Creation For Showbiz

©. Jan. 21, 2024. All Rights Reserved.

INT. FILM SET—DAY

DIRECTOR

You look stunning. As always, pulling off award-winning performances and you’re only…

AUBREY

Only thirty-five with mental fortitude.

MAX

Smile for the camera.

DIRECTOR

That’s right everybody. It’s only season five. Keep calling her by the name Rachel Venice. Rachel lives is from Seattle, Washington, has a bulldog named Sam in apartment number two hundred and five, and looks up food tutorials to cook by her lonesome. She is Rachel.

MAX

That’s my job. She’s my girlfriend.

The director grins.

DIRECTOR

She’s Rachel. Rachel dates Keith, who saws off her old wedding ring. Not Max. Do you see Max anywhere on the script? This is the cutthroat show business. Who has time for dating when there’s money to be made? Rachel has a man to protect her. It’s called a bodyguard. Her parents are broadcasted on the television screen every week. Action!

AUBREY

It’s my intuitive sense of justice to have you.

DIRECTOR

Cut! Well done.

JOE

Don’t mind the director. He was married for eight years with a wife who was also a film director. Then he found out that his wife was cheating on him with a cameraman. After he fired the cameraman, the cameraman became married her.

DIRECTOR

Joe. What did I tell you about standing around and chirping? The makeup department is on your right. Do I have to fire someone again? How am I going to complete this movie? Help out with the film budget, then you can chirp all day.

AUBREY

Can you get some real food on the set. Rachel cannot smell prop food.

The director’s enraged face turns to a smile.

DIRECTOR

Coming Right up. Chop-chop! Rachel needs some real food!

Max travels to hand Rachel a plate with two cheesesteaks and French fries.

EXT. MOVIE PREMIERE—NIGHT

Aubrey steps out of the passenger’s seat of her lowrider. Her muscular bodyguard steps out of the driver’s seat. Max is in the back seat. Everyone take pictures and video record Aubrey.

She walks on the red carpet with her paparazzi and bodyguard. She waves at everyone while smiling. People are shouting her name and asking for an autograph.

Then, the film director of her television series arrives in a limousine. He steps out of the limousine, wearing sunglasses.

DIRECTOR

I know. I know. It’s me. Honey, my autograph costs more than your car note. This coat costs five thousand dollars plus taxes. Don’t touch me. Thank you, ma’am. Coming through.

REPORTER

Williams. We have Williams on the red carpet, who is the producer of the highly anticipated Penpal Comes On My Vacation and tonight is the premiere. We meet again. This is your fifth season directing a television series with Aubrey. The fans and haters all around the world want to know, will there be a season six?

DIRECTOR

We will start filming season six right after the red carpet. We don’t waste time. On every media outlet, I’ve dodged the question about what drove me to create the character Rachel. It’s the name of someone dear to me. You can say that I fell in love with the character. I love all of my characters, especially Rachel. Spoiler. In season six, Rachel is going to have a kissing scene. And start calling her Rachel for now on. It’s what everyone is calling her. A thousand dollars say that you’ll start calling her Rachel. How’s that sound?

Williams reaches in his pocket and tosses a stack of money at the reporter’s face.

Aubrey notices that a stack of money falls from Williams right pocket. She walks by to pick it up before anyone else does.

AUBREY

You dropped your money.

Cameras flash.

Williams accept the cash.

DIRECTOR

I knew I dropped something. Somebody is getting fired tonight and I don’t know who it is! Thank you, Rachel.

Williams smiles at the camera with an embarrassed expression.

DIRECTOR

That’s why Rachel was casted for the role. She keeps making me money. I have so much money, I don’t know what to do with it.

REPORTER #2

We’ve seen you on the backstage film set watching the making of Williams movies for years. How do you know Williams?

MAX

Please. Call me Aubrey’s girlfriend.

The reporter and everyone in the crowd laughs. Even Aubrey’s bodyguard chuckles.

Williams pushes Max out of the way.

DIRECTOR

The boy has jokes. After the movie premiere, check your social media to look at our new voting poll. Do you prefer Rachel to survive with Keith, Travis, or Penelope?

INT. MOVIE PREMIERE—NIGHT

It is dark. Max is seated beside Aubrey at the movie premiere, holding her hand. He feeds her popcorn while she feeds him popcorn. They share a beverage with the same bendy straw.

INT. FILM SET—NIGHT/DAY

After the movie, she spends grueling hours on the film set.

INT. LIVING ROOM—DAY

When she is not on the film set, she is rehearsing.

INT. FILM SET—DAY

Max shows up to Aubrey’s on-site film trailer, then hands her a box of heart-shaped chocolates.”

MAX

Hey. These are for Rachel.

AUBREY

Something is bothering you. I know what that look means. Tell me. Don’t call me Rachel anymore. Call me Aubrey.

She munched on chocolate candy.

MAX

Is it true what Williams said? Are you going to have a kissing scene with someone?

AUBREY

You got me talking with my mouth full. Williams like to get the audience amped up. I told you there would be a kissing scene.

MAX

You told me? I remember you telling me something like that, but I figured that you were acting as Rachel.

AUBREY

Everyone tells me that nobody can act out the character Rachel like me. If you’re uncomfortable with me kissing anyone, then I won’t go through with it.

Max hugs Aubrey, then she grabs his shirt, pulling him in to give him a kiss.

EXT. FILM SET—DAY

Later, someone slides a magazine under the front door of Aubrey’s trailer and on the front page, it mentions that Aubrey is in a relationship with her director that has a picture of her handing him cash.

She exits the trailer and sees Max reading the same magazine cover. When he turns on the radio, he hears about the news. He turns around.

She receives constant phone calls and text messages and when she checks her social media, people assume that she’s dating her film director.

Williams is talking on a cellular device.

DIRECTOR

That boy is emotionally invested in a character that I created. She’s my character. Everyone busted out laughing at him when they heard him say she’s his girlfriend. It became the punchline of the month. I don’t know what he’ll do, but she is so much of Rachel, she doesn’t call her parents. The only reason that boy is on the film set is because my moneymaker insisted. Who am I to deny her of what she wants? Without her, there’s no show and with no show, there’s no money.

AUBREY

I don’t know how this information got out, but it’s not true. It’s one hundred percent false.

Max stares at the magazine, then looks up to see Aubrey acting on cue, crying on a bed.

In another scene, Aubrey starts walking down the halls on the film set, then Keith appears in the scene. The pleasing scent of his body causes some of the backstage film crew to faint. The backstage audience are cheering for Keith as he is inches away from kissing Aubrey.

AUBREY

Cut!

DIRECTOR

What now? You! The boy with the flimsy hat. You’re in the movie. You know how to act? Nobody will notice. Change of plans. Someone else hold his camera while he acts out some scenes. We have to change the script.

Max walks down the halls on the film set, then kiss Aubrey. The electricity goes out.

AUBREY

It was your turn to pay the electricity bill. Did you pay the bill?

Max grabs his cell phone and sees that he has a low battery and slumps down on the couch.

DIRECTOR

Perfect! Take ten.

Aubrey turns on the television and sees the news covering a rumor that she is dating her film director. They then notice that the reporter from the red carpet event spreaded the rumors, after seeing his face on television.

Aubrey makes a live video on her cell phone.

AUBREY

Hey everyone. The rumor is that I’m dating my film director, but my real boyfriend, Max, is right here.

MAX

Hi.

AUBREY

He’s been on the film set every day to watch me. Later.

The Way To Rise

©. July 6, 2022. All Rights Reserved

Flattering to the eyes like whole wheat cookies, on the twelfth row of the silver, aluminum bleacher seat, her orange frizziness, with radiant gold at the tip, covers her scalp. On top of her frizzy hair is a plaid, orange and black bucket hat. Her quintessential, enchanting, ocean blue, upturned eyes (featuring flecks of white in them) were cautious to look behind her. The photogenic woman has heart-shaped lips and the skin of a dermatologist, smelling like homemade cocoa butter. She is wearing an orange, asymmetrical neckline tank top, Dalmatian dog print, polyester leggings, and orange espadrille wedge sandals (with braided straps and an adjustable ankle strap closure). Her name is Vera and she is one year shy away from the age of 21, holding an opened, unputdownable Holy Bible, against the refreshing breeze.

It is just a seated crowd full of strangers cheering, more active than children in a pile of itching powder. Specifically, a couple is behind her. Gage Tampa (a 19-year-old male with a black, low bald fade, wearing a white, store-bought baseball cap backwards, a green, 2 piece, long-sleeved, polyester tracksuit, and white gym shoes). Romilly Miles (19-years-old blond female) has brown, tinted, oversized sunglasses above her plump lips, a floral, white, embroidered skirt over a yellow, silk chemise dress, the latest white designer bag, with the strap around her shoulder, and yellow wedge sandals).

Bleachers are surrounding the entire event; there are approximately 46 bleachers surrounding the park. Behind the bleachers, there is an elderly grey-haired man with a buzz cut and a semi-short style on the back and sides. From his bathroom that has a brown, shaggy carpet on the floor, he is looking out of the rain-stained, half-shut hopper window (wearing a grey, oversized sweatshirt, blue, baggy sweatpants with an elastic waistband, and black dress shoes).

He then steps over a spacious, terracotta carry-on bag (made out of cowhide, interior pockets for pens, credit cards, and a cell phone, while two large outer zippered pockets hold additional items). On the right exterior, there is a black microfiber inside along with a deodorant stick, featuring a smooth, moisturizing, and non-greasy application. He attempts to blow up an air mattress, after looking at the cumulonimbus clouds.

Outside of the house, a 7-year-old girl (with her parents nowhere to be found, is wearing an adjustable, beige life vest, bluish-green swimming trunks, and beige sandals) is playing with action figures. Then, she flees from the man (like he is the personification of sarin gas). Vera forms a picture-perfect smile, looking at the elderly man longer. He is not a dinosaur fossil, but a human being.

The damp grassy terrains have alabaster-white, aromatic moon vines with rich, green, heart-shaped leaves that are 4 to 6 inches long. While several skateboarders are speeding downhill, toward the venue of an annual sports event for hypercompetitive swimmers, cars are speeding the opposite direction, all while the girl with an adventurous mind, is picking flowers. She flicks off a lady bug from her shoulder with her right insect finger. One blond, teenage skateboarder that stands out is a goofyfooter (skating with their right foot in front of the skateboard and pushing with their left), wearing a beige baseball cap with an image of a killer shark, on his shaggy hair, green oversized crew neck cut t-shirt emblazoned with the slogan “I Have A Sugar Boss,” beige, loose-fitting chino shorts, black tube socks, and black and green, low-top sneakers.

With his left hand, a male food vendor is holding a tray full of fresh hotdogs with onions on the side and condiments (like barbecue sauce, ketchup, mustard, honey mustard, relish, chili, coleslaw, sauerkraut jalapeños, cheese, and mayonnaise). Forming a winsome smile, he passes up Romilly heading up the bleachers, then she sees a male food vendor holding two bleachers away, on her right side, holding a tray with fresh nachos and cheese.

A female food vendor arrives holding a tray with 20 transparent, plastic bowls of ice cream, with transparent, plastic spoons. The various flavors: vanilla, French vanilla, chocolate, chocolate chip, mint chocolate chip, cookies and cream, coffee, strawberry, neapolitan, eggnog, peanut butter, peanut butter and jelly, lemon sorbet, butterscotch, butter pecan, caramel, cherry, coffee, banana, and mango.

Sitting behind Romilly, an 8-year-old boy named Ethan (with a black, slicked back hairstyle, a maroon v-neck t-shirt, white capri pants, and brown sneakers) stands up out of his seat, calling for the food vendor, while chewing strawberry bubble gum, “Butterscotch! I want…”

More disheartened than the lifespan of marigold, the moment that the parsimonious boy tries to say the word “Butterscotch,” his bubble gum spews out of his mouth, landing on a seated lady’s grey hair. Fearfully, he darts his head around to see if his parents rooting for the athletes, notice. His mother is wearing a yellow spaghetti strap, black, polyester, low-rise pants, and yellow loafers. His father (takes his immaculate shirt with an alligator design off, shouting louder) while wearing a leather, black belt, blue jeans, and black gym shoes. Since Ethen’s parents did not notice the incident, he laughs ecstatically.

Romilly looks down at the soggy bubble gum, eyes her boyfriend with a horrified face, and stares at the embarrassed boy. Gage and other members of the crowd notices what happened, staring at the boy in utter disgust, making a half-hearted effort to utter a word. To the elderly lady’s knowledge, she is dressed up wearing a light blue midi dress and tawny clogs and nothing can ruin her day. The witnesses in the crowd seem hesitant to inform the lady that gum is launched into the back of her hair. Everyone maintains a fuss-free behavior, except for the boy.

Carelessly, the boy continues to shout, as if nothing happened, “Butterscotch!”

The masterful Romilly says to the boy, who is shouting like he experienced generations of tyranny, “Sorry, but this is an emergency,” takes $2 from her boyfriend’s extended hand, saying to the food vendor, “Over here! I’m your friend here and I want cherry,” and pays the food vendor the cash, saying, “You’re so helpful. Off, you go.”

Romilly grabs the bowl of cherry ice cream, removes the organic cherry, places the large-tipped stem in her mouth, ties it in a knot with her tongue, then shows an impressed Gage. After removing the stem, she places the cherry in her mouth, and gives him an open-mouth kiss. The moment is as surreal as being a debt-free power couple, solidifying their hedonistic pleasures.

A man walks behind Vera and whispers in her ear after shielding her body with his warm arms. Vera’s body is cool like a heavy-duty cooler with wheels. Still, he keeps his position to speak.

The man says with an amalgamation of sexual desires, “Guess who.”

Vera squints as if a subhuman is touching her baby-soft skin and her body turns stiff. Occurring fast, she impulsively squeezes her fingers together, to where there’s no space or gap between them. She is having an overt act of aggression, bending her fingers into her palm, and curling them under until the tip of each finger touches its corresponding base. Her thumb is still loose at the side of her hand. She curls her fingers inward, where the bottom knuckles are brought out and the finger joints are tucked in.

When her third and outermost knuckles of her fingers are bent, her nails partially disappear from her palms while her thumb is still hanging ins loosely. She bends the thumb down, allowing it to fall across the top halves of the index and middle fingers. The top of her thumb presses against the the fold of the second knuckle of her index finger, then she squeezes her fist, prepared to strike the anonymous person into an interstellar voyage.

When Vera turns around, she loosens her fists while having a relaxed composure, saying, “It can’t be.”

Forming a tooth-baring smile, the man sarcastically says, “I said guess who.”

With a gracious smile, showcasing her rectangular-shaped, milk-white teeth, Vera says, “Milo! Don’t ever sneak up on me. I don’t like surprises.”

Milo says, “You have my word.”

Vera says, “Milo.”

Sitting down beside Vera, Milo says, “I mean it. It’s Friday. Who’s winning?”

Gage and Romilly are still enjoying their delicious wet kisses. Since he recently ate a vanilla ice cream before landing his lips on her, the scent of her distinct cherry ice cream blends, smelling like homemade milk bread. They form milky-sweet smiles, continuing to passionately kiss. Like a ambidextrous artisans the way their hands grip each other’s body and face, numerous members of the crowd get distracted from their emotional attachment.

While the couple behind Vera seem to be flaunting their kissing skills, she says to Milo, “Lona Franchester.”

Milo says, “Lona, with the double, braided ponytail, swam her way to first place in the first round, breaking last year’s fastest time in the women’s division. The men’s division is yet to come, but Trevor Bo, with the tousled hairstyle, is trying to intimidate his competition with his infamous stretch warmups before the grueling race. Four years ago, Trevor came in second place and ever since he started performing his warmups, he stole the show. If you ask me, Trevor’s warmups are making me feel exhausted.”

Standing adjacent to Milo, Gage says, “Trevor must have been wearing a life jacket to win. The only reason I’m not competing this year is because I have leg day.”

Milo says, “Tell me about it. In all honesty, you should give swimming a try.”

Gage says, “We are all born swimmers. We’re the sperm that won. We conquered before we were born, so we can conquer while we are born.”

Romilly says, “That is thought-provoking.”

Vera reads from the Holy Bible while Gage stares at her, only to say to Milo, “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

Vera appears completely disconnected from what is going on until Milo says, “Gage. Romilly. This is my friend, Vera. Vera. Gage. Romilly.”

Wearing a euphoric smile, Romilly says, “Thank you for that icebreaker. How about you and your compadre take a ride with us around town to better get to know each other?”

Milo says, “I don’t think she’s…”

Romilly says, “We’ll be back in about five minutes. I have a phone call to make. That should give your compadre enough time to make a full decision. Is that clear?”

Milo says, “Crystal clear.”

By the time Milo looks at Vera, she is eating peanut butter ice cream from a bowl with a spoon. From her peripheral vision, she eyes Romilly and Gage walking down the bleachers, then continues to eat.

Milo says, “Are you up for a day with Gage and Romilly?”

Vera says, “How long have you known them?”

“A couple of months,” he says, “Take the edge off. It’ll be fun. Try it for once.”

Vera says, “Sorry.”

He says, “What do you plan to do for the rest of your life? You’re driving me up the wall.”

“To be a martyr for Christ. All things considered, I should get going.”

As if he got a woman pregnant after getting a vasectomy, Milo’s eyes widen in shock. He stares at her walking down the bleachers and turns around to see Ethan eating a bowl of butterscotch ice cream with a spoon. The boy makes an inexcusable laugh and his mother slaps him across the back of the head, saying, “Keep it down! You’re scaring everyone!”

20 Minutes Later:

Vera is driving in an invigorating blue convertible vehicle, stops at a red light signal at an intersection, and hears an incoming sound for a text message, on her cell phone. The light signal turns green after a pedestrian with black dreadlocks walk across the street (wearing a wool, olive-green, hooded raincoat, blue jeans, and brown dress shoes).

A bright green lowrider with hydraulics speed on the right side of the road, hopping and jumping. Romilly is in the driver’s seat, Gags is in the passenger’s seat, and Milo lowers the tinted window from the backseat.

Romilly says, “Baby girl! You’re missin’ out!”

Milo says, “Call you later! Ciao!”

Gage just waves, then comfortable rests his hand on Romilly’s right thigh.

Milo says to Gage, “I ain’t payin’ no woman mind if they ain’t payin’ me head, but I’ll make an exception for her.”

5 Minutes Later:

Vera’s garage door opener was recently installed yesterday by herself and the door is actually opening. Surrounding the garage door are climbing roses of various yellow hues. Slowly, Vera drives her car forward, until it is completely inside of the garage, where there is a high-quality, red mountain bike on the right side (featuring a foam saddle, a riser bar, flat pedals, deep section wheels, and an all aluminum derailleur). Then the garage door opener closes. She places the gearbox in the neutral mode takes her foot off the clutch (without taking her foot off the service break, applies the parking break, releases the break pedal, and switches off the engine. She steps out of the driver’s seat, shuts the side door, remotely locks the car with her car key, open a door, and makes her way into the welcoming living room (where there’s an installed wool, grey carpet).

There’s a black, mahogany leaning bookcase on the plaster wall (painted with beige high-gloss) with several, lightweight books, a polyester, 6-piece, bluish-green sectional sofa over a beige, hand-woven rug, a black, flat-screen television sitting on a glass entertainment system (featuring a removable shelf and two built-in drawers), and a painting of New York City beside the television. On the entertainment system is a black ceramic vase with a Touch-Me-Not plant inside, extended from the soil.

Near the front door, there is a closet with a sliding door. Inside of the closet are stocked up foods. On a silver, powder-coated, steel storage shelf with 6 shelves, there’s canned salmon, next to a red, multipurpose fire extinguisher. There’s budget-friendly boxes full of whole-wheat crackers, oatmeal, granola bars, peanut butter, peanuts, almonds, sunflower seeds, pumpkin seeds, canned tomato paste, canned tuna, canned chicken, canned sardines, canned beans, canned apricots and raisins, jars of dehydrated spinach, and spices (like cumin, curry powder, garlic, ginger, nutmeg, dill weed, powder, onion powder, paprika, cinnamon, and vanilla abstract). On the left side, there are boxes full of cocoa, baking chocolate, baking powder, baking soda, yeast, cornstarch, vinegar, coconut oil, honey and sugar. Beside the boxes is bleach, ammonia, isopropyl alcohol, hydrogen peroxide, multi-purpose soap, and antibacterial disinfectant spray, as well as packs of bottled water.

Her kitchen cabinet has bags of beans, white rice, brown rice, noodles, lentils, quinoa, popcorn, sugar, and flour. Above the white, top freezer refrigerator are organic bananas and loaves of whole wheat bread. In the refrigerator, there are 3 full-width racks. Inside are (eggs, almonds, onions, apples, oranges, kiwis, watermelons, pineapples, broccoli, cucumbers, carrots, potatoes, flax seed, cheese, butter, ketchup, mustard, relish, mayonnaise, barbecue sauce, hot sauce, soy sauce, sriracha, sauce, as well as almond milk, carrot juice, prune juice, and elderberry syrup. The freezer section has bags of strawberries, cherries, blue berries, cranberries, mangoes, bananas, as well as sausages, chicken, and chicken broth.

Across from the refrigerator, she has a steel, white deep freezer. Inside, there’s ready-to-cook meals (like pizzas, chickens, hams, and sausages). There’s bags of fruits (like blue berries, mangoes, and bananas), and bags of other foods (like beans and corn).

Bluish-green, sheer voile curtains are behind her, blocking the picturesque pool patio. Her patio is as fulfilling as finding ungoverned land. Beside the curtains, there is an air conditioner. On the right corner of the room, the same side the air conditioner is on, there is a black, mini refrigerator (with apples, oranges, and bananas, as well as bottles of water). There is a stainless steel, black, rectangular, mahogany dining table with a silver laptop on the far left side, and two indoor, brown, mahogany sitting benches (with foam inside of leather cushion cases) parallel to each other on the right and left side.

When she lightly touches the Touch-Me-Not plant, the compound leaves fold inward, shaking and defending itself from harm. The plant helps the treatment of disorders like alopecia, piles, dysentery sinus, insomnia, diarrhea, as well as cure wounds. Her plant has antibacterial, antivenom, antidepressant, anticonvulsant, anti-fertility, anti-asthmatic, and aphrodisiac properties.

Vera removes her black cell phone out of her front, right pocket and checks the current time that reads “2:42 P.M.” Her text message from Milo reads, “Are you sure you don’t want to join us? We can turn the car around to pick you up. I brought goodies. I’ll save you a bag.”

Vera calls Milo, then says, “Milo. I made it home. Sorry, but I don’t have a good feeling about your new friends. My workplace meeting is just around the corner.”

Milo sentence seems to carry on longer than a celestial body in what is supposed to be outer space, “It won’t be the same without you. It’ll be even better! You’re missing out, girl! Being a water engineer will give you an early retirement, but I’ll be living my life. There’s no guarantee I’ll be sixty years old. I’ll be back home at around eight.”

She says, “Call me when you get back home.”

Milo says, “You have my word.”

She says, “Thank you.”

Milo says, “Always here to help. I’m just helping out a friend. The pleasure is all mine.”

She responds, “Don’t mention it, but call me back. I want to make sure you make it back home safe.”

He says, “I’ll be fine. No worries. I bench-pressed three-forty right before leaving the house. As soon as I make it back, I’m calling you.“

She says, “Bye,” then ends the phone call, placing the device back in her right pocket.

She slumps down on the sectional sofa, charges her cell phone, sets the device for a 30 minute timer, and falls asleep, with a humongous fish tank behind the sofa. The fish tank full of freshwater has 3 bottom-feeding catfish and 3 non-aggressive betta fish, as well as a Red-Eared Slider turtle.

30 minutes later, her alarm rings and she wakes up, heads to the kitchen, and takes a prepped meal in a container full of salmon salad (with salmon, mayonnaise, hard-boiled egg, onion, celery, pepper, mustard, and pickles) out of the refrigerator. She grabs a box of graham crackers and heads to the living room, sitting at the ergonomic dining table to eat.

40 Minutes Later:

Vera is in an indoor environment, (wearing a brownish-yellow jumpsuit made out of organic cotton and black suede, pointed toe slingback flats) sitting in a black, leather rolling chair at a rectangular desk. There are 19 other employees seated chatting to each other (dressed in business suits) and the boss (with a black, short, low fade haircut) enters the room. Immediately, everyone turns silent.

The boss says, “How is everyone doing? I don’t care. Let your feelings speak through your work and your work speak through solutions. By a show of hands, how many people heard that there will be a hundred-year-flood in California a hundred years ago?”

Nobody raises their hand.

He says, “Two years ago, after I left the water running in my kitchen, my place was excessively flooded. I had over fifty thousand dollars worth of collector’s coins and was forced to evacuate the premises, but I couldn’t find my coins. Thirty to fifty years from now, those coins could’ve been worth a fortune.”

Vera says, “Excuse me, Max. Two years ago, I recall you saying your daughter left the kitchen sink running.”

With adequate knowledge, Max says, “That is why I love Vera. She is always listening like a woman should. That is what today is about. I decided to stop blaming my daughter and took responsibility for her actions. I can’t change what happened, but I can change on whether or not the mold damage will remain in my home. My reaction to the problem is what separates me from the rest. She was generous enough to let me stay with her for weeks and offered me to have her car. She game me financial stability. I only knew the woman for a week. That gave me enough time to get back on my feet. Thus far, our local utility district recycles approximately eighty percent of water and it’s all thanks to the business strategy of Vera. She’s doing more jobs than what was asked for her, which brings me to the decision of giving her a raise. I know everything she’ll say. Say something, Vera.”

When Vera speaks with gusto, Max says the same thing, simultaneously, “Thank you so much. I am flattered.”

Max says, “We are platonic business partners. Now, Benjamin, who I don’t like, is another workaholic. It’s not about liking the employees. It’s about getting the job done and bringing forth effective change, no matter how slow.”

Benjamin, with a black mullet hairstyle forms a long-lasting smirk from the dehumanizing remark. A male employee (with a diamond-encrusted watch) lightly pats Benjamin on the back.

As an employee turns on a projector, another flicks the light switch off. The room is dark and a light flashes on the wall, opposite of Max. It’s visual imagery showing a small product.

Max says, “This is the future…”

While Max talks, Vera cannot properly focus on the words he is saying. She has consistent flashbacks of reading the Book of Revelation in the Holy Bible about the end of times and hearing others warn her about the mark of the beast. She comes out of the flashbacks.

Max continues talking, “Our company will no longer be accepting cash because we are going digital. The first person to show that we mean business is the hardest worker in the room, Vera.”

Showcasing moral fiber, Vera makes a tough decision. She rises up, says, “I am not taking that! That’s the mark of the beast! From this moment on, I resign as a water engineer,” then exits the room. The employees in the room are shocked, especially the boss. Max follows her calling her name, but while she rushes down the seven flights of stairs, he takes the elevator. Almost at the first floor, an employee enters the elevator from the second floor. Max sighs, simultaneous to when Vera is rushing into her car. By the time he looks out the front window, Vera, his hardest worker is driving away.

On the following day, which is Tuesday at 6:00 A.M., Vera wakes up in her brown, mahogany canopy bed (featuring milk-white, silk bed curtains and a mattress made out of horsehair). Her cell phone is ringing on a nearby brown, mahogany, 5-drawer dresser, beside a stack of print paper. She rises up (wearing a green spaghetti strap and white pajamas) and checks her cell phone, where it shows 40 missed messages and 20 missed calls. Thus, she slips on black flip flops and calls her mother, who informs her to turn on the television to watch the local news station.

To Vera’s surprise, she sees a news reporter telling a story about her friend Milo being brutally murdered in a swimming pool while skinny dipping, three towns away. She gasps for air, then calls her mother back.

“The last time I saw Milo, he was in the back seat of Romilly’s car.”

Her mother says, “Who is Romilly?”

A knock sounds off at the front door.

“Milo was friend’s with Romilly, who I met at a swimming event yesterday. She has a boyfriend named Gage, who was also there.”

The knock at the front door gets louder, then the doorbell rings.

“Police,” one police officer yells like an infant with amoral behavior, outside of a door beside another officer.

Vera says, “I’ll call you back.”

The mom says, “Wait! Who is Gage?”

When Vera turns off the television, she looks through the peephole, seeing two police officers with abrasive personalities. One police officer has black, short, wavy hair and down-turned, grey eyes. She unlocks the door and opens it.

Officer Roy says, “Good morning, miss. My name is Officer Roy and this is my partner in crime, Officer Stearling. We’re looking for a Vera Janes.”

She says, “That’s me.”

Roy says, “Do you know Milo Henry. You, by any chance wouldn’t have any information on him? Can we step inside to ask you questions?”

“Would you two like something to eat or drink,” she says.

Officer Stearling walks inside and says, as if she may try to food poisoning him, “Really, miss. You’re doing too much.”

Vera waits for Officer Roy to enter, locks the front door, and says, “Make yourself at home. There’s plenty of food in my kitchen. The police should never work on on empty stomach. Nobody goes hungry in my house. Pancakes?”

Officer Roy says while gazing into her ocean blue eyes, “I’ll have some pancakes and orange juice.”

Vera says, “You’re going to love my pancakes.”

Officer Stearling says, “Water, please.”

Vera walks into the kitchen, washes her hands, takes out a bowl, and starts adding ingredients in a silver, stainless steel bowl. In the bowl, she adds a half teaspoon of salt, a 1/2 cup of shredded mozzarella cheese, 1/3 cup of corn, 1/3 cup of diced red bell pepper, 1/3 cup of chopped, cooked broccoli, 2 cups of cooked egg noodles, and 3 whisked eggs. Then she stirs all of the ingredients in a bowl.

She heats 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium heat. After pouring 1/4 cup of the noodle mixture per pancake, she allows the food to cook for for 3 minutes and flips the pancakes to the opposite side, letting them cook 3 additional minutes. Afterwards, she places 8 sausage links in a pan, adds a small amount of water, and warms them up until they’re cooked. Ensuring that she turned off the stove, she double checks.

In her left hand, she is carrying a cup full of clean water. In her right hand, she is carrying a warm, white, ceramic plate full of four mouth-watering noodle pancakes and four sausage links on the side, with garlic bread.

Officer Roy says, “Thank you.”

Returning back to the kitchen, she returns out, handing officer Roy a cup of cold orange juice with 4 ice cubes inside.

“Orange juice for you,” Vera says.

Vera sits down at the table while Roy is munching on the delectable meal.

“Delicious. My momma don’t even cook for me. A woman like you can’t be single. Who’s the lucky guy,” Roy says.

Thinking about Milo, her eyes turn watery, then she says, “I’m not seeing anyone.”

Officer Stearling says, “Milo was last seen talking to you at a swimming event. Is this true?”

“Correct. I knew him for more than two years. When I was volunteering to fight against human trafficking in Hawaii, that’s when I first laid my eyes on him. He was a tourist from Trois-Rivières, Canada, who would crack a joke just to break the ice.”

Officer Roy says, “Ma’am, did you watch the news today?”

Vera starts weeping. Her entire body shakes as Roy continues to eat in somewhat of a guilty pleasure. Once he finishes eating, he burps, only to finish drinking his cup of fresh-squeezed orange juice.

Officer Stearling says to Officer Roy, “You idiot.”

Suddenly, Officer Roy leans against the chair and falls to the right side of the floor. Officer Stearling panics as he aims his gun at her, but no bullets fire out. She smiles runs toward him, after grabbing a knife on the table. Officer Stearling screams like he stepped on a bear trap. Then, Officer Stearling exits the daydream, seeing Vera weeping in front of him.

Officer Stearling says, “I’m sorry for your loss. Thank you for this wonderful meal. If you need anything and I mean anything, call me. Have a good one. Come on, Roy.”

Officer Roy follows Officer Stearling out of the front door. Vera closes the door after softly saying, “Thank you. You as well.”

She turns back on the television with her remote control and an RFID chip is being promoted on the news, where one volunteer has it placed on their right hand. The volunteer is allowed access to open up a door to an office, get food from a vending machine, and purchase food at the grocery store, simply by scanning the information on his hand. The RFID chip even has citizens vaccination status on it.

She remembers reading the Bible verse Revelation 13:16-17, which says, “And he causeth all, both small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads: And that no man might buy or sell, save he that had the mark, or the name of the beast, or the number of his name.”

2 Weeks Later:

On every news station, it shows volunteers being injected with needles in order to stop a virus. Most commercials are promoting getting vaccinated and regular citizens are referring to the doctors as superheroes.

Her mother calls, saying, “Did you get vaccinated?”

Vera says, “No. I don’t want to. I’ll be fine. I have plenty of food around the house and I don’t believe in the virus anyway. If you look up videos exposing the virus as well as the numbers dropping…”

The mother interrupts, saying, “There’s people dying all over the news and you don’t believe in a virus. That sounds stupid. There’s approximately three hundred thousand people in this state, this month that died from the virus. Have someone at the hospital cough on you and I’m sure you’ll feel differently.”

The following day, which is Monday, the mother says over the phone, “Just last week, there was three hundred thousand people in this state that died from the virus. Nobody dies from cancer anymore. It’s automatically the virus. They think we’re stupid. These people are evil.”

“I’m going to visit a friend.”

“The only friend you need is the Lord. There’s no time to be messing around. I don’t think the vaccine is the mark, but it definitely has something to do with it.”

“You can’t buy or sell without the vaccine.”

“The mark has to be accepted in the right hand or forehead. You’ll know what it is when you see it.”

The videos that Vera saw online about the vaccine being the mark of the beast enters her mind (ranging from a bill currently before the House of Representatives promoting the number 666 in it, the patent for the vaccine having the numbers 666 in it, that the nose swab test is the same effects, to the Greek word pharmakeia appearing in Galatians 5:20 and Revelation 18:23, to the terms of the root word appearing in Revelation 9:21, Revelation 21:8, and Revelation 22:15 being translated into English as ‘sorcery,’ ‘witchcraft,’ and ‘sorcerer,’ to pharmakeia meaning pharmacy and pharmacist, to vaccines taking out the image of God in people, to unhealthy risks, and more).

Wearing a denim, green jacket, a pink blouse, blue culotte pants (with a white floral print), and black running shoes, Vera feeds her pets in the fish tank, then exits the house. Vera’s mom texts her about daily news events like police officers getting shot, police brutality, and mass shootings. The time is 1:00 P.M. she enters her car and drives down the street. Then, she sees Romilly being questioned (outside of her vehicle) by the same two police officers that she met. Gage is outside of the car recording the event on his cell phone, as if the device will turn into a murderous weapon. Officer Roy turns around and notices Vera driving.

It’s 2:14 P.M. and when Vera is at a pizzeria with a friend (Emanuel, who is 20-years-old, with a light blue, button-down shirt, black jeans, and black, leather dress shoes), she sees the story of Officer Stearling and Roy getting shot to death at 1:07 P.M., across the street from her. The suspects are Gage and Romilly. Emanuel looks at the television with an awkward face while taking a bite from a slice of pepperoni pizza.

“They can’t stay out of the news What was Milo thinking. I hope they catch Milo’s killers. Is it true that you were the last one to see Milo’s killers,” Emanuel says.

“I did not see Milo get killed. The last time I saw him, he was in the backseat of a car shouting his lungs out at me to get in the same car. Romilly was driving him and his friend Gage around the town, but I didn’t know where exactly they were going. They just got back from a swimming event and I just drove off because I already made up my mind. All I can do is pray for them,” she says, lowering her head toward her Holy Bible on the wooden table.

Emanuel says, “Someone took your friend’s life and you want to pray? Your prayers mean nothing.”

Gage enters the pizzeria holding a gun. The area erupts with screams. He shoots the camera, shoots the male bartender, shoots at several customers, then a waiter. Making his way to their table, he eyes Vera and aims the gun to her head.

Vera says, “You don’t want to shoot me.”

Emanuel says, “Give the man your money! You just saw what he did! He’s going to kill all of us!”

Vera says, “Put the gun down. You can still have a life. I forgive you and you can forgive yourself. In the name of Jesus…”

Gage lowers his weapon and begins crying, only to get shot by a local police officer. Emanuel says, “Thank God for that police officer.”

5 minutes later, Vera is driving a car with Emanuel in the passenger’s seat.

“Why would Gage come for specifically you,” Emanuel says.

“I don’t know, but thank God that nobody died. At first the bartender died, but that was because he choked on pizza sauce, then he rose back to life. It was amazing. The police said Gage was guilty of killing Milo.”

Suddenly, every news station talks about how citizens in their state should be vaccinated in order to buy or sell and the warning pops up as a message on their cell phones. Emanuel checks his cell phone and notices the police teaming up to shoot at any citizen on the street. Vera speeds away from the scene, crossing pass a red light at an intersection, then a bullet flies through her back window. The two friends are left unscathed.

Another alert pops up on their phone telling all citizens to stay off the street in 2 hours or the law enforcement has the right to shoot them. Police officers are going door-to-door, just to assist with vaccinating regular citizens.

Vera says, “Don’t panic. Jesus is returning.”

Emanuel says, “Maybe if I just get the shot, I wouldn’t have to run anymore. What’s the worse that can happen?”

Vera says, “You’ll be worshipping the antichrist.”

Emanuel says, “That sounds ridiculous.”

“Back at my place, I have bug out bags. We’re both going to walk in there, then flee this town.”

Emanuel says, “Is the three days of darkness really even in the Bible?”

A loud trumpet from the firmaments sound. Then, Vera disappears from the driver’s seat. Emanuel turns around, petrified. He notices at least two pedestrians vanish in front of his eyes, then the car runs into a speeding truck.

Livia’s Dugout

© July 31, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

7 in the morning, the fog wanders pass the lake 5 yards East from the tree tunnel on a Saturday. The temperature is 70 degrees Fahrenheit. There’s the arch of a rainbow visible in the sky, which nearly reaches the clouds. Sitting on the right side of the road in criss-cross applesauce, behind the trees from a tree tunnel, a 16-year-old girl (with a milk-white fascinator hat with protruding floral designs at the top, black, short wavy, bob hairstyle, red eyeliner, hazel eyes, oval, peach-colored sunglasses with light brown freckles, a vermillion tint, lip gloss over red, matte lipstick, a silver medallion, a silk, vermillion batwing top, milk-white, laced evening gloves, peach-colored, denim capri pants, and milk-white spool heels) is sitting on her buttocks with both of her legs crossed. She has exfoliated skin. Her name is Florentina Monarch and she grabs a strawberry lollipop from a bowl on a wooden bench.

Punk rock music plays from a boom box. A ladybug crawls on Florentina’s right cheek and she swats it off. While she moves out of the direction of a bee, she sees several squirrels wandering around the grassy terrains simultaneously. The chirping sounds from the lovebirds make her content. Florentina looks at her friend, Ginger, who is sitting on the back of a red pick up truck beside a half empty bottle of liquor while igniting a purple lighter. 16-year-old Ginger (a brunette with a ponytail and a black, wool baseball cap that she wears backwards) is wearing a white wife beater shirt, bluish-green and black, plaid board shorts, white socks, and black tennis shoes.

Nailed to the bark of a weeping willow tree, there’s a yellow, red, and black dart board inside of a rustic pine wood cabinet.  20 feet away, there’s a rectangular, rustic pine wood box full of red and yellow darts inside. There’s a rectangular, wooden table with a large, brown ceramic bowl full of honey barbecue chicken wings, 4 types of pizzas (cheese pizza, pepperoni pizza, sausage pizza, and homemade, margherita pizza), a large, brown, ceramic bowl full of cheese sticks, a large, brown ceramic bowl full of garlic bread, a large ceramic bowl full of salad (with boiled lettuce, boiled, diced onions, boiled olives, boiled tomatoes, boiled, diced apples, boiled broccoli, boiled, diced cucumbers, hard-boiled, diced eggs, boiled, diced avocados, croutons, shredded cheese, sunflower seeds, flax seed, and vinaigrette salad dressing), and a large, brown ceramic bowl full of sour cream potato chips, onion potato chips mixed with cheddar, and barbecue flavored potato chips. There’s a stack of paper plates, paper cups, and a transparent bag full of plastic, disposable cutlery on the right side of the table. Underneath the table is a cooler full of large 2 liter soda bottles of various flavors, 355 milliliter soda cans of various flavors, and 355 milliliter water bottles.

Ginger says, “You got a cigarette on you?”

Florentina says, “You know I don’t smoke. I left an extra pack under the candy.”

Ginger hops off the pick up truck, walks to the bowl of candy, and digs her right hand at the bottom, taking out a pack of cigarettes. She opens the pack.

“My partner in crime,” Ginger says.

Florentina says, “What if somebody catch us?”

Ginger says, “I caught you at many beauty pageants and I wasn’t worrying. I worried that I’d never get a chance to be up there. So you ditch home for a couple of hours to chill and be normal for a while. You only live once. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life trying to look perfect? Have some fun. Get your hands dirty. Eat some food.”

Florentina says, “You’re right, but my mom’s gonna kill me when I get home. What time’s Allie suppose to get here?”

Ginger says, “Just about now.”

Allie (17-years-old arrives with black crimson dreadlocks, green eyeliner, green lipstick, a silver, circular piercing on the right side of her bottom lip, a choker with studded spikes attached, a black, laced, neckline dress with long sleeved fishnet, 3 ruffled rows on her attached skirt, green stockings, and black, leather boots).

She has a red and white 15-month-old English Bulldog on a green leash and as the dog struggles to run toward Ginger’s direction, Allie says, “Ribs like you, Ginger.”

Florentina has a flashback of when she was 5-years-old, (wearing a purple winter coat, blue jeans, and brown cowgirl boots) running outside when the snow is 12 inches deep. The neighbor’s black English Bulldog chased her in the street and bit her right arm. She screamed in agony on the street with tears running down her cheeks. The dog bit her arm again in the same area and suffered from what appeared like rabies. Suddenly, a white convertible car sped down the road and ran over the dog’s back. The dog stopped biting her, making a loud yelp she’d never forget. The dog fell over as the neighbor (in his 40s with a bald head) looking out of his window in shock, dropped his newspaper. The neighbor exited his house, screaming and the driver (in his 20s with a black, low buzz cut hairstyle) exited his car in disbelief. Just inches closer and the car could’ve hit Florentina. She exits her traumatic flashback.

Ginger walks toward Ribs and pats him on his back, moaning with a smile.

Florentina’s black cell phone rings and she ignores it. Ginger and Allie eyes Florentina while Ribs stare in utter silence.

Gleefully, Allie says, “I smell momma bear worrying for daughter bear.”

Ginger says, “You’re an adult. It’s time they treat you like one.”

Florentina says with watery eyes, “They’re gonna to kill me. They’re gonna kill me.”

Ginger say, “Cherish the moment. You’ll never get this moment back. I know what’ll take you off of the edge. I brought Allie to Livia’s Dugout because I have a gift for you. You know the rules.”

After tying Rib’s leash to a nearby tree trunk where he can’t escape, Allie digs in her pocket to wipe her hands with a mini, transparent bottle of hand sanitizer. She positions the hand sanitizer on the left side of the table, grabs a slice of pepperoni pizza, bites it, and says, “Follow me.”

Ginger holds Florentina’s hand where their fingers interlock as they follow Allie into an abandoned dugout 12 yardsticks away from the table with junk food.

Ginger says, “Is that pizza good, Allie?”

Allie smirks, saying, “Fantastic. I brought the supplies with me. They’re sterilized.”

Florentina says, “Sterilized?”

Florentina walks beside Ginger, following Allie into the dugout.

Allie picks up a tattoo machine, then sits it beside Florentina.

Ginger says, “You can sit.”

Slowly, Florentina lowers her haunches, then Allie yells, “Sit!”

Florentina immediately positions her body into the seat and trembles.

Allie says, “Where do you want it?”

Florentina says, “The ink from the tattoo may seep deep into the pores of my skin and affect my immune system.”

Allie says, “How many chimney pots have you been smokin’? You’re worried like you had a baby with your mother’s babysitter for crying out loud! Where on your body? How about I do your face? It’ll keep the men from groping you in prison.”

Ginger chuckles as Florentina frowns, saying, “My right arm.”

Allie disinfects Florentina’s right arm, then grabs a stencil to press it against Florentina’s skin. Eventually, Florentina screams from the pain of the needle she sees against her skin.

2 hours later, she’s looking at her reflection (with a tattoo of a realistic, blue diamond on her right arm in a handheld mirror) that Ginger holds. Like alabaster statues smiling, Florentina and Allie smiles. Allie reveals a realistic blue diamond tattoo she has on her right arm, then Ginger lowers her handheld mirror on a stone to reveal her realistic, blue diamond tattoo.

Ginger says, “You’re one of us now.”

Allie says, “Remember the rules.”

Florentina says, “You can bet your keister I’ll remember. No boys allowed. I don’t need a boy. Boys are…”

Florentina, Ginger, and Allie then say dramatically, “Gross.”

Allie says, “When do you want to meet up again? I’ll text you all.”

Ginger says, “Perfect. We’ll be here. Ain’t that right Florentina?”

Florentina says, “No biggie.”

Allie says, “I have a better idea. Help me grab the food. We’re off to the drive-in movie theatre. Remember when I said no boys allowed?”

Florentina says, “Yeah.”

“I lied,” Allie says, then takes a sip from a large, 2 liter lime-flavored soda bottle, saying, “Earlier, I replaced the license plate for one that I made up. I gave all of us identification cards, so we have the night to ourselves.”

Ginger says, “You’ve done it big time now and I love you more for it. Let’s hit the road.”

Florentina wears a shocked face and follows Ginger and Allie to the pick up truck. Allie digs into Ginger’s right pocket to pull out black car keys, opens the back car door on the left side. Then, Allie unties the leash to Ribs, picks him up, and positions him in the back seat.

Ginger says, “I could’ve just handed you the keys.”

Allie says, “Thank you for being so nice about it.”

Ginger steps inside of the back of the truck in a seated position with 4 pizza boxes on her lap with a ceramic bowl full of cheese sticks on top. Florentina grabs a ceramic bowl full of garlic bread and a ceramic bowl full of salad to position them near Ribs, Allie’s pet. She positions all of the items from the table in the back of the car, then fits the cooler in the trunk, closes the trunk, sits in the back seat, and shuts the door. Allie then drives the pick up truck.

Allie says, “Any stops you’d like to make before we get to the theatre? Ginger? Florentina?”

Florentina says, “Call me Florist.”

Allie says, “Florist. I like that.”

Ginger says, “Florist and Ginger.”

Allie says, “And…”

Ginger says, “Allie.”

While staring at Ribs with invisible fear, Florentina says to Allie, “I’m fine. I have enough snacks right here.”

Ginger says, “You can stop by the store so that I can grab some double A batteries. The remote at home stopped working when I tried to change the channel on my little brother watching a marathon of kid shows. That’s why I keep earphones on me.”

Allie drives the car on the vacant road, speeding at 32 miles per hour. She makes a right turn at an intersection. An ocean blue car behind them arrives. Allie looks in her rear-view mirror, puckering her lips into a kissing pose after reaching for her red lipstick from the glove compartment, removing the top, and applying it to her lips. She then puts the top back on the lipstick, positions it in the glove compartment, and closes the glove compartment.

Ginger says, “Who you tryin’ to look good for?”

Allie says, “I’m going to pick up my boyfriend. Enough about him. Words can’t describe how I feel about him, so I won’t try describing him. You got that? Next topic. I can use my own house key to open up other front doors. I can open up car doors with my house key because there’s only so many shapes on a key. Creepy thought, huh? I could duplicate your key, but if I don’t feel like it and want to possibly leave my DNA in the keyhole, I’ll use my own key. Brilliant.”

Florentina says, “That’s so creepy.”

12 Minutes Later

Allie parks the pick up truck in the parking lot. Ginger opens up the right side door from the back seat, then exits, returning 5 minutes later in the pick up truck with a 12 pack of double A batteries, a red toothbrush, a pack of toothpicks, and waxed dental floss in a plastic bag. She shuts the door, then Allie drives down the road, 2 minutes away to the drive-in movie theatre where there’s many cars surrounding the area. Allie looks for a place to park, but sees just one place in the 12th row on an upper section. She parks by where there’s a blond male in his 30s (with a short, combed undercut hairstyle, a polyester, amber v-neck) smoking marijuana on the left side and on the right side, there’s a brunette in her 20s (with shaggy hair a floral black and white bandana, and a silk peach-colored spaghetti strap shirt with an 18-year-old male in the passenger’s seat (wearing a bluish-green, polyester, button-down shirt).

The movie starts. Florentina, Ginger, and Allie eat their junk food to the point of having a stomachache, littering with paper plates, paper cups, disposable utensils, and pizza boxes outside of the truck. Florentina grasps a slice of pizza from her paper plate, then bites it. Ginger exits the back side door and makes her way into the passenger’s seat, shutting the door.

Ginger says, “Allie. You said no boy’s allowed, then you said the passenger’s seat is for your boyfriend. Where’s your boyfriend at?”

Ginger turns her head toward Florentina as Ribs rest on Ginger’s lap.

Florentina makes an embarrassed expression, blushing. She exits the back seat of the car to sit on the top of the car in cross-cross applesauce, staring at the big screen, which shows the motion picture. Approximately, 2 minute later, a male in his 20s (with black cornrows, a sleeveless, cotton, orange, chambray shirt, an orange belt with silver, spiky studs attached, blue jeans, and grey tennis shoes) walks toward the truck, near the passenger’s side of the door.

Allie says, “Ginger. Amador. Amador. Ginger.”

Ginger says, “I’ll be getting out now.”

Ginger opens the door, steps out of the car, then greets Amador, “What’s up Amador!”

Amador says, “We should be going. The Pagris are fighting with the cops at the entrance.”

A concerned Allie says, “Get in the car!”

There’s several gunshots firing from the entrance. Florentina hops off the car, opening the left, back, side door. Ginger makes her way into the right, back, side door. Amador rushes into the passenger’s seat. They shut the doors at the same time while Allie drives backwards. Many people start yelling while driving away in traffic.

Over ten members of the Pagris (wearing black and red bandanas either wrapped around their forehead, wrapped around their mouth, hanging from their pocket, wrapped around a wrist, or wrapped around a pants leg) and oversized red shirts) rush nearby, jumping on cars and shooting at innocent citizens. One gang member (Jamal) with a mid bald fade and a bandana wrapped around his forehead shoots the big screen when the main character in his 20s (with bloodshot, light brown eyes) in the movie says, “I’m turning on you like you turn me on, but I feel off.”

Jamal turns his head to Florentina, then says, “Whassup, girl! Lemme’ get cha number.”

Police officers chase after the gang members, then the gang members shoot at the police officers. Many citizens are swarming and screaming and one citizen yells, “Someone’s been shot. Stop shooting!” A cop hiding behind a car gets shot in the head after looking over the hood of a gray convertible car with his pistol aimed straight. A gang member running over a car gets shot in the first thoracic vertebrae, falls to the ground, then gets his left tibia ran over by a speeding vehicle. He screams in agony. A cop behind Florentina that’s chasing after another gang member gets ran over by a speeding car.

One cop bangs on the driver’s door to Allie’s pick up truck and yells, “Get out!”

Florentina opens up the side door where Ribs hops out of the truck to bite on the officer’s right thigh. He falls to the ground, then, after 5 seconds, Ribs returns in the truck, and Florentina shuts the door. Allie drives the car backwards, heading out the entrance after traffic passes. Then, she turns the car to the opposite side, makes a right turn, and speeds ahead.

Ginger’s yellow cell phone rings and she positions it to her right ear where she hears her mother’s worried voice, saying, “Where the hell are you? You just missed breakfast. You tell me where you are right now or I’m calling the cops and this time, they’ll lock you up for good.”

Ginger says, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back before midnight.”

Ginger’s mom responds, “Ginger! You bring your…”

Ginger hangs up her cell phone, then says to everyone in the truck, “Change of plans. I can’t ever go back home.”

Softly, Florentina says, “What…”

Allie talks over Florentina, saying, “I hear crying already and we’ve just gotten this day started. My parents let me go outside all of the time ‘cuz they don’t care like that.”

Ginger says, “Thanks to my henchwoman driving us into the ground.”

Allie says, “Repeat that. I didn’t hear you.”

Amador’s eyes widen, then he gently grabs Allie’s right shoulder, saying, “She didn’t mean it.”

Allie says, “Repeat it!”

Ginger says, “I said thanks to my henchwoman driving us into the ground.”

Florentina says to Allie, “She’s not thinking straight. She doesn’t mean it.”

Allie drives the car to to 65 miles per hour, swerving pass cars and intersections, saying, “You want to see me drive you off the cliff, huh? Because I can give it to you. I can give you anything you want and that’s more than your impotent parents ever gave you.”

Ginger says, “Slow down!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me,” Allie yells, then pulls a handful of hair strands out of her hair while holding the steering wheel with her left hand.

Florentina says, “You need to slow down before you crash. Aren’t you supposed to be her boyfriend? Do something.”

Amador says, “I don’t know what to do! This bitch is crazy!”

Allie removes both of her hands from the steering wheel, then smacks Amador in the face like she’s swatting at an oversized crane fly. She then pummels him like she’s doing the windmill with her arms and Amador screams. When Allie looks in front of her, a truck is heading the opposite direction in front of her car. She steers the car to the right side as it rains.

Then Allie says, “Is everyone all right. Amador, are you okay? Ginger? Florist?”

Amador, Ginger, and Florentina remain silent for 5 seconds.

Allie says, “Answer me!”

Amador says, “We’re fine. I’m fine. Are you fine, Ginger? Florist?”

Ginger says, “Who? Me? I’m second to none. I’ve been dying for this trip my whole life.”

Florentina says, “I’m having fun.”

Allie says, “Amador. Your hands look like you rock climb with the gods, but you bite your fingernails. I see the entire package from the charming smile, chiseled body, bulky arms, then when I look at your fingernails, I just think that’s gross. Finger painting classes must’ve been a blast for you.”

Amador says, “So you want me to change?”

“Honey. Baby. I want you to get the,” Allie says, calmly, then screams, “Fuck out of my truck! This is my truck!”

Amador says, “Stop the car first.”

Allie says, “Rape! Rape!”

Ribs bark continuously.

Amador says, “I’m not raping you.”

Allie says, “Stop biting your fingernails, then maybe I’ll fuck you more often. I can’t forget about what you’re packin’. The reason you don’t have balls is because you have nut allergies.”

Amador says, “I’ll write that down. Thank you.”

Ribs then stops barking.

Allie says, “I should be thanking you for your penis size. When you tried to slip it in, I said that tickles, so I kept laughing and laughing and laughing. I know you like it when I smile, so you weren’t ashamed for your problem downstairs. That’s why we’re the perfect couple. We can have major differences and still be together.”

Amador says, “We’re…”

Allie positions her right hand up in his face and says, “Talk to the hand. When I stubbed my toe on a bed leg today, I thought of you.”

Amador says, “I’m talking to your face. You’re acting childish.”

Allie says, “La. La. La.”

Allie parks the truck near rocky mountains. Everyone steps out of the vehicle and gives an angry look at Allie. Florentina says, “I’m driving next time.”

Ginger yells with a groaning rage, “No. I’ll drive. I’ll drive as far away from home as I can, even if I have to go six feet deep!”

Allie says, “The climbing harnesses are beneath the driver’s seat. Under the passenger’s seat, you’ll find the belay devices, ropes, and helmets. If you want hiking footwear because you’re a little wimp, check the trunk. I, however, don’t need any equipment. I’ve been rock climbing for eight years in a row and won two national competitions, from the age of  eight to ten, but came in second place the last time I competed. That’s when I never performed again, but I’m here to teach you wimps how to be strong like me.”

5 Minutes Later

Everyone walk on the rocky terrains. Everyone except for Allie is wearing a black helmet, an orange climbing harness, black hiking shoes, while holding a 10.2 millimeter rope and belay device. In front of them is a 1,200 foot mountain. They put their equipment together, then climb while Allie begins climbing effortlessly up a rocky mountain without equipment. Ginger already has a bad grip on the crevices, then looks down, 12 feet below. Florentina is staring at Allie climb 5 feet ahead of her, then she climbs upward and rests after 3 minutes. Amador is exhausted staring at his girlfriend, but Amador climbs near Florentina.

While gasping for air, Amador says, “Florist. I’m breaking a sweat over here. Maybe you can ease the moment. How long have you known Allie?”

Ginger says, “Florist has to catch her breath.”

Florentina says, “You better catch up, Ginger,” then says, “For about two years now. You?”

Amador says, “Six months.”

Florentina says, “Why do you put up with her? We’re not going to just look pass how she treated you in the truck.”

Amador says, “Huh?”

Florentina says, “You know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

Amador says, “I love her. Allie and I go rock climbing three times a week and I’m still not as skilled as her.”

A nosy Ginger says, “For someone to love her so much, she sure doesn’t talk about you. Allie tells me everything.”

Amador wears a depressed face 102 feet up the mountain beside Florentina. He wants to climb down, but doesn’t want to look down.

Amador says, “I want to go down.”

Florentina says, “I’ll let your girlfriend know you’re going down.”

Amador stares down the mountain in fear and looks at the wall in a still position.

Then, Florentina says, “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”

Amador says, “Just a bit.”

Florentina says, “Just watch me. We can climb together. We won’t be up here too long. We can get over your fear together.”

10 Minutes Later

Amador laughs at a joke Florentina says and he slips, losing grip of his left arm. Ginger screams, forgetting that he’s wearing a harness.

Ginger says, “Sorry. I thought you were Allie for a moment. Don’t scare me like that.”

Allie looks down and yells, “If you want to handle a girl like me, you have to climb the mountains.”

Florentina says, “You can do better than that,” while grabbing his left arm to position him back on the mountain.

He says, “How long you’ve been working out?”

Florentina responds while swatting an ant off of her right wrist, “I don’t work out. This is my first time rock climbing.”

Finally, Ginger climbs beside Florentina and says, “What do you do when you see a bee up here?”

A worried Florentina says, “There’s a bee?”

Ginger says, “Not that I know of.”

Florentina say, “Ask the expert that’s practically flying above us.”

Ginger asks Allie, “Allie! What do you do if you see a bee while rock climbing?”

Allie responds, “Play dead!”

Ginger says, “Is that how you won your last competition?”

Allie says, “Ginger! I will stone you off this mountain if you don’t shut your gums.”

Ginger says, “Remember when you said if I sued you, then you’d give me twice the amount?”

Amador says, “Keep it down.”

Florentina says, “You’re lucky she didn’t hear you or we’d all be stoned.”

Ginger says, “Allie was born with the lifetime achievement award for food gods sake and she acts like she’s better than everyone.”

Florentina says, “I believe she is sometimes.”

It’s already been a riveting day. After 45 minutes, the group climbs up the mountain.

Allie watches everyone else remove their harnesses and says, “Look at what we have here. Could it be my lost skateboard from last week?”

She heads toward her violet skateboard and actually skates on the mountain effortlessly.

Ginger says, “How the fuck did you get a skateboard up here?”

Florentina says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Allie jumps up on the skateboard, performing a trick, speeds forward, then stops in front of them.

While pointing her finger at a large mud pool on top of the mountain they’re on, Allie says, “If you want to get dirty Florist, there’s a mud pool waiting for you.”

Florentina walks away from the edge of the mountain and so does Amador.

When Ginger walks away from the edge of the mountain after looking down from it, she says, “I wonder who’ll catch us up here.”

“We can’t just stay away. What about school, getting a job,” Florentina says.

Ginger interrupts, “The same school that push lies down our throats? I was taught that the Great Wall of China’s was visible from space, ‘I’ before ‘E,’ except after ‘C,’ that Einstein flunked math and had a learning disability…”

Allie says, “Lies. Lies. Lies. There’s lies everywhere! I have an idea. Each of you are going to shout out your problems from this mountain. Nobody can hear you, but the ones closest to you. Who’s first?”

Ginger says, “Do we have to do this?”

Allie sighs and says, “There’s no secrets between us. Since you seem talkative today, you can go first. Tell us all what’s bothering you. Look off the mountain and spit it out.”

Ginger walks to the edge of the mountain, cherishing the wind, which caresses her smooth skin. She’s hesitant to speak and looks downward.

Allie stands behind her and says, “Do you trust me? Tell us what you’re thinking.”

Ginger screams, “I’m a bad daughter! I colored on a hundred thousand dollar painting when I was ten and my parents used my college fund to pay for it! I’ve been locked up twice for driving under the influence and my parents think I’m nuts! They called the cops on me and they’re searching for me now to take me to prison!”

Amador says, “What in…”

Florentina says, “One hundred thousand dollars? Now, you’re going to need some bail money. I’ll visit you in prison.”

Allie says, “Florist. With your luck, you wouldn’t have to visit Ginger. You’d share a cell. You know your parents don’t want you out here, so you all have to stay as far away from the world as possible. You could say that I kidnapped you, but who’d believe that? Next up. Florist. Look away.”

Florentina stands on the edge of the mountain and yells, “I get…”

Allie says, “Louder! I can’t hear you.”

Florentina says, “By the age of four, every day, I was forced into child labor in India. I had no other choice, but to collect mica powder from the mines and sell it for food! I’ve seen kids die from mining where they developed respiratory problems and sometimes, the mica would fall on them while they were mining. The mica they used is what you see in beauty products! We traveled here when I turned seven! I’d get beaten on by my father! I watch him beat my mother and she’s dying slowly from the crack she obtains from her drug dealer! I watch her get raped and sometimes, I’m raped! I want to escape! My mother wants me to be a beauty queen like she always wanted! I entered several beauty pageants and was fortunate enough to win many, but every time I apply makeup on, I think about the kids and their families that are trapped in harsh environments! I try not to take any of this for granted, but I feel like a failure!”

A crying Florentina turns around and Allie hugs her.

Amador says, “Step back before you both fall.”

Ginger says, “Your turn, Amador.”

Amador stands on the edge and Allie says, “Tell the truth, babe.”

Amador says, “I don’t know where to start.”

Allie fidgets her hair with her right index finger and says, “Anywhere.”

Amador says, “I’ve failed the driver’s exam test, twice! I live in a bad neighborhood and am told to get straight ‘A’s’ in college or I’ll be grounded like the good for nothing grandson that I am because my parents died in a house fire when I was nine! I later found out that they were murder! I don’t even want to be a cognitive behavioral therapist, but I’m making my grandpa happy because it’s my dad’s dream!”

Allie says, “We have a therapist on the mountain. Tell me what do you think about Florist?”

Florentina eyes Amador in the eyes.

Amador turns around and says, “She’s a nice person.”

Allie says, “Turn around and yell it.”

Amador says, “I’m done. What’s your point?”

Allie says, “Are you in love with Florist?”

Amador walks away from the edge of the mountain, saying, “No. I barely know her. Why are you doing this to me?”

Allie pushes her boyfriend into the pool of sticky, thick mud. He falls backwards and mud splatters on the outside surface. Utter shock is etched on his face as he wipes the mud from his eyes just to open them. He rises up to see Florentina and Ginger stares at him like a circus. He then grabs Allie by the waste, picks her up, and throws her in the pool of mud.

Allie stands up with laughter and wipes the section of mud from her closed eyes with her right arm, then opens them. She then forcefully kisses Amador on the lips. The clouds turn from white to grey. It drizzles from the sky.

Amador says, “Tastes like guacamole.”

Florentina says, “There could be sharp objects in that mud.”

Ginger says, “I don’t think they care. They’d have to get hurt in order to find out.”

Florentina says, “You’re probably right. It’s going to rain. I felt a raindrop.”

Ginger says, “You wanna stay up here while it rains?”

Florentina says, “Sure. Ginger. The cops can just track your IP address. What we could do is throw out all of our electronics, then at our next destination, we can’t be tracked.”

It rains.

Allie throws her cell phone toward Ginger’s direction and says, “Get rid of my cell phone while you’re at it. It’s already wet.”

Like a football player, Amador throws his cell phone off the mountain while standing in the pool of mud. Ginger picks up Allie’s cell phone and drops it down the mountain. The long fall to the bottom is an eye opener if they fall down like a freak accident. Ginger throws her cell phone down the mountain, then grabs Florentina’s cell phone from her right hand to throw it far away, off the mountain.

Ginger says, “How will we get money?”

Florentina says, “Hey, Allie. How will we make money to live on our journey?”

Allie says, “Party pooper, I’m trying to get dirty with my boyfriend. We’ll take any money we can. We show men the goods, then get something in return. They’d be too stupid. Amador is here to protect us.”

Amador looks confused. Amador wipes a section of mud from the right side of Allie’s neck with his right hand, then as the rain washes the mud from her face to upper body, he kisses her passionately on the neck for approximately 5 minutes. Afterwards, she gets a hickey.

Allie steps out of the pool of mud and stares at Ginger. Ginger removes a bar of soap from her right pocket and deodorant from her left pocket.

Ginger says to Allie and Amador, “The two of y’all look like y’all spent the night at the world’s dirtiest cleaners.”

Allie grabs the soap and deodorant from Ginger, rests the deodorant on a stone, then opens the wrapper to the bar of soap. As the rain pours down, she washes up.

Sunday, (the following day) at 6:00 A.M., Florentina wakes up on the mountain alone. She remembers that yesterday Amador, Allie, and Ginger were on top of the mountain with her. She doesn’t remember them heading down. She looks down the mountain all across the edges, on the surface, and far in the air.

Florentina says, “Allie! Ginger! Amador!”

Startling her, “Allie, Ginger, and Amador, rise up standing from the pool of mud. Florentina screams. Allie, Ginger, and Amador laugh. It rains again.

“What the hell,” Florentina says.

2 hours later, Florentina, Ginger, Allie, and Amador make their way down the mountain with all of their equipment, walk to he truck, then get inside. This time, Ginger is in the driver’s seat while Florentina is in the passenger’s seat. Allie is beside Amador with a barking Ribs in the back seat.

Ribs is chewing on a mouthful of ice cubes from the cooler in the trunk, but is in the back of the truck. The cooler is still in the trunk.

Ginger drives on the road and says, “Any stores you wanna stop by? How about we go to the theme park? That’s where fear is airborne.”

Florentina says, “I hate roller coasters.”

Allie says, “Last one to the theme park is a rotten egg.”

Amador says, “That’s in about two hours after everyone gets out the truck.”

2 Hour Later

Allie slowly pours water into Ribs mouth for him to drink from a bottle. She then steps out of the truck where Amador, Ginger, and Florentina are. Allie spits on the ground, then says, “On three, two…”

Before Allie could say one, Ginger, Florentina, and Amador runs ahead. Allie chases after them yelling, “Hey! Get back here!” Florentina laughs when she should be saving her laughter. Allie passes up Florentina, then Ginger. Amador nearly loses his balance from the crooked sidewalk and dodges a pointy tree branch on the left side after running pass several vehicles. Allie passes Amador. Eventually, Florentina, Ginger, Amador, and Allie meet up at the same spot.

Allie notices a missing poster taped on a tree with her face among with Florentina, Ginger, and Amador.

“We got trouble,” Allie says as she stares at the poster.

Florentina looks at it and panics, “Oh, no. My mom’s going to kill me.”

Allie says, “If I was your mom, I’d think you’re already dead. There’s no way you’d survive being kidnapped for real.”

Florentina positions both of her hands on her hips, saying, “I so could.”

Amador and Ginger look at the poster.

Amador says, “Oh. I need to get back.”

Allie looks at Amador and says, “Are your parents going to kill you too? What about you Ginger? If you all don’t keep it together, I’ll kill all of y’all.”

Amador says, “What if a real killer comes around.”

Squinting her eyes, Allie yells, “A real killer? I’ll show you a real killer,” then strikes against Amador body as he moves backwards, then she strikes his back when he turns around.

Florentina sighs.

Ginger and Florentina removes Allie from her boyfriend, then Ginger says, “Let’s just enjoy the time we have.”

Allie says, “I was gone. I told you all I wouldn’t take it easy on y’all. I didn’t either.”

Ginger laughs and says, “How will we meet up if we get lost?”

“We’ll just have to stick together,” Allie says as she walks toward a crowded line. After the line gets shorter and they pass metal detectors after showing their identification cards, they walk toward a line. They get on approximately 9 roller coasters after 10-20 minute line waits. In one line they wait in, Ginger says, “These lines used to be forty-five to an hour long, but they’re short because everyone is waiting on that new one.”

In front of Allie in the line is a shocker. She’s an 18-year-old brunette with an Afro combing her hair (wearing a green, nerdy, anime shirt, blue jeans, and grey shoes) and turns around. The brunette is holding a muscular 18-year-old male’s hand by the name of Datu (wearing a white shirt of a superhero, yellow, shorts made out of jeans, and black tennis shoes).

Allie attempts to turn her head to hide her face. She refuses to be seen by who is in her presence. Allie then turns her entire body around and says, “I think we should get on another ride.”

Ginger says, “We’re almost there.”

Lada forms an overly excited expression, jumps up and down, then screams.

Lada says, “I know that voice from anywhere! Allie! I can’t believe you’re at the same place! I’ve known her for years. We used to do rock climbing together years ago. Allie was my mentor and won the national contest two years in a row until I finally beat her the third time around. Ever since my win, I’ve went on to getting two jobs…”

Lada continues talking and it’s like an alien language to Allie (to the point that Allie’s eyes look like she’s a couch potato sleeping with a loaded water gun), but Florentina, Ginger, and Amador are fascinated. Allie is ready to fall over from the scintillating sun relentlessly pressing heat against her skin.

Allie says, “You know what. I’m feeling kind of sick from all of that food I ate earlier. I think I’ll wait until you all get off the ride out of the line.”

Lada says, “We can keep you company. That’s what friends are for.”

Allie says, “No. No. No. I wouldn’t want to ruin the fun you all get to experience together.”

Datu says, “Are you chicken?”

Allie says, “No way. I’m feeling better now. I’m up for the ride.”

Eventually, they get on the roller coaster and everyone except for Florentina screams when it starts. There’s two seats on each side and twelve rows on the roller coaster. Allie is sitting in the front row with Amador. Florentina is sitting in the second row with Ginger. Lada is sitting in the third row with Datu.

When the one-of-a-kind roller coaster heads up slowly approximately 90 feet high at a 45 degree angle, then makes a breathtaking drop, they scream. Louder, they scream, when the roller coaster speeds into two loops underground, in a spiral slightly above a lake. Everyone’s heart is racing. The wind blows hard against their faces. After the roller coaster, Florentina rises out of her seat to exit the area. Florentina rushes to the water fountain and drinks water, then Ginger rushes by to drink from it afterwards.

Lada points at a rock climbing wall nearby, then says, “Allie, what do you say we do this like old times.”

Allie says, “It’s been a long day and I’ve just got done climbing down a mountain.”

Lada says, “Please don’t tell me you’re wussing out in front of all of your friends.”

Ginger says, “And her boyfriend.”

Lada says, “Oh. Your boyfriend. I’m forever grateful to meet your boyfriend,” Lada gives a smile at Amador, then says, “Meet me there.”

Florentina says, “She’ll be there.”

Lada and her boyfriend walks away after passionately kissing each other on the lips, but as they kissed, Allie made a face of disgust.

Ginger faces Allie and says, “My ass is sore from climbing down that mountain. Are you sure you want to compete again?”

“If I lose, then I’m not Allie,” Allie says.

Florentina says, “That’s not fair. I didn’t see whatever her name is climbing down a mountain earlier.”

Allie says, “It’s nothing. Game on.”

Datu watches Lada make her way near the rock climbing wall. A crowd surrounds her as many people get excited, recording her with their cell phones. A host with a megaphone says, “Is that who I think it is? Lada Pamplona, the only Sunner’s National Rock Climbing Champion to defeat Allie!”

Lada makes an unethical comment, “I challenge anyone to put their money where their mouth is!”

Allie jolts her way through the crowd, facing Lada. The crowd cheers. More cell phones rise in the air. Florentina, Ginger, Amador, and Datu stare at the event from a distance. All attention would be on Allie and Lada even if there’s a tornado watch after 5 consecutive tornados in the same area.

The host speaks on the megaphone, saying, “We have ourselves an unexpected flashback! Make some noise!”

Allie puts on a harness and let’s someone set up the equipment while she glances at the crowd, seeing Florentina, Ginger, and Amador cheering. Datu is giving her a glare. Across from Allie, Lada puts a harness on and let’s someone set up the equipment for her. It’s a 50 foot rock climbing wall and Allie (on the right side) and Lada (on the left side) look at the top of the wall on their destination at the same time.

The host says, “Someone, give me my extra spare of glasses because we’re about to witness a show tonight. Here’s the rules. When you hear a whistle, you climb on your side to the top. The winner gets five hundred dollars.”

The host blows the whistle and Allie and Lada rush to the wall. The crowd gets louder. Allie has a sore neck, but still climbs up the mountain with ease. She’s using a lot of energy, but notices Lada isn’t breathing as hard and is already 9 feet up the wall. Allie finds the energy to continue.

The host says, “This is going to be close!”

Ginger yells, “Come on, Allie!”

At one point, Lada climbs higher than Allie, then Allie climbs higher than Lada. Eventually, Allie makes her way to the top first. She nearly cries while looking at the crowd, raises her right hand up screaming, then makes her way down the rock climbing wall. When Lada makes her way down the wall, she approaches Allie.

Ginger says, “You did it!”

When the host hands Allie the money, she smiles, slowly taking it from his hand. The moment the money is away from his grip, she moves it swiftly towards her as if though she snatched it.

Florentina, Ginger, and Amador rush to hug Allie in a celebratory fashion. Datu pats Lada on the back, then Lada walks up to Allie to extend her right hand out of good sportsmanship. While the crowd continues recording the event, Allie says, “I beat you fair and square and there’s nothing you can do about it! When I injured my hip on my third go, I still competed and you only won because you cheated by taking a shortcut! My fiasco is no more! I follow directions on the rock climber’s map! You can’t bug me about about it anymore! When I look at myself in the mirror, I’ll remember myself finally taking back my title as the best! Earlier, I climbed down an entire mountain and you dared to compete with me!”

Lada looks at the crowd in embarrassment as Datu says, “What’s your problem?”

Lada holds her stomach and water falls from her stomach down to the concrete ground. Datu looks surprised.

The host says, “Somebody get help!”

Lada says, “My water broke!”

Allie immediately leaves the scene. Amador, Ginger, and Florentina follows her.

Allie says, “Some of the bitch! Even when I win, I still don’t win. She’s always taking attention away from me.”

Florentina says, “I know what’ll make you feel better.”

Allie says, “Shut up. Not now, Florist.”

Monday

It’s 5:00 A.M. Florentina is in a tent in criss-cross applesauce with a silver compass around her neck. She’s wearing a denim princess vest with black and orange cub spots on it over a black, laced bra, white jeans, and black sandals. Next to Florentina is Ginger (wearing a bluish-green, polyester t-shirt, yellow, denim shorts, and black tennis shoes). Outside of the tent is Allie (wearing a silk, beige camisole, red bell-bottom jeans, and black tennis shoes) smoking a cigarette with Amador (wearing a red sweatshirt, blue, denim pants, and black tennis shoes).

Florentina says to Ginger, “I can’t believe we just left that woman fighting for her life.”

Ginger bites her upper lip as Allie says, “There’s hundreds of people that could help her. I’m not a doctor? Are you? I decided not to help, decreasing the population and let the experts handle it. That left more air for her to breathe without four people hogging it.”

Florentina says, “You could’ve called a doctor.”

Allie says, “If you wanted to do something so much, why didn’t you?”

Ginger says, “Good question.”

Amador says, “Because we broke are phones.”

Allie says, “That’s right.”

Ribs bumps his head against Amador’s left leg, then rushes in the tent to lick Florentina. Ginger laughs and steps out of the tent, walking toward a campfire she picks up a twig, places a marshmallow on the end, places it in the fire until there’s burn marks, then eats the marshmallow. Then Ginger drops the twig. Florentina exits the tent and walks pass several trees.

Ginger says, “What time is it?”

Florentina shrugs her shoulders. Ginger follows her.

Allie says, “Where you goin’?”

Amador follows Allie (who follows Florentina). To her surprise, Florentina spots a trailer nearby, then extends her index finger. Ginger, Allie, and Amador notices the trailer. She looks around in the bushes and sees Ribs humping her again. When she screams, a male in his 40s (a red baseball cap, white wife beater shirt with beer stains, blue jeans, and black hiking boots) exit the trailer with a loaded shotgun. A 10-month-old, fawn, female English Bulldog exits the trailer, then Ribs rush out the woods and mates the female dog.

Allie yells while heading out the bushes, “Ribs, get back over here!”

The worried male in his 40s aims his shotgun at her, then says, “Lil’ girl. What in the flippin’ cock fuck are you doin’ out here? I suggest you get your beast off my princess or there’ll be a problem.”

Allie says, “Lower your gun or there’ll be a problem.”

The male lowers his gun, then says, “I think I know you from somewhere.”

Allie says, “Rehab. I remember singing for alcoholics on career day, but you wanted to sing the second verse and you broke the microphone with your vocal cords.”

She grabs Ribs, then the man says, “Where are your parents, lil’ girl? It can get dangerous ‘round here.”

Allie says, “They’re minding their own fuckin’ business like you should old man!”

The man picks up a beer bottle and drinks from it, laughing. Some beer spills on his shirt. He spits on the ground, then tosses the empty bottle over the trailer. Afterwards, he grabs his crotch gently.

Allie says, “I should get going now.”

Ginger exits the bushes and says, “You leave her alone! I just called the backup and they should be over here right now!”

The man smiles and says, “The cops ain’t been ‘round here in ages.”

He loses his balance and nearly crashes into the trailer, but Florentina snatches the weapon from behind him. He turns around shocked.

He says, “Do you even know how to use a gun?”

Florentina shoots the man’s pet, then runs toward Allie, and passes it to her. Allie aims it at the man’s crotch. Then Amador rushes out of the bushes to tackle the old man to the ground. Amador strikes the man in the face 7 times where he’s left unconscious. The pervert has a bloody right nostril.

Allie says, “It’s about time.”

When Amador rises and moves away from the pervert, Allie shoots the pervert in the crotch with the shotgun. Blood splatters across the pervert’s pants and on the dirt as he wakes up screaming like he swallowed a burning syringe. Ginger takes the weapon from Allie in case she wanted to shoot the pervert again. Allie snatches the weapon back, then rushes toward the pervert to aim the gun at his forehead.

The pervert says after choking, “Please.”

Amador says, “Please, shoot him.”

Ginger says, “Let’s Just get out of here before we get caught.”

Amador says, “He’ll try to kill us if we don’t kill him. We have to kill this pervert.”

Florentina says, “Let’s just keep the gun and drive away. Come on.”

Allie says, “What do you take me for,” then shoots the pervert in the head.

Blood splatters across the dirt. Florentina covers her eyes and turns around, then vomits. Her vomit appear to look like blended soda, potato chips, and sausages. Ginger then takes the gun from her friend and Amador grabs Allie by her waist.

Allie snaps her finger, saying, “Grab his wallet.”

Finally, Amador turns the body over where the dead body is in a prone position, then grabs a black wallet from the right, back pocket. He looks at the wallet and on the identification card, his name is Grey Waffers. “Mister Waffers,” Amador says, then takes three hundred and twenty one dollars in cash. He passes the identification card to Allie, then after Allie looks, Allie passes it to Florentina, then Florentina extend it to Ginger. Ginger stands with trauma, saying, “Waffers is my last name. I never met my real dad before.” Amador turns around with shock and Allie (wearing a puzzled expression) thinks it’s the end of her friendship.

Ginger can’t seem to stop shaking and it’s not cold outside. It’s 86 degrees Fahrenheit. Florentina says, “I’m so sorry.” Amador says, “Let’s go look inside the trailer.” Allie smacks Amador in the back of the head, then says, “How do you know if that’s your real father. There’s many people with Waffers as their last name.”

Ginger says, “Like who?”

Amador says, “Point taken. I love you all. It’s been quite the adventure, but I think it’s time for me to head home.”

Allie says, “And just where the hell are you going without the keys?”

Ginger grabs the identification card and says, “Mom always described him as broke with a hooker living in a trailer.”

Amador says, “He don’t look broke to me.”

Ginger says, “I think he found a job.”

“What job does he have now,” Amador says with sarcasm.

Ginger says, “My friends killed my father.”

Florentina says, “Wait. I never pulled the trigger. I took the firearm away from the man who was about to rape Allie.”

Ginger frowns at Florentina with tears running down her cheeks and strikes her across the right cheek. Florentina falls backwards, then rises up in shock.

“You gave her the gun,” Ginger says, then looks at Allie, saying, “And you!”

Amador blocks Ginger from getting near Allie. Allie says, “Calm down. I’m sure there’s a better way we can find out if the rapist I shot was your father!”

Amador says, “Volume. Let’s just head in the trailer. Ginger, if you see anything that proves he’s your father, we’ll call the cops.”

Allie says, “I’m not going to prison for a rapist. Are you fucking nuts?”

Amador says, “Me and Florentina will keep an eye out while you and Ginger head inside. I’ll drag the body in the trailer instead.”

“Your fingerprints will be on it,” Allie says.

“I’ll burn the trailer,” Amador says.

Allie heads in the trailer and Ginger follows her.

Amador remains outside with Florentina.

Amador says to Florentina, “You okay?”

Florentina responds, “My face is fine. Thank you.”

Allie and Ginger look around. The driver’s seat is empty. The place is cluttered with clothes, beer bottles, newspapers, and construction papers on a mattress. Allie opens up the top drawer to the mahogany dresser and sees folded underwear. There’s an opened condom wrapper left on the far right corner of the mattress.

Allie says, “It smells in here.”

Allie turns on a vintage black television and the news is on. The anchorman reports information about a gang initiation shooting that occurred in traffic and says the names of the deceased victims. Both of the victims turn out to be Ginger’s mom and dad (Gelsomina and Franko) back at home. Ginger stares at the television screen in horror. Allie’s jaw drops like never before.

Matters worsen when Ginger sees a small 4” X 6” picture in a silver picture frame (with Grey Waffers in a black dress suit and black dress pants with his right arm around the neck of Gelsomina, with a short, straight, blue hair, a silk, purple, backless dress, and black, high heels). She grabs the picture and moves it closer to her eyes while nervously shaking her hand. Allie watches her best friend cry in the trailer home. Unknowing what to do, Allie hugs Ginger.

The door opens and it’s Amador dragging the deadweight of Grey. He somehow picks part of the body up (and positions the dead body in the driver’s seat with his chest touching his knees where his head is below the steering wheel). Florentina continuously grabs leaves to cover up the blood of Grey outside, then picks up the dead pet to place inside the trailer and walk outside to cover up the pet’s blood.

Amador says, “Me and Ginger are going to walk back to the car. You all can decide on if you’ll burn the place down or not.”

When Florentina looks at Ribs, Ribs wears an unusual face of depression.

1 Hour Later

Florentina is in the back seat of the truck on the left side with Ginger and Ribs. Amador is in the driver’s seat and Allie is in the passenger’s seat.

Florentina says, “I can’t believe you killed him.”

Allie turns around, saying, “Shut up! Shut it! I saved our asses from being stuck in a trailer like how you were made! Why’d you pass me the fucking gun if you knew I’d shoot him?”

Ginger says, “We have to go back. It’s hard to make a shotgun shooting look like a suicide, especially if Allie shot the man from a distance. We’re going to get caught.”

Florentina says, “We should say something. Somebody should take the blame.”

Allie says, “If we go back, then somebody will spot us. Just calm down. I already burned down the trailer while you left, so we don’t have to go back.”

Ginger yells, “What! No!”

25 Minutes Later

Allie knocks on the passenger’s window to the truck. Amador lowers the window.

Allie says, “Ginger is just sitting down staring at the trailer crying. I keep telling her to get up, but she won’t. We told locals that there’s a burning trailer, then they called the fire department, so everything should be settled. She was sitting down for like ten minutes. She has to get up and go before she looks suspicious.”

Ginger rises up after looking at the trailer being burnt down, still hiding behind bushes. Her tears block her vision. She struggles pretending that the death of her biological father is just a horrible nightmare, but the wisps of smoke traveling into her nostrils tell her otherwise. It’s all too real for her, but she slowly walks back to the pick up truck.

Amador says, “We have to leave her.”

Allie says, “I can’t just leave my best friend.”

Ginger walks behind Allie, then says, “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here for the night if that’s fine.”

Allie says, “Sure. Florist, are you okay with staying in a tent with my boyfriend tonight?”

Florentina remains silent and nods her head up and down.

6:00 P.M.

The sky is dark. With her knees slightly bent in a 45 degree angle, Allie is sitting upward in a green tent with a loaded shotgun on the right side of her. Ginger also has her knees slightly bent in a 45 degree angle while she’s sitting upward. Ginger grabs a flashlight and aims it into Allie’s eyes. Allie moves her face out of the way while covering her eyes.

Allie says, “That flashlight is so bright!”

Ginger giggles.

Allie says, “It is. I guess I deserve that. You’ve been aiming the light at me all day and my eyes hurt. Just stop before you run out of batteries.“

Like she ate a paper cut, Ginger says, “I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Allie says, “I know it’s tough and I can be mean, but I didn’t mean to…”

Ginger says, “It wasn’t your fault. I think I should apologize to Florentina.”

Allie says, “That’ll be your second time today. You’ve already apologized.”

Ginger says, “I know. I just can’t live with myself if I go back home, get stuck in the slammer, and not think about what I could’ve done to make things better in my life.”

“Start off by not aiming that damn flashlight in my eyes,” Allie says out of frustration.

Meanwhile, Florentina is talking with a shirtless Amador in the tent. There’s a silver, bright lamp in front of them.

Florentina says, “I’m not gonna be able to sleep.”

Amador says, “You ain’t wrong… and you ain’t right. As far as I’m around, this day never happened.”

Ginger talks to Florentina from outside of the tent, “Allie, I just wanted to say I’m sorry for how I treated you earlier. We’re still girls, right?”

Florentina extends her head out the tent, then says, “You’re fine, girl. Get some rest.”

Florentina puts her head back in the tent when Ginger walks away and says, “Nighty night.”

Florentina says, “Night. Wait. Are you sure Allie wants me to sleep in the same tent with Amador?”

Ginger turns around and says, “Allie is knocked out. She drank five beers, then the next thing I know, she fell asleep. I think you’re fine for tonight.”

Florentina says, “Just checkin’.”

Amador whispers, “It’s been a long day. We should get some rest.”

Florentina whispers to Amador, “I can’t believe we’re sleepin’ together.”

Amador can’t help but look at Florentina’s natural beauty.

He whispers, “It’s a sleepover. I’ll get the light.”

Florentina whispers, “I got it,” turning off the lamp, then resting near him, saying, “Do you like her more than me?”

Amador’s eyes widen and he whispers, “Huh? What makes you say that?”

After removing her black sandals and compass, Florentina removes her white jeans, and princess vest.

She whispers, “Do you like me or Allie?”

Amador pauses and whispers, “You know I love Allie. I’ve been seeing her for a while now and things are getting serious between us.”

She responds, whispering, “Show me,” then grabs his right hand and moves it toward her right bosom after she loosens her black, laced bra. Amador slowly removes his hand and moves his head backwards in awe.

“It’s okay,” she whispers.

Her body stimulates him. She positions both of his hands on her bosoms.

He gropes on her bosoms, positions her legs around his waist, then kisses him in the dark.

She whispers, “This night never happened.”

5 Minutes Later

Both, Florentina and Amador are naked. Florentina is mounting Amador and she moves up and down in utter exhilaration, only to see a large shadow occur outside of the tent.

She whispers, “I think I saw something outside.”

He whispers, “Finish first.”

There’s bear’s roar coming from outside of the tent. Florentina turns on the lamp and sees the giant bear outside of the tent. She screams. Ginger and Allie wake up and see the bear from outside their tent. Allie grabs the shotgun, rushes outside the tent, then aims it at the bear, shooting it four times.

Florentina is busy putting on her bra and pantyhose while Amador panics, slipping on his blue, denim pants, red sweatshirt, and black tennis shoes.

Allie says, “Babe, are you okay? There’s a bear around here.”

As Amador’s heart races, he says, “I’m better that you saved my life. That bear would’ve killed me in my sleep if Allie didn’t scream so loud.”

Allie says, “She’s a screamer.”

Amador whispers, “Talk about it.”

Florentina nudge Amador on the left shoulder.

“She even cries during tearjerker films,” Allie says, “It looks like we have breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

Amador exits the tent, then looks at the dead bear on the ground. “Where’d you learn to shoot like that,” he says. Allie notices a bulge in his pants. He rushes toward her, then she glances down at his crotch. He stops his movement, then Allie says, “Gross. Are you hard?”

He says, “I woke up hard.”

Ginger exits the tent rubbing her eyes, then removing her hands.

Ginger says, “Are you all done talking to the bear because I’m ready for some sleep.”

Allie aims the gun at Amador and says, “Were you fucking Florist?”

Florentina says, “What’s gotten into you, Allie? I’m your friend!”

Amador says, “What? No way. Why would you accuse me of something like that? Florist was just telling me about Livia’s Dugout earlier, I said how interesting it’d be to get a tattoo, but there’s no boy’s allowed. We went asleep, then heard a noise. That’s when you came to the rescue and shot the bear.”

Allie weeps and hugs Amador, saying, “I’m so sorry. I’m just not sure if I deserve you at times.”

As Amador looks in front of him while hugging his girlfriend, he sees Ginger giving him an unforgiving look of knowledge. Amador then looks guilty when he sees Ginger’s face, but he changes his face after he stops hugging Allie.

Allie says, “We have to get out of here. The firefighters could’ve reported Ginger to the feds if they were paying attention.”

Ginger says, “When my father died, the news never reported it. I didn’t see any camera crew around. There were no helicopters.”

Allie says, “True, but…”

Florentina says, “But they did report the parents that raised you.”

Ginger says, “They didn’t say they had a sweet daughter.”

Florentina sees several police cars and a fire truck speed down the road. There’s several vans from different news stations speeding around.

Allie says, “You wanna check it out?”

Ginger says, “Why not?”

Ginger, Allie, Florentina, and Amador head back toward the trailer, then hide in the bushes. A camera crew from various stations step out of vans. Armed police officers guard the area, then several firefighters set the trailer on fire after pouring gasoline over it.

The female reporter talks, “A thirty-nine-year-old male (Grey Waffers) two miles west on Dugout Road was killed by one simple mistake of leaving his stove turn on.”

Ginger whispers, “Let’s go.”

Thy Hubris

© Dec. 1, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

It all occurred one year ago, 72 minutes before sunrise in a rustic graveyard. This eerie environment was like the bearer of thunderstorms. A thunderstorm occurred a couple of seconds after it was drizzling, and it was drizzling outside for approximately 10 minutes. It was pouring rain and an anonymous male was soaked and wet. He wore a black knitted beanie, a black ski mask, black leather, unbuttoned trench coat over a black t-shirt, a black, leather belt with studded spikes, blue jeans, and tawny, suede hunting boots. His partner in crime was a female dressed in all black attire; she wore a black beanie as well, black face paint, a zipped up, black hooded, leather jacket, black jeans, and black ankle boots.

It was their Valentine’s Day and quite possibly the most explosive night of their lives. While staring at a tombstone of Claudia Ampitini (who was born in 1814 and died in 1846 with a question mark at the end due to her case of being kidnapped and unfound), earth worms pop out of the ferruginous mud, which is mixed with gold sand. One thing is for sure, Claudia is deceased now. Her epitaph read, “You’re in a better place now and will never be forgotten.” His partner in crime passed him a silver shovel while she firmly held a black one in her right hand.

He said, “It freezing out here. Hurry up and help me dig.” “You’re the boss,” she said.

Both him and her began digging, removing dirt from the surface as gales blew the dirt the opposite direction. Facing away from the wind with squinted eyes, he eyed at his partner in crime from his peripheral vision. Ironically, she chuckled finding humor in the most odd moment.

“Have any fears,” he asked.

While proceeding to dig, she said, “Since you asked so politely, sir. I have astrapophobia. It’s the fear of lightning. Whenever I heard thunder, I’d always accompany my parents while they were asleep.”

Ironically, the conversation didn’t go as expected, so he said, “You have a calm demeanor to be afraid of lightning. You’re pulling my leg, right about now.”

She said, “I’m sober. I cross my heart…” 

He interrupted, “And hope to die.”

1 hour and 35 minutes pass by and they both unearthed evidence of a black casket. Grime is now covered on their clothes.

“Alright, we did it,” she shouted.

 “Sssshhh,” he signaled for her to be silent, then grabbed a custom-made, rectangular device, which is beside a red claw hammer from out of a black, leather duffle bag. His partner opened the casket wide, which left him room to throw the device inside. Thus, she closed the casket. They placed their shovels inside the duffle bag. He zipped up the bag, carried it, then they both ran away toward a black pickup truck as an explosion occurred at the gravesite.

After tossing the duffle bag in the back seat, he entered the driver’s seat while his partner lowered her haunches in the passenger’s seat. They both closed the front doors together. He inserted his car key into the ignition, moved the gearstick to “Neutral” position, twisted the ignition key to the car, put his foot on the (accelerator) gas pedal, then drove the vehicle at 60 miles per hour. Gradually, he turned the steering wheel to the right while speeding down the gloomy road.

45 Minutes Later

Gleefully, she poses with a black, laced bra in her right hand.

“We’re returning that,” he says.

She says, “Since when did you become a good guy? You wouldn’t rat me out.”

After sucking away the forensic evidence of sweetness from his sore neck, she left him a hickey, while whispering in his sensitive ears as if her breaths give life to trees. Her ethereal voice was like a maestro, which can cease a thousand outbursts and salve a thousand more wounds. Her words were the following: “You return this bra, then you return me.” He certainly didn’t want to return her.

1 Year Later

In the depths of a gloomy basement where gossamer webs multiply, there’s blood stains on the deteriorated, plaster wall as well as the cracked, white, undusted tiled floor. It’s a grueling place where hope lingers and Satan is perfectly content. Questions are to be permanently forgotten, for the relentlessly excruciating pain placed upon the innocent victims is too much to bear. The temperature has to be approximately 145 degrees, which causes perspiration, dehydration, fatigue, lightheadedness, confusion, slurred speech, hallucinations, and last but not least, overheating. Besides the bodies cooking in the basement, there’s the awful, repugnant, yet distinct smell of blood and toxic waste mixed with burning sulfur. Males and females add an unforgettable, shrilling scream till their last breath.

From a bird’s eye view, his view departs. His eyes widen like the sea, then he darts his head toward his buddy (Sadie) sitting slumped down on a black, leather couch with two bags of quality marijuana resting on her belly. On the rectangular, glass table in the living room, beside a milk-white paper plate with several onion bhajis, there’s a heart-shaped box of chocolates with chocolate-covered strawberries, and truffles ranging from caramel-covered truffles, dark chocolate truffles, white chocolate truffles, milk chocolate truffles, couverture chocolate truffles, and cream chocolate truffles. Beside the box of chocolates is an ashtray with a cigarette in it and a thin, handcrafted wine glass, which is half full of sweet red wine.

He sits here, eyeing his friend who everyone seems to think he’s in a romantic relationship with, but they both say it’s simply platonic. At the mutual age of 21-years-old, he’s known Sadie ever since he was in kindergarten boarding school in Sana’a, Yemen, smacking two used chalkboard erasers together at the speed of light, while she would color in her coloring book. As other pupils watched, the first words he ever said to her was, “Where you from” as if all girls are from another planet. Maybe she was from another planet, but it’s also possible that she wasn’t born in the same state. Already, he knew how to start a conversation with a girl.

Perhaps now, she wants to suck on his friend’s tobacco penis just to receive more narcotics for a quick sense of relief. Such a wild occurrence may make him want a freak accident to happen to her. What if one morning, they walk down the road and he pushes her from behind as a scare tactic, which causes her right pupil to snap a branch that was durable for 3 years? 

He heads to the immaculate bathroom, opening up the bottom, mahogany drawer where there’s a bluish-green opened box of cotton swabs, a small ocean blue box of baking soda, a neon green can of shaving cream, a white, transparent bottle of hydrogen peroxide, a white, multi-purpose, anti-bacterial bathroom cleaner spray can, a four stacked rows of folded new, white towels, an orange, large box of steel, wool soap pads, a purple blow dryer, black hair clippers, and several rows of toilet paper. After utilizing the silver soap dispenser and turning on the hot water, he grabs a white towel, facing the mirror temporarily. He then opens up the medicine cabinet, (which is full of cosmetics) taking out an orange, transparent pill capsule full of pills. Parallel to the toilet is a magazine rack that’s above a detachable, wall-mounted, white dresser, a wall-mounted, stainless, silver dry towel rack with several, white, dry towels, beside a roll of toilet paper on a toilet paper holder, a small, stainless, silver trash bin, and sepia brown shower curtains. 

Alone, he walks on the balcony and sits on a brown, wool hammock with a handgun pressed to the right side of his cranium. He pulls the trigger, shooting himself, dead. Blood splatters on the patio doors. His best friend turns around, utterly stunned. She makes a shrieking scream. 

Ms. Mild’s House

© June 1, 2018. All Rights Reserved

Whenever the caressing wind blows, the same routine begins. The rustling leaves aimlessly wander. The scintillating sun seems non-existent. From dusk till dawn, there’s only the moon in the eerie, black firmanents, but that was a folklore, which now may be a myth. Sebastian, an 18-year-old in a black and bluish-green mail truck hand delivers a heavy package, which is 14 inches in height and 11 inches in width to a blond occupant (with long, curly hair, ocean blue eyes, black eyeliner, a stainless, golden necklace, of a crucifix, blue overalls made out of jean material, which is over her red laced bra. She has a stainless, golden watch on her right wrist, and 3 stainless golden bangles on her left wrist. 

Miss Mild says, “You made it. Let me help you with that package, hun. Step inside anytime, so you can make yourself at home. First day on the job?” 

With a sore neck, Sebastian hands the package to Miss Mild, saying, “How’d you guess? I could be a thief. Why would you trust me in your home? You don’t even know me.”

Miss Mild proceeds walking, then smiles, saying, “Because I trust all of my friends. Everyone is my friend. I treat everyone the way I’d love to be treated. I’m Miss Mild and you are?”

“Sebastian,” he says.

“Would you like a meal, hun?” How about a hot cup of coffee,” she offers. 

With a silver remote control, Miss Mild then turns on the black-flat-screen television, which is hung on the peach-colored plaster wall. 

A comedy host wearing an all white business suit says, “Today’s forecast is going to be mostly cloudy with a forty percent chance of bullshit!” 

Sebastian says, “No thank you. Your company is enough. You’re too sweet.” 

Miss Mild says, “Are you okay?” 

Sebastian responds, “Yes. It’s real nice of you to offer me to stay. Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I have a job to get back to doing.” 

Miss Mild walks closer, saying, “My children are always trying to impress momma! Before you go, I wanna ask you something.” 

Sebastian says with curiosity, “Tell me.” 

Miss Mild rests her right hand on his forehead, which soothes his entire body magically, also eliminating his sore neck. 

She then says, “Better?” 

“How’d you do that,” he questions. 

She says, “You ask too many questions. Time is non-existent. Look at your watch, look at the clock. Tell me what time it is, hun. Sebastian looks at his silver watch on his right wrist and there’s no minute hand nor an hour hand. He peers at a digital alarm clock on the kitchen counter, seeing numbers. 

“Why aren’t there numbers,” he asks.

“When you find out what time, return,” she says. 

He says, “Miss Mild, thank you for your company. Enjoy yourself. Bye.” 

When he leaves her house and enters the mail truck, a loud bell tower makes a “gong” sound seven times. Miss Mild opens the burgundy curtains from the living room, staring at him with an ominous smile. The time in the truck reads, “7:00 A.M,” then decreases to “3:00 A.M.” Thus, the bell makes a gong sound three times. Immediately, Sebastian drives away. 

Mylonite and Tomorrow

© Jan. 21, 2018. All Rights Reserved.

Pinch me. On my noteworthy journey, I see a trampoline on a rooftop, two-story building where a cage surrounds the upper section to protect participants from falling to their promising death. I’m across the street, walking on the sidewalk with black binoculars wrapped around my neck, a black and white, long-sleeved, zipped up, plaid jacket, a black, leather belt with silver studs, tattered, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes. I’m holding a camcorder where I record the aesthetic buildings, only to see two strangers kissing.

Needless to say, I’m marginalized like a piece of gelatin. People of all shapes and sizes appear happy and I remember them like the latest facial recognition software. Even the few little people I see around city appear happy, holding hands with someone near and dear. Like my parents, grandparents, great grandparents, great, great grandparents, and down the entire ancestor bloodline, they’ll eventually get into a scuffle and that’s the end of the story. It’s no different and why should I stand out from the competition?

I’ve seen my love read, write, and speak fluently in two different languages, formally and informally. A prolific reader, she is, reading a dozen stories within twelve, astounding seconds, unconsciously write with perfect grammar, sentence structures, and storytelling, which exceeds the planet’s expectations, and effectively speak slang, just as much as she can read and write in cursive. Rumor has it that she can speak in every language known to humankind, including the lost ones, for she often uses archaic words nobody comprehends at the end of her intellectual conversations. Like pure poetry, a single word she may utter articulates her emotions, ideas, opinions, factual statements, and sense of humor with ease, which can cease deep-rooted rivalries, permanently.

She’s so social, that there’s rumors that she’s a mindreader of some sort. She has sympathy for the socially awkward, but it’s all a dream. Yet, again, I awake in my bedroom, imagining the same woman, practically idolizing the perspiration dripping from her hair follicles. My dead skin cells are reborn if they ever so touch her exfoliated skin. I’ve never seen this woman in my life, so why does my night terrors taunt me when we could be polar opposites? My reveries befriend my dreams, but my dreams, I still can’t control.

In front of me is a poster of a half-naked blond, swimsuit model (where the cosmography desperately flirts) nailed to the black, plaster, glazed wall, to my right side, there’s a mini-refrigerator, and to my left side, there’s a silver, flat-screen television sitting on a black dresser with a clean fish tank in the background. In the fish tank, there’s a Florida box turtle (who is consuming an earthworm), a black and white, ocellaris clownfish, and a goldfish. I rise up to turn the air conditioner on, then from upstairs, I hear my name being called, “Giovanni! Giovanni! Get up here quick!” That raspy voice startles me, sending me the urge to walk the opposite direction, but I rush up the squeaky, wooden stairs from the gloomy basement.

I open the door, seeing a blinding, white light flash in my eyes in my very presence, then feel cold water splash across my face with such an impact that I nearly fell backwards down the stairs. Guffaws rise across the living room as my eyes then see Jess, a 22-year-old sound designer with black, long, curly hair and a one-sided braid on the right side. She has brown freckles holding a sanguine flashlight. Jess has a black cardigan, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes while Larissa, a 19-year-old, over-achieving brunette with short, curly hair, thick, reading glasses, blue overalls, and black jack boots. Larissa has an Associate’s Degree in Fire Science at the University of Petunia in Afghanistan, a Bachelor’s Degree in Radiation Therapy at the Gifted College of Russiaville, a Master’s Degree in Film Studies with a minor in fashion design at Italy’s Golden Elites, and a PHD in Psychology at Vellia College New York.

I’m humiliated. None of these entities are my friends, but I eye at a birthday cake as they proceed to laugh like it’s their profession. Beside the blue cake, which says, “Happy 18th Birthday” are many pieces of confetti in Rolling Hitch Knots. Larissa then says, “Blow out your candles grown man.” Jess says, “Wait! Let me take a pic with birthday boy first.” Larissa says, “Giovanni’s an adult now and right now, he’s hungry. Isn’t that right?” I then say, “Uuumm.”

Jess says, “Hurry up already and make up your mind. Giovanni’s my homeboy.”

I’m handed the professional cake knife, but before I approach the circular glass table, all of the lights turn off. Jess utters, “Make a wish.” Theres eighteen lit candles extending out of the cake. As I blow out the candles, the light flickers on and off, repeatedly. Everyone looks on the opposite side of the closet where my intoxicated mother is, wearing a tye-dye shirt, blue jeans, and black tennis shoes. She laughs with wobbly legs in the dark until she falls, crashing onto the black, leather couch. Thus, I blow out the candles, then cut the cake.

My mother jumps over a 6 foot, circular, beige bean bag and the milk-white leather couch, screaming, “Happy Birthday” in a joking manner.

Oh, the laughter haunts me. Then, the ground floor shakes. Dishes fall out of the cabinets. Pictures fall from the walls. Dressers fall over. Everyone screams rushing to the floor. It’s an earthquake, but gladly, the place isn’t fully destroyed.

The Following Day

The moment I awake from my mattress, which is sitting on the black tiled floor, I receive a text message. I rise up to check my black cell phone, which is sitting on a tawny dresser. The text is from Jess, which reads, “What up? Tell your moms that I’m clockin’ in at seven tonight.” I text Jess back, “Got it.” My mother opens the basement door, then limos down the stairs with a right anterior cruciate ligament, which feels fractured when she puts weight on it. Practically deveining me with her stare as if though I’m phytoplankton, she groans while refraining from using profanity, then speaks, smelling like strong liquor with vinegar, “Who you textin’?”

Silence remains on my mouth like trying to hear a headless maggot in a forest fire. Her body has the stench of three cadavers in a sewage, but maybe I’m exaggerating. Take my word for it or take a sniff. She reaches the bottom step, walks over, then says, “I’m just messin’ around. Ain’t nobody tryin’ to look at your phone.” She then looks at my screen, laughs, then says, “I’m going to need you to do me a favor. I need some money to get groceries. I know you’re trying to save up.” In response, I say, “I don’t have that much money. I only have twenty dollars.” She takes the money from my hand, saying, “Thank you.” I head upstairs as she says, “I need to wash up. When you’re ready, take out the trash.”

After drinking 3 cups of water from the kitchen, I dump two, black garbage bags into the dumpster. The moment I make my way back, my mother says, “Did you check the mail?” “You never told me to check the mail,” I say. She yells, “I did! Don’t worry about it. Just help me move this couch.” “I can do it myself,” I say, then she responds, “I don’t think so. That couch cost me two thousand dollars,” she says. First, I close the front door, then get on the left end of the couch while she gets on the opposite side. She says, “Lift it from the bottom. Go.” Together, we both lift the couch from the middle of the living room near the burgundy, draped curtains that block the view of the balcony. She asks me, “Do you like the couch over here or where it was better?”

I say, “Where you just moved it looks great.”

“Just great,” she says, then her cell phone rings where she rants for approximately five minutes while I stand. I attempt to head elsewhere and she calls me to say, “Did I tell you to move? We’re about to get this house together and we’re working on your room next,” then speaks to her caller, “Let me get off this phone. I know you have an appointment.” After chuckling, she ends the phone call.

I receive a text message and she slaps me before yelling, “Come on, Giovanni! We have to clean up around here! You can’t be textin’! You had all day to do that! Tell whoever you’re textin’ that you’re busy!” “Okay,” I say, then look at the phone screen, reading, a message from Helen, saying, “I’m going to kill myself.” How do I tell Helen that I’m busy? I text the words, “I’m helping my mom move heavy furniture around right now. Can you refrain from killing yourself in about an hour?” Before I can press the send button, my phone rings and it’s an unknown caller, saying, “Hello. Is Benedetta there?” Thus, I take the phone away from my ear, saying to my mom, “Someone wants to speak to you.”

She takes the phone from my hand and speaks, “Hello… You have the wrong number. “Can I have my phone back,” I say. She responds, “Not until we’re done cleaning. What are you doing that’s more important than your personal growth?” Luckily, no random person texted me a naked picture while my mother has my cell phone. I say, “I just wanted to let them know I’m busy.” “They’ll know when you stop responding. Jesus, stop frowning. What type of job are you going to get frowning all the time. Even a garbage man has to smile and be social. I shouldn’t have to answer phone calls for you to set up your doctor’s appointment. When I was sixteen, I had my two jobs, a house, car, and a girlfriend that I had to spend time with. I even had to finish high school to receive my master’s degree in Social Work. Get your shit together or get out of my house. God gave you a stigmatism because you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings. Now’s the time to focus or you’ll be blind. I never had a stigmatism because I read my Bible. Jesus died for our sins,” she yells.

I have foreknown forethoughts about the things I’d like to do to my mother. A paintball gun aimed at her is foolish a water balloon being thrown. I’ve wanted her dead for a long time, but how precious is it to have a mother so beloved by everyone else? She exits the front door after putting on her long-sleeve, black, fleece jacket with a detachable hood, then greets the neighbor who exits his apartment, saying, “Good morning.” He says, “Morning. Did you hear the ground moving last night?” Benedetta says, “I was just about to ask you the same thing. I woke up at two o’clock in the morning thinking I was the only one seeing the ground move. I had to get out my Bible and start praying.” He says, “I know that’s right.”

Just when I thought she left, she enters the living room again after telling her neighbor to take care. Benedetta says, “Help me look for my keys. We’re going to watch some movies when I get back, so think about what movies you want to see and I’ll pick them up. Don’t choose that Satanic crap that your brothers are all hooked up in or I’ll kick you out like I did them. If you no longer want to speak to them, I understand and you don’t have to,” she says.

2 Hours Later

Benedetta enters the front door, then removes her jacket. “Put in one of the movies. I picked up some food because I ain’t cookin’ tonight,” she says. Curiously, I ask, “Which movie,” then she interrupts, yelling, “Any movie!” I just insert a comedy movie into the DVD player, turn the projector on, and cut the light off. As soon the screen is on the main menu, she says, “I’m scared. Aren’t you scared of this movie?” I ignore her, then there’s a knocking on the front door.

My mother opens the front door and it’s my brother with his clothes drenched in rain. He stutters, saying, “Hi. I thought that I’d stop by to visit.” He’s not even wearing a jacket and I received no warning of his arrival. Immediately, I head to my bedroom and my mother says, “Giovanni. Go make your brother some popcorn. Did you get a job yet?” “I’m still working on it,” I say. “You have your Bachelor’s Degree. Don’t let these people with no degree beat you. Both, you and your brother need to pick it up.”

I’m simply distraught. The movie plays while the popcorn is popping and already, she pauses a scene where the main character is having lesbian sex, saying it’s a sin. Why does she press the play button? After cooking the popcorn, I pass my Benedetta and my brother a bowl of popcorn, then make my own. My brother says, “You’re missing the movie,” which frustrates me, so I finally get done making the damn popcorn for myself and my brother doesn’t want to watch the movie by heading toward my room. My mother says, “Aren’t you all gonna watch the movie?” I say, “I’ll…” My Brother interrupts, saying, “It’s boring.” “Y’all missin’ out. Mister film major needs to lose his degree.”

I walk into my bedroom and there’s a knocking. My brother says, “Hi” while waving his hand horizontally. He then says, “Can I enter your room,” where I say, “Sure.” I’m texting my friend and my brother says, “You should smile more. Maybe if you smile more, you can get a girlfriend, a job, then you’ll get a place to stay. You don’t have it rough.” “You don’t know what I go through,” I say. He says, “I’ve known you my entire life,” then says, “What were we talking about?” “How much you like popcorn. I’m going to watch this comedy special that’s playing in the living room. Do you want to watch?” He says, “No thanks. I remember what we were discussing now.”

I step around my bed to close the closet doors and hide a voodoo doll that’s in a black, fishnet bag behind several white, transparent garbage bags full of clothes. The doorbell rings and that’s the moment I look at the time on my cell phone, seeing seven o’clock. Jess made her way back to the house, but my brother talks, “I never wanted to come over here. Back at my place, I have a homeless friend who I constantly have stay over and have to kick him out whenever my mom arrives. Why’s my mother hold onto my money when I’m a grown man? I should be able to purchase any foods I want. We’re all going to die anyway. I don’t know what healthy foods to pick out. I came over here just to speak to you and sometimes, I feel like I should’ve just stood home with my friend. You make me feel like I should commit suicide with how depressing you look.”

I look at him and say, “Nobody told you to let him leave your place. It’s cold as Antarctica’s ass cheeks and you decided to let him go. You was the bully back then.”

He yells, “Why are you arguing! I hope you do go into the military and you get shot dead! I’m going home!”

I yell, “Fuck you,” hoping he searches online who has the largest penis in the world and it turns out that an infant does, then the feds deliver him a cock sized ass whooping throughout his life sentence.

He runs toward me, the kicks me in the chest. As I fall backwards on the bed, he strikes me continuously in the body region where I gasp for oxygen. He then walks away, stops his movement, then runs toward me again, but I move my body to the right with my left foot extended in the air, and he trips falling into the mahogany entertainment system, breaking the black, flat screen television. Flashbacks of when he’d pummel me every day occurs while I suffer from a convulsive groan. Jess (who has green and blue, long dreads, rushes in my room to see my brother resting in the shattered glass. He has a bloody forehead.

Jess screams as I put on my black, leather jacket. My mother arrives in my room and I exit the room before grabbing a book bag, which includes my cash and birth certificate and social security card. Thus, I slam the front door shut.

30 Minutes Later

Where I sit on a bench outside of a mall, I’m consuming seasoned French fries and cheesy beans, which has the aroma of fresh, mushroom pizza in a bowl. A photogenic, desi woman with long, black, curly hair and a pink rose poking out of the top right section approaches him. She has a red bindi, two, authentic, small, silver, round piercings on both sides of her nose, perfectly aligned from both corneas, red fingernails, two golden bangles on both sides of her wrists, a purple, laced shawl, a laced, black, pencil skirt embroidered with red and pink floral designs, and purple tennis shoes with a dream catcher design on both of them. Her smile is extraordinary like finding living fish in inside a volcano. She says, “Excuse me! I couldn’t help but notice what you’re eating and was wondering which store did you go to?”

There’s a small, round, silver piercing in the front section of her tongue. I say, “Postasia’s Burgers. 2486 North Six Port Heights on Main Crestorfield street.”

She says, “I was going in the right direction then.”

I say, “Yeah. That’s what I did at first. I just followed the smell.”

“Yummy,” she says as if she wants to taste the food that I’m eating.

“You want to try some,” I ask.

She responds, “No thanks. I’m on a diet,” walking away taking two steps, then returns, saying, “That’s so sweet of you! You didn’t have to!”

She grabs some French fries and a separate burger I’ve not eaten, then sits on a bench. While she eats, I try to get to know her, “What’s your name?” She says, “You’re not from here, are you?” A scrawny thuggish man walks by the bench and says, “Gotta lighter?” I nod my head horizontally as she says, “No, Devonte! You know I don’t smoke!” Devonte says, “Is he bothering you? You want me to handle him?” She says, “We we’re doing just fine until you interrupted. Why don’t you go and smoke somewhere else?”

I utter the words, “I’m going to get going.”

She then says to Devonte, “See what you did? You scared him! You always do this to me!”

Making a right turn around the corner of a rundown hotel, I then walk away into an alley, but as I walk, from behind me, I hear a glass bottle shatter against the black, concrete ground. Devonte has an intimidating look of rage as he walks forward, eventually saying, “Stay away from my bitch! You got that!” “I’m leaving,” I say, but he pushes me into a brick wall where my forehead hits hard. He lifts up his shirt, draws out his handgun, then, beats my face with it. Thus, he aims the weapon at my bloody forehead as I gasp for oxygen. The woman runs from behind Devonte, screaming while I’m on the ground, defenseless.

Devonte says, “Stay away from my bitch! You got that?”

“I said I’m leaving!”

Devonte shoots me in the left kneecap. Blood leaks on the ground while I scream in excruciating pain. The woman screams, saying, “No!” Devonte pushes the woman to the ground, then shoots me in the left clavicle. It rains and Devonte says, “Stay away from my bitch,” shoots me once more in the same area, then says, “Don’t bring your ass round here anymore!”

Devonte says, “Come on,” then the woman rises. He holds her hand, pulling her from my blurry vision. Then, an earthquake shakes the ground. Devonte yells, “Oh shit” while the desi woman screams. I hear running footsteps on gravel, but I can’t run anywhere in my physical condition.

2 Hours Later

I awake, naked in a bathroom full of cold water full of ice cubes and white, lit candles surround the bathtub. A blond woman with short, straight hair and a black bathrobe positions her right index finger above her mouth while her left palm blocks his mouth. I was simply trying to breathe. I hear footsteps against a wooden floor and they’re not hers. The bathroom door opens by itself and the woman looks behind, saying, “I’m glad you could make it. Say hello, Gregory.” There’s nobody behind her and I hear nobody saying hello. The woman then turns back facing me, saying, “And your name is?”
I say, “I’m…”

As much as I try to think of fake name, she interrupts saying, “Giovanni.”

“How’d you know that,” I ask.

“Gregory knows everyone who enters this house. Stay still. Before you leave, you’re going to be feelin’ one hundred percent.”

I say, “Thank you for picking me up, but I should really be get going.”

“Gregory says he was friends with your father,” she says.

I try to rise from the bathtub, but my injury drives my body back down into a resting position. She says, “Take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you. By the way, my name’s Tomorrow.” My cell phone levitates from the kitchen sink hovering above my shoulders. She passes me a white dry towel where I dry my hands, then grab my cell phone to see my mother attempted to call me 55 times and sent me over 9 text messages where the most recent one says, “You’re never to step foot in this house again and I’m putting an end to your cell phone service, so while you think you had it hard now, the real world will kick you right in the ass!”

I check a message that Helen sent me, which says, “I’m worried sick about you. Why won’t you answer me?”

Suddenly, I try to text back, saying, “I’m doing okay,” but my message is invalid. Thus, on the cell phone, words form as if though I’m texting it, reading, “Just go away.” The message sends and I see the response from Helen, reading, “What the hell has gotten into you? First, you wanted nothing but the best for me and now you want me to go away? Go fuck yourself!”

I nearly drop the cell phone in the water from how enraged I am, saying in agony, “What the hell did you do!”

She says, “I didn’t do anything with your phone,” then temporarily looks to the left, saying, “Gregory, did you mess with his phone? Gregory says no. We were standing here the entire time.”

“Get me out of here,” I yell.

The woman puts her right palm over my mouth, then says, “When I shut the door, your body will be one hundred percent. One. Two. Three.”

She leaves the bathroom and the door shuts by itself. After I lower my cell phone on the toilet seat, my injury isn’t painful anymore. What just happened? I stand on my two feet moving my left leg above the water and touching my left clavicle. I no longer feel a wound, then look in the mirror, seeing that the wound is gone.

I step out of the bathroom, cautiously looking around, wondering if I should run out of this place naked or search for clothes. A record player plays from the living room, which startles me, so I dart my head around. Nobody is in the living room, but the record player is moving by itself. I hear several disembodied voices say my name, “Giovanni!” Then, a bedroom door pops open and it’s Tomorrow, but this time, she’s firmly holding a beige dress shirt and black dress pants on a wooden hanger.

Tomorrow says, “I know you don’t plan on running out there naked with your package out.”

Sarcastically, I say, “Not any time soon.”

“Your mother just wanted you to have a backup plan. No she didn’t,” the voices say.

I say, “Thank you.”

She says, “No. Thank God.”

 

3 Years Later

I’m in a bathtub and Tomorrow opens the door, saying, “My marvelous, marvelous Giovanni! I need those incendiary powders made by tonight. Everyone’s doing their part. Gregory is on the look out and I’ll bring in the bait. It’s go time! Let’s do this!”

Tomorrow covers her yellow, spaghetti strap with a black pea coat, then exits the house. 30 minutes later, I receive a text message, letting me know it’s time to go outside. Trying not to slip on the black ice, which covers the concrete steps, I walk down, then toward her black convertible. She opens the trunk and there’s a rolled up Indian rug that she wants me to carry into the house. I carry the rug wondering what the hell I’m going to look like if someone sees me struggling to lift what feels like dead weight. What if I slip on the black ice and the body rolls out of the rug? There’ll be witnesses everywhere and I’ll effortlessly make the cover of the local newspaper.

The rug is heavy, but I lift it up, nearly falling backward before Tomorrow catches the rug by her lonesome and sits it in front of the door. Gregory opens the front door, then I position the rug into the living room. The front door shuts after Tomorrow locks shuts all of her car doors and locks them. Thus, she rolls the rug until it’s flat where a naked male is in an unconscious state.

I sit slumped down in a wooden, rocking chair, smoking a sweet cigar while Tomorrow walks over to kiss me on the lips. She moves backwards with a smile as the defenseless victim on the floor is getting his hands tied shins his back and ankles tied together with a thick rope by Gregory.

The victim wakes up and Tomorrow has on a black mask as just as I do. She slaps him across the face, then says, “A or B. A, you empty your bank account or B, your joint-stock company will be no more.”

The victim tries escaping the ropes, saying, “What the… Who the hell are you? How did I get here?”

She refuses to answer his question, takes the cigar out of my mouth, where wisps of smoke wander around the place. Then, she positions the cigar in her mouth while opening a steel, silver cooler to grab a cold beer. While I watch her temporarily remove the cigar just to drink from the beer, I grab another cigar, which sits beside an ashtray full of cigarettes on a black nightstand.

After rising from my rocking chair, I strike him in the mouth. As much as he desires to cover up the wound from his bottom lip, he can’t. Then, I look into his brown, leather wallet, which is sitting on a rectangular, glass table. The victim’s name is Jeffrey Manomark who is 5 foot 4, 156 pounds, and in grave trouble.

Jeffery weeps, then screams desperately for help as I drag him into a bedroom where the air conditioner has been on for nearly 2 hours, colder than the negative 5 degrees from outside. “Please! No! No! No,” Jeffrey screams, but his words don’t save him. There’s a silver, stainless padlock on the top closet shelf that I grab, then place in a black, fishnet bag. Thus, I swing the weapon at his jaw, dividing his top, right canine tooth from his mouth as blood follows. Blood trickles down his mouth with the mixture of saliva while tears run down his fearful eyes.

Sarcastically, I then say, “Smile more. It’ll ward off the evil.”

I then kick him in the testicles and wonder which one of his testicle hurts the most. Jeffrey squeals in a tone that I favor, then grunts in a shaking motion. His body hair reaches freezing temperature and his nostrils stick against his flesh, making it complicated to breathe.

Great. Tomorrow arrives saying, “What a strong man I have,” then says to Jeffrey, “That’s more than ten seconds I gave you. Make a choice. A or B.”

Jeffrey says, “Fuck you!”

I kick him in the testicles once more, then put him in a supine position, holding his back upwards with my right knee pressing down on his spinal cord. He yells as Tomorrow grabs a dirty, white rag with brown and grey stains from the bathroom tub, then heads into the black, bedroom dresser, opening the bottom drawer to take out black tape. She stuffs the dirty rag in his mouth, then wraps the tape around his mouth approximately four times. Suddenly, it feels more peaceful. Yes.

Constantly, she walks backwards and runs forwards, kicking him in the ribs and testicles. The victim cries uncontrollably. Although he cries with his hands tied behind his back, I won’t let go of his arms. Then, I stretch his arms in an upward motion to the point where I hear bones crack. Thus, he screams. Tomorrow then says, “A or B!”

I say, “Gosh. If you empty the man’s bank account, that ruins his business altogether and if you ruin his business, he has to find another way to make money.”

Tomorrow says, “Don’t give him the answers. Jeffrey has to think for himself in life or he’ll never succeed like you.”

I say, “I would’ve never succeeded without a hand from you.”

Tomorrow says, “You’re strong and have survival instincts. Maybe you forgot how things were before, but I remember just like yesterday. The balls you had to survive under your living conditions weren’t as good as his.”

I say with a serious voice, “Does that make it right to punish him?”

She says, “Fuck yeah, dude,” then laughs.

I laugh along, saying, “This motherfucker should’ve never fucked with us fuckers!”

“B,” Jeffrey yells.

Tomorrow removes her black, leather, studded belt, the swings it at his body approximately twelve times, yelling, “Don’t yell at me!” Jeffrey suffers several welts on his body and a bruise mark on his right cheek after I strike it. He bleeds profusely from his bottom lip. Tomorrow says to Jeffrey, “Act right because Gregory is watching you.” She leaves the room as I follow her. Thus, the bedroom door slams by itself and a silver lamp flickers on and off by itself.

Jeffrey panics. A glass of ice, cold water tilts over the dresser, landing on the grey carpet.

Gregory picks up a keen knife, which is slid from underneath the door. Jeffrey looks at the weapon levitating toward him. Nobody is in sight holding the weapon, so Jeffrey screams. The light turns out as Gregory launches the knife into Jeffrey’s body three six times, his face, twice, and his right shin, once. Jeffrey suffers eternal bleeding.

In the living room, I receive a text message from Helen that reads, “Call me.” Immediately, I call her and hear Helen softly say, “I love you.” Another individual with a deep voice says, “Leave my daughter alone, you nigger.”

“I’m not black dumbass. Call here again and I’ll murder you,” I say before ending the phone call.

Tomorrow says, “But you are black.”

I say, “How could you hear that conversation. He was speaking very low.”

“Your friend loves you. Wanna be her savior,” she says?

I say, “No. I’m done with her. I’m just done.”

Tomorrow says, “Take some time to think about it while I check up on Gregory. Gregory! Gregory!”

“Sure,” I say.

She walks down the hall and stops, saying, “Mommy got you a treat. Giovanni! Grab the treat that’s in my purse!”

Her demanding voice makes me follow her command. The moment I unzip her, purse, which is made out of leopard skin, I see a black and tan poodle barking. I take the poodle out of the purse, eyeing the vacant hall. Her malicious smile is behind me. She grabs the poodle, saying, “Thank you,” then speaks to Gregory, saying, “There’s more if you keep it up.”

In awe, I stare at the poodle being devoured by nothingness, yelling for someone to save him. Blood drips down to the white, tiled floor and the blood is the same color as Tomorrow’s living room curtains, which drapes down the floor. I take a seat, suffering from a flashback of Benedetta half naked, wearing a bluish-green, laced bra and black pantyhose, saying, “Here. I’m done using the computer” Benedetta hands me my laptop back and when I shut the bedroom door to sit down on my bed, type in the URL, I notice that she’s been on lesbian porn sites. After making a disgusted face, I delete the the URL history, then look at the pictures section in my documents noticing my mother posing naked, revealing her buttocks. Immediately, I exit out, sit the laptop on the bed, and sit back, trying to breathe. The moment I exit the flashback, another flashback occurs, but this time, it’s of Devonte saying, “Stay away from my bitch! You got that?”

I grow impulsive, heavily breathing, wailing against the pillows on the couch. Tomorrow walks by, snapping her finger louder than a police siren and hypnotically, I pause. Tomorrow then sits beside me, wrapping her right leg around my right leg, then wrapping her arms around my neck, saying, “That’s better. That’s why I love you, babe. You always know when to do what’s best for me. I just love you.”

Her last sentence echoes in my ears, repeating in her ethereal voice, “I just love you. I just love you. I just love you.”

She proceeds speaking, “What’s on your mind, hun?”

I respond, “I think you’re ticklish.”

The Following Day

I’m wearing a black mask, a black hooded sweatshirt under a black trench coat, black, medical gloves underneath black, leather gloves, leather pants, and black hunting boots on a rainy Sunday night. In the backyard of a bungalow, I wander, seeing that the bathroom window is closed shut with the lights off and the door open. From looking through the bathroom window into one section of the hall, I know there’s nobody around. Even if curtains blocked my view, I’d hearken to where the vigilant homeowner goes daily, just to pry the window open by first inserting a utility knife in the gap between the sash and frame. Then, I position the knife around the opening of both sides of the window, remove the utility knife. Then do the same thing with a putty knife. I position my black flat bar where the sash meets the window sill, tapping it with a black hammer around and lift the window up after slowly pressing the flat bat downward on the bottom angles of the window.

Slowly, I make my way into the gloomy bathroom, closing the draped, beige curtains, which were on the sides. Then I lightly walk toward the door, peeking around both sides. There’s nobody in the hall, then I see a bulldog that walks nearby until I rest a piece of seasoned steak on the wooden floor. The homeowner’s bedroom door is wide open with her black, flat-screen television turned on, mounted on the plaster, red-brown painted wall. A separate room is closed, so I check the living room where a paralyzed female with long, curly hair is sitting defenselessly in a wheelchair. She has a blue blouse under a grey jumper dress with black stockings.

Slowly, I walk backwards, moving into the bathroom and stepping into the bathtub with a handgun, which has a lovable silencer kept in his back, right pocket. I then hide in a supine position with the handgun held upwards. The separate door opens and it’s an 8-year-old boy in green pajamas with black, horizontal stripes, holding a half eaten black, ceramic bowl of disgusting oatmeal and a panini sandwich. The anonymous boy leaves the wooden door opened enough for me to know that the handicapped woman and the boy are the only two currently in the bungalow.

The boy says, “Mommy. You dropped your steak.”

The mother rolls her wheelchair around with a confused look on her face, then sees a shadow come out of the bathroom. I then step out of the bathroom as her opened, bedroom window allows the air to lift the bottom section of my trench coat. I shoot the little boy in the back of the head with no remorse, cherishing the moment blood squirted from his stupid head. The bowl falls to the carpet, cracking. Afterwards, the mother screams, but not too long, for I shoot her in the right lung. Her head rushes down to her cleavage area as blood trickles down her wound.

I walk toward her as she struggles to breathe, but I recline the wheelchair with my physicality. I slap her repeatedly as she cries, then push her handicapped ass out of the broken wheelchair. Her voice rises 8 octaves when I yank a handful of her hair from her precious scalp. She bleeds from her scalp, slowly struggling to crawl away with only her arms. Her legs are motionless.

Yes, I laugh while placing my right foot on top of her left ankle. No longer can she move further away from me like having a couch leg stuck on a cat’s tail or holding a worm in the palm of my hands. Her fingers linger as she sails against the grey carpet. I remove my right foot only to stomp against her left ankle, dislocating it. The exhilaration I’m receiving calls for a beer I’ve not yet drank.

Oh, her sexiness leaves me no other fucking choice. No woman would want to accept me unless they’re old as shit, a cheater, have an immediate family, or some other bullshit pattern leading to me wanting nothing to do with them. After tonight, I’m a motherfucker. I reflect on how I deflowered Tomorrow 3 years ago, then realize how lucky this crippled bitch is.

I rip off her jumper dress, then remove her blue blouse with my body weight positioned on her. She tries fighting back, but I smack her arms to the carpet, repeatedly, then slam her head against the carpet. Thus, I unzip my pants and penetrate her lazy ass with my 9 inch penis.

It’s Monday fucking morning and I reflect on how I committed a diabolical murder. First, I penetrated that slut from yesterday, then I stabbed her in the body region sixty five times, the face 92 times, and the right shoulder twice. After so, I decapitated her dumbass son’s head with just a knife, then put his head in a living room fish tank where goldfish roam. Other than that, I suffer from the random thought of how a witch in the past cast a spell on my brother that forces his eyes to roll in the back of his goddamn head randomly like he’s a zombie rip off.

I’m crossing the street. That’s something my brother most likely would have to worry about. Damn! Tomorrow is on the other side. Befitting. Her name sounds like heaven. She smirks and tells me to walk with her so that we can chat with friends. During the walk, there’s yet another flashback on when I say, “God doesn’t like it when you cheat.” Benedetta responded with laughter, saying, “Everyone’s been saying the same thing for years and nothing’s still happened. God who?” It wasn’t only thirty seconds later that shirtless pig spoke about me needing to join a church, then spoke about Jehovah being the one and true God.

Tomorrow can stop my qualms. We enter a mall where she hugs a woman I recognize. For fucks sake! I smell imminent depression. It’s Jess with black, curly hair a blue tank top, black and white camouflage pants, and black hunting boots. Jess says, “Well, isn’t it not Tomorrow’s husband.” I say, “We’re.” Tomorrow interrupts, “Dating. We’ve been in a relationship for about about a year.” Jess says, “I see. And he still never popped the question.”

I say, “I can,” then Tomorrow interrupts snapping her finger, saying, “My future husband knows exactly the right time to say whatever is on his mind. He knows exactly what I’m thinking, so popping the question will not be a problem.”

“Where’s your husband,” I say. Jess says, “His name is Devonte. We’ve been engaged for 3 months, got married in Vegas, and two years later, here I am now. He still does everything a man should from being my personal chef and spoiling me if you know what I mean. Devonte’s out with the boys right now.

Immediately, I walk away from the discussion, but tomorrow looks at me as I try to turn my face away. I can’t move my face and body as if though someone or something is controlling me. I then gain control, moving slowly, but the telekinetic power is too powerful. Tomorrow says, “Leaving so soon? Helen is stopping by in thirty minutes to talk.” That’s my online friend who I’ve never met in person. How is Tomorrow friends with Helen, so out of curiosity, I ask, “How do you know Helen?” Jess says, “Including your mother.”

“Stay away from me,” I say.”

Tomorrow says, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

I immediately run after yelling, “Get the hell away from me!”

A few out of approximately fifty five strangers from the cafeteria laugh directly at me as if they’ve been watching me for years. I hear one stranger say my name in a whisper, then two other strangers talk about Satanism at a table as if nobody would care about their discussion. A black, portable, two-way radio transceiver turns on in from a stranger’s front right pocket, saying, “Suspect is at the centerpiece. I repeat. Suspect is at the centerpiece.”

Helen arrives with a similar electronic device and she says, “Copy.”

“What the hell are you doing here,” I say.

A hyperventilated Helen says, “That’s no way to keep a woman. Tomorrow, you need a real man. Don’t settle for this soft piece of trash.” Jess, Helen, and Tomorrow laughs. Thus, I run away knowing that telling people about my experiences will get me put in the crazy house.

I rush out of the cafeteria, bypassing three female mannequins, exiting the back door of the mall. There’s nowhere to go, but a hotel. There’s nobody to trust. I could be gruesomely murdered in a hotel. My best luck is to live in any car. Shit! My car is at Tomorrow’s house.

No matter what, I don’t stop running, but constantly hear voices haunting me, saying my name, “Giovanni!” The voices even laugh and groan.

I cross two streets, turn a right corner, then head to Tomorrow’s house. Loud gunshots wander across the neighborhood. I shut the front door behind me and grabbing a handgun from on top of the dresser in her bedroom.

Then, I position the handgun in my front, right pocket, heading outside, toward the blue car. After opening the car door, I take my gun out of my pocket, and place it in the passenger’s seat before lowering my haunches. I shut the door, then speed down the road, going 45 miles per hour, nearly crashing into a parked car.

My heart pounds rapidly as a flashback occurs. I see a thuggish man with a black durag sit down in an English classroom beside me speaks to me, saying, “I can hook you up. What type of bitches you into?” I reply, “I’m…” he interrupts, saying, “Your ass ain’t never gonna get the bitches like that. You see that he, she or whatever it is sitting at the far right corner? That’s your type. She’s told me she’s a hermaphrodite.”

In response, I think, but refuse to say, “Was that before you had sex with her?”

I see a nerd talking to his friend, saying, “I don’t like my mother.” The thug who could be Devonte’s brother gets involved saying, “I’ll beat the shit outta you. Always respect your mother. My mother would’ve beaten the shit outta me for saying that.” One female student sitting in the back of the class says, “Just let it go.” The thug yells, then exits the classroom slightly before the boring teacher arrives.

20 Minutes Later

I’m in a hotel bedroom and sit on the bed with the handgun aimed at my forehead with my face lowered. The disembodied voices followed me, still communicating to me. One voice says, “She knows where you are.” Another voice says, “Nobody cares.” Just when I lower the gun, it fires on its own, startling me. I turn around seeing a bullet hole in the ceiling. The top drawer from the tawny dresser opens, revealing a Holy Bible, but I turn away from it.

A knock is at the door and I rise, positioning my weapon in my right, back pocket. Slowly, I walk closer, eventually looking in the peephole to see a blond hotel maid in her late 20s with a ponytail. I open the door, then see that it’s Tomorrow in my presence. Thus, I slam the door, grab a black luggage bag and open the door again. Down the hallway, I run while receiving a phone call from Tomorrow.

When I pick up the cell phone, she says, “Hey sweet cakes.”

In response, I say, “What the fuck is going on?”

She says, “You have two eyes. Tell me. You don’t have the strength to kill yourself. Kill me if that’s what makes you comfortable. What I want you to do is walk back over here and kill me.”

“Are you crazy,” I say, “Everyone’s watching me.”

She says, “You’re a coward. When you grow some balls, go fix me a sandwich.”

I say, “Just stay away,” then end the phone call.

I block her phone number while running pass Jess, who says, “Catch ya later, champ.”

While rushing in the parking lot, I see a police officer step out of his car. It’s Devonte, who says, “Woah! Woah! Woah! What are you up to running so fast out of a hotel? You wouldn’t mind if I check your license and registration?” I say, “Motherfucker! I remember you.” Devonte says, “Keep remembering. Now, show me your fuckin’ license and registration! Don’t move!”

I immediately move to the left side, grab his arms, positioning them in the air, the headbutt him three times. Thus, I shoot him in the heart, twice before rushing in my car to drive away from the scene. I just kill a cop and now I’m going to go to prison when the surveillance cameras identify my depressed face. Beside a local park, I stop the car, then ain the gun toward my right cranium, shooting myself dead.

 

 

 

 

Red Gales and Her

© Oct 1, 2017. All Rights Reserved.

A giggling baby in a white diaper is mounted on a grotesque gargoyle from a 4-story, concrete building as gales blow the opposite direction. The mother is nowhere to be found, but a man in his mid-20s, (wearing a black and red, button-up, mackinaw, blue jeans, and black jackboots) sitting in a wheelchair, watches the baby girl. A concerned, 18-year-old with chestnut hair and beautiful eyes the color of rainbow moonstone with the colors bluish green, to yellow, to orange, to green (built like good juju with a double ponytail, a zipped up, beige peacoat over a silk, milk-white, long-sleeved bell sleeve shirt, blue skinny jeans, and tawny, shearling boots) shouts, “Oh my God! Somebody get that baby off the roof!” There’s a diversity of approximately 20 onlookers watching the occurrence, nervous if the baby’s next move will be her last. Six of those twenty onlookers take out their cellphones to record as the 10-month-old has the compulsion to walk, balancing herself on the gargoyle.

Instantly, the anonymous baby slips. The woman’s scream joins the crowd, but the calm man spins his wheels forward with his arms open, catching her naturally like a football. Everyone is in awe. The girl’s unscathed. He moves his wheelchair toward the adorable teenager who compliments him, “You’re a hero.” Remaining speechless, the odd man nods his head sideways, hands her the baby, (where he notices the palm of her hands appears like titanium quartz with the color black, bluish-green, and purple) then heads the opposite direction in his wheelchair. A police officer reluctantly steps out of his vehicle in the background, shocked. The officer stares at him as if though he watched the hero drug a scorpion with polonium in a syringe, then light the scorpion on fire.

Although he saved a falling baby from her catastrophic death, absolutely nobody bothers to steer him toward his destination. He rolls his wheels approximately 4 blocks across the street in the freezing snow, which is 18 inches high. Snowflakes fall from the ultramarine empyrean. Three delinquents laugh at his crippled condition. One delinquent has brown dreadlocks, a red banana wrapped around his forehead, a vermilion winter coat, black jeans, and black boots. The second delinquent is a brunette with short, curly hair, a carmine, hooded, insulated jacket with black drawstrings on both sides, blue jeans, and black shoes. The third delinquent has a crimson parka, three teardrops on the right side of his cheek, blue jeans, and crimson shoes.

Ignoring the delinquents before they can give the hero blood boiling rage, he digs the rest of his path, which is a walkway to his ventilated cottage. The three delinquents follow him to his cottage, which is enormously unsettling. He opens the front door and the delinquents are shocked at the noise they hear from inside. Could it be that he left his television on? The sound of a defenseless, little boy is screaming with adhesive tape wrapped around his mouth. As if though hiding a bizarre sight, the hero shuts the door and locks it while the delinquents walk away with confusion etched on their faces.

Inside the cottage, the urethra of the 7-year-old boy is separated and left in a white, ceramic salad bowl. He rises from his wheelchair, lunging a keen knife into the boy’s right, testicular organ with excessive force, which causes it to rupture. The boy’s mangled face turns into rage and tears. A stack of photographs of the boy’s endoskeleton is sitting beside him. He’s handcuffed to a radiator, petrified.

Flashbacks occur of the hero making nitrocellulose and mixing it with concentrate sulfuric acid and water in a brown, ceramic bowl. After putting ice cubes and salt in the solution, he adds cotton, allows it to soak for approximately 12 hours, and cleans it in cold water. He pours the formula in an empty liquor bottle, drives to his victim’s house, then pours the formula from the bottle into a hollow front, right bed leg. He effectively screws the bed leg back on the bed with his white latex gloves. Thus, he leaves victim’s house knowing that the drug addict victim will let smoke wander to the extent of escalating heat, which would set off the explosive.

His cottage is protected by material one should only witness during a natural disaster. Beneath the cottage, there’s an enormous, underground region with a perforated barrel shroud in a freezing temperature. In the region, there’s a life buoy-shaped, metal material which holds a hundred times the weight capacity of the cottage. Inside the material, there’s a superconductor. Above the surface of the cottage, there’s a remarkable remote control, which controls rather or not the house can levitate or float on water in case of a severe flood.

Another flashback occurs. It’s raining and a riot is outside where people hold burning bats, guns, and knives. He sees his defenseless mother getting stoned while he’s only 6-years old in blue overalls and black boots. His mother cries as if though she replaced his sadness for numbness. She is wearing a peach halter top with floral designs, blue jeans, and leather, black riding boots. One stone strikes her on the right temple which causes a laceration. The bleeding compresses her brain and the intense pressure causes her to die in several minutes.

Another flashback occurs from 5 days ago of him naked in a bathroom. A naked brunette with buttocks flatter than a pancake is gasping for oxygen. Tears are running down her fragile cheeks. Her hands are tied tightly behind her back from thick, brown bull rope, her bosoms appear as if though they were in a deep fryer for over 2 minutes and her back appears like aerial shells dug deeply into her spinal cord. Massive blood leakage exits from her rectum when a keen knife is lunged inside. He drags her body out of the pool full of cold water, which causes the back of her head to slam against the black and white, tiled floor. He then deflowers her; he penetrates her, blocking her screams with his hands.

He exits his flashback and hears a light knock at the front door. Swiftly, he hides the little boy in the living room closet, wrapping his mouth with tape, then rushes back into his wheelchair as if though he’s handicapped. The buffoon then knocks on his front window, which is blocking him from seeing the inside of the house. This buffoon (wearing only an orange, unzipped jacket, black t-shirt, blue jeans, and red tennis shoes) didn’t even ring the doorbell, but he gives a sinister at the front door while cracking his knuckles as if though terrifying. The hero opens the door as the buffoon laughs walking by.

“Hey,” the buffoon says as he enters the heroes cottage.

“Hello. What brings you here?”

With a low voice, distorted voice, the buffoon says, “I ju-ju-jus-just wa-wanted to see you c-can h-help me w-work on my album.”

The hero shuts the front door, then says, “I’m not interested.”

“C-come on! I’m y-your brother!”

“No means no. It’s late. I’ve said no for over 15 years.”

“Y-you don’t know h-how g-great this album c-can be if we j-just work together. I-imagine if we both m-made a r-rom-romance s-s-song and it’ll infl-influence others to l-love more.”

“I heard your music. You rap about guns you don’t use, but you despise other artists for talking about the same thing.. We have two different opinions about love here, bro. Is that all you came over for?”

“P-pretty much. I j-ju-just want to f-finish my albums before I d-die. I have over eight-eighteen I’m still working on. May-maybe if you li-listened to m-my songs more, it’ll teach y-you how to be more soc-social and y-you can meet friends. I ev-even tried get-getting you a girlfriend back in high school.”

“Huh?”

“I even tried…”

The hero interrupts, “No. the first part and I didn’t want a girlfriend back then. If your dad picked out your girlfriend, would you be happy?”

“No.”

“Work in your own music. That’s it. Get the fuck out my house and brush your damn teeth!”

“No! You’re gonna li-listen to th-these songs I recorded on my cell phone.”

The hero receives a horrible flashback of his brother pummeling him to the floor countless times a day in 4 of the same shirts in over a 5 year period. He has more flashbacks of being called words like “Retard,” “Four eyes,” “Single,” and “Nerd.” More flashbacks occur on how the buffoon bullied him as he aged. Suddenly, he exits the flash back and rises from the wheelchair. His brother is shocked.

A disembodied voice, which sounds exactly like his brother enters the heroes sensitive ears, “I’m not your brother!”

The hero draws out his bloody knife from his back right pocket, and lunges it into his brother’s spleen repeatedly, approximately 48 times. His brother screams in excruciating pain, suffering blood trauma to the upper left portion of the abdomen, which causes a splenic laceration and severe blood loss. The hero then receives an inbox message on an online dating website he recently registered to. The username, “Hell No Friendly” with a profile picture of a woman with orange, curly hair, bluish-green eyeliner, and a milk-white, laced sundress, says, “My lover would have to be a family person because I’m close to mine.”

“What if the person who likes you just don’t have a good family,” the hero responds in the inbox message while typing onto a keyboard the color of kerosene.

She responds, “I’m bisexual. If he or she don’t respect their parents, they definitely won’t respect me.”

The hero blocks ” Hell No Friendly,” logs off the website, then shuts down his black laptop. Disembodied voices enter his ears, saying, “You’re going to be a fucking bum if you keep focusing on what makes you happy. Focus on what’ll pay the bills. Help me clean up around the house. Stop worry about the equality of women and worry about what you’re going through. Focus on you.” He drags his brother’s body out of the living room, but removes his brother’s black cell phone from his front right pocket before doing so. Blood leaves a trail wherever the hero drags the body..

The Next Day

As if it’s self-abuse to be diligent, the hero uses his wheelchair to head outside and police officers ransack his cottage right after he leaves the area. The officers steal valuable items, but no missing people or iota evidence is found. He witnesses one maroon convertible speeding at 100 miles per hour on a two-way road and a truck speeding at 35 miles per hour the opposite direction. Both of the cars collide puncturing their gas tanks. The impact of the crash is so powerful that the stearing wheel to the convertible detaches, remorselessly lodging into the intoxicated driver’s cranium. Suddenly, the convertible driver is engulfed in flames while the truck driver falls out his vehicle. The truck driver (with a lacerated face) falls as if though he’s suffering from a brain hemorrhage and kidney failure simultaneously, resulting in him smacking his forehead against the hard pavement.

The anonymous hero rises from his wheelchair and walks by the accident where the teenage girl he saw with rainbow moonstone colored eyes runs by. As the convertible car remains on fire, she opens the front door on the driver’s side, carrying the driver out effortlessly.. The fire divides from her and the defenseless driver. Thus, the truck owner reaches his feet, limping away while eyeing at the superhuman teenager in awe. She places the human on the sidewalk, gingerly.

The previous hero, speaks to the eighteen-year-old, “What are you?”

The woman responds, “Call me Ahona, your hometown hero. And you are?”

“Alessandro. How’d you do that?”

“From the powers that be,” she points at her house while saying, “I live just down the street, so if you need me, I’m at your service. This town can use a little cleaning up around here.”

Her house has a wreath hung on the front door. A curtain from the front view of her house moves, blocking the view from from the inside. Who does Ahona live with? Can Alessandro trust

3 Hours Later

Ahona sees Alessandro a table away from her and smiles. Alessandro’s crush sitting parallel to him, blushes. When his crush Jesse rises to leave, her hands won’t remove from the smooth, wooden table. Jesse’s flesh adheres to the wood and she attempts pulling her arms away from the table. Glass plates, cups, and silverware shake, which catches the attention of her crush and the curious customer’s at the local, fast-food restaurant. She rips the flesh off of her left palm screaming in agony. Blood spreads across the table and her crush screams while standing up, recoiling. Part of the victim’s left hand is still attached to the table as well as her full right hand. Enduring the pain, she rips her right palm from the table along with her fingers. All of his flesh is gone from one side of both hands and she sees an ominous smirk from a man in the background sitting.

Ahona walks in front of Alessandro and says, “Hey again.”

 

Hie Die World

© May 16, 2017. All Rights Reserved.
Earth. … It’s a broad and graphic topic with many undiscovered lands, species, and ancient artifacts, yet the universe is larger. I intend on broadening my horizons as I explain in this audio recording of how I became a monster. Does a crime make me any less than a living organism compared to a sin? Am I deceased or a survivor? In this story, I shall address the desires and needs of the masses while addressing mine. Everyone dies like resting lies, which reveals verisimilitude. The deep truth befriends few living organisms, but is open to everyone.

Restore my childhood before I live vicariously through my children. Am I not grown if I live exactly how I intend or am I not happy by not living my life? It took labyrinths just to find my potty, for I used to be legally blind until I was ten. Then, I got involved in a polygamous relationship. I shall not skip great details, so enjoy.

It’s Easter and I’m wiping my ass with the latest “Daddy Killer” magazine I posed on the cover of while my white and red Exotic Shorthair is getting some shut-eye. Currently, there’s three major reasons why I’m wiping my ass. One, I don’t really like magazines, two, I hate my job, and three, I ran out of toilet paper. I’m just a 7-year-old snob, but I couldn’t see that even if I wasn’t blind. It’s wonderful that I remember where the sink is, so I can wash my hands. Thus, my older brother who’s one year older than me has contact lens solution sitting in front of me, which I mistake for soap. I’m nothing of a cook either, but I love to assist, because I’m no quitter.

Jeremiah is a scrawny 7-years old with thick glasses. He dresses in his older brother’s hand-me-downs; he’s wearing blue overalls and white tennis shoes, sitting on a black, Davenport sofa in the living room, watching cable television. There’s a silver, flat-screen television, mounted on a black, semi-gloss, painted wall. He rests in a supine position with his eyes facing the milk-white, cathedral ceiling. The cathedral ceiling is a heart-shaped skylight above narrow, mahogany beams and each beam form into the design of a spiderweb.

In the kitchen, there’s a folded up, unread, new poem inside a pizza box. The aroma from the cheese and sausages pizza makes Jeremiah hungry, but his greedy, older brother, Byron won’t share. That’s perfectly fine… Byron, one year older than Jeremiah, never washes his grimy hands before doing the dishes. There’s always leftovers for Jeremiah to clean up. Great… Byron passes him, heading down the basement where there’s a pool table beside a jacuzzi.

The moment Jeremiah looks at the cream colored curtains, one shadow of a 7 foot tall, muscular leader smokes a cigar as five of his gang members pummel a drug dealer. They kick the crying man in the face relentlessly into disfigurement. Then, two of the gang members hold the crying drug dealer’s hands behind his back. When Jeremiah slowly moves the curtain to peek out the window, the shirtless drug dealer is bleeding profusely from his nostrils onto his tattered, blue jeans. He’s wobbling on his legs as two men hold him in the air, side by side with one hand. His tawny flip-flops are near a red fire hydrant and his bare feet are bruised and muddy.

The leader then drops his cigar on the concrete floor and steps on it with his right, black dress shoe. The leader has on thick, black sunglasses and an expensive grey business suit. Jeremiah watches the leader snap his finger with his left hand. The two gang members move the drug dealer closer. Tears run down the drug dealer’s cheeks. Another gang member stabs the drug dealer with red aviation snips three times in the kidney. The victim screams as the leader blows smoke in his face.

“Your time is up” the leader says.

The leader draws out a gun and shoots the victim in the heart, twice. They drop his lifeless body on the ground. Before the gang notices Jeremiah looking, he closes the curtain back to its original position and hides behind the wall. His heart beats as he gasps for air. He slumps down against the wall weeping; his arms are covering his ears and his knees are slightly bent. A few minutes later, he hears the sound of ambulance sirens. Beside Jeremiah, the front door opens, startling him.

Jeremiah’s cousin, Felicia walks down the stairs with a purpose, holding a slice of pizza in her right hand. She’s wearing a backwards, black, leather baseball cap and a stainless, silver crucifix pendant attached to a necklace. She has a white t-shirt with tarantulas on the left side, black bats on the right side, and a versus symbol between. Her black belt has silver studded spikes. She has black, grey, and white camouflage jeans with a silver, stainless pocket chain. The pocket chain is linked with three other chains and a dollar sign pendant. Also, she’s wearing black jackboots.

Felicia speaks to the stranger, “Leave now!”

The stranger jumps up in fear, then runs away. Felicia locks the door shut. The living room lights flicker on and off. It’s just Byron fooling around with the light switch. He laughs with his thick, red headphones on. Felicia grins at Byron as Jeremiah watches an egregious occurrence.

“Do you like your face?” shame says to Byron.

Byron flirtatiously responds with an erect penis showing from his jeans, “I really like you.”

“You nasty. That’s your cousin!” Jeremiah says.

Byron laughs, saying, “I know. She’s still cute.”

“Bye loser,” she says as she walks up the stairs.

Dorothy, a black and white, Maine Coon exits the kitchen and enters the living room. Byron lifts up the couch when Dorothy runs under, then he faces Jeremiah. Jeremiah is holding a soft pillow with a thin sewing pin extended out as he lowers his right eye inches away from blinding his eye. Byron yells to grab his brother’s attention. As Jeremiah’s cell phone rings, a concerned Felicia rushes down.

“There’s a pin sticking out of that pillow!”

After pausing his movement in shock, Jeremiah throws the pillow away from his sight. Thus, the pillow knocks down the flat-screen television. When it crashes on the ground, Dorothy runs, but is still under the sofa. Jeremiah and Byron face one another with dropped jaws from the broken television. Felicia has a malicious smile, but not for long. The front, left sofa leg drops onto Dorothy’s tail and the couch is too heavy for Byron to pick up again. Dorothy cries struggling to run away, then Felicia’s jaw drops as a loud, deep, voice erupts from upstairs.

“What the fuck is goin’ on down there! I’m gettin’ my belt!”

Jeremiah’s father rushes down the concrete stairs and chases his two children around. The father lashes at Jeremiah, then Byron with the belt mercilessly. Felicia laughs while the entire event occurs. After whooping the children, the father lifts up the front, right sofa leg to release Dorothy’s tail. Dorothy then speeds up the stairs, crying. Felicia takes a large bite from her slice of pizza as welts grow across their bodies. In tears, Jeremiah and Byron yell at her.

Jeremiah’s Bedroom

“Jeremiah!” his father yells, knocking on the bedroom door.

Jeremiah takes off his white earphones to open the door. In front of him is his father’s grim look. His father is wearing black underwear and socks with small holes in them. He stares at Jeremiah with a dull look, then laughs. Before he utters one word from his mouth, his cell phone in his living room rings.

“Goddammit!” the father throws up his hands in a turning position while saying, “Give me one second… and pull up your pants!”

Jeremiah shuts his bedroom door as he hears the pleasant sound of a text message coming from his bed. He grabs his black phone from his pillow and sees a message from his friend Francesca. The message reads, “I love you.” Before he can press the send key for the message, “I love you too, ” his phone rings with the title “Dad.” A Jeremiah turns livid as he answers the phone.

“Hello” Jeremiah says.

He hears the sound of heavy breathing and dishes being cleaned from the kitchen. Thus, he ends the phone call. Francesca texts Jeremiah back, “Say it.”
Jeremiah texts her, “I love you too. My retarded dad called my phone again.” He opens his bedroom door and walks in the kitchen. The father nonchalantly shrugs at him for no reason once so ever.

Jeremiah asks, “Did you just call me?”

The father yells, “What!”

“Did you call…”

The father interrupts, “What are you frowning for? I’m tired of you frowning around here! You ain’t got shit to frown about. I can take you to some locations in Chicago where I grew up at. Tell them you’re mad and they’ll look at you like you’re a damn fool. You have a supporting father who loves you!”

Calmly, Jeremiah says, “I’m not frowning. You’re just trying to start an argument…”

“Oh my God! You can’t get a job talkin’ like that! First off, I have my fuckin’ Bachelor’s and Master’s Degree in Business and Administration. Instead of trying to get on the defensive all the time, you need to be readin’ them books, so you can get a real job. After you get a job, you can get the fuck out my house. You’re starting to act like your brother now. I kicked his ass out and he couldn’t cut it in the real world. If he keeps acting up, he’s out for good.”

“I didn’t say anything…”

“You just did!”

“You didn’t let me finish my sentence,” Jeremiah says.

“You weren’t saying nothin’. I can call any one of my friends right now and they’ll all tell me the same thing about you. He’s depressed. Every time I come over, he doesn’t talk to me. People disassociate themselves with negative people. It lowers their spirit. The moment you leave the room, they’ll begin to say, “There’s somethin’ wrong with him. We’re not going to hire his ass. I’m a very open-minded person. My friend is a Jehovah’s Witness and I don’t believe in Jehovah.”

The demoralizing fact that he has to still listen to his father causes him to say, “How’d we get on this subject?”

“Listen! You came in here frowning and I’m telling you how you can change that! Those niggers nextdoor are a great example of what you don’t want to be like.”

“You’re black too. It’s not…”

“Listen! I’m the oldest. Listen to your elders.”

“They’re older than me and I’m nothing like them.”

“You think you know every damn thing! All that horror shit you’re into is real! Every time I go to the doctor, I make sure I pray because some of the same people working in the medical field can be witches! They can purposely inject you with HIV. Make sure they don’t drop their needle on the floor. This shit is real! The Illuminati? That’s real. When you’re burning in hell, I’m not gonna feel it. Daddy won’t feel it, but if you get right with God, you won’t have to worry. You need to stay on the subject.”

“That’s not what I was originally talking about. You’re trying to tell me to…”

“What were you talking about?”

“I can’t remember.”

“Exactly! That’s because I’m right. Now, clean up your room or get out of my house! Praise Jesus! Go pick up your brother from school, after that, do these fuckin’ dishes, take out the trash, clean the bathroom, clean your room, read the Bible, then we’ll have a talk. You spend too much time in that damn room anyway. You need to stay off social media. Okay?”

“Social media is how I promote my work. Maybe I’m in the room because…”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Jeremiah says.

The father hears his ringing phone, saying, “Who the fuck is it now?”

5:30 P.M.

“Would you hurry up! I have chores to do at home,” Jeremiah says.

Byron says, “This is the only free time I get.”

“At least you get to participate in after school activities. If football wasn’t enough for you, you stole the center of attention with the track team. You’re even on the cheerleading squad and am barely passing your classes. Meanwhile, I’m passing my classes just fine and am not allowed to join the wrestling team…”

“Don’t get mad at me! You’re just mad because you can’t get a damn girlfriend! I’m trying to bring this family together by being positive. You need to smile more and maybe people would want to be friends with you. I have no embarrassability.”

Byron slaps Jeremiah in the back of the head after licking the palm of his right hand, then runs across the street. Cruel students laugh at Jeremiah and tease him. He kicks over the trash can.

One rotund student with short, nappy, black hair and a black school uniform, says, “You’re a bitch! You’re just gonna let your bro smack you? Don’t ever come to Chicago. I’ll knock the glasses off of you if you come over here.”

Over 30 brainwashed students laugh at the stubborn bully’s remark. Jeremiah just walks away with a frown, reflecting on the indelible memories when he was bullied. Countless times, he was tripped in the hallway, struck in the face, stomped on the ground, and spit on purposely. The bully walks up to Jeremiah and lifts him in the air by his shirt with one hand. Jeremiah is more worried about what his father will think if 1 of the same 5 shirts he wears to school every week gets damaged. With ease, the bully drops the 90 pound Jeremiah on the ground where he lands on his knees. The landing is full of mud, which ruins the jeans he’s worn for 3 years in high school and white tennis shoes he’s worn 5 years prior.

It drizzles. As he walks away, a white van patiently follows him for two blocks. Thus, he panics, constantly peering at the driver through the tinted window. Immediately, the van makes a right turn, leaving his distance. Just when things couldn’t get creepier, a black convertible follows him at a slow pace while other cars speed down the road. Horrified, Jeremiah runs like his life depends on it.

6:25 P.M.

Jeremiah enters the gloomy apartment with his own key. His muddy tennis shoes are outside of the door, sitting on the shaggy, brown doormat. His father flicks on the living room light and glares in front of him. Jeremiah’s older brother is in the background laughing so hard that he nearly chokes on his lungs. Jeremiah lowers his head in shame as Byron turns off the living room light.

The father yells, “Turn that fuckin’ light back on! And wash up! You smell filthy! You should never smell that bad!”

The Following Day

Water from several sprinklers shoot out by accident and it’s snowing outside. It’s only 7:00 A.M. And Byron, with a brown afro wig attached to his head, runs down the school hallway. He has on a golden winter coat and a black book bag. Several teachers notice Byron and say nothing to him. Thus, Byron spins around them like a man on a basketball player. The student body laughs with each of them finding a way to ask Jeremiah the same question every day. That irritating question is, “Why does your brother run down the hallway?” An exhausted and depressed Jeremiah heads to his milk-white locker (which is made out of square-edged cobblestones) and opens it to stuff his book bag inside.

Next to him is a gorgeous woman with long, pink, curly hair, purple lips, a purple and black velvet dress, black, fishnet arm warmers, black and white, striped stockings, and black heels. As three jocks point in Jeremiah’s face to further humiliate him, they hear the fire alarm. Rumors quickly spread that Byron pulled the fire alarm when they look at their text messages. To make matters worse, Byron runs back down the hall as security chases him. Byron jumps over a trash can, running on top of the lockers, and jumps down several flight of stairs.

Jeremiah takes his English textbook out of the locker. A little person (with short, black, curly hair, a black t-shirt too large for him, a spider necklace, sagging blue jeans, and black shoes) who appears to be African American, Latin American, and Jewish approaches him. The little person says, “Was that your brother?” Jeremiah responds, “Yes.” The gorgeous woman beside Jeremiah says, “Why do you always ask him that? Leave him alone and go somewhere else.”

Francesca texts Jeremiah, “What did your dad say when he said he was gay?”

“Jeremiah texts back, “He has a problem with it considering he cried about it on the couch for over 3 minutes while giving me a speech about morality. He’s still gay to this day.”

“That was 3 years ago. You need a new place to stay. Is he allowing you to get a job yet? I thought my mom was bad,” she texts back.

“I told you before. Nobody wants to take me in. If I get a job, I wouldn’t be able to focus on school. That’s what he says. I can focus.”

“Weirdo,” Francesca texts back.

Jeremiah walks down the hall and the gorgeous woman follows him. Why does he have to fear talking to women? A muscular man named Deandre (with black dreadlocks, an unbuttoned, red and black, plaid jacket revealing his chest, black pants, and black tennis shoes) smacks him in the back of the head. Jeremiah turns around and notices a fearless face on Deandre. His bully is holding a large, half-empty, transparent protein shake.

“Turn around,” Deandre says with a ghetto accent.

She speaks to them, “Leave him alone.”

“What you mean? You got a new man,” Chris yells.

Deandre’s buddy, Chris laughs. Deandre squeezes Diamond’s buttocks, then gives his buddy a high five. She turns around and slaps Chris across the face. By the time she looks ahead, Jeremiah is walking alone with no interest. She walks forward, following him down the corridors, but the bullies keep her company.

“Leave my boyfriend alone,” she yells.

They laugh. Again, Deandre smacks him in the back of the head as the student body laughs. Jeremiah speeds up, but Chris pushes him. Jeremiah loses his balance, falling into a red brick wall. Louder, the student body gets. Even the school principal on the intercom laughs after watching what occurs from one out of hundreds of monitors.

English Class

Several students crush paper balls and throw them at Jeremiah. Meanwhile, he overhears his older brother yelling in the next room. There’s a mixture of emotions; some of the students in Basic Math react with yelling and laughter, which causes the students in Jeremiah’s English class to rise, looking next door. In a Basic Math class, Byron throws a desk at a pregnant woman, then strikes a male teacher. It takes approximately three security officers to restrain Byron to the white tiled floor while Jeremiah’s class shame never stops reminding him of the incident.

Lunch

On the right side of the cafeteria, Diamond
is resting in a hand-woven hammock, which is tied to two, authentic palm trees, parallel to one another. She’s reading a book while he orders the same unhealthy lunch as always. Nachos and cheese and small, chocolate milk are on his grey tray, and he sits at an empty table. Deandre and Chris, sitting three tables away make offensive gay jokes and claims he does have a girlfriend. Never did Jeremiah know that a bully can be more right about something they said.

Jeremiah enters the internet on a nearby computer, heads on Francesca’s social media account and notices a computer error page. First, her social media page shows him her personal inbox messages of two men she’s been flirting with. One of the messages read, “Hey baby.” Another message reads, “Hit me up.” An enraged Jeremiah clicks on his profile page, which has 176 friends he never spoke to.

He messages her, “What the fuck! You’re a cheater.”

Seconds later, “he receives an inbox message from her racist dad who hacked her account, “Stay away from my daughter you fucking nigger. If I see your fucking ass in Minnesota, we’re going to fight.”

Jeremiah responds to her father, “Fuck you asshole. If I have to bring my ass to Minnesota, you better believe you’re not seeing your daughter again. You’re a rapist and you don’t deserve to live.”

Deandre walks by, holding a tray with three slices of pepperoni pizzas a dainty, red apple, and a water bottle, saying, “You’re gonna eat those nachos?”

Chris says, “Yo. Let me have that milk.”

Behind the bullies is Diamond, yelling at them, “Bye!”

A smiling Chris takes a chocolate milk from her tray, then leaves with his friend. Jeremiah exits his screen, closes his laptop, and carries it down the hallway. He suffers flashbacks of his father arguing at his brother as he’s walking down the hallway, saying, “It’s 1:00 A.M. and we’ve been talking ever since 3:30 P.M.. Do I need to call the police?” His brother says, “That don’t explain why you’d rip up my books.” His father says, “You weren’t writing shit anyway. You’ve been working on that demonic shit for five years and all I see is junk surrounding the room.

As Diamond follows Jeremiah, he proceeds having a flashback of an argument in a living room, hearing his father’s voice, “Every fucking day! My mother and father wouldn’t put up with my mouth, and I’m going to give you the benefit of a doubt by throwing away all of your so-called books if you don’t keep this room clean. I can take you to the places where I’ve seen exorcisms. If you serve the devil so much, stab your brother while he’s asleep.”

“Why do you always frown,” Diamond softly asks, taking him out of the traumatic flashback.

“I’m depressed.”

“You can sit with my friends. We’re all weird.

He automatically receives a text message from someone named Gwen and the message reads, “Sorry I’m getting back to you now. I was getting my children ready for bed last night, then I fell asleep. I’m a horrible friend.”

A demonic, disembodied voice occurs in his mind, “She cheated on you. She said she never date you. Virgin boy. What a loser still living with his father. That’s why she has three children and got married without you…”

Diamond hugs Jeremiah before walking him toward the table, comforting him with the word, “Smile,” then introduces him to two geeks sitting at a table, “Phil. Angela. Meet my friend Jeremiah. Jeremiah, meet Phil and Angela.”

He sits at the table, then sits his laptop down. Phil, age 14 has a black ponytail, reading glasses, braces, a black and white flannel shirt over a pristine, white t-shirt, blue shorts, and black tennis shoes. Jeremiah notices Phil is preoccupied, developing a 3D video game on his black laptop using codes. He nearly cringes when Phil smiles, then turns his attention to Angela. Angela has a green mohawk, a green, fishnet blouse under a black, leather biker jacket, black jeans, and black tennis shoes.

Angela says, “Hey there. Welcome to the gang.”

Phil gets furious, saying with an effeminate voice, “You can’t welcome him yet. He needs the proper initiation.”

Diamond smiles and says, “If you want to be introduced into the gang, you have to promise me…”

Angela says, “Us…”

Joking, Diamond continues speaking, “…Us that you’ll complete the initiation ceremony for us wolves and vampires. Part of the initiation is not knowing what the initiation is.”

“No. Wait. Are you going to sacrifice me?”

Phil’s face turns to shock as he says, “No way! We don’t run around sacrificing people. We’re anime nerds…”

Diamond interrupts, “I’m not an anime nerd, but these are my nerds, so you’re very welcomed to complete the initiation today if you want to join the gang.”

“Sure,” Jeremiah says.

Diamond kisses Jeremiah on the lips passionately. Jeremiah’s eyes widen. The student body is surprised. Phil and Angela jealously cheer. She ends the kiss with a flirtatious smile.

Then, Diamond says, “You’re initiated.”

It’s not real. Jeremiah wakes up from a reverie at the table. Phil has his hand extended with a smile like from an infomercial. Angela walks by hugging Phil from behind. Phil still has his hand extended and Jeremiah firmly shakes it. Before Phil kisses Angela, she greets Jeremiah, “Hey friend.”

Phil says, “Did anyone ever tell you that you look just like…”

Deandre interrupts talking to Angela, “Your brother has heart, but you’re a bitch.”

Jeremiah sighs. He automatically leaves the table with his laptop as Diamond shakes her head sideways at Deandre. A petite brunette exits the gymnasium, running and throws a basketball at the back of Jeremiah’s head. He drops his computer and it crashes to the tiled floor, shattering the screen. The student body laughs as Jeremiah falls forward. He turns around and proceeds walking when Deandre gets in a fighting stance.

“He’s going to get his brother on you if you don’t stop!” Chris says.

Photography Class

Jeremiah is watching a film clip on the wall from a black projector and notices a triangle flash in front of a peephole. He then sees a Baphomet sign on the bottom. right corner near a trash can in the movie clip. Twenty other students don’t notice the symbology that Jeremiah notices. Jeremiah can’t keep quiet.

“Did you notice that triangle flash in the center of that peephole,” he asks Ms. Bickerbase.

“Yes,” she replies.

“The Baphomet was on the bottom, right side of the screen.”

Ms. Bickerbase remains silent, then Helen, (a student sitting across from her) says, “I’m quite fascinated by this magnificent piece. It’s a beautiful reflection of surrealism.”

“Oh hush,” she says.

Students laugh as the student says, “No, really.”

Ms. Bickerbase rises and says, “I’m going to play devil’s advocate. This film clip looks like it was filmed under my husband’s bedsheets and he didn’t wash up for three days straight. If you want to be a great filmmaker, have tough skin, lick some balls, and squeeze them where it hurts. I’ve been teaching for over twenty years and I’m in front of you right this moment because I love my…”

The student sarcastically says, “Blow.”

“Job,” she comes to awareness of the students sarcastic comment and says, “Hey. That my friend is surreal.”

Jeremiah lowers his head as the student replies, “Oh yeah.”

Ms. Bickerbase says, “Your girlfriend turns out to have a racist dad. He argues with you online, but you’re an introverted loner who hardly has permission to leave his house because you have an over controlling parent. Quick. You all are here for a reason. You all are film directors in the making. If you don’t believe you have what it takes, you’re at the wrong school. Top my idea. Clara.”

Jeremiah stares at Ms. Bickerbase. His face doesn’t change. The school bell rings and everyone rises. He sighs.

Clara says, “Two burglars break into a suicide hotline company, kills everyone, except a little girl who came in for ‘Dad and Daughter Day’, then the girl changes their lives. The police had her hostage as police surround the company. The girl gives wonderful advice to suicidal callers on the phone, which changes the lives of the burglars. Afterwards, the bad guys then turn theirselves in. Bravo.”

Jeremiah is the first one to rush out of the classroom, then Diamond sneaks behind him down the hallway, saying, “Hey friend. Who’s your favorite Wiccan?”

“There are no good witches.”

Diamond removes her hands, saying, “Yeah huh.”

“The last friend I had had one eye larger than the other. He got on drugs and stole from me.”

Diamond makes and explosion sound with her mouth. She heals his headache with a touch as he sees a dark spirit of a man standing in front of the exit. Jeremiah’s eyes are too blurry to see the spirit, but once Diamond hands him his glasses, the spirit vanishes. Quickly, he grabs his glasses. Many students pass them up as they stop.

“I’m sorry to hear about your friend. I cleaned your specs for you. I’m gonna hang out with Phil and Angela at my place for battle card night. If you want to join, you can.”

“I’d love to go, it’s just…”

“Your dad should give you a credit card or something. Your brother told me about it.”

“I hate him. I almost thought you…”

She interrupts, “Oh, brother. I can predict the future. You’re going to grow up old and lonely if you don’t learn to talk to women. You’re my type of weird and I like you. What do you say?”

“I would…”

“I’m just pullin’ your green card.”

“Too far,” he says.

Christmas

It’s 9:00 A.M.. Byron is playing the video game in his filthy underwear, then slams the controller. Jeremiah sits on his bed as his brother rises with rage. Byron strikes Jeremiah in the left rib cage, the right jaw, and the testicles. Then, Byron chokes him until he’s unconscious. Byron laughs about what he did as Jeremiah wakes up.

“Some people don’t know how angry I can get,” Byron says.

Wearing a striped, brown and white t-shirt and blue jeans, Jeremiah walks in the kitchen, smelling smoke. His father (in black underwear) is facing a naked guy on a video chat session on his cell phone. Jeremiah’s comfort zone is dead. The father darts his head around with a tinge of anger. Then, he turns over his cell phone on the counter.

His father says, “What?”

“My brother keeps beating on me.”

“That’s what brother’s do. Man up. I’m going through shit. Don’t you see I’m handling your brother’s psychological evaluations every damn week. The school knows my name from how often I walk up there. I’m dealing with unprofessional people on the phone every day who aren’t about good customers service. Tell your brother to stop. I’m tired of telling him. What are you going to do when you get older and get married? Tell? In the workforce, there’s going to be many people like your brother.”

Byron slips on blues jeans, a black shirt, then shoes. He sprays a small, transparent bottle of cologne on his armpits although he didn’t take a shower today. Flies roam around his body. Jeremiah turns his face in utter disgust. The smell is unforgetful.

Byron walks out the room and says, “Dad. Can I go over my girlfriend’s house today?”

The father says, “Yes. Finish your homework when you get back.”

Jeremiah says, “Can I take a walk outside?”

“Where? Why?” his father says then laughs, “Are you trying to leave me?”

“No. I want to take a walk to think,” Jeremiah replies.

The father says, “Think? Think about what? Blowing up the school? That’s the problem with this world. People want to go anywhere without a purpose and let evil flow in their mind like meditation. Read your Bible. It’ll help you with your pain. Some day, you’ll thank me. Jehovah is God.

Byron leaves the house as Jeremiah says, “I’m going in my room.”

The father says, “Don’t let people waste your time.”

4:20 P.M.

Jeremiah throws the Bible against the plaster wall out of rage and hears his father yell, “What’s that noise?”

Jeremiah rises from the bottom bunkbed, exits the bedroom, then says, “I was cleaning up in my room and a book fell from the top shelf.”

“You better be cleaning. Shit! You need to figure out where you’re gonna work. What do you want to do with your life?”

“I was thinking about starting off as a package handler or…”

The father interrupts, “That don’t pay any money. Just concentrate on school. If you get a job, you’ll lose focus. When you get to college, focus on school, get your degree, then get a job. You ain’t got it hard right now. You don’t have children.”

“I really want a job.”

“Doing what?”

“I just…”

“You ain’t sayin’ nothin’.

Jeremiah gets a text message. He digs in his right pocket and takes out his cell phone. His father tilts his head, then makes a thunderous yell.

“Turn your cell phone off when you’re talking to me! That’s disrespectful. Your ass will never hold a job doing that. Look me in my eyes. I’m not over there. You ain’t goin’ through shit. God is real and you’ll know on your deathbed.”

The father’s cell phone rings, which makes him answer it before saying to his son, “Gone!”

Jeremiah enters his bedroom, sits on the bottom bunkbed, then faces his phone. Francesca’s name pops up. Automatically, hatred is wrapped around his face. While his father yells over the phone about bad customers service at a retail store for not getting his order shipped to him, a bullet sound is heard. A woman’s shrilling scream comes from 4 floors beneath him.

He reads Francesca’s message, which says, “My dad hacked into my email earlier, then decided to contact you while I was over my grandma’s house. He ruins everything for me. I love you so much and I don’t want to lose you.”

He texts back, “I love you too.”

She texts back, “Have you ever thought about finding someone to stay with?”

“Like a million times online and in-person talks.”

“I know you’re not a talker. Talking is an excellent way to get a job. I bet you’re in that same room from where our last video chat was. How’s it feel to sit around all day and do nothing?”

“I write. Who’s your favorite celebrity? Whether they write, sing, draw, or whatever, I can say they’re nothing. I didn’t know money can make a nobody something. You’re a liar. You never liked me. You’re trying to set me up. Bye.”

The Next Day

Before the father leaves the apartment, he speaks with his children, “I’m going to be out for a while. If anyone knocks on the door, don’t open it. They can say they’re the president of the United States, but don’t open it.”

They enter back in he bedroom as the father leaves. Jeremiah’s brother is in the same filthy underwear from yesterday. Now, Byron’s editing movie clips with a VCR, then tells Jeremiah to press the record button while he has a movie on pause. Thus, he presses the record button on the VCR and Byron presses the play button with a grey remote control. Byron tells a depressed Jeremiah to insert press stop and insert in a video game to record. Jeremiah gives him a frown.

“Why do you always have to frown? How can you not see without those thick glasses of yours?”

Byron snatches Jeremiah’s glasses off of his face, wears them, and says, “I’m Jeremiah! I’m going home with my fat ass wife to beat her! Wait. I don’t have a wife. I’m a stupid dumbass who can’t wrestle.”

“Give me my glasses back. That doesn’t sound like me.”

Byron runs out the bedroom and jumps over the living room couch, “Then says, “If you tell your dad, I swear I’ll kill him, then you. I’m not scared of anything. You’ll never know what it’s like to have a girlfriend.

Byron walks on the balcony as Jeremiah says, “You’re not the only one who’s angry.”

Byron runs in Jeremiah’s face and pushes him to the floor near a glass table. Byron kicks him in the chest, then leaves the house. After slamming his fists on the floor, gnashing his teeth together, he rises. A white coffee mug that’s sitting on the kitchen counter disappears when he blinks .

He then reads a text from Diamond, which says, “I’m going to the mall with my boyfriend. If you want to join, you can. It’ll be something to do.”

“No thanks. My schizophrenic brother just beat me.”

“It’s always about your brother. I have a brother too, you know? Tell me something about you.”

“He forced me to draw in pictures that he feels are creative, but rips them up even if they are. He forces me to read 14 of his unpublished stories, then try to get me to help him write it. I have tons of ideas, but he don’t use my advice because he can’t get pass the 14nth page. By the time he gets pass page 300, I’ll be in fucking college or some shit. When I ask him why he does this, he says because he’s angry, then when the conversation gets deeper, he forgets. I want to get out of here. I hope they all die.”

“Juicy” she texts back, “Your brother’s really popular. Support him. I’d be damned if my little brother downed me all the time.”

“His girlfriend is a crippled witch and nobody know but me.”

“I know.”

“Fine. And you’re comfortable with the world the way it is with all the magic you have?”

“I’m content.”

“Fuck you,” he texts back.

2 Hours Later

It’s 4:00 P.M.. Jeremiah’s dad arrives back in the apartment. He shuts the door, then takes off his black baseball cap and leather jacket. Then, his cell phone rings, but he notices a gigantic hole in the the living room wall. Rage rapes his soul.

The dad yells, “What the hell! Byron! Jeremiah! Get out of here!”

Bedroom

Byron whispers in Jeremiah’s ear, “Please take this whoopin’ for me. I’ll let you play with the wrestling toys and the video game for 3 hours.

Jeremiah responds, “If I take the blame, I won’t live to do that.”

“Please!”

The father’s loud footsteps shake the floor. He bangs on their bedroom door. Jeremiah opens the door looking at his father holding a leather belt in his hand with a tight grip. Jeremiah has a flashback of Byron doing backflips on the wall. It was when Byron jumped on his back while he was standing up, he lost his equilibrium. Thus, that’s how the hole got in the wall.

Saliva flies out of his mouth, as he deeply yells, “Who the fuck put a hole in the wall?”

Byron points at Jeremiah as Jeremiah speaks, “He…”

The father interrupts, “Did you put a hole I. The wall! I was going to take y’all asses to Florida to see…”

His cell phone rings and Jeremiah points at Byron, yelling, “He did it!”

The dad yells, “I’m whoopin’ both y’all asses!”

1 hour later

Jeremiah exits his room and his father attempts to scare him by jumping from out the bathroom, making a monster sound. Jeremiah’s face shows how deeply he disdains his father. His father turns away, then starts humming.

Felicia is sitting on the living room couch, which surprises Jeremiah. Her hands form a pyramid shape, resting on her lap. That’s the moment Jeremiah knows this false Atheist is working for a dark hierarchy. Felicia walks into his room without greeting him. He turns around while his father approaches him.

His father says, “Did you find out what your test results are? In order for you to volunteer, you have to not have HIV., tuberculosis, and all those other diseases. Make sure you get your blood work back.”

“I contacted them and they’re going to tell me tomorrow. I know I don’t have HIV because I’m away from others too long to have sex.”

“You need to go outside. Open up those blinds. The light can make a major difference in a day. The reason I’m constantly moving furniture around this place is because I’m constantly looking for perfection. You don’t know what your doctors put in those needles. Don’t fear anyone, but God and you’re straight. I’m through.”

“You try to make me fear you though.”

“Don’t disrespect the Lord! You can pack your bags and leave if you continue!”

Jeremiah heads in his room and hears Felicia saying, “Can I play your game?”

He imagines cutting her right index finger off with black bolt cutters while she’s tied up to a mattress soaked in gasoline. After exiting his fantasy, he grabs his coat, black book bag, and leaves the apartment. Felicia looks at Byron with a smile.

Felicia says, “Where’s he goin’?”

The Following Day

Deandre is holding a handgun by his locker while Chris watches. The school principal walks down the hallway, greets them, and proceeds walking ahead. It’s a heartbreaking scene, for Jeremiah thinks about countless times he got detention just for drawing horror pictures. Numerous times, students even went so far as to say he threatened to blow up the school, regardless of the altercations. He’s absolutely sick of being taken advantage of.

Jeremiah has a black hooded jacket with a hood covering his head. A black mask made out of wool and lightening designs all around covers his face. His jeans are black and his boots are black. Immediately, he walks away as Chris notices Jeremiah walking. Jeremiah passes an exhausted drug addict sitting by the men’s bathroom door, resting her back against the wall. Then, he enters the middle stall to grab a semi-automatic firearm from his book bag.

Deandre enters the bathroom and gets shot in the head. Blood splatters across the walls as Chris hesitates to move, speechlessly in shock. Chris gets shot on the right side of the buttocks, then in the midst of the spinal cord.

Planet-Rated

© May 11, 2017. All Rights Reserved.

It’s somewhat of a frozen fog in the dayspring. Across the street from a local, burning police station, there’s a 3-year-old in a tear-drenched, sea-green shirt and milk-white diaper. She weeps in the center of overgrown ryegrass as cloud-colored rain descends before her fearful eyes. The black clouds rest temporarily in front of the vermillion sky as lightening occurs. Beside her is a bloody index finger of an adult male.

“Latricia!” her mother calls.

Latricia whines, “Momma!”

Swift footsteps bypass her lonesomeness as hundreds of screaming humans are victims of bloodshed. Her mother’s familiar voice gets closer, nevertheless, she hears the sound of her mother’s death. It’s an unsettling squeal from an activated bomb in midair. Latricia sees her mother diagonally falling backwards from her eyesight; thus, she hears the impact of her mother’s landing, which is in a large, cold lake. Blood splatters across the ryegrass. There’s two, large, grey, egg-shaped spaceships and one in particular is star-shaped.

6 Hours Later

There’s an abduction. She’s whining in a green-glowing, transparent container with a plastic cannula injected on the left side of her arm. On her right side, there’s a fish tank with a different species, looking like fresh apples, but form into a weblike texture. Two monitors are in one section, which shows a map of the town and a close-up image of her. Beside the monitors, there’s an adult eyeball attached to a cactus in a sealed, glass container. Gothic pictures of aliens are levitating, circling the walls horizontally.

A bluish-green, ancient alien with six fingers on each hand has a tight grip on a tomahawk. The alien is wearing a black robe and gas mask, vanishing in Latricia’s blurry eyesight. Against her will, she’s levitating in the air. She whines like her life depends on it. The alien forces a blue pacifier in Latricia’s mouth. Latricia stops whining once she descends from the opening floor. Her back gingerly touches the ryegrass.

With Latricia’s eyes locked on the egged-shaped spaceship, a mahogany, framed picture of her deceased mother descends. The picture is in the center of a circular, vivid red light. Three spaceships storm out of her sight as a thunderstorm occurs. Then, Latricia sees a 17-year-old boy, eyeing her. Gingerly, he picks her up.

The boy says, “Let’s get you home.”

My Peculiar

© May 9, 2017. All Rights Reserved.

Aprilyn: (Sitting on the refrigerator) What did you say before ya wasted her?

Christabel: Checkmate. I said it in a soft, amusing voice. Bang! Then, I shot her at point-blank range in my cold bedroom. Blood splattered on her brand-new dreamcatcher, which had a cream color, hung on the ocean blue, plaster wall. She limped breathlessly into the hallway as I reloaded my semi-automatic pistol. Bang! Her back trembled with blood. She turned her head and fell down the spiral, wooden stairway.

Aprilyn: That’s ‘nough fo’ now. This game ain’t fo’ me. Leave the light off and toss me my keys.

Christabel: Don’t you want to know more of the details to the story?

Aprilyn: I’ll pass.

Christabel: Away.

Aprilyn: Christy, you’ll pass long befo’ me if ya don’t shut up!

Christaline: I will not!

Aprilyn: I’m startin’ ta think ya committed these crimes. All I asked you ta do was toss me the keys! Don’t have me…

Christaline: Get them yourself! How can I see your keys with the lights off?

Aprilyn: If ya ain’t gonna to toss ‘em, scram! (There’s a knock at the front door) I got it.

Christabel: Without the keys…

Aprilyn: I heard that! (Aprilyn opens the front door) What, you doin’ here?

Officer Jade: Hello.

Aprilyn: ’xcuse me! Hello! You ain’t got a warrant ta be here. This my property…

Officer Jade: I’m Officer Jade. Do you happen to know anyone named Christabel?

Aprilyn: Yeah. That’s my sis’. Why?

Officer Jade: Jade insisted we meet at this address on a date.

Aprilyn: Who is you? My sis’ ain’t got the hots for cops!

Officer Jade: I repeat. I’m Officer Jade. Your mother raised you right. You should work on smiling more. Being a police officer may be my job, but outside of my uniform, I’m just like everybody else.

Aprilyn: Huh? My sis’ neva told me ‘bout you. She tells me everything. What’s her name?

Officer Jade: Did Christabel tell you that she’s moving out next week?

Aprilyn: Wait! What? Movin’ where?

Officer Jade: Is it so hard to believe? I’ve been seeing your sister for quite some time now.

Aprilyn: I swear on everything, quit making up stories! If my sis’ was movin’ out, she would’ve told me. I’ve never seen you in my life, so get ta steppin’!

Officer Jade: For crying out loud, since you’re so big, bad, and tough, I would like to know what you’re going do! I tried to be nice, but I don’t need your approval to date your sister. Now, if you’ll excuse yourself, I’m waiting on my date.

Aprilyn: My bad, Mr. Officer. If you want my sis’, you go through me.

Officer Jade: You must have short-term memory loss because I know some cellmates that can keep you company. If you aren’t too thrilled about that, I’ll sprinkle some dope on you and call for backup.

Aprilyn: You’re gonna need backup. (She calls for her sister) Christabel! (She then talks to Officer Jade) My sis’ would neva date a man like you! You’re violatin’ my constitutional rights!

Officer Jade: Test me!

Aprilyn: Stay then! (Sigh) We’re gonna get this straightened out today. Can I help you?

Officer Jade: Now, that’s more like it. (She walks inside and shuts the door) That’s very kind of you to ask. As a matter of fact you can start by calling your sister down so we can go on our date. Thank you. I appreciate it.

Aprilyn: (Sarcasm) Thank you. ‘preciate it.

Officer Jade: I’m waiting!

Aprilyn: Christabel!

Officer Jade: I love your sister very much, and I’m going to marry her.

Aprilyn: No the hell you ain’t!

Officer Jade: (She points at her badge) What do you think I am?

Aprilyn: Christabel! Christabel! Get down here! There’s a psychopath in the house!

Christabel: (Walks downstairs removing earphones) What’s all the commotion!

Aprilyn: Some hoochie cop came bargin’ in this house sayin’ she’s gonna marry you! You came down just in time! I was five seconds away from beatin’ her to death with her windpipe!

Christabel: (Talks to Officer Jade) Jade! I miss you, girl! Where have you been!

Officer Jade: With you. Remember? Tell her the truth or I’m taking you in!

Christabel: (Talks to Aprilyn) I’m sorry. We’re scheduled to be on a date today.

Officer Jade: That’s right, sweet cheeks! That’s my girl!

Aprilyn: Hold up! A date, how? When? Jade! You neva told me you like women!

Christabel: Well, you’re a woman.

Aprilyn: I shelter you! How did you meet this hooch and how many times did she profile you?

Christabel: Not anymore, you don’t! Jade is one of the few good officers around the neighborhood.

Officer Jade: Your sister has a point there. You are a woman.

Aprilyn: Answer me! You’re ‘pose to be my sis! You’re ‘pose to tell me everything! I thought we were close, but it appears that we’re not!

Officer Jade: Can you please calm your sister down? Christy, I know you’re the youngest, but she can learn a lot from you. You can stay at my place if you like.

Christabel: (She talks to Aprilyn) I need to get going. Bye.

Aprilyn: Leave and you ain’t gettin’ back in!

Officer Jade: We met on an online website, and I just so happen to be in the same state as her.

Aprilyn: What the…

Christabel: Please, don’t get mad. This is why I didn’t want to tell you. We were going to meet at a public place.

Aprilyn: You ain’t think I was goin’ to find out? Good lookin’. You’re puttin’ our lives in danger! You two need to leave my crib right now! This is too much!

Christabel: (She talks to Aprilyn) Calm down! I’m going! Why don’t you just kill me while you have the chance?

Officer Jade: I would never allow that to happen.

Christabel: Just let me get my bags and I’ll be out of your way.

Aprilyn: You seriously trust a crooked cop ya met on a datin’ site? Which site was it? I thought you had a head on ya, but ya proved me wrong.

Christabel: (She talks to Aprilyn) You’ve been on countless dating websites. I only contacted one person. … Just one person! You’re jealous that I found somebody incredible and wants to spend the rest of their life with me. We‘re serious about one another and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Aprilyn: You don’t know if she’s serious. I’m tryin’ to protect you.

Officer Jade: (Talks to Aprilyn) Listen up. You can’t protect your sister your whole life. While you was out getting wasted at clubs, I was out sneaking in Jade’s bedroom window. If I wanted to arrest you, I would’ve been done it.

Aprilyn: (She talks to Officer Jade) Can we not start this? (She speaks to Jade) If you really trusted this cop, you would’ve told me about her.

Officer Jade: (Draws out a gun at Aprilyn) She trusts me! Stay calm!

Aprilyn: I didn’t do anything. Ya barged into my house and drew ya burner out on me!

Christabel: (She talks to Aprilyn) Just calm down. We’ll never get anywhere arguing back and forth.

Aprilyn: Calm down? She has a burner…

Christabel: She has her ways of being herself. And if you can’t accept that, you just aren’t my sister anymore.

Officer Jade: You hear that sweet cheeks? I’m the only sister she needs.

Christabel: Praise sisterhood

Aprilyn: Why…

Officer Jade: (She talks to Aprilyn) You’re not the brightest sister, are you? (She talks to Christabel) Baby, get the chair from the kitchen.

Christabel: At your service, babe.

Officer Jade: Turn on the television while you’re at it! I’ll be back there with you after I’m done with your sister!

Aprilyn: This was a plan? You set me up! If ya want loot, you can have it!

Officer Jade: Aprilyn, it’s not the money we want. You can barely pay off your own rent. Sit down. Watch yourself. (She talks to Christabel) Grab something to tie her up.

Aprilyn: I’m a law abidin’ citizen.

Officer Jade: Hmmm…

Christabel: (She exits her bedroom with a bedsheets and ties Aprilyn’s hands behind her back) Mission complete, ma’am. I feel like a real cop now.

Officer Jade: (She talks to Christabel) My partner in crime can never let me down. (She talks to Aprilyn) You look a little tied up.

Christabel: (She closes the white curtains) Yes, she does.

Officer Jade: (She talks to Christabel) You know just what to say.

Christabel: I cooked dinner just for tonight. Leave her there, so she can think about what she did.

Officer Jade: (She stares at Aprilyn while talking to Christabel) Now, I’ve known you for five years and you never told me you could cook. Aprilyn’s the work of art around here.

Aprilyn: When my homeboys find out ‘bout this…

Christabel: It looks like somebody can benefit from a time out. I’m here to protect you, so just calm down and face the wall until you figure out what you’ve done!

Aprilyn: I ain’t done…

Christabel: Lying to the police is a crime.

Officer Jade: While you’re thinking, hold my jacket. (She tosses her jacket on Aprilyn’s head) Thank you.

Christabel: Nice catch!

Officer Jade: I don’t like your sister. This job don’t pay me enough for this.

Christabel: You make more money than me. Embrace yourself.

Officer Jade: I got taste for something spicy.

Christabel: Like when you ate a ghost pepper at the same time you had a phone interview. (She laughs) I was watching and you thought I wouldn’t forget. You forgot to end the video call, but you got a little choked up!

Officer Jade: That’s last weeks news. I was drunk that night and there’s no reason why our company needs to hear that.

Aprilyn: Untie me! Get these ropes off of me!

Christabel: (She talks to Aprilyn) If you’re a good big sister, I’ll untie you, but as for now, you’ll remain silent and think about what you did.

Aprilyn: What did I do!

Officer Jade: Shut up! Your sister doesn’t like me. She’s trying to get me fired, love.

Christabel: Aprilyn! I’m going to cover your mouth if you don’t shut it.

Aprilyn: Aaaaahhh! Aaaaaahhh! Aaaaahh!

Christabel: (She covers Aprilyn’s mouths with a white bed sheet) We told you to shut it. No food for you tonight. We don’t have to feed you if you keep acting up.

Officer Jade: Big bucks comin’ through. The lottery is on.

Aprilyn: (Removes the bed sheet with her mouth) You won’t win the lottery anyway! The whole system is rigged! The lottery should have affirmative action!

Christabel: (Tightly ties the bed sheet around Aprilyn) Spoken like a true hustler. That’s enough from you, now. (She talks to Jade) She has quite the motivation for the lottery. I guess those men must’ve whacked her a few times too many.

Officer Jade: Talk about it. I had my luck with men and it’s one dirty game after another. I grew tired of being in last place, so look at me now. I have no man in sight and I’m still fine.

Aprilyn: (Removes the bed sheet with her mouth again) That’s because you’re a man! Now, get me…

Christabel: (Tightly ties the bed sheet around Aprilyn’s mouth) I said shut up! How many times do I have to tell you?

Officer Jade: You need to learn how to tie a knot.

Christabel: I know right!

Officer Jade: Let me show you how it’s done. (She ties the knot) There. Your brain will thank me later.

Christabel: Thanks…

Officer Jade: (Watching television) This could be it.

On-Air Host: Welcome back to The Acres Table! I’m your host, five time award-winning song artist and the three time youngest hall of famer, Melody Winks. This is the show that everyone’s talking about! I’m excited because we are live in Montreal, Quebec where we’ve broken an audience attendance record of five hundred thousand people. Millions are tuned in, eager for the chance to win the Acres Table grand prize…

Officer Jade: This could be my lucky night.

Christabel: I’m starting to think The Acres Table is rigged. Everyone I know who ever gambled never won anything. My uncle gambled his rent money and lost it. He then begged me and my sister for the money. He makes the same stupid mistake almost every week.

Officer Jade: You’ve never gambled before. When I’m done watching the Acres Table, we’re going to hide your sister and go out to eat.

Melody Winks: Last episode, nobody matched the code for the sixth consecutive week.

Christabel: There’s no freaking way you’re going to win this scam.

Officer Jade: Thank you, Christy! You’re so sweet!

Christabel: If you let me be. Let me keep you warm. I know it’s cold outside.

Melody Winks: If your ticket matches tonight’s code, you could be a eighty-million dollars richer.

Christabel: Melody’s quite the actress… Two years ago, I drove pass her book signing and never stopped.

Melody Winks: Tonight’s winning, grand prize starts now. The first code piece is spider… If you don’t have spider, then I don’t know what to tell you!

Officer Jade: I have spider!

Melody Winks: The rest of the code is castle, four-leaf clover, crown, dinosaur, sword, treasure chest, and elf.

Officer Jade: (Screams) I have the matching code! I won! I won eighty-million dollars!

Christabel: You’re lying.

Officer Jade: Look! See? I have all the matching codes that Melody said.

Christabel: We won? Holy…

Officer Jade: Jackpot, baby!

Aprilyn: (Screams) Help me! Help me!

Christabel: Now, she can speak English!

Officer Jade: Cover that tramp up before she get us locked up!

Aprilyn: Who ya callin’ a tramp? From what I heard, ya didn’t win eighty million. That hoochie cop won.

Christabel: No! Me and my Jade are rich and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’m going to live with my Jade…

Aprilyn: Ask her if you both won.

Christabel: (She ties a bed sheet around Aprilyn’s mouth) Just shut up! You’re jealous!

Melody Winks: If you have that code, you have a full week to contact the Acres Table before your chance at being eighty-million dollars richer expires.

Christabel: You’re sharing the money with me, right?

Melody Winks: If you don’t cash in on this chance, I don’t know what’s so great that you’ll pass up this life changing opportunity.

Christabel: Why are you silent? This is our money, right!

Melody Winks: Thank you for watching. I’ll see you next week on another episode of Acres Table. Goodnight.

Christabel: You’re not cashing in that ticket alone. The money don’t change us!

Officer Jade: Take a seat.

Christabel: I’ll stand.

Officer Jade: I have the money and the woman of my dreams, so there’s nothing more I can ask for.

Christabel: You’re such a joker. (She talks to Aprilyn) My girlfriend would never betray me.

Melody Winks: Last week, you’ve learned how easy it is to gain relationships with online predators, but this week, you’ll learn what makes them tick. Hello. Howdy… I’m your host, Melody Winks and you’re watching…

Officer Jade: I can’t watch that show.

Christabel: We should share our own bank account. It’d be a fresh start on the memories we spend together.

Officer: Let me think for a moment.

Christabel: Think? Think?

Officer Jade: Yes, think. I don’t want to squander eighty million dollars before my lifetime. With so much money, we need to proper invest in it. I should broaden my horizons. I mean, we should broaden our horizons.

Christabel: What do you have in mind? Getting a lawyer is a waste of time and money. I’m sure you know how to count money. I know how to count money and I’ve never graduated high school. My sister graduated and she didn’t turn out right.

Officer Jade: Good point. What if I arrest your sister? I know how close you were to your mother. I know how you’d sneak into your mother’s bed just to feel safe. Your mother was the only person you could speak to about anything, but on one night, your sister allegedly…

Christabel: Now, you’re thinking. I see where you’re going with this. My sister is the reason my mom’s dead. How about we kill her, so she won’t talk? When I think about it, she may not be guilty.

Officer Jade: If she’s not guilty of your mother’s death, we’ll be guilty…

Christabel: Not if we lie.

Officer Jade: I’m putting my career on the line…

Christabel: And I’m putting my sister on the line for us.

Officer Jade: That’s why I love you.

Christabel: Did you hear that?

Officer Jade: No.

Christabel: There’s a knock coming from the back door.

Officer Jade: Hide your sister. I’ll check it out.

Christabel: (Whispering) Stay here and stay quiet. They’ll leave.

Officer Jade: Who? They know the lights are on. I’m going to see who it is.

Christabel: (Whisper) My sister’s going in the closet then.