I was walking slowly.
Dan was tugging on my arm, “hurry up you cunt.”
I walked slower.
Dan pulled harder,”Move it, you’re going to make me miss her.”
We had previously been in the line for the drive-thru, but Dan had spotted a “hot bitch” inside the McDonalds.
He let go of my arm, ripping open the door, it made a loud whack! He almost fell over himself, stumbling around like one of those hippos in the ballerina outfits, he managed to dance himself straight. No one even glanced at the spectacle. Fast food staff are used to the antics of drunk ass-holes, it’s just another Saturday night.
I’m still embarrassed though, or maybe it’s just my way of trying to disguise the self-loathing for letting myself hang out with him in the hopes of getting a raise. I used to read obscure poetry, drink espresso with a shot of vodka in it, smoke cigarettes while writing about the people who passed by me…I obviously suffer from a bi-polar caricaturization of stereotyping. I’m my own joke at my own expense. A flash of my cubicle and desk hits my mind, I sigh noisily, loud, atonal,like a porn actor ejaculating for the ten thousandth time. No one even glances at me. I’m not drunk, but I guess they know I’m just another ass-hole.
He’s busy ordering., asks me if I want anything.
“A sense of self-worth.”
I drag my feet to an open table, I sit down.
Dan brings over two trays, I count three big macs, three large fries, and three large cokes. He tears in to them, gobbling down chunks, his hands not sure what to pick up, they spasm almost uncontrollably, twitching, pinching, picking, fries shoot across the table, pieces of hamburger randomly find their way in to his mouth, down his shirt, over his shoulders. A piece hits a blonde girl on the cheek.
“Ugh”, she utters while looking justifiably disgusted.
Dan turns around, grinning, remnants of his feast clinging to his teeth, cheeks and nostrils. He waves at her then faces me again.
‘Dude, see that? She totally wants me.”
I have nothing with which to respond.
He lifts the lid off one of the cokes, and in one motion, downs the whole thing. He then actually piles up everything on to one of the trays.
I look at him, “what are you doing?”
‘Tidying up? What? Do I look like a pig?”
To be honest I was expecting him to just bury his face in the mass of left overs and trash.
“Dan, what about the two extra cokes, they’re still full?”
“Oh, no, I don’t want them, I just wanted the extra burgers and fries, the meals are just cheaper.”
“Ah you know it’s the drink part that’s the cheap part right?”
‘Don’t be a fucking idiot.”
He stands, picking up the tray, and walks to the bin. There is a pickle stuck to his back, two fries are peeking out from his collar.
It’s a Friday night. I’m at a night club. I’m actually in the parking lot of a night club.
Drunk girls and lazers dance passed me. This guy leans in really close, he gurgles and mumbles his secrets to me. I’m mildly irritated. I pat him on the shoulder and he smiles.
On the main stage a musician fumbles between unintentional spoken word and karaoke, back tracked by music which lost its charm fifteen years ago. Listening to him rehash his hits is the equivalent of an out-of-shape drunk man breathing heavily on me, grunting adolescent dirty talk in between a bouquet of cheap cigarettes, cheap beer and cheap burgers, all the while trying to fuck me in the most uncoordinated sloppy manner, usually reserved for mentally challenged slugs.
It’s almost 12 am.
I make my way inside.
“You think too much.”
“What does that mean?”
“You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“You feel too much.”
“What do you mean?”
“You see? This is exactly the problem.”
“You’re too intense.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You see? You can’t let anything go.”
“You’re too buoyant.”
“You see? Nothing matters to you.”
“You’re too deep.”
“What makes you think that?”
“You see? Question, questions, questions and more questions.”
“You’re too carefree.”
“You see? Nothing bothers you.”
My foot was heavy, the car was moving.
I can’t believe she fucking said that to me. Who says that kind of shit to someone after two years of dating?
I was driving like an asshole. I geared it up, the car went faster.
Twenty four months with someone, and she drops that on me.
I stuck in the clutch, went up another gear, I became the reason accidents happen.
Seven hundred and thirty days in a relationship, learning about who they are, growing together, learning about yourself. Birthdays, holidays, joys, dreams…
I was now doing double the speed limit.
…hopes, tragedies, heartache.
A dog stepped out in front of me.
I swerved, missed it, did not roll my car, I stopped the car, caught my breath, opened my door and checked on the dog, who then promptly jumped in my car.
Fuck it, I nearly killed her, the least I can do is offer her a lift.
I turned the keys, checked my mirrors, and started driving, slower.
I turned in to my road.
It was pretty quiet, I could only see my one neighbor standing on the pavement, pouring something on his grass.
Must be weed killer or something.
Then I saw him throw a match at it.
Wait…what the fuck?
I slammed on the breaks, my poor passenger was staring at me wide eyed.
“Dude what the fuck are you doing?”
“Oh hey, I’m cutting my grass, it was getting a bit long.”
“Cutting it? You’re mowing the grass with fire? Fire? Are you fucking retarded?”
“Nah, just lazy.”
“Dude, you better put it out or I’m calling the fucking cops.”
He shrugged, “do it, it will have finished by the time they get here.”
“I hope you set yourself on fire.”
I got the car moving again, and turned in to my drive way, where I was met by a shady looking BMW with tinted windows.
Oh great, now I’m going to get robbed, raped, murdered and raped again.
I flashed my lights, and screamed out the window, “Get the fuck out of my God damn drive way you dumb son of a bitch!”
The car rocked a bit, one of the back doors opened partially.
Here it comes, the gunshot, to my face.
A guy, who must have been in his mid-twenties, stumbled out, with his pants around his ankles, apologizing, waving his hand, he looked around while trying to cover up his penis, a female arm out stretched from the door handed him a pair of keys. Then the dog jumped out of the passenger window.
The guy tried to get in to the front door, but with no luck, the dog was faster, she grabbed him by his pants, he started screaming, the woman in the car lent outwards, she had no top on, she grabbed the guy and pulled him in, the dog kept his pants.
She ran off, up the road, proudly carrying her trophy.
The guy must not have lost his keys in the fray, crawled through to the front, he started the car and drove up the pavement and away, avoiding all eye contact with me.
I sighed, opened my gate, drove in, turned off the ignition.
How the fuck could she have said it, so calmly, so matter-of-fact?
Last night I dreamed that I was in a world where everyone had there hands over their eyes, all the time.
Everyone was blind, but we some how managed to navigate around, no one had ever thought to take their hands off their eyes.
I was with a group of friends, I had never seen their faces, we were drinking cocktails at the beach, I kissed a girl, then we went shopping for sunglasses.