jokes and bouncing in our seats. We weren't immature; we were just living life in a very playful manner.
After our intense drive, we competed and won. Excitement was everywhere, and Trevor and I were thriving upon it. Everyone piled pack in the vans to go home, and Trevor and I babbled happily away to one another as we buckled our seat belts.
"Trevor...Trevor... What's that? No, you're supposed to look at where I'm pointing. Look Trevor! Look! Stop being a jerk! Look!"
"I'm not looking. Last time I looked you punched my arm. It's not funny, and I don't even get the joke."
"No, Trevor, I'm not gonna...just look. It's so funny. You're missing it!"
"I'm not--"
"Treeeeeeevor....Doooooooo it!"
"K... Only if you'll-- AHHHH! YOU PUNCHED ME!"
"Bahahaha. Did you get it? It was a joke. You totally didn't even see it coming."
"Shutup. I hate you. You suck."
"Trevor, what is that? Look!"
"I hate you. How about you look? Look, OH! Too late."
"Treeeeeeevor, you punched me twice as hard as I hit you..."
Now, to an outsider, th is may look like we were acting like small children. However we were really acting in an extremely mature manner that was just misunderstood by others.
After about five or so minutes, we wanted to included Andy in our fun. He probably was just in a "mood," because he didn't respond.
"Andy? Andy...hey. Hey, Andy! Annnnndy! Andy, come on. Look! Andy! Look back here! Annnnnndy! Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey! What...Andy! Heeeeey! *snerk* Hahahaha. Hey Andy! Look what we--"
Suddenly, Andy spun around violently from the driver's seat; his face set in a scowl.
"I will leave you in the valley of fire...I shit you not."
Our mouths dropped open in shock. For the rest of the trip we remained quiet. Later, we came to the conclusion that we aren't obnoxious. People just don't understand us, that's all.
A New Life Story
Many girls have their lives planned out at a very young age. I remember my kindergarten classmates and I would all have discussions on how our future was going to roll out.
"I'm going to be a fairy princess and live in a castle..."
"Well I'm going to marry a millionaire..."
"That's nothing, I'm going to be a famous movie star and be ruler of my very own island."
I never shared the same dreams, and I hardly ever volunteered my "life story."
I learned my lesson once after I was laughed out of the group.
"I'm going to be a ballet dancer and have millions of men love me. What are you going to do when you're older Melissa?"
"I'm going to live in a cottage with a bunch of cats; maybe some dogs, and we'll all live in harmony together."
Now, I don't understand why I didn't come up with something grand and extravagant. I'm thinking that it was the same reason I could never have imaginary friends. I tried; I honestly did try to have dozens of invisible companions so I could "fit in with the times," but I always got bored. That, or my imagination was just as exciting as a goldfish's.
It's too bad I didn't keep in contact with any of my friends from our wee years. It would have been like an early high school reunion. Little Jill, who was going to be a model, gained 250 pounds and now changed her life story drastically. Or maybe tiny Suzy, who was going to be a vet, developed a severe case of allergies.
I can't be completely negative however. Even though I never quite fit in with girls my age, and developed extremely anti-social fantasies amongst their glamorous ones; I, too, had a change of plans. While my life of isolation amongst mammals seemed to be ideal; hormones developed and it wasn't quite the perfect dream anymore.
My plans changed from living alone to marrying a handsome French stud and moving to Europe. Soon my plan was forming into a reality. I fell in love with a gorgeous man I could only describe as a Greek God. He had curly blond hair, a wonderful personality, and a gorgeous smile that seemed to blind you whenever he flashed it.
Flirting followed, and I was falling deeper and deeper in love. We were obviously meant to be together; destined to love each other for eternity. I was longing only to hear the sweet, three little words that would make the butterflies in my stomach beat faster. "Melissa, I love you."
Three little words were eventually said to me, though they were not quite what I had in mind when instead a close friend came up to tell me: "Melissa, he is gay."
I was devastated. It took me forever to finally accept the truth; but the curse seemed to follow. Each and every man I feel head over heels for was just... how can I put this... not interested. Or if he was, it was because he was still in hiding and came clean only months after. (I still am unsure if our relationship had anything to do with his decision.) After years of denial, I finally accepted the truth, and realized that my life plan had changed yet again.
From living with animals, to marrying a French hunk, I went to unwillingly living a "Brokeback Mountain" life. I will find the man of my dreams, we'll get married, start a family, and he'll end up leaving me for the mailman or some other male.
I'm not happy about it, but at least I've come to accept it.
"I'm going to be a fairy princess and live in a castle..."
"Well I'm going to marry a millionaire..."
"That's nothing, I'm going to be a famous movie star and be ruler of my very own island."
I never shared the same dreams, and I hardly ever volunteered my "life story."
I learned my lesson once after I was laughed out of the group.
"I'm going to be a ballet dancer and have millions of men love me. What are you going to do when you're older Melissa?"
"I'm going to live in a cottage with a bunch of cats; maybe some dogs, and we'll all live in harmony together."
Now, I don't understand why I didn't come up with something grand and extravagant. I'm thinking that it was the same reason I could never have imaginary friends. I tried; I honestly did try to have dozens of invisible companions so I could "fit in with the times," but I always got bored. That, or my imagination was just as exciting as a goldfish's.
It's too bad I didn't keep in contact with any of my friends from our wee years. It would have been like an early high school reunion. Little Jill, who was going to be a model, gained 250 pounds and now changed her life story drastically. Or maybe tiny Suzy, who was going to be a vet, developed a severe case of allergies.
I can't be completely negative however. Even though I never quite fit in with girls my age, and developed extremely anti-social fantasies amongst their glamorous ones; I, too, had a change of plans. While my life of isolation amongst mammals seemed to be ideal; hormones developed and it wasn't quite the perfect dream anymore.
My plans changed from living alone to marrying a handsome French stud and moving to Europe. Soon my plan was forming into a reality. I fell in love with a gorgeous man I could only describe as a Greek God. He had curly blond hair, a wonderful personality, and a gorgeous smile that seemed to blind you whenever he flashed it.
Flirting followed, and I was falling deeper and deeper in love. We were obviously meant to be together; destined to love each other for eternity. I was longing only to hear the sweet, three little words that would make the butterflies in my stomach beat faster. "Melissa, I love you."
Three little words were eventually said to me, though they were not quite what I had in mind when instead a close friend came up to tell me: "Melissa, he is gay."
I was devastated. It took me forever to finally accept the truth; but the curse seemed to follow. Each and every man I feel head over heels for was just... how can I put this... not interested. Or if he was, it was because he was still in hiding and came clean only months after. (I still am unsure if our relationship had anything to do with his decision.) After years of denial, I finally accepted the truth, and realized that my life plan had changed yet again.
From living with animals, to marrying a French hunk, I went to unwillingly living a "Brokeback Mountain" life. I will find the man of my dreams, we'll get married, start a family, and he'll end up leaving me for the mailman or some other male.
I'm not happy about it, but at least I've come to accept it.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Dysfunction
“Where have you been?! “ She shrieked, her arms folded across her chest.
“Out,” he mumbled, slamming the door behind him, throwing down his jacket.
“OUT?!” her bellow bounced across the walls, making the house shake as her eyes narrowed dangerously.
“That’s right,” he replied as he shuffled across the living room.
“I thought we talked about this kind of thing…” Her voice shot an icy chill through the air.
“We have,” he said, flopping down on the couch and thudding his feet on the wobbly table in front of him.
“And…?” She trailed off, her foot beginning the usual obnoxious tapping.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at,” he muttered, reaching deep in between the cushions; yanking out a piece of stale pizza, a toothbrush, a dog collar and various other items until he finally found the remote.
“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she whined.
He pulled a wadded up booklet from his pocket and threw it at her, aiming for her face. “Go ahead,” he stated.
Smoothing it out, she gasped at the scantily dressed women on the gentlemen’s club program. “That doesn’t help,” she said with a giant, agitated sigh. She stared at him expectantly, and her foot tapping increased rapidly. After several minutes of silence, she held up the puzzle box and shook it in his direction. “You said you would help at least,” her voice slipped, if possible, into even more of a high-pitched whine that was sure to be the cause of many homicidal feelings and thoughts.
He shrugged. “Sure.” He began to approach her, hand outstretched for the puzzle.
“Ok,” she screeched, violently chucking the box at the wall; pieces exploding into the air like confetti. “That’s not what I’m talking about!”
He stopped dead, confused. “What’s what you’re talking about?”
“That I just can’t deal with this kind of…” she wavered, her hands flopping down from tearing at her hair, to limp at her sides.
He threw himself back down on the couch. “Forget it,” he pouted.
“What?” With a violent abrupt snap, her hands were back up to hair again, angrily pulling out large clumps.
“Forget it!” he spun around, his hand raised threateningly, about to strike her.
“Nothing,” she whispered. For a while, she stared at him, her eyes never leaving his except to steal a quick glance at the still raised hand. Finally she spun around, grabbing her keys and jacket from a hook on the wall. “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t,” he said, lowering his arm.
Slowly turning back, she looked at him, her large expressive eyes beginning to water. “Well?”
“Just...” he began in a voice barely audible. Slowly, he began to approach her; his steps steady and rhythmic. “…don’t leave.”
Her breathing began to get shallower; faster. “No?”
“No.” His lips found hers.
They shared a very unique relationship. Their way of life seems strange and different to many, however they are content. For five years they have lived this way, and, after time, they brought the gift of life into their homes with eight glorious and beautiful children; six of which who were recently committed to various psych wards, and two who remain happy, healthy, and married: to each other.
Shark Diving in Guatemala
Waitressing was probably not the best experiences I’ve had as a job opportunity. Not only was it waitressing; but I was employed at Denny’s: the family restaurant from hell. A typical day would include:
“My baby just vomited on the table. What can you do about that?”
“These fries are cold. Do you feel these? Here! Touch them! No! You have to see how cold they are! YOU EXPECT ME TO CONSUME THAT?!”
“Did my screaming child just run into the kitchen? Oh he’ll be fine. He likes to explore.”
“I didn’t know a grilled cheese sandwich came with cheese! Take it back!”
Lately however, I was assigned to working until three or four in the morning. This was a new shift. I quite often referred to this shift as the “Psycho Shift.” This was when all the strange people of the night came out and thrived through the darkness.
It had been a particularly gruesome day, and I was just wrapping up my “Psycho Shift.” A tall and rather attractive man came in and was sat in a booth. We made eye contact for a split second, and I lowered my gaze back down to the register I was signing out of. There were some complications and the manager came over to help me with the computer that only malfunctioned about a million times a shift.
Every so often I would look up, only to meet the eyes of the man in the booth. After a little bit, it began to grow quite awkward; this was beginning to happen way too many times to be coincidental. Maybe he was just zoning out, or maybe he just blanked out for a moment. I shrugged it off after I finally was signed out of the system successfully; I grabbed my bag from under the counter and began to leave.
“Melissa,” the man called.
I was confused for a moment, until I realized he had only read my nametag.
“Can you refill my coffee before you go?”
Homicidal thoughts flooded through my mind. I was off my shift, someone else should do. After a day like this, I could only think of bolting out the door. However, I didn’t want to appear rude; and it would only take a few seconds, right?
Wrong. After grabbing the coffee pot, I walked over and reached for his cup. Looking up at me, he asked quite sincerely: “How would you like to go shark diving in Guatemala?”
“Excuse me, are you serious?” I was caught by surprise. Was he even being remotely serious? Or was he that bored at 4 in the morning that he went to cause havoc at the only place open at this time?
“No, I’m dead serious. I mean it. I want to take you shark diving. Have you ever been?”
“Umm, no. I haven’t. But I don’t think—“
“Come on, you’d really enjoy it. I have a place…”
This man was pushy, and I still couldn’t believe that he was actually being serious. There was several minutes of awkward conversation:
“Can you see yourself with an older man? You’re very mature, and I really enjoy talking to you.”
Well, sir, if you enjoy awkward, fidgety conversation with a girl less than half your age who obviously can only think about the inviting bed calling to her after a grueling day, then I am confused at what would be a less stimulating conversation for you.
“Sir, I apologize, but I have to go…”
“I understand. Can I have your number?”
This is one of the many situations I have only succeeded in making worse by my inability of coming up with believable lies in the heat of the moment.
“I’m sorry sir, I…well, you see…I don’t have a phone.”
“You don’t have a phone? Do you live with friends? How do people get in contact with you?”
“They don’t. I live alone, and I’m probably…moving. Soon. Very soon. “
“When?”
“Uh, soon. I don’t know the exact date. All I know is that I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Oh. Well, then, do you want mine?”
This was getting ridiculous.
“Sir, I apologize. But I have to go. I have to…uh…be at my other job in a few hours. I really have to go.”
“I understand. But just know that I’ll be here for another hour. You can come back at any time, and I’ll be here. My offer still stands. When you change your mind, I’ll be here.”
I really don’t believe I have met anyone that pushy in a long while, and I was only glad to be out of there. One can only wonder how many girls were offered the “Guatemala Retreat” that night. Sure it would have been nice to spend a luxurious weekend scuba diving and lounging on the beach with a man I had met for only two seconds. Obviously it was destiny that I met this strange man at four in the morning at Denny’s. He was probably a keeper, and out of fatigue I passed up my chance on true happiness.
Yes, I made a decision too rashly. This man only had honest, true intentions, and I let them slip through my fingers. There is not a day that I don’t regret my mistake. That, and pigs also fly.
I'm Sorry Officer! I HAVE TO PEE!
The dark, residential street was quiet with the exception of an occasional dark barking. Driving past the small homes, I happily sang along to the Broadway show tunes crackling through my ancient speakers. It had been a good day, and I was happier than I had been in a long time. Nothing could put a damper on my night. Nothing. I was on top of the world!
However, once the “nothing can go wrong” speech is even slightly thought of, the usual stomach-sinking feeling kicks in almost abruptly. Almost instantly, flashing red and blue lights bounced of my rearview mirror.
Oops.
Well, great; of course. With increasing dread I pulled to the side of the road; while millions of thoughts coursed through my brain at incredible speed.
“I should tell him I’m on way to the hospital…no, that won’t work, he’d follow me… Umm, GAHGAHG! He’s almost to my window! I should tell him… umm, I’m going to throw up? I feel sick? AHH!!”
I jumped several feet into the air as the officer knocked on my window. Rolling it down, my mind was frantic.
“Ma’am, do you know how fast you were going?”
My mouth hung open, still thinking of the right things to say.
“You were going sixty…in a thirty; and this is a residential street.”
Uh-oh. I had done it. I was officially screwed. I really had no idea I was going that fast; I didn’t have a clue. Overwhelming panic set in as I realized how much trouble I really was in.
“Whuh?! Really? Uh…I’m sorry officer…I ... I…” This was it. I had only a fraction of a second to attempt to save my life. “I…uh… HAD TO PEE! I’M SO SORRY! BUT I’M FEELING REALLY SICK, I HAVE TO PEE LIKE YOU WOULDN’T BELIVE, AND I JUST HAVE TO GO HOME REAL BAD!”
I could see the faint beginning of a smirk form on his lips. Good. This was good.
“License and registration.”
Handing them out the window, I began to make the situation extremely awkward, shifting and making grunt of “pain.” After taking a quick look, he handed them back.
“You do know that you shouldn’t speed, regardless of the situation, right?”
“Yes, of course officer. I’ve just never felt this bad before…I really can’t make it…”
He left after giving me only a warning. It was incredible, and my greatest moment of triumph. I had gotten out of an almost impossible disaster. Right after it happened, I called my friend Trevor telling him of my greatest feat. Weeks later, he got pulled over as well for a speed far less than mine. After hearing of my incredible moment of triumph, he decided to try. The officer, unimpressed with a teenaged boy’s frantic tearful, heartbreaking story of an near-exploding bladder, wrote him a ticket.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Bad Conditions
The wind howled and beat against the windshield of the car. We leaned forward, squinting into the darkness, trying to stay on the road. We were not used to this weather; coming from a city that experienced nothing but sunshine and extreme heat. Rain smashed against the glass, and our wipers went on strike; smearing streaks across the window. It was so dark we couldn’t even tell where we were going. However, we were too stubborn to admit that we were lost; driving dangerously. All of a sudden, something smacked violently against the side door. We had hit something, and fear swelled within us. Screeching to a complete stop, we could see the small, crumpled outline of what could only be a child. Slowly, and dazed, we opened the door as unexplainable dread rose within us as we began to make our way over to the dark mound. Unexpectedly, the figure began to crawl away, almost in fear. Squinting against the rain, we tried to follow, only to have it again try to run from us. Lighting flashed against the dark backdrop of the sky, and for a brief moment we could see the face of the child we had hit. It’s tangled face was fused with sticks and shrubbery. Our mouths dropped with shock. The beaten down child was: a tumbleweed. A very large, misshapen tumbleweed that crashed into the side of the car, and now lay limp in the middle of the road after the roaring wind died down. Needles to say: the decision to stop driving until conditions cleared up was made for us.
Monday, October 1, 2007
The Yoshi-Mobile
I have never been very good with cars. Sure, I knew basic maintenance; I wasn’t that stupid. I knew how to open the complicated gas tank to fill it, and I could run it through the car wash occasionally to keep the peeling exterior looking its best. I failed at other maintenance though. I mean, I wasn’t an expert.
My first car was a Pontiac Sunbird. Its shedding green paint would sparkle when the sun hit it just right, and the puff of smoke that erupted from the exhaust pipe every time the car started would float through the air like a dark, playful cloud. It was perfect; just plain beautiful.
I purchased it for about five hundred dollars from a close friend. “Don’t buy it from me,” she warned, “It’s a piece of crap. That’s why I’m selling it.” I was young, carefree, and desperate for a car and companion. With all signs pointing to only positive outcomes, I eagerly bought my very first car.
He ran very well for a while. He was my Yoshi-moble, and I was his driver. Nothing could separate us; jealous people, the world, not even the little red oil light the flashed warningly occasionally.
Each day I had to drive fifteen miles to fulfill my education as an eager student. For almost half of a year we spent each morning and afternoon together with complete happiness. That is, until disaster struck our joyful world. The once-inviting little red light, which normally gave a blinking, cheerful hello, was now stuck on an angry glare. For weeks I ignored it; and a week or so after that I grew irritated with its intentional havoc on our relationship.
Finally, I decided that no longer could I ignore it. I took Yoshi in to the repair shop where I heard devastating news. My car, I had been informed, had cancer. He had a tumor within its water pump, and if I did not take care of it soon, he would not last much longer. The surgery would cost about five hundred dollars; four hundred and ninety-five of which I did not have. Sadly, head hung low, I went out to meet my friend, who was not aware of the time he had left. He greeted me with a happy purr when he started, and I made up my mind that I would not let him know. I would continue to drive him until his last dying day, and we would stay happy.
After about two weeks, the dreaded day came. After about five minutes of driving, the oil light was joined by more enemies. The oil pressure needle was through the roof, and the check engine light flashed more than normal. I convinced myself that the Yoshi-mobile was actually fine. The Tunex employee had no idea what he was talking about, and that some wires were only experiencing a minor malfunction, hence the lights were flashing as a result. It meant nothing. Nothing!
Ten minutes into the drive, after convincing myself that everything would be fine, the engine began to smoke, and the faint scent of fire filled the air. Tactics changed abruptly. I went from denial to, well, slightly optimistic. “Please car, please. Just make it to school. That’s all you need to do now. You’ve been a good friend…a good…well, what I’m trying to say is…I loved you. Do you hear that? I loved you!”
BANG! The car jerked violently as the engine exploded. I was left in the middle of a crowded street with a dead friend. He had tried to be strong, but when he knew he was loved, he just let go. Putting him in neutral, I tried to push Yoshi to the side of the road. Several big, strong, capable men slowed down, not to help, but to laugh as I nearly killed myself trying to clear the road, and several other people also only slowed down to watch from their air-conditioned, still-living vehicles. Soon, I was sitting on the side of the road with my departed companion. Now people came to stop when the hard work was done. “Do you need help? Can I give you a lift?”
“No. I’m fine. Thanks.” After that happened, I realized it was a stupid mistake. I felt that I would betray the Yoshi-mobile if I left him on the side of the road. But now I realized that sitting with him alone would accomplish nothing. Grudgingly, I called a friend to pick me up, while I had a tow truck take the Yoshi-mobile back home.
It’s been almost two years now. I sold my poor dead friend to a man for spare parts, but he still resides within a special, deep part of my heart, and always will. I’ve had other cars since…two. One also passed on fairly early, and my current mode of transportation, a lively little truck named Snow Puff, looks like she’ll be a keeper. I haven’t made the same mistake I’ve done with the Yoshi-mobile. I’ve taken Snow Puff for annual checkups, and only deny the small things, like the faint smell of burning, or the oil she tends to leak quite a bit.
People tell me that I should buy a car that actual runs; that isn’t a hundred years old and a worthless pile of junk. But I pay no attention to their pessimistic way of life. I’ve made my choice; three times, three different cars. I stand by them.
My first car was a Pontiac Sunbird. Its shedding green paint would sparkle when the sun hit it just right, and the puff of smoke that erupted from the exhaust pipe every time the car started would float through the air like a dark, playful cloud. It was perfect; just plain beautiful.
I purchased it for about five hundred dollars from a close friend. “Don’t buy it from me,” she warned, “It’s a piece of crap. That’s why I’m selling it.” I was young, carefree, and desperate for a car and companion. With all signs pointing to only positive outcomes, I eagerly bought my very first car.
He ran very well for a while. He was my Yoshi-moble, and I was his driver. Nothing could separate us; jealous people, the world, not even the little red oil light the flashed warningly occasionally.
Each day I had to drive fifteen miles to fulfill my education as an eager student. For almost half of a year we spent each morning and afternoon together with complete happiness. That is, until disaster struck our joyful world. The once-inviting little red light, which normally gave a blinking, cheerful hello, was now stuck on an angry glare. For weeks I ignored it; and a week or so after that I grew irritated with its intentional havoc on our relationship.
Finally, I decided that no longer could I ignore it. I took Yoshi in to the repair shop where I heard devastating news. My car, I had been informed, had cancer. He had a tumor within its water pump, and if I did not take care of it soon, he would not last much longer. The surgery would cost about five hundred dollars; four hundred and ninety-five of which I did not have. Sadly, head hung low, I went out to meet my friend, who was not aware of the time he had left. He greeted me with a happy purr when he started, and I made up my mind that I would not let him know. I would continue to drive him until his last dying day, and we would stay happy.
After about two weeks, the dreaded day came. After about five minutes of driving, the oil light was joined by more enemies. The oil pressure needle was through the roof, and the check engine light flashed more than normal. I convinced myself that the Yoshi-mobile was actually fine. The Tunex employee had no idea what he was talking about, and that some wires were only experiencing a minor malfunction, hence the lights were flashing as a result. It meant nothing. Nothing!
Ten minutes into the drive, after convincing myself that everything would be fine, the engine began to smoke, and the faint scent of fire filled the air. Tactics changed abruptly. I went from denial to, well, slightly optimistic. “Please car, please. Just make it to school. That’s all you need to do now. You’ve been a good friend…a good…well, what I’m trying to say is…I loved you. Do you hear that? I loved you!”
BANG! The car jerked violently as the engine exploded. I was left in the middle of a crowded street with a dead friend. He had tried to be strong, but when he knew he was loved, he just let go. Putting him in neutral, I tried to push Yoshi to the side of the road. Several big, strong, capable men slowed down, not to help, but to laugh as I nearly killed myself trying to clear the road, and several other people also only slowed down to watch from their air-conditioned, still-living vehicles. Soon, I was sitting on the side of the road with my departed companion. Now people came to stop when the hard work was done. “Do you need help? Can I give you a lift?”
“No. I’m fine. Thanks.” After that happened, I realized it was a stupid mistake. I felt that I would betray the Yoshi-mobile if I left him on the side of the road. But now I realized that sitting with him alone would accomplish nothing. Grudgingly, I called a friend to pick me up, while I had a tow truck take the Yoshi-mobile back home.
It’s been almost two years now. I sold my poor dead friend to a man for spare parts, but he still resides within a special, deep part of my heart, and always will. I’ve had other cars since…two. One also passed on fairly early, and my current mode of transportation, a lively little truck named Snow Puff, looks like she’ll be a keeper. I haven’t made the same mistake I’ve done with the Yoshi-mobile. I’ve taken Snow Puff for annual checkups, and only deny the small things, like the faint smell of burning, or the oil she tends to leak quite a bit.
People tell me that I should buy a car that actual runs; that isn’t a hundred years old and a worthless pile of junk. But I pay no attention to their pessimistic way of life. I’ve made my choice; three times, three different cars. I stand by them.
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