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I ask Dan why the game was such a fiasco. He uses a sports term I don't understand. I ask him what it means and our paths are split by a pillar. By the time we converge his explanation's half over and I'm not listening. I tell him I've got to go change. Inside the bathroom as I lift my shirt up in front of a mirror I see grid marks all over my torso, like I've been laying on a net. A girl looks at me with horror. This was the men's bathroom last time. I go to the men's bathroom to change instead. Someone's jacking off into one of the urinals. I pretend he's just shaking the droplets off really hard to make things less awkward. I start to change but he corners me. His eyes are too close together and he's got a tattoo like Mike Tyson. He says he feels like punching me. I beg him not to. Mentally handicapped people lose interest fast, and he says he's going to hide and I had to find him. I say sure. I've changed my clothes but I don't remember it. That means something's wrong. I have to tell her. I find her in a line of people. All of them are listening to Jeff Skylark's neurotic misgivings about Mormonism. Some of them are saying he should stick it out. Others, that he should try taking them down from the inside. I've got no patience for it. I have to tell her. I beckon her over. Her face is worried and curious. But it's not her face. I was right. There's no curse word for how I feel. not anymore. Everyone disappears and I bang on a table like a Slav because nothing matters anymore. I get a dirty look from someone I haven't seen in seven years. Skip back. I'm in an old bed and mother figure says I'm supposed to get three rings. The first one has a fire red jewel and gold beetle legs that hug my finger too tight. The next one's silver with a dark blue-purple gem like something a ghost would wear. The third's hypothetical. At the top of the falls I realize I'm afraid of heights and water. I try to look for the third ring and find out it's the part of a fireworks display that sets everything else off, symbolically. I've never been so disappointed. Skip forward. In Las Vegas, there's an art gallery called Jack Dempsey's The Yikes Place. It's like the Yikes Guy, and it says so on a plaque above the door. I can't tell if the reception desk is one of the exhibits, if the other attendees are exhibits. Across the street there's a security agency. One of the employees looks out at me, paranoid, from behind the glass door. I check the job titles, hours, and names of personnel painted on the window. I can't believe it when I see her name. It says she gets into the office at 7:08 a.m. I thought she never woke up that early. I try the door and it's unlocked. There's no sign of the wide-eyed employee from earlier. I try to figure out if one of the desks is hers. The one on the right is tidy except for the beer cans on the floor around it. One of them is covered in an image of a bald eagle. She wouldn't drink that unless she was being ironic. I try reading a note on the desk, but I won't be able to remember the words, and it's too late anyway. A Major Fucker fucked around with this message at 19:09 on Jan 25, 2015 |
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Jan 25, 2015 19:06
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| # ¿ May 19, 2024 18:24 |
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I acidentally throw the tiny rubber bouncy ball into my own team's goal. The look on Dan's face breaks my heart. The rules change every 3 minutes and no one tells me. Everyone else is a hive mind. Just as I think I might be catching on, the buzzer rings. Britney brags to us about figuring out a way to never bathe. Britney says to smell Britney's armpit to prove it doesn't make Britney stink. I smell Britney's armpit. Britney's armpit has no odor whatsoever, not even the baseline that makes you human. It's less scented then a window on a space shuttle. I need to change out of these workout clothes. A Major Fucker fucked around with this message at 10:42 on Jan 26, 2015 |
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Jan 26, 2015 10:37
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The man who knows everything speaks from the back of a van, morose and prickly. He mumbles into a bullhorn: she has to die. He doesn't want to kill her himself, so he tells every passerby how. I know one of them will eventually. I realize there's something I'm more afraid of than water or heights. "She's too young to die," I tell him. He doesn't care. "She's too guiltless to die," I tell him. He doesn't care. "She's too beautiful to die," I tell him. (USER WAS PUT ON PROBATION FOR THIS POST)
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Jan 27, 2015 09:56
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