Perfect kisses lead too one night stands./Desset. Desert

I'm sorry. Sometimes.

.... Sometimes I think, I get so close to blowing up. Close to exploding. In flames preferably. In a messy way. A way people would talk about for months. ‘Man, do you remember when Adam exploded? That was epic.’

This isnt anything.
I'll post something real tomorrow and by tomorrow I mean, this week.
I wrote this pretty drunk in a bar on my Bday last week.

In a bar for the first. Drinking dark liquor at 4 pm. Irresponsible but legal. Legality makes everything sit better.
I'm a law breaker
a risk taker
a booty shaker, salt shaker
I know a kid who eats salt and drinks soy sauce. I bet that tastes bad. And if it doesnt get you you drunk whats the point of drinking nasty thing.
Like prune juice, or milk of magnesia.
It's my birthday.
The bartenders name is George. And he doesn't care about my birthday.
Facebook taunt me with your pictures.
The juke box has Modest Mouse. I'll play 'Ocean Breathes Salty'
I hope I'm funny tonight.

Dreams About Crashing Cars

The train maps are laid out like the veins in the arm of golem
Dope sick, webbed feet
Shaking like a fish on a wood floor
Sizzling like bacon
Dancing like a seizure with girls who hide their fangs so well you'd call them pure as the snow that tries to ride the wind back up to heaven.
My God has no beard.
Lets get high and hide under the covers and drink tequila from coffee mugs
and kiss without a thought of all the lies that have poured out of the lips that we smash together.
Lately I've been dreaming about crashing cars.
I need to settle my system.

being in a car with fat people.
Ryan's breast in perched on my shoulder like a parrot, but I aint no pirate and I want this behemoth off me. It's warm, but not the comforting warmth a straight jacket gives a maniac. Fleshy, Flabby and moist like a swamp. My arm in penned behind Dave, its going numb. Someone jokes about how uncomfortable I look, they all laugh, but I don't find this shit funny. At least if our car crashes, their bodies will serve as cushion. I hope this car crashes.

I'm on your side, but only for awhile

NOTE: Found this written down on a page in my old math book. Must have wrote this freshman year. I dig it.

Crawling away
Bawling away
Smalling away?

Biggie Smalling away?
Excuse me, what I meant to say was;
Above ground pools suck, that weird farting hum they make all day annoys me
Alot of things annoy me, I'm a tiny angry ant in a giant cosmos of hate
I wish I could melt people with eye beams
I wish there was a button on my watch that made cum. I'd press it whenever I got mad.
It would save alot of lives. It save alot of money.
I remember when I could of kissed you, but I was nervous.
Then I got drunk and fell asleep.
I wake up at noon everyday, in this small room.
Tall groom.
Big Shroom
Whats up with all this rhyming?

Your name is an onomatopoeia.
I want to smoke cigarettes on the balcony.

The sounds you hear at night when you lay in bed.

There are memories we have from when we were kids that are so hazy or bizarre or horrifying that it’s hard to say if they ever happened at all. The brain has a funny way of dealing with trauma, it will essentially lie to itself, the same way it does with paranoia and love, the brain will swear to itself, like a man on trial, that things we remember we in fact don’t remember. It buries memories so deep that they surface in flashes, like clips from an old movie you weren’t supposed to watch. A face, a room, a spilled cup of red drink all over a white carpet, or in this case, a southern lake right before the sun goes down. The older I get the more indistinguishable hours stretch between me and that lake, and that man, and that smell. The older I get the futhurer away the things that happened on that day crawl from me. I’ve always known what I saw was real, despite the frantic efforts of mind trying it erase it. But the older I get, the more life that sprawls out around me, the more I begin to doubt my eyes, the more I doubt that jolt I get when I hear the sounds that only ring out at night when the lights are off. So I’ll say it now, with conviction and assurance while I’m still able too, I saw the devil when I was 7 years old by a river in Louisiana.
Like I said, the details of my meeting with Satan are hazy. The location was most defiantly a river, I remember the sun setting, turning the water into that gold color you see in paintings in the lobbies of hotels. I asked my Grandma a few years back was there any lakes by her old house in Bogalusa, Louisiana and she told me that me and my grandfather would go fishing at Jennings lake about a mile away from their home. I’m sure that there must have been a river somewhere thou, because I remember a current traveling to the east carrying an old tire. I wasn’t with my grandfather either, I was alone. I don’t remember much of my grandfather except that he had a perfectly grey mustache on a perfectly brown face and that he was very nice man, better than I guess he could have been seeing as thou he wasn’t my biological grandfather.
Yeah, I was alone and the sun was going down. I sat on the ridge of the lake or river. I could see the other side of the water, tall grass and dirt roads. Dragonflies hovered around, sporadically going from cat tail to cat tail, settling then disappearing.
I was enjoying the smells. Fresh water has that dirty scent, The kind of dirty one can over look because the same grime that makes it stink is the same scent that sticks on your clothes and makes people think you had worked hard. The breeze rolled over me every so often, like it was reminding me that it hadn’t forgot me. My fingernails were dirty and I might have been wearing sandals because I remember an ant crawling on my toes, although that could be from another memory. When you’re a kid you don’t seem to mind the weather much, but I do know that the temperature couldn’t have been over 80. My fishing pole rested against a tree a few yards away. I didn’t like fishing, I didn’t like touching worms, and I hated when ants crawled on my open toes.
How long I was there before I saw him is lost in my subconscious but I don’t know that I wasn’t five minutes away from packing up and continuing the walk back. I twitched at first, my neck jerked to the left and for a microsecond I felt sadder than I’d ever felt. A minute passed and an aggressive wind blew. A gust that seemed angry, not at me, but at itself. A guilty wind, guilty for what it was carrying. There are those times in our life where we are sucked out of our heads and we a given permission to view ourselves as instances happen. Usually in these out of bodies experiences we seem to be on autopilot, everything happening at a reflex, but for about 30 seconds I could see myself. Long enough to ration that is was an out of body experience and that something was wrong. I felt my mouth drop open and I saw it first hand as if I was sitting next to my body doing it, those seconds seemed an hour and a became doubtful of my own existence. My view of myself began to fade and I was being dragged of the ground and into sky, across the water, my body looked up from the ridge and as I extended my hand towards it extended it’s hand toward me. There was a little less than a half mile of air between me and my body. I was sweating and panicking and about to scream when I heard.
‘Hello there little boy.’ I was back in my body, back on the ridge. But after hearing that voice, that even toned almost singing voice, I wished to every God I could have just kept floating into clouds. I looked to my left and there was figure walking toward me, dressed in church clothes. He face seemed to change forms completely about three time before he got close enough for me to make it out, as if the devil was searching for the perfect face to scare me with. And as he closer he seemed to grow unnaturally tall, as if he was adjusting his height. Soon he was right next to me looking down and smiling the way a stranger does when they hold the door open for you.
‘I said hello, have you no manners?’ He said still smiling. He wore black slacks and a white shirt with the first two buttons undone. His hair was wiry and silver and he had grey stubble. He had deep blue eyes, almost like at one point they had been very bright.
‘Oh now don’t be rude boy.’ He sang. ‘You’ll hurt my feelings’ He rose his hand and I flinched. He grabs his heart and frown, the corner of lips went so far down it scared me.
‘Hi, who are you?’ The words rushed out of my mouth.
‘Who am I?’ He laughed “Who am I? What a question to ask. There is no possible way I can answer that.’
He takes his hand and run it through his hair as he looks up into the sky with a smirk still lingering on his long pale face. ‘ You can ask what I am, even when I am. And if you’re particularly brave you can ask me who I’ve been. But who I AM? Oh no no no, I can’t tell you that my boy. In fact, who are you? Hmmm, can you answer that? HmmmmMMMmmm?’
‘I’m Adam’ I stuttered a lot when I was younger so I wasn’t very talkative for fear of stumbling on my words and looking foolish. But around this man my voice seemed clear and full of a certain spirit that, if used on anyone else, would have been quite impressive.
‘Oh well I knowWWww all that. I mean who are you, inside.
‘I don’t get it.’
‘I mean who are you when are angry? Who are you when you are alone in your head where no one can hear or see the things you want to do? Who are you when you can get away with it? You see people are just persons in public, they fearRRrrRR the judgment and persecution from the very people that in their dreams they murder and steal and covet. Things aren’t like they were Adam, things aren’t like they will be.’ He laughs and asks me again ‘Who are you, on the inside?’
‘I..don’t know.’
‘Well,’ he knells in front of me and I smell burning paper on his skin and clothes. ‘Maybe I should cut you open and rip your guts out the see who you are inside.’ He has razor teeth and a snake’s tongue, and I picture myself in a puddle of dirt dried blood on the river bank with my stomach and spleen and lungs and intestines and kidneys on the ground. I’m coughing blood the man is rolling on the ground in tear he is laughing so hard.
‘Please don’t.’ I start to cry.
‘I suppose that would be rude.’ He looks disappointed then looks at the lake and smiles. ‘Say boy is that your fishing rod?’
I turn around to the tree its resting on and it isn’t there, my head whips around and he has it in his hands, standing over the lake.
‘I’m going to go.’ I say, but I know he won’t let me.
‘Not yet AdammMMMmm. I want to send you home with a delicious diner.’ He looks intent at the water. ‘ Oh he’s deep down there, this my take some time.’ He laughs as he reels something up. I finally get to my feet and begin to back away. He yanks at the pole and a bloated blue corpse emerges out of the water and flops on the bank. The body has large patches of hair missing. It eyes are shut likes it in a deep sleep, but its mouth is open, the lips seems to be dissolving slowly. It smells like ground beef when its left in the sun.
‘How appetizing’ He laughs loudly and the grass around us starts to die, I start running. Fast. So fast it hurt, my feet crash against the ground. I look back and he is laughing, doubled over clinching his gut. I’m crying and the wind is blowing at my back, trying to help me. I turn around again and he is dancing with the body. I get further, but the laughing is still in my ears. I look back a final time and his figure has changed, he is no longer the slender man in the sacks, he is now a 12 foot tall beast with the legs of a pig and antlers, not horns but deer antlers that sprout out in every direction.
It’s hard to say what happens next. I know I didn’t tell my grandfather of grandmother because for some reason once I saw the blue wood panel of their house I felt a divine safety. I knew they wouldn’t believe me, I really didn’t believe me, My brain has veiled the run lead me or the events of the next few days. But I do know that I was scolded for loosing the fishing pole and when my grandfather and I went to go try to find it the next day there were large burn marks in the grass and on the walk back home my grandfather made me walk in front of him and he looked back every few yards with his fist clinched.

She's up in that tree, where she'll always be,

“Oh, Christ.” Josh groans as he looks across the table to his sobbing cousin.
“What the…come on dude. People are staring over here.” Adrian whispers to Duy before skillfully grabbing his coffee cup with his fingertips to avoid the hot surface of the mug on his palms. He raises the cup to his puckered lips and slurps the drink cautiously while he surveys the diner and patrons. Duy’s eyes are watering , he is Vietnamese so the crease of his eyelids push the tears out quicker. They fall at rhythmic pace, like a metronome slowed to half speed. Tears hit his plate, his hash browns and omelet now salty from the falling tears. As if they were cooked by a recently divorced chef listening to The Cure.
“This is terrible. I’ll never be happy again. How could I be?” Duy’s head hangs as low as his neck will allow it, he holds his fork in one hand and his knife in the other, a napkin is bunched in his shirt collar haphazardly. He sniffles and pants. He is a wreck and the saddest part is that he is trying his very hardest to hold back the real onslaught.
“You’re being a real Debbie downer right about now, let me just say.” Adrians says while he dabs the corners of his mouth in a demure fashion with a napkin and leaning back to rest his head on the booth. ‘A real freaking Buzz kill.’
“Adrian, lay off.” Josh looks at Adrian with shaking his head feigning disdain.
“What? I mean, am I wrong? Look at him he’s crying like a fat girl with no prom date. ‘I’m too fat to fit in my dress mom, I might as well wear a boat tarp’. Adrian sours his face and mocks Duy.
‘You’re a jerk dude.’ Josh spoons soup in his mouth.
“Besides, when Asian people cry it freaks me out, you guys get all red and puffy. Like tomatoes. Giant suicidal tomatoes.” Adrian continues.
“Enough, Adrian. Knock it off or I swear to God I’ll get in the car and leave your ass here.” Josh peers at Adrian from the corner of his eyes, but that all that is needed to surcease Adrian’s maundering. For a few moments the boys are quite, the scrapings and dingings of the kitchen are the only sounds floating around Gina’s 24 hour diner and grill. The boys are in a part of town where everything is open 24 hours, hotels and department stores litter the area, the lights are always on, and prices are never fair. 2 hours earlier Duy dropped his now ex-girlfriend, Paulette, off at the airport. She is going to Arizona for school, Duy and Paulette had been together for only 6 months but Duy never had anything like her in his life. It was the love he’d seen on TV.
Duy finally had someone who’d hold his hand, someone who he could stare at and not creep out. In his car on the way to the airport with Paulette his thoughts ate him up, how lonely he’d be, how he wouldn’t have anyone to watch movies with, or anyone to sit with him when video games got to scary. The crushing realization of his impending loneliness in combination with the fact that Duy had never been a discerning attentive man led to him parking his blue 99’ Acura TL in a area of the lot clearly marked ‘employees only.’ After a somewhat brief but very much complete goodbye to Paulette, and a conniption fit in the bathroom that was cut short by two members of the late night airport staff entering the lavatory to perform perverse sexual acts on each other on the surprisingly well cleaned floor, he returns to the parking lot just in time to see his reliable old car being hoisted up and dragged out by a tow truck. The white of the truck drivers eyes match the white of his teeth and off sets the pulsating orange of his cigarette as he laughs while he drives with Duy’s car in tow, his back bumper scrapping and his ‘opps’ bumper sticker seemly mocking him. He then called his cousin, Joshua to pick him up from the airport. Joshua brought Adrian, long time friend, current roommate, and full time heel. Now they sit in a 2 star diner in the hotel district of Chicago at 2 a.m.
Duy’s barely touched his food, he claims its hard to eat on a brokenheart, Adrian says its even harder to masturbate while heartbroken. No one laughs. Snot drips from Duys nose and before it hits his lip Duy licks it up. Josh says the reason why he isn’t hungry is because he is full off booger. Everyone smiles.
“You know what’s the worst’ Duy slings his head back and looks directly at the ceiling fan above them that spins like a wounded animal runs, ‘ the worst part is that the last time we made love was in the car. I mean, how striped of intimacy is that? I could of done better. There’s tons of hotels around, I could of gotten us a room. ” Residual tears roll down Duy face and neck in no hurry as if they were taking the scenic route.
“Plus the room wouldn’t of been that expensive, I mean how much money can 5 minutes cost?” Adrian says while he stabs at the thin sliver of steak on his place and snickering self-servingly.
“We could have showered together, enjoyed a room that was souly ours for our last night together. And I settled for cowgirl in a cramped back seat. I’m such a screw up.” Duy sighs in a tone so bleak the deaf could hear.
“Duy, man you’re breaking my heart. Relax man, she’ll be back by this time next year. And it’ll be like you guys never missed a beat man. You just gotta be strong dude, be strong and..’ Josh is interrupted by the waitress.

“More Coffee boys? Oh my, whats the matter baby?” The heavy set women places a tender hand on Duy’s shoulder. He looks up at her, all red faced and puffy.
“The only girl. The girl I’ve ever met, in my whole life who didn’t mind holding my hand in public is on a plane to the dessert and for my last night with her, I humped her like a high school kid after homecoming in my car in the Midway airport parking lot. How insensitive? I am scum.” Duy eyes are glazed.
“Wait you fucked her in your car? The one that just got towed? Dude, that truck driver was probably watching. Maybe even jacked off. That’s fucked.” Adrian looks at Duy with disgusting oozing off his squared, brown face. The waitress’s concern turns to discomfort and she refills everyone’s coffee cup before disappearing.
“You can’t let this drag you down Duy. Cousin, remember when you lost your Pokemon cards at summer camp and you cried for like, a week straight?” Joshua asks Duy, who nods. “Yeah it sucked, you worked real hard to build an awesome deck. Put in the time to master it, learn every card. Most importantly you respected the cards while you had them.”
“Then I lost them, I got careless. It was my fault I forgot to get them before I got on the bus, they probably got stolen, then played with by some kid who didn’t nearly appreciate them as much as me. If only I would held on to them If only..” Duy says before heavly sobbing into the palm of his hands.
“This is the gayest….” Adrian shakes his head and eats his steak.
“If only what Duy? If you hadn’t of lost them then what? You’d still play with them now? You’d be a 21 year old pokemon card player?” Josh says before continuing with “I believe there is a force, a force of nature that moves things in our life for our well being. You lost those cards so you didn’t go around getting the ass kicked by Zach Zagorsk everyday of freshman year. Besides do you remember what happened the next month? Digimon came out, and you fell in love with them. A different type of love, but it still made you happy right? ”
“Yeah, but I still thought about all the cards I lost. My Charizard and Sychter and my Mew.”
“And that’s perfect. You were supposed to, you still remember those cards names which is..”
“Fucking gay” Adrian says almost desperately.
“WHICH, is amazing. It shows you care, that no matter how long its been. They still hold a place in your heart. But Digimon helped you get over Pokemon and when Digimon was gone it was Monster Rancher that satisfied your need for cute little Japanese monsters that killed each other.”
“But I never, liked them as much as I like Pokemon.”
“Because Pokemon were your first love, it will never be as fanatical as the first love. Or as sexy as the second, but don’t you still watch Monster Rancher.”
“I’ve got the whole series on DVD.”
“Exactly.”
The waitress shuffles nervously over to the table and places the check down before abruptly turning around and heading toward back toward the kitchen.
“She liked to walk barefoot, In the grass. She didn’t care about bugs or nothing. She climbed trees too. Better than I ever could. She never wore bright clothes, colorful but never bright. I loved her scent.”
“She’ll be back.” Adrian says, not making eye contact.
“What if it isn’t the same?”
“Then you’ll find Digimon.” Josh says grabbing the check.

B

"I don't think I want to see you again."
"I figured.'
"How"
"Its in your eyes."
Her room is small and the windows are all closed. The morning air was warm.
"What are you talking about?" She plucked the cigarette out of my mouth.
"You lost that look."
"What look?"
"The special one."
"I wasn't aware I ever gave you a special look."
"You did."
What did it look like?" Grey smoke seeps out her mouth.
"It looked like,you were watching a race, but you already knew who would win."
She smiled but it didn't matter.
"Have you used that line before?"
"I don't recycle words, I don't even say 'hello' anymore because its too cliche."
We don't talk for a minute then she tells me she has work in a few hours.
I slide over her and sit at the edge of the bed. My socks are in my shoes and my shoes are neatly arranged by the door. I'm always ready to retreat. She offers me a shower and breakfast and implies that she'd be ok with goodbye sex. I decline all but the breakfast, she makes good hash browns, and I'm hung over and heart broken.

Is there a place we can go, to distance ourselves from what we've become?

Hey all, So June completely passed without one single update. And for this, fellow scoundrels, I apologize. I've been busy with work and family and getting sober and realizing that being sober kinda sucks. Making money, losing money, saving lives. I've also started and finished a short story (30 pages) called 'I lost the keys to my time machine.' Its about a really bad break up. I'm in the process of making a tumblr account where I will release a chapter a week until the epic story concludes or I realize no body is reading. But for now, I figure I'll let you guys have a few ramblings from my journal along with the first short story i ever wrote back in the dark ages of 2008. Stank you smelly much for reading you guys really make me happy, and don't forget to tell your moms and girlfriends and pets about who awesome this blog is.

8=========D,
A.H.L


Sometimes you get lucky and girls get naked in your room.
Sometimes you get lucky and find 3 dollars on the ground.
Sometimes you get lucky and your friends pay for your train ride.
Sometimes you get lucky and find your keys after 2 weeks of looking
Sometimes you get lucky and cashiers give you extra change
But most time you aren’t lucky at all.
Most of the time you are thrown to the wolves.
We just have to face the facts that we will all lose way more than we win.
Wallets will get lost.
Buses will be late.
Printers will run out of ink.
And ice cream will melt before you even take a bite.
It’s the small tribulations of everyday life that can drive a man mad.
The tiny inconviences that can send people spiraling into depression.
But I guess we are all living for those lucky moments, the moments where everything just falls into place.
Thing fall apart, but it is how we put them back together that defines us.
We just have to live, because the only alternative to life is death.
And I don’t want to be no ghost, Since most of the time I already feel invisible.




Time is running, and I have dress shoes
I’ll watch it disappear on the horizon
And hope it jogs a memory

It bullshit that theres a warning before those girls gone wild commercials. They sound be used as info nuggets like “you sister will get naked on camera for cocaine and rum shots.”
A few whores ago.


I sat in bed and watched Kelly hunched over my computer. My monitors glow lit her face up, she was so fucking cute (although she had a slight man chin.) She was reading short stories I had written. She was fresh out of high school, so I showed her a piece I had written about an unrequited love I had in high school. It had the perfect amount of cursing and vulnerability. Vulnerability in the sense that It was honest and pretty sad but not to sappy, she had already told me to “man up” in a serious tone when I made a joke about crying. It took her about 20 minutes to read it all, we sat in silence, not awkward in the least. Just her squinting at the text, and me eating the plate of Jose Ole mini tacos I had warmed up for us. She was wrapped in my comforter, underneath she was vagina naked. On the floor her clothes lay in a pile. She was pretty, so pretty.
I didn’t expect Kelly. We had been to a few parties together, but I was far to drunk at each of them to make a positive impression. The first time I talked to her sober was exactly one week before, and if someone had told me then that she would be in my room naked, reading my “work” at 2:17 am, I would have never believe them. She seemed innocent, even thou I didn’t know her well. I guess it was her eyes, she had big, glossy eyes. And when she smiled, which she did often, she looked like a cartoon character.
I looked at her almost the entire time she was reading. I’ll admit it was a little creepy, staring at her like that.
But in a way she was staring at me, she was reading one of the most genuine pieces I had ever wrote. Technically she was the creep, looking into my soul through my writing. I was just looking at her butt and side boob. When she had finished reading she looked at the keyboard for a minute. She put her finger on it as if to begin typing.
“You’re a really good writer.” She said still looking down at her fingers on the keyboard.
“Thank you.” I said, pretty generically. Thats what I said every time someone told me I was good. It was hard to tell if they were being honest, or just polite.
“I wish I could write.” She said as she took her fingers off the keyboard and looked at me with those eyes. I was briefly reminded of Alix and her piercing eyes. Both Rachel and Alix had incredible eyes, but totally different. Alix eye’s were sharp and almost cutting. While Kelley’s eyes were inviting and warm. I still loved Alix’s eye, but I could get used to Kellys.
“You probably can, just try. I takes a lot of work, and if you aren’t in the right mindset it can be boring but if you keep at it, it’s one of the most rewarding things ever.” I told her. I really did believe she could write. She was an intelligent girl, all she needed was the patience.

“How often do you write?”
“500 hundred words a day, Just like Jack London.” I lied. I was lucky to write 500 hundred words a week. I did admire Jack London for his 500 word a day ritual but I was way too lazy to mimic it.
“Really?” Kelley said sounding impressed.
“Yeah, it’s hard but worth it.” I felt like a bastard lying to her. But it wasn’t really lying, it was just realistic exaggeration.
“Wow, I should write 500 words a day.” She said as she got out of the seat and shuffled to bed with me. We laid there together, I had gotten drunk and thrown up all over one of my pillows so now I only had one that we shared, our faces were incredibly close, but I don’t think she cared and I certainly didn’t mind being close to those gorgeous brown eyes.
“I wish I could break dance.” I said, half joking.
Kelly was a dance major. Before I gave her my stories she showed me a video on her myspace of her dancing. I’m a terrible dancer, thus a terrible judge of dancing, so I couldn’t tell if she was good or not. But I did know she loved it, and her ass looked great in tights and that was good enough for me.
“I could teach you.”
“Ha, for sure.” I said before I kissed her on the forehead and put my arms around her. “Sorry I don’t have another pillow, the other one was a fucking mess, I had to dump it.”
“What happen to it?” She asked. I paused for a minute, I could tell her the truth, the rather vile story of the night John and I went half on a gallon of some shit off brand rum, but I concluded that the idea of me helplessly puking into the very bed we were laying in might put a damper on the mood of the night.
“ Spilled Pepsi all over it, I’m a clutz.” Crisis averted.
“Damn, that sucks.”
“Indeed.”
Neither of us said anything for about two minutes. Barely even moved. I kissed her after awhile.
“Did you play any sports in high school?”
“Yeah actually. I wrestled sophomore thru senior year.” I told her.
“Really?’ she said sitting up a little and looking at me before continuing “You a wrestler? In a weird way I can see that.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty terrible at most sports. My mom, she used to send me and my cousins to this sports camp. I went there for like, 4 summers. Didn’t get any better at anything, besides shit talking and faking injuries.”
“Hahaha. What made you want to wrestle?”
“ I’m an only child and haha, I’ve always a lot of stored energy and aggression and shit. You know, from not having a little brother’s ass to beat or something. Not that I’m violent or anything, I just enjoy putting people in headlocks every now again, is that so wrong?”
Now that I think about it maybe I was a little violent. To this day I still attack cousins and close friends. Every family gathering I look forward to throwing my little cousins over couches and into laundry baskets. And my assaults on friends my age are rather hostile and elaborate. This past summer I was approached by three mall cops and almost banned from the premises after play fight I had initiated in a clothing store and just last month I choked Justin with my dogs rope toy thing.
“Yeah, ok psycho.”
“Ahhh bite me, Did you play any sports?”
“No not really..” She continued on about how she was in a collection of plays and performances in high school. She had showed me pictures of her in high school through her face book. She wasn’t always cute, in fact in most of her older pictures she looked like a Puerto Rican boy, curly hair pretty bushy eyebrows. All she needed to do was let her leg hair grow and stand outside a 7/11 trying to sell food stamps. Hahaha, I’m sorry that’s racist.
“Yeah, ok psycho.”
“Ahhh bite me, Did you play any sports?”
“No not really..” She continued on about how she was in a collection of plays and performances in high school. She had showed me pictures of her in high school through her face book. In my old school the dancers were the popular girls, cheerleaders, prom queens and other assorted pretty faces. This was not the case at her school, the dance team she showed me in the pictures looked more like the chess team. Maybe the chess team paints to nerdy of a picture, more like the environmental club. They posed. They laughed. They got caught off guard. All with an air of adolescent awkwardness
There was another silence. I could here the T.V through the walls, it was “The Cable Guy.”
“Are you hungry?” I asked her as I looked at the ceiling.
“Yeah, a little but I never turn down food. What do you have.”
“Oh, you’ll see. I’m going to make us the most romantic meal ever.”
“Oh, wow. I can’t wait.” She said smiling at me.
I put my pants on and walked into the living room. Not three steps out of my room I see Kelley’s friend Jasmine’s head jerk up. She was sitting on the couch with Freddy who was now scrabbling to fasten his pants. I had just walked in on oral sex. I made eye contact with both of them, there was no need to pretend like I didn’t see it. The room reeked of lust and penis. Freddy wore a tank top and sweated a lot. The living room couch was drenched in his sweat, back sweat and ball sweat. I was smirking, they were giggling.
“Well alright.” I coughed out and headed to the refrigerator. I had no idea what was in it, I barely shopped and I was sure that the items I bought were either eaten or rotten. I opened the freezer; Ice cream, steak, French fries, more ice cream, mini tacos, mini corn dogs and three frozen pizzas. The only thing that belong to me were the box mini corn dogs, and it was half empty. Before moving in my mom prepped me on how to deal with the house food thief. The thief was me now. I had been eating Randy’s mini tacos and Kyle’s hot pockets for the better part of a week. Not to mention I drunk the shit out of every soda Valens had ever purchased. I decided to cook us my corn dogs, didn’t want to spoil the night with thievery.
As I watched the corn dogs heat in the microwave and tired to avoid looking at Freddy and Jasmine on the couch I thought about how it was only 12:48. The night had pretty much been a whirl wind for me. It started in Cohen’s room, like most of the early nights did. I didn’t have much to drink that night, so I was slightly more composed than usual. I can’t remember a damn thing I said to her in Cohen’s room. Her friends pulled me aside a few times to ask me did I like her. I charmed them into convincing her to come to my room. In a comedy book I read there was a passage that said “When things go right, it’s a blur. It’s when you crash that you remember every detail.” Things went right that night, with Kelly. The night was a river, and I was just a floating log. Lucky drift wood.
2 minutes and the corn dogs would be ready. Jasmine charged into my room, I’d never seen my door close so fast. I looked at Freddy. He was still in high school and here he was getting mouth love from a college girl. He smiled at me, cocky little shit. Earlier that night Kelley told me she had a thing with one of the guys who lived in my building, she didn’t tell me who but she did she I knew him. Apparently he liked her way more than she liked him, but she was trying to spare his feelings and not be seen entering and exiting my room. This was the third time I had been in this situation this year, girl stealing. I never did it to disrespect anyone, in fact this time wasn’t even on purpose. Kelley had been in my room a few hours earlier then left to settle things with the mystery boy. I offered to talk to him to, but she said it would make things weird, I didn’t give a fuck about weirdness, it was benefit of being socially challenged. I simply didn’t have time to give any fucks.
Corn dogs were done. The microwave open button got stuck pretty often, I pressed it a few times until the door finally swung open, I Jackie Chan dodged it and grabbed the plate. I knocked on my door, I knew better than to interrupt girl talk. I waited a few. The door open and Jasmine was standing there.
“Hello.” I said holding the plate in one hand and trying to keep my pants up with the other.
“I need to talk to you.” She said taking the plate from me and giving it to Kelley.
“Corn dogs is your idea of romantic?” Kelley said with her mouth already eating one.
“Try it with barbecue sauce. They are divine.” I said pointing to a bottle that was already on my desk, I wondered how the hell did that even get there? I was lead by the hand by Jasmine to the bathroom.
She closed the door and I sat on the toilet.
“Having a good night, Jasmine?”
“It’s alright, what about yours?”
“Not so good, I missed Super jail, it was a new episode.” I laughed.
“Do you like Kelley?”
“Didn’t you already ask me this?”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“What do you like about her.” She sat down the sink and looked at me like I was a criminal.
“Her eyes..” I whispered.
“Huh?” Jasmine said leaning her head in. She was smiling slightly so I was to intimidated but I knew this was a relatively serious talk.
“I like her because she I can actually talk to her. I feel oddly comfortable around her.” I said looking down at my pants, they were dirty. I looked up at Jasmine she seemed pleased with my answer.
“I like her because it is easy to like her.” The words snuck out of my mouth. They echoed and then disappeared. Moments of inadvertent honesty were becoming more routine ever since I moved in. They oozed out, the truths. Unapologetic truths. I didn’t know what to make of it, I had no choice but to accept them, and pray I learned to internalize them.
“Good.” she said.
“Think I have a chance with her?”
“Maybe” she laughed before saying “You are cuter then most of guys she talks to.”
I laughed. I saw a picture of Kelley with a guy she identified as her ex boyfriend, I thought I was cuter. But I knew it was about looks with Kelley, she was into artists. And more turned on by passion and creativity then faces and muscles.
After I finished with Jasmine I went back to my room. She was sitting on the bed talking on her phone.
“Here he is now” Kelley said.
“Who is that?”
“It’s Ashley, I think she want to go back to the U.C now.”
Ashley was Kelley room mate, her crush on Cohen was the reason I met Kelley in the first place.
“Oh really?”
“Yeah she is tired and doesn’t feel like staying withCohen tonight.”
Even though we had already had sex, I still didn’t want Kelley to go yet. Cuddling after sex was the cherry on the sundae, if she left now I couldn’t cuddle. I’d be robbed of my sex sundae, I had to do something.
“Let me see the phone.”
Kelley passed me her phone. I didn’t know what I was going to say to Ashley to convince her to stay, but I am a writer and words my tool.
“Hey Ashley. What’s this I here about you trying to leave and take Kelley and Jasmine with you.” I cut to the chase, there was no need to play it subtle.
“Yeah Adam. I’m getting sleepy and want to lay in my OWN bed.” She said, clearly emphasizing to Cohen.
“Well it’s 1 in the morning and this is Chicago, there are dangerous men out there Ashley. Men that wouldn’t think twice about harassing three pretty young girls walking home this late.”
“I always carry pepper spray and the U.C is like ten minutes away.”
“Yeah, that’s what all rape victims say. Next thing they know they are tied up in an attic getting fingers put in there butt. You don’t want to be the victim of a booty pinky do you Ashley?” the words fumbled and flipped out. Booty pinky sounded like a Trina song.
“Hahaha, whatever Adam I’m tired tell Kelley to met me in Cohen’s room.”
“Hmmmm, That means she has to put back on all of her clothes, that might take awhile…” I looked at Kelley. She had sex hair. “And plus, you have your whole life to sleep in your own bed. You are young and who knows how long it will last, take chances, sleep in mysterious beds, even if it is a rough night, one night is in the flash in the pan in the long run.”
There was silence on the other end and then “Put Kelley back on the phone.”
I handed Kelley the phone, they talked for few seconds then hung up.
“Well I’m staying, but I have to leave tomorrow early.” Kelley looked up at me.
“Glad to hear it.” I kissed her and grabbed a handful of corn dogs.
We talked for a few hours. About the movie Pulp Fiction and consumerism and how it had made hip hop dance a fad. Then we went to sleep. Well she did, I had an erection, and about 20 minutes into her slumber I woke her up for sex. Then we went to sleep for real.