July 21, 2008

Street signs

Another spontaneous story. Here goes :)

Dwight and I had and have been best buddies for the past three years. When we started college together, we chose each other as roommates. We got along, we didn't do stupid things and we always corrected each other's mistakes. We both were so alike in every way, people didn't understand that we were from different families, let alone different countries of heritage. He was Belgian-French, my background traced to Hungarian-Czech. The way we dressed, what programs we would watch on television, what to eat, was all alike in very similar ways. The only thing that we disagreed over was our taste in women. He preferred the seductive, mysterious mistress, whereas I wanted that long term, committed relationship. Long nights would be spent before he would re-appear with a new black haired woman with silly looking bangs and dark ruby red lipstick, and the next day, he would be with another new one.

He never complained that I was still with Denise. I never complained he went through women faster than cartons of milk. It worked out that way between us. Until the day Denise left me for another man. It left me absolutely devastated beyond anything and Dwight did his best to comfort me. Once, he even brought over another dark haired woman, who I had promptly turned down because for one thing, her ears were gauged. I never understood that. The necessity to make your ear lobes large enough to stick a carrot through.

I tried all my stomping grounds, The Graduate, Harmon's Pub, The Cave, Rawlie's, Kidd's, none of them were any good. They were usually populated by underage drinkers sneaking a few in, stupid looking frat guys with their even stupider looking sorority girlfriends. Every so often, there would be a really cute girl, but then she'd throw up and I'd walk away. I tried the cafes as well, but that did little. Everyone was nose deep in whatever texts they had lugged along with them by pack mule. The park was terrible, I had a can thrust into my face every time asking for spare change. I hated giving Alms.

Mason st. & Dentworth st.

It happened that day. It was inevitable. She was riding a bicycle and I knew, she would hit that pothole. You couldn't miss it, even if you tried. So I yelled to warn her, but the front wheel caught, and she flipped over the handlebars and landed on her back. I ran over to help.

"Are you all right?
"No. That fucking hurt.
"I'm really sorry that happened. I tried to warn you.
"Its all right, there's no way you could have prevented anyways.
"Do you need some ice or anything? I live just a block down.

She stared down at her ankle. It was swelling to the size of a navel orange.


Getting her up was no problem, getting her off that leg was no problem. Getting her and her bicycle to my apartment was. I trust, it must have been an awkward sight to behold. About half a block down, it dawned on me to have her sit on the bicycle as I guided it along the sidewalk to my place. I took her in, put the bicycle in the hall and turned back into the scout, bandaged her leg and elevated it.

"You took a really nasty spill back there you know.
"Yeah, I know it.
"Is there anything I can do to help you?
"Well, there is one thing, but I dont think you can.
"Try me then.
"Heh. OK. Kill my boyfriend.

I was momentarily taken aback by the crudeness of the command. I only returned her a blank stare and gave her a look that kinda passed the message "really? You want me to do that?"

"I'm dead serious.
"You are?
"Look, that motherfucker, jerkwad of a boyfriend banged my best friend, took her to Mexico, abandoned her there, came back, punched my father and ran over my cat.
"That's alot to swallow. Look we just met. I cant take out a contract like this.
"Look, i'm sorry. This... its been a really hard time ok? I mean, I dont know what to do. My life is going down the hole and I really cant just...

She broke into tears. The bag of ice slid off her leg and crashed to the floor with a brattle. She didn't seem like the kind of girl to get involved with at the moment. After that 'fiasco' I dropped her off at the University Health Center, and put her out of mind.

Harmon St. & Boles Ave.

I do my shopping at a little grocery store on Boles Ave. It's run by the guy who the street is named after. Mr. Frederick John Boles. He apparently is one of the cornerstones of my university's city. And I suppose, a few years ago, the city council with nothing better to do, and with a burning pocket of money, renamed the street from Hassock to Boles. Whatever or whoever was Hassock, I may never know. But it was at the little grocery store that I met the next girl.

She had a cart full of groceries, like most pretty girls, she was wearing a sorority sweatshirt with the letters, Alpha Nu. I figured since she was in sweat pants, it would say the same thing on her ass as well. As she passed by, I took a quick glance to confirm my hypothesis. It did. Except it said PINK on her ass. I snickered at the thought of anything written on anyone's asses. Especially the Dean's.

What happened next, I will never know. As soon as I snickered, she appeared in front of me, hands on hips with an angry look in her eyes.

"What's funny?
"Nothing is not funny. What were you looking at?
"Your ass.

A Slap to the face set me right.

"Serves you right pervert!
"No. It made me think of other asses.

Another slap.

"Look, let me rephrase that. I saw your ass and thought of Dean Hustlinger's Ass.

Another glancing blow to my face.

"No, I was thinking about words on his ass

I think that slap was a little softer than the previous one.

"Ok look. Looook. I was thinking about how it looks funny to have letters on the seat of your pants, then I thought of letters on the seat of Dean Hustlinger's pants and tried to imagine what it would say.
"Well, I would imagine DEAN

I was taken aback by this much more humane response. I tried to give a little chuckle, but failed even at that.

"You know, I'm really sorry about the way I behaved earlier. Forgive me?

She stuck out her hand. Was I supposed to kiss it or shake it? I kinda held it for a second and let go of it. That seemed the right thing to do.

"What's your name? You're kinda cute you know that?
"Well, I dont give my name and number out willy nilly. I'm not that kinda guy.
"Well, i'm that kinda girl what wants it.
"I'm not convinced after all those slaps earlier.
"You want me to slap you again? I'll do it. I'm so into that kinky shit.

I only stared blankly at her then turned away leaving her to her shopping.

Huron St. & Atlas St.

My last class of the day is just off a building hidden on the block of Huron and Atlas. Inside Chesapeake Hall, I sit and listen to my economics lecture, slide off to sleep then wake up in a Farsi lecture. Three hours after my lecture ended. I really ought to figure out what lectures are in between Econ and Farsi. I've picked up on some new vocabulary dealing with acreages, land grants and dry weights.

But one econ class was different. I usually sat in the back row, but today, it was populated by all the hipsters who sat asleep already behind their large plastic sunglasses. Very clever douche bags. So I had to find a seat up front and lo and behold, I had to sit next to the one kid in class who cannot, for the life of her, stop asking the professor in depth questions (the kind of question reserved for discussion). As soon as I sat down and put my head behind the binder, she raised her hand. Her loud nasal voice was earshattering. It was like listening to a Tom Carvel ice cream ad played at high speed.

"Professor! Why would we need to measure ekonomical resource strata in modern situations as opposed to a few years back when they can reflect more on the trend?

I wanted to duct tape her mouth shut.

"Professor! The national trend rests at 4.3% But we as Americans, we live above that trend and at least try to double it. Why as a collective group do we even bother?

Now I wanted to punch her. I shut my eyes harder and put my pencil's erasers into my ears. The questions seemed to be less and less relevant as the hour chugged along.

"Professor! Professor! Lets say for example, if you buy stocks of hello kitty and my friend buys stocks in Badtz-Maru, What would be the direct resultant of Hello Kitty to that?

Oh my god. I wanted to kill her now. Only this stupid looking asian girl ever bring up shitty toy references. I grinned as the professor shrugged off the question and resumed lecturing.

"You're a jackass you know. You dont know shit!

came a whisper.

"Yea? You're a loud mouth who cant keep her mouth shut.

At this point, the professor threw the chalk duster at her. I smiled in accomplishment as I stared back into the white stripe looking at me.

"I'll get my boyfriend to kick your ass!
"In what? DDR?
"Oooh you get it now!

She stood and started hitting me with her handbag. A hello kitty mirror fell out along with some other girly things. The head GSI obviously annoyed by the new disturbance threw her out. As he did, the entire auditorium burst into applause.

Mason st. & Delaware ave.

Home. I live on 2282 Mason street in a little two bedroom apartment with Dwight. The past few days have been hectic and I had been just coming home, sleeping, then leaving. The apartment was dark when I entered. I was fooled for a second. A glance of light snuck in between the blinds as I walked by. On the couch was Denise. She was wearing a red nightie. I nearly fell back in shock.

"Aren't you with someone else?
"I never was. I didn't want to tell you I had to go to New York on an emergency. I knew you always tried to tag along when I had to go, so I made that story up.
"But... Why? I was actually searching for another person to date.
"I know. But I also know your methods and it takes you way too long to find someone else.
"But that was a dirty trick to do!
"I had to do it somehow.

I only gave her a blank stare, and sat next to her. I guess I preferred it this way over heh... bicycle girl, sorority girl or asian loudmouth. I'm done searching. Denise is just right.

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