Car-ma
I don't do a whole lot before going to school tonight, but I still end up leaving late cause I wanted to take a shower before going. Before I take the shower I stick my head out the door of Nanny's part of the house and watch the leaves sweep furiously off the trees under a dark gray sky. Behind me, Nanny says to be careful. I tell her that if speeding somehow increases my chances of running the car into a tornado, I'll go ninety-five. She chuckles and tells me that the car can't go ninety-five but that I'm welcome to try.
I set the computer up next to the shower on impulse, knowing that I won't need it for class so it's alright to let the battery run out. I put In Amber Clad on replay and make sure that it's far enough away not to get wet. Which I'll have you know is farther than usual because B broke the god damn shower door again and the second half of the door can only close seventy-five percent of the way, so one part of the rug keeps getting wet.
Sometimes while in the shower I worry about one day waking up so fat that I can no longer see my penis, which will seriously have an effect on masturbation since I have such a good-looking penis.
By the time I'm ready to leave it's seventeen minutes until class and I can't find my keys. I check the bathroom, my pants pockets, the bed, under the crumpled sheets on the bed, my gay little booktable beside the bed, my desk, my car, the couch, the cubby hole (tre times) and the kitchen table. I end up using the spare key I'm keep in the arm rest of the car.
The ride to school is uneventful, of course, but I spent too long showering and end up going seventy-five in a fifty-five on a road that's much darker than I wanted it to be. Given the choice, I would like a perpetual state of heavy, dark, threateningly gray clouds which suddenly and only on occasion give way to an hour of dusk, three hours of sunshine and a clear blue sky with a crisp breeze, one hour and forty-five minutes of night (unless you're in the city, then switch the hours for day and night), one hour of dawn and fifteen minutes of nuclear dawn just to give you that ominous, oppressive feeling that makes you appreciate the gray clouds when they return. And cause a thick red sky would dominate.
Coming into the second section of the school parking lot I swerve the car too far through a puddle and it hydroplanes or fishtails, I can't remember which. Luckily I'm alone, five minutes late for class already.
When I get to the room everyone is still waiting for me and the last two thirds of Basic Instinct.
After the interrogation scene I'm stuck on pussy and the movie plays on without me. I start going over all the porn I've downloaded recently and I wonder who exactly started the tradition of putting inanimate objects into a woman's vagina. When did it start? I remember when my sister and I were creating a village we got a lot of our mom's research books and I think it was RC who found the pictures of ancient dildos, not me. So it started a long time ago, fine. And dildos are one thing, that's to get the girl off without the male element, that's groovy. But what about fists and beer bottles and Grampa Juniper's urn? Why?
Who's turned on by it more, the girls with that shit inside of them or the men who put them there? My guess is the men and the women just put up with it, but it might be a joint effort or maybe girls are genuinely curious as to what they can fit in there.
I don't remember when exactly, but at some point I'm thinking about losing my keys in a strange woman's pussy and I realize that if I didn't bring my keys with me and the only key that I have is the one for the ignition, then it would be a really bad idea for me to lock the car. Which I then remember is exactly what I did.
I quietly get up and leave the room. Go out to the parking lot. Check my pockets and the car. It's locked. I don't have my cell phone, so I can't call anyone.
I'm reminded of locking my keys in the car at the Huddle House back in August, when a family man and a resourceful negro trucker boy helped me unlock my car by unscrewing the antenna off the front and sticking it through the door, then pushing the unlock button from the outside. It takes me at least five minutes to unscrew the antenna and after another ten of trying to stick it into the door while trying the pull it open far enough to fit it in, I give up and go back to class and ask Pierce for his cell phone.
It now occurs to me that I don't remember my grandparents' phone number. Nor do I remember B's in his part of the house. I call the store but of course, no one's there. It's closed for the day. I go to Student Development and ask if they have forms on me.
The secretary, a fat little woman with a mean disposition gives me a look. "What do you mean, forms?"
I tell her that I mean to ask if they have my records.
"I don't know," she answers snobbishly, "you'll have to ask someone else."
I ask her who I should ask and she silently points the room behind her.
It turns out to be the office of the good-natured colored fella who helped me in the beginning of the summer term.
I ask him for my records and he says he needs to know my social security number.
(I DON'T FUCKING REMEMBER IT! I'VE HAD THIS THING MEMORIZED ALL YEAR AND I DON'T FUCKING REMEMBER IT NOW! BLOODY COCKHOLE!)
I give him the last four digits and he says that's good enough. He brings up my record and I ask if there's a number I placed there in case of emergency. He looks at me strangely but gives me the number. It's one I've never heard of before and it dawns on me that B must've filled out the form. The number doesn't work. I ask if there are any other numbers.
He frowns, leans back in his chair with his fingers laced across his belly and says, "Boy, reckons to me you ain't right right now, nowha mean?"
At the expression on my face he adds, "You havin' some kinda mergency?"
I tell him that I'm just trying to make sure that the numbers on the form work, minutes later making my escape after I receive a stern talking to about wasting people's time. On the way out of Student Development the fat bitch at the front scowls at me.
After ten consecutive wrong numbers I give the phone back to Pierce. He's clearly shocked at how many minutes I've taken off his phone so I know better than to ask for it again. I sit and watch the rest of Basic Instinct and try to get lost in the movie, but the only options available to me keep ringing through my head:
A.) I could sit on the car and wait for the next day, Thanksgiving, when the Grans and B realize that I'm not home and they could come to check if I died at school.
B.) I could ask Pierce for a ride home with his folks.
C.) It's only twenty miles, I could walk on the side of the highway.
D.) Break the car window.
I know I'm not going to try walking that far, paying for the window would kill my chances of finishing school and after asking Pierce it's clear that he wouldn't mind but that his parents wouldn't do it, so I'm on my own and it looks as if I'll be spending Thanksgiving on the top of my car unless I go with option
E.) Look for a cop.
Basic Instinct finishes and it occurs to me that I dislike the ending a lot less now. They're about to play a Jonathan Taylor Thomas movie, so I leave.
I go back out into a now heavy rain and try to stick the antenna through the door again. No luck, though I do manage to slit the webbing of my hand on the antenna, making a bloody messy of the window.
Finally, with about an hour left of class, it occurs to me while I'm soaking wet that Nanny and Pa might be listed in a phone book.
I dash to the reception, slipping and spraining my ankle on the floor on the way in, pirouetting while cartwheeling my arms and doing a fully spectacular three-sixty before slamming my jaw onto the floor.
Amazingly I didn't lose any teeth. I look up and see the receptionist looking down at me with genuine fear in her eyes. I get to my feet and ask her if she has a phone book but my words are garbled by the blood in my mouth.
I ask again and she quickly disappears beneath the desk, coming up with a listing for Rockingham. I need one for Laurinburg but if I say anything else I think she's going to call the police.
I go out to the pay phone and notice that it actually has a phone book attached to it. Duh. At first there appears to be no listing for Laurinburg. I flip through the book, look under each part of the tri-county area and they're not listed. Right before I give up hope and I spy a very, very thing section midway through the book. Laurinburg. Nanny and Pa have a listing, as does the Benefactor.
I have no interest in getting bitched at by Pa so I intend to call B. Until I realize I have no change, only a ten dollar bill Nanny gave me cause she's not making pork chops tonight and she wants me to get something healthy to eat.
Wet and bloody, I limp back to class and, in an effort to get Pierce away from the phone in his backpack I inform Miss Ryals that I think Pierce might have something to do with some of the offensive graffiti that's been sprayed on the side of the Administration Building. She knows him almost as well as I do and she thinks it's ludicrous, so I tell her that she should just talk to him about it. She doesn't fall for it and I'm left with telling Pierce that I think I saw his Dad out in the parking lot waiting impatiently. He curses and runs out.
By the time Pierce gets back, bewildered and pissed off, B is on his way with my keys and his phone is back in his backpack and I've also managed to "borrow" Pierce's copy of Akira which just happens to have been in his backpack along with the phone.
On the way out of class I slip on the sprained ankle and crack my head against a water fountain. You should feel the cut.
My car is warm on the way home, even with the windows open. A tattered piece of rubber I cut the shit out of with the antenna flaps in the wind.
I set the computer up next to the shower on impulse, knowing that I won't need it for class so it's alright to let the battery run out. I put In Amber Clad on replay and make sure that it's far enough away not to get wet. Which I'll have you know is farther than usual because B broke the god damn shower door again and the second half of the door can only close seventy-five percent of the way, so one part of the rug keeps getting wet.
Sometimes while in the shower I worry about one day waking up so fat that I can no longer see my penis, which will seriously have an effect on masturbation since I have such a good-looking penis.
By the time I'm ready to leave it's seventeen minutes until class and I can't find my keys. I check the bathroom, my pants pockets, the bed, under the crumpled sheets on the bed, my gay little booktable beside the bed, my desk, my car, the couch, the cubby hole (tre times) and the kitchen table. I end up using the spare key I'm keep in the arm rest of the car.
The ride to school is uneventful, of course, but I spent too long showering and end up going seventy-five in a fifty-five on a road that's much darker than I wanted it to be. Given the choice, I would like a perpetual state of heavy, dark, threateningly gray clouds which suddenly and only on occasion give way to an hour of dusk, three hours of sunshine and a clear blue sky with a crisp breeze, one hour and forty-five minutes of night (unless you're in the city, then switch the hours for day and night), one hour of dawn and fifteen minutes of nuclear dawn just to give you that ominous, oppressive feeling that makes you appreciate the gray clouds when they return. And cause a thick red sky would dominate.
Coming into the second section of the school parking lot I swerve the car too far through a puddle and it hydroplanes or fishtails, I can't remember which. Luckily I'm alone, five minutes late for class already.
When I get to the room everyone is still waiting for me and the last two thirds of Basic Instinct.
After the interrogation scene I'm stuck on pussy and the movie plays on without me. I start going over all the porn I've downloaded recently and I wonder who exactly started the tradition of putting inanimate objects into a woman's vagina. When did it start? I remember when my sister and I were creating a village we got a lot of our mom's research books and I think it was RC who found the pictures of ancient dildos, not me. So it started a long time ago, fine. And dildos are one thing, that's to get the girl off without the male element, that's groovy. But what about fists and beer bottles and Grampa Juniper's urn? Why?
Who's turned on by it more, the girls with that shit inside of them or the men who put them there? My guess is the men and the women just put up with it, but it might be a joint effort or maybe girls are genuinely curious as to what they can fit in there.
I don't remember when exactly, but at some point I'm thinking about losing my keys in a strange woman's pussy and I realize that if I didn't bring my keys with me and the only key that I have is the one for the ignition, then it would be a really bad idea for me to lock the car. Which I then remember is exactly what I did.
I quietly get up and leave the room. Go out to the parking lot. Check my pockets and the car. It's locked. I don't have my cell phone, so I can't call anyone.
I'm reminded of locking my keys in the car at the Huddle House back in August, when a family man and a resourceful negro trucker boy helped me unlock my car by unscrewing the antenna off the front and sticking it through the door, then pushing the unlock button from the outside. It takes me at least five minutes to unscrew the antenna and after another ten of trying to stick it into the door while trying the pull it open far enough to fit it in, I give up and go back to class and ask Pierce for his cell phone.
It now occurs to me that I don't remember my grandparents' phone number. Nor do I remember B's in his part of the house. I call the store but of course, no one's there. It's closed for the day. I go to Student Development and ask if they have forms on me.
The secretary, a fat little woman with a mean disposition gives me a look. "What do you mean, forms?"
I tell her that I mean to ask if they have my records.
"I don't know," she answers snobbishly, "you'll have to ask someone else."
I ask her who I should ask and she silently points the room behind her.
It turns out to be the office of the good-natured colored fella who helped me in the beginning of the summer term.
I ask him for my records and he says he needs to know my social security number.
(I DON'T FUCKING REMEMBER IT! I'VE HAD THIS THING MEMORIZED ALL YEAR AND I DON'T FUCKING REMEMBER IT NOW! BLOODY COCKHOLE!)
I give him the last four digits and he says that's good enough. He brings up my record and I ask if there's a number I placed there in case of emergency. He looks at me strangely but gives me the number. It's one I've never heard of before and it dawns on me that B must've filled out the form. The number doesn't work. I ask if there are any other numbers.
He frowns, leans back in his chair with his fingers laced across his belly and says, "Boy, reckons to me you ain't right right now, nowha mean?"
At the expression on my face he adds, "You havin' some kinda mergency?"
I tell him that I'm just trying to make sure that the numbers on the form work, minutes later making my escape after I receive a stern talking to about wasting people's time. On the way out of Student Development the fat bitch at the front scowls at me.
After ten consecutive wrong numbers I give the phone back to Pierce. He's clearly shocked at how many minutes I've taken off his phone so I know better than to ask for it again. I sit and watch the rest of Basic Instinct and try to get lost in the movie, but the only options available to me keep ringing through my head:
A.) I could sit on the car and wait for the next day, Thanksgiving, when the Grans and B realize that I'm not home and they could come to check if I died at school.
B.) I could ask Pierce for a ride home with his folks.
C.) It's only twenty miles, I could walk on the side of the highway.
D.) Break the car window.
I know I'm not going to try walking that far, paying for the window would kill my chances of finishing school and after asking Pierce it's clear that he wouldn't mind but that his parents wouldn't do it, so I'm on my own and it looks as if I'll be spending Thanksgiving on the top of my car unless I go with option
E.) Look for a cop.
Basic Instinct finishes and it occurs to me that I dislike the ending a lot less now. They're about to play a Jonathan Taylor Thomas movie, so I leave.
I go back out into a now heavy rain and try to stick the antenna through the door again. No luck, though I do manage to slit the webbing of my hand on the antenna, making a bloody messy of the window.
Finally, with about an hour left of class, it occurs to me while I'm soaking wet that Nanny and Pa might be listed in a phone book.
I dash to the reception, slipping and spraining my ankle on the floor on the way in, pirouetting while cartwheeling my arms and doing a fully spectacular three-sixty before slamming my jaw onto the floor.
Amazingly I didn't lose any teeth. I look up and see the receptionist looking down at me with genuine fear in her eyes. I get to my feet and ask her if she has a phone book but my words are garbled by the blood in my mouth.
I ask again and she quickly disappears beneath the desk, coming up with a listing for Rockingham. I need one for Laurinburg but if I say anything else I think she's going to call the police.
I go out to the pay phone and notice that it actually has a phone book attached to it. Duh. At first there appears to be no listing for Laurinburg. I flip through the book, look under each part of the tri-county area and they're not listed. Right before I give up hope and I spy a very, very thing section midway through the book. Laurinburg. Nanny and Pa have a listing, as does the Benefactor.
I have no interest in getting bitched at by Pa so I intend to call B. Until I realize I have no change, only a ten dollar bill Nanny gave me cause she's not making pork chops tonight and she wants me to get something healthy to eat.
Wet and bloody, I limp back to class and, in an effort to get Pierce away from the phone in his backpack I inform Miss Ryals that I think Pierce might have something to do with some of the offensive graffiti that's been sprayed on the side of the Administration Building. She knows him almost as well as I do and she thinks it's ludicrous, so I tell her that she should just talk to him about it. She doesn't fall for it and I'm left with telling Pierce that I think I saw his Dad out in the parking lot waiting impatiently. He curses and runs out.
By the time Pierce gets back, bewildered and pissed off, B is on his way with my keys and his phone is back in his backpack and I've also managed to "borrow" Pierce's copy of Akira which just happens to have been in his backpack along with the phone.
On the way out of class I slip on the sprained ankle and crack my head against a water fountain. You should feel the cut.
My car is warm on the way home, even with the windows open. A tattered piece of rubber I cut the shit out of with the antenna flaps in the wind.