I am writing a story a week this month. Other people are doing things too. Jess and Julie are writing a poem a day and I think Alex is doing something. Please inform me if I missed you. I am too lazy too look. Yes. Too lazy to go to my Bloglines and look. I am also too lazy to fix the paragraph indents that somehow got overlooked when I brought this text from MS Word. It's actually not laziness. It's just indifference.
My lipids were low like a dingy feline. I rolled to the airport to scoop up my girlfriend. I was at the doctor’s office for 3 hours today.
My doctor told me, “Your adult anxiety will get you laid. Here’s some Xanax and a recipe.”
I was driving a 1988 IROC-Z that my aunt left me when she died.
My girlfriend tried to leave me last night but I just don’t know about that. She works at a coffee shop on the concourse. It’s called Flying Java. Hardly anyone tips because they don’t consider it a real coffee shop. She wants to get a job at the VIP lounge. My uncle said they give blowjobs in the bathroom there for tips.
Last night I said, “Your bun is come undone.”
She said, “If I were a rich girl.” She scratched her face. When we were kids I sat behind her on the school bus. One time the tag on her t-shirt was sticking up and I tucked it in for her. She looked behind her but she never said anything. I wrote my name backwards on the frosty window and I also wrote: “Help! We are kidnapped!”
Her parents were poor so she wore her older sister’s old clothes. They were not cool. They were never cool. But it was okay because I wore my older brother’s old clothes. His clothes were never cool until he decided to become a punk rocker and he made his own clothes with patches and frayed denim. I was the only one who paid attention to her and I think she hated me for it.
The airport security is pretty loose because it’s one of those smaller municipal airports that certain airlines reluctantly land at. There is a fat old deputy who sits at the metal detector and waves me in even though I don’t have a boarding pass. My metal teeth always make the alarm go off and I always just grin at him and he laughs. Today I also have a hunting knife.
We went on our first date when we were sophomores in high school. I think she still hated me because I was the only one who would talk to her and I had old clothes just like she did. We took the bus downtown and I bought her lunch at Sergio’s Deli and then we got ice cream sandwiches from Safeway. She was wearing a skirt that she may or may not have stolen from Target and some knee-high socks. She was skinny and I wanted to put my face next to her belly button and then kiss her hips.
We rented a horror movie and watched it in my living room. My parents were not home so I took a little of each of their bottles and mixed it in a drink and poured 7-Up in it. We sipped it and got giggly. I got brave and kissed her and then she pulled me to my room and we pulled and pulled on everything that would come off.
She was blending mochas and some of her hair was caught under her apron’s strap. I sat down just around the corner from her kiosk.
“The white zones are for loading and unloading only,” I thought, and “keep your luggage with you at all times.” Women in pantsuits wheeled their luggage by and I smelled their Chanel.
“Have a nice flight,” my girlfriend said to a customer.
“I’ll try. You have a good day.” I pictured her, 16, with ice cream dripping down her chin.
I got up and walked to the bathroom. With my head against the mirror I felt the hunting knife hiding in my shorts and I steeled myself for a hard afternoon.