Cambodian Rocks!
Here's a very short story I wrote a few days ago, I was not knowing whether to post it or not, but since I figured only Ben and Omri will read it, and Omri has already read it, so it's like, there Ben, read this story, unless of course you'll be a jerk and not read it.
Anyways, it's half edited, I bet if I read it now I'd change like four things in it, but I won't, so it's not final, and umm, I don't know, don't take it seriously, or too seriously anyways.
Have fun!!
Faultwood, Pall Mall, and the Mystery of Girls
Chapter 1 - A Broom Is a Stick That Grows Hair and Other Thoughts about Work
"A broom is a stick that grows hair", once again the phrase went through his aching mind, it's worth no more then a hairy vagina, he thought, throwing the dirt off the red duct-taped dustpan. That duct taping really didn't pay off, now the dirt was going under the dustpan, thanks to it's increased height, but never mind that, they got a new dustpan anyway, he just never uses it. "It's worth no more than saggy buttocks".
"Alright Ilan, I'm out". He received no answer, no one really has much to say to that, you might as well have left two hours ago, and they know that, it's just that formality is the rule-maker, formality is what puts things in perspective, and formality does not pay off, it's not like the attention of a beautiful girl, that gives you confidence and afterthoughts for weeks after, it's not like getting a hold of a beautiful girl's neck during a concert, while all you have to lose is that pack of cigarettes that probably fell off your breast pocket a long long time ago, it's not like that, it’s nothing like that, it's kinda like having the last cigarette, when you just smoked the one before the last a little while ago, and it's such a goner you can't keep putting your faith into it, so you end it, you smoke it. Yeah, it's kinda like that, and he knows that.
Chapter 2 - A First Chapter in a Short Story Is Kinda Like the Fifth Cigarette in a Camel Package
He sat down on a bench on Rothschild Ave. pulled out the fifth cigarette from his Pall Mall pack and belittled all the people he knew, he was thinking of the damn refrigerator’s door being broken and suddenly he realized he was starring right at the face of whom this street was named after. Alma, he named this street after her because the last time he bumped into her was on this street, but he sort of forgot about that, however none of that changed the fact that he staring at the most beautiful girl in Tel Aviv, and this kind of beauty, unfortunately, was becoming extinct, starring at such a rare beauty requires more then simple thoughts about cigarettes and indie-rock music, but that’s he’s capable of, and he knows that.
"Hi", she said coldly after he raised his hand in a greeting manner, "I've been pondering about what's more ironic, dying in the shade or killing in the sun, I've been reading Kami you see?", she said with a strange smile that she can produce whenever trouble arouses, he knew that smile very well, he spent a year in it's gloomy shadow. "Shut up, you know this doesn't matter at all, as long as you don't accept my love there is no reason to ponder over death, death will not come to the love-sick, death will come to the lonely", his reply couldn't have been more articulate he felt, though once again, he was wrong, just like the sixth cigarette he pooled out of his Pall Mall pack just then, never two in a row, never. "Smile a little, you make me feel awful, you smoke like your whole life is ahead of you, while really, it's not, you'll soon become lonely". Yes, now he remembered, no matter how inarticulate he could get, she could always be vaguer, that thought made him smile, yes; beautiful females do tend to do that. So this was a lost argument, from its birth, lost, how surprising. Now he didn't even remember what the argument was about, her fault, he thought, no, it doesn’t matter now, he had to end this; so he inhaled more smoke, letting it rest before or perhaps inside of his mouth just a split second before he took it in. Then he spoke, having prepared a short speech during the Shah~ta*, and being quite confident as this was the moment, this is the moment he talks about all the time, and it’s also The Moment, he knows, that the moment in it self is something to live for. Having thought all this he said - "To the fact you're superior, I have no argument, and to my obsession, I have no cure, all I know, is this realization I’ve come to, you see, I’ve realized, that in this life time, there is no chance, not even a slight one, for all I know, that you will go out with me, and that devastates me, and I know why, I really do, but you won't understand, you won't understand because in fact, we are alike, I don't understand a thing, and many girls tell me I should”, He laughed, this was true, this is his life he is talking about. “We are so much alike, you see, it's just that guys can appreciate females more than females could ever appreciate guys, ever, and that makes you superior, even medically speaking. Yet, you are sad, because you can't fall in love with me, and I know you want to.” Oh then she burst into tears like she always does, and they kissed just like in a Manga graphic novel, just like smoking the first cigarette of a Pall Mall pack, only lasting forever. They hugged for a long time, and he almost cried too, but he didn't, because he never does. Then she said, groping his butt, "You have grown yourself a saggy buttock".
Chapter 3 - Farewell and Remember Me
Alone at his apartment, sitting on the couch, the relatively new yet awfully sweaty couch; Smoking, as usual, already at the thirteenth cigarette, the one that holds you together, the one that keeps you from doing hasty things, smoking it slowly, as if it's speed that causes sadness to overflow, he was treasuring it, taking long before he hit off the ashes, and taking long before he mentally joined those ashes in the metallic smelly ashtray that lay on the chessboard-table, a strange design indeed, he never played chess on that table, he probably never will, he was taking long.
When they departed he said "Farewell And Remember Me", though he knew that she had forgotten him already, it was a matter of formality, saying "Remember me", it wasn't like a beautiful woman giving you her goodbye, he only got a goodbye once, and he will never forget that, but times have changed, he will never get a goodbye, not from her, and he knows it, he knows it so well he doesn't even think it, but it's just that, it's saying goodbye and getting a smile, a smile and a wave, it's like getting a knee to the balls and a bite to the face, all the while smoking the tenth cigarette, the one that doesn’t mean anything, and makes you feel nothing, and yet is part of a complete cycle that must be completed around. It’s the cigarette that makes you want to quit. He once was told that there are two reasons for why people smoke - One is because they want to smoke, the other is because they want to quit. This is the tenth cigarette; it’s the essence of why he smokes.
“Damn” he thought, he didn't even remember to touch her neck, what a waste! and pushing the cigarette against the ashtray he ponders once again over what is more ironic; killing the girl that you
Anyways, it's half edited, I bet if I read it now I'd change like four things in it, but I won't, so it's not final, and umm, I don't know, don't take it seriously, or too seriously anyways.
Have fun!!
Faultwood, Pall Mall, and the Mystery of Girls
Chapter 1 - A Broom Is a Stick That Grows Hair and Other Thoughts about Work
"A broom is a stick that grows hair", once again the phrase went through his aching mind, it's worth no more then a hairy vagina, he thought, throwing the dirt off the red duct-taped dustpan. That duct taping really didn't pay off, now the dirt was going under the dustpan, thanks to it's increased height, but never mind that, they got a new dustpan anyway, he just never uses it. "It's worth no more than saggy buttocks".
"Alright Ilan, I'm out". He received no answer, no one really has much to say to that, you might as well have left two hours ago, and they know that, it's just that formality is the rule-maker, formality is what puts things in perspective, and formality does not pay off, it's not like the attention of a beautiful girl, that gives you confidence and afterthoughts for weeks after, it's not like getting a hold of a beautiful girl's neck during a concert, while all you have to lose is that pack of cigarettes that probably fell off your breast pocket a long long time ago, it's not like that, it’s nothing like that, it's kinda like having the last cigarette, when you just smoked the one before the last a little while ago, and it's such a goner you can't keep putting your faith into it, so you end it, you smoke it. Yeah, it's kinda like that, and he knows that.
Chapter 2 - A First Chapter in a Short Story Is Kinda Like the Fifth Cigarette in a Camel Package
He sat down on a bench on Rothschild Ave. pulled out the fifth cigarette from his Pall Mall pack and belittled all the people he knew, he was thinking of the damn refrigerator’s door being broken and suddenly he realized he was starring right at the face of whom this street was named after. Alma, he named this street after her because the last time he bumped into her was on this street, but he sort of forgot about that, however none of that changed the fact that he staring at the most beautiful girl in Tel Aviv, and this kind of beauty, unfortunately, was becoming extinct, starring at such a rare beauty requires more then simple thoughts about cigarettes and indie-rock music, but that’s he’s capable of, and he knows that.
"Hi", she said coldly after he raised his hand in a greeting manner, "I've been pondering about what's more ironic, dying in the shade or killing in the sun, I've been reading Kami you see?", she said with a strange smile that she can produce whenever trouble arouses, he knew that smile very well, he spent a year in it's gloomy shadow. "Shut up, you know this doesn't matter at all, as long as you don't accept my love there is no reason to ponder over death, death will not come to the love-sick, death will come to the lonely", his reply couldn't have been more articulate he felt, though once again, he was wrong, just like the sixth cigarette he pooled out of his Pall Mall pack just then, never two in a row, never. "Smile a little, you make me feel awful, you smoke like your whole life is ahead of you, while really, it's not, you'll soon become lonely". Yes, now he remembered, no matter how inarticulate he could get, she could always be vaguer, that thought made him smile, yes; beautiful females do tend to do that. So this was a lost argument, from its birth, lost, how surprising. Now he didn't even remember what the argument was about, her fault, he thought, no, it doesn’t matter now, he had to end this; so he inhaled more smoke, letting it rest before or perhaps inside of his mouth just a split second before he took it in. Then he spoke, having prepared a short speech during the Shah~ta*, and being quite confident as this was the moment, this is the moment he talks about all the time, and it’s also The Moment, he knows, that the moment in it self is something to live for. Having thought all this he said - "To the fact you're superior, I have no argument, and to my obsession, I have no cure, all I know, is this realization I’ve come to, you see, I’ve realized, that in this life time, there is no chance, not even a slight one, for all I know, that you will go out with me, and that devastates me, and I know why, I really do, but you won't understand, you won't understand because in fact, we are alike, I don't understand a thing, and many girls tell me I should”, He laughed, this was true, this is his life he is talking about. “We are so much alike, you see, it's just that guys can appreciate females more than females could ever appreciate guys, ever, and that makes you superior, even medically speaking. Yet, you are sad, because you can't fall in love with me, and I know you want to.” Oh then she burst into tears like she always does, and they kissed just like in a Manga graphic novel, just like smoking the first cigarette of a Pall Mall pack, only lasting forever. They hugged for a long time, and he almost cried too, but he didn't, because he never does. Then she said, groping his butt, "You have grown yourself a saggy buttock".
Chapter 3 - Farewell and Remember Me
Alone at his apartment, sitting on the couch, the relatively new yet awfully sweaty couch; Smoking, as usual, already at the thirteenth cigarette, the one that holds you together, the one that keeps you from doing hasty things, smoking it slowly, as if it's speed that causes sadness to overflow, he was treasuring it, taking long before he hit off the ashes, and taking long before he mentally joined those ashes in the metallic smelly ashtray that lay on the chessboard-table, a strange design indeed, he never played chess on that table, he probably never will, he was taking long.
When they departed he said "Farewell And Remember Me", though he knew that she had forgotten him already, it was a matter of formality, saying "Remember me", it wasn't like a beautiful woman giving you her goodbye, he only got a goodbye once, and he will never forget that, but times have changed, he will never get a goodbye, not from her, and he knows it, he knows it so well he doesn't even think it, but it's just that, it's saying goodbye and getting a smile, a smile and a wave, it's like getting a knee to the balls and a bite to the face, all the while smoking the tenth cigarette, the one that doesn’t mean anything, and makes you feel nothing, and yet is part of a complete cycle that must be completed around. It’s the cigarette that makes you want to quit. He once was told that there are two reasons for why people smoke - One is because they want to smoke, the other is because they want to quit. This is the tenth cigarette; it’s the essence of why he smokes.
“Damn” he thought, he didn't even remember to touch her neck, what a waste! and pushing the cigarette against the ashtray he ponders once again over what is more ironic; killing the girl that you