Saturday, June 28, 2008

Fortunate Son

I could hear Creedence crackling through the record player in the house when he started talking. I can’t quite recall what he was saying though. It might’ve been something regarding a study he had recently read concerning heroin over doses or maybe he was explaining Hegel’s theory of Absolute Idealism to me.

The bottles I had just pulled out of the fridge were cold in my hand as I passed one of them over. He in turn tossed me a cigarette. We were both enjoying things our parents had always told us not to do.

Through the whole exchanging of goods the conversation never stopped. After I took a quick shwig of the beer he suggested that I try some years earlier, I stood there and listened as he continued with his story, briefly interrupting himself every few sentences to comment on Fogerty’s song writing ability.

And then out of nowhere it felt like the ground was starting to shake, maybe a 3.2 on the Richter Scale. I choked on my cigarette and almost dropped my beer as I entertained the thought of earthquakes in Georgia. I quickly regained my composure. The tremor seemed to have only affected me, but in all reality I had barely moved a few inches. He didn’t even notice and kept going.

This convulsing of mine was like a scene out Highlander. Something had changed within and it affected me not only physically, but more importantly, emotionally and spiritually. It was a quickening of sorts. Thankfully, it didn’t require any beheadings.

In a matter of seconds my perception had been altered. I was no longer guarded or anticipating the preconceived notions of how I was told our relationship was supposed to work. Nothing had really changed in that moment yet everything was different. It had been a gradual process that finally led to a stunning revelation.

We had evolved.

Neither of us ever noticed it before, but we were always reminded of it at the end of every visit.

Not only was he my best friend, but he was also my Father.

Saturday, June 07, 2008

She Loved Me To Death

They were both sitting across the table from me equally distracting my attention from the other in their own little ways, but I had a thing for both of them. At least that‘s how it started. We were all talking and I was imagining as if they were both competing for me and maybe they were. I was almost positive the prettier one actually was, the other, not so much and that’s exactly why I wanted her.

I was making them player paper rock scissor in my head and I was turning a quarter in my hand under the table trying to flip for it. Both of their hands kept making fists and the coin felt double-sided. I had to make a decision though because supposedly three’s a crowd. I’ve never actually minded, but I had a feeling they weren’t going to go for it.

I needed a deciding factor.

The lights might’ve gone dim and I think that I could see my breath when my plan finally formulated in my head.

“My favorite serial killer has always been Ted Bundy.” I said.

They kept on talking amongst themselves as if I hadn’t said anything.

Maybe they didn’t hear me, so I repeated myself and then launched into a full monologue explaining my admiration. They were all ears.

“His playing the victim technique was genius and once he made his move it was as though he had been trained by ninja masters when it came to the art of invisibility and his ability to blend in. I will admit though, as his bloodlust grew he undoubtedly became sloppy in his ways and maintaining his flawless execution took a back seat to his need to exterminate a human life. I don’t think any one will ever come close to matching his unwavering resolve for his final goal.”

Without missing a beat the lesser of the two spoke up.

“What he really was lacking was accountability. Obviously, that would be hard to come by when your passion is rape and murder, but I can definitely see why he’s your favorite.”

The prettiest girl didn’t say a word, but I think I could see her eyes welling up. She wouldn’t make contact with either of us for the rest of the night. We took her home.

The previously disinterested was now all mine and honestly, it kind of scared me, but this is what I asked for. She insisted on coming back to my apartment and watching the latest installment in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre series.

I’m not sure what was louder that night, the sound of a gas powered chainsaw tearing through flesh in Dolby Digital surround sound or her mimicking the screams of Leather Face’s victims as she rode me in the darkness.