Monday, September 1, 2008

What I Did This Summer

She was one of those girls bare feet looked good on, with the cut-offs, the spaghetti straps, the bottle of lemonade than was only half lemonade, the fine soft hairs that glowed over her tan, her golden eyes and palms that never sweated and when she bit me I was actually at first, quite nonplussed, then shocked and hurt and embarrassed for her. That was my feeling: I can’t believe you just did that. This really changes my whole opinion of you. Then I got very, very sick that week and I didn't see her because I was somewhat angry about the whole thing. Then the following week, I bit back and it made me feel better, it made me feel better about the whole thing.

We ran a lot, by the lake, through the park, in the street. We ran and threw and caught Frisbees and balls that sometimes weren’t ours, but we were good sports about it. We visited other people’s barbecues and birthday parties and brought beer and were generally quite welcome. We played with other people’s kids and jumped in the water and jumped out of the water and dried off together on the rocks. We would laugh and have fun and dare each other in barking contests, getting stuff from strangers, chasing dogs and squirrels and people rollerblading and little tiny dogs, and people laughed to see us only if no one saw us we would pop their little necks just for kicks because it makes a sound you will never forget, like listening to Blue Oyster Cult on a really good stereo.

It was a
long summer and I really had nothing to do now, in fact, I had gone pro about doing nothing, found my possessions on the curb and picked out only what I needed and could carry and really didn’t miss the books I was never going to finish anyway or most of my stuff, because it had all lately started to get scratched and seriously busted up and smelled like wet dog. We gave my stuff away to kids on the street, students, people who didn’t want the things we were giving them and threw the TV off an overpass. We also cut my landlady’s legs off and slow-cooked them in her oven while she watched (rather appalled) but that was not about revenge, it was because she was in at the time and because I did want my stereo. But the funniest part, the part I laughed about all summer was that the thing that upset her the most, that really made her mad, wasn’t any of all that. It was taking a crap in her apartment. That drove her nuts. That was too much. She was taking that out my deposit and good luck renting another place just as nice and eating another landlady. We left her cats alone, because they were sweethearts.

And the city was great, we loved the city, there was something every week, a party, a festival, an escape at the zoo. We liked the museums. We liked good cheap restaurants. We liked terrible cheap restaurants. We liked cheap, cheap bars and the people who go to cheap, cheap bars and generally broke even by the end of the evening. But it was a great time to be outdoors and let the wind play with your ears. There was all this stuff to look at: people, kites –fireflies. And fun smells. We bathed in the fountain and little kids played with us. It was good to sleep outdoors. I was always happy, just plain happy and
enthused about everything, when I woke up, just because I was awake, and when I saw her there with me I would be even happier, so happy I had to bone her.

And when things got a little too hot in the city or there were questions we could disappear to the country and the country is beautiful and you get your peripheral vision back and there are huge fields and farmer’s dogs and cows and a barn nobody watches. And you can ride together in the back of a pickup or put your heads out of the window. You're cute together, a natural pair, clean, healthy and friendly and country people like you and you meet the whole family and have a real sit-down dinner. And when you are sitting there on the porch drinking lemonade that someone’s mom has made for you, or just watching the sun set, someone slaps you on the shoulder or pets you on the head, and the old feller, old enough to be your father, asks you where you’re like to settle down if you like the country, and you remember that you are pretending to be newlyweds again and this
is a kind of honeymoon and she squeezes your hand and smiles the sweetest smile and the old man smiles and your ears feel all hot but you can’t help smiling too.

And when it’s time to go, you have a picture of that place and that beautiful family in your mind and it’s the most perfect thing. And on the way back to the city driving the pick-up, you come across a youth group from the city (
Our Lady of Guadalupe) and they are going camping for the first time and it is obvious they do not know the first thing about camping and so you take a little time, go back a little the way you came and you show them, boys and girls, how to set up their tents, how to start a fire and some other things. And that night, you come back to their tents and you show them some other things, boys and girls, and you take turns and you fill up their digital cameras with some really amazing pictures that make her laugh so loud at the truck stop on the way back that you really have to go, go now –sorry, we're newlyweds, that’s our van, I’m Pastor Mike (don’t laugh girl, that’s what the van says).

And then it was cooler, it was Fall, and we both loved the Fall and we walked by the smart window displays and she liked what she saw, and I liked seeing her in it and it was definitely time for a new look anyway, very smart, and we paid cash and went to the latest bistro. And later the wind blew this way and that and despite my last landlady’s opinion, we in fact, found a
much nicer place, through much nicer people, such nice people and here we are enjoying our new furniture and surroundings and an actual record collection in much different taste and she puts her head on my shoulder and asks will we always be together and I said not if they kill you and she bit me and I put her into a choke hold and she connected with my solar plexus and she is not kidding around when she hits and I rotated her 180 degrees with respect to our new hardwood floor and we broke some stuff that we were planning to use later before getting to stop. Then she was all very cute as always and I pet the soft fur and nuzzled the ear and smelled the nice smell. Then we were very happy together and she rolled on her back and I licked her chin and we snuggled and I snored and she nudged me and whimpered, I feel like I want a little kid, can we have a little kid? and I mentioned that we just had a little kid and she said, no, jerkwad, I mean children of our own and I said sure, why not, we’re moving up in the world: we can have a whole litter. We’ll send them to the best schools.Opening Theme Music: Monarch covering "Erection" by Turbonegro


Jordan said...

Is this a repeat (or a prepeat)? I seem to remember another story like this.

Van Choojitarom said...

If you figure out which one, please let me know. I hate prepeating myself.

This story is actually part of a cycle of stories; the rest are compressed into 100 words stories because I am both that brilliant and that lazy:

"Loopy" is the name of the recurring character who unifies the series, who appears directly in all but one of the stories.

I was never sure if what these stories were about was perfectly obvious. Please let me know what the secret word is.

Jordan said...

lusus naturae

Van Choojitarom said...

It's true, all my stories about monsters, sometimes in love. Is it clear which kind?

Jordan said...

Well, you did promise your readers more werewolves. It seems to me that you delivered.