I picked a pretty random day to post the first part of my blog-story… let’s just say it didn’t translate into as many views as I was expecting. I wish I could tell you that views didn’t matter to me, but they do, otherwise I wouldn’t post content on the internet at all; I’m trying to gather a readership here! I do realize that by this time you have probably already made up your mind on whether or not you’re going to continually click these links, and that’s cool. I can’t force you to read anything… it would just improve your life a little if I could. I digress. 

Anyways, I came up with the ever-so-clever-yet-so-unoriginal alliteration of Story Sunday. This will be my permanent fiction-posting night. Sunday night also seems to be the time when people are most active on social media, so I’m hoping that this timeframe will translate into more of a response. Oh, and for those of you that do regularly read, I love you. We’re friends even if we’ve never met before. And to my real-life friends that read: You guys are awesome. Thanks for supporting me. Much love.

FAMILY/EASILY OFFENDED: Same thing applies here as last time. There are some swear words (maybe even everyone’s favorite with the letter F) so don’t read if you plan on chastising me. It won’t make any difference.

Alright so now that I’m done rambling about crap you guys don’t care about, it’s time to get down to what you came here for. I hope ya like it.

 

Untitled Pt 2

Beech Street was very quiet that night; usually there were little kids playing in their yards, making noise, and all together just pissing me off. That’s something I forgot to mention about me; I hate kids. Not just the loud and obnoxious ones, either. Even the well behaved ones. They just annoy the hell outta me. As far as I’m concerned, kids should be locked up until they’re at least thirteen.

Anyways, I was walking past the school playground and about to turn the corner and head into my apartment when my phone rang. I looked at and saw that Sam was calling. I was a little unsure of what had happened; I figured he and Melanie would be railing by then. I answered.

“Yeah,” I said. For future reference, answering the phone with “yeah” makes you sound badass.

“Dude, get over here quick, I gotta tell you something. The weirdest thing just happened.” Sam sounded out of breath.

“What is it? How can it possibly be more important than getting your world rocked by that babe you left the bar with? I knew it, I knew you were gay!” When Sam didn’t laugh I knew something was wrong. Sam always laughed at my dumb jokes.

“Seriously dude, just get out here. I’m freaked out and I don’t know what to do.”

I said I would and hung up the phone. At first I started lazily walking to Sam’s house, then I remembered how freaked he was, so I called a cab. After about five minutes of waiting, one finally came.

The driver’s name was Rasheed. He was of Arabian decent, and had one of those beards that made you scared to be around him. That’s another thing about me; I have several prejudices that I’ve developed over my twenty-two years, and being scared of Arabs is one of them. My dad died on 9/11 after all. Rasheed was pretty cool though, at first.

I’m not normally one to talk to cab drivers, but evidently this guy liked to talk to every one of his passengers. Once I was safely in the cab, I told him Sam’s address.

He turned around and said, “All right, 221 Lincoln Street it is. My fares are listed on the backs of the seats. Wait, you know what? Just forget about ‘em. I live real close to that place anyway, so I’ll just drop you off.”

You’d think that after the day I’d just had, I woulda stepped right out of that cab and called another. Not me, though, no sir. You see, I’m one lazy SOB, so the act of calling another cab was just ludicrous. I remained seated right where I was and began to relax.

A little ways down the road, Ol’ Rasheed decided that he had something intelligent to say. “I don’t know if you knew this or not, but all the houses along this stretch of town were built in the late 1800s by the same guy. That’s why they all look so god damn different from the others. I like it though, makes the neighborhood seem classier.”

I didn’t say a word; why the hell should I care about the architectural history of houses I’d never set a foot in? Well, according to Rasheed I should’ve because that bastard took offense to my silence.

He turned around and asked again if I knew what he was talking about. I grunted that time, hoping my suggested disinterest would give the guy a hint. It didn’t. He asked once more, but before he was done, I jumped outta the cab and ran the other direction.

As if my day wasn’t bad enough already, right? The cabbie’s eyes changed as he repeated his question that last time. It wasn’t a subtle change either, the whole damn iris turned. One minute, his soft, green eyes were looking at me with an inquisitive smirk, and the next I was being stared at by blood red devil ones. As I already told you, I was outta there faster than a fat kid runs when he hears the dinner bell.

Once I was a safe distance away, I did the only thing I could think to do. I walked to a well-lit area where I was sure nothing odd was going to happen. And even if it did, I was sure the good-natured folks of my town would quickly come to my aid. I was freaked the hell out.

I waited there for twenty or so minutes, when my phone rang again. It was Sam.

“Are you coming or not? I thought I could count on you since, well, you know, we’ve been best friends since the 5^th grade! It’s no big deal though, really. I’ll just sit here, by myself, waiting for that god-awful thing to come back. You just go on doing what you’re doing–”

“SAM, SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I shouted. “I’m on my way, but I ran into a problem. I should be there soon, just do me a favor and have that tampon removed from your vagina before I arrive! I gotta walk the rest of the way home, get in my car, and drive to your place, all while hoping Rasheed the demon cabbie doesn’t follow me and try to eat my brains! You’re not the only one who matters, you know. You’re lucky I’m still coming in the first place, asshole.”

“Demon cabbie?” he asked.

“I’ll explain later. Be there in ten.”

As I hung up the phone, I walked to a neighbor’s house and bummed a ride home. I’d known the guy forever, so he was really cool about it. Once we arrived, I stepped out, thanked him, and walked inside.

The first thing I did was get something to eat. I hadn’t had anything to eat since I left the bar, so I figured my needs took precedence over Sam’s. I’m a great friend, aren’t I?

I walked into my kitchen and fixed Ramen Noodles. I know, they’re supposed to be for poor college kids, but I love ‘em. I could eat those things for every meal if I wanted.

Once I finished eating, I walked into my living room to grab a coat; it was kinda cold outside, and I refuse to wear a coat unless it’s below 20 degrees out. I didn’t know the exact temperature, but it was cold as hell, so I didn’t care.

All I had left to do before leaving was go into my bedroom to get my car keys. I walked down the hallway, evaded the piles of junk and dirty clothes that I hadn’t gotten around to washing, and opened my bedroom door.

I’ll never un-see what was sprawled across my bed. I wish I could; I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. God, it was awful. As long as I live, I’ll never forget that man, bloody and naked, staring up at nothing, the life gone from his eyes.

---

 

That was fun, wasn’t it? I hope you guys enjoyed.

Sometime this week, I’m going to be posting on a topic that I probably should have addressed long ago: Arrogance. I’ve been called arrogant and cocky more times than I can count, so we’re going to figure out together (thru my writing on the issue) why the hell that is. If you read this website for the stuff I post other than the stories, I think you’ll like this one. I’m putting a lot of thought into it because it’s pretty important that I get this worked out. You guys can act as my therapist (all 3 of you that actually comment, lolz).

Thanks for reading, everyone! It means a lot. Come back next Sunday for Pt 3!