Huge Effin Entry - Part 1
Okay! So today i was inspired to write. & MAN did i write. The entry was too long to fit all into one, so this chapter's got 2 parts!
Enjoy <3
Title: Scene Change - That Fucker Kissed Me - Part 1
Rating: borderline PG 13
Summary: Joel & Benji finally have a conversation. Joel & Beni Kiss. Benji Is A Dick. Read to find out why haha.
Dislaimer: This didn't happen.
Notes: This one is for metalhead_00, because she commented amazingly on the last entry (:
Prologue: Benji, Prologue: Joel, No Lies, Just Love , Failed Attempts, Joel is Gay & Benji Gets A Job
“Look at that faggot just standin’ there all laughy and shit, flailing his arms about.”
“Ha ha ha ha, what a douche.”
“Seriously man, he should just get the fuck out.”
I listen to Silas and Joe talk shit about that Joel dude. I hate it when guys need to bash somebody else to make themselves feel manlier. Actually I hate it when anyone does that. It’s such a turn-off.
Plus it doesn’t help that I’m still hiding in the closet.
I feel like such a loser.
The only reason I hang out with these guys is because they let me. They accept me because we dress the same, and have the same musical tastes.
But they aren’t real friends. Chances are they’ll never be. I know that if I came out to any of them I’d get socked in the jaw. Accused of being in love with one of them or something…
Yeah, cause I’d for sure consider going out with any of their homophobic asses.
However, I hate being a loner so it’s these guys or nothing.
Their only winning attribute besides good taste in bands is that they can get me an endless supply of cigs and weed without me having to pay much. Not that I smoke pot often, I just need the nicotine, but still…
“Hey Kid, can I jack some of those?” I see Silas pointing to the fries I got from the caf. -my only food. What a dick.
“Knock yourself out,” I reply unenthusiastically as I shove them in his direction.
I hate Silas. He’s such a fuckin’ ‘punk’ that it’s almost as if he’s acting. He has a red Mohawk with a septum piercing and about 6 ear piercings. He wears his studded leather jacket and combat boots everyday like he’s got something to prove. He mouths off to anybody he disagrees with, and intimidates all of his so-called friends.
Joe, Lucas, Mark and Janie - probably all of them would be more respectful if Silas didn’t act like such a mean fucker. They all know that if they stand up for the opposite of his opinion, he’ll get all ape shit on them.
“Yo, we should all just kick the tar out of him one day man. Maybe it’ll make him straight… Bah aha ha ha!”
Jesus Christ. Just 2 more months till graduation. Just 2 more…
I see Joel and his blond friend - Chad? - walk over near our table, and I look at Silas.
He looks like he’s gonna massacre someone with that evil expression.
I gaze back at Joel to see him not even paying attention to where he’s moving because he’s chatting with Chad still - then my peripheral vision notices Silas moving. He puts his leg directly stretched out in the way of Joel’s path.
The next thing you hear is a big THUD.
And then: obnoxious, fucktart laughter.
I glare at Silas. Yeah, making someone deliberately fall down is the centerfold of funny.
Joel quickly gets up, clearly embarrassed, and then catches my eye. I look at him with my unimpressed expression and he turns a deep red.
“Eh, fuck you Silas,” says Chad angrily. He clenches his fist, but Joel grabs his arm.
“Chet, no. It’s not worth it.” Chet. That’s what his name is.
“But man, he’s been a prick to you every day since-”
“I know. Some people are just close-minded fucks. Now let’s go.” He grabs Chet’s shirt collar and starts walking away.
Silas shoots them a fierce look.
“Die Faggot!” he yells, then sticks up his middle finger at Joel.
God, one day I’m seriously gonna deck this guy in favour of Gay Rights.
The truth is, I actually have a lot of respect for that Joel kid, even though I’d never admit it out loud. It takes extreme balls to just announce suddenly to everyone in your school that you’re a homo. He actually got up during Music & shyly announced to everyone before class ended that he was gay. I remember him saying that he hoped nobody’s opinions would change too much of him. Which is clearly not the case of certain individuals…
That kind of courage almost made me want to come out until I saw Silas’s reaction to it. As I recall he very politely said: “Boys, we got ourselves a faggot”.
It’s been almost 3 weeks, and he’s still fuckin’ harassing this kid. I wish that Joel would just say something snarky back to Silas, or even cuff him, instead of always taking the high road all the time. Or maybe I just want to cut Silas up too much: he deserves it.
Still, it’s kinda too bad that I won’t be stepping onto the stage for a while. Joel isn’t a bad looking kid, and he plays guitar pretty damn well. Almost as good as I do. He’s definitely someone I’d like to get to know better. Plus, he was nice to me on that first day that I came…
Dammit, if I was nice to him we’d probably be friends instead of me hanging with this crowd. I blew him off, and ruined my chances of having the possibility of real friends. Oh, fuck me.
“Did you see? The look on his face when he got up? He looked like a fuckin’ lobster…”
Still? He’s still laughing about the misfortune of the innocent. While stuffing his face with my lunch…
“I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” I announce in exasperation.
Nobody gives me a second look as exit through the back doors.
*****************************
I hear the click of heaven, and see the flame start to emit. Then light my cigarette.
I can’t believe how weak I am. I was trying to quit for real this time.
I lasted about: 17 hours.
It’s a horrible habit, I know. In the future it’ll give me wrinkles and yellow teeth.
EW. Eww. Oh, and shittly lungs too I guess.
But I can’t stop. I started 2 year ago when I was first in denial about my sexuality and have been hooked ever since.
My non-smoker friends always try to make me quit. While I secretly feel flattered that they are concerned about my well-being, they just don’t understand. The calming sensation I feel when I take the first drag: no other remedy beats it. Indescribable.
God, I sound like a drug addict.
I’m just so sick of fucking Silas & his crew. I knew that not everyone would be tolerant and understanding. But I didn’t think that things would get abusive. It’s horrible to think that for the rest of my life people are going to judge me because of my personal choices.
When I apply for a job, for any kind of position, the word “HOMOSEXUAL” will be hanging in bold letters over my head. I know that decisions will be influenced based on that factor as well. But I’m not the only gay guy out there. I should stop complaining.
Still, it feels like I’m the only one…
Out of the corner of my eye I see someone crossing the street towards me. A fellow smoker no doubt. Students are prohibited to smoke on school property, so everyone that wants to must venture across the road to ‘O-Street’.
O-Street, or Ottawa Street, is what the smoker (pot & ciggy’s) crowd nicknamed this avenue. How original, eh? The smokers hang outside at lunch here every day. I usually come out for a smoke and chat them up, but ever since I came out, they all stare at me oddly. I avoid them now: You don’t want to get on their bad side.
I just stand further down the street, opposite to the student parking lot.
I look over to who’s walking towards me, and almost drop my cigarette.
It’s Benji.
Fuck.
He looks over at me, widens his eyes a bit, and stays where he is: about 3 meters away.
I hate to confess this, but I still have a thing for him. I loathe myself for liking such a person. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself he’s not as bad as you would think at first glance: my conscious mind convinces me otherwise...
He hangs out with Silas, so obviously he’s not gay. Worse than that, if he hangs out with such a group, he probably hates my guts because of my sexual preference. And finally, he was a jerk to me on that first day. Maybe he was jut shy or having a bad morning, but still. I made the effort right? And he just, he just shot me down. He’s an ass.
But I’d be lying if I said that he still wasn’t one of the most good looking boys I’d ever laid my sights upon. Not to mention he is a damn straight kick ass guitarist…
Oh lord: kill me. Stab me through the ribs.
He looks SO fuckin’ hot with a cigarette in his mouth.
Why? Why of all the places did he choose here to stand. I know that the ‘smoker’s and the ‘punks’ don’t get along regularly, but couldn’t he have chosen a place farther away from me, instead of slowly torturing me with those lips of his?
I try to stealthily gaze at him: he’s having trouble with his little crappy Bic lighter.
I hate those. My lighter was given to me as a present from my older brother, Sean. Shaped like a Zippo, it has a Union Jack imprinted all over it. The album art from the Sex Pistols God Save the Queen is imprinted just below where you flip it open. It rocks.
Now the internal battle begins as I see how upset he’s getting. He’s cursing at his lighter now. I want to go over there; I want to quote, ‘help a brother out!’. Or just close enough to examine him…
Aw, It’s so cute how frustrated he is. Not so cute that I really want to go over & suck on his lip piercing. Dammit, now that’s all I picture. STOP MENTAL-IMAGING BRAIN.
Okay, well what’s the worse that can happen if I offer him up some lightage? Yelling to get the hell away? Punching me in the face? Ow, actually.
Screw that, I should just stand here & mind my own business.
But apparently, my feet have plans of their own. Before my sanity, not to mention dignity, has a chance to take over, I’m holding out my lighter saying:
“You’re probably out of butane. You want to borrow mine?” He contemplates me for a second trying to decide what to do, while I stand there like a jackass.
Hesitantly, he reaches over, then grasps it. “Uh, thanks.”
I can’t look at him directly without lust eyes or blushing, so staring at the disgusting pavement I reply,
“You’re welcome.”
No. NO. That’s what a kid says. A normal teenage boy says ‘No Worries’ or ‘No Problem’ or grunts or something.
He lights up and hands it back, examining it while he does.
“Sick lighter…”
He says this with his eyebrows raised, and trails off. He says it almost like it’s a huge surprise that I’d even know a punk band like Sex Pistols, like I’m not worthy of it or something. He’s probably right. I’m so lame.
“Thanks.” Wow, riveting Joel.
Now we are silent. Greaaaat, it’s an awkward one too. Just standing there, sucking on ash while cars faintly pass by.
Then suddenly, he says something that nearly knocks me over:
“I’m sorry if you got hurt when you fell. Silas is such a dumbfuck sometimes.” I gape at him, while he simply stares straight ahead, as if wondering to himself.
“I, um, Th-that’s. Okay? It’s not your fault. You didn’t knock me over. If anyone wants to apologize it should be him” I garble out my incoherent words.
“Maybe so, but it’s not as if any of us stood up to him & told him he was in the wrong. Especially if we thought so. I didn’t think it was a particularly nice action, and just stood by while he was disrespectful, so for that I apologize.”
Wow. That’s so - nice. I was so wrong about him. YES!!!
I give him a winning smile, “Apology most definitely accepted. And, it is hard to stand up to someone tougher than you, especially in favor of another person. Don’t worry about it. I basically knew what the outcome would be of, um, coming out. Not everyone is going to like you.” he looks at me and my happy grin for a second, as if searching for something. Then turns away, almost puzzled.
“But, can I ask you a question, uh Benji?” I almost whisper the question. He jerks his head at me, all ears.
“If you don’t like what Silas and etc.’s actions are, then why are you friends with them?”
He opens his mouth up quickly to reply, then shuts it. I watch him as he inhales his last long drag, and then blows outward while flicking his butt onto the road.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looks down then up at me:
“I don’t know.”
That’s all the answer I get, because he jaywalks back in the direction of the school.
What a weird conversation…
/////////////
“So Joel, my man! Are you going to come on over & visit your hombre today?”
“Nah, I can’t Andre, sorry. My mom has some contractors coming over to remodel our kitchen.”
“But, why does that include you!?” he whines.
“Cause she is leaving for work basically as soon as the construction crew gets here. She wants me to hold onto the check until they leave. I have to inspect them so they don’t ‘make any imperfections’.” I roll my eyes.
The woman is seriously paranoid about that particular room.
“Oh, maldicion. Well, call me when you are finito hombre, and I shall come over & make your Mum love me even more by complimenting on how splendid it has become.”
“Ha ha, okay spaz case. See ya.”
“Adios”
I put the phone on the receiver and slump down on my bed. Today will be so boring.
I check my watch: 10:47 am.
They should’ve been here 17 -
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Oh.
I listen as I hear my noisy door open, then my moms ‘Gracious Host’ voice. There’s polite laughter then:
“Joel! Come and meet the builders!” Sigh.
I amble slowly down the staircase to my mom. I walk beside her as she’s apologizing to them.
“…Sorry that I have to work a weekend shift. The clinic is really busy this time of the year. Spring fever and all,” She rambles until she notices me.
“Oh, Joel! This is Pete, Dave and Gordon.” They simultaneously greet me with nods.
“Oh, I’m running late! Joel, show them in. Thank you so much again!”
I never realize how ditzy my mom is until company comes over. I never realized how much I’m like her until company comes over.
“It’s our pleasure, ma’am.” Gordon replies.
“Bye now!” She leaves.
“Ummm, so the kitchen is in through here,” I walk them to it. “So, yeah. Do you need anything more? Do you uh, want a drink or something?”
Dave stares at me, while Peter shakes his head smiling.
“Well, actually we’re going to take the fridge out, maybe plug it into the living room for now. Maybe after we’ve actually done some work son, then we’ll be thirstin’ for some beverage,” Gordon says. Oh yeah. They didn’t do anything yet.
“So…what are you working on today?” I’m probably really annoying, but I don’t want them to think I’m some dick kid who think of them as nothing.
“Well, basically, we’re gonna tear up this joint.” Pete tells me.
“Now where’s the kid with the hammers, the drills and other equipment?”
‘The kid?’, I wonder.
“Dunno. I don’t know why he’s taking so long to-”
He doesn’t get to finish his phrase as the front door has been slammed open.
And as fate would have it, in walks none other than Benji Combs, hands full of working equipment.
“Benji!?!?”
He looks at me, and then drops all of the gear in his arms.
Enjoy <3
Title: Scene Change - That Fucker Kissed Me - Part 1
Rating: borderline PG 13
Summary: Joel & Benji finally have a conversation. Joel & Beni Kiss. Benji Is A Dick. Read to find out why haha.
Dislaimer: This didn't happen.
Notes: This one is for metalhead_00, because she commented amazingly on the last entry (:
Prologue: Benji, Prologue: Joel, No Lies, Just Love , Failed Attempts, Joel is Gay & Benji Gets A Job
“Look at that faggot just standin’ there all laughy and shit, flailing his arms about.”
“Ha ha ha ha, what a douche.”
“Seriously man, he should just get the fuck out.”
I listen to Silas and Joe talk shit about that Joel dude. I hate it when guys need to bash somebody else to make themselves feel manlier. Actually I hate it when anyone does that. It’s such a turn-off.
Plus it doesn’t help that I’m still hiding in the closet.
I feel like such a loser.
The only reason I hang out with these guys is because they let me. They accept me because we dress the same, and have the same musical tastes.
But they aren’t real friends. Chances are they’ll never be. I know that if I came out to any of them I’d get socked in the jaw. Accused of being in love with one of them or something…
Yeah, cause I’d for sure consider going out with any of their homophobic asses.
However, I hate being a loner so it’s these guys or nothing.
Their only winning attribute besides good taste in bands is that they can get me an endless supply of cigs and weed without me having to pay much. Not that I smoke pot often, I just need the nicotine, but still…
“Hey Kid, can I jack some of those?” I see Silas pointing to the fries I got from the caf. -my only food. What a dick.
“Knock yourself out,” I reply unenthusiastically as I shove them in his direction.
I hate Silas. He’s such a fuckin’ ‘punk’ that it’s almost as if he’s acting. He has a red Mohawk with a septum piercing and about 6 ear piercings. He wears his studded leather jacket and combat boots everyday like he’s got something to prove. He mouths off to anybody he disagrees with, and intimidates all of his so-called friends.
Joe, Lucas, Mark and Janie - probably all of them would be more respectful if Silas didn’t act like such a mean fucker. They all know that if they stand up for the opposite of his opinion, he’ll get all ape shit on them.
“Yo, we should all just kick the tar out of him one day man. Maybe it’ll make him straight… Bah aha ha ha!”
Jesus Christ. Just 2 more months till graduation. Just 2 more…
I see Joel and his blond friend - Chad? - walk over near our table, and I look at Silas.
He looks like he’s gonna massacre someone with that evil expression.
I gaze back at Joel to see him not even paying attention to where he’s moving because he’s chatting with Chad still - then my peripheral vision notices Silas moving. He puts his leg directly stretched out in the way of Joel’s path.
The next thing you hear is a big THUD.
And then: obnoxious, fucktart laughter.
I glare at Silas. Yeah, making someone deliberately fall down is the centerfold of funny.
Joel quickly gets up, clearly embarrassed, and then catches my eye. I look at him with my unimpressed expression and he turns a deep red.
“Eh, fuck you Silas,” says Chad angrily. He clenches his fist, but Joel grabs his arm.
“Chet, no. It’s not worth it.” Chet. That’s what his name is.
“But man, he’s been a prick to you every day since-”
“I know. Some people are just close-minded fucks. Now let’s go.” He grabs Chet’s shirt collar and starts walking away.
Silas shoots them a fierce look.
“Die Faggot!” he yells, then sticks up his middle finger at Joel.
God, one day I’m seriously gonna deck this guy in favour of Gay Rights.
The truth is, I actually have a lot of respect for that Joel kid, even though I’d never admit it out loud. It takes extreme balls to just announce suddenly to everyone in your school that you’re a homo. He actually got up during Music & shyly announced to everyone before class ended that he was gay. I remember him saying that he hoped nobody’s opinions would change too much of him. Which is clearly not the case of certain individuals…
That kind of courage almost made me want to come out until I saw Silas’s reaction to it. As I recall he very politely said: “Boys, we got ourselves a faggot”.
It’s been almost 3 weeks, and he’s still fuckin’ harassing this kid. I wish that Joel would just say something snarky back to Silas, or even cuff him, instead of always taking the high road all the time. Or maybe I just want to cut Silas up too much: he deserves it.
Still, it’s kinda too bad that I won’t be stepping onto the stage for a while. Joel isn’t a bad looking kid, and he plays guitar pretty damn well. Almost as good as I do. He’s definitely someone I’d like to get to know better. Plus, he was nice to me on that first day that I came…
Dammit, if I was nice to him we’d probably be friends instead of me hanging with this crowd. I blew him off, and ruined my chances of having the possibility of real friends. Oh, fuck me.
“Did you see? The look on his face when he got up? He looked like a fuckin’ lobster…”
Still? He’s still laughing about the misfortune of the innocent. While stuffing his face with my lunch…
“I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” I announce in exasperation.
Nobody gives me a second look as exit through the back doors.
*****************************
I hear the click of heaven, and see the flame start to emit. Then light my cigarette.
I can’t believe how weak I am. I was trying to quit for real this time.
I lasted about: 17 hours.
It’s a horrible habit, I know. In the future it’ll give me wrinkles and yellow teeth.
EW. Eww. Oh, and shittly lungs too I guess.
But I can’t stop. I started 2 year ago when I was first in denial about my sexuality and have been hooked ever since.
My non-smoker friends always try to make me quit. While I secretly feel flattered that they are concerned about my well-being, they just don’t understand. The calming sensation I feel when I take the first drag: no other remedy beats it. Indescribable.
God, I sound like a drug addict.
I’m just so sick of fucking Silas & his crew. I knew that not everyone would be tolerant and understanding. But I didn’t think that things would get abusive. It’s horrible to think that for the rest of my life people are going to judge me because of my personal choices.
When I apply for a job, for any kind of position, the word “HOMOSEXUAL” will be hanging in bold letters over my head. I know that decisions will be influenced based on that factor as well. But I’m not the only gay guy out there. I should stop complaining.
Still, it feels like I’m the only one…
Out of the corner of my eye I see someone crossing the street towards me. A fellow smoker no doubt. Students are prohibited to smoke on school property, so everyone that wants to must venture across the road to ‘O-Street’.
O-Street, or Ottawa Street, is what the smoker (pot & ciggy’s) crowd nicknamed this avenue. How original, eh? The smokers hang outside at lunch here every day. I usually come out for a smoke and chat them up, but ever since I came out, they all stare at me oddly. I avoid them now: You don’t want to get on their bad side.
I just stand further down the street, opposite to the student parking lot.
I look over to who’s walking towards me, and almost drop my cigarette.
It’s Benji.
Fuck.
He looks over at me, widens his eyes a bit, and stays where he is: about 3 meters away.
I hate to confess this, but I still have a thing for him. I loathe myself for liking such a person. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself he’s not as bad as you would think at first glance: my conscious mind convinces me otherwise...
He hangs out with Silas, so obviously he’s not gay. Worse than that, if he hangs out with such a group, he probably hates my guts because of my sexual preference. And finally, he was a jerk to me on that first day. Maybe he was jut shy or having a bad morning, but still. I made the effort right? And he just, he just shot me down. He’s an ass.
But I’d be lying if I said that he still wasn’t one of the most good looking boys I’d ever laid my sights upon. Not to mention he is a damn straight kick ass guitarist…
Oh lord: kill me. Stab me through the ribs.
He looks SO fuckin’ hot with a cigarette in his mouth.
Why? Why of all the places did he choose here to stand. I know that the ‘smoker’s and the ‘punks’ don’t get along regularly, but couldn’t he have chosen a place farther away from me, instead of slowly torturing me with those lips of his?
I try to stealthily gaze at him: he’s having trouble with his little crappy Bic lighter.
I hate those. My lighter was given to me as a present from my older brother, Sean. Shaped like a Zippo, it has a Union Jack imprinted all over it. The album art from the Sex Pistols God Save the Queen is imprinted just below where you flip it open. It rocks.
Now the internal battle begins as I see how upset he’s getting. He’s cursing at his lighter now. I want to go over there; I want to quote, ‘help a brother out!’. Or just close enough to examine him…
Aw, It’s so cute how frustrated he is. Not so cute that I really want to go over & suck on his lip piercing. Dammit, now that’s all I picture. STOP MENTAL-IMAGING BRAIN.
Okay, well what’s the worse that can happen if I offer him up some lightage? Yelling to get the hell away? Punching me in the face? Ow, actually.
Screw that, I should just stand here & mind my own business.
But apparently, my feet have plans of their own. Before my sanity, not to mention dignity, has a chance to take over, I’m holding out my lighter saying:
“You’re probably out of butane. You want to borrow mine?” He contemplates me for a second trying to decide what to do, while I stand there like a jackass.
Hesitantly, he reaches over, then grasps it. “Uh, thanks.”
I can’t look at him directly without lust eyes or blushing, so staring at the disgusting pavement I reply,
“You’re welcome.”
No. NO. That’s what a kid says. A normal teenage boy says ‘No Worries’ or ‘No Problem’ or grunts or something.
He lights up and hands it back, examining it while he does.
“Sick lighter…”
He says this with his eyebrows raised, and trails off. He says it almost like it’s a huge surprise that I’d even know a punk band like Sex Pistols, like I’m not worthy of it or something. He’s probably right. I’m so lame.
“Thanks.” Wow, riveting Joel.
Now we are silent. Greaaaat, it’s an awkward one too. Just standing there, sucking on ash while cars faintly pass by.
Then suddenly, he says something that nearly knocks me over:
“I’m sorry if you got hurt when you fell. Silas is such a dumbfuck sometimes.” I gape at him, while he simply stares straight ahead, as if wondering to himself.
“I, um, Th-that’s. Okay? It’s not your fault. You didn’t knock me over. If anyone wants to apologize it should be him” I garble out my incoherent words.
“Maybe so, but it’s not as if any of us stood up to him & told him he was in the wrong. Especially if we thought so. I didn’t think it was a particularly nice action, and just stood by while he was disrespectful, so for that I apologize.”
Wow. That’s so - nice. I was so wrong about him. YES!!!
I give him a winning smile, “Apology most definitely accepted. And, it is hard to stand up to someone tougher than you, especially in favor of another person. Don’t worry about it. I basically knew what the outcome would be of, um, coming out. Not everyone is going to like you.” he looks at me and my happy grin for a second, as if searching for something. Then turns away, almost puzzled.
“But, can I ask you a question, uh Benji?” I almost whisper the question. He jerks his head at me, all ears.
“If you don’t like what Silas and etc.’s actions are, then why are you friends with them?”
He opens his mouth up quickly to reply, then shuts it. I watch him as he inhales his last long drag, and then blows outward while flicking his butt onto the road.
Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looks down then up at me:
“I don’t know.”
That’s all the answer I get, because he jaywalks back in the direction of the school.
What a weird conversation…
/////////////
“So Joel, my man! Are you going to come on over & visit your hombre today?”
“Nah, I can’t Andre, sorry. My mom has some contractors coming over to remodel our kitchen.”
“But, why does that include you!?” he whines.
“Cause she is leaving for work basically as soon as the construction crew gets here. She wants me to hold onto the check until they leave. I have to inspect them so they don’t ‘make any imperfections’.” I roll my eyes.
The woman is seriously paranoid about that particular room.
“Oh, maldicion. Well, call me when you are finito hombre, and I shall come over & make your Mum love me even more by complimenting on how splendid it has become.”
“Ha ha, okay spaz case. See ya.”
“Adios”
I put the phone on the receiver and slump down on my bed. Today will be so boring.
I check my watch: 10:47 am.
They should’ve been here 17 -
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Oh.
I listen as I hear my noisy door open, then my moms ‘Gracious Host’ voice. There’s polite laughter then:
“Joel! Come and meet the builders!” Sigh.
I amble slowly down the staircase to my mom. I walk beside her as she’s apologizing to them.
“…Sorry that I have to work a weekend shift. The clinic is really busy this time of the year. Spring fever and all,” She rambles until she notices me.
“Oh, Joel! This is Pete, Dave and Gordon.” They simultaneously greet me with nods.
“Oh, I’m running late! Joel, show them in. Thank you so much again!”
I never realize how ditzy my mom is until company comes over. I never realized how much I’m like her until company comes over.
“It’s our pleasure, ma’am.” Gordon replies.
“Bye now!” She leaves.
“Ummm, so the kitchen is in through here,” I walk them to it. “So, yeah. Do you need anything more? Do you uh, want a drink or something?”
Dave stares at me, while Peter shakes his head smiling.
“Well, actually we’re going to take the fridge out, maybe plug it into the living room for now. Maybe after we’ve actually done some work son, then we’ll be thirstin’ for some beverage,” Gordon says. Oh yeah. They didn’t do anything yet.
“So…what are you working on today?” I’m probably really annoying, but I don’t want them to think I’m some dick kid who think of them as nothing.
“Well, basically, we’re gonna tear up this joint.” Pete tells me.
“Now where’s the kid with the hammers, the drills and other equipment?”
‘The kid?’, I wonder.
“Dunno. I don’t know why he’s taking so long to-”
He doesn’t get to finish his phrase as the front door has been slammed open.
And as fate would have it, in walks none other than Benji Combs, hands full of working equipment.
“Benji!?!?”
He looks at me, and then drops all of the gear in his arms.