November 16, 2009

Kim Salt pt. 3

Fair pairing

Kim and Carrie hadn’t been on the best of terms since the start of the school year.  It had been a month and a half and they were already getting sick of each other.  This even after Carrie had been gone all summer.

They had been best friends since joining forces against those that would make them loners in the sixth grade.  If Carrie’s family hadn’t moved from one side of town to the other, Kim would have been forced to reckon with the kids that had been tormenting her since elementary school by herself.

The girls had a knack for alienating their peers by acting like the characters they read about in the numerous vampire novels they passed between themselves.  Carrie always made it a point to quote the oldest vampires they read about.  While the girls had each other, it wasn’t exactly a fair pairing.

Carrie was relatable but she wasn’t very nice.  As they suffered through middle school, Kim experienced the wrath of Carrie not getting her own way.  Her friend frequently scolded her.

And when Kim came home late after giving into peer pressure, she got scolded by her really, really unfair parents and she hated them and she slammed her door and played loud, sad, dark rock and roll.  She secretly wished she were a vampire and if she were she would turn Carrie into a vampire.  Then Kim would be Carrie’s master and she could boss her around. Kim would force her to eat and get fat like Carrie sometimes said she was!  Ha!

Kim would then realize that her best friend shoplifted the music she was listening to.  Extra copies for her because Carrie thought they should each have their own.  That way they wouldn’t have to share.

A rollie-pollie tear escaped to the tune of the all too dramatic recollection of Kim’s tumultuous relationship with her bossy, not very nice, selfless thief of a BFF.  She had to do something.  She couldn’t let this friendship end.  She couldn’t let Carrie find out her sham.

To be continued…

November 9, 2009

Kim Salt pt. 2

Brats, bitches, cool kids

Nerds, jocks, skanks, thugs, wannabes and other varied teens, all crammed through the clogged artery hallway, trying to muster the need to get to first period.

“Shit!” Kim was distraught.  “Fucking shit!”

“What?” Carrie reacted to what she thought was an over reaction.

“My life is a sham.  That’s what!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Carrie was becoming impatient with her best friend.

Leaning on her locker, Kim groaned into her hands.

“Oh god, I can’t tell you.  But it probably doesn’t matter because you’ll probably know by the end of the day anyway.  Ugh!  Why did we have to have homeroom together?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”  Carrie throws a book into her locker and pulls another out.  She takes off her coat and carelessly shoves it to the back.

“It means that if I had been handing you that note in sixth period, I wouldn’t have to spend all day being stared at.  And smirked at.”

“You’re paranoid.  I’m gonna be late.”  Carrie slams her locker, halfway playing mad.

“Fine.”

Kim watches Carrie rush away.

“Bitch.”

Kim hadn’t spoken as softly as she thought.

“Damn.”  Damon Spears reacted from his locker.

Carrie wasn’t playing mad anymore.  She walked away, deciding to bide her time.

Kim looked over at Damon.

“Do you think she heard me?”

“Oh, she heard you.”

To be continued…

November 7, 2009
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November 5, 2009

I Had A Bad Idea

“Why am in the car with this chick?  I can’t stand her. “

“Left, left!  Take a left!”

Hold onto your hats.  Woooooo!

“Jeeeeesuuus!”

“If she doesn’t kill us all first, I’m doing it when we get out of this car.”

Oh, god!  I hate this song!

“Of course you do.  I swear if she changes the – Son of a bitch!”

Am I going the right way?

“You’re fine.  Just keep going straight.”

Thanks.

“No!  No!  She did not just flirt with me in the rearview mirror.  Doesn’t she know?  She has to know.  I’m a friend of Jamie’s for God’s sake.  Not to mention that I forgive her for changing the station.  Lucky Star is probably one of favorites.”

How do you know Jamie?

“He’s sitting right next to you.  Ask him.”

“We used to fuck.”

Uhhhh, totally T.M.I.

“You asked.  Can you roll up your window?  It’s really loud back here.”

HE’S LYING.  WE’VE NEVER FUCKED.  HE WISHES.

“Your mouth wishes.”

T.M.I!  T.M.I!

“I’ll give you T.M.I. in your S.T.D. if you don’t stop using abbreviations!”

“It’s up here on the right.”

Hold onto your hats.  Whaaa-hoooo!

“Please.  Hit that light pole!  Put me out of my misery.”

Ooohhhh.  Grouchy pants doesn’t like to have fun!

“I’m out of this fuckin’ bucket man!  Smell you later crazy!”

PICK US UP AROUND THREE-ISH?

Do you have your pager on?

GOOD IDEA.

Yeah.  I’ll page you.  See you later.

BYE.

Jamie.

YEAH?

I’m NEVER getting in a car with your mom again!

November 2, 2009

Kim Salt

A deep breath in for hesitation

“my life is a sham”

“sham-wow!?”

“don’t be cute.”

“fine, i’ll be ugly.  your life is a sham.”

“thanks.  have you eaten anything today?”

“no.  you?”

“no.”

Kim released an audible sigh as she attempted to pass a note back to Carrie for what would be the last time.

“Kim Salt?”  Ms. Hovar had caught her.  “Please, bring your literature to the front of the class.”

Kim’s eyes followed her as she rolled heavily out of her desk and slump-walked to the front of the classroom with a perfectly folded sheet of notebook paper.  Reaching Ms. Hovar’s desk she presented the note.

“Sike!” Conrad Murray covertly blurted out of the side of his mouth.   The class chuckled.  Kim shot him an evil look.

“Read it to the class.”  Ms. Hovar demanded.  “Please.  I’m sure it’s important.”

Kim huffed as she turned toward her peers.

Unfolded the note.

A deep breath in for hesitation.

“My life is a sham.”

The bell rang, signaling the end of homeroom.  Kim’s sophomore classmates quickly left their seats. Kim and Carrie met halfway down a row of desks.  Carrie sarcastically smirked.  She shrugged, handing Kim her books.

The girls made a beeline for the door before Ms. Hovar had a chance to react.  They spilled into the hallway, joining a river of rowdy, hooting, teens.

To be continued…

October 31, 2009

October 30, 2009

She was angry.

She had every right to be.  Abandoned by her mother, beaten by her Grandfather, raped by her brother, anger is probably too general a term.

People say that it wasn’t completely her fault.  It’s complicated.  She killed seven men.  Was it because no one had a pity party?

“Thanks society for railroading my ass,” she spits into the camera.

She clearly doesn’t think it’s her fault she’s on death row.  But now that she is (and has been for over a decade) she just wants to get it over with.

Jeb Bush wants to help her help him so he signs the warrant.  Clearly a good move a month before elections.

Used again.

Aileen:  Life and Death of a Serial Killer

October 29, 2009

6:34

If you should wake up at 6:34 in the morning you might decide that you would like to exercise.  These are some of the things that might happen to you.

You will ride your bike to the natatorium.  It’s not too far and the traffic on a Friday morning won’t be too bad.  It’s too early for people to start worrying about being late.

The natatorium is a public place.  When you walk in you will say to yourself, “Oh yeah.  This is when the men of the park shower.”  Basically, there will be naked bums.  And by bums, you will understand that this will mean homeless butts.  They will be gossiping about people you, “don’t even want to mess with.”

You will choose the furthest lane in the pool and swim next to a larger lady wearing a snorkel.  She won’t stop the entire time you are in the pool or after you get out.  As a matter of fact she will have been going since before you even got in!  At one point you will notice the lifeguard girl zoning out on the larger woman’s butt as she swims by the lifeguard chair.  It is quite a sight.  You won’t blame her.

After an invigorating swim you will make your way back into the locker room, which will have been vacated.

On your way to your bike you will see first, a row of granny carts and second, grannies.  “Why are they all lined up here?” you will ask yourself, walking your bike to the curb, on the verge of asking a granny what this line is all about.  But you won’t.

You will stop at the grocery store for a few things.  One of those things is a half-pound of turkey.  Brenda will cheerfully help you.  She will smile and ask you if you would like a sample.  You will tell her, “No.  I know what it’s all about.”  She will respond with a hearty understanding, “Okay?”  Brenda will be picking up what you are putting down.  You will be amazed at the contrast of her short cropped bleached blonde hair against her dark skin tone.  When you thank her she will say, “Thank you, baby”, as if the pleasure were all hers.

All packed up and ready to go, you will approach your bike noticing a man.  He will be wearing a McDonald’s T-shirt tucked into jeans.  On his feet are a black sneaker and a white sneaker.  But what you will really notice are the lattice style, black 80’s pumps that dangle in his right hand.  He will present them to you asking, “For your wife?”  What you will think is, “Those will never fit my boyfriend.”  What you will say is, “Man, I don’t have a wife.”  He will tell you that once you make a million dollars you’ll get one.  Then you’ll say you’re working on it.  He will remind you to do it smartly and to remember the prodigal son.

And on your way home you (and by you I mean me) will think to yourself, “I wonder how many gay millionaires have wives?”

October 26, 2009

Billie Joel

I was trying to develop a character for I story I was writing.  A record had just ended. The quiet was too noticeable.

“I need a new record,” I thought to myself.

I asked myself what I thought this particular character might listen to.

Walking over to the record shelf, Billie Joel popped into my head.

Now, I am not so fond of Billie Joel but do have a couple records.  I can get down with a few of the singles but I have not ever listened to an entire album.

Convinced that this is what my character would listen to I concluded that it was time for Billie Joel to shine.  So, I threw Glass Houses on the turntable.

It sucks.

October 25, 2009
"That vomit session wasn’t what I needed it to be. It wasn’t, what’s the word? Cathargic."

— Boyfriend

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