I added another short story. This one is actually a chapter out of a novel I started for a creative writing class I took in college and never finished, but I think it works on its own and is pretty much what started the whole general idea of the novel, so it is now also a short story. Maybe someday I’ll get back to work on the novel.
Anywho, check it.
Once upon a time, in a land . . . just a land, well not just a land, it was a pretty great land, but still, not too much different than any other land, not very far away and certainly not very far far away, there lived a boy . . . far more than just a boy, this boy was most excellent and may or may not be the author of this story or in fact the author of this very website, this report can be neither confirmed nor denied. The remarkable thing about this particular boy was that he just completed a pretty long sentence used to introduce a story that he was sure was quickly becoming a run-on, but somehow managed to clear Word’s Nazi grammar gods. Seriously, how cool am I? . . . er, him.
This boy, we’ll call him Luke just for fun . . . it is after all a very good name and a name carried by some of the greatest characters and men from the greatest tales in history, literature, popular media, and websites . . . grew up on a fabulous street dubbed by only the most gifted city planners, Megan Place Drive. This street was in the great city of Houston, Texas and housed some of the greatest adventures of the modern age. It was here that young Luke would ghost ride his Huffy Sonic 6 (with 6 speed shifter stick placed strategically behind the sporty dust guard) into various targets assigned by his closest comrades. It was on this very street that young Luke would hone his rollerblading skills by jumping over tipped trashcans and playing street hockey. And it was from this street that young Luke, at the tender age of 19, would depart on a journey whose destiny only the gods could have foreseen.
As young Luke left his childhood home to begin his journey to adulthood, he carried the spirit of Megan Place Drive within him, sharing it with all the world. He took it with him to San Jose, CA as he talked about religion with the Hispanic people of the area while on a mission for his church. He took it with him to Northern Virginia, where his family moved while he was gone, and shared it with his co-workers as he wired houses as a residential electrician. It accompanied him as he returned to college in Utah and earned a degree in film. He brought it with him as he visited his family at their new home near Boston and cheered on the Red Sox during his first visit to Fenway Park. He even carried it within him as he moved to Las Vegas to try a career in video production.
By the time he reached Las Vegas, young Luke had all but forgotten about the times shared on Megan Place Drive, and its spirit was beginning to dwindle, but just as the last glimmer of his past began to fade, he moved to New York, and things began to come full circle.
His first night in town, young Luke accompanied his new roommate to an activity held at the house of some members of the local branch of his church. This particular activity was a movie night of sorts, where each guest was asked to bring one of their favorite clips from a movie. He chose the classic, Coolhand Luke, thinking that it was not only a great movie, but would also help these new acquaintances remember his name. He tucked the DVD in his back pocket and headed out the door.
As he entered the living room and crossed the viewing area to find a seat on the floor, a cute little voice called from the couch, “I love that movie, can we be friends?” (EDIT: I have been informed from a reliable source that her actual words were “I love that movie, we’re going to be best friends.” There was no question, she was simply informing him of the facts.) He looked over and discovered, at the source of this wonderful voice, a cute little almost redhead smiling playfully in his direction. He thought to himself, “Not only does she know what this movie is, but she loves it! I must know more, I may want to be more than friends,” and smiled sheepishly. He soon found out that this cute little almost redhead was called Megan, a name that seemed oddly familiar.
As the weeks went on, he happened upon this cute little Megan many times, sometimes by accident, sometimes on purpose, and even worked for her a few times at the food photography studio she manages. She fascinated him, and he found himself drawn to her more and more each time he saw her.
Soon they started dating, and had blast after blast on their weekly date night as they watched movies, visited the Kwik E Mart, and braved the wait at Justin Timberlake’s New York restaurant (best fried green tomatoes he ever had, but still not worth the 2 hour wait . . . they didn’t even have the fried pickles!). He found himself missing her more and more every time they were apart and knew he had fallen into deep smit. There was something about her that was just very familiar. Everything just seemed to fit. Then, on August 11, 2007, young Luke decided take the next step in his Hero’s journey.
He took her to the park nearby his house (Fort Tryon) for a picnic. They hung out for a few hours taking pictures and relaxing (She had her polaroid – pictures posted on her blog, and he had his 35mm which he would set on timer to take pictures of the both of them). They walked around for a while (there’s great views of the G.W. Bridge from that park) and eventually ended up in some secluded benches under some trees. He pulled out his camera again, set up a shot, took one picture, said he didn’t think he smiled, then went over to his bag saying something about filters or something. Then he put his bag over by the camera, pushed the button, grabbed a ring, got down on one knee, asked her to marry him and she said yes. They then waited a few seconds frozen in that pose until the camera clicked, thus immortalizing the moment he decided to live in Megan Place for the rest of his life.
. . . and they lived happily ever after.
THE END
A while ago I was talking to my friend, Cara, about “the game.” Apparently she’s really into this guy and has no idea if he’s into her. She’s not alone. I have many friends with the same problem. I’ve had the same problem. It’s just dumb.Why do people play this game? I have a few theories on this, and being somewhat removed from the game myself these days, I thought I’d write a little about it. But then Megan took me to the Kwik E Mart and I got distracted. She’s the bestest ever. Seriously. Best. Evar. But there will be more on her in a future post, I assure you.
After this brief expedition into the land of my greatest dreams which, unbeknownst to me, happened to be on 42nd St, I fulfilled my civic duty by exposing Megan to the comedic splendor that is the Kwik E Mart episode of The Simpsons, aptly entitled, “Homer and Apu.” It was during this amazing display of responsible citizenry that it occurred to me, “Homer and Apu” is an exact microcosm of the very game whose subject I had been discussing just days prior. This microcosm is the subject to which I will address the remainder of this little foray into writing to which you have just been subjected heretofore quid pro quo etcetera.
The episode starts off in the Kwik E Mart, as many episodes do, and some random customer is yelling at Apu for his outrageous prices. Sufficiently outraged, the customer then storms out of the store, smashing a Twinkie and throwing it on the ground on his way out. Apu trails after him, picks up the Twinkie, and shakes it out as he delivers the classic line, “Silly customer, you cannot hurt a Twinkie,” in typical Apu fashion. Apu then goes on to scratch out the expiration date on a package of deli meat and put it on the clearance rack.
Enter Homer. He goes straight for the cheap meat, eats it on the spot, and becomes deathly ill. But that doesn’t stop our friend Homer, he comes back to give Apu a piece of his mind. Apu counters with a bucket of free shrimp, also expired. Homer graciously accepts and graciously ends up back in the Hospital. This cycle continues for a while until Homer finally ends up on the couch in pain watching Kent Brockman expose some crook on the news. Lisa tells Homer to call Kent Brockman. He quickly finds himself in a sting operation involving an oversized novelty hat.
Apu is promptly exposed following standard Kwik E Mart protocol as he picks up a hot dog he dropped on the ground and places it directly back on the hot dog rolling rack (Let me pause for just a minute to say that the hot dog rolling rack is quite possibly one of the greatest inventions in the history of mankind, right behind the “continuously operational high volume frozen confection dispensing machine”, seriously I would get a hot dog rolling rack installed in my house if it was fiscally attainable). This seemingly harmless act is then plastered all over the news and Apu is promptly let go from his position in the prestigious Kwik E Mart establishment.
Apu quickly sees the err of his ways and goes to Homer to make things right. In one of the greatest moments in musical history, Apu then breaks into song proclaiming his liberation from the Kwik E Mart. The song ends with Apu on the roof and Homer and family eavesdropping as Apu delivers the iconic final line, “Who needs a Kwik E Mart? … I doooooo.” As Homer so aptly puts it, “He lied to us through song!” The rest of the episode is spent with Homer misguidedly trying to help Apu regain his status as the local Kwik E Mart representative.
This episode, my friends, is the dating game in a nutshell. It starts off with a little harmless flirting, a little give and take, as Homer and Apu go back and forth strengthening their bond as customer and retailer. This advancing relationship, however, is quickly becoming a harmful one, but there is nothing they can do about it. They are each simply fulfilling their respective roles in “the game.”
Apu is fulfilling his retailer role by supplying a hungry customer with food at the lowest cost to his store. Homer is fulfilling his customer role by buying up the cheap food to his stomach’s content. Neither is fully aware of the bond they are creating even if each secretly wants to see more and more of the other. In the “real” game, Either party initiates a flirt, and the other instinctively fulfills his or her role as the flirtee by flirting right back. They often continue on and on at this basic level, never showing any true feelings. The relationship quickly turns sour. Someone usually gets tired of it, or worse, sick.
Apu gets fired as a result of this unhealthy relationship, but does not want to hurt Homer by making Homer feel like it’s his fault Apu was fired. Apu even breaks into song, masking his true feelings in an effort not to scare Homer off, desiring at the very least to remain friends with the “flirtee” in their relationship. This is all a façade, which Homer quickly discovers on the rooftop. It is only upon this discovery that their relationship is allowed to truly flourish, and the courting process can begin.
I guess the point of all this blatant over-analyzation is to say: we need to stop it. We need to stop playing the games. We need to stop masking our feelings. Sure it’s safe, but it won’t get us anywhere. Flirting is fun, but there’s a lot of playful, meaningless flirting going on today. It tells people very little about our true feelings and is often misconstrued. I’m no relationship expert. I’ve only really had one meaningful relationship in my life, but I do know that there comes a point when flirting needs to move on to singing our true feelings on the rooftop for Homer to discover. No more lying through song. No more games.
Who needs the Kwik E Mart?
It was a warm, sunny, summer day in Boston. Megan, Jared, and I were enjoying a wonderful Italian meal in a quaint little restaurant in the north end. We finished our delicious dishes and were sitting, chatting, and enjoying the cool breeze coming in from the window when Megan received a text from one Becca Shim. Little did we know, that text would shape our fate for weeks to come.
It was a simple text, not too long, but it said much more than we read into it that day. Somehow, a cat had wandered into Megan’s house and sat perched upon the windowsill when Becca came home. At first, she thought it was outside, staring at her through the window, but alas, that was not the case. It was stationed between the window and the shade, just daring her to do something about it. Becca did not back down.
She quickly gathered the available troops, Holly and Christina, and laid out a game plan. Becca was to hold the shade and open windows, Holly was to grab the cat, and Christina was to document the whole process on video. The operation started without a hitch, but then Holly got a good look at the cat and became wary of picking it up. I wonder now if Holly knew more than she was telling us.
Becca and Holly switched roles and Becca quickly went to work soothing the cat. She talked to it gently, let it sniff her hand, pet it, then in one swift swoop, grabbed the cat and carried it across the room, down the hallway, into the bathroom, and out the window onto the lower roof in their backyard. The operation was a success … or so they thought.
Megan and I returned from Boston later the next day and watched the video documentation, laughing heartily at the escapades of her brave roommates. Congratulations and high-fives were handed out liberally and we all went about our day, laughing and playing gleefully in the park. Somehow, none of us felt the impending doom that was soon to come crashing down on us all. We had not seen the last of that cat.
The very next morning, as Megan was getting ready for work, she glanced over to see the cat staring at her through the window, sending shivers down her spine. Surely the cat should’ve pranced off into the wild by then, but there was not much she could do about it then as she whisked herself off to work.
Later that day at work, she contacted Becca via Gchat to inform her of the peeping tomcat (see what I did there? I’m a riot). They both began to worry, as girls sometimes do, about the health of this cat that they abandoned on the roof. Could it not get off? Had it eaten anything? Had they just killed the cat? Becca sprung into action and tried to feed it a can of tuna. The cat refused.
Becca then called the ASPCA to see if they would come get the cat. No dice. They could, however, bring it down themselves. Just put it in a box and bring it down they said. Piece of cake they said. They did not know what kind of cat they were dealing with.
Meanwhile, Megan hit me up on the Gchat and gave me the quick 411 on the situation at hand. Having just brought a van down from Boston that was parked on their street, I volunteered my services as an aid in feline extraction. They quickly took me up on my offer. I had no idea what I had just gotten into.
I jumped on the subway and headed down to the old Brownstone where Becca was waiting with an empty box. We went right to work. I hopped out the window onto the roof, petted the cat a few times and snatched it up, carrying it over to the empty box Becca had waiting at the window. She closed the flaps of the box and we headed to the van.
The cat had an extreme aversion to this box. They did not get along. As we were about to get in the van, it popped its head out one end as Becca tried to hold the flaps shut. I quickly grabbed some duct tape, put one finger on the cat’s head, pushed it slowly back into the box, and quickly sealed the box. We threw the box in the van and hightailed it on the ASPCA.
Things were going smoothly, except for the occasional meowing and scratching coming from the box, and we jumped on the FDR to head down to the ASPCA office on 110th. Just as we did so, I heard a faint, “Ummm….” coming from the passenger seat. I looked over to discover Becca with a panicked look on her face, holding the cat down with one hand. He had escaped the clutches of the duct tape and was very unhappy.
This is when we discovered the true origin of this cat. This was no ordinary cat. This cat was from a different world all together. This cat was the direct spawn of Satan and he sat, staring us down, meowing loudly, and foaming at the mouth as we headed down the FDR. Suddenly, the cat jumped up on Becca’s lap sending us both into a panic. She did her best to keep the drool hanging from the cat’s chin from getting anywhere near her. We came to a stop and I attempted to wipe the drool with a wet nap. That was a mistake.
The cat hissed, bared its claws, and jumped off Becca’s lap. There was nothing we could do, the cat from Hell was loose in the van, dripping drool wherever it went. We just shook our heads as we drove even faster towards the ASPCA, and just as we were coming to our exit, we looked to our right to see a shirtless man holding a half-eaten watermelon in one hand, and flexing the other arm as he stared down the oncoming traffic. The only explanation was a sign he had hanging behind him that read, “Men need two things in life, food and pussy.” We would have satisfied his second requirement if our resident pussy wasn’t possessed and running amok in the back of the van.
We pulled up to the ASPCA with a few new smells in the van and attempted to get the stupid cat back in the box. It refused quite rudely, and scratched Becca’s arm. As you can see, this cat had a very poor upbringing. We decided to throw in the towel and enlist the help of professionals. The cat sat defiantly on the recliner in the back of the van, smugly confident after its recent victory.
About half an hour later, someone from the ASPCA came out, snatched the cat in one fell swoop, and dropped it in a small cage like it was his day job. Becca and I just shook our heads as we jumped back in the van and headed home to assess the damage and clean what we could. The ASPCA named the cat “Tobey,” a very misleading name for a direct descendant of the devil himself. After all is said and done, I think I’m going to miss Tobey. He gave me my first true New York City experience. I am now ready to take on the world!
Here’s to you, Tobey, I hope you choke on your own spit.
The Adventures of Luke have begun, check out the Videos+ page to see Episode 1.