Over 16,508,982 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?

Apollo declines.

"Do you ever sleep?" I was smoking in the kitchen again. Not fish, not sausage. A big stinkin cigar. Okay, maybe not big, and to me, it wasn't stinkin. The invader was my roommate's companion for the night. I think. I hadn't really ventured out of the lair for quite some time. Only to make a grilled cheese, return to the swampy solitude of my unairconditioned hell. Maybe watch a couple black and white movies. Maybe a couple blue movies. Feel my eyes drip out of my sockets. I think I had been standing there, not attending to the conversation for a full two minutes while I stared at my fizzing concoction. Toast doesn't sizzle. It... fizzes. Gently. Hisses maybe. This is going to be a good sandwich. "Uh... yeah, about every three days." My butt dangling between my teeth, a pool of spit gathering, threatening to dribble down my chin and bare, pale chest. She was staring. I guess I did cut an odd figure. Fuzzy short copper hair, long, absurd cartoony boxers, and calf socks. All huddled raptly over an iron skillet waiting for that moment between crisp perfection and scorched ruin. Heavy... dark, stiff cheddar. Weeks in the fridge, probably meer hours from green fuzzy life emerging. Melting into a sweet layer of heaven tween a fresh dill sauce and two slices of an abandoned italian loaf. GOD this is going to be good. I take a serated knife out of the drawer, flop my masterpiece onto a waiting plate, and with one pristine, meticulous motion, I cleave it in two. Pulling it free, just to watch the dance of neon yellow with that mix of cream and green spots, long sheets of cheese, pulling into strings and fibers. "Is that my half?" ... "Yes, of course, I was just getting another plate" Paradise halved. By some strange tart. I give her my least favorite plate. The off-pink one with the bumpy flower in the middle. Fiesta-ware, right? "Thanks, you're really considerate making a stranger a sandwich, you're nothing like your roommate, he told me to get out." "Why didn't you?" "Waiting on a cab, we took his car." Of course. "and he didn't offer to give you a lift." "No." she said cheerily swinging her feet and taking that first cheesey bite. It reminded me of something innocent. Like a saturday morning before masturbation was discovered. Was she wearing MY Rage against the machine shirt? "Are you wearing MY rage against the machine shirt?" Y'know the one- the evil empire cover, with the kid in the hockey jersey thing... I think they based his face on a painting of christ, it'd explain the piercing charismatic gaze. It's about 10 sizes too big on her. I'm no giant... just six foot, what business did she have wearing it like pajamas? Like we had been dating for months. She only acknowledged it with an oblivious grunt from a mouth full of dairy. "Don't you have any clothes of your own?" "Yeah- but they're in Chris' room. I ... don't really wanna talk to him right now" More swinging feet, another big bite. Crescents of empty, diminishing and gathering. I take a final puff and flick the useless thing into the waiting sink. A hiss, a bite of sharp cheddar. God damn it I'm good. But then I started thinking, sighed, and tossed my plate and sammich onto the stovetop. By the time I got back to the kitchen, I had my second favorite jeans on, some sandles, and my keys in my hand. Never mind what shirt. She had finished my sandwich. Both halves. "Jesus christ kid, don't they feed you where you're from?" She WAS just a kid... something naive, foolish. Harmless. Fully grown, but helpless. Useless. It was in those silly green eyes of hers. And that vacant smile. "Sorry... I hadn't ate all day, and... it was soooo good, I thought you were done I'm so-" I just held up a finger in admonishing irritation. I thought for a moment, to facepalm, and explain to her how rude and oblivious she is, but instead "C'mon kid, let's get you home." I call everyone kid. Kinda comely in that useless bar slut fawn kinda way of hers. Or maybe they met at a party... this girl doesn't look old enough to get into any self respecting place with a liquor license. They can smell "barely legal" a mile away. We fall into my hoopty sedan, I start my engine, just now aware of the fact that I have NO idea where I'm going, with a girl that might not be out of highschool, in her panties, and my shirt... this'll be fun to explain if I get pulled over. "Where IS home?" "west side of town." she says barely over a whisper. Course. Girl that well groomed, with that kinda makeup, that kinda smell, that special brand of rich haughty retardation... We don't make small talk. We don't look at each other and smile. I get specifics, I pull up to her darkened door, behind a gate, past a security guard sleeping in an SUV, in a forest of identical high class homes. Number 24. Big gold letters. "you..uh... wanna come in? My dad's already asleep, maybe we could uuh- talk." When the hell did this girl learn to be shy? She was all sorts of unreserved when there was free food and clothing to steal. ... Fuck yeah I wanna go in, I want my shirt back! "Sure. I've got some time to kill." I had after all remained bare chested in the hopes that she'd notice I was going to get it back from her. We walk in, shut the door with all the force of a mouse fart, and walk softly upstairs to her room... an island away from her father's room, said it was on the ground floor. She let's me in, I'm bombarded by light, fading into pink, and cheerleader memorabilia... group pictures of group hugs, of group mentalities, of groups who will never see each other again after this summer. class of 07. Least she's not still in. Some stuffed animals, but no school books, no humming PC in the corner. Just a charging laptop, and a dresser littered with knicknacks and... yeah I'll go ahead and say it pointless shit. Like drug store receipts, and empty lip gloss containers. She peels off my shirt... like she lost all respect for her body and privacy weeks ago. Maybe the first time she was in a frat house gang bang... or a step father with "boundary problems". Just come sit on my lap... I couldn't help it, those cupcake tits, those boney thighs, the meaty, fleshy thighs of an athlete, her skin, uniform fleck free, smooth and tan like caramel. Must be an avid fake baker. The tone on the unexposed parts was shockingly pale. Whiter than my Irish ass. Like porcelain, or sun bleached skulls. Maybe she was a little high... it'd explain the blank stares, the empty head, and the inhibition. I don't have time to check her pupils, she plunges into a messy closet, emerges with an oversized pink jersey that says princess 00. I pick my shirt off the floor, dress myself, and nod. My farewell, my thanks for the show.. and the weird ass story. "You're leaving?" she sounds dissapointed. Maybe even bewildered. "Uh... yeah, I got what I came for." I lift the cloth off my chest and snap it back. "Well... I thought, maybe we could uuh talk, I mean, you were really nice to me, and I wanted to um... thank you." She plops onto her tiny bed. Barely suited for sleeping, barely designed for sex. Is that code for fucking? "Is that code for fucking?" FUCK! I need to learn how to not say what I'm thinking. She smirks... pulls her thin body into a corner, spreading her legs wide, exposing those turquoise panties again... "It can be if you want it to be." She says sweetly. As if her body promises all the peace and love of the universe, restrained by that thin smooth textile between her hips. Tempting... but alas... "Look kid, I don't even know your name-" "Claire." "Okay... look kid-" yeah, I know, I didn't even call her by her name even after I learned it "you're a pretty girl, but people will like you even if they don't fuck you... just... learn to respect yourself. You've got your whole life ahead of you, this isn't any way to get by." She didn't cry. She didn't snap her fingers and tell me what I was missing out on. I knew. "FUCK YOU!" A very large pillow came whizzing at my head. It boffed off harmlessly. "You think I just spread my legs for any fuckhead I meet!?" uuh... should I mention how long she had known me. or for that matter, how long she knew my roommate? "I just thought you were different, that you were nice that maybe... just FUCK OFF! GO!" Uh oh... knees up, body tucked as tight into that corner as possible. "I had a really bad night... okay, I..." Whimpering sobs... this isn't going as well as I had planned. But then again, what good can come when you call a girl a whore. Balled up... like a used, forgotten, scared little girl. I couldn't stop myself "Hey-" I say soothingly, what I imagine is how I'd approach a wounded badger. I brush a few tendrils of her hair out of her face... how exactly... did I get in bed with this girl? Had she planned this all along. Her fingernails... they're cutting into her arms. "Hey! Listen-" I pull her frail wrists from her broken skin. "No..just...go." The sobbing had stopped, replaced now by indignant haughtiness, and injured insult. How I wound up waking up next to this girl, is still a blur. There was a heartfelt explanation of adolescence becoming adulthood. Fear becoming success, confusion becoming identity, infatuation becoming love and then there was a lot of kissing. Soft wet desperate kissing between two lonely, scared kids. It was hard, leaving it at that. Nearly impossible. Hardly worth it. Maybe after the third date...
Leave a comment!
html comments NOT enabled! comment approval required.
NOTE: If you post content that is offensive, adult, or NSFW (Not Safe For Work), your account will be deleted.[?]

giphy icon
last post
15 years ago
posts
167
views
40,997
can view
everyone
can comment
everyone
atom/rss

recent posts

15 years ago
My funny infidel.
15 years ago
Life's blood.
15 years ago
Drink me.
15 years ago
Purge. (Firebug)
15 years ago
Performance art.

other blogs by this author

 2 years ago
Glass Salad
 4 years ago
Just South of Blue.
 13 years ago
Somantics
 13 years ago
Hurts to watch.
 15 years ago
I need a drink.
official fubar blogs
 8 years ago
fubar news by babyjesus  
 13 years ago
fubar.com ideas! by babyjesus  
 10 years ago
fubar'd Official Wishli... by SCRAPPER  
 10 years ago
Word of Esix by esixfiddy  

discover blogs on fubar

blog.php' rendered in 0.0404 seconds on machine '195'.