a first
i got home from physics-help (omgclareyoureadoll) to a silent, dark house.
Plunking down in front of the trusty internet, i let my soul be sucked in.
My stepdad wandered down about fifteen minutes later, wearing only pyjama bottoms and looking like he'd just woken up. "I didn't hear you come in," he said.
"That's cause I'm quiet like a ninja. Any idea where my mother is?" Her vehicle wasn't outside.
"Nope. Said she was comin home, and bringing supper. At five oclock." The computer says it's after ten.
Silence, for a moment, while we both think on this.
"Want to go to A&W and get some chicken?" he asks.
"Absolutely."
As a rule, the only person who talks on a ride with my stepfather is the K-Rock DJ.
Tonight, though, we actually stumbled through a conversation.
We get to A&W, through the drivethrough. Turns out they stop selling chicken at ten.
We sat there for a few minutes, again, digesting in silence (words, not bird)
Finally, he speaks.
"There's a Mary Brown's on fiftieth street."
"Word."
Off we go.
We get to Mary Brown's just as the chicken-monkey is locking up. I throw myself on my knees and claw at the glass like a dying man, but he just shakes his head no, pointing to the hours sign.
Getting back in, I say "how fuckin hard is it to get a fried chicken at ten oclock on a thursday?"
"I have no friggin idea. I know where there'a KFC, though."
We get to KFC. They're closing. We intercept a fried-slave in the parking lot, demanding he tell us where to score our chicken. He says there's a KFC on 50th street that's open till eleven. We let him go, because he's obviously affected by the Downs Syndrome - we just came from fifieth street, and there's no KFC.
The stepfather, however, knows where there's another one. Off we boogie.
And they're closed.
By this point, it's getting ridiculous, and after so many close calls, my body has begun to digest itself.
Stupid fuckin Pavlov.
We finally blast into Mill Woods, hitting a Wendy's drivethrough and ordering a metric tonne of food: Double Cheese burger, no pickle, with nacho-chili-cheese-fries-things, diet coke, and three chicken select strips; triple cheese burger combo with no onions, a sprite. and a kid's meal toy. The stepfather is adamant in this one, he doesn't care if there's an extra charge - he wants a goddamn toy.
All in all, this pointless excursion took us an hour. We talked the whole time.
I think I said more to him today than, honestly, in the past three years. It was craziness. I had fun, even though we were just chasing a feathered dream.
-ryjin
Plunking down in front of the trusty internet, i let my soul be sucked in.
My stepdad wandered down about fifteen minutes later, wearing only pyjama bottoms and looking like he'd just woken up. "I didn't hear you come in," he said.
"That's cause I'm quiet like a ninja. Any idea where my mother is?" Her vehicle wasn't outside.
"Nope. Said she was comin home, and bringing supper. At five oclock." The computer says it's after ten.
Silence, for a moment, while we both think on this.
"Want to go to A&W and get some chicken?" he asks.
"Absolutely."
As a rule, the only person who talks on a ride with my stepfather is the K-Rock DJ.
Tonight, though, we actually stumbled through a conversation.
We get to A&W, through the drivethrough. Turns out they stop selling chicken at ten.
We sat there for a few minutes, again, digesting in silence (words, not bird)
Finally, he speaks.
"There's a Mary Brown's on fiftieth street."
"Word."
Off we go.
We get to Mary Brown's just as the chicken-monkey is locking up. I throw myself on my knees and claw at the glass like a dying man, but he just shakes his head no, pointing to the hours sign.
Getting back in, I say "how fuckin hard is it to get a fried chicken at ten oclock on a thursday?"
"I have no friggin idea. I know where there'a KFC, though."
We get to KFC. They're closing. We intercept a fried-slave in the parking lot, demanding he tell us where to score our chicken. He says there's a KFC on 50th street that's open till eleven. We let him go, because he's obviously affected by the Downs Syndrome - we just came from fifieth street, and there's no KFC.
The stepfather, however, knows where there's another one. Off we boogie.
And they're closed.
By this point, it's getting ridiculous, and after so many close calls, my body has begun to digest itself.
Stupid fuckin Pavlov.
We finally blast into Mill Woods, hitting a Wendy's drivethrough and ordering a metric tonne of food: Double Cheese burger, no pickle, with nacho-chili-cheese-fries-things, diet coke, and three chicken select strips; triple cheese burger combo with no onions, a sprite. and a kid's meal toy. The stepfather is adamant in this one, he doesn't care if there's an extra charge - he wants a goddamn toy.
All in all, this pointless excursion took us an hour. We talked the whole time.
I think I said more to him today than, honestly, in the past three years. It was craziness. I had fun, even though we were just chasing a feathered dream.
-ryjin