Wow, I thought. This is it. I'm going to have sex. I was 16, scrawny, had braces and glasses and yet here I was with the head cheerleader in the back of my dad's Oldsmobile.
Rachel gave me this weird sort of look. Maybe she could tell I was excited-- I mean it was obvious that I was excited, but I mean I think she could see it on my face. I tried to play it cool, by narrowing my eyes and pursing my lips.
"Are you frowning?" She asked.
"Huh? No, I was trying...nevermind," I laughed nervously.
"What's funny?" She asked again.
"Nothing. This is just crazy that we're-- you and me-- are here, back here," I said, my heart racing. Don't screw this up. Rachel was straddling me in the back seat. She had pulled her shirt off, but insisted that she keep the bra on, which was fine with me. I'd never even touched a boob before, but I considered myself lucky that I was skipping all that heading right for home.
Rachel leaned down and grabbed her phone from her purse. "So, I have some conversations to make, so just go ahead or whatever," she said casually. "But leave the bra on," she ordered.
I just nodded.
"Okay?" She said without looking up.
"Yeah, no that's cool. That's cool," I said."Do, uh, do I need to take your underwear off or is that something that you wanted to.."
She huffed and slid off me for a second. Expertly she managed to get her underwear off with one hand while the other typed furiously. I was still so struck by this moment that I forgot my pants were still on. Hurriedly, I pulled them off.
"Remember. No one can ever know about this. Especially David," she warned. David was her older brother, and captain of the football team, and all around douche-bag who would break my dick off if he found out I slept with his sister.
"No problem. This'll be just between us. For sure," I added.
"Great. Michael is going to be so pissed!" She squealed as she climbed back on top of me.
Michael was her college boyfriend who she'd been dating all year. Thankfully he lived another town over and there's no way he would ever find out who I was. Hopefully. She was sitting balanced on my knees, waiting.
"What?" I asked.
"Condom, dumbass. You think I want to have your fucking nerd babies?" She said. God she was beautiful when she was angry, and right. I leaned forward to reach my jean pocket, found the condom and presto-- we were in business.
"Okay. All systems go. Let's do it," I joked. She rolled her eyes and moved forward. She steadied over me briefly like a marksman before a shot. My heart was pounding in my chest in anticipation.
Bullseye.
It was like heaven. You know that feeling when it's really cold outside and you get into a hot shower. It was nothing like that; it was better. I sat there in that backseat motionless, in pure bliss.
"Are you going to move or what? This is boring," Rachel complained.
Oh right. Shit. I'd seen enough porn to get the general idea. I started bucking my hips upward, like I was trying to get up off the seat. She didn't seem to complain so I guess I was doing something right. I gently grabbed her hips, but her cocked eyebrow told me that was a no no. I could tell despite that she was really into because she wasn't making any noise. She must've been in deep concentration like me. We were bonding like soul mates. We were experiencing each other in a way no one else could. I'd known Rachel since 3rd grade, but for the first time in my life I really knew her. My eyes welled up a little with joy and pride.
"Oh my fucking god that is hilarious!" Rachel exclaimed. She startled me and pulled me out of my trance. She mistook my confusion for interest.
"So, Megan-- you know Megan-- Megan was on a date with some loser from Garrison High and during dinner he farted so bad that she left!"
"That's, uh..." I didn't know what to say. "That's funny. Really funny. Sometimes when my grandma comes over for dinner she'll fart and blame it on the dog, but we all know it's her," I said, trying to be apart of her joke.
"Everyone knows my grandma died last year. Why would you even say something like that?" She actually looked up at me this time. Her mouth pouty and her hair in her face. Even mad she was beautiful.
"I'm sorry, Rachel. My grandpa died last year too so I know how you feel," I said.
And then I was done.
"Are we done yet? I have a party to go," She asked impatiently.
"Oh yeah," I said. She rolled off of me without a word. She slipped her underwear and shirt back on, popped the door open and got out. I was sitting there with my pants around my ankles, dazed. She leaned her head and said, "Thanks again, Steve. You're a good friend. The best!" Before I could even respond she was already on the phone with someone about how pissed Michael would be. She didn't even close the door.
I felt used, dirty, wrong. I sat there for a minute trying to examine the last twenty minutes in my head. My phone buzzed in my jean pocket and I sluggishly reached for it and managed to pick up right before the voicemail.
"Steve, what's up, man?" My friend Gary asked.
"Not much. Not much. Just sitting in my car up at the school."
"What? Why?"
"Well, you know Rachel Woods?" I asked, with a smile on my face.
So, there I was: 16, with braces and glasses, sitting in the back of my dad's oldsmobile with my pants around my ankles, and I wouldn't change it for the world.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Obscura
I awoke to thunder clapping. The wind beat upon the windows like fists against dough. I glanced over toward the clock and it blinked 4:00 AM at me. "Crap. Power must be out," I sighed and rolled out of bed. It was cold, too, I noted before grabbing my robe. The breaker box was in the attic for some reason. Obviously, whoever designed this house had a flair for the dramatic. I picked through the closet and managed to find a working flashlight, one of those long police-types.
The batteries were old, so instead of beam I got more of a muddy filter. Thankfully, there was enough moonlight to see enough to avoid falling down the stairs or stubbing my toe. Which almost happened when the lightning crashed. The wind was still intent on tearing the house down, but thankfully it held. Strangely, there was still no rain, which hopefully meant this was all a show and would soon pass. I figured since I was already up I might as well grab a glass of water from the kitchen.
I set the flashlight down on the island in the middle of the kitchen. There were still pots in the sink, and Brenda was coming back tomorrow afternoon. I added the pots to my mental check list, when the thunder struck again. I almost broke the glass with my grip and I set it on the island next to the flashlight. Glancing out the window I noticed there still wasn't rain, so I popped the door open and stepped outside. No wind. Clear skies.
"What the hell?" I whispered. Moments ago it sounded like the whole house was going to fall down. If it wasn't coming from outside, then... I heard the thunder again. I froze in place for a moment.
Inside?
That wasn't possible. I hurried back inside and slammed the door. The flashlight rolled off the counter and bashed the tile.
"Fuck!" I shouted, then grabbed the light. Broken. "Fuck," I mumbled. I still had to get to the attic.
What I thought was wind started beating again, but it still sounded like fists. I scrambled through the kitchen drawers. Brenda quit smoking six months ago, but surely she left a couple lighters around.
"Got it. Thank you, Zippo," I said. I grabbed the flashlight, ready to use it as a weapon and made my way up the stairs. I still couldn't figure out where that damn noise was coming from. Each step I took felt like I was making it louder. Was I getting closer, or was it? My heart was beating through my chest.
"Make it to the attic, just make it to the attic," I whispered sharply. I started taking more than one step at a time, the fists getting louder, or faster, I couldn't decide. The thunder cracked again and I screamed my way up the last step and toward the attic entrance. Without thinking I grabbed the pull string too hard and the hatch popped open. The ladder tumbled down, barely missing my head.
I didn't care. The fists were behind me. In my hurry I let the flashlight fall as I climbed the ladder. I collapsed onto the hot wood floor of the attic like a tired swimmer.
"Fucking...fuck," I managed. I flicked the lighter. It was just enough to highlight how scary an attic is. All the shadows were in the right places to further torment me. I got to my feet and moved toward the breaker box. I popped the metal front plate and held the lighter close. Nothing was tripped.
"What the hell," I squeaked. My throat tightened up on me and I backed up into a box falling to the floor.
I started laughing. This was all ridiculous. I took a breath and started thinking critically about the situation. I'm sure it was raining before and a transformer probably blew out down the street. All I'd done is let my imagination get the better of me. And as if on cue with my restored sanity I saw a beam of light pop into the attic. Relaxed, I picked up the lighter and made my way down the attic ladder. Once I got it closed up I couldn't help but laugh again. Brenda would not be hearing this story; she'd never let me live it down.
I realized I'd left the backdoor unlocked. Besides that I was up now. Now that the power was back maybe I'd clean the dishes now? I hit started down the stairs and something lurched me forward. I crashed into the steps, rolling almost sideways. I felt stabs through my body, each step like a sledgehammer. Finally, the ground broke my roll and I cracked my head on the tile. I lay there dazed, unable to move. My vision was blurred. Was there blood in my eyes? I was laying face down, horizontal to the staircase and I saw the perfect view of the culprit.
The flashlight was right behind me, thudding down each deadly step. The flashlight hit the ground and slowly rolled toward my hand, but the thudding didn't stop.
"No.. it was the flash...," I barely managed to say anything. The fists were back, louder this time, closer. Blood obscured my vision. I tried to move, but everything felt like mud. The fists got louder, harder. I could feel my bones crack from the pressure. My eyes bulged and my ears filled with blood. I felt like I was underwater. Unable to move or react, all I could do was listen to the fists pound and pound, until eventually they were little more than an echo.
The batteries were old, so instead of beam I got more of a muddy filter. Thankfully, there was enough moonlight to see enough to avoid falling down the stairs or stubbing my toe. Which almost happened when the lightning crashed. The wind was still intent on tearing the house down, but thankfully it held. Strangely, there was still no rain, which hopefully meant this was all a show and would soon pass. I figured since I was already up I might as well grab a glass of water from the kitchen.
I set the flashlight down on the island in the middle of the kitchen. There were still pots in the sink, and Brenda was coming back tomorrow afternoon. I added the pots to my mental check list, when the thunder struck again. I almost broke the glass with my grip and I set it on the island next to the flashlight. Glancing out the window I noticed there still wasn't rain, so I popped the door open and stepped outside. No wind. Clear skies.
"What the hell?" I whispered. Moments ago it sounded like the whole house was going to fall down. If it wasn't coming from outside, then... I heard the thunder again. I froze in place for a moment.
Inside?
That wasn't possible. I hurried back inside and slammed the door. The flashlight rolled off the counter and bashed the tile.
"Fuck!" I shouted, then grabbed the light. Broken. "Fuck," I mumbled. I still had to get to the attic.
What I thought was wind started beating again, but it still sounded like fists. I scrambled through the kitchen drawers. Brenda quit smoking six months ago, but surely she left a couple lighters around.
"Got it. Thank you, Zippo," I said. I grabbed the flashlight, ready to use it as a weapon and made my way up the stairs. I still couldn't figure out where that damn noise was coming from. Each step I took felt like I was making it louder. Was I getting closer, or was it? My heart was beating through my chest.
"Make it to the attic, just make it to the attic," I whispered sharply. I started taking more than one step at a time, the fists getting louder, or faster, I couldn't decide. The thunder cracked again and I screamed my way up the last step and toward the attic entrance. Without thinking I grabbed the pull string too hard and the hatch popped open. The ladder tumbled down, barely missing my head.
I didn't care. The fists were behind me. In my hurry I let the flashlight fall as I climbed the ladder. I collapsed onto the hot wood floor of the attic like a tired swimmer.
"Fucking...fuck," I managed. I flicked the lighter. It was just enough to highlight how scary an attic is. All the shadows were in the right places to further torment me. I got to my feet and moved toward the breaker box. I popped the metal front plate and held the lighter close. Nothing was tripped.
"What the hell," I squeaked. My throat tightened up on me and I backed up into a box falling to the floor.
I started laughing. This was all ridiculous. I took a breath and started thinking critically about the situation. I'm sure it was raining before and a transformer probably blew out down the street. All I'd done is let my imagination get the better of me. And as if on cue with my restored sanity I saw a beam of light pop into the attic. Relaxed, I picked up the lighter and made my way down the attic ladder. Once I got it closed up I couldn't help but laugh again. Brenda would not be hearing this story; she'd never let me live it down.
I realized I'd left the backdoor unlocked. Besides that I was up now. Now that the power was back maybe I'd clean the dishes now? I hit started down the stairs and something lurched me forward. I crashed into the steps, rolling almost sideways. I felt stabs through my body, each step like a sledgehammer. Finally, the ground broke my roll and I cracked my head on the tile. I lay there dazed, unable to move. My vision was blurred. Was there blood in my eyes? I was laying face down, horizontal to the staircase and I saw the perfect view of the culprit.
The flashlight was right behind me, thudding down each deadly step. The flashlight hit the ground and slowly rolled toward my hand, but the thudding didn't stop.
"No.. it was the flash...," I barely managed to say anything. The fists were back, louder this time, closer. Blood obscured my vision. I tried to move, but everything felt like mud. The fists got louder, harder. I could feel my bones crack from the pressure. My eyes bulged and my ears filled with blood. I felt like I was underwater. Unable to move or react, all I could do was listen to the fists pound and pound, until eventually they were little more than an echo.
Monday, September 26, 2011
The Call of Duty
April 29
Jerry was injured this morning. He was caught in one of their traps. But I had to keep going, had to stay with the mission. I know he understands that. I know he'll forgive me.
April 31
Jerry's still out there. I can hear him moan every once in a while; it's torturing me that I can't get to him. I spent all last night coming up with a plan to get him, but abandoned it. If I die, then we fail the mission, and the mission is all that matters.
May 3
I can't handle it anymore. Part of me wished-- hoped-- that Jerry would just die out there, but the sentry came back by last night and... started torturing him. Did he know I could see him? Was he taunting me? Tomorrow I'll have to decide whether or not Jerry's body is more important than the mission, but right now I'm just not ready for that decision.
May 4
Jerry's gone. Somehow during the night I actually fell asleep, and the sentry came back around and must've taken him. The Son of a bitch knew when to strike. Back in The Wall we're taught not to get too attached, specifically for situations like this. Guess I failed that lesson, huh Sarge?
May 6
I don't care about the mission anymore. They'll send more from The Wall if I fail anyway, so the least I can do is recover Jerry's body. He might even still be alive, either way I have to know. I've spent the last day and a half doing recon and found out they put Jerry in what I've started calling The Dump. A lot of stuff goes in there-- other prisoners I can only assume-- and it seems like the only way in is through the top.
May 8
I've managed to get past the sentry and hide, but not without injury. My leg is probably broken and he got into my ribs pretty good. But I wasn't the only one... I managed to get at the sentry's eye, hopefully left a mark.
May 13?
Woke up late today. Not even sure what day it is anymore. I've lost too much blood, and I'm out of supplies. I think this might be it. God, I'm sorry, Betty. I couldn't get to Jerry. He was my best friend, my brother. Know that he loved you more than anything else in this world or the next. If this is found, tell my mother I love her and I served proudly... with no regrets.
+ + + +
May 14
Ugh! today was awful! First, Miss Larson caught me talking to Sarah during Science (whatever), then she made me stay after class to talk about my grades! Then, when I get home the cable's out and Mark, THE ONLY PERSON WITH A CELL PHONE, won't let me call Tim. I hate this place, it's like a prison. Oh! And Dad totally found a gross dead mouse in the cabinet this morning! NASTY! WE KEEP FOOD IN THERE! Oh well, he threw it away like the other one kitty killed last week!!! Anyway, Chloe is coming over tonight because it's FRIDAY (what what) and her cousin said he'd buy us some beer (yay!) See ya! :) :) :)
Jerry was injured this morning. He was caught in one of their traps. But I had to keep going, had to stay with the mission. I know he understands that. I know he'll forgive me.
April 31
Jerry's still out there. I can hear him moan every once in a while; it's torturing me that I can't get to him. I spent all last night coming up with a plan to get him, but abandoned it. If I die, then we fail the mission, and the mission is all that matters.
May 3
I can't handle it anymore. Part of me wished-- hoped-- that Jerry would just die out there, but the sentry came back by last night and... started torturing him. Did he know I could see him? Was he taunting me? Tomorrow I'll have to decide whether or not Jerry's body is more important than the mission, but right now I'm just not ready for that decision.
May 4
Jerry's gone. Somehow during the night I actually fell asleep, and the sentry came back around and must've taken him. The Son of a bitch knew when to strike. Back in The Wall we're taught not to get too attached, specifically for situations like this. Guess I failed that lesson, huh Sarge?
May 6
I don't care about the mission anymore. They'll send more from The Wall if I fail anyway, so the least I can do is recover Jerry's body. He might even still be alive, either way I have to know. I've spent the last day and a half doing recon and found out they put Jerry in what I've started calling The Dump. A lot of stuff goes in there-- other prisoners I can only assume-- and it seems like the only way in is through the top.
May 8
I've managed to get past the sentry and hide, but not without injury. My leg is probably broken and he got into my ribs pretty good. But I wasn't the only one... I managed to get at the sentry's eye, hopefully left a mark.
May 13?
Woke up late today. Not even sure what day it is anymore. I've lost too much blood, and I'm out of supplies. I think this might be it. God, I'm sorry, Betty. I couldn't get to Jerry. He was my best friend, my brother. Know that he loved you more than anything else in this world or the next. If this is found, tell my mother I love her and I served proudly... with no regrets.
+ + + +
May 14
Ugh! today was awful! First, Miss Larson caught me talking to Sarah during Science (whatever), then she made me stay after class to talk about my grades! Then, when I get home the cable's out and Mark, THE ONLY PERSON WITH A CELL PHONE, won't let me call Tim. I hate this place, it's like a prison. Oh! And Dad totally found a gross dead mouse in the cabinet this morning! NASTY! WE KEEP FOOD IN THERE! Oh well, he threw it away like the other one kitty killed last week!!! Anyway, Chloe is coming over tonight because it's FRIDAY (what what) and her cousin said he'd buy us some beer (yay!) See ya! :) :) :)
Sunday, September 25, 2011
The Greatest Pirate in the World
The grizzled pirate captain smiled, a glint of his gold tooth showing in the lamp light. "This be yer end, boy," the pirate snarled. "Pray to whatever gods ye might have." He cackled, then slid his blade across the begging man's throat. There was no mercy on the high seas.
"Captain, the first mate be callin' fer ya," a crewman said.
"Clean up this mess, boys. Before ye start drinkin' this time," the captain glared with his one good eye at his rag tag crew. Last time the bodies stayed below deck for a whole day and it took twice that long to get rid of the smell. The captain made his way toward the top deck. The lamps were lit earlier than normal since the clouds started looking angry. He'd weathered many storms in his years, but the way the wind blew made even him shudder.
His newest crew member met him up top, his breathing labored, his face worried.
"Captain, Captain!, " He huffed. "We have a big problem."
"What sorta problem, boy? The dead haven't come back to life have they?" he joked.
The first big wave rocked the boat, spilling a little sea onto the deck.
"We're too heavy, Captain. With the waves and the coming storm we're sure to sink," he shouted. The other men on the deck overheard the conversation and worry set across them like wildfire.
"Too heavy? Nothing could sink her! You'd have to be the biggest idiot on the seven seas to think otherwise," he exclaimed.
"Idiot? Geez...wow. Idiot. That's a little harsh, Captain," the first mate said, his spirit crushed. "I know I haven't been here as long as some of the others, but calling me an idiot? I think I've earned a little better than that."
The Captain sighed and rested a hand on the young man's shoulder. "It's Martin, right? Martin, you're a valuable asset to these men, this ship, and most importantly to me. Of course I'm not actually calling you an idiot."
The Captain cocked an eyebrow. "Are you familiar with hyperbole, Martin?"
Martin shook his head, confirming he did not.
"I thought not. Hyperbole, my dear boy is merely exaggeration. Something to help get one's point across," he said. "I'll show you an example."
The Captain waved over his first mate, a man that had sailed with the Captain for years. "Mick, how would you describe your wife?" the captain asked.
Mick laughed a little. "Captain, my wife is the size of a Humpback whale!"
Martin laughed with the other two men. He was finally starting to understand what the Captain was saying.
"So," said the Captain. "Hyperbole is used quite often and for many reasons. When I called you "the biggest idiot on the seven seas", I didn't really mean that. I just meant that you should have more faith in this ship, in your crew... in me. She's not too heavy and she's not going to sink, my boy. Now why don't you get downstairs and help the lads clean up those bodies," The Captain smiled and tousled Martin's hair.
Martin nodded and beamed a smile at Mick and the Captain before hurrying downstairs.
"You want me to kill the little retard?" Mick asked.
"Aye, spill his guts and feed em' to every shark from here to Barbados," the captain said.
"You sure, sir?"
"Of course I am. I'm the greatest pirate in the world."
"You sure, sir?"
"Of course I am. I'm the greatest pirate in the world."
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Pre-historic Blues
The T.Rex woke up early that morning. Even though it was Saturday, the sun didn't care, and neither did his worried mind. His youngest daughter's first date was tonight with... Jeremy? He wasn't sure. And if that wasn't enough his oldest son, Ricky, was all too excited to leave the house for college this fall. He wasn't sure Ricky would even be able to go this fall since money had been tight after all the cut backs at the plant. Despite all that however, he was happy. Happier than he'd been in a long time. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he could feel some cosmic shift in the universe, like it was almost telling him that things were about to change... in a big way. The T.Rex stepped outside onto his balcony and took a deep breath. The fresh air always relaxed him.
He rested his arms on the railing and looked out over the vast tropical paradise in front of him. This place was rather perfect, he admitted to himself. And despite the nest emptying he realized it was all part of the plan. He finally understood how his parents felt at his age, and for the first time in his 42 years he felt serene. The cosmos must've felt his new-found calmness because he saw a massive shooting star streaking across the sky. He almost woke his wife, just so she could see the sheer size of it but decided to let her sleep. Besides, they had the rest of their lives to watch the stars. The T.Rex smiled, closed his eyes, and made a wish.
He rested his arms on the railing and looked out over the vast tropical paradise in front of him. This place was rather perfect, he admitted to himself. And despite the nest emptying he realized it was all part of the plan. He finally understood how his parents felt at his age, and for the first time in his 42 years he felt serene. The cosmos must've felt his new-found calmness because he saw a massive shooting star streaking across the sky. He almost woke his wife, just so she could see the sheer size of it but decided to let her sleep. Besides, they had the rest of their lives to watch the stars. The T.Rex smiled, closed his eyes, and made a wish.
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