This picture reflects how I am feeling at the moment.

Saturday, November 29, 2008


hues and shades...a work in progress

Red. Quite a lovely color. The color of my room, the color of my bed, the color of 40 percent of my clothes; The color of my face when I am around Tyler Garcia. Every morning I reluctantly wake up and head to the yellow bus. I sit in the grey seats and wait for the tanned Tyler. Life is simple.

I walk into the brick-grey school and sit in a bone-white room. I stare at my peach-skinned teacher and fall asleep on the black-marble table.

At the end of the day, I get back on the yellow bus and hide behind the gray seats. I walk back to my white house and head back into my Red room. The cycle is very predictable and comforting.

My name is Elliah James Winkler; An out fag, in the city of Albuquerque New Mexico. I use the term 'Fag' not because I am a homophobe, nor because I particularly like the word. I use it because it greatly lessens the pain when someone teases me about it. It is who I am, and I accept that.

Colors are a very important aspect of my life. I like to experience the subtle differences that color provides. Even more, I like to pay attention to the world around me. I love the small surprises that the universe provides. Like watching flies fuck. Most people don't care, nor pay attention to the flies kinky escapades. I do. It’s entertaining. I pay attention to the arguing couples at the mall, the flirting men in the bookstores bathroom, and the political arguments going on at Starbucks. They're interesting.

Black is the last thing I see before drifting off to sleep, my body awaiting a new day.

Chapter One: A rainbow day


Alarm: Dread and reluctantness as I hit the END ALARM button.

A yawn. A wake.

Toes hit the cold red tile, searching for the comfort that comes from my purple fuzzy slippers.

Slip. Comfort. Warmth.

The laws of gravity act upon my body as I plop myself onto the floor lethargically. I pull the top drawer of my chest of drawers and stare at all of my socks, all of the different shades and hues clashing.

I’ve noticed that most people have their socks in the bottom drawer. Not me! Mine are all on the top because my socks are a very vital part of my day. I pick the color of my socks to reflect the kind of day I want to have.

Today seems like a rainbow day. I search through the tangled mess for a pair of rainbow-striped socks. Once I find them, I Toss them onto my bed and open the second drawer. This has all of my red clothes. I pull out a pair of red-denim jeans and toss these along with my socks. I pull out the 4th drawer and stare at all the different shades of blue. I pick a turquoise button-up shirt and throw it with the rest.

I don't wear underwear. I see them as pointless garments. The last time I wore underwear was when I was 10. That was the year I started thinking. Then slowly fabric between my dick and pants seemed futile. However, my dad thinks there is just something wrong with my brain. He thought I had autism or some shit. I just resent underwear. End of story.

I slip on all of the clothes on my bed and run to the bathroom. I really need a piss. As the yellow piss contaminates the transparent water, I vaguely remember yesterdays drunken escapades. All I remember from the event is rum, screaming, pot and some shit about Tyler. I try to strain my brain for more details, but all my brain gives me in return is a dull ache.

'Ughhhhhh...Please don't bother me I'm having a fuckin’ hangover for crissakes!' my brain tells me in utter distress. I decide not to interrogate it any further.
I grab my iPod, and head out of the house. The wind blew, almost tauntingly it seems. Almost as if the universe was condemning me for not wearing warmer clothes. I give a shudder, and poke the earphones into my ear sockets. I press the play button, and out pours the beginning of Memories from Cats the musical.

Whenever I hear this song, I can almost imagine the old-lady cat, and exactly what she was going through. I love musicals, because the songs each tell a short story about a character or multiple characters. Every time you listen to a song from a musical, you can imagine the scene playing out in your head, and pretend, if only for a few minutes, that you are a cat who is trying to bring back her good memories to life if only for a few moments before she dies. You can pretend that you are Elphaba, the wicked witch of the west, who is sadly misunderstood. You can imagine living life with aids as you pretend to play as Tom Collins from RENT. You can try and imagine all of the pain, but also all of the joy that these characters go through.


Almost as if the world is conspiring against me, the bus drove right passed me, giving me the cold shoulder.

"Fuck" is the first word I utter out today.

"Fuck...Fuck, FUCK!" 2nd, 3rd, 4th.

I begin to chase after the bus yelling,"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

'Colorful ironic.' I think to myself, while looking down at my rainbow socks, panting. ' I'm sure having a rainbow day, alright'.

Muttering foul curses under my breath, I head back up the hill I walked down just a few minutes ago. My yelling made me forget about the state of the temperature outside, and my body swiftly lost its heat, and the little nicotine receptors in my brain began to nag at me.

'Eliah' Nicotine seems calls to me, 'HAVE A FUCKING CIGARETTE YOU TWAT!'

But I don't need convincing. I take out my pack of generic cigarettes out from my pocket and pop one of those melanoma sticks into my mouth, lighting it with a bic lighter.

'Flick your bic' I think to myself, finding myself giggling. Who actually takes that catch phrase seriously?

I end up before my house. My dad is at work, and Mom ditched me three years ago. I am as fucked as a greased up asshole at a gay sex orgy in a San Fran BDSM club.

Fuck, Fucking, Fucker, Fucktard, Fuckwit, Fuckwad, Fuckwipe.

Interesting words. They all branch from the word 'Fuck'. Fuck is an interesting word because not only is it a verb, adjective, and a noun, but it almost never fails to offend someone when used properly. The whole concept of profanity has always interested me. It is ponderous how a few select words can be considered bad when there are words like ‘extraordinary’ which is supposed to mean very special, but looks like it means EXTRA ordinary.

Closing the door behind me, I nearly fall onto my couch, cigarette in hand.

I have got a confession to make. I don't actually go to school every day like I said I did, and the fact that you believed makes me wonder..How much more can I make you, as the reader, believe more bullshit things about my life?

My dad is the guy who invented bubble wrap, and my mom is a 2 cent whore who wanders the streets of LA... Ha. Just bullshitting you.

I do not go to school every day, and infact I only go maybe 3 times a month. But the days I do go are really important to me because I get to see Tyler. I can only put up with the shame and embarrassment of being around him about 2-3 days a month, which is why, as you can tell, I only go 20 percent of the time.
Today is different however. Today I was supposed to drop out of school.

I was supposed to hand-in the papers that my dad signed, go home and start working on getting a GED.

Now I am just Fucked.

F U C K E D. Fucked.
* * * * * *
A solitary cheeto falls from my chest and onto the carpet as some crazy hicks on Jerry Springer start biting each other. I pick up the cheesy cracker up off of the floor and pop it into my mouth, savoring the artificial goodness.
‘I wonder what the fuck these things are made of....Hmm...Does anyone know? Whatever. Who cares. I don’t plan on living past 50 anyway...’ My mind ponders.

An obnoxious ringing sound suddenly overpowers all of the lovely noises on Jerry Springer. I get off of my ass and pick up the phone, cheeto residue staining the white phone a little.

“Yeah?” I answer.


“Oh...Hi Mrs. Peters”

“Your not in my class...Why?”

“Oh...about that...Um I really need to tell you--”

“Your dropping out aren’t you?”

“Yeah...How’d you know?”

“I can tell this shit...You learn a lot in 20 years of teaching.”

“’m sorry...I was going to turn in my papers today seeing that it is the last day of school this year...But I guess I can just do it next year.”

“Eliah...I was calling because we are shooting the script you wrote today. Everyone is wondering where you are. We thought you really wanted to do this”

Mrs. Peters really has great Guilt-Trip skills. She never fails to make my stomach clench in shame.
“I’m so sorry....but the fuckin bus--”

“There is no excuse...Which is why I kinda got my friend to come and pick you--”

“WHAT?! Fuck...I am NOT decent!” I exclaim, looking at the orange stains on my aqua shirt.

“Well then you better get decent, because he’s gonna be there in a few minutes.”


I hang up the phone and scramble around the house for some pants.


This time it is not the phone...

“FUCK YOU.....GET TO THE DOOR NOOWWWW” The doorbell seems to say to me.

I have no pants on, so I slip on some PJ’s and run to the door.

“Hey Eliah....Marla sent me here.”

“I know” I say with a tinge of resentment.

Its always strange to hear someone call your teacher by their first name. It seems very unnatural. Like hairspray. Hairspray is one of the most unnatural things to grace the planet since Cheetos and Plastic. Except hairspray can cause cancer....Unlike Cheetos and Plastic...Actually who knows, maybe when I grow to be 30, there will be people on PSA’s saying shit like: “Don’t eat cheetos...I have cancer because in the 90’s a cartoon cheetah got me hooked”.

“Yeah, so get into the car, I have an appointment to get to..” He replies timidly.

“What kind of appointment?” I ask, hoping that it was not to personal of a question.

“Uh..AA” He replies, avoiding even the slightest eye-contact.

I cant help but visualize a situation in which he is drunk this very moment. I imagine that he starts giggling maniacally and accidently swerves right off the road. My head hits the airbag...but it pops because the poor thing can’t support my immense head. Then my head pops as it hits the windshield, due to the fact that I forgot to wear my seat belt. We are both severely injured, but quite unfortunately, a cop finds us and fines me 100 dollars for not wearing a seat belt. No health insurance. No lawyer.

However, I quickly snap out of this nightmare when I hear a voice trying to talk to me.

“So, ya ready?”
“Yeah” I shrug “Perhaps”


I guess every rainbow needs to evaporate eventually. Otherwise A rainbow would not be such an amazing experience. It would end up being a bland household addition to the world. Like the sun, or the sky, or perhaps the stars.

The rainbow ended abruptly at the brick-laden school. Sort of like when a kid drops its ice cream. There’s no more.

As I walk towards the end of my rainbow, I see no pot of gold.

Instead, I see something better:
I see Tyler.

Grinning, I wave my hand at him, and he responds with a boyish smile. The smile that melts my heart.

I hate it when people use the term “Melts my heart”, or “I feel it in my heart”, because I resent how everyone is so obsessed with the idea that your heart is some magical emotional device. Well I hate to hurt your heart, but it’s not. Its an organ that pumps blood all around our body, including the brain. Why don’t we use a metaphor like: “He melts my brain” or “I can feel it in my noggin”. Cause’ that makes a lot more logical sense.

However, all logical thinking evaporated in the instant that he looked at me. My IQ plummeted down about 30 points.

“Hey gorgeous”

Gorgeous? Oh my dog! Did he just call me...Gorgeous? My life has been nothing but “Fat” “Lazy” “Ugly”....But this...This is a whole new level of patronization. I can already feel the blood pumping into my brain at an accelerated level!

Think fast!

“Hey cutie”

Cutie? What? Is that all I could come up with? How about “Hey Stud” or even something outlandish like “Nice ass”...but cutie?

The word Cutie belongs to the 60’s or some shit.

None of the less, Tyler awarded my bravery with another smile.

Then he walked away. I could already sense that this would be the last time I would see him again. He had been talking to me about perhaps joining the military.
I thought he was being stupid and reckless. I also thought that he needed to think this things through more. I’m more than likely just amazingly biased. I’m a blasphemous liberal pacifist. I probably just need to be in his mind to know why he feels this way.

The day went on as it always does. With the exception of lunch. I wandered off school campus to have a smoke. This is what I always do. However, today I noticed a starbucks a couple blocks away.

Grinning, I make my way across the road and onto the sidewalk. I puff on my cigarette as if it was my baby bottle. Once I approach the evil coffee corporation of monopoly demise, I step in to the innocent coffee shop.

The smell of coffee fills my nostrils. I feel almost as if I am getting a contact high from the coffee in the air. There is an old lady standing behind the cash register. That’s a refreshing break from the stereotypical piercing lady.

So I walk up to Mrs. Grandma and she asks me the normal question: “So what’ll it be?”

“Um...Just a large coffee.”

“You mean Venti?”

“Whatever. Just get me a regular coffee please.”

“Alrighty...That’ll be $4.14 cents please”

Starbucks is a really pretentious place. They name their drinks with very snobby language. Such as: Tall and Venti. I refuse to call it that. It is pointless and ridiculous.
Once the lady hands me my coffee, I head over to the furthest table which sits in the corner. I sit here so I can observe the people here. The pretentious twats typing away on their laptops, the other pretentious twats playing chess, and the couple making out.

‘Lovely’ I think, ‘Just what I need. A display of love. How sickening’

Cynicism has filled my brain in the past months. I used to have bohemian ideals of love and affection. Now it seems to have boiled down to naiveness and idiocy.
The more I see this so-called “love”, the more I think about the unattainable Tyler. He seems to have invaded my emotions head-on. My little crush troubles me to the extent that I can sit in my bed for a half-hour thinking about him, and how I will never in my kinkiest dreams be with him.

Tyler is what I call a ‘DJ’.

DJ is a boy I used to have a major crush on in 8th grade, and not because I particularly liked him. It was because he showed a little bit of interest in me. He would call me “sweetie” and other cute shit like that. He told me that despite my messy hair, and strange fashion sense, he thought I was quite sexy.

This pulled me way overboard, into the sea of lust and love. DJ suddenly seemed very attractive, even though I never thought he was very attractive before. Suddenly, I imagined that he must have a huge package, and a lot of stamina. I also deluded myself into believing that perhaps he was also someone who would love me back.
Unfortunately, that was not the case. He ended up confessing that he was just confused about his sexuality and wanted to try out a relationship with a boy. Sort of like smelling different scents of soap at Bath and Body works. It turned out that my scent was not as pleasant that he hoped.

So from then on, any boy who showed any interest in me, became a DJ. I never bothered to take in account that people might actually be attracted to me, until recently.
Throughout the school year, Tyler came onto me in ways that nobody has ever dared to try before.

For an example, there was one time in the bus that he sat right next to me, and put his hand on my thigh. He ran it dangerously near my crotch and whispered “You like tigers?” I answered “Sure”

“Rough....Aggressive” he continued, winking at me.

As you can probably tell, that knocked all rational thought out of my brain, and my lungs seemed to expel all of my air.

He continued to do things like this all year. I thought he was a DJ.

Now, I am not so sure.

The smell of coffee brought me back into reality, and away from my thoughts. I sipped the caffeine down my throat, the warmth of the liquid calming me down. The slightly bitter taste waking me up.

Just as I heard one of the chess players call out “CHECK MATE!”, the pretentious lady closed her laptop, and the couple stopped swapping spit.

The bus-ride home was anything but exciting...

Try: Tedious, Boring, and loud.

As usual, Tyler did not say one word to me, which didn’t bother me much, cause all I wanted at this point was to get out of this yellow death trap, and into fresh air where I could inhale nicotine into my lungs.

After an hour of waiting, the bus-driver finally arrived at my bus stop, which is a red stop sign that is about 4 blocks away from my house.

After lighting up a cigg, I go about my usual routine of walking home. The wind is still managing to be blowing just as hard as it was this morning. The wind deserves one large bitch-slap, thats what I think. If only the elements had feelings,life would be so much easier.

I feel like a hobo wandering the streets in PJ’s and a cheeto stained dress-shirt. Whatever. Fashion is not quintessential to walking home from school. Is it? Maybe in manhattan or some shallow place like that.

When I finally arrive at my home, I make an effort of stomping out my cigarette before stepping into the house.


Bedtime always seems to be when all of the exciting shit happens. Which is why I revolted against the idea when I was about 10.

I knew that a bedtime was a bullshit standard, only put in place so that the parents could exert an overwhelming amount of control on their kids.

Where do all these neurotic parenting rules come from? Is there some bullshit land that has bullshit messengers who send the bullshit across the wide earth?

In my humble opinion, all this bullshit is Oprah’s fault!

...Okay fine, not ALL her fault, Dr. Phil (Who, ironically was later found out not to be a real doctor) holds some of the blame.

The whole idea behind this “CONTROL YOUR KIDS!” Bullshit originates from the utter diarrhea that Dr. Phil and Oprea are always spewing out of their conceited little mouths!
Opera will say shit such as: “On our show today is a mother who has lost her daughter at the playground. We well tell you how to prevent it.”

Dr. Phil will say shit like: “CONTROL YOUR KIDS ma’am! Ya’ need ta’ learn how ta’ keep em’ in check, or ya’ gonna lose em’!”

Anyway, the point is that Opera, and “Dr.” Phil are both thunderous pricks who should not be trusted!

It is 2:00 AM, and I am sitting on my computer chair, listening to a podcast, like usual. I listen to a very informative, and entertaining podcast called “The Skeptics Guide to the Universe”, Named after the amazing Douglas Adam’s series “The Hitchhikers guide to the Universe”.

They talk about interesting science news items, discuss them, and debunk any pseudo-science that disgraces our society. I love listening to it because it makes me feel well-informed. That’s a very shallow reason, I know, but it’s true.

I hear a spontaneous bleeping sound, coming from my computer. Curious, I click the window that pops up. It was an Instant Message! I very seldom get instant messages, because my only friend on the list, Beth, is never online. Mostly because her crappy PC won’t successfully download anything worth a shit.

Me, however, with my fancy and snobbish Mac, never have to worry about silly things like that.
I read the message:

GasolineRaynebow: Call me!
I reply:
CynicalEliah: Wow, you seem excited. Whats up?
GasolineRaynebow: Just call me, poopface D:

I mentally sigh, and get up from my comfy computer chair, and make my lazy journey to the center of my house. This is where my phone is.

Almost as soon as I finish dialing the number I hear Beth’s eccentric, yet charming voice.

“Let’s party!”

“Beth, its two in the morning.” I exasperate.

“Seriously. My parental-unit is leaving for work early, so I can make it over to your house!”


Beth’s mom is overworked and under-paid. Severely. Apparently she went to collage and studied to be a geologist, only to end up being a tele-marketer with 4 children: Beth, Juliana, Bella and Robert. The last three are what Beth describes as “The Evil Ones”, quite endearingly.

They come a few times a week, like a more often period.

“So are the evil ones over?”

“Not yet, my mom is going to go pick them up now. So I need to get outta here!”

“Ah. Fine. When are you gonna be here?”

“Fifteen minutes”

“Fine. See ya.”



So now that I am expecting company, I am going to actually have to put on some pants. Just peachy.


Somehow Beth persuaded me to get off my ass at 3:00 in the morning. Not only did she get me off of my ass, she also got me walking with her on a two mile journey down to wal-mart. Here’s the catch: For no reason.

Beth can literally get me to do anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if someday she got me to quit smoking. Which is a bigger task then you would probably imagine.
I smoke around a pack a day. I chain-smoke constantly while writing, talking on the phone, or reading. All of which takes up most of my life. Mostly the writing part.

I keep a secret blog on the internet that even Beth doesn’t know about. Actually, she knows about it but not where it is. I write on it constantly, posting short-stories, essays, poems, and other shit I am too embarrassed to let her read.

So here I am, a chain-smoker, in the middle of the dark, at 3:00 in the morning, walking to wal-mart for no reason.

At first, this was merely exhausting and boring. But eventually we made it interesting and liberating.

We passed a house which had a huge virgin mary statue, staring at us as if to say: “DONT USE CONDOMS....SEX IS BAD...ABORTION IS WRONG”

Beth looked at me in the way, I knew she was going to suggest something interesting.
“I dare ya to knock it over.”
I looked over at the horrid virgin mary, then back to Beth. I sensed that she was bluffing. She didn’t think I was gonna do it!
“Okay!” I say spitefully.

I run up to the fence, jump over it and soon find myself in this catholic back yard. There were red lava rocks organized flawlessly in front of the statue. With one swift move, I run across the rocks, knock the statue down, and head back over the fence feeling more liberated then I did while throwing eggs at my shrinks car.

This made the journey seem a lot shorter than it was.

By the time we got to Wal-mart, our legs were sore, and we came to realize that this whole endeavor was pointless simply because we have no money.

The parking lot was strangely empty. Usually there are thousands of doughy people walking around. At 4:00 in the morning it is vacant. The only light was coming from 3 street lamps, so it was mostly dark.

“Its like a goosebumps novel!” I remark.

“Shut up!” Beth responds in a scared tone.

Just then a shopping cart rolls down towards us. I let out a terrified shriek. Beth then begins laughing her ass off.

“Hey,” She says, “Why don’t we push each other back up the hill in it?”

I quickly shake my head.

“I’m WAY too heavy for you”

Beth responds with a “Pshawww”

“Fine. Let’s do it. Only your going to have to push me around here so you know how heavy I am.”

“Okay, get in!”

I reluctantly climb into the Wal-Mart shopping cart and take out my cigarettes. I light one and say “I’m ready when you’re ready”

I feel my stomach lurch as Beth begins to push her energy into the cart. The momentum nearly makes me sick. As small as she may seem, Beth has about as much energy as an ox when she wants to prove me wrong.



We hit the curb. Beth pants out all of the extra energy left in her body.

I sigh.
“Well, I’m still alive!”

I look back at her, grinning.

As I’m getting pushed up the hill in a stolen cart, I think.

‘How the fuck does such an amazing person want to spend time with me? Let alone push my fatass up the hill.’

I begin smiling uncontrollably. I have the best friend in the world, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for her.


It is very good to be home, espescially when home means not having to climb up a steep road for hours.

The second that my feet hit the floor of my house, I hear a very unnerving sound.

"What the fuck?" Beth says.

I look around the living room for any sign of unwanted visitors.

Another sound.

I look even quicker around the room in utter horror.

"Beth...I think I heard a rat"

She indulges me with a smirk, humoring my terror.

Yet another sound.

I yelp, and run right back out of my house almost at the speed of light. Einstien would be proud.

"Fuck..fuck...fuck...we have vermint!" I pace around back and forth around my front yard, ligting up a cancer stick.

"When you get cancer...I'm going to laugh...Then cry." Beth informs me.


But right now, there are bigger issues then mere cancer. We have rats in the house.

"Okay...How are we gonna do it?" I ask.

"Do what?"

"Kill them, of course!"

Beths eyes narrow. "It's not their fault they're rats!"

"Its not my fault I hate rats!"

"Tuche' "

We look around the front yard for something that screams "RAT INNIALATOR!"

I find a big rock, and Beth finds a screwdriver.

"A screw driver? Don't you find that a bit sadistic?"

"Hey, your the one who wants to kill the motherfucking things."

I look back at the infested house. I used to look at that house and say "Omigod, its my house!" Now all I can think is "Rats live in that house."

Beth grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the house. "Okay, you're going to have to deal with your little rodent-phobia" She tells me with a sadistic gleam in her eyes.

"Oh god, Beth...NO!"

She lurches forward and tackles me onto the sofa. I am trapped between a couch and a couple of breasts.

I hear more scuttling. The sound closley resembles the sound of some evil, demented, sick music which is played at haunted houses during halloween. The rats continue to take over my house, leaving sounds and, more than likely, poop behind. Yet Beth still continues to torture me.


Needless to say, I soon got over the fact that mice are slowly taking over my house. Partly due to the fact that Beth insisted that I listen to every excrusiating sound for around 10 minutes. After I agreed to stop freaking out about it, she finally freed me from my awkward boob-trap.

It is also needless to say that if I were straight, I would be one of the happiest men in the planet.

The rest of the night was filled with restfull sleep.

It is 2:00 PM and Beth is still dreaming away. I, however am wide awake, and bored as hell.

It is times like these, that myspace is a perfect getaway.

It's like logging into a world of fakeness. On myspace, you can basically be or do whatever you want. I personally prefer tricking sexy men to trade naked pictures with me. I click myself over to the gay chat room and begin to do my thing:

"Anyone wanna trade pics? Press 666"

Obviously, 3 or 4 people send me some Private Messages. So now I get to decide which guy sounds the sexiest. I normally pick the ones who get right to the point, which is why I decided to reply to a guy who said "I wanna c u naked"

He sends me a link to his nakedness. I click it, and what I see not only shocks me, but also puzzles me.

I see Tyler's sexy face, but also his beautiful manhood.

Fuck! Tyler's gay?

This is like a dream come true! Actually not A dream, about 20 dreams to be frank.

Suddenly my giddyness overpowers my logic.

"BETH!" I yell.


I hear disgruntled groaning erupting from a couple rooms away. Beth decided to sleep in my dad's bed dispite my warnings of possible dried old-man cum.



After much more bickering, and obsenitys, she finally gets out of her slumber and into my room.

What she sees shocks her also, but not for the same reasons as me.

"You fucking woke me up so that I can see some fucktard's dick?"

"It's not any fucktard's dick...That's Tyler's dick!"

"Oh...That cunt"

Beth has issues with my strange obsession with Tyler. Mostly because he manipulates my brain, twisting and turning it until I don't know what's sideways.

"Why the fuck do you continue to fantasize about him...And more importantly, where did you get this picture?"

"It's like destiny..." I say, dreamily.

"I thought you didn't believe in destiny!"

"Fuck you! His name should be destiny."

We both start cracking up in laughter.

Me, for feeling hypocritical.

And Beth, for seeing Tylers Uncurcimsized penis.

"It looks like an alien" She critiques.

"No, no...I think it looks more like ET's finger."

"Or a deformed hat."

"Or my grandma on a good day"

Suddenly, I get hit with a strange sense of Deja' Vu. I feel like I have seen that dick somewhere. I just can't place where. But that thought quickly fades away as soon as I hear the front door open.

"Fuck. It's my dad. Hide!"


Beth shuffled under my bed almost instantly. I heard my dad walk in from the living room, and soon, to my sliding glass door. I tried to act causal. However, I forgot to close the window on my computer with naked Tyler.

My dad ominously walked into my room.

"WHAT THE FUCK OVER?" Dad remarked at the naked picture.

I never understood that phrase that my dad constantly uses. "What the fuck over?"

Its what the fuck...then over? Perhaps it came from people in the airforce! Think about it. They are so used to saying "over" after every single thing they say, that it would not suprise me one bit that before someone got blown up their last words were "WHAT THE FUCK OVER!".

I quickly drift away from this train of thought to explain myself.

"Its a naked picture, yes." I say, quite bluntly.

My dad gives my the evil-eye which really doesn't ever effect me because I know that if he were to beat me up, I could just call child services. I may not like being a teenager, but I sure take advantage of it.

He soon leaves the room after muttering something under his breath. I pull the curtains which give my privacy in my room with a glass door.

Beth crawls out of her hiding spot and looks at me with a "What-the-fuck-are-we-gonna-do-look".

I open my window and tell her to climb out, and that I would call her mom to go pick her up.

What a lovely end to such a lovely morning.

It is evening, and I am laying on my bed, studying the celling. It fails to interest me, as usual. So I begin thinking.

"At least schools over..."

Then a startling thought came to mind:


Quite ironic, really. I was so pissed that I wouldn't have dropped out before summer came! Then, because I was in a rush to look presentable at school, I forgot my papers.

Maybe the christians are right about vanity. It can sometimes be a downfall.

I bask in my hatred for myself for a few minutes before deciding that I have no life. There's no use avoiding the fact that my life consists of thinking, eating, going on the computer, and shiting. Am I forgetting something? Oh yes, Pissing.

It's quite depressing really. Depression. Don't even get me started on depression. Well, I feel like bitching about depression, so yes, do get me started on depression.

Depression seems to be the new fad. Everyone claims to have it, so they can look like they are very deep, profound people. If you have to pretend to have a mental illness to be liked, then you really are quite the opposite.

I however really do have diagnosed clinical depression. Doesn't that sound professional? Ha.

I take 50 Milligrams of Prozac every day, just to get by. It helps a lot, but just by nature, I am a very pessimistic person, and no medicine is ever going to change that about me. The way I see it, pessimism is a very good outlook on life. Because if you assume the worst is going to happen, and it in fact, happens, then you expected it and are not too surprised. However, if it doesn't happen, then we are all nice and jolly.

Optimism is illogical and masochistic. Also, optimists disgust me to a degree that is very unhealthy. I don't talk to anyone who is optimistic about everything. I see them as irrational, and uninteresting. Did I mention disgusting? Yes, I believe I did.

Thinking is tiring, I decide before rolling over in my bed, and pulling my blanket over me.

I drift off into sleep, with all my pessimism and doubt.


It is cold. It is very cold. Why is it so cold in the summer?

I open my eyes and see the reason, literally on the tip of my nose. It is my tile floor. Fuck. I must've fallen out of my bed.

I slowly get up.

A sharp and demanding pain pierces me in the side. Cursing, I try to get myself up with no luck.

In my utmost horror, I find that when I poke the side of my body, a bone moves a little. I am now fully awake, fueled by the absolute terror that is pulsing through my veins in the form of adrenaline.

I'm not sure exactly what to do in a situation like this. Do I scream? Will my lungs collapse if I do? Is it even my rib cage that is broken? Will the broken bone of my rib turn into a fully grown woman named Eve? I have no clue.

So I manage to stand myself up, and make my way to the phone in the living room. The first person that comes to mind is my dad. Not the police. Not the ambulance. The person I despise the most. My dad.



"Dad..I think I broke my rib."



"Haha. Very funny. Fuck you." He hangs up.

I look at the phone in disbelief and disgust. Its like the boy calls wolf story! I lie all the time, so this is just karmatic payback for my evilness.

I decide that the next logical thing to do is call 9-1-1. I have never broken anything in my life, so you can imagine the horror that I am going through right now.

Everything after the call is a blank.

I feel a rush of air, forcing its way into my mouth. Opening my eyes, I see that I am in a hospital, on oxygen. There is a male doctor hovering over me.

"Good. You're up" he says. I notice that the doctor is one of the sexiest doctors that I have ever gazed upon in my whole entire life. I try to smile, but the oxygen prevents me. I want to ask 'Why the fuck am I in here?', but again, the oxygen is preventing me.So I settle with staring at the eye-candy before me. His jaw is immaculatly defined, and there is a little bit of brown stubble on it, wraping around to the sides of his head. His short brown hair is slightly messy, just enough so he doesn't look like a hobo.

I see his hand reaching toward me, and I tense up, before realizing that he is taking the oxygen off. I breath the real air. It tastes slightly diffrent than the oxygen that I was on.
I breath out the question that I am so eager to ask.

"Why...Why the fuck am I in here?" I ask, feeling my voice waver.

The doctor smiles at me and puts his hand on my forehead. "Carbon Monoxide poisining knocked you out. But you'll be fine, we flushed your system with a saline solution, and had you on oxygen for a while. We called your dad, and he said he would be here in a few minutes."

Someone opens the door. It's Beth. How the hell did she know I was here of all places?

"Beth? What the fuc--"

"What the hell happened?"

"What do ya mea--"

"I mean, why the fuck are you in a hospital! Your dad called, and told me you were here. I managed to get my mom to drive me here. We only live a couple miles away."

I nod, perplexed at the whole situation. It feels like some very eccentric dream. I feel like I should be waking up soon. However, I am not, and this fact is rather nerve-racking.

"Well..I thought I broke a rib, so I called my dad, and he didn't believe me, so I called 911 and as soon as I know it, I'm here. The doctor tells me I had carbon monoxide poisining."

Beth looks around the room. I notice that the doctor must have left. Which is quite unfortunate because I rather liked staring at him.

Beth sits on a chair by my pathetic bed. She starts laughing.

I look at her and realize that this whole situation is amazingly rediculous, so I start laughing along with her, almost forgetting that there would eventually be a doctor bill.

A few weeks pass since the carbon monoxide incitent. It turns out that our heater was broken and was leaking. I was very lucky that I called 911 or I might be dead. Which I guess is arguably better than listening to my dad bitching about the bills he is being charged for the whole thing. He has to pay 500 dollars for the ambulance bills, and around 1,400 dollars for the hospital bill. Hopefully, his union insurance is going to pay for some of it. But I think that it only covers normal doctors visits. Not emergancys.

The rest of the time I spent in the dull hospital room was mostly waiting for the okay to go from my sexy doctor. I probably will never see him ever again, but I can still dream about it, and jack off to it later.

One minute after I got home, I put a cigarette into my mouth and lit it. After all of that carbon monoxide being pulled out of my body, I needed more in it. It felt so good to suck in all of that nicotine into my lungs. I love carbon monoxide. I really do.


It is now the second week in the month of june, and my dad is sending me off to stay at my grandparents house. At first I was excited, but now, the more I think about leaving Beth and the little social life that I have back in New Mexico, the more it sucks. My grandparents live in a rich town in California called Arcadia. They have an amazing mall, a good coffee shope that isn't starbucks, and a decent library with internet access. So in other words, its not going to completely suck.

The weather in California is much diffrent then the weather in New Mexico, in that Californias climate is more bareable.

New mexico is like being turned into dried up rasins, while California is like taking a really warm, hydrating bath. I like humid heat A LOT more than dry heat.

Plus, California is more pleasing to the eye. Very colorful. It is like a color-orgasm compared to the flacid-dick colors of New fucking Mexico.


"Ticket?" The lady asks me as I try to step on the train. I pull out my amtrac ticket from my pocket and she takes it, tears something it it, and hands the rest to me.

"B7" She tells me, and I assume she means that my seat is B7.

I hope I don't have to sit next to anyone. Fuck, I hate sitting next to people I don't know. It fucking sucks. Espeically when they smell. How the fuck am I going to be able to travel 2,000 miles next to someone who smells. Fuck.

The numbers and letters pass me by as I get nearer, and nearer to my number and letter. I see B7 up ahead, and to my dismay, someone is sitting on the next seat over. All I see is brown hair. It is quite famillier. Sort of like Tyler's brown hair. I come nearer and, in my horror, it IS Tyler!


I turn on the soles of my vans and hustle back down the isle.

Eventually, after passing through a few sections of the train, I make it to the lounge car. I have thirty bucks with me, so I go down the stairs to the bottom floor of the longe car where the snacks are sold.

There is a black lady with a name tag that has the logo of Amtrac, and her name, which is Alexandrea. Once she is finished helping the person infront of me, we are alone.

I walk over her and whisper to her, slipping her my thirty. "Give me a bottle of vodka and you can keep all of the change."

She gives me a dirty look, like all bartenders gave me in the past whileist bribing them. Her eyes pierce through my skull, and I suddenly feel very anxious.

"Fine" she says, "But you mention this to NO ONE. And you drink this in the bathrooms" she looks around nervously handing my a bottle of orange-flavored vodka, which I immeaditly slip into my messenger bag.

"Thanks. So much"

I turn around and nearly fly up the stares and into the bathroom, located in the next car. I am going to need to be fucked-up drunk to be anywhere near Tyler. Why the fuck does this shit happen to me. TWICE! AND I DON'T EVEN BELIEVE IN DESTINY, DAMNIT!

I open one of the bathroom containers and enter in, inconspicuously. The plastic-looking door squeaks at me as if it is smiting me for being an underage drinker. I mentally snarl back at the door, calling it ugly before entering the even uglier bathroom.

Well what can I expect really? Amtrac is cheap to begin with, and it's on a train for crissakes! So I guess I shouldn't be complaining about its lack of aesthetic value.

So I stop complaining, and proceed to close the ugly door behind me, sit on the ugly toilet seat, and open up my pretty messenger bag, taking out an even prettier bottle of vodka.

I set the vodka in-between my legs and open it. I bring the bottle up to my nostrils and sniff it. It smells like rubbing-alcohol mixed with an artificial orange smell. I crack a smile thinking about how easy I was able to bribe the snack lady, and also how easy I would be able to sit next to Tyler once I was finished with this bottle.

"1..2...3!" I whisper to myself, bringing the bottle up to my lips and beginning to down 1/3 of the bottle, my throat burning unpleasantly. However much pain I may be going through now, it is greatly going to improve the unpleasant feelings I am going to have to deal with later.

Gasping for breath, and a release from the burning in my throat, I close my eyes and wait for the first sign that I am at least getting a buzz.

The blackness of the back of my head feels great, so I keep my eyes closed, focusing on my thoughts. I start thinking about Tyler, and his immaculate dick. Then my mind wanders along, eventually thinking about the flirtatious encounters I have had with him. The time he stroked my thigh slowly, and teasingly, or the time he gazed at me with what seemed to be lust and wanting me. Me! Who would've though that someone in this immense planet would be attracted to ME. It is a surreal experience to think about how everyone in this world has the possibility to reach out to one person, and touch them in ways that make their emotions go wild.

The train begins to move. I open my eyes to see, once again, the absolute aesthetic terror which is the bathroom. I look down at the vodka bottle and bring it to my lips once again, this time counting down the seconds until I chug in my head.

', fuck it!......3!'

I begin to down more of the corrosive liquid into my stomach. Every few seconds I stop to breath some air through my nostrils, and continue to down the, rightfully named, firewater.

Almost suspiciously soon, I realize that the bottle is empty. Fuck, how the hell did I do that! My throat feels raw, and my mind a little numb.
I experiment my drunkness by standing up. Immediately I feel slightly dizzy, and happy. I smile goofily, and open the ugly door. I may be able to stand, or rather, sit against the terror that is Tyler Garcia.


"So anyway. Weren't ya on that myspace gay chat room a few weeks ago?" I giggle out, giddily. I prop my fist into my chin to prop my head up, smiling at Tyler.

Am I too drunk, or did he just blush...?


"Awwwww why're ya blushing, cutie?"

Cutie. One of my favorite cliche terms to call Tyler.

He looks around at the talking people, then looks into my eyes, nearly making my bones collapse in a love-struck-drunk way.

"That...that was you?" He whispers, making me shudder a little.

"Yeah...I didn't think you were gay! I thought you were some straight flirt that liked to mess with my head!" I slurred out.

He surprises me with a smirk. "Are you drunk?" He says in a voice that you would normally reserve for talking to cute babies or dogs.

"Ya just noticed?" I ask, blushing.

He just looks into my eyes with a look that you can tell is very knowing. A very suave and sexy look that pierces into your soul. Well, if I believed in a soul, then thats what it would do. What it actually does is release an extra amount of serotonin into my brain, making me very giddy and happy and aroused.

I look down from his sexed-up gaze and stare at the tacky, blue seat fabric.

Suddenly, I feel a warm hand moving my medium-long black hair away from my face, and tucking it behind my smallish ears. I shudder at the touch, looking back up into Tyler's enticing eyes.

He reaches his hand over to my thigh, and strokes it just like he did before. I tense up immediately, but eventually loosen up to his touch. Once I feel completely relaxed and content with his affections, I feel a light kiss on my cheek, feeling that cheek get hot and red.

I start to feel a strange urge to want to cuddle with him. So, without my decision making skills which I usually have without alcohol, I lean forward, and place my head on his chest, snuggling into him, basking in his warmth.

Soon all thoughts drift away and I just feel solace and comfort which Tyler provides. It is almost like I belonged here all along. On his chest. Peaceful and comfortable.

Home sweet home.


Light begins to burden my eyes through my eyelids. I lazily open my eyes and find my head on Tyler's lap, his hand on my head. I begin to stir from sleep. Tyler takes his hand off of me.

"Good morning star-shine!" He says, referring to one of my favorite musicals: Hair. This was a sweet gesture, so I continue.

"The earth says hello!" I smile, realizing how surreal this instance is. I don't even have a hangover! What the fuck?!

I lift my head away from his lap and stretch my arms forward. "I need a cigarette, how about you?" I ask, Friendly.

He nods and so I stand up, while stretching my back, and lead the way to the smoking lounge.

He takes his Malboro Reds out from his pocket, and I take out my Camels. We each take one cancer-stick from the aesthetically appealing packages (Oh my gosh! They might really actually target teens!), and place them between our lips, lighting them. Or, at least, I try to light one. My Bic (Flick your bic! Ha! Never gets old) almost smilingly ran out of fluid.

"Uh...Heh...Can I borrow your lighter?" I ask Tyler.
He nods, blowing out a puff of smoke, and reaches out his hand to light a fire on my stick of cancer.

I puff some tobacco into my lungs and exhale, as I start to feel the nicotine reactors in my brain begin to calm down from their withdrawal nagging.

I take another hit.

Tyler does too and lets out a relaxed "ahhh....It feels so good to finally have some nicotine. I didn't know their was a smoking lounge on the amtrac."

"Yeah, the only reason I know, is because my mom used to take us to California. She smokes, so she would always take us to the smoking lounge." I smile "By the way, where are you headed?"

"Same place as you...I kinda slipped my hand in your pocket last night, and felt some paper. So I pulled it out and found out where your headed. Fullerton right?"

"Right. Actually. I am stopping at Fullerton, but my grandparents are dropping me off at their house in Arcadia."

"Seriously? I'm going to my moms house in Monrovia! Thats only a city away! Maybe we can meet sometime!"

I nod frantically, loving all of the attention I never got during the school year.

"Yeah, we SO should!"

Tyler smiles. My heat-level rises.

He hands me the ligher he used earlier. "You can have it. I have another one in my luggage"

This gesture was amazingly sweet, so I nod and he drops it into my palm.


After we got finished with our cigarettes, we headed back to our seats where Tyler gave me his cell phone number, a long with his address. I gave him mine. He told me to keep this safe, because he was really looking forward to spending some of his summer with me.

I was just too smitten to think about all of this logically. I was in a cloud way above. And what goes up, also has to eventually, unfortunately, come down.


As all (or actually, most) trains do every day, our train arrived at its destination. Safely, and with all people in tact.

After trading our goodbyes, Tyler and I went our separate ways.

Him, with his mom, and me with grandma. Sounds pathetic doesn't it? Well it isn't. My grandma is one of the coolest people on the planet. I try to overlook the fact that she is Mormon, because she is a very liberal Mormon. In fact, I have a theory that she goes to church for its happiness, but is really an atheist at heart. Or rather, at deep mind. I hate the metaphorical term for heart. It's way too cuddly and cute for my liking.


I am currently staring at my cell phone, deciding if I should call Tyler.

The memories of yesterday on the train never fail to boggle my brain. Does he really like me? Or is he just another DJ? Did he only cuddle with me because I was drunk? Did he expect a blowjob? Or did he just want to be with me? Is he interested in a relationship, or a one-night fling? These questions make me want to vomit. I hate not knowing what someone else thinks about me. It's extremely unnerving to try and decipher all of the signs that another person seems to give you. Because they could just be deceiving you, or worse, fucking with you.

I sigh, and throw my cell phone away from me, hearing a soft clunking noise coming from the carpet in the guest room I am currently occupying.

When I am at my grandparent's house, I stay in a coral-orange room. The carpet is a generic pink, and the bed is twin-sized, and the mattress has cute little spaceships and stars. This used to be my Dad's room.

I turn over onto my side, and stare at the coral wall. It is very culture shocking to go from a red room, to a pinkish-orange room.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner are all made by a wonderful chef: My grandma. She is absolutely GIFTED at cooking. Everything she makes, I will stuff into my mouth. I love being able to eat three meals a day, mostly because at home, I will be hungry until my dad comes home and takes me out to a fast food restaurant. Her food is MUCH MUCH better than fast food.

And thats huge, coming from me.

I personally LOVE fast food. I could eat it (and do eat it) all day.

I love mcdonald's, Burger king, Taco bell, Del Taco (their quesadillas are to DIE for), Wendy's, Pizza hut, KFC, Sonic and the Panda Express. If it's unhealthy, I love it in advance. I wouldn't be surprised if someday I develop some rare cancer that only develops in people who eat McDonald's.

Most people would NEVER admit that they like Mcdonald's! It saves their dignity. Yet they fail to realize that there are hundreds and thousands of them per US state, and all over the world! Don't like it ,HA! Supply will never be that big if the Demand wasn't also big, motherfuckers!

I have NO dignity. None whatsoever! I'll admit to any given person that I masturbate 3 times on a daily basis, take one shower a day (if that), and LOVE fast foods!

I smoke, eat unhealthy, am a little overweight, and on top of that, drink occasionally, so I am a perfect candidate for some kind of disease , aren't I? I aspire to one day get cancer, Melanoma, blood clot, Diabetes, or anything really as long as it lets me go out of this earth with a bang! Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll get some newly discovered disease that will get me on the fucking NEWS!

That would make my life.

Sleeping is a very important aspect in my life. Not only because I need it to live, I also need it to be mentally sane. I have been known to sleep around 16 hours, stay up for 5 then go to sleep for another 7 hours.

The experts say that a human needs at least 8 hours a day to function properly. Well, I get 16, motherfuckers!

I wonder if that makes you more, or less healthy? I mean, you burn calories in your sleep, and also restore a lot of things in your body, so how can an extra 8 harm you?

My cell phone's obnoxious ringing wakes me from my comfortable slumber. I groan, reluctantly getting up and picking up my cell phone from the floor. I open it up, instinctively and answer.

"Yeah?" I clear my throat

"Did I wake you up?" I hear Tylers voice ask me.


"Yeah, but it's fine. I've been meaning to call you but..."


"I got kinda distracted?"

"You didn't think I was going to call you did ya? "

"Well, no. Not really"

"I'm not that much of an asshole, seriously."

After a little bit of conversation magic, we begin to drift off into new subjects, like science and politics. We started talking about the LHC (Large Hadron Collider), A controversial device which is Miles long. What it does, basically is shoot two atoms at each other, and what the scientists are looking for is insight on what is smaller than an atom.

Scientists previously thought that you couldn't get anything smaller than an atom. However, evidence is showing some strange particles that are inside them called "Higgs Boson's". This is a HUGE step in science. Noneoftheless, there always has to be people opposed to science. People began theorizing that perhaps smashing atoms with such a huge speed might cause a black hole to expand and suck the whole world in. This is an almost non-existent risk according to well-trained experts. They would NOT build something that could potentially destroy the world.

We then move onto simpler things.

We start bitching about George W. Bush. Arguably, the worst president in US history.

Then we just start flirting, which eventually led to a very exhilarating session of phone sex which resulted in orgasms on both sides.

Nearing the end of the conversation Tyler gave me instructions to a coffee shop in Monrovia where we could meet up.

This was probably the most macabre conversation I have ever had in my whole existence.

Even more Macabre then the conversation I once had with a Drunk, Stoned and Giddy Beth. I would elaborate, but the details are much too embarrassing.

Soon after, I lay back down onto my bed, and sleep comfortably, and with no more pleasant disturbances.


I wake up, feeling my throat. It feels a little sore. So I get out of bed, and to my surprise, it is 7:00 in the morning. I can't remember waking up this early for anything, despite school. Yawning, I stretch my arms over my head and step out of the guest room, and begin to head to the kitchen so that I can check to see if anyone's up.

Looking around, I see that no one has graced the kitchen's presence yet. So I deem this as a sign that I won't get caught smoking in the front yard.

My dad knows that I smoke, and doesn't give too much thought about it. My grandparents, however do not. I can remember so many lectures that my grandpa gave me telling me about all of the horrors of smoking. He used to smoke and, from what he tells me, quitting was the hardest thing he has done in his life. So my grandpa finding out that I, indeed, smoke would be like a big middle finger to everything he has tried to talk to me about.

Carefully opening the front door so that it doesn't creek, I step out into the fresh and moist air. California has amazing air in the morning. Despite all of the carcinogens that I probably inhale directly from the air, it is comforting and pleasant to inhale the moist air. To do this in New Mexico, you would have to buy a humidifier, but even a humidifiers calming smell would not be able to even come close to an amazing Californian morning.

Sprinklers are watering lawns in the distance, and the sound is somehow relaxing. As the lawns and trees are watered, they give off an earthy smell.

I sit down on the curb in front of my dad's parents home. I suddenly see why anyone would want to spend their life here among the nice weather, and beautiful mornings.

After enjoying a couple of cigarettes outside, I decide that I want to take a shower before heading off to go to 'Hyper Coffee' where I will,hopefully, meet Tyler. My cynicism has not been lost in the midst of this dreamy emotional wonderland that is Tyler. I am still a pretty sensible person. I know that there is probably a huge chance of him not showing up. Wether it's because there are a million possibilities of what he could be doing that would make him delay our date, or wether he simply does not want to see me this particular morning, I still hold a small inkling of hope attached to my huge mass of cynicism.

I cautiously enter the house once again, closing the door carefully behind me. I walk barefoot on the plush carpet, and onto the cold blue tile of the bathroom. Unlike the bathrooms on the train, this bathroom as some aesthetic appeal. Nearly everything in the room is a different variation of blue.

Blue is a perfect color for the bathroom. It looks like an amazing place to take a bath. To take a shower and ignore all of this beautiful color would be stupid. So I take off all of my clothes and look at myself in the mirror. I usually avoid mirrors because looking at myself can be a very traumatic experience. I study my face, I am fine with my face. It's normal looking. I have a little acne, but I justify that by thinking that a little acne here and there adds a little character to my face. Then my eyes travel down to my chest. Not amazing. I have a few stretch marks which can depress me on a very bad day, but they aren't too noticeable anymore because they have faded from pink to a dull white. Then my eyes travel to my crotch. I don't have a huge cock, but I don't have a small one either. I'd say I'm around 7 inches hard, which isn't terrible.

I turn around so that I can see my side in the mirror. I like how I look from this angle. I'm not too fat. I am rather chunky though, which a lot of men like. My ass in the mirror looks pert and attractive.

So overall, I am not too bad looking, but at the same time I can still get depressed over my exterior.

I run my hands through my black hair which reaches about an inch or two from my shoulder. I am so proud of my hair. It took forever to get it to grow this long. I used to always get tempted into a barber shop, and get all of my lovely hair cut off, and eventually put in the trash. It's refreshing to have long, manageable hair.

I look away from the mirror and at the light blue tub. I smile and sit in the cold tub.

When I take baths, I don't run the water before going in. I sit in the bath while the water's running. I like feeling the warmth spread around my body, rather then just shocking my body with warmth.

Beginning to drift off, I pretend that I am in a blue ocean. Floating endlessly along the current. Hearing the calm sounds of fish and dolphins swiming around. The sun hitting me in such a perfect way.

I continue daydreaming about the ocean until I feel that there is enough warm water around me. I sigh a deep relieved sigh. I haven't felt this content since I was in 3rd grade. Everything in my life was in order and I was content with my surroundings. However, now I am a cynical and bitter person. Everything tends to eventually bother me. School, people, TV, books, blogs. I can find at least one bad thing about everything. Including Contentness. The problem about being content, is that you feel like nothing can go wrong, and if something does you can drift into depression extreamly fast.


I am dressed and ready to go. I'm wearing a black RENT tee-shirt that I got at the stage performance of it, and black jeans. I have my hair up in a small ponytail, so that my hair doesn't irritate my forehead. I am wearing green socks. Resembling the go sign in a traffic light. I want everything to go smoothly.

Even though at a traffic light, someone might go at the wrong time and mess everything up, crashing into another car. I recognize that and realize that it most likely will happen. But you can always hope,right?


I walk to the nearest bus stop, which is around 3 blocks away, and sit on the bench, trying my best to ignore all of the ads that are on it, spitefully. I light up yet another cigarette and relax, assuming that it would be a while until a bus appeared. If I were to wait at a bus stop in Albuquerque, I would expect to see at least one depressing homeless person, but here, seeing as it is a rich city, there's not one single ragamuffin in sight. Just me...and my cigarette.

I gaze around my surroundings and see a person walking her dog, a pink leash in hand. People say that they would want to be a dog, assuming that a dog's life is very simple. I don't think it is. Think about it, if they want to go anywhere they have to have a rope around their neck so that they can't explore. While it may be physically easy, it would be mentally strenuous, it seems. Especially if you have one of those pet-obsessed crazies as an owner. Owner. What a depressing term. You don't OWN a dog. You are, essentially, the dog's roommate. The dog is a golden retriever. I really dislike golden retrievers. They're extremely troublesome. Horny too. One of my past friends had one, and it would do nothing but hump my leg, but I digress. I still feel sorry for it and want to unleash it so that it can see the world as it is, and fully.

One thing I like about Arcadia is that next to no one uses the bus.

The bus is empty, and I am left alone to contemplate. To contemplate Tyler, and also to contemplate when I should pull the rope next to me to stop the bus. Sighing I vaugley remember Tyler telling me to stop at 8th avenue. So I look at the passing signs, not seeing an 8 or an Ave. So I slowley drift back into my own thoughts.

I wonder if the bus driver ever gets extreamly bored. Well, of course he must, but I also wonder why anyone would choose a job to drive around all day on a big hunk of metal, picking up strangers and making sure they put money in the little machine in the front. Perhaps he genuinely loves his job, or perhaps he genuinely needed money.

I see 7th avenue pass me by so, almost insticntivly, I pull the rope, and a ringing noise errupts from the speakers. I see us pass 8th avenue and eventually slowing down at a stop at 9th avenue. I sigh, relieved. At lest something is going good so far, I might actually make it to Hyper coffee shop. Now the question starts to nag at me: Will he show up?

"Have a good day" The mexican driver tells me pleasantly.

"You too!" I say in as cheery a voice as possible.

He almost looks suprised at this gesture, almost as if nobody has ever said this to him.

"Hey, thanks"

"No problem"

I smile while stepping off of the bus, feeling good that maybe...Just maybe I made this guys day just by showing a little respect.

I don't respect many things, but I have the uttmost respect for bus drivers.


Hyper Coffee is an interesting place. It seems original because, simply, it's not a fucking starbucks, but really, it's exactly like starbucks in very many ways. People playing chess, people confessing their so called love, and people on their computers,typing away.

At this moment, I begin to realize, my stomach lurching, that I forgot to bring money. Fuck, what if he assumed i'd pay for it? You can have a date at a coffee shop without buying anything, right? Right?

I'm fucked.

So I hopelessly stare around absorbing the surroundings. The wall is painted a cliche coffee shop color, a rustic-looking tan, along with Black trim and decorations. While looking around, I notice that on the menu the coffees are named: Small, Medium, and large. I like this, so for a brief moment I smile, before hearing the door crack open. Fuck, is it Tyler?

I turn my head over my shoulder, and to my suprise, it's not Tyler, but a man in a grey trench coat. He walks up to the counter and orders something along the lines of: a "Carmel-Frapp-Iced-latte with room for cream on the top". I guess all coffee shops cannot avoid naming their drinks according to the universal guide of coffee shops named: "Extravagant Coffee names: A history". I would not be suprised if it actually existed. There's probably some twat out there who decided to devote his life to the history of coffee, inspired by starbucks. I can just imagine the pretentious dick typing away on his computer early in the morning, a starbucks cup at his side, on a pretentious table located on the Starbucks outside porch.

Minutes pass, and the door has not creaked open again. Tyler is not here, and this is quite unnerving. A familier feeling nags at my brain. Oh dear, it's the nicotine receptors again. They are holding my body hostage until I go outside to have another smoke. I sigh, and get up, leaving the shop to stand in the cool air.

Lighting a cigarette, I sit myself down against the curb, my feet sitting on the edge of the black granite. I blow a few puffs out of my lungs and look around for a sign of the person I came here for. Nobody. I take in another tar-filled hit, and decide that he's not going to come after all. I can imagine him sitting on his mothers couch laughing while telling a hilarious story that he got me to wait at a coffee shop that he was supposed to be at, but isn't going to show up at all. I can also see his mother cracking up commenting about how the gays are so gullible these days.

I sigh once again, smoke rising out of my mouth. This sucks. Most people would probably tell me to 'Look at the bright side of this!' BUT I REFUSE. There IS no bright side to life, just a shaded side which sometimes gets a little bit brighter, only to dim back down again.

"Gotta light?" a voice whispers from behind. I look up and am pleased to see Tyler's handsome face winking at me. I smile brightly, standing up to embrace him.

"I thought you were standing me up!" I exclaim in astonishment, pulling out the purple lighter that he gave me on the train. I light a flame and lift it to the cigarette in his mouth, letting him suck in some tar.

"Why would I do that." He smirks, "Ya gotta trust me a little more. I'm not as bad as you think."

"Ha. Trust. A big issue of mine."

"I know...So you wanna get some caffene?" His smirk turns into a suave smile, his brown eyes glistening.

"Sure." I put out my cigarette and wait for him to finish a couple hits before throwing the burning cigg onto the ground.

I quickly stomp it out, "Only you can prevent forest fires!"

He chuckles, gesturing for me to go into the shop with him. This is unfathomable! Unprecidented! My first date!

My first REAL date with the same sex! This is so exciting, I can just feel endorphins starting to release into my brain.

Tyler sweetly holds the door for him, making me feel ridiculous, but giddy at the same time. I decide to humor him, and walk through the opened door.

He enters, the door slamming behind him. I here him sniff the air.

"I love this place. They have the best coffee in the world."

I just smile, starting to take it all in. I feel like one of those retarded couples I make fun of mentally at the mall. It's both revolting, and arousing at the same time. Suddenly I feel my stomach lurch, I have no money remember? Fuckity fuck fuck shit.

"I'm buying, I asked you to come here, so I think I should pay" He says, almost like he was reading my mind.

"Okay..Sure!" I say, shamelessly. If free shit is offered, I'll gladly take it.

Tyler then orders two medium coffees.

"How do ya take it?" He asks. This is interpreted in my mind as amazingly sexy. How do you take it? Big...and long. But a socially acceptable response is required of me so I shake these dirty thoughts out of my head.

"Just black." I sputter.

So he orders two medium coffees, black. The counter-man nods and proceds with his job of making the coffee and charging Tyler.

Tyler tells me to find a seat so, of course, I comply. I pick a seat at the back of the shop, in the corner. I like it. It's dark and calm. However calm it may be, it defiantly will not calm my nerves, caffeine might though. So I await Tyler's return with anticipation, excitement, and just a little bit of nausea.

Everything seems to slow down as he approaches me, one coffee in each hand. I instictivley rest my hands at my lap and watch as Tyler inches nearer and nearer to the wooden table. He puts a coffee infront of him and sits down opposite of me. My eyes drift to his pink lips. They're so masculine, the kind of lips I dream about kissing. The kind of lips that seem to be a unique feature of his. Slowly, I see his lips part, and start to hear sounds comming out of them.

Time shifts back to normal, "Why do'ya want to sit so far from the windows?" He smirks, amused.

I am stunned in my chair. My voice box seems to be delaying my words, but I feel my vocal cords begining to vibrate them out, like a computer. "Call me strange, but I love corners."

He chuckles once again. A chuckle that also seems to be a unique trait of Tyler. He lifts the brown cardboard cup to his lips and takes a small sip of the dark, dark brown coffee; His adams apple bobbing up and down as he swollows it. So, I do the same, taking a bigger sip than his. A much bigger sip. It's more like a gulp actually. Three gulps to be exact. The bitter and hot liquid travels along my tounge and down my throat. It burned a little, but not enough to make me want to stop.


After gulping my coffee, I gulp some air so that I can speak.

"A little."

His smile suddnley warms up a little. It changed from a normal smile, to a endearing one. I try to smile back with an equal amount of warmth, but feel that it is more of a queezy smile than a warm one.

"You're a very cute guy, you know that?"

This nearly makes my insides jump out of my body, I feel my face heat up a little.

"And why is that?" I answer

"You just are."

I don't believe him, but I continue to attempt to flirt.

"If you think I'm cute now, just wait till you see me late at night." I wink.

An epiphany strikes my brain. I'm becoming one of the flirting couples at starbucks! Or, more specifically, Hyper coffee. I am a Giddy Hypocrite. A giddy hypocrite with a major crush.


The date went fine. We exchanged enticing flirts, and smoked a few cigarettes; Tyler was right, Hyper coffee serves some of the best caffeine in the universe.

I took the bus back home, and walked back to my grandparents house in which I am currently sitting on a red italian-leather sofa. My grandma is so proud of this couch. Once I came out of the bath, wet and sat on it, leaving a small black stain. As you probably speculated she was furious, so out of habit, I always sit on the black spot of the couch so I can block it from view. It is 4:00 in the evening and everyone else is out for dinner with some family friends. I decided to stay home to avoid the awkward situation of having to socialize with old people.

I am staring at the purple Bic lighter that Tyler gave to me. I basked in the pleasure of knowing that he gave that item to me. It's almost like it has some sort of energy that makes my flame light; both figuratively and literally.

I flick the bic, and watch the orange flame flicker and shine on my face. The heat from the lighter is quite pleasant. I sigh, and the breath that is released from my lungs causes the fire to blow out. I lift my gaze to view my surroundings. I am in the living room. The carpet is the same as in the guest room, a generic pink-color. The walls match, they are a lacy pink. There is a china cubboard to my right, and a TV in front of me. To my left is a sliding-glass door which leads to their backyard. There is a lace-white curtain draping over it. Through the little holes in the lace I can see specks of green and blue. The green is reflecting off of lush trees and the blue is coming from the pool that my grandpa made in the back yard.

An idea comes to mind. I haven't swam in that pool since I was five. Ever since, I never cared for swimming, mostly because I hate swimming suits. But I am alone. I don't have to wear a swimming suit do I? Can't I just swim in my birthday suit? I think I can.

So I get up and head out through the glass door. My grandparents aren't supposed to get home until around 11 at night. It is only 5:00 now. It is starting to get dark, and the sun looks spectacular, like always. I hate the sun during the day, but when it's going down, I almost want to worship it. If there is one living diety in the universe, it is defnatly the sun. It provides us food and warmth. Everything we need, and it wont send us to hell if we don't believe in it...You just might get sunburnt instead.


Time seems to suspend underwater. My head is dunked below the top of the pool. My eyes are open, gazing at the watery blurriness of Chlorine water. I blow a few bubbles and watch them float to the top. Soon I feel that I need oxygen, so I reluctantly swish my feet back and forth so that I can get back into fresh air. It's dark, but there's light coming from the full moon up above. At first, I was paranoid of the darkness, I imagined some random person finding me and killing me in the pool. For no particular reason mind you, however, I digress. Now it is just comfortable and soothing.

I swash over to the shallow end of the pool feeling the water rush past my naked body. Once I make it to the other side of the pool, I reach out onto the concrete for my cell phone, opening it up.

It's 9:45. I still have a few more hours. I should have thought about doing this before, it's amazingly liberating.

I flip my hair back, tucking it behind my ear, looking around at the darkness, sitting down on the bottom of the pool.

A sound.

A disturbing sound, actually. The sound of footsteps. Fuck! Are they home! Oh god how fucking humiliating. Then, a voice...


Tyler? Jesus fucking christ! I told him where I was staying! But, fuck, why is he coming over so soon! Isn't there some rule about this! Well if there isn't, there should be!

I impulsively dunk my head under the water so that I can seem as inconspicuous as humanly possible. I then logically deduct that this wasn't so smart, I'm going to need to breath sometime. Fuck, I wish we hadn't evolved out of the water yet, then maybe I would have a way out of this sticky situation.

I see bubbles in the distance. What the fuck? Oh christ no. A blurry outline appears. I need air so I reluctantly lift my head above the water.

Tyler jumped into the pool, fully clothed. Me...not so much, so at a last attempt to save my dignity, I cover up my dick with my hands.

"TYLER!" I whisper harshly.

He chuckles under his breath, wiping water away from his eyes.

"Jesus! You cunt!" I blurt out, blushing, "What the FUCK are you doing here!"

"So I guess your glad to see me?" he smirks.

I look at the water. How fucking horrible, this officially tops the list of the most horrible things to happen in my life. This summer just keeps getting stranger and stranger.

I sigh.

"Hi..Tyler..." I mutter resentfully.

He chuckles. "Nice ass."

I gasp, leaning against the edge of the pool to cover up my behind.

He swims closer and closer. "I thought I'd drop by, I forgot something when you went back home today."

"And what would that--"

He leaned in, planting a short but lovely kiss on my lips. This makes me smile against my will, and I feel a creep over to my shoulder.

"You made my day, Elliah. I just thought you should know that..." He looked down for a couple seconds, then back up gazing into my eyes, "I...I think I like you.." He manages.

I understand that this must be all too weird for him, seeing as he thought he liked girls for so long, and suddenly (Supposedly) becoming attracted to a guy. I can't even begin to absorb all of the bliss that I am experiencing. I almost feel light headed. What do I say? This is such a sweet gesture, and it can't go unnoticed, but at the same time it can't be over exaggerated, because then it becomes too cheesy. I am failing to find a logical response, so for one of the few times in my life I respond with the truth.

"Tyler...I've had a crush on you for...A very long time..Uh-I...I...Oh jesus, I like you too Tyler."

Completely disregarding my nakedness, he pulls me into a warm embrace. I feel his wet clothes press up against my body, and it's nice. I once again feel like I'm at home. A feeling I hope to get used to.


After a while of swimming around together, I fall down from my pink cloud.

"Shit,Tyler, you need to go back home! My grandparents are getting back soon."

"I can't go home in wet clothes" he points at his drenched clothes which are now sitting in a pile on the concrete outside the pool.

"Fuck..." I sigh,"come with me, you can borrow my PJ's then."

I step out of the pool, glad that it's dark so that Tyler can't see too much of my bare body. Regardless, he slaps my ass, chuckling.

I turn around, blushing. "Do you want to borrow my pajamas or not!" I whisper coldly.

He smirks and continues to chuckle. "Fine, fine you prude!"

"I am NOT a prude, you cunt!"

"Well, I'm not a cunt, am I?"

I sigh.



I hand Tyler my pink flannel PJs, preparing for the teasing that I know is going to follow.

"Pink? What the fuck!" He starts laughing.

"Shut up! I'm not the one who's going to have to take the bus home in them! Now, get your cute little ass into those Pj's and go home before they get here!" I say, playfully pinching his butt. I hand him a black tee-shirt. He continues laughing, slipping on the clothes I gave him.

"Bye, gorgeous" He kisses my cheek, and waves at me, walking out of my room.

Only when I hear the front door slam do I begin to relax.

I plop my body onto my bed and let out a huge sigh.

I hear an ominous vibrating sound coming from the floor. My phone.

I get back up, off of the bed and flip the cell phone open.

"Yeah?" I answer, exasperated.


It's Beth!

"You remembered my number!"

"Yeah, cunt!"

"So, whats new?"

"Oh yeah...I called because..Um...Emmett and I are back together"

Fuck. Emmett. The guy who makes it nearly impossible to contact Beth. When they're together, I'm lucky to talk to her once a week.

"I don't believe you."


"Because you're actually talking to me on the phone!"

She laughs.

"I know...It'll be diffrent I promise!"

Yeah, right.

"Okay. Sure."

"It will!"


"So, how about you...Any californian hunks talkin' to ya?"

"Yeah actually"


"Really? Who?"

"You're not going to like it."

"Oh, whatever, who?"


"Bitch! Tell me!"

"Fine, its Tyler!"

Another pause...This time a bit longer.

"How?" is her inital response.

I start telling her about my misadventures on the train. About the vodka, the bathroom, and the lighter.

"So your telling me that you're happy over a fuckin' lighter?"


She laughs.

"Fuck you! It was really sweet! What has Emmett given you besides his lips?"

She stops laughing abruptly.

"You're such a cunt! Poopyface!"

Beth and I are one of the few teenagers left on the planet who use little kid cuss words in a serious context. Usually Poopface is more insulting than any adult explicative in the world.

"Yeah, sorry, I guess that wasn't a very..Pleasant thing to say."

"No it wasn't!"


Since our last little get-together in the pool, my relationship with Tyler was mostly over the phone simply because he has been busy doing something that he refuses to talk to me about. Of course my curiosity has grown over the past few weeks about what the hell he was keeping from me?

Beth and I talked rarely recently, as expected, but that's fine because there's a library a couple blocks away. It's now the first of july, and I am currently typing away at the keyboard infront of me. Of course the computers at the library are Microsoft PC's. Which took me a little while to get used to, but over the past few days of coming to the library, I have grown slightly accustomed to the feel of the black keyboard, and a mouse with two buttons.

I'm chatting with this guy over a yahoo chat room. He claims to live in Alaska. We've been in correspondence with each other for around a week. His name's Bryn, and he's straight. I actually get along with him pretty well. We both have the same sense of humor: Cruel and Sarcastic. We both idolize George Carlin, and love making fun of people. This is the beginning of a beautiful virtual friendship.

I am talking to him about my boyfriend. Wow, it's weird calling him my boyfriend. I doesn't seem real. I rant about how we haven't seen each other in weeks, and how he won't tell me what's keeping him so busy.

I find that Bryn is a perfect person to vent on. He's thousands of miles away, so it can't hurt him much. I would be ranting to Beth, if her line wasn't always busy, but I digress.

He informs me that he has to go, but that he would be online tomorrow.

I sigh and reluctantly type a short goodbye.

Now what?

I guess I could check my voicemail. So I do.

The familier generic robotic voice tells me politely that I have 4 new voicemail.

The first ones from my grandma, asking when I'll be home. I delete it and move on to the next one. It's from Tyler!

"Elliah," the recording of Tyler says, "I finished with what I have been doing. I was kind of wondering if you'd like to meet at the coffee shop sometime this afternoon? Call me."

I mentally yell out a loud "YAY!"

I move on to the next message. Its blank. So I move to the last one.

It's my lucky day! Beth left a message.

"Call me.." She sounds like she's about to cry. I feel my stomach lurch. What's wrong?

I get up off of the computer chair and head out of the library to respect the no cell phone rule.

I press speed-dial number one: Beth.

I get through.


"Beth...what's wrong."

"Emmett...He...He's in the hospital."


"He didn't tell me, but he has heart problems. He had some sort of heart attack."

"Oh, Beth. I'm so fucking sorry!"

"It's not your fault" She sniffles a little.

"I know..but...shit...Beth, this is so unexpected."

"Yeah...I'm leaving for the hospital in a few minutes."

It's times like these that I wish I was an optimistic person, so that I could cheer up my best friend.

"Hang in there..."

That's the best I can do? What the fuck is wrong with me? I can't fucking cheer up my friend if my life depended on it!

"Yeah...Thanks for calling...I'm going to leave now...Bye"

"I love you Beth."

"I love you too..."


I stare at my cell phone in disbelief. Feelings of guiltiness begin pulsing through my brain. I feel horrible for hating the relationship between them. I should have just gotten over myself and realized that perhaps what they had might have really been love. I was cynical and bitter. I thought that they were just hopelessly giddy. But now I can begin to empathize. If something as terrible as this had happened to Tyler, I would be heartbroken.

Love suddenly doesn't seem to be so impossible. I seems that it is necessary. Without love, I wouldn't have a friend to talk when I am lonely. Without love I would never again get to experience the happiness that I feel around Tyler. Without love, my feelings would seem to be a grain of dust floating in an ever expanding universe, searching for comfort. I s

I feel a warm tear begin to drip down from my eye. I don't know what's coming over me, but I know that I must accept it. I must accept and validate my feelings. I quickly pull my cigarettes out from my pocket and pull one out, lighting it with Tyler's lighter. I breath in the smoke, and exhale, trying not to have a complete breakdown.

I begin to walk.

I walk to the sidewalk and stop close to the curb, where a bus stop lies. I Pull out my cell phone and Dial up Tyler, I feel like I need to spend a lot more time with him, because even the smallest love that I have for him could be taken away from me at anytime, never to return again.


I pick the same table at the shop as last time, in the corner. Though, today I am the only one in the shop, so I ponder. I ponder about love and Emmett. I ponder about what Beth must be going through right now. If life were a musical, I would definitely be singing a touching song. However, this is just earth. On earth, people don't sing away their problems, they try to deal with them, or they kill themselves. If I believed in a god, I would definitely be praying to it right now, but there is no god. Just me. So I just have to believe in me.

I sigh and get up, walking over to the cash register and order a medium coffee. The clerk nods and gets to work making my coffee. Once the cup is filled with the bitter, brown substance, she begins putting a cap on it, but I stop her by politely informing her that don't need one. She nods again and hands me my caffeine. I thank her, and go back to the corner where I sit.

I look up at the clock, and speculate that Tyler should arrive soon. So I instinctively begin primping, picking dust off of my shirt, and adjusting my hair and pose. I decide to cross my right leg over my right, it seems casual enough so I don't look uptight, but formal enough to look like you care.

The door opens, and in comes my boyfriend. I smile at him, waving him over happily.

"Jesus, Tyler i've missed you so much!"

I stand up and he pulls me into an embrace. "Are you going to at least tell me what's been keeping you busy?"

He shakes his head, looking down to his toes. Tyler's a couple inches taller than me, and he is wearing a shirt with the word "NAVY" on it. I nearly forgot all about his army ambitions until this moment. Has he been registering for the navy? I don't think you can do that until your eighteen right? So I shake this thought out of my mind, and tuck it into the back of my mind so that I can ponder it later.

"You look amazing" He tells me.

Of course, I am very flattered by this because today has been a very unattractive day for me. My hair is a little messier than usual, and my clothes are decent, just not amazing like he tells me. Perhaps he sees something that I don't see.

"Thank you, stud." I respond.

Over the past weeks, I have taken to nicknaming him stud over the phone. He seems to like it, and I think its quite a sexy nickname. Stud has its own masculine charm. The word itself just makes me wanna rip off his shirt and fuck him right on the table at the coffee shop. But I don't, because unfortunately there are social standards and laws against that.

"Finish your coffee, I want to show you something." He says, smirking slightly. What is he up to?

I eagerly nod my head and gulp down the rest of my caffeine. "And what would that be?"

"It's a suprise"

I guess I should have expected that.

I feel a smile creep across my face as Tyler grabs ahold of my hand. He leads me out of the shop, and down the side walk where we stroll. Further and further we walk, until we turn into a community of houses. A couple of houses down from us, there is this hopeless ugly house. It is sort of an olive green a long with yellow, pink and orange.

"That house looks like vomit" I chuckle, pointing at the aesthetically challenged house.

"That's my house you ass!" He giggles.

"Oh dear.." I laugh along nervously, "Well...its..unique!" I add, "Very unique! I've never seen anything like it."

Tyler scoffs sarcasticly, and we walk up to his mom's ugly house.

"Perhaps she's color blind" I mentally ponder.

He opens the front door, which is bright orange, and walk in. Strangely, the interior decorating is not as bad as the exterior. The walls are a light pink, and the carpet is red.

"It's like valentines day!" I comment cheerily. Tyler nods, "It's her favorite holiday."

I hate valintines day to be quite frank. I love the colors though! It's the only holiday that has colors that I find pleasing.

Tyler begins making clicking noises with his tongue, like he's calling something over. A black and puffy cat walks into sight, rubbing against Tyler's leg.

It's adorable, to say the least. It's eyes are green, and it really likes meowing. Normally when I come across a cat, it meows maybe once or twice while I pet it. This cat meows every time you touch it in a way that it likes.

"What's its name?" I ask, picking up the little fluff off of the ground, laying it in my arms.

"Tobacco" he answers, smiling.

"Tobacco?" I laugh "Why?"

"Well, when my mom first found him, she picked him up in her arms while smoking a cigarette. This cat is fascinated with them. He loves to sniff second hand smoke."

"Wow, a cat addicted to nicotine! That's amazing."

He nods and puts a hand on my shoulder. "I want you to keep him."


"My mom needs to give him to someone who can take care of him. She's allergic to them."

"Oh.." I look down at Tobacco's face and begin to ponder all of the responsibilities I would have to take on. Well, cats are mostly independent, but I will need to buy food, and cat toys. Maybe I can dress him up in cute clothes! I've always wanted to play dress up with an animal. Besides, I really need something to take care of besides myself.

"Thank you so much." I drop the cat gently to the floor, and pull Tyler into a kiss. My arms are wrapped around his neck, my lips on his. I feel something wet and slightly rough intrude into my mouth. Its his tongue. At first, I'm suprised by this new feeling, but after kissing a little more I begin to find it very pleasurable. Our tongues touch, and I shudder a little. I lift my tongue up slightly, tickling the bottom of his tongue, feeling him smile into the kiss.

He leans forward, towards me, gently pushing me onto the carpet, his hands freely exploring from my hips, and up to my neck. My eyes are closed, focusing on the pleasure of the moment. I let my hands roam across his chest, feeling a nipple. Once my hand passes over it, I feel it begin to harden very slightly. We pull away for a brief second for a breath, before going at it again.

I begin to feel that feeling again. The one that I felt on the train, and in the pool. I feel safe, and loved. I feel in love.


The bus's door opened infront of me, the bus driver appearing directly above me. I step onto the bus and take a seat near the back and observe. Today, I am not the only one on the bus besides the bus driver. There is an asian woman and a mexican man. The woman is wearing pink stilletos, and she's obviously stressed because she is taping her shoes to a strict, melodic rhythm. The sound of her shoes fills the bus, and I close my eyes, letting the sound drift over me, so that I can try and forget about Emmett, about Beth, about Tyler, and in fact, I begin to forget about the world.

I start visualizing a musical. The cast is full of eccentric people, both men and women. All of them are wearing diffrent colored stilletos. The women are wearing fishnet stockings, black panties and a matching bra and top hat. The men are also wearing fishnet stockings and panties, but are instead wearing a black bow tie around their neck. A woman with orange hair appears on the side of the stage, a piano in front of her. The stage erupts in music, and the cast begins dancing. The men doing a can-can and the men doing a sort of jazz square. The piano music and dancing are all adhering to a strict rhythm, and the cast are all dancing in a synchronized fashion. Lights flash, and the music gets deeper and deeper, the rhythm growing slower and slower until finally the music stops.

The men begin falling one by one each person making a short thump. The women follow soon after, falling one by one just like the men, the lady with the orange hair gasps as the lights flicker into an ominous blackout. A voice echos from the stage:

"You're at the end of the line."

What? The end of the line?

Then it hits me, l open my eyes to see a bus driver shaking me slightly.

"You''re at the end of the line, bud."


"We're at the bus depot, you need to get out ."

"Where is the bus depot?"

"You're in Pasadena."

"Pasa what?"

"It's a couple cities away from Arcadia."

" do I get back to Arcadia?"

"Well. It's 8 at night so you might have trouble finding a bus, but If I where you i'd walk. You can follow the side walk to your left and eventually you'll end up in Arcadia."

"Shit." I quickly get up and hustle to the front of the bus where I exit. I can hear the bus driver say something behind me, but I ignore it. I'm in deep shit.

I walk out of the bus depot and look around at the dark city. There are mexicans lined up in front of a taco stand across the street. I look to my left and determine that I have no choice but to trust what the bus driver told me. I start walking, one foot in front of the other.

I am the perfect candidate for a mugging. An ignorant white kid with a cell phone, ipod, and ten bucks. As I walk down the side walk, I see no bus stop, but I do see a 99 cent store and a radio shack. Unless I need cheap groceries or batteries I'm screwed.

A couple minutes soon turn into a couple of hours, and I start to feel anxiety build up in the pit of my stomach. I am convinced that I will be mugged, raped, murdered and eaten by the end of this night. I pull out a cigarette from my pocket, light it and start puffing on it mercilessly.

A sound erupts from an ally, and I shriek in horror, running as fast as my smokers lungs will allow me. I run past the home depot, past the walmart and blockbuster, I run and I run. I run for a few minutes until my chain-smoker physique wears out on me. I begin panting as if I had never taken a breath in my life, like a new born baby. My heart is pounding 3 times a second it seems, and I feel like it's going to pump right out of my chest. I stumble around, not sure what I should do. I realize that I dropped my cigarette a while back, so I pull another one out, lighting it so that the tar can calm down my breathing.

Somehow this works, and as I calm down, my sight becomes slightly clearer. I see a sign in the distance, but it is dark so I stand up and walk up closer to it so that I can read what it says. It is big and official and green.

I breath a huge breath of relief.

It says "Welcome to Arcadia"

I smile to myself and begin on the rest of the journey back to my grandparents house. I don't feel like I am going to get mugged anymore, so I put my ipod's earphones into my ears, turning it on and setting it on shuffle. Almost as if it knew what I just went through, madonna begins singing "I made it through the wilderness, you know I made it through, never new how lost I was until I found you."

I start laughing, laughing out all of my anxiety and stress, laughing at todays fucked up events, and laughing about how there is nothing I can do about it.

I walk past cracks in the sidewalk and an idea comes to mind.

"Step on a crack and you'll break your mothers back" I sing to myself, dancing on every single crack that I can step on. Once I finish my cigarette, I put it out on one of the cracks so that perhaps my mom will not only break her back, but also have a strange cigarette burn on it as well.

This thought is very pleasant right now, very pleasant indeed.

I made it through the wilderness.


After around a half an hour and 6 cigarettes later I finally found my grandparents house. It was like finding an oasis in the middle of the sahara desert. Except the oasis had minibars, television, and lots of food. I am now currently laying on the red italian-leather sofa once again. I was so engrossed in feeling lost that I nearly forgot to be tired. Now I feel tiredness knocking me down at full force and my body feels somewhat like its made of lead, lard, tar and molasses. A strange combination, however if your body felt like this you wouldn't be worried about strange, you'd be too busy falling into a painful rest.

It turns out that the ancient ones left for their billionth anniversary. My grandma had left a note on the fridge, how'd she know that would be the first place I went when I got back? This was very relieving because that means that I can tell them that I got home at around 9:00 when in fact I got back at 11. I lie about the most pointless things. Once I had lied to Beth about flavored water.

We were on the phone and I informed her that I was going to drink a vitamin water that my dad bought.

"Haha, rich kid water!" she had said.

For some reason I resented that, for I hate most stereotypical rich kids. The vitamin water was only a dollar but for some reason this made me feel very embarassed and ashamed of it, so before I even thought about it I replied.

"No, actually its that generic kind you can buy at costco"

I might be a compulsive liar, but whatever. I ended up confessing this later on while extremely drunk and crying on Beth's breasts. I confessed everything I had ever lied to her about, and for some reason it was very emotional. I got snot on her jacket but she was more concerned about my drunken hysterical sadness. This is one of the sweetest things that anyone had ever let me do in my life, snot on their jacket without getting pissed at me. Ever since I have never lied to her about anything at all.

This train of thought led me to Emmett, and that led me to feeling motivated to get up off of my ass. If Beth can deal with my snot, then I can deal with my exhaustion. I stretch my feet onto the ground, my legs and feet cracking as I do so. I feel very old. Perhaps being old is contagious in an old people house. I think it is!

I decide that I am going to stick to that theory while I journey to the kitchen where I sit on the dining room table, pulling out my cell phone, and speed dial Beth. I count the ring tones as I hear them.


"Hello?" A voice croaked.

"Did I wake ya up?"

A moan.

"Yeah, but I want to talk so..."

"How's Emmett doing?"

"Actually, he got an operation before I visited him, the doctor said he'd be okay."

"Good, I've been very worried about you"

"It's Emmett you should be worried about"

"You were in a breakdown last time I called. Are you sure your okay?"

"Yeah poopface!"

The conversation became more normal at this point. Our conversations always consist of a lot of bitching about humanity. We talk about how everything is pointless and how cruel the world can be. Sometimes we talk about hating patriotism. Why the fuck should you have to be proud of the place you were born? I prefer objectively observing the different countries and came to the conclusion that Canada would be the best place to live. So the little patriotism that I have goes to Canada I must say. I have a canadian flag in my room, and sometimes I will buy something just because it was made in Canada. Back in New Mexico I even smoke Canadian cigarettes, Senicas.

Our conversation lasted for around two hours before my phone died. Usually we just talk until a phone dies, then we continue on with our lives, charging our phones in the meantime that is.

My body forgot about its lead/lard/tar/molasses condition while I was on the phone, but it all just morphed back into my body. I practically crawl to my room and fall onto my bed, falling asleep with my clothes on, and the lights on and my phone uncharged.

Sleep feels the best when you need it the most, so apparently I really needed sleep. Despite my sleep-needyness I somehow just managed to open my eyes. According to the red LED light on the clock, it is 6:02 in the morning. What the fuck? How did I wake up so early? I ponder this while getting myself up off of the bed, slipping on my purple slippers. I am still in my clothes that I wore yesterday, but I don't care as I fish around my pockets for my cigarettes. I pull out the box of camel 99's and open it up.


No cigarettes are left. I must have smoked them all in yesterday's stressful flurry. I realize that I now am going to have to journey over to the gas station to have my morning cigarette. Its only a few blocks away, but after walking so much yesterday, a couple of blocks seems equivalent to running the New York Marathon. Not to mention I am going to have to get the store clerk to let me buy some. Hopefully the clerk is a smoker because they are usually sympathetic to underage smokers.

I reluctantly open the front door of the house and step outside, the chill air shocking my warm skin, making me shudder. The more I walk, the more my body becomes accustomed to the damp and cold air. I gaze around, noting the leaves dotted with dew, and the smell of the wet soil. I look over to my left and see the same woman that I saw the other day with the pink leash and the golden retriever.

I notice that this is the same woman that was on the bus yesterday! This is the sole woman responcable for yesterdays terror. As I watch her walk her stupid dog, I begin to loath her, resenting every little thing she did. Her walk is very stupid and makes her look much like a giraffe. She obviously is obsessed with the color pink due to the fact she is wearing a pink jumpsuit and walking her dog with a pink leash. Not to mention her pink stilettos which was the cause of my sleep.

I gaze into the back of her head, willing cancer cells to intrude into her skull, hopefully causing a tumor. If she were to drop dead right now, I would let her dog go, then continue on to the gas station. However, this unfotunatly does not happen, so I continue forward, feeling like my imaginary cancer cells where enough payback.

I keep on walking for a minute or so before finally reaching the Shell gas station. I walk past the gas tanks and sniff the air. I love the smell of gas stations. I would be willing to have a gas station scented air freshener for my room if they made them. After admiring the beautiful smell, I open the glass door, a bell announcing my presence. I step over to the counter and look at the store clerk with a straight face.

"I'd like a pack of Camel 99's please."

She looks at me, much like the woman in the train.

"Gotta I.D"


She looks at me again with a strange face.

"But I have the money, so it would be great if I could buy them"

"No." She says simpley.

"Fine," I pull out a ten dollar bill from my pocket "If I can buy them, you can keep the change for yourself."

She swiftly snatched the bill from my hand, and I smile.

"Thanks for understanding" I wink.

After reluctantly handing me the cigarettes, I nod and she politely waves me off.

I say a mental "YAY!"

I can have my morning cigarette at last!