A Hermit’s Announcement

©. Jan. 20, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

A hermit who feels

A laborious love

Wants his full-time freedom,

But has a duty,

Not worth the rogues

Announcing a catholicon.

It’s a capricious killer

Of discipline

For a doubting Thomas.

He sells his decorations,

Then his home is austere

And he’s withdrawn.

Touch him bone-dry

And he still won’t cry

Like feigned depression, yet depressed.

Eluding the CEO’s

Of passive-aggressiveness,

He ponders

Like he’s a eunuch

Listening to a married couple

With penpals.

He hears blankety-blank

And didactic tones

From used-to-be lovers.

Observing pretentious

Readers of lips,

Outpourings from eyes to bowls,

He is upright

In a blind alley,

Persuading a Casanova.

Displeased with wasting words

While speaking is like reading

For the first time,

But reading books about bugbears

While conceived

By yesterday’s trauma.

Grips on reality is accepting

That she blanches,

Leaving him,

For she is unfit

For a competent man,

Dusk and dawn forever.

Alluring smiles form

Like they see

Giant novelty checks in caskets.

He could be bloodless

With brainchilds heard

Like cannonades to a neighbor.

When every creature can feel

Like a burden

With the barriers steep,

It’s the loyal liberals

Versus the

Countervailing conservatives.

The probability to think

What they’re thinking

Is repetition.

Ensanguined exes

Can be revived by storms,

But question who else lives.

Pharisees rebuke

His remission of sins,

Lest they offend others.

Surviving on this Earth

Takes iniquity

And immortality.

He would rather thirst

With the Bible

As a coping mechanism.

He would rather die

Than survive on a dying planet

He can see.

New Gossamer

©. Jan. 13, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

This web comic project that I worked on is basically pencil work. It’s not much fanciness going on involving having a flattener, colorist, and other stuff. It’s fully me doing this stuff, my way. Hopefully, some people can read my handwriting though.

The description: Rain, (the main character) a teenage girl and hometown hero involved in the goth scene has high ambitions of being the lead singer in a rock band. When there is a commercial of film director, Johnny Gossamer, advertising his newly built town called New Gossamer (where all goths are welcomed to explore over 2 million acres), Rain cannot pass up the opportunity. There are various apartment complexes and townhouses, grocery stores, cabarets, concerts, graveyards, and more.

All of the Frazzled

©. Nov. 30, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

She can stop thinking

About having a soulmate,

Let alone a partner.

It’s my birthright to love,

But she follows me

Until she finds flaws in me.

Might I add that flowers last

For about a week,

But she gets prettier?

She joins saints with no complaints,

But on Earth,

There’s grandfather clauses to see.

I don’t want the one to forget

Her wedding vows

And I don’t want children.

I don’t want bad thoughts on them,

But want life

In the northern extremities.

In order for her to want me,

I have to do the job

Of 3 Wise men

And if there were not 3 Wise Men,

Then I am her job,

But without rupees.

Risking my life means that

She may think about wanting me,

But she is dust,

In the serenity,

Buried in the foggiest place

That I can find.

I gave her all that I have,

But was deluded

With her trust and stardust.

Please respect my privacy,

But everyone wants

To get inside my mind.

First impressions are deceiving

Because I try hard

To look different,

But she may even allow her parents

And grandparents

Whoop her children

Would her children be my children,

But mine are unborn

Like an accident

And it’s not a mere accident,

Because I am better now

Than I was then.

Replenish my riches

Of happiness like I’m married

On my birthday,

But I’m not because the world

Is a cutthroat competition

With cancer.

Must my words persuade the world

Or must I pose in front of bookshelves

And pray?

I pray by my lonesome

Wholesomely and no longer

Am I a poser.

Do you think that I think

That you think

About me?

Someone with no talent

Still has to enter

A talent community

Like being on house arrest

With no stores nearby

And still getting older.

I’ve not been to prison,

But have been imprisoned

By the merest tv,

Wanting to be spoon-fed

Puréed apples,

But I’m not because it’s colder.

I’m interviewed,

Tested, and set up

Without even knowing about it

And English is my native language,

But I still

Cannot explain my life.

When the moment is right,

The watchers are watched,

Wondering why you don’t quit.

When the moment is right,

The watchers know that God is watching

All the strife.

I can attest to you

That I’ve been questioned

On how I think someone looks.

Saying “Yes,” may make the person

Throw a tantrum,

But their action’s sincere.

When I’m at work, strangers tell her

How they won’t leave her sight,

But I read books.

It’s a pricy headache

Like feeling spit through a trumpet,

Lasting a year.

Like I’m in my 30s

Finding out

About the Council of Nicaea,

I’m aware that the New Testament

Been around,

But I’m not complaining.

May she accept

The Trinity

More than just a sweet-sounding idea,

Keeping her body Holy

Like her boyfriend friend zones women

For nothing.

I would not worship you,

But I would endure prolonged starvation

With you

And I would endure sleep deprivation

While you tug on

My love handles.

Should not love be

In my vocabulary

Because of what I go through?

The frazzled does not determine failure

And some failures

Are called rebels.

Do you think that I think

That you think

About me?

Mount Rushmore of Poets

©. Oct. 17, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

Who is my Mount Rushmore

Of poets to ever live?

I asked myself this fun question

At least once or twice.

A question like this

Makes me feel determinative

To saunter down Highway 50

Alone for advice.

My viewpoints are in

A non-disclosure agreement

Because that’s how I’d

Prefer adulthood to be viewed.

I feel like I’m whispering

To myself in my head

Like actors rehearsing their lines,

But I’m no actor.

I’m an umber man,

Walking into a riverbed.

I’m clean, but still umber,

Finding enterobacter

In the desert plants

And I ignore the thousand chants.

Time becloud the petroglyphs

Due to the sand dunes.

I have a mouth that’s as rich

As unclaimed property,

Auctioned off by the states

While my penmanship is dead.

I’ve bypassed lakes,

Mountains, and caves conveniently

Because these words should

Make me travel the lands widespread.

My words have been restricted

To travel where I want,

Just like I’ve been restricted

To travel to treasures.

Again, I’ve been threatened

And told that words are just words,

But you’d charge leaders

For sedition and expect peace.

You fell victim to treachery,

Then to umpteen birds.

Ghost towns await women

And warmth like a press release.

Pressure is sauntering

To the ammunition store

Without getting shot on the way there,

But that’s our lives.

Why would I care about

A Mount Rushmore anyway?

George Washington Carver

Was in fact a slave owner

And a Freemason,

Learning lies like the CIA.

He was shoved down your esophagus

Like a stoner,

Accepted like a blood donor

Who can fill a void.

Where are my manners

When I know that he told a lie?

Thomas Jefferson

Was in a fraternity, too!

The founding fathers

Were really devil worshippers.

Thomas Jefferson enslaved,

But you can’t sue.

You want reparations,

But they are dying numbers.

They say that he wasn’t a Mason,

But why believe?

“He wasn’t a Mason,”

But he did use the symbols.

When Theodore Roosevelt

Created the square deal,

You believed a message

From a republican.

The man was born

Before there was an automobile.

He was a Harvard graduate

And businessman.

Man, he was a Master Mason,

So you can’t trust him.

You couldn’t trust him,

But people like to trust the past.

Abraham Lincoln,

In fact, did not end slavery.

He planned the Union victory

For the Civil War.

Slaves exist today

When sins are viewed as bravery.

Maybe they had 1.4 horsepower

Drenched in gore

Or a redeeming quality

To the slave owners.

Who wants to be

A childless child of God in these days?

Value my company

Over my competition,

Stare at the sun

And tell me that you love the color,

Speak on behalf of the people

With an aggression,

And burn a Jolly Roger

To give to your brother.

The greatest poet that I can think of

Is Jesus.

More so, I cannot name

An honorable mention.

I’m Not Your Windfall

©. Oct. 8, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

When you say, “You wish me the best,”

How many other people

Did you say that too?

I prefer blessings and not wishes

And loneliness can be

The gravest grievance.

I’m not your windfall because I rot

While the other apples are caught,

Though in pooh.

We’ve all been in pooh,

But some of us are color-blind,

Pooh-poohing the facts like new.

I rot black and the night sky

Unloved me

Like I committed capital offense.

My innocence is perceived

As a cell phone

Mistaken for a sawed off shotgun.

My innocence is that

Poetry disowned me,

But poetry never owned me.

Are you prepared to spend

Your life savings on a conversation

That leads nowhere?

I prefer night-long texts

As big as Texas,

But remember being despised.

Remember, I’m a product,

But you made the product

Defend itself with a glare.

Even animals get objectified,

But I’m realer

Than the natural air.

I’m realer than families

With a 1-bedroom apartment

And nowhere to hide.

I dry my eyes

Like someone is death diving

Into a sentimental moment.

You’ve programmed the technologies

And poisoned the foods,

Then treat me like an object.

Do the sight of animals

Cloud your mind because I think

You’re mentally challenged.

I think you’re anguished

Over how beautiful that I am,

But love the hate you’ve learned.

You hate the smell

Of unity and charity,

As well as a brother avenged.

You hate the voices,

Then you hate the choices

Like unhinged citizens who had cringed.

You hate proper English

Because you still use racial slurs

Like you’re not self-concerned.

You want people

With an education,

But agree with the Illuminati.

If you disagree,

Then your followers agree,

Hating the sound of Black A.M.

You want a girlfriend that looks so good,

The world wants to try her,

Then stare at mine.

You feel so entitled

Like a hunter-gatherer

On everyone’s property,

But I won’t accept quit

If I’m acquitted of a crime

And get hated online.

You want to beat a deadline

And resign on cloud nine,

But wear blood and iodine.

You’re willing to worship devils

To get ahead

Like you created chivalry.

Try to delineate

How you will unlove me

Based off of someone else’s actions.

I could unlove you

Based off someone else’s actions,

But objects don’t have feelings.

You’re crooning about

Every hate group that’s not being

On the terrorist watchlist,

But what if people look at you

Like you’re destined

To commit a white collar crime?

Enlist a group and they

May not be watched

Like pathological liars dismissed.

Like someone who never reads

Your text messages after you die,

You won’t be missed.

Remembered like opened mail

Before the your neighbors

Open their mail during halftime,

You share your self-incriminating hate

And your coworkers

Keep it a secret.

You share your

Credible courage

And your deliberate indoctrination.

You love death

Because you have a hunting license

And a riot at your doorsteps.

The fruit taste sweet,

But you love sweet meat often

And would rather not pick from the shops.

You love bobbing for apples

At the black markets and back,

Doing 70 reps.

You love taking baby steps with a badge,

Attempting to benchpress honer,

But schleps.

You think you’re God,

But someone got 20% off your momma

On the treetops.

You think you can rewrite history

From Jesus,

To the Atlantic Slave Trade,

To the the Hep-Hep riots,

To the 1985 MOVE bombing,

And 9/11.

Everything seems to be about you,

But you need other colors

To coexist.

You boast about sin,

But should be thankful to be alive

With corporate outsourcing.

Everyone doesn’t forgive,

But it’s not too late to change,

Then you’re on a blacklist.

You smell affirmative action

And immigrants,

Then act like you’re an altruist.

You’ll make more money

Like the Public Integrity Section

Teaching your offspring.

Your eyes are saying, “Why should I

Hire you”; your mouth is saying, “Come

Back next time.”

You would lose your breath

If an immigrant becomes your doctor,

Then find it again.

When you fall in love

With a white immigrant

And she gets deported, are you glad?

Are you glad when your immigrant

Girlfriend goes to war

With guns and ballistic shields?

She’s your compact crossbow

Because you’re supposed

To be deadlier in this Baghdad.

You’ve not seen Baghdad

And you hate its people,

But love sand castles and armor clad.

You love gossip and fake news

And the Internal Affairs

Helping you with appeals.

You love crooked cops

As much as decision fatigue,

But you need to go asleep.

You love the mountains

With unleveled stairs on the edge,

But still think about apples.

A mélange of apples and oranges,

You despise, but you despise

Your own eyes.

You want division,

But in 1981,

Tried to conquer Dominica.

Was that you because you like to say

What’s me and predict what I’ll do,

Which are lies.

You love that Forrest Gump

Was named after a Grand Wizard

And love your battle cries.

You want to sponsor

Ballgames and fireworks,

Just to travel back to Alabama.

You want to Nazify the youth

Because you love traveling,

But hate the Christians.

Your fraternity claimed Christianity,

Only to hate the

God-fearing Christians.

Because Wernher von Braun

Was a member of the Nazi party,

You celebrate.

You’re a party animal,

But unbeliever,

Who is an evolutionist.

The Big Bang Theory was created

By a Catholic priest

Even though you hate

Catholics like the canon law

Just as much as fresh bananas

And section eight.

You hate that you think that

You can wear lawsuits

And that you became a plagiarist.

You hate when you procreate

And when you don’t

Because you want to hate everything.

You hate your family

Because the DNA test lied to you

About your roots.

You hate because you

Went on vacation alone,

But left the heater on at home.

You hate that it’s probably racist

To date and not date

Outside of your own race.

You hate because you wasted

5 seconds looking at

An extra Y chromosome.

You hate the environment

And influence of cultures,

Yet you hate monochrome.

You hate the worries

Like every apple is Bumpy Johnson

Having a court case,

But love common naysayers,

Societal pressures,

And family opinions.

Yet, when Moses married a Cushite,

God was angry

With Aaron and Miriam.

Flower City Haters

©. Sept. 11, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1:

Early Candy

“Hand it over, now. Do you want me to call your mom. Then you’ll be grounded for a month with no television,” a 12-year-old girl (wearing black overalls) walks into the kitchen saying after watching cartoons in the living room.

A 14-year-old boy (wearing a black, low fade haircut, cylindrical lenses, a grey t-shirt and beige corduroy pants) turns, turns the faucet handle to the sink to the right side, allowing hot water to rush down the drain. While the water overshadows his voice, the sound of the stress that she put him through for 12 years erupts from the simplest whisper.

“Get lost,” he says.

He turns the faucet handle the opposite way, then water stops running out of faucet.

“I’m gonna tell your mom,” she says.

He turns on the faucet handle back to the right side, says “Shut up,” and turns it to the left. The girl takes a deep breath and extends the palm of her hand out confidently. When he walks up to her, he forcefully shakes her hand. When he releases his hand, he notices that her hand is still extended out. This, he hands her a box of creamy milk chocolate candy.

Instantly, the kitchen lights turn on. A 34-year-old woman with black micro braids enters the kitchen with a concerned face. It’s no one other than their mother, wearing a fleece purple bathrobe and her son is looking like a confused man who planned to burglarize a home, but overheard a family getting into a scuffle.

“Incompetent children. What the hell is going on? It’s two o’clock in the morning,” their mother yells.

Tentatively, he says as if though he was stuck in an air-tight casket for 2 whole minutes, “I was thirsty, so I got up to get some water.”

“Why is Nia up too?”

“When I woke up, she followed me down the stairs. She’s thirsty too,” he says while nervously shaking.

Mrs. Rochester says, “Get your water and get back to bed. You’re not old enough to drink water by yourself, wasting my water bills.”

He grabs a clean cup from the dishwasher and runs cold water inside of it.

Mrs. Rochester says, “Don’t drink yet. Aren’t you forgetting something?”

He hands his sister the cup.

As Nia takes a sip, the mother says, “Ladies first. You may not like the rules around here, but as long as you live here, you’ll abide by them. I can create a million more of you. You only get one mother. Don’t you forget that. This will be the last time you two wake me up. Repeat what I said.”

“We may not like the rules around here, but as long as we live here, he have to abide by then. That you can create a million more of us, we only get one mother, to never forget that, that this will be the last time we wake you up, and to repeat what you said,” Nia says.

Mrs. Rochester says to him, “Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’m sorry,” he says as he grabs another cup, turns the faucet handle, then watches the water rush into the cup. He turns the handle the opposite way, then drinks his water, placing his cup in the sink. Afterwards, he politely takes Nia’s empty cup from her and places it in the sink.

Before he can exit the kitchen, the mother says, “Aren’t you forgetting something else?”

He turns the kitchen light off, only for his mom to turn it back on. Perspiration runs down his face.

“Why is my candy sitting on the counter?”

Nia says, “Shaun is stealing candy. I warned him not to. Please don’t kill him, Mrs. Rochester,” then she is sagacious enough to rush up the switchback stairs, passing up an attic pull-down ladder, to head in her bedroom.

“Where do you think you’re going? I heard the idiot box that you had on! You’re grounded for a month!”

Everyone hears loud footsteps coming from upstairs. Like the myth of a motherly bird smelling the scent of humans on her eggs, just to abandon them, Mrs. Rochester exits the kitchen. Her olfactory senses are like nobody else.

Mr. Rochester says, “What is all this raucous?”

With more rage than a consigliere, Mr. Rochester rushes downstairs in his white underwear, yielding a black leather belt. He swings the belt at a screaming Shaun as Forest, their red and white bulldog runs into the living room, barking.

“Stop all that screaming. Are you going to be screaming when you’re thirty and still can’t get a job interview?”

Nia hears the harsh sound of the lashings that her older brother is taking and locks her bedroom door to cry in a closed milk-white wardrobe closet, which is made out of pine wood. The small space is treated as if it’s a walk-in closet, the way she fits her entire body inside.

As if Shaun is a crawfish attached to a primitive fishing gorge, she can hear Mrs. Rochester yell, “Get your hands off of him! Leave him alone!”

Forest continues to bark, then Mr. Rochester says, “Shut that dog up!“

Chapter 2:

Trying To Chill

A 15-year-old Shaun (wearing a black, slicked back haircut, eyeglasses, a black book bag, black winter coat, blue jeans, and leather, tawny boots) is riding his bluish-green bicycle. Using the bicycle, he chases after the yellow school bus in the slushy snow. Teenagers laugh at him from the bus.

It is only 15 degrees Fahrenheit in the foggy weather and he if it was not for him maintaining a strong grip on the handlebars, he would’ve ran into an unfinished snowman.

Suddenly, a teenager (wearing a blue baseball cap backwards, an over large blue t-shirt, black jeans, and blue tennis shoes) rushes from the sidewalk and pushes Shaun. He falls from his bicycle, causing his eyeglasses to fall from his face. Two other teenagers wearing mostly blue attire laugh at him.

One teenager with a brown buzz cut hairstyle says, “Smile for the camera. We’re about to go viral” while using a black cell phone to record Shaun getting defenselessly beaten on while the other two are kicking him on the ground. The victim groans in agony, then the stranger with the baseball cap steals Shaun’s book bag. The other assailant steps on his eyeglasses and takes his wallet, after striking him in the face. A bloody nose arrives on his face and the teenagers that traumatized him could’ve had blue paint covering their skin, been mute, and incorporated many kinds of arts worldwide, (especially in Sin City, which is Las Vegas, Nevada) and he wouldn’t know the difference. Shaun suffers from musical anhedonia anyway.

The recorded footage of him getting attacked eventually surfaces all across social media. Everyone in his school knows him as not only the unpopular teenager, but now, the unpopular teenager who did not know how to defend himself. He is teased my numerous people to the point that he leaves classrooms without permission and slams the doors and leave the school premises, but somehow still manages to pass all of his classes.

Chapter 3:

Big Talk

“Wassup, my gee,” a 19-year-old clean-cut male named Angelo (wearing a white denim bucket hat over a black mid fade haircut, tinted red sunglasses, an authentic white fur jacket around a black long sleeve, loose fit shirt, white chino pants, and white denim loafers) says. Angelo is the type of person who wears a face that looks like he says a thousand self-affirmations each day.

An 18 year-old Shaun on the sidewalk (wearing a black, high fade haircut, eyeglasses, a brown leather cossack jacket around a white-t-shirt, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes) positions to give Angelo a fist bump handshake. Angelo extends his arm out, with his fingers forward, making Shaun to rearrange which handshake he should use. Both of their palms touch when Angelo used a top-handed handshake.

Cirrostratus clouds are in the sky. Near the sidewalk, there’s fine fescue grass. Gigi’s Greeneries, a fast-food restaurant, is beside them on the left side. On the right side of the restaurant, there is a black chain link gate to a parking lot area where an aspiring architect named Megan (wearing a black bob haircut, a silk, white blouse, a pink, laced mini skirt, and leather, black knee-high, leather boots), flirtatiously calls Angelo’s name. Angelo walks by and kisses her with the gates in front of them.

When a 17-year-old boy (wearing a red baseball cap backwards, red t-shirt, grey sweatpants and red tennis shoes) is riding a bicycle pass them, he speeds in the intersection. The red light signal does not seem to be of any importance to the young generation, besides the red-light district with a fake identification.

The boy says to them, “I got pulled over twice on the way here. I beat last week’s record.”

Angelo says, “Go home with your mom before I pull you over. Lesser-known loser. What part of go home don’t you understand? I can make your momma breathe like a coal miner! You look like a middle-aged aspiring sewer scavenger! Come get me, you, I want to be the mayor lookin’ boy, but work as a dishwasher lookin’ boy! I want some cookies, lookin’ boy! I want to go to college to be a janitor, lookin’ boy! I come home to a family of five as a professional butt wiper, lookin’ boy! I can’t pay my momma’s rent, lookin’ boy!My dogs ate my food stamps, lookin’ boy! I still pick up chicks at the food pantry, lookin’ boy!”

“Let’s go! I ain’t scared, bruh!”

The boy keeps riding his bicycle forward, then Angelo says, “I thought so. I got yo momma on speed dial, boy!”

Shaun says, “You have like thirty numbers on speed dial!”

Angelo says, “What can I say. I wouldn’t be here today if the chicks didn’t pave the way. Hold up. I see you staring at that fine protein-rich piece of meat again. It’s time for you to make a move or get some room service to borrow kisses and share dishes. You can’t experience a chick without asking, unless on rare occasions she’s up for a situationship. Being shy isn’t going to cut it ‘round here, bruh. If she’s not feelin’ you, you can find another and she may be a low fat piece of meat. This was you all week, but you want all her for the wrong reasons. That’s what I’m just sayin’ bruh.”

Angelo makes a face mimicking Shaun as if though he is spaced out, then overreacts by drooling on the concrete. The boy riding his bicycle turns around, then shouts, “Gross! Lose some weight you little old man! Your body goes above and beyond the sidewalk’s maximum weight capacity! I heard boy scouts are hiring!”

“Gross all you want! I still got your momma on speed dial! And I’m gonna be steady doing this with her! I may even stop, drop, and roll on her, then we’ll see what type of loud-mouth teenyboppers she makes,” Angelo continues to drool.

Shaun says, “Keep it cool. Remember? You’re going to get me called…”

Angelo interrupts, “Like you aren’t already. Look man. Make a move, then you don’t have to live the rest of your life wondering about what if. Just be yourself. There’s plenty of more chicks that look like her if she says no. And some have bigger…”

“Don’t you talk about my momma! You’re as big as a house, but still smell like a nursing home! You need to stop and brush yo teeth! I smell tuna cans and yeast ‘round here,” the boy says, then a police car shows up.

Angelo says, “That young blood is goin’ places, but so is his mother. Every day. Every night.”

The police officer says from the driver’s seat to the 17-year-old male, “Boy, are you lost?”

Without answering the police officer’s question, the boy covers his nose, then speeds on his bicycle like he’s avoiding an arrest for disturbing the peace and makes a right turn. The boy heads back home passing up a yellow, opened fire hydrant, which is used as a public sprinkler to gush out water. He jumps off of his bicycle, paces himself pass 3 rows of clotheslines with washed clothes hung on them, then rings a doorbell. Two children are prancing around in the gushing water, nearby a mucky alley that has graffiti on the walls. The police car makes a left turn away from the event, red shoes that are on a telephone wire. Then the police sirens turn on, alarming many people in the neighborhood.

Annie, a 21-year-old brunette with subtle gold highlights at the tips of her long, curly hair is walking into the reputable Gigi’s Greeneries, a fast-food restaurant. She has a black fedora, a yellow long-sleeve, denim jacket (with button-flap chest pockets and non-functional side waist pockets) over a white spaghetti strap, a white, leather belt, blue dress pants, and black dress shoes. Shaun was close enough to sniff the body wash that she scrubbed on herself before walking outside, but he sustained himself from doing so. She has the aroma of fresh pancakes and syrup.

Angelo says, “You think you’re ready to date someone like Annie? Bruh, chicks like that aren’t into good men like you. Don’t waste your time. You want to give her the world? Don’t answer that. That’s a rhetorical question. Let me ask you somethin’. Is this chick willing to stay with you in the crib when she can be hangin’ out with her girls in the Bahamas? Is she going to get tired of you askin’ how much did you spend on that outfit? Is she goin’ to want to smell you the next morning, in the bed together? Do you plan to show a woman like that to your family? Wife her up and she’s takin’ your life savings, the crib, and your children with her, while sharing it with some other man. You two ain’t gonna be at work full-time. Not with her energy. I wouldn’t want her as a friend, bruh. I like all sizes. I like them slim, slim thick, and thick. That’s what protection is for. I ain’t no chubby chaser either. I don’t care if they come in purple.”

The moment that Angelo turns around to where Shaun was originally at, he sees Shaun entering the front door to the restaurant. Out of disappointment, Angelo sighs. Angelo’s phone rings, then he answers the phone.

Inside of Gigi’s Greeneries, Shaun checks the time on his phone. It is only 8:30 A.M. in Chicago, Illinois and everywhere he looks, there’s customers sitting at a table. Either he can approach Annie and try to befriend her or not, wondering what if he could’ve turned a friendship with his crush into a relationship. He is nervous like an amateur thief hot-wired a sports car, then discovered that a baby is in a booster seat. She is just a human. Females are humans, so he has to stay calm.

“Annie. Long time, no see. I didn’t know you eat at the Gigi’s Greeneries. I hangout here all the time.”

She smiles, saying, “Hey. It’s just a quick stop. I’m here to pick up some spaghetti and walnut sauce for a friend. I’ve seen you hanging around here with… Angelo, right?”

“That’s him,” then Shaun looks at Angelo arriving in the front door, aimlessly looking for him.

“Your new hairstyle looks good… for an inexplicable reason.”

“Thank you. I didn’t have time to beautify it. That’s why I covered it.”

Annie smiles sufficiently as if Shaun has birth defects, when he says, “You look almost as good as me.”

A blond crew member with short, straight hair and green eyes at the restaurant by the name of Tammy Green, says, “Hello. Can I take your order?”

Annie says, “I would like a spaghetti and walnut sauce and grilled cauliflower steak. Make that a milkshake that consists of vanilla ice cream and a half packet of vanilla pudding mix, frozen banana slices, pineapples, and mangoes, marshmallows and graham crackers, a splash of coconut milk.”

Tammy says, “One spaghetti and walnut sauce and grilled cauliflower steak, with a Banana Cruise Milkshake coming up.”

Shaun digs into his right back pocket, takes out his wallet, removes his credit card.

Annie says, “You don’t have to. You really don’t. You’re so sweet.”

Shaun blushes. He can imagine making out with her on a subway if he gets to know her more.

He then hands Tammy his credit card, saying, “Everything that she ordered, put it on the card.”

Tammy takes the credit card, returns the card back to Shaun, then hands Annie a receipt, saying “Your number is Four. Zero. Five.” Moments later, Tammy calls out the number of Annie’s food order “Four. Zero. Five.” Tammy forms a smile as if Shaun was asked by Annie, “Want to not go to the prom together?”

“That’s me. Have a wonderful day,” Annie says, showing Tammy the receipt, then grabbing the plastic bag of warmly cooked food, along with her appetizing milkshake.

“I’ll be seeing you around,” Shaun says like she is not a high maintenance female capable of living off of free bus fare, train fare, and gas vouchers.

“Don’t count on it,” Annie carelessly says like Shaun is a grocery bagger, who experienced a failed suicide, then exits the store, laughing.

The heartbreaking moment is as awkward as experiencing butt-slapping in the sport of baseball, basketball, or football for the first time. It is as awkward as a lifeguard that he is not attracted to in the slightest, but he is seconds away from dying and as awkward as receiving a body cavity search, only to find out that the person he planned to meet failed to arrive. Also, the moment is as awkward as meeting a woman for the first time on a mechanical bull, then singing to her the second time on a crowded public transportation bus.

Maybe next time, Shaun will keep a budget. He looks at his receipt, then notices that the order is $21.99. As if it’s not the first time he paid for someone’s meal just to be rejected as a friend, he smirks.

A muscular man owning 20-inch arms with a green tattoo of angel wings (has a blue comb in his black afro, an authentic, .999 fine silver chain connected to an authentic, .999 fine silver pendant of a handgun, an authentic .999 fine silver watch, a blue button-down shirt with floral designs, blue jeans, and grey shoes) steps out of his black sports car. There’s already an anonymous woman (presenting herself with a black wolf cut hairstyle, a laced bandeau top, denim shorts, and green tennis shoes) in the passenger’s seat of the sports car. The muscular man gives Shaun a head nod, firmly grabs Annie’s hand, walks her to the car, opens the door for her, shuts the door, then makes his way to the driver’s seat. Annie nibbles on the muscular man’s earlobe like a chew toy. Afterwards, he kisses the congruent women on the lips, turns on the radio station, then drives the car down the road.

Angelo walks over, then says, “Forget about that unroyal chick. That unloyal chick. That unworthy chick. She’ll be running back. You don’t need gold diggers like that where you’re going. Those are leftovers.”

Shaun says, “You said it first.”

Angelo says, “All the way to the top, baby.”

Shaun says, “Annie. Anne. Anchovies. What’s the difference?”

Angelo says, “First, we have to change your look. Stand still. I’m going to fix you up,” then like it’s crucial, he removes Shaun’s eyeglasses. Angelo removes his tinted sunglasses, then places them on Shaun, leaving Shaun saying, “I can’t see out of these things.” Angelo says, “What gives? Nobody cares if you can see. It’s about looking cool. Stop overthinking. Just relax. Act comfortable and not anxious and suspicious. You have a lot to work on.”

“What about my glasses?”

“You’re not getting these back. You’re going to start wearing eye contacts for now on. Chicks out here can’t stand men with disabilities.”

Chapter 4:

Jobs Hate Me

It is 5:00 A.M. Shaun is at home sitting on his king-size bed with grey sheets. A laptop is on his lap and he is applying for multiple jobs for a couple of hours. On his left side is his white, 4-panel closed doors installed. In front of the bed is a black flat-screen television on a glass entertainment set.

In his email, a hiring manager finally reaches back to him for a Remote Writer position, then asks him to give an unpublished writing sample about his favorite video game and why it’s his favorite video game. He only has to write 500 persuasive and entertaining words or less about his favorite video game, so he does, then sends the writing sample to the hiring manager. Then, as if Sean spent overnight creating a new and illegible font and pretended that it was permissible, the hiring manager unprofessionally sends an email mocking his talents, saying, “You’re untalented. Your skills are not up to par to work at this gig.” Just like the other messages, he used the Times New Roman font and it is not like he disrespected the hiring manager.

Another hiring manager, but for a National Trivia Game Writer position that he applied for says, “Thank you so much for your interest in writing for Run The Raucous. We had an overwhelming response and were only able to hire 1 writer at this time. We have openings for writers periodically, so if you’re still interested, please apply again. We’d also encourage you to attend some live-hosted trivia nights to see how they work if you haven’t done so already. Thanks again.” The message is just like the rest, but only most of the jobs he applied to do not reach back to him. Some of the hiring managers even respond back to him as if he was studying primatology, so he would prefer to never be overqualified.

Mrs. Rochester walks upstairs and randomly says outside of his closed bedroom door, “You’re coming to church with your grandma today. Get dressed.”

Sean places his laptop on the bed, then slams the back of his head on the mattress, saying, “Yes, ma’am.”

Mr. Rochester says, “Boy. Do you want to go to grandma’s house this Sunday? We may just meet up at the Millewood’s Ice Castle.”

Sean says, “I don’t celebrate holidays.”

Mr. Rochester says, “Your grandma isn’t going to celebrate a holiday. Uncle Larry is going to be there. You don’t remember Larry, do you? You’ve not seen Larry ever since you were like five. Do you want to go or not? We may never see some of these family members again. You hear about how heart diseases run in the family. They’re getting older and…”

“Sure,” Sean says, as if he would have to leave the vicinity.

Mr. Rochester says over the phone, “She’s going to make the best Easter party of all-time. Sean said he’s coming. Don’t bail out on us now, boy” and kisses Mrs. Rochester on the lips.

Chapter 5:

Take Me Over

Wearing a black suit and black, leather dress shoes, Sean is seated in the front row, with his mother (wearing a brown cardigan around a tank top, neutral orange dress pants, and black, wool dress shoes) on the left side and grandma (wearing a reddish brown knee-length blazer dress and black, mahogany dress shoes) on the right. A choir gets on stage to sing, then the attendants stand up to dance and clap their hands. Sean is reluctant to stand, only to be told to stand by his mother, who holds his hand. While his mother and grandmother dances joyfully, he portrays an expression as if he still has not left his bedroom.

Sean feels like every church wants everyone to tithe after seeing someone carrying a bucket full of currency throughout the crowd. When the bucket gets closer to him, his grandmother hands him $5 to place in the bucket, saying, “God is watching you with my money.” After Mrs. Rochester places $50 in a bucket, Sean places $5 in the bucket, staring at all of the currency the church has, only for the preacher to return back to teaching a prosperity gospel (prosperity theology).

Chapter 6:

Not Like This

“Nobody is hiring and I definitely don’t want to work at the local church,” Sean says over the phone.

Angelo says, “Cats are always hiring. What you mean is nobody is hiring you. Jobs have their excuses. You’re either in or out. You’re overqualified. I’m sure Jesus was overqualified when He was a carpenter. You’re not right for this position. Have you seen the politicians, bruh? I just wouldn’t apply to be an electrician if I know nothin’ about electronics. You have to prove yourself to be a hard worker and if they still don’t accept it, create your own business. Look man, come to my church and we can pick up some chicks. Your senile mom should be okay with you leaving the crib. Just tell her that you found the Lord.”

Sean says, “I believe in a supreme being. I’m no more than a superior person than the next. Nobody except for the Creator is the supreme being. I just don’t believe in everything my preacher preaches.”

“I’m superior than you at gettin’ these chicks. You should’ve seen how I got the last chick. I said it’s on sight. When I see you, I’m making good love to you.”

“That you are, but I’m not sure if that technique works on every woman. I wouldn’t say that I’m really religious though. With my preacher’s big mansions, expensive cars, flashy suits, and jewelry, I would think he has enough smackaroos to help out some of the people in the impoverished communities to help them with social programs, including housing and education. You know. Get them out of their mom’s house. This preacher claims that he already engages in charitable activities, but does not disclose what charities he supports. I wouldn’t highlight a Bible. I’d be afraid that God would be mad at me for marking the book. Im not sure what you do. Do you highlight the Bible?”

Angelo says, “I’m not highlighting the Bible, bruh. Bruh, you can’t stop your blood from going to that church… every day. You can only tell your blood so much and if they don’t wanna listen, don’t sweat it. Wait. Have you told them how you feel about the church?”

Sean says, “That sounds like a great idea. I’ll just follow up with expressing my innermost feelings to family. Dear family, I could not help but tell all of you about the restless nights I had while I still live under your roof. I want to be treated like an adult, even though I respect not having to pay all of the utility bills. I really wouldn’t have any privacy.”

“Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do. And they parted his raiment, and cast lots. Luke chapter twenty-three. Verse thirty-four. My ex would blabber on about Jesus all day. She was some sweet lady that my parents set me up with.”

“They got to you too, huh?”

Like he recently experienced a dental extraction and bugs recolonized his mouth, he says, “Meet me outside in fifteen minutes at where we usually hangout. From there, I’m getting one of my chicks to show you a good time.”

“I’m not into the same types of women you hangout with. What’s her name?”

“Chill. It’s a chick named Julia. I’ve known you ever since kindergarten, bruh. I got you. The chick that I chose for you isn’t like the others. Julia has etiquette. She ain’t gonna finesse you out of all your money. Rock those sunglasses I got for you. I hope your contact lenses were delivered early.”

“Etiquette. This, I have to not see.”

Chapter 7:

Angelo Introduces Julia to Sean

In defiance, a malevolent teenager dressed in all black attire throws a brick at the window of a local currency exchange. A currency cashier (with a black, short, and spiky quiff and a high fade haircut) hurries through the broken window yielding a shotgun, saying, “You…”

Immediately, the sound of a helicopter in the sky is whirring. The currency cashier shoots at the armed hooligan three times. All three gunshots miss the hooligan. Thus, the rebellious teenager runs the opposite direction.

While across the street, Sean (wearing a silver baseball cap backwards over a black, pompadour haircut, red, tinted sunglasses, a silver, leather down jacket, blue jeans, and white tennis shoes) and Angelo (wearing a navy blue, fleece bucket hat, white, leather down jacket, black jeans, navy blue jeans, and black tennis shoes) are sauntering down the sidewalk. There are several unworried construction workers working on a building on the left side of the street. Crime is too prevalent to be worried about.

A gorgeous 18-year-old woman named Julia Paramount (with a white floppy hat made out of paper and straw, black, curly shullet and thick bangs, tortoiseshell sunglasses with brown lenses, green eyes on her heart-shaped face, an orange swing dress with black floral designs, and brown moccasin shoes) looks out the window from the hair salon. She notices that Shaun (who is not a licensed bird rehabilitator) is talking to a friend. He is moving in slow motion in her eyes with a shining light hovering over him, but it is her imagination.

Sean is walking across the street and moves a bird’s nest with two bird eggs from the grassy terrains, into a hollow tree, after a nearby cat gets closer. If the mother bird refuses to return, he could call a licensed wild bird rehabilitator for them to use an incubator (providing the proper temperature, humidity, ventilation), where he would turn the eggs five times every 24 hours in order to prevent the risks of embryo death and unhealthy hatches. He proceeds to walk down the street along with his buddy, then Julia approaches them.

Angelo says, “Right behind you is your date, Julia Paramount. Julia, this is Sean Rochester. You’re both the same age. You both have a Christian background. Julia from the region of Dalmatia in Western Croatia. She is an art collector, who owns a cassowary. My guy, Sean is from the Flower City. He is a future multi-millionaire and has over a hundred and thirty college scholarships. He doesn’t like to brag, so I do the braggin’ for him.”

Sean looks at Julia, who looks like a portrait painting that was brought to life. She has the opulent aroma of a distinct cinnamon, so perfect that someone who abhors cinnamon, would love the smell. He shakes her hand and finally speaks.

He says, “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise,” she says, giving a warm, genuine, and expressive smile with perfect, white teeth.

Angelo says, “My work here is done. I’ll catch up with you two later. I have some errands to run.”

Sean says, “Catch ya later.”

Julia says, “Later.”

“Cassowaries are one of the world’s most dangerous birds, descended from dinosaur ancestors.”

“All birds are descended from dinosaurs. The closest relative of cassowaries are emus and they are similar to velociraptors. Cassowaries are flightless birds that can stand as high as six feet and weight a buck sixty. Their powerful legs can propel them at great speeds, jump high up to seven feet in the air, and deliver kicks with their four-inch long dagger-like claws, but don’t worry. Madam is tamed. Madam would love your company,” she removes her sunglasses, folds them, then hangs them on the top section of her dress.

Sean removes his sunglasses and can barely resist how stunning Julia Paramount looks. She cannot be a real human being because she makes him more comfortable than a bed tester and ice cream taster, but she is. She is not an object that was found in a safe deposit box, but better than any stationary and moving object.

The ravishing Julia makes him so nervous that he could urinate on the jeans that he is wearing with as much liquid as a leaking faucet. He could watch her like serial numbers on guns and bullets, but cannot be objectified. He cannot risk staring at her or even her, who owns the world’s most dangerous bird could find him undeniably creepy. The situation could be as messy as a food fight in a limousine, but he is willing to see if things work.

“I smell cologne,” she says.

“I knew I put on too much.”

“No. It smells marvelous.”

When Sean removes his baseball cap, Julia says, “Take a ride in my car. Let’s continue this conversation. I’m going to take you to Arbor Breeze Gardens. It’s three hundred and thirty-five acre-park of prairie, forest and habitat, including a walking trail.”

When Julia points at her red pickup truck, birds in the sky make a V-formation as Sean says, “Nice truck.”

“Thank you.”

He walks beside her to the driver’s seat. She reveals to him her car keys. An expression like he is the epitome of errors nearly shows on his face, but he laughs about the incident.

Then, she says, “Only a gentleman would walk a woman to her car when she has the car key.”

“Forgive me.”

“Forgiven,” she says with an ethereal voice of wealth and status.

Across the street, a stranger (with a toothpick in his mouth, a black denim jacket, blue jeans, and black shoes) is selling narcotics to a zombielike woman, wearing tattered clothes. The woman glances in the direction of an ambitious Sean, then sideways. She then pays for a pound of weed and steals the drug dealer’s handgun, disengaging it from safety mode. Afterwards, she shoots at the drug dealer as he runs for his life.

The high-stress environment makes Julia say, “Is it always like this here?”

“Don’t worry them. It’s legal to use every drug in the world around here. How long have you known Angelo,” he says as he walks to open a side door and enter the passenger’s seat of the vehicle.

“About a year. Speaking of Angelo. He mentioned that you have a hundred and thirty college scholarships. You’re not gonna just let that slide. Tell me about being intellectually curious. Which college have you decided to go to,” she says while stepping into the driver’s seat, as a few pedestrians stop by to take pictures of them (with their own cell phones) from a distance.

She puts on a seat belt, inserts the key to the ignition, puts her gearstick in “N” for the neutral position, rotates the ignition key pass two stops and pushes against a spring-loaded third and final stop to start the pickup truck and releases the key. She drives the pickup truck down the road and during the drive, aesthetic building from miles away explodes. Smoke and debris surround the area. A fire alarm is buzzing. Countless car alarms are wailing and the terrorist attack is not treated like Mount Vesuvius erupting, but treated like an everyday activity by the civilians outside.

Chapter 8:

Arbor Breeze Gardens

Drought-tolerant plants like the coneflower, lantana, Russian sage, and the cactus are visible in the alluring public garden. Down the walking trail, there are giant pandas roaming around in the bamboo groves and looking upward, there’s a dome-shaped roof. Butterflies are flying around the place and an expansive pavilion is two feet away, visible from a see-through sash window. Climbing rose arbors lead the way to a waterfall, approximately a mile behind the pavilion. And the moment should not be forgotten since Sean is busy taking pictures of the scenery with his black cell phone.

“Thank you for your valuable input. You have your education, can build houses, and is interested in fashion. Boy, you have a hundred and thirty options and counting to go to college and you’re thinking about fashion?”

While walking with her, Sean says, “I have one hundred and thirty options and counting and am still chasing my dreams.”

A soothing ambience is in the public garden as they travel, seeing over 200 different species of the most decorative and botanically stimulating palm trees. The refreshing breeze caresses their skin, then the mist crowds the area. Julia cannot help but to be amused by blue the eye-catching orchids.

“Look at the orchids,” Julia says.

“Let me take a picture of you with the orchids.”

Julia poses in front of the blue orchids, then Sean takes a picture of her photogenic self with his cell phone. He takes three extra pictures as she poses more. Afterwards, he says, “You look almost as stunning as me,” shows her the pictures that he took of her.

Julia responds, “Don’t flatter me.”

Sean asks for her phone number in order to send her the pictures. She actually puts her phone number into his cell phone. The date is going awkwardly awesome so far.

Julia says, “Let me see you walk like a model.”

“I’m a little rusty,” he says.

“Come on,” she says.

Sean, who is conscious about how he looks, performs a catwalk with ease. The walk impresses Julia. Before she can give him a compliment, trouble occurs.

Where the bamboo groves are, there is a man (wearing a red banana around black dreadlocks, an overlarge white t-shirt, black jeans, and red tennis shoes), saying to a police officer, “You need permission to own guns from the very people wearing a badge allowed to shoot you.”

“It’s your our own people doin’ all the shootin’. I know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. My father’s a drill sergeant. If you were to break into my house where my wife and four children live, then I call you out of your name, you’d sue me. You’d call me a racist because it’s a politically correct world, but you best to believe I’m pullin’ that trigger before you sue me,” the police officer says.

Someone recording the incident on their cell phone, says, “It’s the criminals. Evil is evil.”

The gang member draws out his gun with an ergonomic grip, then shoots the police officer twice. Many people scream and run. Then, the gang member aims at the person recording. Sean and Julia hide in the bushes, so the gang member notices no witnesses that are alive. Bugs are in the bushes and some crawl on their skin. They hear more gunshots.

Sean looks through the bushes and sees that the gang member has his back turned, then whispers to Julia, “Wait right here.”

Julia says, “Stay here.”

Sean sneaks out of the bushes and tackles the gunman to the ground like a starving quarterback, desperate to earn a living. The gun flies in the air and the criminal’s face smacks against the concrete ground. Sean then kicks the defenseless person twice in the ribs, kicks the gun further away, and returns back to the bushes where Julia is hiding.

He says, “It’s time to go.”

Sean grabs Julia’s hand while she rushes out of the bushes. They both run out of the public garden. Thus, they return to the pickup truck to get inside.

When Julia drives, she says, “You’ve could’ve gotten wasted. Don’t ever do anything like that again.”

“I had to…”

Angelo calls Sean, interrupting his conversation.

Sean picks up his cell phone and answers it, “I’m kind of busy right now.”

Angelo says, “Bruh. What do you say about taking a ride with me like old times?”

“I already made plans with Julia to go to the movies.”

“We can all kick it. It can be the three of us. Is that your pickup truck across the street, bruh. It is you,” Sean sights as Angelo says, “Bruh. Let me in the truck. Im drivin’.”

The subject of owning a gun is stuck in Sean’s mind, but he is confused if he actually wants to be a gun owner. He also has to pretend like the event the recently took place could not have had any control over his life.

What if owning a gun could help you with shooting a criminal who is trying to break into your home? What if owning a gun could protect you and your immediate family? What if you can legally defend someone else that is about to get raped by owning a gun?

Owning a gun could also cause someone in the household to misuse it. Maybe they’d use the firearm on themself out of rage or depression or use it for revenge on a person. It could be that they may go on a rampage with the firearm or play with the it, pointing it at places they do not plan to shoot at. The fired weapon can miss a person, can graze the skin, can launch in the pressure points, causing blood to wander, then coagulated blood, or worse.

5 Minutes Later

Angelo’s is in the driver’s seat with his window halfway down to enjoy the fresh air and drives a red pickup truck. In the back of the pickup truck is Sean and Julia, sitting cross-legged. Julia has a violin that she is playing and though there is picturesque view of a purple sky over mountains in the background, he gazes into her pristine eyes. Seemingly, he found a hard-to-find love.

Although Sean suffers from musical anhedonia, knowing the woman in front of him forces him to appreciate it. He learns that his all-natural girlfriend is a synesthete, who can (see sounds and hear colors). While the both slump down against on the back window of the pickup truck, she rests the side of her head on his neck. They are staring in the opposite direction that the pickup truck is driving.

Across the street, there are a group of people playing basketball on a basketball court. A couple is kissing in the shade, near a bench with two trays of lunch on it. It feels like 110 degrees Fahrenheit and several pedestrians fell out from overheating, but it could feel so hot because of how hot Julia looks.

Angelo says while driving, “My father-in-law has two jobs. He’s a bank teller and a market research analyst for Batter Dales, the toy sports company. Whenever I asked him a question, he would answer it with a question. Once, I asked him what’s the difference between a rep and a set? He responded, what’s the difference between a clip and a magazine? If he asked me a question and I answered it with a question, he would go bananas. How are you going to get a job talking like that?”

Wanting to be as loyal as a Dalmatian, Sean says, “What time does the show start?”

The sophisticated Julia says, “In ten minutes. Angelo is full of himself. That’s what makes him, him. When we’re in the movie theater, I want you to sit next to me.”

Angelo continues to talk, “Or maybe all of this happening is a sign that God does not want you two to be together. Maybe it’s faith. That’s what I said. I had to say somethin’, bruh. I remember that I even told freak accidents happen all of the time. I said to him, your cousin Darnell. You remember him? Ten years ago, on like two days before Thanksgiving, he brought a gun to his mothers house. He was a selling guns and who knows what else, but got involved with the wrong people. But on Thanksgiving, he sat in the living room with your mother and your mother can tell you. Nobody knew that he was strapped. The gun he owned had an extended clip. Tracy, your mother’s ex boyfriend comes through the front door with a large Siberian husky. The dog jump on Darnell’s lap, then the gun goes off, shooting Darnell in the leg. Don’t be like Darnell. He didn’t learn his lesson. Selling guns to others, then someone who buys a gun from him shoots another person out of revenge. The police came knocking on his door. A month or so after that, he gets shot and is paralyzed from the waist down. Don’t be like Darnell. We made it to the movies. The popcorn is on me.”

“Angelo. On any other day, that would be amazing. The food and drinks are on me.”

Angelo says with laughter, “You mean that, bruh. I’m gettin’ popcorn, pepperoni pizza, nachos, and some snacks, and a smoothie with free refills to wash it all down. Around Sean, I never had to wear a sports jacket to a suit event.”

“You want anything, Julia,” Sean says.

Julia says, “No, thank you. I have what I want sitting here right now.”

“I have enough money to get you…”

Angelo interrupts, saying, “Bruh. It’s all good. I’ll pay for it. Sean ain’t the only one sittin’ here.”

Julia says, “No worries. I can pay…”

Angelo interrupts saying, “The lady isn’t paying for nothing. You got this one, Sean.”

With a mellow voice, Julia boldly says, “Sean and I can share popcorn.”

Eventually, Sean pays for the movie tickets and the food and drinks. The trio make their way into auditorium number 5. Other than the candy that is in his pockets and a frozen blueberry smoothie that is in his left hand, every product that Angelo demanded in the pickup truck earlier, he is balancing on a closed pizza box, with his right hand. Sean is holding a large bucket of buttery and salted popcorn, mozzarella sticks, two hotdogs, cheese fries, chocolate ice cream, and a banana smoothie. Julia is holding a bag of organic corn chips, roasted salmon salad, and pomegranate juice.

In the auditorium, there are 20 hand-carved, hand-stained, solid wood base, brown leather recliner chairs with an ottoman going across the dark room and approximately 40 rows. Sean and Julia follow Angelo into the darkness. While Sean is walking to a chair in the middle row with Julia, an anonymous woman is facing him with her right elbow on the cushion and her right palm on her cheek, “Hey, Sean.”

Sean whispers, “I have a following online. I do modeling.”

“Sign me after the show,” the lady says, then the trio sits in the back row.

Sean says, “Take it easy.”

Multiple people in the auditorium turn around to take pictures of Sean with their cell phone. Sean tries to relax with his arm around his girlfriend’s neck. The struggle to watch the movie for how many people take even take selfies of Sean and Julia. Some people scream, “Julia Paramount” “Julia,” “Sean!”

Part of Sean thinks about exiting the movie theater. The other part of him is glad that he has a famous girlfriend because she understands what it’s like to receive constant attention. Julia seems capable of detecting his innermost frailties, but he still tries to communicate to her. He imagines living off the grid with her for a moment, then notices her hand dig into his bucket of popcorn.

If one of his fans sees him in public, they could just text someone about it, then their friends could be waiting on him in a vehicle to exit the movie theater. Thus, they can plan to execute him and possibly his loved ones by shooting at him or following them wherever they drive. Fans already noticed them.

Since Sean does not want to be paranoid, he continues to watch the movie, but gets distracted for a moment, fantasizing about a calcium-enriched kiss from Julia. While he fantasizes, Angelo is overwhelmed about what food to eat first. Afterwards, Sean overthinks, says, “Let’s get up out of here,” then they rush out of the theater.

Chapter 9:

Julia’s Juice Ranch

It is Saturday at 5:00 A.M. Sean wears a pristine, olive, cashmere sports jacket with gold, bullet back cufflinks, medium gray, recycled wool trousers, and green, leather dress shoes. A bouquet of orchids is in his right hand and he can only hope that the orchids will overshadow the plants that Julia already owns. She already has grape vines near her outdoor garage, where there are a variety of luxury vehicles. The front yard has a multitude of strawberry trees, mulberry trees, cherry trees, apple trees, orange trees, banana trees, lemon trees, and sundries.

Angelo is behind Sean (wearing bluish green, tinted sunglasses, a black, hooded sweatshirt, grey jogging pants, and yellow shoes). Behind Angelo, Madam, Julia’s pet cassowary appears.

Angelo says, “There’s no way I hooked you up with a woman living here.”

“We did make it pass the gates,” Sean says, then quickly puts a a breath mint in his mouth.

Madam produces a low frequency booming call. Sean and Angelo panic, turning around, then Sean says, “Don’t tell me she left her cassowary outside.” “Just ring the bell,” Angelo says. The cassowary then hisses and whistles, moving forward. As much as Sean thinks about not making any sudden movements, he does.

The durable, galvanized steel door has a 180-degree peephole. Sean rings the doorbell to the mansion, hoping he can once again see her pristine, green eyes. Green eyes are considered the rarest eye color in the world and they’re on Julia. It’s fabulous that he did not live in Alaska and met Julia via online dating. Long distance relationships should involve the expectancy of receiving a break up text because more people would rather text than call.

Most importantly, Sean wants to get away from Madam, who may attack him and his friend. The front door opens and Julia wears black, curly, sleek, and wispy bangs, her red, tinted sunglasses from her purple t-shirt, a white, crop denim jacket over the t-shirt, a red, leather handbag, a black, snazzy belt, blue skinny jeans, and black tennis shoes.

Julia says, “Sean. Angelo.”

Sean and Angelo say at the same time, “Hey Julia.”

After hugging them, Julia says, “Come on in. Don’t worry about Madam. She won’t harm anyone… when I’m around. She loves the environment where she can munch on the fresh fruits.”

Sean follows Julia in the mansion, then Angelo steps inside to shut the front door. He locks the door. When Angelo turns around, he notices that Julia and Sean are gazing into each others eyes, under a silver, 12-light chandelier (with cut crystal pendants on the wicks and crystal dagger perched above twisted branches hanging). It has a chrome plating and solid brass frame, with a 24 karat gold finish.

“You got the camera ready?”

Julia sits her handbag down on the white, leather, sectional sofa in front of a white flat-screen television mounted on the wall, saying, “I can’t forget the camera. Excuse me for a moment while I grab the camera,” then rushes into her room, sliding from the white macaubas stone on the floor.

Angelo says, “What I tell you? She’s bangin’.”

“I had to see it for myself.”

Julia returns with a professional camera and a black tripod and says, “Out of the way Angelo.”

Angelo steps out of the way of the camera, then says, “I’ll run when Madam runs out. Thank you very much.”

Julia says, “In three… two… one… action.”

She presses the record button.

Sean smoothly walks to the sofa, saying, “On a windy day like this, I like to try some of Julia’s hot chocolate at Julia’s Juice Ranch because…”

Julia says, “Cut. You’re on fleek. Since you brought up that it’s a windy day, we should film this scene on the balcony.”

Sean lifts his buttocks from the sofa as he picks up the mug of hot chocolate, then passes the pristine kitchen. To vertiginous heights, he walks up the bifurcated stairs in awe everywhere that he glances, seeing fine oil paintings on the walls. Parts of the mansion looks like a private museum. The handrails have carved designs on them and on the outer side of the stairs, a waterfall forms into a swimming pool section, nearby a hallway.

Julia follows him up the stairs with the camera and tripod as he says, “I would get tired walking up these stairs every day.”

The mansion is large enough to be a hiding place for anyone that wanted privacy for days.

“That’s what I have elevators for. My mansion is so large, I never used my own elevators before. My guests used it. This was my parents mansion. They’re always commuting, so they put it under my name. Right now, they’re on a private island in Belize. My father is a wealth planner and car salesman and my mother is an estate manager and landscape architect. They got together and out popped me.”

Angelo remains downstairs, saying, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Thank God,” Sean says.

Julia says, “Ask for anything you like! Amy is are housekeeper cook! She has a Bachelor’s in Culinary Arts at Bake Belly University!”

Angelo says, “I have to come here more often. You got it made, girl!”

They pass more fine paintings and a pocket door that leads into a separate room, where there is a state-of-the-art gym. A door on the right side of the gym leads to an area that has every video game imaginable with a silver gaming chair sitting in front of a black desktop and a silver flat-screen television mounted on the wall. The following room to the right has ever comic book and graphic novel imaginable and further to the right, there is a computer software that has every movie imaginable on it. If he was to walk further down, he would notice the largest toy collection imaginable.

Julia has white blinds covering a bullet-proof window in the guest room. This could mean that there is a bullet-proof vest with guns and ammunition somewhere in the mansion. A wooden television art frame is around her white, flat-screen television that is mounted on the wall. She has a trundle bed with beige pillow cases over soft pillows and beige bedsheets. Near the guest room door, there is an antique painting in a white, wooden frame. The painting is hanging over a white and gold treasure chest, which is above a white, mahogany dresser.

She has a button that she can press underneath the air conditioner, which allows access to a secret passageway (disguised as a regular mirror, but it’s a two-way mirror) near her closet. When she presses the button, the gloomy, secret passageway opens, revealing curved stairs. There are veneered walls with several fine oil paintings that will appreciate in value, mounted on them. The polished stairs and handrails are masterfully carved. On the outer side of the stairs, there’s a waterfall, which pours down into a swimming pool (near an antique sculpture of a dolphin encased in a circular glass, on the floor).

He opens up a sliding door. When they make their way on the balcony from a guest bedroom, Julia presses the record button.

Sean declutters his mind, then stares into the forest (that has sugar maple trees, red maple trees, black maple trees, and silver maple trees for making syrup) where various horses (like Haflingers, Gypsy horses, and Marwari horses) are trotting. The trees surround a clear body of water with an earth-toned, lime-washed grained wood and finished stone superyacht that has full-length windows on three sides, revealing panoramic views. There is already a population of approximately 200 civilians on the superyacht and everyone’s mind is in overdrive. The superyacht has 18 10-star restaurants, bars, and cafes. It has a lounge, daybed and sunbathing around a swimming pool on the lower deck and bedroom suites, as well as a volleyball set and skating rink on the upper deck in it. With such a superyacht, it should not be complicated to find a bathroom. Behind the body of water, there are black sliding gates. He takes another sip of coffee.

Then Sean says while walking, “On a windy day like this, I like to try some of Julia’s Hot Chocolate at Julia’s Juice Ranch because it’s the best chocolate on the house… for first time customers. After you taste the distinct richness, layer upon layer, it’s time to hand over those ducats. There’s only one place where you can get Julia’s Hot Chocolate and that’s at Julia’s Juice Ranch.”

He sits down on a brown chaise lounge. The breeze caresses his skin. So high up in the sky, the slightest sound of a barking dog sounds like complete nothingness.

Julia stops recording, then says, “Cut. That was a riveting take.

The camera is resting on the tripod. She ejects the sd card from the sd card slot in the professional camera, transfers the sd card to her white laptop, sitting on the guess room table, downloads it, edits it with video editing software, then uploads it on Sean’s social media pages that he gives her. Almost instantly, he goes from having no likes on his video to 200,000 likes and 2,002 followers to 50,000 followers.

A face of unbelief is on Sean Rochester’s face. He gleefully runs across the room, then lightly rests on the trundle bed, dramatically.

Julia heads into a walk-in closet full of high-end ready-to wear clothes and footwear galore, saying, “If you need anything, push this button and Amy will be at your service,” walking out with a remote device.

There is a large, galvanized steel vault (reinforced by granite walls) inside of her walk-in closet and any stranger can only imagine that there are valuable items inside. There is far over 400,000 bars of gold inside, 2,000,000 carats of turquoise grandidierite, 250,000,000 carats of cyan grandidierite, 4,000,000 carats of bluish green grandidierite, and 5,000,000 carats of diamonds, including a suitcase full of $10,000,000 and five bronze buckets full of rare coins and bills.

Sean accepts the device. His girlfriend owns a lucrative company called Julia’s Juice Ranch, he is gaining popularity, and thinks he is falling in love. He grows feelings for her other swiftly, but does not want to say “I love you” within such a short time of knowing her.

What is the difference between someone saying the three words, “I love you” and someone else saying the words, “I think about about you, then I thought about you thinking about me. That blew my mind away and you didn’t have to say anything” to the same woman? The woman indeed has the choice to ignore someone putting forth a creative effort to impress her. A creative effort can be to remind her that he is thinking about her.

In general, many women are attracted to confidence and not arrogance. Thousands of women prefer confidence and creativity from a partner. She’s not most women, but a woman who deserves the best option. Such thoughts makes him want to constantly be expressively creative, instead of playing it safe by relaxing in a relationship. He has to overwork by spicing up the relationship that just ignited and work harder when he retires from his modeling career, after growing grey hairs.

The moment he presses the device, Amy (a blond with sleek, and straight hair, a blue smock dress with a gold name badge on the right top section, and white slip-resistant shoes) walks into the room, saying, “Good morning, Julia. How may I accommodate you and your company?”

“Good morning Amy,” Julia says.

“I was just testing to see if the button works. I don’t need anything,” Sean says.

Julia says, “While you’re here, bring my camera and tripod inside and hand Angelo a device on the first floor.”

“I’d love to,” she says, bringing in the camera and tripod inside of the guest room and closing the sliding door.

Julia heads to the bathroom. In the bathroom, there is an antique, polished tub and a bronze toilet and bronze toilet paper holder with backdrops of white macaubas stone walls. Not too far from the toilet, there is the sink made out of white macaubas stone and across from the sink, there is a brass, mounted towel rack with 10 pristine, white towels hanging on them. Beside the steam shower, there is a shower room with two rainfall shower heads, two high level shower heads, and four sprayers on each side, with a built-in mirror on the door of the shower. While she is in the bathroom, downstairs, Angelo is in a separate bathroom, staring at a sauna.

When Julia exits the bathroom, she is wearing her denim jacket over a black maxi dress. She tells her boyfriend to press the record button and moves out of the camera shot. Sean properly ejects the sd card from the laptop, places it in the sd card slot in the professional camera, then presses the record button.

Sean steps into the camera and sits on the bed, saying, “It’s Sean Rochester, giving you your daily fashion tips. Newcomers finding out about my channel can smack that subscribe button down below, so that I can pop up in your notifications. I’ve made it to Julia’s Juice Ranch and if you’ve not seen in a recent video, I’ve tasted the delicious Julia’s hot chocolate…”

Julia walks by and unexpectedly sits on his lap, then she says, “This is Julia Paramount on the ranch. The rumors are true. I’m dating Sean Rochester.”

“And I’m dating Julia because she’s, smashing, sweet, sophisticated, skillful, sassy, sexy, and all of that good stuff. She’s all-natural and when we first met, it’s like we were made for each other. As long as my Julia is around, as far as the fashion industry is concerned, there are no more job-killing robots walking the runway.”

“Bye,” Julia says.

She rises up and presses the stop button on the professional camera. Julia, the woman as mysterious as a private library, opens herself up to Sean in ways that he did not expect. The sensational feeling feels so right, he wants to arrive at her mansion fifteen minutes early daily, if he cannot arrive any time he like.

With Julia, he does not feel like he is competing with other men. Sean wants to be full of surprises, like she is the author at a book signing event, then he surprises her by standing in a line full of loyal fans, just to propose.

After Sean presses the button on the remote device, he allows Amy to take several pictures of him and his girlfriend with the professional camera. In one picture, Sean has his head leaning on Julia Paramount’s neck while she is smiling, in another, she has her arms covering his waist, and in the most eye-catching picture, they are kissing. They pose for additional pictures by, then upload the content on their social media pages.

Sean is an instant celebrity, having over 3,000,000 followers and counting on the same social media page that he uploaded the video on. Julia has 250,000,000 followers and counting.

“I have to get going. I’m supposed to go see my grandma tonight even though I’m not too hot with Easter.”

“Can I come along? You’re not going to leave me in this huge mansion by myself, are you?”

He says, “I’ll think about it. Of course you can come, but I’m not sure how they’ll react.”

Sean is still the 18-year-old struggling to get a decent job. Modeling on social media can give him a lot of money, but his family does not share the same views. The last thing he is trying to do is to reveal to his family that he is dating a wealthy celebrity. Only if he can have everyone treat her like she is normal, the night may go well.

Chapter 10:

Millewood’s Ice Castle

On the outside appearance, Julia is wearing a brown, leather trapper hat, a green shearling coat with brown fur on the hood, a white scarf, black winter gloves, tight blue jeans with black, leather, knee-high boots. It is so cold that if she wears sunglasses, the lenses would only get fogged up. Beside her, Sean can be seen wearing a black beanie, a grey, suede parka coat, black jeans, and grey, custom-made winter boots with an animated version of his face on the sides. Behind them, Angelo is wearing a black beanie over red headphones, a red down coat with a hood, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes.

They make their way to a large snow castle with Mr. Rochester looking halfway outside. Mr. Rochester (wearing a blue parka coat with a hood, a black beanie, a black scarf, black and blue, cotton gloves, black jeans, and yellow hiking boots) calls Mrs. Rochester, “Sean arrived!” Mrs. Rochester (wearing a black beanie, green parka coat, black, cotton gloves, blue jeans, and black winter boots) takes a look, then Uncle Larry, an auto mechanic (wearing a black beanie, brown, wool pea coat, white, leather gloves, blue jeans, and brown winter boots) looks with a smile on his face. A 16-year-old brunette named Nia (with a black ponytail, a blue parka coat and a hood, black gloves, yellow jeans, and blue tennis shoes) throws several snowballs at the arriving trio.

The trio throws a flurry of snowballs in return, causing the family members inside of the castle eating to be visited by an unexpected occurrence. Larry picks up snowballs, then throw them back. The moment the trio arrive in the castle, they all stop throwing. Many of them greet and hug Sean and Angelo while Julia receive greets and few handshakes.

Mr. Rochester complains, “Don’t be throwin’ snowballs. That’s how Uncle Larry loss half his vision today. Someone picked up a snowball with ice in it and through it at him.”

Mrs. Rochester says, “You should know better than that.”

Mr. Rochester says, “Freak accidents.”

Larry says, “So I’m supposed to just let them throw snowballs at me?”

Mr. Rochester says, “Stop talkin’. It’s cold. Let’s eat. I know about your friend, Angelo. Who is the woman you brought with you, Sean.”

Julia extends her hand out, saying, “You must be Sean’s father. I’m Sean’s girlfriend, Julia.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend. How long have you two been dating?”

Mrs. Rochester says, “Let the couple enjoy their time. They just made it here.”

Angelo says, “Meet you at the cold table.”

“All of the tables are cold,” Sean says, “We’ve been seeing each other for two days. So this is what you’ve been doing while you were supposed to be searching for a job to get up out my house? Two days. Two days. Today, you two are done! Coming up in here takin’ some Vegas chick and showin’ her to the family after only two days! I ain’t showed your momma to my family in four years!”

Mrs. Rochester says, “Sit down and eat. You’re embarrassing them.”

Sean says, “Let’s have something to eat.”

Julia says, “I think I should be…”

Sean says, “I told you that this could happen. Stay in this with me.”

The trio is holding kitchen the kitchen utensils of a plastic spoon, fork, and knife. Julia holds his hand, then they grab a paper plate of food to eat. On Julia’s plate, there is neck bones, collard greens, macaroni and cheese, cornbread, barbecue chicken, and dressing. She has a strawberry-flavored soda on the side. Sean has fried catfish, neck bones, baked chicken, collard greens, cornbread, and macaroni and cheese on his plate with a lime-flavored soda. On Angelo’s plate is macaroni and cheese, dressing, baked chicken, barbecue chicken, collard greens, neck bones, red beans, buttermilk biscuits, cornbread, and fried catfish, with a lime-flavored soda on the side.

They are in a snow castle with four tables made out of ice going across the room in 12 rows. There is a centerpiece of candles made out of ice on each table and the chairs are made out of guibourtia wood. Nia offers them mugs of hot chocolate, then lightly smacks Sean in the back of the head.

“I don’t want any…”

Mrs. Rochester says, “Drink the chocolate.”

Mr. Rochester says while sitting down, “Tell me. What do you do for a living. What type of woman would want to date a jobless son like mine?”

Sean says, “Dad. That’s enough.”

Julia says, “Everything your son wants from me, he can have. He’s a brilliant man.”

Like a dad that neither wants his child to fail nor succeed, Mr. Rochester says, “And what does an eighteen year-old boy wants with a chick like this. Are you two gonna get married?”

Sean says, “How did your parents act when you showed mom to them?”

Mrs. Rochester says, “They didn’t say a word.”

Enunciating his words, Sean says, “And that’s what I want you all to do now!”

Mr. Rochester says, “Or what? You can’t afford to leave. Some woman you met two days ago is gonna take you in? She’s your age.”

Angelo says, “Chill bruh. Your pops is trippin’ again. Your son has a hundred and thirty scholarships. I ain’t got none!”

Mr. Rochester says, “Just don’t slip on that ice.”

Uncle Larry says, “Let’s all just enjoy the family. I’ve not seen you in years, Sean. How old are you,” but trying to reason with Mr. Rochester is like the equivalent of being punched in the face.

Sean says, “You’re never proud of me. I’m eighteen and I’m going to college. I’m going to have a good paying job, a good wife, and maybe some children that you aren’t invited to see.”

Mr. Rochester says, “You aren’t welcomed in my house anymore, grown man.”

Nia says, “You don’t know who Julia Paramount is? She’s a famous fashion blogger. You should look up her latest video. You two would be in for a huge surprise. She’s worth a fortune.”

“Your son is staying at my place for now on,” Julia says.

Surprised, Sean looks at her, then feels a sense of warmth in the cold weather. Angelo returns back to take a bite out of some of his food, then grabs the plate of food and a lime-flavored soda. Angelo waves to everyone.

“It’s time for us to bounce,” Sean says, then rises up with his girlfriend to walk away from the event without saying a word.

Chapter 11:

She Wants To Be Friends

Julia (wearing a black swimsuit) is in a swimming pool downstairs with Sean (who is wearing blue swimming trunks). His cell phone rings and there is approximately 20 voicemail messages from mainly his dad asking for forgiveness, only to bring up in a few of the messages that his girlfriend is wealthy.

“I’m not responding to them. I’m glad you accept me for me.”

“There’s something that I should tell you,” she says.

“What could that be?”

“Which ever college you’re going to, I’m going to as well. I may not have enough brains as you, but I have enough money to get into the top schools. Don’t be surprised if I show up.”

“I wouldn’t mind the company.”

“I trust you. You can go to college on your own. My mansion is your mansion now. What’s mine is yours.

Sean says, “I’m so happy I have you in my life.”

“Let all your things be done with charity. First Corinthians chapter sixteen. Verse fourteen.”

“Amen.”

They kiss each other in the swimming pool, then Amy watches them from the top of the bifurcated stairs.

Everything seems promising and perfect fast. Sean and Julia go to a new church together, study together, eat together, exercise together, make digital content together, and sleep in the same bed together, even though they have a mansion large enough to sleep in multiple places. They even take online college courses together. It is almost as if Julia has an obsession with him, but she can have any man that her heart desires.

They even travel across the world together, whether it’s India, Germany, Brazil, Italy, Mexico, Columbia, Ghana, etc. Where they travel, they surely take pictures and record videos of their adventures for their online fame. The couple travel to the Jordan River where Jesus Christ was baptized by John the Baptist, which is located in the Middle East and ends in the Dead Sea. They eat at a fancy restaurant, where an artist is painting a portrait of them eating.

Not too far from the restaurant, a narrow, wooden footbridge is suspended 2,000 feet above sea level and is 580 meters long. The footbridge extends from from Crane Chest Valley to Ice Canoe over the Lost Canoe River (which has a turquoise color with swift, unpredictable currents). Together, the couple walk half of the way across the bridge with a cameraman, share a passionate kiss, then finish walking across.

Everywhere they go, civilians recognize them as a power couple and want them for their financial stability. Their heart is so good, that Sam Harper (wearing black braids, a black tuxedo, black dressing pants, and black shoes) who was an impoverished person they can hold a decent conversation with on the street, gets allowed to live in their mansion.

The conversation goes like this:

Sam, who smells like he owns over 500 different fragrances outside, says, “Sir. Can I get a dollar. Any amount of change can make a difference. I’m homeless,” then he puts on his glasses to say, “Hey. I know you. I know who you are. Sean Rochester. Julia Paramount. You have to help me.”

Julia (wearing a chiffon, green, ruffled waist dress and black slip-on shoes, made out of canvas) is holding Sean’s hand. Sean (wearing a black turtleneck, dark blue jeans, and leather ankle boots the color of coffee beans) reaches in his back right pocket to grab his wallet, then hands Sam $500. Numerous civilians recognize the famous couple, then rush toward the area, shouting to take pictures together and get autographs.

Julia waves her hand to the crowd with a picture-perfect smile and the men cheer louder. The crowd takes a multitude of pictures of the couple with their cell phones, then news reporters from various news stations arrive to the destination in front of cameramen asking the couple nonstop questions. Someone screams, “It’s the King of Flower City,” then Sean says, “I’m not the king of anything. Jesus is King.” Her suave boyfriend who feels like he’s being interrogated for just heading outside decides to wave at his fans. The women cheer louder. Some members of the crowd are focus more on the generous activity that the couple partake in.

Sam says, “Thank you, sir. God bless you. Many people see me on the streets and just walk pass me like I’m inferior. I know that I haven’t had the money for a dictionary in a while, that but I’m not grammatically incorrect when I say that I’m a human, too.”

Julia says, “Tell me your story. Why are you homeless.”

Sam says, “Two years ago, I created three different fashion websites. One out of three of them became successful. Users of the website could get real-time fashion advice from industry experts. The service had a free week trial and five dollars a month for a week membership. Fashion experts would give you suggestions on fashionable clothing, footwear, accessories, and cosmetic products to wear for self-expression. If your goal is to be on runways, you would’ve had industry knowledge from active professionals. I wanted to dismantle the stigma of having to look like supermodels, but at the same time, have supermodels give their real-time input to paid viewers. They could’ve sent the fashion models an hour-long time worth of messages for ten dollars, and an hour-long video chat for just twenty dollars. The prices and time time arrangements can be negotiated between you and the industry experts. And if you talk to one of the models long enough, you could’ve made a friend. Stories like that happened before. I used to live paycheck to paycheck with being a web designer, then competitive websites arrived. IRS comes asking for money, family comes asking for money, and women that I never hooked up with comes asking for money. My life is a wreck.”

Sean says, “What’s the name of your website?”

“I got something for you dot com. It brought in one hundred and fifty thousand viewers per week. I no longer own my website. Someone else bought the rights to my website. I had to sell it to survive. If I kept full managing rights to my website, it would’ve failed because I loss traffic and had to pay the bills and if I sold my website, that was all that I worked for. It was a double bind.”

Sean and Julia glance at each other after hearing his dilemma, then Julia reaches in her brown, leather handbag to give Sam $500. He wonders if Sam has ample time to talk, but does not want to make any assumptions.

Sam is in shock as Sean says, “Let’s finish this conversation in the car. Do you have time?”

Sam sees Sean’s expensive, blue sports car and says, “I have all the time in the world, buddy” because the last thing he wants to do is get into a fallacious argument, when he is trying to survive.

At least Sam knows what it’s like to live in a large mansion until he maintained a good paying job, on top of $50,000 to restart his life. Rejoicing exceedingly, he does not have to habitually question why a couple would be so helpful to him, but he does. Why would someone not want to be a cheapskate and give money to a homeless person?

A couple that can treat the homeless with respect is already rich. Sean can trust his girlfriend around Angelo, Sam, and any other living organism. His girlfriend can trust Sean around the housekeeper Amy.

The couple refuses to record the good deeds that they do. Instead of Sam turning into a serial killer, he pursues a career in web design and software development, then moves to Huntington Beach, California.

For the moment, the best thing Sean could’ve done was get out of the friend zone, which is his comfort zone. The great part about proposing with Julia on a superyacht is that she already has a mother’s intuition being able to know when Sam was in danger or to know when he was shouting in a jam-packed crowd.

The green-eyed beauty holds Sean’s hands and gazes into his eyes. Being his partner, she knows the words that he is going to say before he says them and they propose speechlessly with their eyes. She nods her head in a celebratory fashion.

In about 3 months, Sean (wearing a white dress shirt under a velvet, navy blue, paisley jacket, a navy blue bow, silver bullet back cufflinks, and leather dress shoes that are tan) and Julia (wearing a silk, a-line dress with beaded stones, and embellished straps beaded on the back section) say their wedding vows. Sean feels like the first person to create business suits, redefining history. Some attendees are Angelo, Sam, and Amy. The irony is that while Julia saw Sean’s family, it takes 3 months to see her family.

After Julia says the indelible words “I do” on the special occasion, her partner says the same. While her parents via video chat, with smiles wrapped on they’re the most serious faces. Finally, the couple kiss one another.

Later, at their mansion, Julia still has on her beautiful wedding dress over a black, laced bra and black pantyhose. She undresses him until he is shirtless on the bed (made out of memory foam), in a supine position. A gentle touch of a light and soft feather comes in contact with his chiseled abs, producing a tickling sensation.

Slowly, her husband undresses her, then she takes refuge from his beefy shoulders, like a timeless touch of heaven. The newlyweds are like magnets, yet their lips are softer than chenille fabric. Their bodies are on a royal blue bedspread, made out of Egyptian cotton fabric, underneath a blanket and a royal blue comforter made out of Egyptian cotton. An unseen mattress pad made out of foam adds to the comfort.

The four, royal blue pillows made out of memory foam are nonexistent compared to how much the newlyweds are focused on each other. A royal blue, stain-resistant bolster pillow made out of Egyptian cotton is also on the bed.

A Year Later

Both, Sean and Julia graduate with an MBA (Masters of Business Administration) at 19-years-old. What type of a person would want to dream when they have everything they could ever want in reality? Fortunately, he does not oversleep.

His wife (wearing a red sleeveless, wool, turtleneck, a white, high-waist, silk skirt that runs down to her ankles, and black tennis shoes) is video chatting with her parents on a computer screen, then they greet Sean (who is wearing a blue v-neck sweater with both of his sleeves rolled up, revealing his wrists, grey chino pants, and brown, mahogany, wingtip dress shoes) in the background and he greets them in return.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mrs. Paramount (wearing a grey, notched collar blazer and grey dress pants) says.

Mr. Paramount (wearing a wool, black, water-repellant fedora hat with a silver, silk grosgrain band, all-black grey, pinstriped suit with a silver tie and black dress pants) says, “We’re so proud of you. We’re so proud of the both of you.”

“I tried to schedule a time for my favorite people in the world to meet,” Julia is interrupted.

Mr. Paramount says, “You know how busy my schedule is. We’re still in South America and our flight should be arriving in less than thirty minutes. A hooded pitohui flew by last week and sat on my window stool, I didn’t touch it because their feathers are poisonous, so I left the window open. Your mom was screaming and ran out the mansion. The bird flew out, so she comes running back in. I don’t know what I would’ve done if it flew in my kitchen.”

Sean says, “I’d do the same thing.”

Julia says, “I’m glad you two are okay. That’s what matters.”

“You take care of my daughter,” Mr. Paramount says.

“My life is dependent on it,” Sean says.

Sean walks forward, debonairly to feed his sweetheart with a forkful of cheesy risotto. She eats takes more bites of the food as her parents watch.

Mr. Paramount realizes that he squandered $500 on a bottle of cologne that his daughter can’t smell via video chat. “Send me some pictures of you two. Y’all look so good together. Email me the information to Sam’s website. Nice talking to you,” Mrs Paramount says. Mr. and Mrs. Paramount wave goodbye, then the video chat ends.

“You did great. I told you it was nothing to worry about. My parents let me do whatever I want. I’m still their little princess,” Sean’s girlfriend says.

“We should consider getting a bodyguard. Fans are recognizing us like crazy in public and I can’t fight off the whole world. I will if I have to.”

Angelo’s voice comes from Sean’s cell phone, which is sitting on a nearby king-size bed with blue sheets and four, fluffy, blue pillows, “Tell him that he’s all the man you need for your protection. Bruh. You left me on speakerphone this entire time. You just gonna leave me on the phone listening to y’all makin’ kissy faces, havin’ conference meetings, and munchin’ on cheesy risotto? I was ‘bout to hang up, but I stuck around.”

Shaun picks up his cell phone saying, “Angelo. I placed my phone down, then thought I hung up. Sorry about the inconvenience.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Angelo says, “You the man. Even though you have musical anhedonia, you still fell for the woman I hooked you up with and married her. How many women hate music in this city? You made the right choice. After how your pops was mad doggin’ ya, only you would give the old man some dough.”

“My sister and mom needed help too. I can’t have them suffer for how I feel about the old man. What’s two million to me anyway?”

“Oh. I was meaning to tell you. Remember Annie?”

“Who? Annie?”

“Yeah. Bruh. Annie. The one that acted like she was too good for you at Gigi’s Greeneries.”

Sean takes the phone off of speakerphone, then says, “What about her?”

As annoying as the latest cell phone update, Angelo proceeds talking, “The woman will not stop asking about you, ever since you made it big. She wants you. Bruh.”

Sean notices the dissatisfied look on Julia’s face. Julia’s hands are positioned on her hips, allowing him to turn the speakerphone back on.

“She wants me when I’m married. Make sure you tell Annie to lay off. That’s why I tell my wife everything. We do everything together.”

“You know that old blue sports car that I drive?”

“What about it? You tryin’ to get me killed or what?”

“About thirty minutes ago, the chick left a rose between the windshield and the windshield wiper of the car along with a note,” Angelo says.

“What’d it say?”

“Sean, I know that in the past, I wasn’t giving you a fair chance with me and see that a big-hearted man like you have someone else one. I would like to apologize for the shameful way that I mistreated you while congratulating you on your newfound success in your hopes and dreams. I don’t expect you to make a decision right away, but I would like to know if you can forgive me and start over as friends.”

Sean says, “I’ll forgive her, but I’m not writing her back. Tell her that I forgive her, but to find another friend.”

Julia holds Sean by the waist, genuinely smiling.

“When I see her, I’ll tell her. She ain’t gettin’ any media coverage.”

Sean has multiple flashbacks about the things Angelo said, “Look man, come to my church and we can pick up some chicks,” then the scene switches to him saying, “I’m superior than you at gettin’ these chicks. You should’ve seen how I got the last chick. I said it’s on sight. When I see you, I’m making good love to you” and “What I tell you? She’s bangin’.”

“That goes for you too,” Sean says to Angelo.

Every Once In A While

©. Sept. 7, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

If I die,

I want to die successful.

I want to pray

For everyone on Earth

Even if

I have to cry a little.

Sadness differs

And happiness has worth.

Stability comes

With humility.

I’ve lacked

Superhuman abilities

And I’ve

Seen species with a patentee.

I’ve been

Lost for words like they’re Japanese.

I’m a

Learning stranger getting older,

Who still

Make mistakes like lesser-known lives.

If it’s been hotter,

Then it’s been colder

And I’ve been damaged

Until there’s dull knives.

Treat me the way

I want to be treated.

Tell me if

I’m doing something that’s wrong.

Compliment me

Every once in a while.

In Jesus’ name.

I’m your rock,

But I’m not your jewelry.

I’m broke and broken,

Watching my dreams pass.

It seems fast

When I reflect like I’m three.

I’m looking at the antiques

In third class.

I’ve been a has-been

Before I was born

Because I’m that person

You think about.

I’m the experience

You had like scorn.

If I do nothing,

Everyone will pout.

I’m in your

Innermost doubts for living.

I’m quiet

And forgiving like a twist.

I’m not like you,

But I would be giving,

I would be giving

Like an unclenched fist.

Treat me the way

I want to be treated.

Tell me if

I’m doing something that’s wrong.

Compliment me

Every once in a while.

In Jesus’ name.

More Than A Stud

©. May 24, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

Legend has it that you

Were sleep-laughing,

Then laughed when you opened your eyes.

Legend has it that

Miracles run in your family

Like forgiveness.

Like you’re a barber

And salon stylist without trying,

You’re a franchise.

The seats are soft

Like Trinity cream

And you’re like a dream that I access.

Someone is your secret admirer,

Still like a young stud

Is in the wall.

Realizing you’re not an object

Or an obstacle,

You’re a kind woman.

As unreal as a galactic rose

Visible through

An open-top mall,

As unreal as a heart nebula

Breaking from your patience,

There’s a plan.

Try to hire

Private investigators

To find your secret admirer

Or accept the

Ice cream-shaped eyelets

On your pricy custom-made footwear.

Accept the haute couture

And luxury fashion

Unlike a phone number.

Accept the spaghetti crop tops

And parachute pants

For all that I care.

Accept the tailor-made dresses

While the stud stuck in the wall

Grows older.

Accept a car and a mansion,

But don’t forget

The box of yumminess.

Read the billets-doux

And you could be with someone

Who’s over your shoulder.

Your tummy could be shaped

Like a boulder while I help you

Put on a dress.

Gravity doesn’t care

That someone is helping you

Like the words “I do.”

It’s someone else,

But you’re happily adamant to your heart,

Like it’s sewn.

I accepted rejection

Before I received it

Like it’s best for you.

Like your hair turned blue

From the rainfall,

Mine is hidden in a place unknown.

Legend has it that I’m more than a stud.

Legend has it that I’m more than a stud.

Your shoes would be lowered or risen

With the hinges on brims

On the collars.

You could be far

As if though I was wrongfully placed

On the no fly list.

Like they’d try to have me

Take a plea bargain

For thinking about others.

More than others,

I think about you,

Even though there’s many years I missed.

A sure-fire way

To grab your attention

Is to be another color,

But it’s like you’re still staring

At a wall,

Not seeing the stud behind it.

Do you love that I’m

An African American aesthete

Who’s older?

I know you love the fine lines

And form, but you’d know

“I’m not a counterfeit.”

Do you love the space

Between us

Because I can feel you getting closer.

Feel my texture

And know my value,

Like a reserved mastermind unknown.

Move along,

So that I don’t bore you fast,

But at least I’m not a poser.

I’m no fun, but you nail the stud

To hang a painting

On the wall alone.

I know I look like a poser,

But “Ouch”

Like another nail in the wall.

Give me putty and pity,

But don’t get your hair dirty

From what’s icky.

This mural could’ve had machismo,

But this mural

Is still standing tall.

I know my worth,

But your arms are like demolition cranes

With a hickey.

Please don’t watch the paint dry

Because you may paint over me

In 20 years.

I could be vandalized

With graffiti from the

True blue and red people.

I could be scribbled on

With crayons from your children,

Then hear many cheers.

I could be more than a stud,

But you don’t think that I think

That we’re equal.

Legend has it that I’m more than a stud.

Legend has it that I’m more than a stud.

Prayer In A Cell Room

©. May 15, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

There’s a type of love

Where if you were

Sentenced life in prison,

Someone would marry you,

But how often would

There be the oxytocin

Produced from much-needed

Snuggle sessions?

Make her feel young

Again like there’s

Backstage kisses

At a live concert with revenue.

Make her feel like

Smiling is a profession

Until you hear her

Sincere confessions.

She could be not guilty

Like her body count,

As if though she had feelings,

But not love.

You could be

Too busy defending

The awkward relationship

Than enjoying one.

“I don’t need permission

To love your sister,”

You say, but any love,

They dispose of.

Say you’re dating a prisoner

And you’re bombarded

With questions

Like she owns a gun.

Maybe she does

Own a gun, but you shut your eyes

In supplication

And feel better.

Maybe she uses her hands

Instead of a loofah sponge

And has sweaty palms

At times.

Try to protect her

From the cruelty,

Then she learns to fight

And feels like a monster.

Sometimes, she’s numb like a puppy

Ate her food stamps,

But the masses think

That she’ll say rhymes.

Ask her how she is

When you write to her,

Then tell her how you

Learned to make a pizza.

Wow her with your knowledge

As if though you read

A plethora of books

Your entire life.

The odds that she’s talking

To other men are unlikely,

Though she may want

Your moolah.

Get to know her

Like your abstract thoughts

Convincing you that she could be

The perfect wife.

Write to her about

How your pupils dilate,

Increasing in size

When you see her face.

“Guillotines were invented

By a physician to be

A humane

Way of dying.”

Maybe she wanted

To know about that,

But you think that she prefers

Some breathing space.

It does smell in prison,

But if she gets free,

Would you confirm your love

By supplying?

“An assistant executioner

Slapped a victim

And that’s just

How humane it was.

Then somehow, the victim

Made an expression

Of rage causing

An ongoing debate.

Doctors would tell

Imminent victims

To blink after being

Executed because

They wanted to know

If victims could still move

After execution”

Reads her roommate.

She snatches the letter

As if her roommate

Is reading hieroglyphics

In the gloom.

“And guillotines were used

As a form of

Euphoric entertainment

For the masses.

Guillotine operators

Were national celebrities,”

She reads

In her cell room.

She knows you like

A prayer partner

And wants to show you

Off like pricy sunglasses.

She’s laidback like guillotines

Used to be toys

And conjugal visits

Made illegal.

What’s the

Bare maximum

You can hug

At a contact visitation

And what criminals are

The police,

Cold like chunks of ice,

For locking up a model?

She’s mistreated

By the world,

Yet treated as if

She’s on a day-to-day vacation.

Let her work remotely

With equal pay

Like the outsiders

With independent skills.

Give her the liberty section

Of the room,

So you can rescue her

With good lawyers.

She’s not a science project

In utopia

Like the masses

Yelling when she chills.

She’s an ambitious woman

Unlike another,

But they compare her

To destroyers.

If she got a

Luxurious prison,

All that you can give her

Is your awkward time.

Release her and she has your world,

But will she remain the same

Woman in the letters?

Others were reading

How the romance started

During bedtime

And that should be a crime.

You’d pay for her to have

An open-for-use kitchen,

TV, and what else

She prefers.

You’ve noticed the guillotines

Outside and pray

That you’ll be with her

In the second life.

You can hear a prayer

Of intercession,

Then you’re ordered

To let go of her hand

By the undefiled men and women,

Careless that you want

To make her

Your future wife.

Sling: separation comes

To a sudden stop

Just for you to live

In a perfect land.

There’s Sister Jane

©. April 29, 2023. All Rights Reserved.

I’d like to have 144,000 friends, including the Redeemer.

Talking is not my strong suit, but I’ll wear the full armor of God and progress from now.

The caring and sharing would be rewarding like the last time I was a daydreamer.

Could one of you be exactly what you look like and if certainly so, then “Wow.”

I may hear prayers for finding house keys, but we shouldn’t have to keep the front door shut.

We shut it anyway, locking out the devils, but our eyes are locked on prophecy.

Seriously, I’m not shocked if humanity tries to plant seeds in a paper cut.

I want out, though my brown eyes could be locked on a believer that could be my lady.

In the sky, there’s Sister Jane,

Worshipping the Redeemer.

For your information, her name’s anonymous, but in my dream, she was Sister Jane.

She was not a chronic complainer, but made me feel warm before I left her eyesight.

It wasn’t from hyperromantic prayers, but she was friendly like a balletomane.

To explain her in a single word would be a misnomer, though we spoke in daylight.

We didn’t flirt at all, but the feeling as though we’d date if on Earth felt mutual.

I met her in a dream now, wanting the Redeemer to be prouder of my actions.

The kingdom was blurry and she was not, but joining her up there will not be simple.

I want to have a heart like Yeshua and in the afterlife, see His attractions.

In the sky, there’s Sister Jane,

Worshipping the Redeemer.