Last Call for the Wild Bunch

Last Call for the Wild Bunch

I haven’t been able to sleep since the pigeons got into the house.

It’s not like they keep me awake, just seems like their arrival coincided with my insomnia.

Now it’s me, Butch-Cassidy, the Sundance kid and The Wild Bunch.

Butch-Cassidy is home again. Steven left him here when he came for breakfast.

Take care of your dog. He needs you, not me.”

Butch-Cassidy is the only reason I leave the house. He needs food. He needs to walk. I don’t need food and I could probably lay in bed forever.

Maybe I need him more than he needs me.

The Wild Bunch showed up about a week later. They must have realized my love of Wild West outlaws and figured the dog and the fish needed a gang.

They’ve made a roost in my pantry and since I’ve stopped buying food, I cant bring myself to care. They live next to an old box of knock off cereal and a container full of sugar.

Steven told me to get rid of them, but I’ve gotten used to the cooing– that and for being such chunky, slow birds they are rather difficult to catch.

After a couple attempts I made peace with them being my new roommates.

There’s flapping here and there throughout the day as they explore the back porch, but I drew the line at them actually coming inside the kitchen.

I don’t want bird poop on my things.

They got in the day of Butch-Cassidy’s bi-annual bath. I left the back door open while I chased Butch-Cassidy around the yard trying to bathe him.

Took me three hours to get him fully clean. When I came inside exhausted and wet and covered in white fur. I heard movement and immediately called out for my mother.

She is the only one with keys. Well, Steven has keys. I’m alive because Steven has keys. But Steven works during the day. I didn’t expect him to be over.

There was no answer.

Butch-Cassidy ran past me into the house.

My guard dog.

“Get him, Butch!” I yelled. “I don’t know who you are, but Butch Cassidy has killed before, and he’ll kill again!”

No answer. But there was wild barking from the pantry and the sounds of the last remaining food items crashing to the floor.

When I got inside I found Butch barking like a maniac at my three intruders. Three chubby little pigeons huddled together on my top shelf rustling their feathers and looking around warily.

“Could’ve been worse, could’ve been rats that got in,” I told Steven.

“Pigeons are flying rats.”

“Aw, I think they’re cute.”

“You’re in denial.”

“No, that’s a river in Egypt.” I laughed at my own wittiness.

“That’s not how that joke works.” He groaned.

“I thought it was funny.”

“They’re gross.”

“I will not have you speaking ill of the wild bunch in their own home.”

“This is not their home. It’s yours.”

I asked him to help me get rid of them, but he told me that was my job, and then hung up on me. He was still angry with me. I had avoided him for months after I was released from the hospital. And now I was calling him about my pigeons like nothing ever happened.

Getting the birds out felt impossible. They seemed to have grown tired of the wild life and chosen my pantry to retire in.

“Last call you crazy bandits!” I’d taken to leaving a little bird bath kind of water dish for them at night before going to bed.

I’ve caught them splashing in the water and it’s unbelievably adorable.

The birds give me something to focus on. Just like the dog. Just like the fish. Lives that are entirely dependent on me. In their own weird way they give me a sense of purpose.

My God, what has become of me?

I leave the water dish and head to the living room and sit on the couch.

“Butch-Cassidy!” I yell. And immediately I hear the jingling of his collar and the pitter patter of his paws as he trots from my bedroom to the living room.

“Up-up, little man.” I pat the cushion next to me, waiting for him to jump up. He hops on easily and stomps around in circles, kneading the couch until he deems it comfy enough to lay–which he does with his head in my lap.

“Good boy.”

I looked around for the control when I heard knocking at my door. Butch-Cassidy leaped off the couch and ran barking to the door.

I stood up, groaning at being inconvenienced after plopping down in my comfy spot.

“Who is it? We don’t want it.” I yelled.

“Open up, Genesis. You’re being evicted.” Came the voice from the other side of the door.

I run to the door, undoing the chain and flinging it open.

“Walter Carmine, don’t you dare evict me!” I scream before throwing myself at him.

I hadn’t seen Walter in months. I understood why he didn’t see me. He  couldn’t face it. I forgave him for it. Also when one of your best friends is the owner of your apartment building and hasn’t demanded you to pay your rent, you look past the fact that he couldn’t face seeing you in the hospital or during that time when you wouldn’t leave your bed and your mother forced you to shower.

“I heard you’re housing vermin in my building and I can’t have that.” He was holding a metal cage in his hand.

“Who told you about the Wild Bunch?” I asked as he walked in.

“You would name them wouldn’t you?” He shook his head and walked towards the kitchen.

“What? I couldn’t just call them the pigeons. That’s so déclassé.”

“Your mother called me and told me to do my job as a landlord and get rid of them. I told her, her daughter needs to pay her rent first and she told me who wants to pay rent when your apartment is infested.” He stopped at the pantry door and smiled. “It’s not easy arguing with your mother.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Ok, I’m going in. Shut the door behind me. I’m not coming out till I have them.” He opened the door and closed it quickly behind him.

“Oh my God, Genesis, have you been feeding them?”

“I couldn’t let them starve!” I was happy he couldn’t see me turn red.

There was flapping and angry cooing as Walter worked on capturing the birds. I could hear him swearing at the birds and could only imagine the scene.

I heard the container of sugar hit the ground and Walter screaming profanities.

“Don’t hurt them!” I yelled.

“I’m about to kill them all and feed them to Butch-Cassidy in a minute if I can’t catch this last bird.”

There was more cursing and finally the slam of the metal.

“I got them!” I opened the door to find a very disheveled and triumphant Walter holding the Wild Bunch in the cage. “Grab your jacket. We’ll take them to the old apple orchard and release then far from here so they don’t get any ideas.”

If it was possible for pigeons to look pissed, these sure did. He set them on my kitchen table and pulled out a cigarette carton.

I shot him a disapproving look and he shrugged.

“I think I deserve this one.”

I looked into the cage of my former roommates. “I’m sorry guys Walter says you can’t stay here anymore. And if it’s between you and me getting evicted, I’m gonna have to go with you. But you’ll be happier in the orchard it’s nice there and you can steal school kids’ field trip sandwiches.”

They just cooed at me. Like a very cross pigeon version of “whatever.”

“Stop taking to the birds and let’s go.” Walter had a cigarette in his mouth and his car keys in hand.

“I’m coming.”

We pulled up to the orchard’s main entrance and parked.

“Ok Gen, I’ll wait for you here.” We both got out. Walter leaned against his truck finishing his cigarette. The orchard was not well lit. I could only see his outline and the glowing embers of the cigarette as I walked away.

I reached a picnic table and set the cage down. Three sets of beady eyes looked up at me.

“This is the end guys. It’s been swell.” I opened the cage. They didn’t move. “Um, get out guys.”

More staring and feather rustling. I sighed and shook the cage. There was angry cooing and the birds fought against each other to get out.

I could hear Walter snickering in the background. I looked over and he was throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.

The birds were free and I could use my pantry again. Eventually. When I cleaned it and bought food.

I picked up the cage and and walked back to the truck.

“Good job, Gen. Please never keep a family of wild birds in that  apartment again.”

I hugged him.

“Thanks Walter.”

“You’re welcome kid.”

We got into the truck and drove back to my place in silence.

“Do you want to come in and watch a movie?” I asked when he parked.

“It’s late.”

“I don’t sleep and I could use the company.”

He turned off the car and opened the door.

“You’ll stay?” I asked, climbing out of the passenger side.

“One movie and I get to choose.” I groaned and smiled.

“Sure, you did just take care of my pigeon situation.”

We headed upstairs to a pigeon free apartment.

70. orchard, denial, ember, last call, insomnia, pigeons.

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Venus

Venus

Venus is the planet of love.

I read once that the heat on Venus creates a pressure so intense that standing on Venus would feel like the pressure felt 900 meters deep in Earth’s oceans.

Crazy right?

Sounds just like love.

My mother brought me a small potted cactus the other day. “Mira Geni, it looks like a little star.” I placed it on the windowsill of my kitchen, right above the sink.

It’s the only bit of green in my sunny yellow kitchen.

I like to stare at it whenever I do the dishes.

Which is twice a day to wash Butch-Cassidy’s bowl and to clean out the little container of food my mom drops off on Sundays.

She trusts me now to eat the food she brings me without her watchful eyes.

Before she would sit across from me at my bubblegum pink table and watch me as I forced myself to eat.

The color of the table seemed to bother her every time. She’d look down at it like it offended her by being so pink.

Ay mi’ja.” She’d sigh and then order me to eat.

Love.

I miss the company.

There are bread crumbs on the counter from the peanut butter and honey sandwich I nibbled on earlier. I take the crusts and leave them in the bowl for the Wild Bunch, the family of pigeons that took up residence in my pantry. They won’t leave, and I haven’t kicked them out, so I just feed the bread and give them water and it seems like it’s working out okay.

Today I have a full sink, because for some reason I told Steven I would cook for him.

I was sitting on my couch watching a sappy movie and trying not to cry as the main characters finally have their first kiss when Steven called me.

“Are you crying?” He asked.

“No.” I sniffed.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok? Should I come over?” I could hear the panic in his voice.

Panic which is not unfounded given that he was the person who found me in a pool of my own vomit on my kitchen floor. In my sunny kitchen with my lemon yellow walls and my bubblegum pink table and mismatched chairs. My happy little room the scene of my attempted suicide.

Hearing your best friend crying by herself with only the menagerie of animals she keeps to protect her would be unsettling at the least.

“No, I’m fine. I’m sorry. I’m watching a made for TV movie and they’ve finally found love.” I assure him.

“Can I come over to be sure?” No one really trusts me.

I don’t blame them.

“Come over.”

He came over and sat on my couch with me. We watched the end of the movie in silence. I watched. He watched me out of the corner of his eye. I did not look good.

I’d pulled my hair up in two messy buns, rinsed my face and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. But the water couldn’t rinse away the dark circles and hollows under my eyes from lack of sleep and from eating the bare minimum to survive.

“This movie is terrible.” He said. He reached down to rub Butch-Cassidy’s belly. Butch laid next to him after jumping all over him when he arrived.

After me, Steven is Butch’s favorite person in the world. He only likes my mom because she occasionally feeds him scraps.

“I know.” The movie ends and we sit there in silence.

“You know what I miss?” He asked me.

“What’s that?” I turned the TV off and shifted to face him.

“When you would get all ethnic and make the sweet mole with rice and homemade tortillas.”

I rolled my eyes. “‘Ethnic.'” He laughed.

“You know what I mean. You get all, ‘my mother taught me and her mother taught her and her mother taught her and the great eagle taught them all’ when you make it. I miss it.”

“‘Great eagle,’ mas pendejo,” I mutter and smile in spite of myself.

“Great eagle or whatever your people believed in.”

“Oh my gosh Steven I’m about to sick Butch-Cassidy on you if you don’t stop.” We laugh as we look at Butch-Cassidy, belly up on the floor at Steven’s feet, snoring.

“Your ancestors demand the sweet brown mole… and handmade tortillas…” He trailed off.

Cooking requires effort.

Cooking requires care and a love for the food and for the ones who will consume it.

Cooking requires a desire to give some kind of shit.

Love means giving some kind of shit.

I exhale slowly. And watch him. He looks nervous. Like he pushed too far. Like the suggestion of me doing anything that required effort may have already mentally exhausted me.

“Well, I am a really good cook,” I whisper.

He chuckled. “I guess.”

“We’ll see if I feel like it and maybe I’ll invite you over.” I smile at him and we sit quietly until he says it’s late and heads home.

Because Venus reflects so much sunlight, it is usually the brightest planet in the night sky.

I wonder if it’s because of this brightness that they decided this planet would best represent love in the night skies. Love makes you glow.

I stir the pot of mole and turn the heat low as I start on the dishes.

13. first kiss, a planet, a type of plant, bread crumbs

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Love Letter (Scavenger Hunt #6)

Love Letter (Scavenger Hunt #6)

I met you on the corner of Madison and State.

Zero, Zero. The center of the grid.

You probably don’t know that.

You don’t look like you’re from around these parts, and honestly most people who grew up here don’t know that.

Chicago is a grid city. Going North, South, East or West from Madison and State Street the numbers get bigger the farther you go.

Cool right?

You probably wouldn’t think so, so I didn’t tell you.

Your hand was out and I was the first taxi that pulled up. You were carrying bags from some store on Michigan Avenue they probably have where you’re from.

Tourist.

You tell me you need to get to Water Tower Place. You asked if I knew where that was.

Of course I know.

You climbed in and shook the snow out of your hair.

Lovely.

All over my seats.

Thank you.

You ask me my name, I reply. The company I work for tells me I should be nicer to the customers.

Why? I ask myself.

It’s a taxi service. I take you safely from point A to point B, does it matter if I tell you what my favorite color is or if I tell you about my love of fish sticks?

I listen to you tell me about your trip so far.

Your husband took your kids to the mall so you could shop. Isn’t that sweet? I nod my head.

Your younger son is into some book series about werewolves. Kids today, right? I shrug.

You were about to go back to the hotel for some “me time” but you lost your key. I make a consoling noise as I dodge a cyclist.

Turn right on Washington. Left on Michigan. Right on Pearson.

Here we are.

You pay your fare and tip me $5. You smile and wish me a good night.

Enjoy the city, I reply.

You close your door and I turn on my light. Ready for the next bout of human interaction.

6. love letter, werewolves, taxi service, lost key, fish sticks.

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Acceptable Conversation Topics

Acceptable Conversation Topics

Don’t talk about serial killers.

That would be weird.

But she’s weird, so maybe she’d be cool with serial killers.

As long as I don’t come off as a serial killer myself.

Shit. I’m already being weird and I’m not even talking to her yet.

Well at least I think she’s a little weird. She walked into the shop about 10 minutes after I did, looked at me, looked away and kept walking to another table.

At first I wasn’t sure if it was her, I’d seen a couple of pics on her profile, but she was making faces in each of them. I think that’s why I liked her. I thought, “this girl is hilarious” and she looked like she had nice tits.

And then she sent me a dirty pic,  and I actually got to see her tits and that kind of clinched it.

I pulled up her pic on my phone. Damn. Seriously, this girl has some gorgeous boobs. I looked at the picture and glanced quickly at her. The hair was the same– same color, same length and same style. Face looked the same but I wasn’t sure if I should look at her again. She didn’t want me to realize she was there so I ignored her.

I could feel her watching me. I pulled out the comics I picked up at Dark Tower earlier in the day. Phil was there looking for something for his girl friend.

“I dunno what to get her, she’s into some girly manga shit.” He said. “But she’s like, ‘Phil, come on, I wanna read what you read.’ And then I give her something and she hates it.”

“Tough break man. Just get her some Wonder Woman comics. Everyone likes Wonder Woman.” I told him.

He shrugged and picked up a different comic. “Hey wanna come over later? I’m having a barbecue. Gina bought some rotisserie chickens, but I’m gonna throw some steaks on the grill and I bought a case of beer. Tommy, Steve, Sarah and that girl Sarah’s been dating will be there.”

“I can’t. I’ve got a date.”

“Oh shit, is it the girl with the boobs?”

“Fuck, Phil. Why do I tell you anything? Yes, the girl with the boobs.”

He smacked me on the back. “Hell yeah, man! Good luck. Let me know how that goes.”

“Yeah, sure.”

And now here I am pretending to not notice her. I can sort of see her out of the corner of my eye, but I can’t make out what she’s doing. Oh God. She’s standing up. Okay, eat the biscotti. Don’t look up. Be cool.

She stood in front of my table. “Hi.” She said.

Okay, be cool. Be nonchalant or whatever. “I was wondering when you were going to come over. You’ve been staring at me for 20 minutes I was about to get up and leave.” I finally look up and smile at her. She was cuter in person than in her pictures. Probably because her mouth wasn’t open. Fuck, don’t look at her tits.

Nope. Couldn’t be helped. Hope she didn’t notice.

“It was only 15.” She whines as she sits down and reaches for one of my comics. “You brought reading material? Were you expecting me to be boring?”

“No, I stopped at the shop before coming here. And it’s a good thing I did. You stared at me like a creep for half an hour.”

“I did not! I’m not a creep either.” She looks like she wants to laugh, but she’s trying to look angry.

I shrug. “You’re right. Girls can’t be creeps.”

“Well… I don’t think that’s true.”

“No.” I pause. “Because boobs. Want a coffee?” I gesture towards the counter and stand up.

“Yes, a latte would be great.”

I smile at the girl at the counter and order our coffees. She’s cute too. If this girl doesn’t work out I can come back and ask her out instead. She hands me our drinks and I drop a tip in the jar.

“It’s nice right?” I ask.

“What?” She reaches for her coffee.

“My ass. You totally checked me out.”

“I did. It’s okay.”

This girl is a winner. “You’re a liar.”

She laughed. “Okay, I think I like you.”

I try not to look surprised. “Really? That quick? Damn, I’m good.”

“You’re not bad. But here’s the thing, I can’t promise I’ll sleep with you yet. I know I showed you my tits, but that’s mostly because I’m vain and wanted you to like me.”

Damn. She’s straight to the point. “Um. Okay.”

“But, I can promise that there will be kissing.”

“Kissing? Kissing is nice.”

“With tongues.”

I laugh and she takes a sip of her latte and makes a face.

“Not good?”

“Not sweet.” she says.

“Oh. Just dip your finger in it.”

I wait for her to laugh or groan, most likely groan as that’s my worst line ever. She just stares at me. Shit she doesn’t get it. I keep waiting and she finally laughs.

“Delayed reaction?”

“Maybe.” she looks around the table.

I point towards the counter where the sugar is. “So I can look forward to kissing with tongues, eh?”

“Yes. Lots.”

“I can deal with that.” I smile.

“Good.” She says as she gets up.

I watch her pour 20 packets of sugar into her drink, taste it and then add a couple more.

She walks back to the table.

“Are you sure that’s enough sugar? ”

“Don’t make fun.”

“Seriously, I’ve never seen anyone add that much sugar to their coffee.”

She looked down at her cup, “I don’t really like the taste.”

I laughed. “So why did you get one?”

“Because we’re at a coffee shop. And you were getting one so I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“I’ll get you something else. What would you like? ”

“Oh my gosh you don’t have to.”

“Just tell me.”

“I dunno.”

“Come on.”

“Uh…a smoothie.”

“A smoothie?”

“Yes.”

“Ok.”

“What kind?”

“Strawberry.”

“Ok.” Who agrees to coffee when they hate it? I go up to the cute girl at the counter. “Do you have smoothies?”

“Uh, I have like iced drinks.”

“Without coffee?”

She thinks about it. “I could make the vanilla chill without coffee.”

I turn around, “do you like vanilla?” I yell across the shop.

“I could make it work!” She yells back.

“Ok, we’ll do the coffee-less vanilla chill.”

“Ok, just a sec.” She smiles and I wink at her. Two minutes later I have a medium vanilla chill and I walk back to the table.

“Try this and tell me what you think. If it’s not delicious I’ll make sure the girl at the counter is fired.” I hand her the drink.

She opens her straw and places it into the drink slowly. “I’m nervous now.”

I laugh. “Why?”

“Because. Someone’s job depends on this drink!” She sticks her tongue out at me and then takes a sip.

“Well?”

“Shut this place down.”

“It’s not bad is it?”

She hands me the cup. “Try it.”

I smirk and try it. It tastes like frozen milk.

“Okay fine. But their coffee is good.”

There’s an awkward silence.

“So what do you do for a living?” She asks me.

“I play the ukulele on the side of the interstate for money.” I say without skipping a beat.

She starts laughing like a lunatic. It’s cute even if it’s a little crazy and loud. It’s hard not to laugh with her, but I’m trying to keep a straight face.

“Shut up. You’re stupid.”

I can’t hold back my laughter anymore. “Did you just call me stupid and tell me to shut up?  Damn this date is going downhill fast. I thought we were going to French soon.”

“Who said we weren’t?” She reaches over and hits my shoulder.

“Are you beating me now?”

“No!”

“You’re yelling at me now!”

I can feel people starting to stare at us.

“You’re the one yelling at me!”

“No I’m not!”

“Oh my gosh!”

We both start laughing. She goes to take another sip. “Oh fuck. That’s gross.”

I grab the cup from her.

“I work in IT.”

“What?”

“You asked me what I do. I work in IT. You?”

“Oh. That’s cool. Like computer stuff?”

“Something like that. What do you do?”

She fiddled with both of her disappointment drinks.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Why would I laugh? Are you a stripper? Because that would be amazing.”

“Oh my gosh, you are stupid.”

“is that going to be your pet name for me?”

“Yes.”

I laugh. “Tell me.”

She takes a deep breath. “OK. I work in events.”

“What kind of events?”

“Kids parties…”

“What do you do for them?”

She takes a swig of the flavor less vanilla chill. “I am the entertainment.”

“You strip for kids?”

“Stupid.”

“You’re going to make me blush.”

“I uh do magic tricks, or dress as a clown, or wear the full character costumes.”

This poor girl.

“You can laugh. Everyone does.”

“I’m not going to laugh.”

“No?”

“No.” I smile. “How long have you been doing that?”

“Um about two years now.”

“Two years of kids parties?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. It sorta pays the bills. I also nanny during the week.”

“What do you really want to do?”

“How do you know this isn’t my childhood dream?” She reaches for her coffee.

“You can’t drink that. You’ll get the diabetes.”

She laughs. “Damn, I don’t want that. Give me a piece of the biscotti then.”

“But I bit it.”

“I don’t care. Gimme.”

I place the piece into her palm. “So what’s the real goal?”

She takes a bite of the biscotti and then dips it into my coffee. “I’m a writer.”

“Are you going to write about me?” She laughs. “Why is that funny?”

“Why does everyone assume they’re interesting enough to write about?” She winks at me. “Are you almost done with your coffee?”

“Hey I’m interesting!”

“Focus. Are you done? ”

“Well you dipped your germy biscotti in it. So I’m done now.”

“Then let’s go. I’m thirsty and hungry.” She grabs her purse. And I just sit there staring at her. “Come on.” She stomped her foot.  “I know a place.”

“Okay okay. So pushy. Why didn’t you suggest that in the first place?”

“Because I’m stupid. Let’s go.”

She grabbed me by the arm and dragged me out of the cafe.

“You’re pretty strong, you know.” I said.

She just gave me a look and stepped off the curb and put her arm out.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“An interpretive dance.” She replied as a taxi pulled up. “Get in pumpkin.” She opened the door and slid into the back seat. “Don’t just stand there!”

I ran to the cab and got in.

“Lincoln and Berwyn please.” She told the driver.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m kidnapping you.”

“I could think of worse kidnappers.” I smiled at her. And she leaned her head on me.

“I’m so hungry. I’m… dying.”

“Don’t die, we still have to make out.”

“Hmm you’re right.” She lifted her head slightly.  “Driver, step on it.” She laughed softly.

“So where are you taking me?” I ask again.

“It’s a colombian cafe with really good food. It’s snacks and baked goods mostly. But super delicious. Their coffee is good too, supposedly.”

“Supposedly.”

“I’ve never had it, but my friends seem to like it.”

“What do you get?”

“Any of the juices. Depends on my mood.”

“What’s your mood saying today?”

“My mood is in an inappropriate place, I really can’t say right now.”

I laughed.

“Don’t laugh,” She said. “I don’t necessarily mean like sexy time inappropriate. What if I meant like murderous inappropriate? What if I thirsted for the blood of 20 virgins?” She looked up at me. “Would you get out of the cab?”

This girl has a strange sense of humor. I can deal with that. “What if I told you I too ‘thirsted for the blood of 20 virgins?'”

She smiled. “You’re crazy.” She looked out the window. “Oh you can pull over here.”

The driver pulls up to a tiny colombian cafe. “$7.59 please.” He says.

She grabs her purse and reaches for the door. “Hope you have cash.”

“Why?”

“So you can pay the man.” She laughs.

Is she serious.

“I’m joking.” She pulls a bill from her wallet. “Here you go. Keep the change.”

We exit the cab and she opens the door for me.

“So what are we having?” I ask.

“Everything.”

29. Incorporates: chickens, interstate, a ukulele, serial killers, drought.

Sexual Cannibalism

Sexual Cannibalism

“Females of cannibalistic species are generally hostile and unwilling to mate; thus many males of these species have developed adaptive behaviors to counteract female aggression.”- Good ole Wikipedia

I can never remember if it’s during or after sex that a praying mantis eats her mate.

And I can never remember if it was before or after Brian, my last man friend,  that I wish I could’ve bitten the heads off of every stupid man I’d ever slept with and be done with them

Mel sat on the couch and started peeling tangerines as we watched TV. “Here eat this one, I’ve already peeled it for you.” She flings it at me and I catch it before it lands on the floor.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I know how lazy you are about your fruit.” She moves the peels to the table and pops a slice in her mouth. “Isn’t it funny,” she says while chewing, “how every time we try to watch the Lord of the Rings marathon we always catch it at the end of The Two Towers?”

“I don’t care, it’s the best part anyway, the first half is really boring.” I pull out my phone and start looking through my messages.

“You’re not selling these movies to me. I don’t even want to watch them, but you keep forcing me because you love them so much.”

I open my most recent message from a boy named Al I’d met on an online dating site. “I do. I love them all, I guess I’ve just seen them too many times.” I bite into my tangerine.

“That’s weird dude.” She says.

“What’s weird?” I look up at her staring at me. On the screen Gandalf the White is riding into battle on Shadowfax, the king of horses. “It’s Shadowfax!” I point at the screen.

“It’s not an apple, you’re supposed to peel the slices apart.”

“Stop being a fruit nazi, you’re missing the most epic horse.”

“Wrong, Silver is the most epic horse.”

“Mel, Silver is not a horse king.”

“Kiki, you don’t know that. He could be like some sort of horse chief. He does belong to The Lone Ranger.”

I shake my head and bite into the tangerine again. “Look, that guy Al texted me again.” I showed her my phone.

“Well I would hope so. Didn’t you send him a boob pic?” She pulls up the satellite menu on the TV and starts scrolling through the channels.

“Aw don’t change it. The battle is the best part. And yes I sent him a boob pic, but you don’t have to mention it.”

“You’re making me watch the end of a movie I haven’t even watched the beginning of.”

“Oh you know what the first half is about.”

“How would I know that?”

“From the books.”

“I never read them.”

“Who’s never read the books?” I yell.

“Don’t yell at me! I can’t be the only person who’s never read the books. And why can’t I bring up your boob pic? You showed it to me and asked me if your boobs looked nice. They did. You have pretty nipples.”

“Aw, you think so?”

“Dude, of course.”

I look at the screen. Aragorn is slashing at orcs left and right. “I dunno, it’s just embarrassing to be one of those people that sends titty pics to guys.” I spit a couple of seeds into my hand and toss them on the peels.

“Well you keep doing it, so clearly it’s not embarrassing enough to make you stop.”

I sigh. “Whatever. So Al asked me if I wanted to go to coffee with him. What do you think? Should I meet him in person?”

“Is he nice?’

“He seems nice.”

“Is he cute?”

I shrug. “He’s not bad.”

She chews on another slice. “Hmmm… he’s not the dude that drives that hideous, white Saturn right?”

“No. That was Bert.”

“Does he drive?”

“I don’t think so. He lives in one of those yuppie neighborhoods where people don’t have cars.”

“Wicker Park?”

“No.”

“Bucktown?”

“No.”

“Lincoln Park?”

“No.”

“Downtown?”

“Stop guessing.”

“Roscoe Village.”

“Oh damn, I think that’s it.” I look at his text. “‘Mmm, sexy pic. What do you say we finally meet up? How about saturday? I know a good place for coffee.‘”

“Ooh he said you were sexy.”

I laugh and throw my phone next to me. “Well damn, if he didn’t think I was sexy with my boobs out I would’ve cried.”

She laughs and turns off the TV. “No more dead creepy things.”

“Orcs. The creepy things are called orcs. And fine we don’t have to watch. I’m going to bring you the books so you can read them first and then we can try the movies again. Besides it seems to go against the natural order of things to start at the end of the second movie in a trilogy without having at least read the books for some sort of reference.”

“God you’re such a nerd.”

“Shut up.”

I met Al, at a coffee shop on Lincoln Avenue at 11:00 am. He was sitting by himself at a table near the window, reading comics and eating a biscotti. I watched him for 15 minutes before walking over to his table.

“Hi.” I said.

“I was wondering when you were going to come over. You’ve been staring at me for 20 minutes I was about to get up and leave.” He looked up and smiled. I saw his eyes wander down to my chest briefly before looking at me in the eyes again.

“It was only 15.” I sit down and pick up one of his comics. “You brought reading material? Were you expecting me to be boring?”

“No, I stopped at the shop before coming here. And it’s a good thing I did. You stared at me like a creep for half an hour.” He stacked the comics together and threw them in his bag.

“I did not! I’m not a creep either.”

“You’re right. Girls can’t be creeps.”

“Well… I don’t think that’s true.”

“No. Because boobs. Want a coffee?” He gets up and heads to the counter.

“Yes, a latte would be great.”

I watch him while he makes our coffee order. He’s got a pretty nice ass. The girl behind the counter hands him our drinks and  he comes back with a smug look on his face.

“It’s nice right?” He asks.

“What?”

“My ass. You totally checked me out.”

“I did. It’s okay.”

“You’re a liar.”

I laughed. “Okay, I think I like you.”

He chuckles. “Really? That quick? Damn, I’m good.”

“You’re not bad. But here’s the thing, I can’t promise I’ll sleep with you yet. I know I showed you my tits, but that’s mostly because I’m vain and wanted you to like me.”

“Um. Okay.”

“But, I can promise that there will be kissing.”

“Kissing? Kissing is nice.”

“With tongues.”

He laughs. I take a sip of my latte. It’s unsweetened and I make a face.

“Not good?” He asks.

“Not sweet.” I say.

“Oh. Just dip your finger in it.”

I look at him for a moment before I groan and roll my eyes.

“Delayed reaction?” He asks.

“Maybe.” I look around for sugar.

“So I can look forward to kissing with tongues, eh?”

“Yes. Lots.”

“I can deal with that.”

“Good.” I say as I get up to find some sugar.

30. Incorporates: praying mantis, nectarines, Saturn, natural order, tongues, towers. *note, I wrote this, the whole time picturing a tangerine in my head and not a nectarine, which is not peeled and has no slices. So I didn’t actually incorporate nectarine.