No One Will Love You As Much As I Never Did

            “What are you trying to say?  I don’t understand.  You can’t be doing what I think you’re doing.  No, it can’t be!  That only happens to like a fat kid or an ultra-abusive boyfriend who beats his pregnant girlfriend even after she’s shielding herself with her bruised arms from the folding chair he keeps hitting her with!  It can’t be happening to me!  Please tell me you’re joking!  I know you’re joking.  You’ve got to be joking?  What do you mean this is why you find me boring?  So?  You did what?!  To who?!  Jimmy?!  When?!  It’s been ongoing for the past three months?!  You can’t be serious.  Please tell me you’re not serious.  I would rather hear that you passed an STD to me rather than this!  Are you recording this conversation?  You’re doing me a favor?  How is this any favor to me?  What?  You do realize this is what would have been our two year anniversary, right?  You called me while I was getting ready to go to your apartment.  I mean, I am holding the bouquet of flowers I bought you!  I am holding them—for you—while you’re revealing this to me!  I need to go over your apartment!  What?!  What do you mean I can’t?  No, this can’t be true!  Well, tell him to leave!  Yeah, tell him I say, ‘fuck you,’ too, and that I could hear everything he’s saying in the background!  That son of a bitch!  I am going to kill him the next time I see him!  So what if he knows jiujutsu?  Ursula!  It’s been two years!  This is how you’re going to drop the axe on me?!  But, I love you!  I love you so much!  You and I, we’re a great match!  It’s fate!  You weren’t named Ursula and I wasn’t named Steven for no reason.  Together, our initials spell ‘us,’ and that is what makes ‘us’ so special!  Alright, alright, very mature.  Are you done now?  Really?  How so?  No, I mean it, please humor me.  Because I want to know, that’s why.  Yes, I really want to know what makes me a loser.  Because I trusted you?  What?  I can’t believe you just said that to me!  It’s totally disgusting!  Why would I want to know that an hour after you gave another guy a blowjob you made out with me?!  Well, it’s not funny to me…it’s not funny to me at all!  How could you?!  How dare you!  I’m out of line?!  You bitch!  I’m sorry.  I was out of line by calling you that.  I know.  I know I could be childish sometimes.  Please stop imitating me to Jimmy.  And please stop telling him I asked you to stop imitating me.  Ursula!  Fine, fine.  I’ll admit it, it’s my fault.  Is that what you want to hear?  Whatever I did, I’m sorry.  It doesn’t matter that you’ve been cheating on me for three months.  It doesn’t matter that I basically tasted another guy when I kissed you that one time.  Please, allow me to pick you up so we could enjoy this day.  Why?  Because I love you, that’s why.  STOP FUCKING LAUGHING!  Hello?  Hello?!”

            Steven was dumped.  He and Ursula had been ‘dating’ for the past two years, but she had been cheating on him since the fourth month into the relationship.  Jimmy had been sleeping with her for the past six months.  Before him, there was Mark, Dan, Bryan, Kelly, Jasmine, and Keanu Reeves.  Ursula had met Jimmy at a bar.

            “I gotta drain this baby outta me,” she said one drunken night as she barged through the men’s bathroom at a local dive bar after Jimmy was done using the urinal.

            “But, there are no stalls in here, only urinals,” he said.

            “I don’t give a shit,” she said as she dropped her pants and squatted over the urinal. “You’re cute, why don’t you come over here and swallow my tongue?”

            “Sure,” Jimmy said as he took the gum he was chewing on out of his mouth and put it in her hair.  It was the strangest drunken sex in a bathroom since the time Abraham Lincoln had a one-off with a local whore back in 1847.

            Steven was at the bar, too, but he waited outside, sipping on a Zima waiting for his girlfriend to come out of the bathroom.  Some would even wonder why Steven put up with the obvious facts that Ursula was in a constant state of infidelity.  The truth of the matter is that Steven is one of the most oblivious men in the history of relationships.  Steven thought he and Ursula would most likely marry.  Everyone liked them as a couple those days when Ursula was faithful to Steven.  When news broke, Steven wanted to be consoled by his friends.  He immediately went to his friend Chris’ apartment.

            “She dumped you?!” Chris exclaimed.

            “Yeah, man, she totally ripped my heart into shreds,” Steven said.

            “You’ve got to get her back, Steven, get her back!”

            “She’s already seeing another guy.  It’s that guy Jimmy, the guy who slept over her place for two weeks to keep her company while I went to visit my folks down in Florida.  And here I thought it was just a nice gesture.  He even wore my Bugle Boy jeans…”

            “Is it serious with him?” Chris’ wife Terri asked.

            “I don’t know.  I don’t think so.”

            “You know, I did see this coming,” Terri said.

            “Really?  You knew she would cheat on me?”

            “Steven, no offense, but you’re in the wrong here,” Terri said.

            “What?!” Steven said in disbelief. “She broke up with and cheated on me!”

            “I see Terri’s point, Steven,” Chris said. “How did you handle this?”

            “I tried to get her back.  I asked if we could talk about it.”

            “Ohh, bad move.  You totally fucked up.  Are you that dense in the head, Steven?” Terri said.

            “What?”

            “Dense in the head, idiot.  She asked if you were dense in the head,” Chris said.

            “I heard what she said, but I don’t understand where this is all coming from,” Steven said.

            “Steven, I’ve known you for I’d say about fifteen years, and I could honestly say that you’ve totally screwed up every single of the two relationships you’ve been in,” Chris said.

            “That was phrased awkwardly, honey,” Terri said to Chris.

            “I know.  I just wanted to say it in a way that gave an illusion that Steven here has been with many women,” Chris said.

            “I get it.  That’s very funny, dear,” Terri said and chuckled.

            “But, you guys…” Steven said before he was interrupted by the phone ringing.

            “Hold that thought,” Chris said as he picked up the phone.

            “Hello?  Oh, hi, Ursula!  How are you doing?  Oh?  Why are you crying?  Yes, I know.  I know.  He’s right here.  Oh, you poor thing.  I know you dumped him.  It must have been so hard for you, I know.  You are so brave.  Jimmy did what?  Oh, totally.  Yes, I know.  Good thing he left or else Terri and I would have had to show him a thing or two.  HA!  Yes, you’re right!  Well, stay strong, dear.  I know, I know.  Well, if you need anything, don’t be afraid to be a bee and gimme a buzz, alright?  Talk to you later, hon.  Bye,” Chris said. “Steven, get the fuck out.”

            “What?!”

            “You have put this woman in enough of a state.  Do you know how hard and brave it was for Ursula to get the courage to break up with you and admit how unfaithful she was to you?  She’s as brave as a young, vibrant Rosa Parks or even Harriet Tubman!  And here you are, crying like Little Judy falling off her bike and scraping her knee.  Get the fuck out, Steven.  This here is Ursula Country.  She’s welcome here, you’re not, get out.”

“But…”

            “Steven, you heard my husband, get the fuck out of our apartment!” Terri said.

            “You guys are terrible friends,” Steven said as he stormed out.

            Steven didn’t know what to do with himself.  He knew that he had to keep himself distracted in order to keep himself from thinking about his situation.  He was too gullible of a man to be involved with a woman like Ursula.  A woman like her would eat him up, put her fingers down her throat in a bulimic fit, and then suck him back up again with a straw.  It was the second major heartache he had ever experienced.  His first serious girlfriend, Paige, never reciprocated her love to him.  She chose her career over Steven and moved to Chicago after a job opportunity arose. 

“So you’re not going to reconsider this at all?  Not for the sake of us?” Steven asked Paige at the airport before she boarded her plane to Chicago.

“Nope.  Later, dude,” she responded and then walked to the terminal.

She now had a kid and was married to a man she did not love as much as she should have, but Steven did not know this.  He was distraught for months after their break-up, but forgot about her after he met Ursula.  Ursula used to live down the hall from Steven’s apartment.  She showed him attention.  What he didn’t notice, though, was that she showed a lot of guys even more attention.  One day, after Steven walked down the hall back to his apartment from Ursula’s, the Dakota Brothers waited until he closed his door, and then popped out of the maintenance closet and prepared to sandwich her like rye on ham.  No, seriously, it was a gross sight.  I mean, even the ceilings were stained after that night.  She since moved to a different apartment complex because she couldn’t think of any other innovative ways to hide the other men she was sleeping with.

            “I don’t know who else to turn to.  You’re the only one I could talk to these days,” Steven told his brother over the phone.

            “What happened, Steven?  Are you alright?  Why don’t you come over?  I’ll set up a bed for you on the couch,” his brother said.

            When Steven arrived at Ben’s house, Ben was concerned.  His younger brother looked pale and was covered in tears and drool.

            “What happened to you?  Tell me.  You’ve got me concerned,” Ben told Steven.

            “Ursula dumped me…”

            Ben closed his eyes and took four deep breaths.  He then hugged Steven.

            “Are you serious?” Ben whispered to Steven.

            “Yes, unfortunately so…”

            “What did you do?”

            “I didn’t do anything.  She cheated on me and dumped me.”

            “She cheated on you?  So what?  It doesn’t mean anything—just that she doesn’t take the relationship as seriously as you do.  There is nothing wrong with that, Steven, nothing.”

            “But, she cheated on me…and she dumped me…”

            “Steven, sometimes you’re going to have to fight for what you want.  Do you want her back?”

            “I don’t know.  A part of me does, but a bigger part of me thinks that I’m a sucker.”

            “Then, you’ve answered my question.  You’re a big fucking sucker.  I always knew you were a sucker.  I can’t believe you totally made her dump you.  Surely you must have done something to merit her dumping you and cheating on you.  I feel so sorry for her.  What possessed her to do such a thing to my kid brother?  I remember when you and I were little.  You wanted to play with the trucks.  You always wanted to play with those little toy trucks.”

            “What does that have to do with anything?”

            “It was a metaphor.”

            “A metaphor for what?”

            “A metaphor for get in that fucking truck and get the fuck out of my house.”

            “What?”

            “You heard me.  Get the fuck out before I punch you in your fucking face.  The nerve of you.  I should kick your ass right now out of principle,” Ben said as he pushed Steven away.

            “What did I do wrong?!”

            “You know, that girl put up with a lot of your shit.  You just sat there whenever I saw you with her.  She likes to have fun, likes to be punched in the face—like one of the guys.  I could only imagine the shit she had to put up with.  She’s like a brave and vibrant Whitney Houston putting up with your lame-ass shit.”

            “Ben, I’m your brother!”

            “And it is unfortunate.  You screwed up, big time.  It’s a good thing mom and dad moved down to Florida and away from this bullshit.  Now, there’s the door.  Mind the gap, bitch.”

            “This is bullshit, you know that?  Yeah, you’re my brother alright.  I wish I was never born!”

            “You’re really going to go down that route?  Seriously, at this age?  Get out, you’re so pathetic.”

            “I hope I never see you again!” Steven said as he slammed the door.

            “Same here, dude, same here…” Ben said as he then looked at himself in the mirror next to the front door, curled his upper lip like Elvis, and winked at his reflection.

            Steven didn’t know where else to turn.  He thought to then call his mother on his way home.

            “Hello?” Answered his mother.

            “Hello, mom?”

            “Steven, is that you?  What’s wrong, Steven?  You sound like something is wrong.”

            “Mom, I need someone to talk to, and I don’t know who else to turn to.”

            “Have you gotten yourself into trouble, Steven?”

            “No, it’s just that—” and then he was interrupted by a car screeching to a stop and a large man getting out of his car.

            “You motherfucker!  I’m going to chafe my dick as I’m fucking those eye sockets of yours!”

            “Ted?  Ted is that you?” Steven said.

            “What’s going on, Steven?” Steven’s mother asked.

            “I have to go, mom.  I’ll talk to you later!”

            “But, honey!  I—” Steven’s mother said before he hung up on her.

            “Ted!  What do you want?” Steven said as he started to panic and run away.

            “I’m gonna fucking kill you!  You and my sister are over!”

            “But, I didn’t do anything to her!  She broke up with me!  She cheated on me!” Steven said as he was running as fast as he could.

            “Doesn’t fucking matter, Steven!  You’re dead!  Fucking dead!  Fuck yeah!”

            As Steven was running through the streets and eventually ended up at the park, he pulled out his cell phone again and called Ursula.

            “Hello?” Ursula answered.

            “Ursula!  Why the fuck is your brother coming after me?!”

            “Oh, I told him that we broke up.  He totally wants to kick your ass.  I’d stay away from him if I were you.”

            “Well, he fucking found me!  I didn’t do shit to you!  What did you tell him?!”

            “What?  Are you serious?  He said he wouldn’t harm you.  I thought he was serious this time.  I mean, I found it weird when he went over your house to look for you.  He then asked where else you could be when he found that you weren’t there.  I told him I would tell him where I thought you were only if he didn’t go after you.  He agreed.  So I told him you’d most likely be at your brother’s house.  I guess he lied to me.”

            “You really think so?!” Steven said sarcastically.

            Ursula heard faint yelling in the background.

            “My poor sister is like a brave and vibrant Maya Angelou!  She was so courageous in breaking your fucking heart!” Ted yelled at Steven.

            “Is that Ted yelling in the background?”

            “Yeah, it is!”

            “Oh, that’s cool.”

            “Ursula, why are you doing this to me?  What did I do to you?  Why won’t you take me back?”

            “Steven, do we have to get into this as my brother is chasing and wanting to skull-fuck you?  Besides, it’s late.”

            “When would be a more appropriate time, then?”

            “Fine,” Ursula said as she sighed. “What do you want?”

            “I love you!” Steven said as he ran into the wooded area of the park and tried to catch his breath as he hid from Ted.

            “Really?  After all I’ve put you through, you still love me?” Ursula said in a tone that wasn’t at all gratifying, but rather more of annoyance.

            “Yes, I do!”

            “Fine, well, I’ll tell you what.  If you get out of this tangled, fucked up situation with my brother you got yourself into, then I suppose you could come over to my apartment.”

            “Really?  You mean it?!”

            “Sure, I’m not a bitch.”

            “No, of course not!”

            “Yeah, see you when I see you,” Ursula said and then hung up.

            Steven stayed silent in the dark wooded area of the park.  He heard Ted rustling through the leaves.

            “Steven, buddy, I know I overreacted.  I’m sorry.  Why don’t you come out so I could apologize to you?”

            Steven almost fell for it and came out, but he then remembered that Ted was a good liar.

            “Steven, seriously, buddy, I’m sorry.  Let me take you home.  I know you don’t have a car.  I’ll drive you home.”

            Steven stayed quiet and still.

            “Fine!  You’re lucky it’s dark out, you fucker.  I know where you live!  I’ve slapped a little kid in the face before, Steven, so don’t think I won’t slap yours in a second!  You’re fucking dead!  I hope a wolf or some shit eats you, asshole,” Ted said as he walked away.

            Steven waited a few more minutes until he knew the coast was clear and that Ted wasn’t just waiting out in the open for him.  He decided to go out the other side of the park.  It was a more roundabout way, but it insured that he wouldn’t cross paths with Ted.  He headed straight for Ursula’s apartment.  Once he got there, he buzzed her, but she didn’t answer until fifteen minutes later.

            “Hello?” She asked through the speaker.

            “Hey, it’s me Steven.”

            “What are you doing here?”

            “You said I could come over.”

            “Oh.  Alright,” she said and then buzzed him in.

            Ursula let Steven into her apartment.  They both sat down on her couch.

            “Ursula, don’t do this.  Please don’t do this to us.  We’ve been together for too long,” Steven said.

            “Steven, is this what you came here for?”

            “Yeah, why else would I come over?”

            “I thought you just wanted to talk about other things.”

            “Why would I want to talk about other things with you at this point?”

            “I don’t know.  I feel so terrible.”

            “I do, too.  Please take me back!”

            “What?  No, not about us.  I don’t feel terrible about us.  Jimmy said he doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

            “Really?!  That’s great!”

            “Steven, grow up.  I miss him.  You have no idea how hung he was.”

            Steven didn’t want to hear where this conversation was going.  He was growing uncomfortable.  His palms were sweaty and his heart pounding, but he was going to allow her to talk so that he would be on her good side and then possibly be more inclined to take him back.

            She continued, “Seriously, so hung.  It’s true what they say about black guys.  His penis was like a public pay phone receiver hanging off the hook swinging from side to side.”

            “Oh, is that so?” Steven said.  He then stopped paying attention to her and just smiled and nodded.  She spoke for about ten minutes and then took her pants off.

            “Well?” She asked.

            “Well what?” Steven asked.

            “Are you gonna take off your pants or what?”

            “Huh?”

            “Well, we can’t fuck if your pants are still on.”

            “Wait a second.  Are we back together?”

            “No!  Haven’t you been paying attention to what I’ve been saying?”

            “Of course I have!  I’m just confused.”

            “I said that you told me that you loved me over the phone earlier this evening.”

            “Yes, that is true.”

            “Well, I haven’t gotten laid in like four hours.  And now that Jimmy left, it doesn’t look like I’ll get any tonight.  So, since you love me, let’s have sex.”

            “But, it won’t mean anything,” Steven responded.

            “So?  You love me, right?  If you love me, it don’t matter what you think.”

            “What?  That doesn’t make sense, and it’s not right.  I love you!  It’s way more than just sex.”

            “Steven, I know that.  It’s not like I don’t know what love is.  I know the difference between fucking and loving.  I’ve known the difference since I was 11.  Now, will you take your pants off?”

            “No.  I won’t subject myself to this,” Steven said. “I will not give you a pity fuck.  I’m above that!”

            Ursula started laughing.

            “You think I need a pity fuck?” She said.

            “Yes, why else would you want me to have sex with you here and now even though we’re broken up?  I’m not going to have emotionless sex with you, Ursula.”

            “So you’re not going to have sex with someone unless they love you?”

            “Yes, that’s correct.”

            “Oh, Steven,” Ursula said as she started laughing. “Steven, poor Steven.  Look at me, honey.  Look straight into my eyes and listen to what I am going to tell you.  No one will love you as much as I never did.  So it looks like you’re never going to have sex again for the rest of your life.”

            Steven was taken aback by what she said.  He just got up off of the couch and left Ursula’s apartment.  He heard Ursula laughing as he closed the door.  He walked back home and didn’t care about the fallout that would come his way now because he and Ursula broke up.  The whole experience at Ursula’s apartment weighed an enormous amount in his head.  It was what he didn’t want to hear come out of her mouth, but it was what he needed to hear.  As much as it hurt him, it was what he needed to help him move on.  On his way home, Steven got a call on his cell phone from Chris.  He thought Chris came back to his senses and was calling him to apologize after what happened earlier that evening.

            “Hello?” Steven answered.

            “You wouldn’t even give her a pity fuck?  Seriously?” Chris said. “I have every right to kick your fucking ass.”

            Steven just hung up on him and decided to take a break for himself.  He decided to take a trip to an exotic place he had never visited before to get his mind off of everything.  He had not placed himself as a priority for the past few years, so he decided to go to Italy.  He had never been there before.  On the plane, he was seated next to an attractive girl who he befriended.  They shared a few things in common, and small talk eventually turned into an engrossing three-hour conversation.  Steven found himself very attracted to her.  She was finally someone who could take his mind off of Ursula and all of the duress she caused him, mentally.

            “So, where are you going in Italy?” Steven asked Lisa, the girl he met on the plane.

            “Well, I’m going to stay in Rome for a while and explore it.  It’s the first time I’ve actually ever left the country, you know,” Lisa said.

            Steven felt a connection with her because they had some things in common and because he had also never left the country—as well as the fact that he was also traveling alone with the intention of exploring Rome.  He thought this would be the perfect opportunity to finally find someone who will love and appreciate him.  Even though he had just met her, Steven felt meeting this girl sitting next to him while traveling to Rome right then and there at that juncture in his life was too much of a coincidence.  He thought that Ursula was wrong; that he would find someone who would love him, someone who wouldn’t choose her career over him, someone who would not cheat on him with multiple men at one time or in single instances, or with women, or with farm animals—even though it hasn’t been proven that Ursula had committed such an act, but let’s just say it was strongly implied.  He decided to take the plunge and see where he would land.

            “Would you like to explore the city together?  I mean, since we’re both going to Rome, we should definitely take this trip together,” Steven said.

            Lisa gave him a smirk and said, “I have a boyfriend.”

            “That’s okay,” Steven said.

            “No, that means I am not interested in taking this trip with you once we land.”

            “Fair enough,” Steven said and then looked out of his window for the remainder of the flight.

A Morning Delight

            He awoke that morning like every other morning.  He rubbed his eyes, flicked the crust that had formed at the corner of each of them, and tasted the bitterness that was his breath.  He looked disheveled and could not stop smiling after the wonderful dream he had.  That was the only difference between this morning and every other morning.

            He had a dream that for once in his life everything seemed so easy and content.  He pictured himself going away on a cruise with those he had grown to love, saw himself graduating from college, revisited his wedding day, and saw himself witnessing the birth of his son.  He also saw his family members and friends gathered at his funeral.  He then started seeing what would start to happen to his loved ones after he died, but was awoken by her coming into his room.

            “Happy to see that you’re awake.”

            “What do you have there for me?”

            “I have a delightful meal for you.  You’re going to love this.  I have oatmeal, orange juice, and a banana.  You’re going to have a healthy breakfast.”

            “That does sound delightful.  That was the apropos word to use.”

            “Anything I could do for you?” She said as she placed the tray with food on the nightstand next to his bed.

            “No, this is more than enough.  Thank you very much.  I really appreciate it.”

            “Not a problem.  I’ll come back in a little bit.”

            He laid in bed for another twenty minutes without saying a word, thinking about his dream.  He could not stop smirking.  Everything seemed so simple and compact.  Life didn’t seem stressful to him at all anymore.  He knew he would be fine.  He was a little curious as to what the rest of the dream had in store for him.  He felt as if he were floating in the middle of a barren ocean with no sight of land and only the soothing sound of waves smoothly gliding over the glazing water surface.  He was in a state of tranquility.

            He looked out of his open window and saw a woodpecker pecking into the trunk of the tree he would stare at every evening in the moonlight.  He stopped thinking about his dream and devoted all of his attention and concentration at the woodpecker, and could have sworn it looked and then smiled at him.  She came back into the room and startled him.

            “What are you smiling about?” She asked him.

            “Nothing, I was just thinking about how funny life could be,” he responded.

            “Oh, really?  How so?”

            “I don’t know.  It just is.”

            “I could see what you mean…” She said while giving him a perplexed look. “Would you like me to put the record you like on the player?”

            “That would be fantastic.  Thank you so much.”

            “You’re welcome.  Just give me a holler if you need anything else,” she said as she put the needle on the record and a song played.  She then walked out of the bedroom.

            Still lying in bed, he continued looking at the woodpecker with a song in the background.  The woodpecker then flew into his room through the window and perched itself next to his breakfast on the nightstand next to him.  It just looked at him with its head tilted as if it were infinitely curious of him.  He thought to himself if anything could be more beautiful than what he was witnessing at that moment.  The woodpecker then started chirping at him, as if trying to convey a personal message.  He started giggling in a way that made himself look like his seven-year-old self in his reflection in the mirror across the room—a look he had not seen in decades.

            He wanted to pet the woodpecker, but was afraid he would startle it and cause it to retreat out through the open window with an urgent feeling of betrayal.  It then began hopping closer to him on his nightstand while its chirps were being drowned out by the sound of the music coming from the record player.  With the smell of oatmeal throughout the room, he just quietly observed the woodpecker with a smile on his face and his eyebrows raised, and gripped his sheets while his ears were meshed between the cacophony of bird chirps and the muffled ragtime song floating out of the speakers.

            Seemingly frustrated by the ostensible communication barrier between itself and him, the woodpecker started flying around the room as if showing off to its newfound friend and interest.  It then perched itself on the sheets, on top of his right leg and started chirping even louder than it was before.

            “I’m falling in love with you…I’m falling in love with you…I’m falling in love with you…I love you…I love you…I love you…I loved you…I loved you…I loved you…Goodbye…Goodbye…Goodbye…” whispered out of the speakers as the song that was playing was fading out.  He could not remember the last time he was the center of attention as much as he was at that moment.

            “I only wish I knew what you are trying to say to me, friend,” he said to the bird.

            The woodpecker then hopped off of his bed and landed on the floor.  It then bit and tugged as much as it could on the sheets that were draping on the floor, as if trying to pull the covers off of him so he would get up and out of bed.

            “I’m sorry, but I am restricted to my bed.  I am unable to walk anymore,” he said to it.

            The woodpecker then flew up next to him on the bed, next to his pillow.  It perched itself there.  It seemingly finally understood and accepted the unmitigated circumstances.  He then lifted his hand to pet it.  The woodpecker was unfazed and allowed itself to be petted.  It closed its eyes when he did so and nestled closer to him.

            “Thank you,” he said. “This is exactly what I needed.”

            He then closed his eyes and pictured himself floating out of his constricted bedroom through the open window with the woodpecker.  He ascended into the sky and flew over lakes, over ponds, over creeks.  He felt more alive than he had in years.  He flew to the house where he and his immediate family once lived in.  He saw that his loved ones were waiting patiently for him in the front porch.  They were delighted when he descended from the sky to the front lawn with the woodpecker and walked over to greet him accordingly.

            She came back into the room and noticed the record had ended.  The ruffling sound of a finished record sank out of the speakers.  She saw his eyes were closed and that he still had the smile on his face from when he awoke earlier that morning.  His oatmeal was cold and untouched.

Taco Bell: THE MOVIE

            What’s your favorite movie?  Think of one of the greatest films you’ve ever seen.  Still thinking?  Citizen Kane?  Casablanca?  Gone with the Wind?  Shut the fuck up!  Those so-called ‘cinema classics’ are abysmal in comparison to one.  Think of the highest money grossing movie of all time.  I bet you don’t know what it is.  Don’t give me the response I think you’re going to give.  I dare you to say Titanic.  I double dog dare you to tell me one of the Star Wars movies.  Fact: those movies are not the highest-grossing made movies in cinema history.  The celluloid those movies are stored on isn’t worth a whiff of the shit of the movie I’m referring to.  Every true Hollywood mogul knows for a fact that the highest-grossing movie and most poignant has been Taco Bell: THE MOVIE.  Let’s all face facts here for a second, please.  Please return your attention span to real life, so turn off your iPod Nano, your iPod Shuffle, your iPhone, your iBook, your bullshit.  Movies that deal with fast food restaurants are the real deal.  They’re the biggest moneymakers at the theaters.  Too bad people are too stupid to realize that.  It’s evident as you have heard and will read.  It was all predicated by the Mecca of all movies.  The granddaddy of them all is Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle.  The equation that predated Taco Bell: THE MOVIE was:

            Harold + Kumar + White Castle = the highest grossing picture in history

            Statistics nerds and media losers couldn’t grasp this notion.  It took one courageous and avant-garde movie producer, Marty Bergen, to take a gamble that paid off in an excess of a multi-billion dollar empire.  He is true bohemian.  Marty took a risk, bit the bullet, took a dive without a net, once took a fat girl out on a date, whatever metaphor you want to use as him taking a big chance.  He was initially apprehensive, but the dividends that followed not long after has him on top of every celebrity A-list along with everyone associated with this cinematic gem he made possible from inception to reality for posterity to rejoice and have some adulation towards our generation—the pioneers of cinema beauty.  Would you have taken the risk?  Seriously.  Take a step back and think about it.  You know why you answered no?  It’s because you lack heart and the tomahawk passion for a treasure that Marty has.  It’s alright, don’t feel bad.  Marty is what we people in the biz call a visionary.

The whole genius started three years before Taco Bell: THE MOVIE played at every Imax screen, every local cinema, and shattered the fuck out of every record.  Marty metaphorically dilated his cervix and gave birth to the idea while having lunch at a Taco Bell with his then friend and confidant Elizabeth Montgomery-Perez Mitchell Henderson.  You may have heard of her, too.  Yup, you’re right, she was originally supposed to play Laura in the movie—and you know what happened with her through the tabloids, so I shouldn’t go much further than that.  Marty was experiencing a slew of bad luck.  His two previous movies had bombed; Bicentennial Man 2: Son of Bicentennial Man, and the long-forgotten I Like My Coffee Sugar-Free: The Rick Moranis Story.  The movies brought Marty’s Hollywood credibility to an embarrassing level.  Both movies, combined, failed to bring in more than $5000.  Marty was on his last leg until he had an epiphany the day he and Elizabeth had lunch that fateful day.  Funny anecdote about that day: Marty felt like going to Burger King.  Elizabeth insisted they have lunch at Taco Bell.  Just think how different things would have been today if that happened.  Weird, right?

Marty ordered three chalupas, two soft tacos, and a drink while Elizabeth ordered a gordita, chicken quesadilla, and nachos.  She was cheap, so she asked for a cup for water because it was free and would then fill it with soda from the fountain.

“I’m really digging these chalupas,” Marty said.

“Yeah, this cup of ‘water’ isn’t so bad either,” Elizabeth responded with a wink.

“This place is great.  Ever think what this place would be like without the food and the people who work here?” Marty asked.

“Yeah, it wouldn’t exist.”

“Exactly!  I just had an epiphany!  What if people were made aware of this?”

“Of this place not existing?  Marty, I don’t follow…”

“No, you’re missing the point.  What I mean is of how essential this franchise is to Americans.”

“Marty, you wanted to go to Burger King.  Did you get high when you woke up again?”

“No.  I haven’t done that shit in over a week.  I’m being serious, Elizabeth.  I really haven’t had any cocaine in a week.  It’s hard to believe, right?  Look at my hand.  It’s not even shaking anymore.  I am totally cognizant as to what I am talking about.  This could be deep, like Pacific Ocean deep.  Americans take this place for granted and it’s time for them to realize how their lives would forever be altered for the worse if it was taken away from them.”

“Oh, I’ve heard the phrase ‘Pacific Ocean deep…’ before.  That’s what you said when you told me about the Rick Moranis movie, and looked how that panned out.”

“I know that’s what I said about Rick’s movie, but this one I have in mind will be like I am holding up a mirror to society and making it see that Taco Bell is as American and real as Shaquille O’Neil.  It will be powerful and reflective.  Think Al Gore’s Inconvenient Truth, but without the bullshit.”

“Why not make a movie about Burger King?  Why not a wholesome movie about Arby’s?  Nothing says American more than Wendy’s, so why not that?  Taco Bell serves American-made Mexican food.”

“Can’t you see what you just told me warrants the movie?  It’s Mexican food made in America.  America is a melting pot; an amalgam of Jews and everyone else.  We as Americans borrow from our Mexican friends.  Excuse me, our Mexican-American friends…”

“I don’t know, Marty.  If you’re confidant and steadfast with your decision, I suppose you should go for it.  You do seem more passionate about this than you did about the other two movies you made.  I think you should go for it.”

“I think I will.  I could go so many angles with this.  I mean, you know the success of Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle.”

“Why, of course, that goes without saying.”

“What I need to do is write a script.  I’m sure I could have one by Wednesday.  I will then need to call Jameson Trigger of Warner Bros. and pitch this to him.  I still have him on my speed dial.  I would finance this all on my own.  My grandmother is on her last leg.  Once she finally goes, I’ll be able to collect the massive inheritance that’s coming to me and then be able to put it all into this movie.”

“But what about Taco Bell?  You think they’ll allow you to use their name and stores?”

“Elizabeth, this movie is going to be huge.  I’m telling you.  I don’t foresee any difficulty getting the Bell on board with this project.”

“Well, if this does get made, I hereby volunteer my services if you need me on the set.”

“Thanks, Elizabeth.  Nothing will ever change that.  You are my lead actress no matter what,” Marty said and would completely disregard that comment a year later.

I don’t need to tell you that Marty wrote a powerful and riveting script that had it all.  It had romance, action, thrills, heart-shattering drama, a pinch of horror, and comic relief.  Jameson Trigger fell in love with the script and gave the movie a higher budget than Marty thought would be allotted.  In fact, Jameson Trigger so strongly believed in this project whole-heartedly that he offered to match the money that Marty would put in to the movie to double the production cost.  Marty’s grandmother eventually died and left him a fortune that he invested into the movie.  Along with the money Jameson Trigger added, Taco Bell: THE MOVIE was to be the costliest movie in history—let alone a movie based on a fast food franchise.  Taco Bell enthusiastically agreed to be a part of the movie after the CEO and board read the script.  They were anxious to shatter the numbers brought in to White Castle and Paramount after Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle came out. 

Now what was left was to cast the film and helm a director.  Marty and Trigger were flooded by offers from directors who were dying to be involved.  I won’t bore you with the names, but I’ll add in a few: Spielberg, Scorsese, Coppolla, Zemeckis, etc.  The studio decided to go ahead with a relative unknown.  They went with Al LaVerde.  He was a key grip in the Cher movie Mermaids who was now an aspiring director.  He promised to ‘bring the goods,’ if he were cast as the director, and that was as good as gold to Warner Bros. and Marty.  As far as the cast, the studio decided to go with more unknowns as the production cost was already astronomical.  They did have an influx of A-list Hollywood superstars who wanted to be a part of the film.  Brad Pitt optioned to co-produce the movie, but Marty gave him a polite but stern, ‘Nu-uh.’  He instead granted Pitt along with other superstars a cameo.  Pitt even offered to star in the movie pro-bono, but Marty saw it as pathetic and threatened to take away the cameo offer if Pitt didn’t stop sending fruit baskets to his house.

During pre-production of the movie, the surviving members of the Beatles, Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, unearthed a song they had recorded as the Beatles back in 1969 with band mates John Lennon and George Harrison.  It was originally going to be sent out as a special holiday gift to fans on their mailing list, but for reasons unknown was shelved for decades.  The song was a 5:35 cosmic gem and one of the only songs to have McCartney, Lennon, Harrison, and Starr singing alternate verses.  The song, “Serve Me Venus with Your Smile,” was referred to as:

“Lennon/McCartney at their most poignant songwriting and musical collaboration.  The reasoning for this song unearthing now is bewildering.  However, thank the heavens this song eventually saw life outside of a studio.  This song has the brutal honesty of ‘Blackbird,’ the overall jovial bounciness of ‘When I’m Sixty-Four,’ and the beautiful arrangement of ‘Eleanor Rigby’— along with the rock edginess of ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,’ ‘I Am the Walrus,’ and ‘Helter Skelter.’  Lyrically and musically, this is easily one of the best songs ever written.” – TIME

McCartney and Starr didn’t want to just release the song as a single and reap the benefits.  They thought that to be tacky.  Even though McCartney is a vegetarian, the humanity and earnestness of Taco Bell: THE MOVIE’s script brought him to tears and took him along on the rollercoaster ride of high stakes and awesome outcome.  He, along with Starr, decided to donate the song to Taco Bell: THE MOVIE: THE SOUNDTRACK, making the soundtrack to be the only one in history to have a sticker on the case reading, “Featuring the world premiere of a previously unreleased Beatles song and songs inspired by the film.”  It would not be released as a single by itself.  The only way to hear it was to buy the soundtrack to the movie.  That made headlines all over the world and made the soundtrack the highest preordered item in internet history.

Anticipation for the movie was through the ceiling, into the sky, and over the moon.  It was the highest anticipated movie of the year.  And the Oscar buzz wouldn’t stop.  Taco Bell stock couldn’t seem to go anywhere else but up.  The dividends were huge.  Prospects were so high that Taco Bell: THE MOVIE, itself, became a stock option as its own entity.  Owning a piece of Taco Bell: THE MOVIE stock was the hardest to get (NASDAQ: TBMV).  The principal stockholder was Morty Morgensen of Long Island, NY.  He was the former hot dog vendor outside of Peep World on 42^nd St. between Broadway and 7^th.  He was the most successful investor in stock market history.  Seriously, before this, he had nothing.  His hot dog and porn days were behind him as he was now featured on the cover of Forbes, Fortune, The Economist, Business Week, and Tiger Beat.  He only gave interviews next to his Olympic-sized swimming pool to have a more aesthetic interviewing experience.

With every movie comes a novelization of the movie.  Not everything in the script could be filmed in the movie.  Every top writer wanted to pen the novel version of Taco Bell: THE MOVIE.  Some of the authors were Stephen King, David McCullough, Frank McCourt, David Sedaris, Augusten Burroughs, Chuck Palahnuik, John Irving, etc.  But, neither author tickled Marty’s fancy until he received a heartfelt letter written in calligraphy by none other than J.D. Salinger—who was willing to make a triumphant return to the public epicenter and ditch his reclusive life.  Marty thought that was exactly the message he was trying to convey with the script he had written.  So, Marty finally had an author for the novelization of his movie.  J.D. Salinger would be coming out of his life of solitude to write Taco Bell: THE MOVIE: THE BOOK—his first piece of literature to be published in over four decades.

The film wrapped a year prior to the film’s actual release.  Taco Bell: THE MOVIE had made more headlines devoted to it than any other event or person in history.  This movie was historic in all accounts—just count how many times the word ‘history’ has been used thus far in this story.  The post-production and marketing (as if the movie needed any further marketing) was to commence.  There was a slight hiccup during the filming process concerning the former lead actress in the movie, and you know very well about that unless you live underneath a rock and never heard of Taco Bell or its wildly, worldly successful movie.  Of course, time flew by faster than anyone knew what had happened.

There were promotions run at every Taco Bell across the country, such as giving away free tacos to anyone who showed off a Taco Bell tattoo in anticipation of the blockbuster movie coming out.  Marty feared the movie would not live up to its hype, regardless of the high caliber star power the movie offers and the highly publicized novel and soundtrack.  He was starting to feel apprehensive and experiencing frequent panic attacks.  He would be consoled by the only thing he regarded as his friend, a Ziploc bag he would refill with cocaine.  He would snort it with prostitutes and their pimps in his mansion—which he bought with the advance he received from Warner Bros.

“Yo, Marty, man, why ain’t you snorting this blow harder than this ho?” Jerome said to Marty referring to Destiny, one of his ho’s.

“I don’t know, Jerome, I’ve been thinking about failure.  My other movies tanked at the box office, and all of a sudden I have the highest profiled movie in world history before its release.  This movie is bigger than wars, elections, and all that bullshit combined.  I don’t know what to do.  I have these enormous shoes to fill.  All of this will be on my shoulders, you know?”

“I know exactly how you feel, cheetah.  When I took over after Ernesto, I didn’t think I’d match his revenue.  You know Ernesto was the prime shit, right?  It was hard to take over the business after he was clubbed to death.  Shit, I remember watching the news reports about his brutal death and then getting a phone call from his wife Jasmine asking me to pimp her now that her husband was murdered.  I was like, ‘Hell no, skank-ass bitch.  I ain’t filling in for Ernesto.’  But, upon thinking about it and seeking the advice of my sansei, I offered to pimp that bitch, and look at me now.  I took over Ernesto’s empire with only seventeen ho’s.  Look at me now.  Look at how I’ve expanded his empire, his legacy.  I now have nineteen, almost twenty.  And I didn’t sweat it one bit.”

Marty was touched by the inspirational statement that Jerome relayed to him.  He then started to sob.

“But what if I’m not good enough?”

“Yo, motherfucker, you’re gonna be a big pimp around here and all over the world when this movie drops.  Hell, you’ll maybe be a bigger pimp than this cowboy,” he said referring to himself and offering Marty a smile.

“Really?  I’ll be a bigger pimp than you?”

“Motherfucker, you got the fucking Beatles contributing a fucking song to your soundtrack.  What the fuck you think?”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right, Jerome.  Pass the cocaine, pretty please?” Marty said and snorted cocaine off of Destiny’s ass.

June 3 marked the world premiere to critics of Taco Bell: THE MOVIE.  The movie was set to come out in mid-June, one of the summer juggernaut blockbusters.  This movie was expected to emasculate the competition.  Marty and the studio were anxious to hear the reviews.  They had the backing of every A-list celebrity, but they were now ready to hear what critics like Travis Lucian of Entertainment Weekly had to say about it.  He was notorious for ripping movies apart in reviews and not liking anything—a total dick.  If they had his backing, then they knew things would be great.  Every top critic was there.  Critics from Time, Entertainment Weekly, New York Times, Associated Press, BBC, NBC, ABC, CBS, Fox, every other fucking media conglomerate.

The next day, the reviews flooded in.  They were more than copasetic for Marty, Jameson Trigger, Warner Bros. and company.

“Never have I thought that any movie would ever be able to match the encapsulating wit and ever-so-present tenacity from the actors in Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle.  I would have told you that no other movie would ever be able to capture the essence of friends bonding and boding a movie dynasty—all with the setting of a fast food restaurant that serves to put all of us—Americans—together in one brief sitting to witness human nature unravel to an unwavering modesty until I witnessed the opening credits to Taco Bell: THE MOVIE.  Moviemaking has forever been revolutionized.  Thank you, Al LaVerde, for presenting your beautifully artistic vision to the big screen.  And a big thank you to Marty Bergen for making this dream a reality.  Taco Bell: THE MOVIE is a three hour and seventeen minute dream I never want to wake up from.” –Travis Lucian, Entertainment Weekly

“The star-studded cast is unbelievable.  Lines are delivered with pitch-perfect execution.  Never have I heard the phrase, “A double decker, please?” said with such eloquence and over the top dialogue from Paul Newman.  It is his most artistic statuesque performance since Cool Hand Luke.  The cameos are astounding.  From Robert De Niro requesting to use the restroom to Dakota Fanning vividly portraying a little girl whose parents accidentally leave her behind at a Taco Bell restaurant, this movie has it all.  It takes you along a suspenseful 900-miles-a-second rollercoaster ride as the bomb plot to destroy the Empire State Building is discovered and all of civilization is at a perilous, precarious, and pernicious state; the mysteries of the cosmic crystal of the Crystalline are unfolded; and the jilted, kilted lover roaming from Taco Bell to Taco Bell to find the wife he’s confident is cheating on him.  Drama is also represented as a set of twins separated at birth discover each other exist as they both, coincidentally, order a cheesy, beefy gordita at the same Taco Bell restaurant and discover a bond that their respective foster mothers could never take away from them.” – Hilary Oswald, The New York Times

“The movie had all the explosions to make this into a cool flick, and enough tears and emotions to bring the lady to and to totally get your grub on after the flick.  Try to not get hungry after this one.” – Lars Manning, Maxim

“The movie is great.  It’s over three hours, but never a dull moment.  It would have been an even greater accomplishment if they had incorporated the ‘Yo Quiero Taco Bell’ chihuahua into it.  Rumor has it that the pooch makes an appearance in a scene that was cut.  Here’s to waiting for the DVD to catch a peek at that in the deleted scenes.” – Max Henderson, Rolling Stone

The movie was a huge success, and Marty was poised to be a Hollywood legend.  Warner Bros. was ready to reap in millions of dollars.  There were already talks of a sequel.  A grand slam was hit by the company, and all that was left to do was wait and allow the money to be raked in.  The soundtrack was released the Tuesday before the movie’s Friday release, and it was sold out at every record and online store.  Copies of it were being sold on ebay and other auction sites for $700 each, minimum.  Warner Bros. Records was trying their hardest to manufacture more copies, but the demand was exceeding their capability to put the product out to the market.  They were that year’s Tickle Me Elmo.  Remember that?  That sucked because my girlfriend at the time wanted one and I couldn’t find it for her, so I assume a bunch of other relationships ended around this time like mine did because all the bitch wanted for Christmas or her birthday was that. 

Marty sympathized with that and my situation, but he was too busy making a shitload of money to ever care to commiserate.  The movie was going to be released on 10,317 screens, nationwide—the most screens for any movie on opening day in movie history.  Tickets had been sold out for weeks.  Everyone wanted to see it—especially teens and adolescents—but there was one problem.  The movie had received an R-rating due to its vulgarity, nudity, brief scene of bestiality, gore, violence, and adult situations.  Parents were forbidding their children to go see it.  That hindered children’s plans all across the world. 

Marty thought it would be great to release a kid-friendly version of his movie and put in CGI dragons voiced by Dom DeLuise and his son, Peter DeLuise, sometime in the future.  He is still trying to find Peter DeLuise.  Dom doesn’t even know where he is.

The advance ticket sales of the movie were astronomical.  The John Q. Public reviews were pouring out.  The IMDB.com Taco Bell: THE MOVIE page got an average meter rating of 10/10.

“Taco Bell: THE MOVIE rekindled the relationship between me and my estranged father.  We had not spoken since I came out of the closet to him 12 years ago.  I sent him a bootlegged copy of Taco Bell: THE MOVIE and he called me to thank me.  He then asked, ‘So, how are things…’ and I knew things were back to normal to that very day I when was 12 years old.” - tooter69@hotmail.com

“The movie was the f**king bomb!  I’m definitely gonna see it at least three more times.  I’ve already seen it twice!  Hey, Terrance, eat a d**k!” – Joey Macchio, 13, Shaker Heights, Ohio

“I proposed to my girlfriend at the premiere.  She said no, but the movie was balls to the walls awesome!” – Charles Donner, 41, Chicago, Illinois

“Like adrenaline?  Check.  Like chicks?  Check.  Like explosions?  Check.  Like finally getting your money’s worth in a movie?  Check.  Um, get the picture?” – Colin Powell, former Secretary of State of the United States

Marty thought it would be fun to have a mystery cameo in the movie and have viewers write in who they thought the mystery voice who took Laura and Bruce’s order at the drive-thru scene belonged to.  The answer is Rick Moranis, and even though Taco Bell: THE MOVIE was a tremendous success worldwide and Marty produced I Like My Coffee Sugar-Free: The Rick Moranis Story, no one has yet figured out who it is.

The movie’s theatrical release changed a piece of everyone’s life.  Everyone got to be enriched through inspiration and thought-provoking art on a movie screen.  Riots broke out when movie projections failed to show the movie in New York.  Seventeen people were hospitalized.  It was a totally fucked up scene.  I knew a guy who was there, and he said it totally sucked and shit.  Relationships were lost, relationships were gained, babies were born, tears were shed, laughter was heard, but everyone was unified in one way or another as Americans.

The DVD version of Taco Bell: THE MOVIE was released six months after the theatrical release, just in time for the holidays.  A special fourteen-disc Criterion version was released, and became an instant classic.  Special features included a 22-hour gag reel, director commentary, as well as commentary from Marty Bergen, himself, Hollywood’s man wonder.  There is also a very interesting and riveting two and a half hour special feature of Marty playing online poker and solitaire.  The behind-the-scenes footage, itself, was considered for an Oscar nomination, but later reconsidered.  However, Paul Newman and Jack Nicholson were nominated for best supporting actors based on their cameos in Taco Bell: THE MOVIE.

Marty considered retiring after the release of the golden nugget he laid, but hasn’t ruled any future projects out of any possibility.  As mentioned before, there is talk of a sequel.  The world is holding its breath.  Is the Bergen/LaVerde dynamic duo coming at us again with a Hollywood douche—I mean deuce?  Well, Marty’s not telling…

Everything I Learned About Being A Man I Learned From Charlie Ferrigno

Definitely, Accurately

Why does the inside of my car smell like dried dog shit on a humid Thursday

mid-afternoon?  I assume as you’re reading this you may think I have an odor
problem, but that assumption would be far from the truth.  The truth of the
matter is that I’ve won many body odor competitions.  Some of them were
entered by people as far as Omaha, Nebraska.  I remember there was once a
guy at that said competition who swore he could absorb any punch or impact
to his stomach.  I got my wife Hilda to kick him as hard as she could with
her heels against his stomach.  The poor son of a bitch squealed harder than
the pig I saw my cousin Eli molest that one summer during ‘Nam.  Anyway,
my car still smells like fucking cheese.  There is no valid explanation to
it.  I have bought an assortment of air fresheners, from Marvin’s Fresh to
Travis’ Shit Pile Turned To Daisies brand.  Maybe it could be Hilda?  No, it
couldn’t be.  I started washing the back of her ears recently, so it can’t
be her.  She’s clean now, I tell ya’.  The stench has got me loathing any
dairy, any yellow, and any white.  Dang.  I can’t seem to get rid of it.
I’m going to have to take everything out of the car and hose it down.  Maybe
I should start with taking out Hilda’s body from the trunk.

____________________________________________________________

So I was waiting at the bus stop the other day.  I was listening to that new Crocodile Dundee comedy album.  You know, the one where he says, “G’day, mate,” or something like that.  Anyway, while I’m standing there, listening and waiting, this midget who can’t be taller than 3’9” walks by me.  He stops right next to me, looks at the bus schedule, and then turns to walk away until he sees me and is startled.  He steps back for a second.  He then laughs and says to me, “Hey, tall guy, how’s the weather up there?  You sure can’t be lost in a crowd!  You’re so adorable.  I just want to take you home with me and place you in the middle of my living room.”  I was starting to get a little uncomfortable.  He kept heckling me due to my height.  “Hey, tall asshole, I’m talking to you,” he said.  I didn’t know what else to do, so I just raised the volume to the Dundee.  He wouldn’t stop bothering me.  I had just about enough of these fucking midgets bothering me about my height.  All he did was point, laugh, and poke me on the shoulder with his very big umbrella.  I then got flustered and said, “May I help you, sir?”  “Yes, die, motherfucker,” he said as he flipped me the middle finger, and then got into a Mercedes that was parked by the bus stop and drove away.  Why did he even bother looking at the bus schedule?  Discrimination, will there ever be a cure?

____________________________________________________________

Remember when boys used to put their dicks on their friends’ faces and take Polaroid pictures of them while they were asleep?  We thought it would be funny if we did that to my Uncle Rodney.  We were totally going to have an awesome laugh.  My cousin Riddick and I were ready.  He was going to put his dick on our Uncle Rodney’s face.  He did it and I took the picture.  We totally had an awesome laugh.  It was a different age back then.  Today, it’s all about Crocodile Dundees and Carrot Tops.  People are all afraid to have dicks on their faces now ever since the internet became prominent.  What’s with that?  My Uncle Rodney I guess is a member of that ‘old school’ generation because he will not flinch for a second if you put your dick on his face.  He’ll brush his teeth with that shit, he doesn’t care.

793 Words

How many more minutes will I say is the last?  This must be so funny for the guy who took my order.  He’s laughing his ass off in the back, I’m sure of it.  I can’t help but look at my reflection on the napkin disposer without the urge to laugh at my pathetic self.  I’ve been here long enough that the radio station the pizzeria has on its loudspeaker has started to repeat songs.  Half a pie has already been eaten.  The other half must be too cold to even eat at this point.  The waiter comes up to me and asks if everything is fine and if I am still expecting someone.  Yes, yes, she’s a little late is what I tell him, but you know it’s bad when you have the same conversation with the same waiter three times.  He’s definitely waiting for me to leave.  I must be his last table for the night.  I just order water and water, and some more water.  Why does this always happen to me?  She’s probably laughing with her friends at my expense.  Sure, it was so funny to accept my offer to go out on a date at a pizzeria.  Sure, it was hilarious.  She and her friends are probably looking at me from a car parked across the street or something.  I’ve already used the restroom four times.  The bus boy probably thinks I’m doing something other than using the urinals at this point.  I’d make fun of myself, too, if I were everyone else.  Look at me here.  How pathetic is this?  I got dressed up for no reason whatsoever.  Yes, I am a tool, laugh away at me.  I’ll give her one more minute, I mean it this time.  Just one more!  But, what if after I leave, she really comes in?   What if she was in a terrible accident?  Every time I call her cell phone, it goes straight to voicemail.  How could I be certain?  No, she’s fine.  She just played a prank on me, that’s all.  How could someone do this to someone else?  I would never do this to anyone.  I should give myself credit for even asking her out on a date, shouldn’t I?  I don’t even want to see her on Monday.  How am I even going to react?  Should I act like nothing happened?  I probably will, knowing myself.  I am such a pushover.  What will I tell my friends?  I should make up a story.  This is far too embarrassing.  What should I say?  I could say I got caught up doing something else, and that I didn’t show up at the pizzeria either.  Yeah, that sounds pretty good.  That way I don’t sound like a loser.  How about my parents?  What will I tell my mother when I get home?  I’ll just lie to her and say the date didn’t go too well, and that she and I didn’t mesh well.  Oh, great, the waiter just pointed at me while talking to a coworker.  I guess I should leave.  Good thing I didn’t buy her the flower.  I guess it was good judgment not to buy her one.  I really would have been depressed if I had.  I must have deserved this one way or another.  This embarrassing situation doesn’t happen for no reason.  This girl wouldn’t have done this to me for nothing.  I don’t know.  I just won’t talk to her ever again.  I don’t want to look at my watch and know exactly how long I’ve been here.  This is so stupid.  That’s it, I’m leaving.  I should take her half and bring it home for my parents to eat.  No, stupid, don’t do that!  Then they’ll suspect something.  I guess I’ll just eat it for myself or give it to a homeless person.  I just want to go home and go to sleep in my bed, and forget this disaster ever happened.  I’m such a sucker.  I’ll just finish my water and leave.  Alright, I just asked for the check.  I’ll give this guy a nice tip for his patience.  The money is what I would have spent on her during our date, anyway.  I shouldn’t feel sorry for myself.  Things can’t get any worse.  Why did this happen to me?  I must have done something to deserve this, but what?  Good thing this pizza was good.  There, those are two things that were good; me not buying the rose and the good pizza.  I guess today was well-worth going out.  Who am I kidding?  I could never come back to this place.  These guys will never forget this embarrassing and pathetic moment.  I’ve got to quickly get out of here and never come back.

You’re Prettier in the Dark

            Welcome to the nightmare that is my life.  I can’t believe I am even going to divulge information to you.  If you read this, I will surely kill you and then myself out of embarrassment.  The past seventeen years of my life have been nothing short of pathetic.  I can’t even stand it anymore.  I am writing to you as I sit here in detention after an altercation involving mega-bitch Sally Marshall.  I can’t wait until she contracts a sexually transmitted disease and bleeds to death out of her vagina or chokes on her vibrator, whichever comes first.  I don’t know why I am even writing this.  We’re not allowed to talk, but Mr. Bryan said we could do our homework.  Too bad I was stupid enough to do it during study hall.  Why is it that when I actually do something productive, there’s always a better pay-off to do it at a later time?  I’ve never kept a diary before, so I guess this could sort of make up for it.  Who’s going to read this, anyway?  Maybe I’ll hide it somewhere and wait until someone else finds it.  It’s too late for you to escape anyway, since you’ve read this far.  I am on my way now to kill you and then offing myself.  It’ll be a gift from me to the both of us, trust me.  I’m sure you know what a bitch and slut Sally is anyway.  She is the town whore.  She’s pretty much tasted every guy—EVEN YOUR DAD, I bet.  Don’t judge me as a pessimistic or cynical bitch.  I’m really not.  I am a nice girl who comes from a semi-loving family.  I have met my share of oddities and people who would have benefited if they had been aborted, though, I’ll admit.  I can’t wait to get away from them all this fall when I go away to college.  I need a change of scenery.  I need to meet new people and avoid others—like some boys in my life.  I am not saying I am the be-all-and-end-all, but I do need to avoid some boys.  Argh, who am I kidding?  I am referring to only one.  Now, I am not the most gorgeous girl in the school, but it’s just that the guys who show interest in me could be child molesters just itching to take the long way home and pass the playground—especially the real winner I am referring to.  I also need to get away from whores like Sally.  As certain as I am my period is the third of every month, I am certain I saw her masturbate after gym in the shower one day.  She’ll deny it, but I totally saw her.  She said it was ‘an itch,’ but let’s not play stupid.  Enough with the introductory mumbo-jumbo, I’ll introduce myself to you.  I won’t give out any last names besides Sally Marshall’s because you may have already heard of her.  Just ask your little brother.  My name is Alexis.  As I wrote a few lines up, I am a senior and today is May 3, so figure out why I’m so pissed.

            Where should I start?  Well, my parents are one of those socially awkward couples that don’t do anything else with other people but fight with each other all the time.  I hope I don’t turn out like them.

            “Alexis, why don’t you start wearing make-up more often?” My mother asked me once.

            “I don’t feel like wearing it.  Are you saying I’m ugly?” I responded to her.

            “No, I am not, sweetie.  All I am saying is that you could enhance your beauty a little.  Is that such a mean thing to say?  I haven’t heard any boys calling to speak to you.  That must say something…” She said to me.

            She could be a bitch, I know.  She is always condescending to everyone—especially my dad.  They’ve almost gotten divorced a number of times and have gotten separated even more than that.  The true irony is that they’re both divorce lawyers.  My father and I don’t really have much of a social life together.  I think it must have started about seventeen years ago when he saw I didn’t have a penis.  Since then, we hit sort of a rough patch.  He gets me what I want for my birthday, which is sort of cool.  I don’t know whether he does this on purpose or what, but he always leaves the price tag on the gifts he gets me.  He usually does half-assed attempts to blacken out the tag with a marker.  Once, he ‘accidentally’ blackened the price tag with a highlighter.  My parents make a good income, I mean they’re both lawyers.  But, what do they do?  They decide to send me to this school.  I’m pretty certain the kid who has the locker to the left of me has a gun hidden in there, while I know that the one to the right has a machete.  It’s too bad they’re both in rival gangs.

            This school is a mess.  People like Sally Marshall are the princesses of the hallways.  They’re so gross.  They have no regard for other people.  I remember like it were yesterday when I met Sally.  We’ve been in the same gym class for all four years.  I don’t know how that happened, but she’s a fake bitch who would seriously stab you in the back to further herself.  She did it to me.  We used to be friends.  Then one day, we were going to shoplift from the 99¢ store, and she decided to screw me over by planting some of the items in my bag without me knowing while trying to impress some other kids by screwing me over and making me the butt of her joke.  The kids she was going to impress were cooler because they were sophomores while we were freshmen.  I got into so much shit for that.  After that point, as if she morphed into another person, she started hanging out with that new clique and acting like a bitch towards me.

            “Hi, Alexpiss,” she cleverly said in front of her new friends.

            “What the fuck is your problem?  You do realize I am grounded for like three months because you, right?” I said to her.

            “Sorry it happened, but you had to see the look on your face.  It was well worth it,” she said.

            “Fuck you.  Don’t you ever talk to me again.  You’re no longer invited to come over so we could braid each others hair,” I said to her, and then her and her minions started laughing at me.  I walked away, but heard her say, “Bye, Alexpiss, hope your daddy doesn’t have another shitfit.” 

She then continued explaining a story she was apparently the middle of telling before I showed up, “So, I was like, ‘Jimmy, fine, I’ll suck it, but I’m not gonna like it!’” She said to the group of friends she was with.

            “You showed him, Sal,” one of her friends said.

            “You definitely stood your ground by saying that,” said another friend of hers.
            With Sally not my friend anymore, I was running low with friends.  The truth of the matter is that I had none other than her.  When she realized she was actually attractive and got the attention of older kids, she dropped me faster than an unwanted baby on prom night.  I had no choice but to start hanging out with my cousin.  He is still pretty cool.  We still get along and all.  He was the coolest twelve year old I’d ever known.  We were into the same things and all.  He was and possibly still is too into Star Wars and sci-fi, though.  I didn’t really like it, but it would give me an excuse to actually go out on weekends.  I started going to those Star Wars conventions with him sophomore and junior year.

            The freak show at a Star Wars convention is totally worth going to them.  He would always dress up as an Ewok.  I thought it was kind of pathetic, but he said I was whenever I would go with him and wouldn’t dress up.  The truth of the matter is that even in these geeks’ eyes, I was pathetic because I was like the only one who didn’t dress up.  I couldn’t (and still can’t) fit in anywhere.  Anyway, we went to one every six months.  I would stay in the corner and just be awestruck by these human specimens as they walked around.  Some of them were even as old as my parents.  So anyway, there is a point to this.  One time when I was there, I was approached by this one thing.  This thing was a person dressed as Yoda, you know the Jedi master and shit.  He had the ears on and all.  I couldn’t help but laugh in his face at first.

            “Hi, so whatcha doing here with all these dorks?” He said as he was scratching his left arm. “This green make-up really gives me a rash.”

            “I’m here with my cousin…he’s twelve.  How old are you?” I asked.

            “Old enough, sweet stuff.  Damn, I’m itching all over, even the back of my neck,” he said as he started scratching the back of his neck and pulled it out.  To this day, I am convinced the whole rash gimmick was an anecdote to reveal it.  He pulled out a rattail.  What guy has a rattail this day in age unless he’s openly dating his thirteen year old sister?

            “I’m sorry, did that scare you?” He asked, referring to whether I was scared of his rattail.

            “Oh, my, it is big, and a little intimidating, but I think I’ll be alright,” I said.

            “Yeah, get that all the time.  I have it ‘cuz I’m a padawan,” he said.

            “Is that a town in Puerto Rico?” I asked.

            “No, but that is funny,” he said in a condescending tone as if I should feel bad for not knowing what the fuck a padawan was.

            “A padawan is a Jedi in training,” he said. “I am learning from the master.”

            “I thought you were supposed to be Yoda.  Isn’t he a Jedi master?” I asked.

            “You’re missing the point!” He said with a tone of annoyance. “This is all for fun, for games, for the kids.  Real life is real life, and I am really a padawan.”

            “What’s you name?” I asked him.  I was totally intrigued by this freak.

            “You want my Jedi name or my mortal name?” He asked.

            I was tired of playing games.

            “Forget it, I don’t care,” I said.

            “PIPER!  My name is Piper!” He said.

            “Well, hello, Piper.  My name is Alexis.”

            “What brings you here with these dorks and kids, Alexis?  You’re kind of a good-looking girl,” he said to me.

            “Thanks….I am here with my cousin.  He’s a lot younger than you,” I said.

            “Oh, a novice.  Well, if he needs to learn the way of the force, he could place his trust upon he.  I promise I won’t sway him to the dark side…much,” he said.

            I was tired of all the Star Wars jargon.

            “So, yeah, my cousin ran off, and I need to find him.  There are a lot of weirdos out there and bright future child molesters with a lot of promise lurking around here.  I’d better go,” I said.

            “How about we look for him together?” He said. “I know this place pretty well.  We’ll find him in no time.”

            Now, being that I never caught up on the art of flirting or being hit on, I just thought this guy was generally creepy, and not really trying to rub up against me—which he did while looking for my cousin.

            “Sorry, this is a big cloak.  Even too big for me,” he would say when I felt a rub on my ass.  This guy was seriously creepier than I thought when I think back in hindsight.  He knew the area pretty well, though.  We found my cousin in no time.

            “Michael, there you are.  Don’t you ever stray off like that again without telling me where you’re going,” I said to him and a little pissed because if he hadn’t run off, I wouldn’t have had to spend more time with this guy.

            “I think it’s about time we left,” I said to the both of them. “I’ll call my mom to come pick us up.”  As I was stepping away to use the payphone, I looked back and saw my cousin standing with Piper.  I got so uncomfortable, so I went back and pulled my cousin’s hairy Ewok sleeve.

            “Maybe it would be a good idea if you came with me,” I said to him while not taking my eyes off of Piper.  I was seriously afraid. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Piper.  We’ll see you again at the next Star Trek convention.”

            “WARS!  STAR WARS!” He said.

            “Right…” I said and pulled Michael away.

            When I called my mom, no one picked up after fifteen rings.  On the sixteenth, she picked up sounding like she was drunk and crying.

            “Hello?!” She said.

            “Mom, it’s Alexis.  Michael and I are done here, could you come pick us up?”

            “Alexis!  Darling!  I can’t come get you!  I think I may have drank a little too many, if you know what I mean.”

            “Fine, how about dad?  Could he come get us?”

            “I’m afraid your f-f-f-father no longer lives here.  I kicked him out.”

            “You what?!  What is that, like seven times in two years?  I find it difficult for him to not want to come home to such a winner like you,” I said sarcastically.

            “I know, right?!  Your father is what us older women refer to as an asshole.  You know what an asshole is?”

            “I think I get the point.”

            “Yes, if you look at the family portrait in the living room, you’ll find a picture of your father.  That is the definition of ‘asshole.’  When are you driving home?  I’ve made breakfast for you.”

            “Mom, first of all, I don’t have a license.  Second of all, we ate breakfast earlier.  And third of all, you don’t cook.  What’s your problem?”

            “My problem is that I married your father, an asshole.”

            “So, yeah, um, I guess I’ll take the bus.”

            “Yes, dear, that sounds wonderful.  I’ll see you next Wednesday, then,” and she hung up.

            “Shit…” I said as I sighed.  I then looked at my cousin dressed as an Ewok, and pretty sure he was completely naked under that costume, so I couldn’t ask him to take it off when we boarded the bus.  I really didn’t want to board the bus, but we had no other option.

            Sitting on the bench at the bus stop, I couldn’t help but feel utterly embarrassed with myself, and not just because I had my cousin next to me dressed as an Ewok, but because of the joke my life was.  I was resorted to go to those fucking Star Wars conventions because I didn’t have any friends.  My parents were insane, and my mother was slowly but surely on that slippery slope to becoming an alcoholic.  What did I have going on for myself in my life?  Don’t try to answer that question as you read this because you won’t be able to come up with an answer.  Anyway, as I couldn’t sink any lower waiting for that bus, a station wagon stopped past us, reversed, and the passenger window rolled down.  I was about ready to be pelted with eggs or paintballs.  I then saw Piper stick his head out of the window and then exclaim, “That’s them, mom!  I told you I made friends today!  Alexis!  It’s me Piper!  You need a ride home?!”

            I was embarrassed enough as it was, so why not sink lower?  I accepted and my cousin and I got into the back seat.  The oddest thing was that Piper’s mother didn’t say a word while driving.  Not one word.  Piper was the one doing all of the talking.

            “So Alexis, did you like the convention today?  I think it’s starting to sell out.  It’s definitely getting too commercial.  Don’t you agree, Ewok?”

            “I guess…” I said.  My cousin knew better.  I wish I had pretended to fall asleep like he did.

            “Do you listen to music, Alexis?”

            “Sometimes…”

            “Well, you have to check out Metallica in case you haven’t already.  They’re like the greatest band in the world.  They rock so hard.  They have the coolest designs.  I’m thinking about getting a tattoo of one of them.  Pretty cool, huh?”

            “I guess.  I don’t really know too much about them.  Say, thanks a lot for the ride, miss,” I said to Piper’s mother.  She gave no response back at all.

            I tried looking out the window to block out everything I had gone through that day, but Piper made it virtually impossible.

            “Did you see that dork at the convention dressed as Mace Windu?  I mean he was a white guy!  Hello, Earth to the third moon of Tatooine!  Mace Windu is black!”  I heard things like that throughout.  It is still the longest 20 minute car ride I have ever taken.

            When we finally got dropped off, Piper got out of the car and opened the door for me and my cousin.  It was a small, nice gesture like that I really longed for.  No one was that nice to me anymore.  I then started thinking that this guy wasn’t so bad after all.  He was definitely a dork, but maybe he was friend-worthy.  I mean, I thought my cousin was the coolest kid I knew, and he’s into Star Wars, so maybe this guy was cool, too.

            “You want to hang out sometime?” He asked me.

            “You know what, sure, why not?” I said to him.

            “Oh, great!  What’s your number?” He said as he quickly pulled a pen from the glove compartment and wrote my number on his forearm after I gave it to him.

            “Have a great night and awesome tomorrow, Alexis!” Piper said to me.

            Michael and I watched television until it was ten o’clock.  His mother came by and picked him up.  When he and his mother left, mine came crawling from her bedroom.

            “What the fuck was that noise?!  Anyone in here?” She said.

            “No, mom, it’s just me,” I responded.

            “Oh.  Did you hear that your father just packed up his things and left?!  I mean, the audacity!”

            “That’s funny, because you told me you kicked him out.”

            “Oh, you’re such a smart girl!  You’re also a fucking brat!”

            “Mom, it’s ten p.m., I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”

            “Don’t tell me what to do.  I tell you what to do, and I am ordering you to put on more make-up.  Didn’t I tell you this a while ago?” She said and then turned off the lights in the living room.  I turned them back on.

            “Alexis, don’t turn the lights on, honey.  You’re prettier in the dark,” she said to me.

            “Fuck you,” I said to her and stormed into my room and slammed the door.

            I was so sick of the shit I was going through.  My best friend at the time ditched me, my mother was a drunk, my father was nowhere to be found, and the only person who had ever shown interest in me most likely stared at his penis in the mirror.  I needed a new direction in life.  I was going to see what this guy Piper was really all about.  Coincidentally enough, he called me like five minutes later.

            “Hi, is this Alexis?”

            “Hi.”

            “Hey, this is Piper.  Remember?  I’m the guy from the Star Wars convention whose mom drove you home!”

            “Hi.”

            “If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, I’m free.  I finished all of my homework, and so my mom said I could have a fun day.  What do you say I ride my bike to your house and we go bike riding and go to the mall or something?”

            “Sure.  I hear there’s a new arcade open there.  What do you say we check that out?”

            “Eh, I don’t care much for arcade games, but we could do other things at the mall!”

            I was totally thrown off guard by that.  How could this guy not be into arcade games?  This was the Jedi apprentice who dressed up as Yoda as a hobby, right?

            “Alright, we’ll see where the day takes us.  When do you think you’ll be over?” I asked.

            “How about I show up at 7:30?” He said.

            “Isn’t that a little late?  The mall closes at nine,” I said.

            “No, I meant 7:30 in the morning.”

            “Oh.  No, I don’t think that would work either.  I’ll be asleep.  How about we do normal people time and say around noon or one?”

            “Sure…I guess…if you say so…” he said in a defeated tone.

            “Hey, Piper, I have to go.  I’m going to have some smoothies with my mom,” I said as I heard my mother throwing up in the bathroom toilet across the hall. “I have to go.  I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I hung up. 

It didn’t matter that I hung up on him.  I knew he would come anyway.  Even though someone being interested in me was new to me, I knew that I had free reign to do whatever I wanted when it came to this kid.  I didn’t even bother checking up on my mother.  The last thing I remember from that night was her vomiting, crying and saying, “Oh, shit…”

            The next day was my triumphant day with Piper, and let me tell you that the kid was even creepier than I originally thought.  First, let me start off by saying that when I woke up that morning, my mother acted as if the night before never occurred.  It was common, and I got used to it.  Whatever mess she may have left on the bathroom floor was cleaned up, and of course, my father had come back earlier that morning and they patched things up.  It was as if they eradicated everything that occurred; all the tears and swearing.  Again, it was a common occurrence here.  I was getting caught up on my homework when I heard a ring at the door.  It was Piper with sunglasses on.  He was wearing croakies with them.  In case you don’t know what croakies are, they’re the laces that you attach to the frame of your sunglasses so that they are able to hang around your neck.  I have nothing against them, except when they’re neon green and you have a rattail.  He showed up in his bicycle like he said he would.  My mother was thrilled to hear a boy was taking me out that day.  I think she may have had some slight thoughts that I might have been a lesbian.

            “Hey, puma cub,” he said to me as I opened the door.  You know you’re a sudden loser whenever you refer to someone as ‘puma cub.’  I was starting to resent my decision to hang out with this guy.

            “Hi,” I said. “Mom, I’m going out and I’ll be back a little later.”

            “Wait a second, Alexis.  Well, hello, there…” She said to Piper.

            “Piper.  The name is Piper.  How do you do, madam?” He responded.

            “I am doing quite well, thanks for asking.  That is an interesting look you have there,” she said to him.

            “Well, I am a Jed—” he said before I interrupted.

            “Mom, we’re on a tight schedule.  We have to go.  I’ll be back around ten,” I said as I saw Piper lick his fingers and then rub his rattail with them. “I mean, seven,” I then said to my mom.

            I led Piper to my garage to get my bike and felt him rub my ass again after I opened the garage door.  I then snapped.

            “Listen, you’d better fucking stop with that, I’m serious.  You were doing it yesterday when I met you while looking for my cousin.  I’m serious.  You pull that shit again and I’ll punch you in the face.  I’m not joking,” I said.

            “What are you talking about?  I adhere by the highest virtues.  I would never, ever do such a thing,” he responded.

            “Then how do you know to what I’m referring to?” I responded.

            “Pretty cool garage,” he said after I said that.

            I ignored him and grabbed my bike.  This was the first time I was hanging out with someone my own age on a weekend in a long time.  He was actually a pretty cool guy at first.  He was doing some neat tricks on his bike.  I have to say that I was impressed.  As we were passing Horace and 9^th, we saw a comic book store that was opening up.

            “That’s pretty cool, right?” I said referring to the comic book store.

            “Yeah, I guess.  Comics are pretty lame.  I bet they sell swords and run a sweat shop in there,” Piper said.

            “What would make you say such a thing?” I responded.

            “Look at them—they’re Asian,” he said.

            “Whatever, weirdo,” I said to him.

            “I’ll make you pay for calling me that,” Piper said in a serious tone.

            “Huh?  I was joking, Piper.”

            “Oh?  I get it.  Yeah, that was pretty funny,” he said.

            As we were riding, I noticed that he still had my phone number written on his forearm from the day before.  It had a heart around it.  He saw that I noticed it, so he started riding ahead of me.

            He peddled as fast as he could, leaving me behind, and made a u-turn back to me.  As he was peddling back to me pretty quickly, he let go of his bicycle handle and started singing, “I feel so alive/for the very first time/and I think I can fly…” with his arms stretched out.

            “That was P.O.D.,” he said.

            “Oh?”

            “I like to sing that as I ride fast.  It’s pretty bitchin’,” he said.

            “I bet,” I said.

            “You should try to sing that while you peddle pretty fast.  It’ll make you feel alive,” he said with a smirk on his face.

            “No, I think I’d rather not,” I responded to him.

            We finally reached the mall without saying much after that P.O.D. moment, which I find embarrassing even as I write this.  The mall was packed as usual.

            “It’s packed here,” I said.

            “Yeah.  It’ll just take some kid standing there with a hard-on sticking out of his pants.  Hope I don’t go breakin’ it off,” Piper said.

            “What?  What are you talking about?”

            “Oh, I just quoted ‘The Crush.’  You know, the movie with Alicia Silverstone?” He said.

            “Oh, I don’t know what to say about that, Piper, I honestly don’t.”

            The power of coincidence is strong, isn’t it?  What were the odds of both me and Piper running into Sally Marshall at the mall?  I thought they were pretty slim, too, until I remembered that Sally was a teenage girl and probably spends more time at the mall than at her house.

            “Hi, Alexpiss,” she said to me.  She was with two other girls.

            “Good to see you, too, Sally,” I said.

            “I see you’re here with a boy!” She said.

            “Hi, my name’s Piper,” he said as he put his hand out for Sally to shake.

            “Piper?  Alexpiss, you’re dating a guy named Piper?  How, like, dumb is that?” She said and started laughing with her friends.

            “Sally is your name, huh?” Piper said. “You have such pretty blond hair,” he said as he pet her hair.

            “Ew, get away from me, freak,” she said as she and her friends quickly walked away a little weirded out. “Have fun making chimp fetuses,” she said.  It was pretty gross and ironic, considering she would probably even suck a gorilla’s dick if she had the chance to.

            Anyway, petting Sally’s hair was an ultra-weird gesture, but I liked the fact that he got her a little scared.  It’s too bad he also got me a little scared, too.

            “She was pretty cool,” he said.

            “She’s anything but.  Hey, there’s the arcade I was talking about over the phone to you, want to play?”

            “Sure, I guess…”

            The arcade was really cool.  It had a ton of games, a fooseball table, ping-pong, air hockey, the works.  I’m sure you’ve been there.  You could verify how cool the arcade mall is.  It was also the first place I ever played Street Fighter 2.

            “You know, I’ve never actually played this game before,” I said to Piper.

            “Me neither.”

            “Play with me.”

            “Alright.”

            For a kid who was literally every sense of the word a geek, he sucked at video games.  I kicked his ass so badly in that game, and it was pretty boring because it was no challenge at all.  It was probably more fun pretending to play the demo to see how the game is played than it was actually playing with Piper.  We went on to play air hockey, and he sucked at that, too.  He had no sense of real fun at all.  He also looked like he was having the most miserable time playing these games.

            “Are you having any fun here, Piper?” I asked him after being at the arcade for an hour.

            “No, not really.”

            “What do you do for fun?” I asked him.

            “I do stuff, I don’t know.”

            I was curious as to what a self-proclaimed Jedi does for fun.  I wanted to explore Piper’s world.

            “You don’t know?  Why don’t you take me to a place where you have the most fun?” I asked him.

            “Really?” he asked in disbelief.

            “Sure, why not?”

            He led me out of the mall and we rode our bikes for about eight blocks, and we stopped in front of a house.

            “This is where I live.  Want to come in?” He asked.

            I was pretty nervous to go into this guy’s house.  I was also kind of pissed because I had dug this hole for myself.  I was going to be on my guard at all time, and was ready to punch him in the face at any cost, despite the fact he has an insane mother.

            “Sure, I guess I’ll follow you in, Piper,” I said to him.  “But, let me walk behind you.”

            His house was unreal.  Everything had plastic covers over it—even the refrigerator.  There were holes cut out on the door to enable you to open and close it.  There was also a big chalkboard in the middle of the kitchen.  I was so freaked out and curious as to why this kid and his family were weirdos.

            He took me to his room, and it looked like the way you would expect it.  He had pictures of different spaceships from various television shows and movies, a huge X-Files poster with his head pasted on Agent Fox Mulder’s body, and a picture of an alien that had the caption ‘Abduct Me!’ under it among other things like a box that read, “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 2025…SERIOUSLY!”

            “We’ll be off to Never Neverland in two seconds, baby.  Let me put this on,” he said as he pulled out a CD and inserted it into his stereo. “Make yourself comfortable on my bed.”

            I think I saw a white spot on his pillow case which I’m still pretty sure was dried semen.  This kid’s room’s walls have probably seen things no man or pubescent boy should ever see.

            “I think I’ll lie on the floor,” I said.

            “Wise choice,” he said.  I still don’t know why he said that.

            He turned off the lights, but the room was still illuminated with the glow-in-the-dark stars he had all over his ceiling.  Metallica then started playing.  I’m not sure which song it was, but it sucked—it all sucked.

            He laid down next to me and started playing air drums.

            “Listen to this part…Oh, yeah, you heard Lars hit that?  It is unreal!  It is unreal!”

            I was quickly getting bored.  I was afraid to storm out because I knew he was going to have a conniption.  I just laid there and tried not to fall asleep.  I would never feel the same again if I would have fallen asleep and known that certain things that should never be inside of me would have somehow gotten in there, knowing this fucking freak.  I didn’t trust him or his greasy, sweaty hands one bit.

            I then heard banging on the wall.  It scared the shit out of me.

            “MOM!  I FINISHED ALL OF MY HOMEWORK!  THIS IS MY TIME!  DON’T RUIN IT!  MOM, THIS IS MY TIME, FUN TIME!  YOU SAID, YOU SAID!” Piper screamed.  I didn’t know what to do.  I just stayed silent and looked at my watch.  It was 5:16.

            “You know,” Piper said to me. “I’m glad we’re spending this time together.  I don’t know what I ever did without you.  I’m so glad we’re together.  You and I, we share a common bond.  You’re my little Padme.  I would kill myself if you ever broke up with me.” 

I had just about enough of this fucking guy.  After he said that, it sent a chill so far up my spine that my scalp went numb.

            “That’s it, I am out of here.  I can’t take this anymore.  I really can’t.  Piper, you’re really one fucked up kid in the fucking head.  You really need to see a psychologist and get it fixed!  You may have left it in a galaxy far, far away or some shit—”

            “Yeah!  A Star Wars reference!  I like where this is—”

            “Shut the fuck up!  I fucking hate Star Wars!  I hate your house, I hate your music, I hate the fact that I am fucking here.  And, seriously, fuck your mother!  I am so out of here!”

            “Does this mean we’re not going to the next Star Wars convention?”

            “Piper, leave me the fuck alone.  I don’t know you, and you don’t know me from this point on.  You’re a creepy fuck who has some serious issues.  I will seriously file a restraining order against you if you come near me.  My parents are divorce lawyers!” I said as if they were real lawyers.

            I then heard the banging on the wall again.

            “Yeah, fuck you, too!” I yelled out to his mother and stormed out.  I heard Piper throw a fit in his room and started knocking everything off of the shelves and screaming from the kitchen.  I then heard his mother come into his room.

            “PIPER, WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?!” she screamed.  I heard glass shatter, and after I heard that, I seriously got the fuck out of that house and rode my bike back home as fast as I could.  I was faster than lightening.  I never felt such a surge of adrenaline.

            When I got home, I ran into my room and was grateful to know my parents were assholes and not sociopaths, as I am sure Piper and his mother were.  I wouldn’t even want to meet his father.  I just accepted the fact that I was going to be a different breed of loser.  There are many sects of being a loser.  I decided from that point on to be a loner loser; someone who would rather play Connect Four by herself or something like that.  I just want to wait until college to meet new friends.  High school was a lost cause.  I didn’t really try to hang out with anyone else again, and still don’t.  My parents are still retarded as usual.  I think both my parents are actually having affairs, but that’s a whole different can or worms that I’d rather not write about here.  That’s the reason why I’m in detention anyway.  You know it’s fucked up to ever say anything about a dysfunctional family to a person who’s in it.  That’s what Sally did.

            “So, Alexis, I saw your mother pull out a beer in the beverage isle at the supermarket and start drinking it while coked up or something.  It was kind of funny to see her dragged out of there while screaming about citizens’ rights or some crap like that.  I think your daddy was also getting a handjob by a client of his in his car in the same supermarket’s parking lot.  Whoops!” She said. 

I was both relieved and offended.  I was relieved because she had stopped calling me Alexpiss.  It’s not that it bothered me in the first place.  It’s just that it was a weak insult.  I mean, if you’re going to use something, make it good and not corny.  I was offended, however, by what she said, yes.  It wasn’t her place to air out my dirty laundry.  I would slit this slut’s throat for my parents’ honor, even though they’re both far from perfect.  It also made me pissed because it was most likely true.  I am so pissed as I write this.  Who the fuck was this bitch to say shit?  Seriously!  What gave her the fucking right?  So, I did what anyone else would have.  I laughed it off and waited for her to turn her back to me.  When she did, I pulled her by the hair, smashed her head against a locker, and started wailing away at her face.  I am in detention in the meantime, but could face the repercussion of not walking at my graduation ceremony, but I don’t care.  I am still going to go away to college.  And besides, I don’t have any friends here to cherish the milestone of graduating high school.

            Anyway, I recently heard news about Piper.  I should have written this a few lines up to have some sort of flow here.  I got caught up in the whole ‘I’m alone in this world and I’ve accepted it’ angst bullshit, but better late than never.  I saw him while riding my bike past the comic book store a couple of months back.  He still had the rattail.  My cousin, being in that geek subculture, said that he is some prodigy in Street Fighter 2.  Go figure, right?  According to my cousin, the kid went ape shit when I stormed out of his room, and he went through this whole transformation.  Get this, I heard that he was no longer going by the name of Piper anymore, but by AsSaSsiN—with alternating capital and lowercase letters.  He said that the name Piper no longer pertains to him.  He said Piper died a tragic death, and that he would take on a new being and find a new calling in video games; particularly Street Fighter 2 because it is the only game the comic book store by his house has.  He also took up cursing because it made him seem like he was rougher around the edges.  It’s a good thing that Piper didn’t recognize my cousin under that Ewok costume he had on or else he would have kidnapped him for ransom or something.  I know he must have been watching me while I wasn’t aware.  It’s so creepy to know he knows where I live or that he has my phone number.  To this day, I am weary when I hear my phone ring only once.

            So anyway, it’s almost time for me to leave.  Thanks for reading if you have read this far.  I changed my mind, and I am not going to kill you.  This venting actually made me feel a little better.  As you could tell from the beginning of this, I felt like shit.  Please don’t think I’m sappy, a bitch, or a loser.  My parents suck, the guy who liked me was a creep, and I don’t have any friends because no one understands me or I don’t understand them.  There.  The explanations are packaged in a neat sentence right there.  I am going to hide this in a secure place where I know it will take a complete accident to find it.  I can’t believe I’ve written as much as I have.

            Well, reader, this is the end.  Mr. Bryan said we have about three minutes left and to start packing up.  You’ll never know if you ever run into me.  Well, it’s just the way things ought to be.  Everyone should know a stranger this way.  It would make life much more interesting.  Goodbye, reader, and may you have a better experience in your high school years than I did. 

           Take care and don’t stare at the sun, stupid.

            - Alexis

Luke & Lucy

“Luke, where are you taking me?!”

“Just be patient.  You’re going to love this.”

“This is so stupid.  It’s raining!  I’m getting soaked!”

“It’s just a couple more blocks away.  Keep up with me.”

“I am a second away from going home.  This is ridiculous.”

“We’re almost there.  Here, take my sweater to cover yourself from the rain.”

“What about you?  You’ll get soaked and sick later on.”

“Don’t worry about it.  Here, take it.”

“Thanks, but if you get sick, I don’t want to hear you complaining about it later.”

“Don’t worry.  It’s just around the corner.”

“This is so retarded.  Why am I even here?”

“We’re here.”

“This is a view of the East River.  This is so stupid.  Why did you bring me here?  It’s pouring out here and you’re being stupid.”

“Don’t you remember this place?”

“No.  I am going home now.”
“Try and remember.”

“I don’t know.  Isn’t this the place where we first met?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Why did you bring me here on a rainy Sunday?  This is so dumb.  I don’t know who’s dumber, you or me for following you here today.”

“I brought you here for a reason.”

“To get the both of us sick?  You knew we were coming here and didn’t even bother bringing an umbrella.  I don’t have time for this anymore.”

“I wanted to ask you a question.”

“What do you want?”

“Will you marry me?”

“What?”

“I want you to marry me.”

“How did you afford this ring?”

“I sold a lot of my stuff.”

“Oh, God, Luke…”

“I love you, Lucy.  Have so since I met you, always will.”

“I love you, too, Luke.  Yes!  The answer is yes…”

“I’m sorry I made you walk in the rain.”

The Monroe Serial Stabber!

“YOU HAVE TO SEND HELP!  THERE’S BEEN A MURDER!”

            “Calm down, sir.  Where has this taken place?”

            “In Monroe Park, the southeast sector.  Please send help quickly.  The perpetrator is getting away!”

            “Then make a citizen’s arrest, sir.”

            “Are you kidding me?  He stabbed a woman in the throat!  I saw him do it!  He saw me look at him do it, too! I am not going to stop this maniac, are you kidding me?”

            “Alright, alright!  I heard you the first time.  No, I wasn’t kidding you.  No, I wasn’t kidding you.  How do you like me repeating the same thing to you?  Now, sir, don’t you worry.  I’ve sent out a CB to officers in the area.  Sit tight.  Help is on the way, and for your own sake—with all due respect—stop being such a pussy.  If you’re so scared, then go hide under a weeping willow tree.”

            “I beg your pardon?!”

            “I said what is your name, sir?”

            “My name is Ruben.”

            And thus began the tumultuous meeting of coincidence and chance for Ruben and the killer known as the ‘Monroe Serial Stabber.’  He was catlike; an ever-feline-like apparition with a serrated butcher’s knife instead of cuddly claws, of course.  Ruben had witnessed his first murder.  This murderer had struck two other times earlier that day.

            “Did you get a visual of the suspect?” One officer inquired.

            “Well, sort of, but it all happened so quickly!  As soon as it happened, I backed away and ran.  He saw me see him stab her in the throat and kind of smirked.  It was an awful sight,” Ruben replied.

            “What were you doing in the park anyway?” The officer asked.

            “I was just taking a stroll, enjoying the warm Spring air,” Ruben said.

            “That sounds stupid…” The officer said.

            “I beg your pardon?” Ruben said not believing what he had heard.

            “I said we might have to contact you again if we have any further questions.  Now, you said he was a medium-build Caucasian, mid-to-late twenties, about five feet eleven inches,  wearing a red Iron Maiden shirt, black pants, and boots?  No other features that you could remember—like a scar, ring, tattoo, right?”

            “Yes, that is correct,” Ruben said.

            “I saw Maiden back in ‘86.  I didn’t know they made red shirts.  You sure it was an Iron Maiden shirt and not one of those new bands that rips off older band t-shirts by using the old band’s design or album cover and placing their name on it because it looks vintage?” The officer asked.

            “How the heck should I know, officer?  I only saw what I saw.”

            “Alright, fair enough.”  The officer said.  “The sketch artist is coming to talk to you to try to get that great vivid visual you described to me onto paper.  I’m so glad you called this in with so much information,” the officer said in a sarcastic tone.  “Damn, that girl he stabbed in the throat was a looker.  Wanna take a look at her?”

            “No, absolutely not.  Why would I?”

            “I was just messing with you.  She’s gone to the coroner anyway.”

            “Could I go home, officer?” Ruben asked. “I just want to go home.  I can’t get the thought of all of that blood gushing out of her throat out of my head.”

            “Want a ride home?” The officer asked.

            “I’d like that a lot.”

            “Want me to also tuck you into bed?”

            “What?”

            “Get into my car and I’ll drive you home.”

            Ruben had a hard time to forget the image he had seen.  He never thought he would be able to forget.  How would one be able to forget a serrated knife being put through a person’s neck?  Seriously, would you be able to, Rambo?  Anyway, Ruben was at home when he called his friend to tell him about what he had seen.

            “Yeah, it was so gross!  He saw me see him stab her in the throat!” Ruben was telling his friend Jonathan over the phone.

            “That is an icky experience, Rube.  If you need to come over, I’m here for you.  I just need to ask my mom if it’s alright, but I’m sure she’ll say yes,” Jonathan said.  He was 31 and still lived with his mother.

            “You really think she’ll say yes?  I mean, I didn’t want to ask because I didn’t want to humiliate you by having to say that your mother wouldn’t let me.  But, if you’re certain she’d say yes, then I would certainly like to spend the night over at your house.”

            “Hold on a second,” Jonathan said as he put the phone down and went to go ask his mother.  In the background, Ruben could hear Jonathan pleading with his mother.

            “Oh, come on, mom!  He went through a lot of trauma today.  Didn’t you see the news?  Didn’t you see the news?  Yeah, he saw that happen!  He was there!  No, I am not joking!  Seriously?  No fooling?  Yes, I promise that he will clean up after himself!”

            He then came back to the phone.  “I told you it was a sure bet, puma cub,” he said to Ruben.

            Ruben spent that night over at Jonathan’s.  Sleeping on the air mattress in Jonathan’s room, he was starting to fully visualize the murderer.  He fell asleep while gripping his pillow.

            The next morning, Ruben awoke to find Jonathan gone.  He was caught off guard with finding himself alone in a room.  He got up and walked to the kitchen where he found Jonathan’s mother drinking her coffee while reading the newspaper.

             ”Did her eyes bulge out of her sockets?” Jonathan’s mother asked Ruben when she acknowledged his presence.

            “Excuse me?” Ruben said in disbelief.

            “Do you have a hearing problem?” Jonathan’s mother said and then spoke louder as if Ruben really were deaf. “I asked if her eyes bulged out of her sockets.  You know, eyes,” she said as she pointed to her left eye.

            “I don’t know.  Why are you asking me this?!  What is wrong with you?!  Why on Earth would you ask me such a horrible question?” Ruben said as his voice started cracking.

            “Sonny, I am willing to bet that your balls packed their bags, slid down your legs, and ran for the hills after you saw that murder.  When I was your age, I was once gang banged, slapped around, and branded.  You know what I did after that incident?  I went down to the bar, got into a fight, and made some son of a cunt my bitch.”

            Ruben was caught off-guard with that remark.  He didn’t know what to do but grip the pajama pants he was wearing.

            “Don’t grip my son’s pants like that, pussy,” Jonathan’s mother said. “You know, you’re a piece of work.  Get your shit and get the fuck out.  I have one pansy too many in this house with my queer son, and the last thing I need is his boyfriend, too.  I’m gonna take a shit.  When I get out, you’d better be out of here.”

            On the way from Jonathan’s house to his, Ruben passed Monroe Park.  He could not believe what he saw there the day before.  He started trembling while walking through the park, but felt as if he had to if he was going to overcome this.  He thought to himself what could possibly happen to him.  He thought the odds of seeing this murder again were one in a million—no, two million (possibly even four).  He then walked to the wooded area of the park and could hear the birds chirping.  He thought that day, as he was walking through the park, was a gift.  He was thinking how he needed some backbone, even though what he witnessed was a horrific sight.  He then heard the sound of two men talking, but not very loudly.  He went to see what was going on without being noticed.  As he walked closer, he saw two men standing smoking a joint.  They were debating which band would headline a show between Goo Goo Dolls or The Counting Crows.  It was a question Ruben and Jonathan would often debate.  As he was listening to this all-too-familiar topic, he saw that someone else was creeping up behind them.  The two men got startled.

            “Yo, dude, you a narc?” One of them asked.

            “Let’s get out of here, Taint,” one of the guys said to his friend.

            The man said nothing and passed them by, and the two guys laughed it off and continued their debate.  Then, the same man who had passed them before came running, took out a knife and stabbed one of them in the throat.  The other guy gave out a loud shriek and then started running, but tripped over a branch.

            “Dude, what are you doing?!  I think you, like, killed my friend or something!”

            His friend was trying to crawl while holding the wound on his throat, but couldn’t say a word.  He gasped one last breath and died with his eyes open.  Blood was all over the dirt and leaves.  Ruben was crying hysterically, but was petrified.  He put his hands over his mouth.  As the man who tripped was trying to crawl away, the killer kicked him in the face.  The killer then turned his back towards the victim and crouched over his face, and then he saw Ruben standing there.  The killer smiled back at him, and that’s when Ruben noticed it was the same man from the previous day who murdered the woman.  As he was looking at Ruben, the killer said, “Up your nose with a rubber hose, motherfucker!” And he flipped Ruben the middle finger.

            He then turned around and sliced the face of the guy on the ground.  The guy then started screaming as loud as he could, but the killer then stabbed him in the throat.  He then turned to Ruben, and darted towards him.  Ruben ran as fast as he could, too.  Ruben darted past trees, down hills, and then found himself out in the open.  When he turned, he didn’t see anyone behind him.  He just ran home as quickly as he could.

            When Ruben got home, he locked his doors and ran to his room, and hid under his blankets.  He started crying profusely.  He did not want to call the police again and be subjected to their ridicule.  He knew he would have to seek years of counseling to overcome what he had seen in the last two days.  He was glad to have the leave of absence at his job.

            At 11 p.m., Ruben turned on the news and saw that the Monroe Serial Stabber was on the loose.  He heard about how this killer stabbed and killed the woman yesterday, the two men he killed today, and apparently a couple earlier that day, too.  Police presence was to be seen at Monroe Park, and it was to close at 7 p.m., which was odd to Ruben because the murders occurred in the afternoon.

            Ruben called Jonathan to ask if he could stay over his place again.  But when Ruben called to request a place to stay, Jonathan declined because he said his mother didn’t want to “get stabbed in the f’ing throat,” and that Ruben was somehow a magnet for this murderer.  Since Ruben didn’t have any other friends, he had to stick this out on his own.

            Ruben slept in the bathtub with a dull Swiss Army knife ready to jump out of the window rather than actually use the knife if any peril were to ensue.  He didn’t really sleep that night.  He just sat and thought back to the two murders he had witnessed.  He couldn’t help but remember the blood in Taint’s dreads.  Ruben also tried to analyze what the killer said to him.

            “‘Up…your…nose…with…a…rubber…hose…mother…fucker…’ What does it all mean?  He must have been giving me a clue,” Ruben thought to himself.  The next thing he knew, it was already 10 a.m.  He was hungry.  He couldn’t find anything to eat.  Ruben scoured cabinets and the refrigerator.  He decided to bite the bullet and walk down to the grocery store quickly and then run back home.  So he put on sunglasses and the thickest coat he could find in his closet.

            Ruben examined the hallway from his apartment before he stepped out into it.  He was extra cautious.  For all he knew, a serial killer was looking for him, aching to smell his blood.  After he walked out of his apartment building, he ran down to the grocery store which was four blocks away.  He wanted to take the fast route there to limit the amount of time he was out on the street, so he cut through an alleyway, where he was punched in the face as soon as he turned the corner.  Ruben was knocked to the ground and the man who punched him pulled out a knife.

            “Gimme your fucking wallet, asshole,” the man said to him.

            “Excuse me?!”
            The man punched him in the face again and grabbed Ruben’s wallet from his back pocket.  As the mugger turned to run away, he bumped into another man.  The other man pushed the mugger back and then pulled out a knife, and stabbed him in the throat.  The stabber saw Ruben and said, “Aww, shit, not again.  What the fuck?!”

            Ruben got up and ran out of the alleyway.  He didn’t look behind him.  He didn’t stop until he got home and locked himself in the bathroom again.  This time, he sat on the toilet and wept like some girl named Sally getting stood up at the prom because she realized she was fat.

            As he was weeping, he realized that the mugger had his wallet in his hand, and hoped that the killer didn’t grab it and see his address on his driver’s license.

            “I’m dead.  He’s gonna find me and stab me in the throat,” Ruben said to himself as he was rubbing his wonderfully structured throat.  He continued to analyze what the stabber said to him, “‘Aww…shit…not…again…What…the …fuck…!…?’  What does it all mean?!”  He quickly called Jonathan, but his mother picked up.

            “Hello?!”

            “Mrs. Hendrickson, I need to come over!  I saw him again!”

            “You fucking idiot, what the fuck are you doing calling me?!  You’re an omen.  You’re gonna get us killed!  I ain’t gonna die on behalf of your faggot ass,” and then hung up on him.

            He then heard his phone ring.  He figured it was Jonathan or his mother calling him back to apologize for what she had said and was going to allow him into her house to hide after all.  When Ruben picked up, he didn’t hear anything at first.

            “Hello?”

            “…”

            “Jonathan?  Mrs. Hendrickson?”

            “No, Ruben, it is not them.  It’s me…”

            Ruben was confused.

            “Well, if it’s not them, who is it?  I don’t have time for games.”

            “I got your number through the internet.  It’s so cool how you could just type a person’s name and get their number.”

            “It’s you, isn’t it?”

            “You know, Ruben, you’re giving me a bad rep.  Here I am thinking I’m good at what I do until I see your dumb ass just standing there.”

            “What do you want?!”

            “I want you to stay out of my way.  By the way, did you see me fart on the hippie yesterday when I killed him?”

            “No.”

            “Sure you did, when I turned my back to him and flipped you the bird.”

            “Oh, yeah.”

            “That was awesome.  I had never done that before.”

            “Why are you committing these murders?”

            “Society is responsible for putting me up to this, Ruben.  These people I kill are people who deserve to die.  I am doing it to play my role in this world.  They don’t want to live anymore.  They’re all losers.  I know when they’re losers, and that’s when I choose to stab people in the throat.  Why the throat?  Let’s just say it’s my calling card.  I was thinking of getting cards made for when I commit these murders, but thought it a little tacky.”

            “Yeah, I agree.”

            “But, the day I kill all of the losers and shit, those will be days of glory.  Those will be days of thunder and Talladega nights.”

            Ruben was confused.

            “Ruben, you don’t seem like such a loser.  I would spare you, but you’re always at the same spot I am.  If you’ve already seen what you’ve seen, I need to take you out.  You’re a threat.  I know where you live.  How about this?  You cook a final meal or some shit like that, I’ll come over and we could chat it up.  After we’re done eating, I stab you in the throat.  How’s that sound?  I mean, I’m gonna find you anyway.”

            Ruben thought fast and hung up the phone.  He then called the police.

            “HELLO!  The Monroe Serial Stabber has contacted me!  I witnessed four murders!  Please send officers to my house?!”

            “One moment, sir.  We have a ton of people who believe they’ve spotted the Monroe Serial Stabber.  How are we to know you’re any different?”

            “He called me because I’ve witnessed him murder four people!”

            “What’s your name, sir?”

            “Ruben!”

            “Now, Ruben, why would this catlike killer give himself away so easily and contact you?”

“Because I’ve seen him commit four murders.  He called me and threatened me!” 

“We’ll send someone over if you’re gonna pee your panties, sir.”

            “Please, yes, send some officers over.  Please!  My address is 45-58 Kingsway Drive, apartment 6F.  Please hurry!” And then Ruben hung up the phone.

            About 20 minutes passed and Ruben heard a pounding on the door.  He opened the door to find the killer standing there.  Ruben didn’t think the cops would take over 20 minutes to show up, so he didn’t go anywhere.  What an idiot, right?  The killer had an Arby’s bag with him.

            “Hey, Ruben,” he said as he pushed the door in and was now in Ruben’s apartment. “I brought over some food.  We’ll eat together, bullshit for a little bit, and then I’ll stab you either here or in the bathroom, I haven’t decided yet.  Where do you keep your dishes, utensils, and shit?”

            Ruben didn’t say a word.  He was petrified again.  He thought he was so naïve and foolish to stay in his apartment.  He was about to scream when Iron Maiden was played on his stereo.

            “You like these guys?  I saw them back in ‘86.  It was awesome.  You like ‘The Trooper’?  Everyone does!” The killer said.

            Ruben’s cries for help out would be drowned out by the sounds of Iron Maiden on his stereo.  The killer played his hand well.

            Ruben then thought about just running out of his apartment, but the killer then punched him in the face and handcuffed him to the stove.

            “Sorry about that, Ruben.  I had to do it.  I saw you looking at the door.  I didn’t want you going for it and me having to chase you.  All that time, the food would have gotten cold.  I wouldn’t want to microwave this.  It just wouldn’t be the same.  Here, have some curly fries.  They’re awe-awe-awesome,” the killer said as he started playing air guitar.

            The killer sat at the table while Ruben also sat at the table, but his hand bound to the stove.  Ruben didn’t say much at first, but the killer didn’t mind.

            “So, yeah, the first time I committed a murder was a month ago or something.  I believe the body was never found.  It was like from a blooper reel.  I was so sloppy.  I stabbed her in the throat, but my knife slipped out of my hand on the account of the amount of blood.  I wish I had it recorded and then I could add in the sound effects when it slipped out.  I was like, ‘Whoops!’”

            Ruben chuckled a little after he heard that.

            “That’s the spirit, Ruben.  Take it all in stride, that’s what I always wish I always said so that when I say, ‘That’s what I always say,’ people would be like, ‘No, you’re right, it’s true, that is what you always say.”

            “Let me ask you a couple of questions about yourself,” Ruben said to the killer.

            “Shoot—I mean take a stab at it,” the killer said.  He and Ruben had a good laugh about that.

            “What’s your real name?”

            “I’m sorry to say I can’t answer that, Rube.  I don’t like to mix my personal and business lives.”

            “Fair enough, and I respect that.  How about your job when you’re not having Tom Cruise days and Will Ferrell nights.”

            “You mean days of thunder and Talladega nights, asshole.  Don’t make that mistake again.  Anyway, I could answer this one, sure.  I work for Mr. Softee, you know the ice cream truck people.  I am a driver, not yet a scooper.  I think it’ll be a matter of days before I get promoted.  I’m usually driving around and shit at nights, which is why I commit these murders in the day.  It’s a little risky, but I do what I do, you know?  You know how I do, come on…”

            Ruben was stalling as much as he could until the police came, but he did think the killer was a nice enough guy with just a couple of flaws.

            “How about you, Rube?  What do you do?”

            “I’d rather not disclose details with the guy who’s going to kill me.”
            “Ouch.  Touché, Rube.”

            “Could you put some ketchup on my burger?”

            “Sure, buddy,” the killer said as he poured ketchup on the hamburger.

            The killer just sat and watched Ruben eat his burger with one hand.  He looked at him as if he were giving Ruben approval.

            “You know, if you were thirteen and you wanted to date my daughter, I’d let you,” he told Ruben.

            “That’s awfully nice of you, sir.  Thank you,” Ruben said.

            “Think nothing of it.”

            Ruben didn’t know whether he was speaking hypothetically or if he really did have a thirteen year old daughter.

            After Ruben finished his meal, he said, “Boy, that was some good food.”

            “Yeah, it sure was.  I’ll think of you next time I go back to Arby’s,” the killer said. “Well, I guess I’ll have to do the deed here.”

            Ruben thought he needed to stall some more.  He was starting to sweat and cry a little.

            “Hey, what do you say we watch the baseball game first?” Ruben said.

            “Rube, don’t make this more difficult than it already is,” the killer said.

The killer then stabbed Ruben in the throat four times.  Blood gushed all over the stove and walls of Ruben’s kitchen, and on the killer’s face.  He then walked to Ruben’s bathroom and saw blood all over himself.  He decided to cover the bloody clothes with towels and stuffed them in a laundry bag he had found in the bathroom.  He then took a shower.  When he got out of the shower, he put on some of Ruben’s clothes and walked back out into the kitchen where he saw the bloody mess.  He walked to the stereo and turned it off.  He then heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” The killer asked.

“Monroe Police Department,” an officer said.

The killer opened the door a little, without the officer being able to see the kitchen.

“Someone called for police officers?” One of the officers said.

“No, it was a false alarm, officer.  Thank you so much for checking up on me.  I really do appreciate it.”

“Sir…” the officer said. “Don’t you mention it.  We’re just doing our jobs.”

“And a fine job you are doing, officer,” the killer said.

“Have yourself a good day, sir,” the officer said and walked outside with three other officers the killer didn’t see who were standing next to him.

The killer then went to the bathroom again, picked up the laundry bag with his bloody clothes, took the Iron Maiden CD out of the stereo, took one last look at Ruben, and walked out of the apartment.  He passed the four police officers who were standing outside of the building.

“Thanks again, officers,” he said as he walked away.  The police officers just smiled and waved back at him.  As the killer was walking, all he could think of was how many more people he had to kill to complete his mission.  Without realizing where he was going, he realized he was at the entrance of Monroe Park.  He reached in his bag and walked into the park without anyone noticing him.

Dear Reader: If You’re Reading This, Then I Have Been Kidnapped

Dear Reader,

If you’re reading this, then I have been kidnapped.  Being that this is the case, time is of a very sensitive nature.  I implore you to find and aid authorities in apprehending my captors and reuniting me with my loved ones—of whom I am fondly fond of only three or so.  However, I would not appreciate my free time to be curtailed at the expense of no-gooders.  There are several reasons why I may have been kidnapped.  The list may very well exceed the ones I have listed below:

1.      I owe an excessive amount of money to influential and equally dangerous people.

2.      I have been known to have a slight bit of a short temper and performed a few regrettable acts against influential and equally dangerous people.

3.      I was the recent heir to a large fortune.  I will admit that I was somewhat gratuitous in showcasing my good fortune in major news outlets with my address, photograph, and amount I inherited (you may already be aware of this if you do stay afloat with current events).

4.      I have discovered major breakthroughs in the assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, the disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa, and the true story behind Apollo 11’s “moon walk,” and admit I was a bit of a braggart after discovering them—which subsequently received too much attention from influential and equally dangerous people.

5.      I was not-too-recently involved with a money laundering scheme.  Normally, the proper authorities would not apprehend me, but the money I laundered belonged to people who are—well, I think you get the picture now.

Now, being that this is all too much of an awful pickle I have put myself into, I will need you, reader, to either put up my ransom or rescue me.  I do not know whether there is a ransom for me or not.  Could you take this time to please put this note down and turn on my television set?  Please turn to channel 236 and wait until the top of the half-hour.  My kidnapping should be the top story.  After viewing the news, you will know by now if I am dead.  If I am, then please read no further, and I thank you for your time.  If I am still missing, then do rescue me.  Here are a few instructions that will aid you in retrieving me.

1.      This note is placed on the brown table (excuse me insulting your intelligence for a second).  Now, if you look directly across from this table, you will find a blue one.  Above it is a portrait of me fishing next to Robert De Niro.  Yes, it is a real picture.  I went on a fishing excursion with my dear friend Timothy, rest his soul.  Upon fishing and looking at my surroundings, I saw someone who I could have sworn was Robert De Niro—and rest assured, it was!  I asked Timothy to take a photograph while I stood next to him.  Doesn’t it look like we’re really fishing together?  You could tell me when you rescue me.  Just ask me about the De Niro fish and I will know to what you are referring to.  Now, veering back to my rescue.  Behind the portrait, you will find a safe.  The combination is 32-54-68-2.  Open the safe and you will find a handgun and a blank check with numerous fraudulent Social Security cards.  Ignore the cards.  Devote your attention to the handgun and the blank check.

2.      Write the check out to ‘Bubba Worthington’ for a sum of $64.43 and mail it to this address: 4248 Devota Avenue, Suite 1780, Lawrenceville, NV, 67724.

3.      Don’t worry about the check.  That is my own personal business.  Anyhow, with the handgun, you hold on to that in case things get a little saucy.

4.      Now, on top of my television set, you will find two porcelain figurines.  Break the one to the left with a chisel I have taped underneath the kitchen sink.  Yes, you will have to open the cabinet under the sink.

5.      When you break the figurine (REMEMBER, IT IS THE LEFT ONE AND NOT THE RIGHT…BE VERY CAREFUL NOT TO BREAK THE RIGHT ONE AND SEE WHAT IS INSIDE IT), you will find rolled up hundred dollar bills.  Count it.  There should be a sum of $100,000.  You don’t think it will be that much at first, but it is.  Take that money and go to one spot I may be in.  It is the Arby’s restaurant on Huntington and Forsyth.  Ask for Miguel-Estevez Lorenzo Montanegra.  Tell him you’re there at my bequest.  If he plays as if he has never heard of me, look at him as if you are going to break his nose, and then show him the handgun.  You will have to be vulgar and a little aggressive with him.  You might have to pull out the handgun and draw it.  Press the barrel against his face.  That might trigger his memory.

6.      If in the event he does not remember, you will have to ask him where the beef patties are stored every evening.  He will take you to the basement, where the freezer is located.  As he is opening the door for you, shoot him in the back of the head.  I mustn’t have any leads to my other personal business.  Again, I am not 100% certain as I write this letter that he is responsible for my abduction, but that measure must be taken to ensure my safety.  I’ll write a condolence letter to his family upon my return.

In the event of that lead being irrelevant, come back to my house, put the money back where you found it (I will be counting the money if I return.  If one dollar is missing, you and I have a problem), and take a peek at the news again.  Hopefully there has not been a morbid outcome.  If nothing comes up again in regards to my kidnapping, then it is safe to assume I am still alive.  I guess the old adage of no news is good news lives, right?  If I am still alive, sit tight and wait until I send a letter at this address: 17 Huckleberry.  It is located six miles from where you are standing reading this right now.  Look it up on my computer through a travel search.  I have fast internet speed, so you should retrieve that information post-haste.  Periodically check the location for a letter from me with more information and further instructions.  Again, I do thank you and forever shall I be beholden to you.  While you are working this angle—most likely the right angle—the authorities will be working the other, so I have got everything covered.  Please do keep this letter secure and confidential between you and me.  If you are from the police department, the Federal Investigation Bureau, or any other government official, please dispose this letter at once and disregard everything you have read.  If you are an able-bodied citizen with a good heart and conscience, then please help me.  If the Arby’s lead did not do anything, I shall send further information in four days.  Thank you for your time and help!

Cheers,

Warren Harrington, III