I AM GOING TO CRUSH THE MOON

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The Story begins now… (p.s. that was not part of the story)

“So did you hear the news today, Karl?” Murphy said

“Yep, that’s why I’m here.”

“Thought so,” Murphy said taking a seat on a rock facing towards the lake. “You always come here to think.”

“I’m not thinking today.”

“Just staring?”

“Just staring.”

“Well staring is good too.”

“Ignorance is bliss they say.”

“They don’t say that anymore,” Murphy said. “Remember they outlawed it two years ago because it gave being dumb a better image. All those kids dropped out of school citing knowledge as the leading cause of depression. Remember all those college professors who got sued? Philosophy courses were banned across the nation for almost a decade. During Richard Dawkins visit to South Carolina he was hijacked and burned at the stake. Then they burned his corpse again for good measure. But I guess that’s what you get in return for disproving God. To be honest I would have been a lot happier if I still believed in God.”

“I bet Newton couldn’t sleep at night.”

“I blame him for this.”

“Why? He didn’t invent gravity. He just discovered it.”

“What, you didn’t hear?” Murphy said. “As of last week it’s now official that Isaac Newton invented gravity. There are some who say he did it for the sole purpose of getting his name etched in history and forever being known as the man who made the moon fall to the Earth.”

“What if we’re falling towards it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, that wouldn’t make any sense. The Earth is perfectly happy. It doesn’t need, nor want, the moon. The moon is the one who’s lonely.” Murphy skipped a rock into the lake. “The Earth is filled with animals, plants, oxygen, dirt, hell even people. The moon has nothing.”

“It’s got rocks.”

“Rocks are nothing. They don’t keep good company. They’re almost as bad as Antarctican’s.”

“That’s racist.”

“Well fuck them, they need to keep their damn mouths shut and mind their own business.” He threw another rock into the lake. He sent a good dose of anger to keep it company. “I liked it better before we found out they existed.”

“Arabelia has Antarctic roots.”

“With a name like that I’m not surprised. She was never good for you. She can fuck off.”

“The trees are blowing pretty hard today.”

“Nah, fuck the trees, the lake is where it’s at,” Murphy said getting up. “Bye Karl.”

“Bye Murphy,” I said still looking towards the trees.

Two weeks later I sat on my rock staring at my trees as they blew in the wind when Murphy arrived. I didn’t see what he was wearing or if he had finally cut his hair like he had been promising to do for the past two months, but based on the sound of his chewing throughout our conversation and the crinkling of a thin foil-like bag I’m pretty sure he was eating chips.

“So did you here the news today, Karl?” Murphy said.

“Yep, that’s why I’m here.”

“Thought so,” Murphy said taking a seat on his rock looking towards his lake. “You always come here to think.”

“I’m not thinking today.”

“Just staring?”

“Just staring.”

“Well you can stare all you want, but we’ve only got about a year until they say it lands on us, just enough time for everyone to go crazy again.”

“Give a sane man a minute and he’ll go crazy with 45 seconds to spare.”

“Amen to that,” Murphy said. “They still aren’t sure where it’s going to land.”

“Crazy, they can put a man on the moon but they can’t figure out where it’s going to land.”

“Didn’t they teach you in school that all the moon landings were a hoax?”

“I was making a joke. People used to complain about us being able to put people on the moon but not being able to do what seems like much simpler stuff. Like perfectly toasting bread without it burning.”

“I know the origin of the saying. I didn’t find your joke funny. Remember in 2012 when Sarah Palin was running for president and to gain publicity Fox broadcasted her going to the moon and while walking on the moon she tripped on a chord and knocked down the back drop.”

“I can’t believe she still won.”

“I think it was her Playboy spread that gained her the independents. They’re all perverts.” Murphy took a bite of what I firmly believe was a chip. “Barack’s Playgirl spread was much more impressive than his presidency but boobs will always hold more power than a penis no matter what size.”

“At least he didn’t blow up Antarctica.”

“They had it coming.”

“Arabelia cried for weeks.”

“Her tears alone were worth it.”

“Hawaii is under water now.”

“Makes for a great snorkeling trip,” Murphy said.

“Half of Australia’s population was wiped out.”

“Small scientific miscalculation,” Murphy said. “They weren’t supposed to be harmed.”

Murphy pretends not to care about people dying but I know he does. If I were ever to die he’d cry for a century. He loves me. That’s why he hates Arabelia. She hurt me. He wants to be the only one that hurts me. That’s what love is now. They changed the definition when Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt overthrew the British government and become the King and Queen of New America 2, the second New America since New America 1, formerly known as the Middle East. I’m not sure what relevance this has to do with love but the government tells me it’s pertinent, and nowadays the people listen to the government. I don’t listen to the government. According to the Government Arabelia loves me but I don’t love her. That’s total bullshit.

“You’re quiet,” Murphy begun, “what are you thinking about?”

“The trees are blowing pretty hard today.”

“Nah, fuck the trees, the lake is where it’s at,” Murphy said getting up. “Bye Karl.”

“Bye Murphy,” I said still looking at the trees, and thinking.

It was two weeks later and I was staring at a hawk perched upon one of my favorite trees way off in the distance, further than many closer trees that I had denied the privilege of being one of my favorite trees. There isn’t anything special about the tree. In fact for the first three weeks I got it confused with the other trees around it. There’s a high probability it’s not even the same tree I originally designated as one of my favorites. I started the paragraph with the intentions of talking about the hawk and ended up talking about the tree. On second thought I don’t even think it was a hawk.

“So did you hear the news today?” Murphy said.

“Yep, that’s why I’m here.”

“Thought so,” Murphy said already sitting on his rock with his lake in view. “You always come here to think.”

“I haven’t thought in years.”

“Just staring?”

“I haven’t seen her in years.”

“You’re going to go see her aren’t you?”

He knew I was going to see her. In eleven months the moon was going to land on me. Well I can’t be so arrogant to think it specifically picked out me. But I can’t be so naïve to think it’s not possible. They determined the Moon was going to land exactly over this lake and crush the nearby city, but I’m not worried about that. I’m more worried about my trees.

“Yes, I’m probably going to see her.”

“Don’t,” Murphy begun, “come with me? I have a cousin who lives up in Canada. I’m going to stay with her. You should come too.”

“You know I can’t.” I don’t know if he was looking at me but I damn sure wasn’t looking at him. “I love Arabelia, not you.” I could hear a rock go flying into the lake.

“What do I have to do to make you love me? Tell me. I’ll do it. I’m bringing the God damn moon to the Earth for you.”

“I’m still not convinced it isn’t the Earth falling on the moon.”

“Don’t be crazy. You can’t tell me I’m not pulling the moon to the Earth.”

“No, conventional wisdom tells me I can’t. But you know me well enough to know I don’t always follow conventional wisdom.”

“Why don’t you love me?” Murphy said.

“The trees are blowing pretty hard today.”

“Nah, fuck the trees, the lake is where it’s at,” Murphy said with sadness in his voice and perhaps a tear running down his face. “Bye Karl.”

“Probably,” I said.

“What the fuck are you doing, Karl?” Murphy said ten months later.

“I’m sitting, staring at the lake, thinking about everything and much more. I’ve never really looked at the lake before. It’s actually beautiful. I think I could have learned to love it more than even the trees. Right here behind me the whole time yet I never acknowledged it. What a fool I am.”

“I hope that’s not a metaphor?”

“It was an accidental metaphor.”

“Things didn’t work out with Arabelia?”

“Things certainly did not. She’s married with a kid. Beautiful little girl named Addelyn, got her father’s smile. I met the man. More of a man than I’ll ever be. Works for the Government, so of course he’s got a sense of humor. Treats her real nice, big house, nice car, and all that good stuff. She’s really happy. I’m happy for her. But I hate it too. I don’t know how to feel.”

“I met someone in Canada.” Murphy was looking me in the eyes for the first time in what conventional wisdom tells me is forever. “Her name is Andreane. She’s German Canadian. She was part of Hitler the third’s guerilla force that overthrew the corrupted French Canadian government. I live with her in Quebec, Montreal to be specific. It’s wonderful there. I’m really happy. It doesn’t smell great but at least the moon isn’t falling on it. ”

He was lying at this point. I didn’t care. I would let him get away with the lie. If I wanted him to he would stay here with me and be crushed by the moon. He’d find it romantic. I wouldn’t. I still don’t love him.

“I don’t love you.”

“I finally realize why,” he said, I suspect lying. “There’s pain in those eyes of yours. There’s love too but I can see it’s not for me. You’re still welcome to come with me back to Canada.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“I know,” Murphy said, “but I can always ask.”

“Not in a month. In a month all the questions will be gone, or as close to it as possible.”

“So you’re going to die, and forever be nothing.”

“Forever includes the past, so I won’t be forever nothing,” I said it louder than I expected. “Arabelia told me you should believe in God again. And that there’s a reason ignorance is so pleasing. And that it was wrong for the Antarcticans to unleash the truth upon the world.”

It’s true that she told me all this. I’m not sure if she meant it though. She lied to me a lot. She was always so much smarter than me so she always knew it was better to lie. I always told the truth. It was stupid of me.

“She’s a liar,” Murphy said.

“Yeah, we both know that. But it still doesn’t change anything.”

“Yep,” Murphy sighed. “The trees are blowing pretty hard today.”

“Yeah, I know, but I think I should spend some times staring at the lake.”

Murphy slowly walked away not looking back once. I don’t know what happened to him. I assume I’m never going to see him again. If there’s no heaven, which has been proven, and if there’s no hell, which is still heavily contested, then I can only assume if all goes as planned that I’m never going to see him again. But conventional wisdom tells us that the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray. Or was that Robert Burns? Either way he was an Antarctican.

Today is the day of the historic moon landing, but this one is not a hoax. The sky has been pitch black for days now. There are not many people left in the city or anywhere around it. My neighbor is an old lady. She will not leave. She’s lived in her house for 84 years and by golly she’ll die in that house. There is a homeless man who has made a home of the supermarket down the street from me where I go to get my food. He is a nice man. He pretends to be the cashier when I am there and I give him money and he rips it up and we laugh because we both know money is no longer good to us, just like it was a few years back when the 46^th president declared the new currency to be seashells, because after all a sand dollar is prettier than a paper dollar. California finally bought themselves out of debt, but immediately returned to it after Caligula Jr., as we called him because he looked just like Caligula and not at all because he was crazy, was impeached on the grounds of being crazy and a detriment to our government. He was replaced by who we call Abraham Lincoln Jr., whose nickname was given with the same theory behind it as to why so many fat men are called tiny. Those few years sent the Civil Rights movement back a long way.

But look at me going on and on about nothing. It’s funny how one can find so many things to talk about when death is upon him.

I’m going to lie under the moon now. I don’t know why but I’m at ease. I often thought the moon was the loneliest place in the universe. There are galaxies without beings for many light years.  But they are ignorant. They do not know what they are missing. The moon had to spend its whole existence staring at life develop on Earth but could never partake in the fun. The moon has been taunted for almost ever, but no longer. I shall save it from loneliness and it shall save me.

Whether by Fate, Coincidence, or Complete Fabrication

“Jesus H. Christ, that’s Jesus Christ,” I said to myself, staring into the toilet bowl full of puke which I had proudly produced all by myself. “Of all the toilets in all the homes in all the world, you had to appear in mine.” I had never seen Casablanca, but I heard the quote enough times to add the proper replacements and make it my own in that bizarre moment. Although technically this toilet didn’t belong to me, but to whoever owned this house that this Halloween party was being thrown at, but I considered the toilet to be my own in that peculiar moment.

I got up off my knees and stared at Jesus Christ from further away. It was still him. He didn’t speak to me. I wish he had. It would have gave the moment meaning, or more meaning I guess. “Speak for God’s sake,” I said to Jesus, laughing a little. Before the toilet full of puke could answer, although I’m starting to doubt it would have, I heard a pound on the door, followed by a not so friendly sentiment encouraging me to hurry up and quit talking to myself. “I’ll do one of the two for you,” I said as I flushed the toilet and watched Jesus Christ turn back into my vomit. I turned to the mirror, “I hope he chooses for me to hurry up because I’d really like to continue talking to myself.” I chuckled a little more than was deserved.

“The faucets aren’t labeled,” I said noticing the faucets weren’t labeled. I twisted the left one hoping it would be the hot water. It started off cold but I was vaguely confident it would soon warm up. It didn’t. I continued with the cold water not caring to correct my mistake. I looked in the mirror and I was hideous. I should have dressed up as Frankenstein for Halloween. I would have looked better. “Rose could never love me.” I splashed some of that cold water on my face. It sent a shiver up my spine and I looked in the mirror again. “Yeah, cause that’s going to make her love you,” I said to the mirrored me. “It’s almost better than nothing,” he said back.

I didn’t dress up as anything for Halloween. I chickened out. I was thinking about going as Mikhail Gorbachev, but there wasn’t enough room on my forehead for that weird mark, or stain, or whatever it is. But hey, now I’ve got an okay Halloween costume in my back pocket for when I go bald, assuming I’ll go bald.

I turned off the cold water. As I dried off my hands I continued to look at myself in the mirror not approving of what I saw, and that’s when I saw hanging over my shoulder. It was a framed Bible quote placed on the wall over the toilet, Proverbs 3:5, 6: Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths.

I read it over a few times and on the third or fourth time some guy walked into the bathroom spouting off about me taking forever and not being able to wait any longer. And then he called me crazy for talking to myself. The balls on this guy, calling me crazy when he was the one who busted into an occupied bathroom and proceeded to urinate while another man was standing next to him trying to make sense of a Bible quote. He quickly made with his business and left, but I was alone for no more than a second as a girl dressed as a slutty cheerleader – at least I’m assuming – swiftly entered and stared at me staring at the quote.

“You’ve got to leave. I literally don’t have the balls to pee in front of you like that other guy did,” she said laughing, thinking she was being witty, as most people do when they use the word literally.

I nodded but before leaving I grabbed the framed quote off the wall. It came off without a struggle. I didn’t see the look on the girl’s face but I imagine she was confused. I took the quote with me as I exited the bathroom. “Good luck,” I said as I shut the door.

I made my way through the partiers in the hallway back to the partiers in the living room. I looked to the couch where me and my friends had been sitting before my excursion to the bathroom, but they were no longer there. Instead I found myself staring at a male dressed as Luke Skywalker making out with a female dressed as Princess Leia. I turned away from the disturbing, yet oddly arousing, image and found my two friends standing in the corner. They appeared to be looking at Luke and Leia also. I made my way to them.

“It’s disturbing,” Hercules said.

“Why?” Frodo (from Lord of the Rings) responded, making it the pair of them not to greet me back from the bathroom.

“They’re brother and sister. It’s just plain wrong.”

“They’re not really brother and sister though. They’re just dressed as it”

“Are you telling me you wouldn’t mind making out with a girl dressed as your sister?” Hercules said with his hand firmly on his plastic sword as if Frodo didn’t respond correctly he would cut him in half.

“First of all I don’t have a sister. But if I did I’m pretty sure I could make out with a girl dressed as her. And second…”

“I don’t want to hear more,” I butted in, “This is getting disturbing.” I handed the framed quote to Frodo. “Hey take a look at this quote for me.”

“What took you so long?” Hercules said.

“I was vomiting.”

“You haven’t even drank anything.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Rose?”

“No. Maybe. Yeah. Of course, Rose.”

“Don’t worry about it, she likes you.” He gave me a confiding smile but because of his outfit it just looked creepy and I really wanted him to stop.

“What is this about?” Frodo said holding up the framed quote. Hercules grabbed it from him and started to read it.

“I found it in the bathroom. I think it’s a sign.”

“So you stole it?” Frodo said.

“No, I barrowed it, I’ll put it back later. And it’s not just the quote. Before that I saw Jesus H. Christ in the form of my puke. I think there may be a meaning behind all this.”

“You puked? And I thought you didn’t believe in God?”

“I did,” I said in response to puking, “and I don’t,” I said in response to my belief in god, “but I’m sure that was Jesus Christ I saw.”

“In puke form,” Frodo corrected.

“Nonetheless it was him. And then I see this quote hanging on the bathroom wall, no more than five feet above where Jesus Christ had been floating in the toilet seconds earlier. I think the quote is telling me I should trust in Jesus.”

“The quote is telling you to trust in the LORD,” Hercules said looking up from the quote. “The LORD could be considered as Jesus, but Proverbs was originally a part of the Old Testament, which makes no mention of Jesus, so I think here clearly the LORD is referring to God, and not Jesus. It would have made more sense if you saw God in your puke.”

“I thought God and Jesus could be considered the same?” I said.

“I don’t know,” Hercules said befuddled. “I’m going to go get another beer.” He handed the framed quote to me and walked to the kitchen.

“So what do you think?” I said turning to Frodo.

“I think you’re crazy,” he said bluntly.

“Well that’s a given, but what should I do about the quote, and the Jesus made of puke?”

“You think the quote is telling you to listen to Jesus, and you saw Jesus in the toilet, but did toilet Jesus tell you to do anything?”

“No, he just stared at me.” Frodo stared at me. “But maybe he didn’t need to say anything to me? Maybe it’s something I already know and I need to look deep down inside myself to figure out?

“You know what I think?” He didn’t wait for my reply to tell me what he thought I thought. “I think you’re nervous about Rose tonight.”

The Hobbit was right about that. I had met Rose twice before but the last time had been five months ago. The bulk of our friendship took place over late night phone conversations that consisted of me making lame jokes and her laughing at said lame jokes and then me trying to figure out how a person could laugh at such lame jokes. However over the last few weeks it was becoming clear that there might be something more to us than just a friendship based on lame jokes. The problem was she lived a few cities over, so until I learned to navigate semi-long distance bus routes, or to drive a car without being magnetically pulled to the sidewalk, I didn’t have much of a chance to see her – by the way, there was an example of one of my lame jokes, not the best I know, but I work for quantity not quality. That night Rose was in town for the weekend visiting her friends, and she invited me to that Halloween party. It would be the first time I would see her since we had connected on a non-lame joke basis. I was excited. I was also very nervous.

“So I think,” The Hobbit continued, “you need to get some alcohol in your system to get rid of those nerves. And you definitely don’t need to mention the whole Jesus in the shitter incident.”

“She might have an interesting take on it though,” I said wishing I had said analysis instead of take.

“No. Trust me girls don’t like guys talking about anything they do in the bathroom.”

“I should have said analysis instead of take.”

Frodo didn’t notice or care. “Just tell her she’s beautiful or some bullshit like that.”

My eyebrows rose. “Rose is beautiful. Well I assume so. I mean I’ve only seen her a couple of times, but she was beautiful both those times. And she looks beautiful in all her pictures, so I’m assuming she’ll look beautiful tonight. I’m just hoping she’s not dressed as a vampire or something like that. Not that our pseudo-relationship is based on looks, or is even necessarily a fake relationship or relationship in any way shape or form.”

“What?” Frodo said confused. “And don’t worry, if she’s dressed as a vampire it will be a slutty one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I wasn’t sure if he was implying she was a slut or that all girls dress slutty on Halloween.

“All girls dress as slutty versions of things on Halloween,” he said, relieving me I guess. “I’m going to go get you something to drink, something strong. You sit tight here and I’ll be back in a minute.”

As he walked away I took another look at the framed Bible quote in my hands. They were probably right. I was crazy to think that that quote and a Jesus made of puke meant more than what they really did, which was nothing, probably. I made my way to the bathroom, waited in line behind two people, and then hung the framed Bible quote back in its rightful place, that being above the toilet of course. I flushed the toilet on my way out as to not arouse suspicion.

On my way back to my spot, where I hoped Frodo would be waiting with my drink, I heard an interesting conversation.

“What time is it John?” Said guy one dressed as Mario.

“Eight thirty-two,” said guy two (perhaps John?)  wearing a Barack Obama mask.

“Really, it seems later than that?”

“Oops, my bad, I can’t see anything through this damn mask. It’s Ten, thirty-one to be exact.”

Not a terribly exciting conversation on the top layer, but that night I was looking deeper. I thought I was over the Jesus in the toilet thing but I wasn’t. One of the guys name was John, and I knew that was a name of one of the books in the New Testament. And he had said the time was Ten thirty-one. I quickly starter to wonder what I would find if I looked up John 10:31 in the Bible. But I needed a Bible in order to find that out. And wouldn’t you know it there was one sitting on the desk right in front of me. I picked it up and flipped to John 10:31. It said: Then the Jews took up stones again to stone him.

Well I had not a God damn clue what that was supposed to mean. But luckily my mind was working fast that night. Thankfully I remember, from a conversation that took place a minute earlier, that originally the guy, John, had said eight thirty-two. So I quickly flipped the page to John 8:32. It said: And you shall know the truth, and the truth will make you free.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean to me?” I said looking around to see if anybody heard me. It appeared they didn’t. “I guess it makes more sense than Jews taking up stones.” I thought about the quote a little more before putting the Bible down and making my way back to the living room, anxious to explain my new finding to either a Hobbit or a Demigod, but instead I found a Flower. Of course I’m referring to Rose and of course she looked beautiful, but I wasn’t calling her a flower because her name was Rose. I was calling her a flower because she was dressed as a flower, but ironically not a rose. She appeared to be a daisy. The petals would make it hard for me to kiss her. I didn’t think that because I was horny. I thought it because I was being observant.

She noticed me. I must’ve looked like an idiot standing across the room staring at her with that way I stare. She quickly smiled and quickly walked over to me. I didn’t expect a hug, but a hug is what I received. Surprisingly the petals didn’t put up much of a cock-block, if I may so use that phrase in a non literal sense? The hug felt good, damn near great. As she released her arms from around me and our bodies separated I silently cursed God that that moment couldn’t be forever.

“How are you?” Rose said. “And where have you been hiding? I’ve been out here for like ten minutes wondering where you were.”

“I’m doing good. Oh, and I was just in the…” I didn’t want to say bathroom for some reason. Frodo may have got to me. “I was in the laundry room.” I’m not sure why I said it either.

“The laundry room?”

“Well no, not really. I was actually, maybe, sort of…” The nerves, they were getting to me. “So you’re dressed as a daisy I see,” I said smooth as cottage cheese.

“You noticed,” she said surprised. “Most guys just assumed because my name is Rose I dressed up as a Rose. I thought it would be ironic to dress up as a different kind of flower.”

“I found it ironic, so yay!” Yay? That doesn’t sound like me at all. “Hope you don’t think I’m gay for knowing how to differentiate flowers?”

“Of course I don’t think you’re gay,” Rose said, assuring me she didn’t think I was gay.

“You can never be too sure,” I said, immediately wondering why it appeared I was insisting she question my sexuality. “But really, I’m not gay, just to clarify.”

“I know,” she said, still with the smile she had had when first seeing me. “So why aren’t you dressed up?”

“Oh, but I am. I’m…” Oh crap, I had set up a joke without knowing what the punch line was going to be. I couldn’t go with the cliché ‘guy not wearing a costume’ is my costume, that’s too cliché. I started to panic. “I’m guy who may or may not be gay?” I said, not being able to get away from the whole gay thing for some reason.

“You know if you keep bringing that up people are going to start wondering about you.”

“Let them wonder. I’m secure with my sexuality.”

“So you’re happy being gay?”

“Completely,” I said defiantly, and walking right into her trap. She started laughing and I realized why. “You know it wouldn’t have been a bad idea to dress up as a rose because you’ve certainly got thorns,” I said trying to be witty.

She gave me a telling smile I couldn’t figure out the meaning to and was about to say something but was preempted.

“Hey Rose, come here a second, I want to show you something,” said the slutty cheerleader who I had encountered in the bathroom earlier that night, and who was apparently Rose’s friend.

“Sorry,” Rose begun, “my friend has been dying to show me something tonight. But you stay put and I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

I nodded my head and stayed put. In the first ten minutes it was pretty boring. People walked past me but nothing interesting happened. Then Frodo appeared. He handed me a drink so I drank. I told him about the quote I found in the Bible, John 8:31. He told me about two decently attractive drunk girls a few guys had paid to make out. We both turned out to be as equally uninterested in what each other had to say. Then Hercules found us and I told him about the quote. And then he told me some philosophical crap about truth being relative that I didn’t listen to because I was too busy wondering when Rose was coming back. Then they said I was boring so they were going to go look around the house for fun people. I wasn’t offended. I just stood and waited some more. Twice a scantily clad girl called me a loser for not dressing up. Twice I agreed with her. I got to see more of Luke and Leia making out. For a short while the TV was on ESPN and since it was a Saturday I got to see college football highlights. But later someone changed the channel and I got to watch the last third of The 40 Year Old Virgin on mute. It turns out the movie isn’t that great with no sound. And in what must have been the highlight of my time waiting there, I got to bear witness to a heavyset fellow wearing a Richard Milhous Nixon mask run bare naked through the house. The man had no shame, nor should he have.

I didn’t think she was going to return, but she did. She walked back into the room and she saw me seeing her seeing me standing in the exact spot she had told me to stay. She slowly walked over to me. She seemed a little drunk, at the least.

“Have you been standing in that same spot the whole time since I left?” Rose said in a way that assured me she was drunk.

“No,” I lied, “There was a brief period where I stepped over to that house plant and took a piss.” For some reason knowing she was drunk calmed me down. Also I was buzzed so I wasn’t worried as much about saying something stupid.

“I’m sorry that took so long.”

“I didn’t even notice,” I lied again. “Oh my God, I’m becoming a liar,” I said more to myself than her.

“I know it was a long time. Rachel wanted to show me to her cousin. She thought I might like him.”

How dare that whore Rachel! “Oh how sweet of Rachel. And did you like him?” I asked thinking if she said yes I would have to find something sharp to impale myself on.

“He was hot,” Rose said nonchalant.

“Hmm, I bet if I break that mirror one of the shards could do the trick.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Tell me more about him,” I said not caring to know anything more about him unless he was a eunuch.

“Well he’s hot, but he’s not as smart as you.”

As me? She’s comparing him to me. That could be a good thing? Wait, that could be a terrible thing? Comparison might show all my flaws? But she just said I was smarter than him, that’s good. But she said he’s hot, and she didn’t say anything about my hotness, that’s bad. Focus on the good you fool! You can’t win ‘em all. But I should be able to. I want her to love me. Why though?

Those were my thoughts in that moment. And that’s when I thought I realized everything that night, John 8:32, the framed quote, Jesus made of puke, everything.

“I came here for you, not him,” Rose said. “I want you Teddy.” She leaned in to kiss me. Her lips looked so, well for lack of a better phrase, kissable.

Jesus H. Chris wasn’t in the toilet. Or at least now I’m convinced he wasn’t. My mind just wanted me to think he was. It was a start to a convoluted realization that should have came easier. Had I just seen vomit in the toilet instead of Jesus Christ I wouldn’t have thought anything of the framed Bible quote when I saw it. The quote made me think there must be a meaning to tonight. And there was, but I shouldn’t have needed a framed quote to tell me so. I can’t really explain the John 8:32 thing. I don’t know why the guy in the Barack Obama mask was named John, and I’m not sure why he mistakenly said the time was Eight thirty-two which led me to a Bible quote about truth, but it happened. And somehow it worked. At least I thought so.

“I can’t kiss you,” I said wondering if it was the dumbest thing I have ever said in my young life.

“What?” Rose said with one of those cute little smiles she has showing. “Why?”

“I don’t love you.”

“What does love have to do with this?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t love you, and I’m not sure if I ever could, but I want you to love me, and that’s wrong of me.”

“Why are you talking about love? It’s just a kiss. It doesn’t mean much.”

“Not to me. Gertrude Stein was wrong when she said a kiss is a kiss is a kiss.” Rose gave me a funny look. There’s a more than likely chance it was because it’s supposed to be Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose. I find it funny I couldn’t remember it was rose and not kiss. Curse me for trying to sound smart. “To me a kiss would be leading you on possibly to something I don’t want. I can’t do that.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I need time to think.”

“Think about what?”

“Us,” I said thinking it was obvious. “I’m not sure how I feel about you.”

“Well take all the time in the world,” Rose said, perhaps with a tear in her eye. She walked out of the room with a quick pace.

“I’m an idiot.” The five other people in the room seemed oblivious to what I had just said and to what had just happened, but I’m sure they would have agreed with me. I immediately regretted my decision. What if I was wrong? I’m usually wrong. Maybe I did make up this whole religious wild goose chase to get to the truth, but maybe I was wrong about the truth? Yes, I did want her to love me, but maybe it wasn’t because I was being selfish, but instead because I loved her and wanted her to feel the same way? Is that being selfish? Do I love her? I don’t know.

I should have chased after her. I should have caught her and kissed her with all the passion in the Heavens and Hell. I didn’t. I felt sick. I ran to the bathroom instead of her. I release my regrets into the toilet. I didn’t see Jesus this time. Just meaningless puke.

crappy story my sister made me write for her

Bonnie and Quy laid next to each other in bed drenched in sweat after ten hours of rough sex that I dare not describe any further in fear that the image will be burned into my head for weeks to come and I’ll lose twenty percent of my body weight from nonstop vomiting.

They looked deep into each other’s eyes, and you could tell that Bonnie was in love, and that Quy was just using her for sex. But it wasn’t Quy’s fault that he didn’t love Bonnie, for his heart only had room for one love, and that spot was reserved for pogs. Quy collected pogs. You know those little circular disks slightly bigger than quarters that were somewhat popular in the 90s. Yes, Quy loved pogs more than he could ever love any woman, and probably any man.

But Quy continued the charade of loving Bonnie. Why? For the sex. Second to Quy’s love of pogs was his dream of moving to Paris and opening a male stripclub called Baguettes. But after that it was sex. And after that it was sex with a woman. And fifth was sex with Bonnie.

Bonnie and Quy leaned in close to each other, about to connect lips for passionate kiss, but before they could the bedroom door was flung open.

It was Christopher, Bonnie’s husband.

Christopher and Bonnie had first met at Harvard. Bonnie had stumbled onto the Harvard football field after a crazy night of drinking, and Christopher was supposed to meet one of the fat chicks in the chest club there to make-out. Neither Bonnie nor Christopher actually attended Harvard. In fact neither Bonnie nor Christopher had graduated high school. They were both deemed literally too cool for school and expelled their junior years.

On that Harvard football field was one of the most awkward displays of sexual intercourse to have ever occurred on this planet. No, not between Christopher and Bonnie, but between a professor and his retarded student. How a mentally challenged person made it into Harvard I’ll never know.

Christopher and Bonnie fell in love immediately. Bonnie loved his sense of wit and dashing good looks. Christopher loved that she was a girl who wasn’t fat and in the Chess club. They got married in one of the most romantic places in the world, East Berlin in the early sixties. They had three kids, all of which died tragically. They were all boys, which is still tragic but less tragic than if they were girls. One died while trying to break the record for most failed attempts at suicide, another died while trying to figure out why people watched One Tree Hill, and two were eaten by a goat (that’s four) oh, then only one was eaten by a goat, but he was fat.

After their kids had died Christopher and Bonnie became distant. It also didn’t help that Christopher had been diagnosed with the first ever cased of sperm cancer. It wasn’t actually that his sperm had cancer, it was just called sperm cancer because that was the name of the doctor that discovered it. It was actually cancer of the foreskin. So Christopher had to get circumcised. That day Christopher lost more than just part of his penis. He lost his personality. He became cold, and abusive, towards his penis that is. He would beat his penis everyday. At first it was painful. But then it got surprisingly pleasant. And then he became disgusted with himself. And then he joined a support group. And that didn’t help things at all. He needed to go on a vacation, so he went to Disney Land, but he was disappointed, he really wanted to go to Disney World.

While Christopher was away at Disney Land Bonnie met Quy. They met at the movie theatre where they were watching Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. They were the only two in the auditorium. It was their love of Matthew Macconaughey shirtless that initially brought them together. Bonnie and Quy quickly formed a band in which Quy wrote the lyrics and played the tambourine and Bonnie sang and played the didjeridu. Their band lasted three weeks and they received the highest ratings ever on the Ed Sullivan Show. But they weren’t in it for the frame or the money. They were in it for the passion. And they lost the passion for music. But they gained passion for each other.

But now Christopher was back, and he stared at Bonnie and Quy both naked in bed, no scratch that. Bonnie had clothes on because I don’t want to have to think about my sister naked for the rest of the story, but Quy was completely naked (because you’re okay with thinking about that) he’s got an admirable body.

Christopher was mad. Not like mad when you miss your favorite TV show, but like mad when you find out your wife has cheated on you with your best friend. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention Quy and Christopher are best friends, well I mean were best friends. They aren’t anymore because Christopher kills Quy at the end of the story (spoiler alert).

“You son of a bitch,” Christopher yelled at the top of his lungs.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” pleaded Bonnie.

“Really,” Christopher begun, “because it looks like you didn’t open the package of video tapes that I gave you so you must not have recorded all my favorite shows for me while I was gone.”

“What?” Bonnie said. “You’re mad about that? What about finding me and Quy in bed with each other?”

“Well I assume you guys were cold so you hoped under the blankets and played a nice friendly game of cards.”

“Yeah, I was playing poke-her,” said Quy and then broke into a huge laughing fit.

“You mean poker,” Christopher corrected.

“No, I mean poke-her, like I was poking your wife with my penis.”

“Well why would you do such a thing as that?”

“Because we’re in love,” Bonnie shouted to the heavens.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down,” Quy said. “I was just in this for the sex. I ain’t looking for no long term thing here. I just need someone to keep me busy until my next shipment of pogs comes in.”

“But Quy, I thought we had something special?”

“I know that’s how I wanted you to feel so I could continue to have sex with you.”

“I feel so used.”

“And I feel stabbed in the back,” Christopher said. “But two Advil’s and my back should feel fine.” (Lamest joke in the story.)

“Oh Christopher I feel so terrible,” said Bonnie. “How can I make it up to you?”

“I’m afraid there is nothing you can do,” Christopher said, still upset about his TV shows that didn’t get recorded. “It’s over between me and you.”

“But what about if me, you and Quy have a threesome?”

Christopher thought. And then he thought some more. And then he continued to think. And then he stopped thinking for two minutes. And then he thought some more, but it wasn’t about the possibility of a threesome. Then he thought about the threesome some more. Then he made a list comparing and contrasting the idea of a threesome. Then he called his mother and asked her for advice. Then he came to a decision.

“No, I can’t have a threesome with you guys. I’ve got business to attend to.”

Christopher then left the room forever to go download the episodes of the TV shows that he missed off the internet. (I thought you said Christopher killed Quy in the story) I’m a liar.

Bonnie and Quy were left alone.

“So you don’t love me?” Bonnie asked.

“I guess I don’t,” Quy responded pretending to feel ashamed.

“This tryst is over. I can find someone a lot better than you to be with”

Just then Eva walked in and this story got a whole lot sexier.

“Hey Eva,” Bonnie said, “Want to make out?”

Just then I walked into the room.

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you two? You guys can not make out. But Eva if you’re looking for a good time I’m more than ready and willing, and I’m almost adequate,” and then I whispered, “if you discount the small penis.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Eva said. “I’d rather shove my head in a hippo’s ass and have my body eaten at by a pack of wild wolves then even think about doing anything sexual with you, Quentin.”

“Fair enough,” I said. And then me and Eva both disappeared from the room in magical fashion.

“This seems like a very unsuitable ending,” said Quy.

“I really hate this story,” said Bonnie. “I’m really mad at you Quentin.”

So am I. So am I.

THE END