Average American Male (5 page)

Two hours later I’m more drunk than I wanted to be and Scarface’s lip doesn’t look abnormal to me at all. I don’t know if it’s because I’m drunk or because I’ve stared at it for so long that it just seems normal.

They shut down the bar and our whole group goes outside.

I look over and see Todd kissing Leslie Leonard, which makes me realize there must have been an entire part of the night that I somehow missed while I was staring at Scarface’s lip, which I’m still doing when it moves and she says, “So are you gonna give me your number or what?”

The alcohol and the hypnotic spell her lip has cast on me slow my mind to the point of not being able to produce a fake number. I give her my real one, not remembering even as I say it to find the strength to change a single digit.

Scarface gives me a hug and for the first time all night I notice her body, which is nice. Hard little tits and a flat stomach. I wonder if she works out at home or if she braves a public gym with her lip. I wonder if she gets a Jamba Juice after she works out like I do sometimes and I also wonder if she uses a straw or if she even has the ability to use a straw.

She hops in a car driven by one of the two sisters, as does Leslie Leonard, leaving Todd and me standing on the sidewalk. Todd says,

“Dude, that bitch gave me her number. She’s only in town for another four days and she gave me her number. It’s fucking on.”

I didn’t know at the time I decided to recognize her as Scarface if Todd did the same, but when he says, “So what happened with you and Scarface?” I realize he did. This also makes me realize that most guys’ default nickname for a bitch with any facial deformity is probably Scarface.

I say, “I think I gave her my number.”

“Holy shit. Your real number?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Dude, her face is fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You think she’ll call you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Holy shit.”

“I know.”

I’m Starting to Believe in Destiny

I’m in the Beverly Center pet store with my gay buddy, Carlos. We just finished our weekly lunch and he’s thinking about buying a dog.

There are two thirty-something flaming fags next to us also thinking about buying a dog. One of them is holding a baby pug.

Fag 1 says, “I just don’t know if I should get him. I mean, I’m leaving town for two months. What would I do?”

Fag 2 says, “I’ll watch him for you.”

Fag 1 says, “You would?”

Fag 2 says, “Of course. But he’s so expensive, are you sure you want to get him?”

Fag 1 looks at the price on his cage. He says, “Thirteen hundred.

That’s not too expensive for me.”

Fag 2 says, “Ooh, you’re so naughty.”

Then Fag 1 slaps Fag 2 on the ass and says, “You know it.”

Carlos nudges me and says, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

As we leave the pet store and head to EB Games, Carlos says, “I fucking hate fags who’re like that.”

“Like what?”

“You know, all flaunting their money and their asses in public. I mean, please, who wants to hear that you can waste thirteen hundred dollars on a fucking dog? And who doesn’t know that all homos have money because we have no women or children to suck us dry? And once you get out of college, who still slaps another guy on the ass? I need a fucking straight man who’s willing to just let me suck his dick and who’ll fuck me in the ass every once in a while without all the bullshit.”

He bats his eyelashes at me.

“As much as I like blow jobs, I only like ’em when they come with tits.”

“I’m not against implants.”

He laughs at his own joke as we walk into EB Games.

I walk to the back of the store and look through their rummage bin, which is usually filled with old Sega Genesis and Super Nintendo games.

I’ve been looking for a game called Super Populous since the eighth grade. In the game you play a god who controls a population of people. The computer plays a rival god controlling its own population. The object of each level is to raise your population to such a large number that it completely destroys the opposing god’s population. Each level takes roughly forty-five minutes to an hour to beat.

There are 999 levels. After its release in 1990, it was rated the worst game of the year by several gaming magazines. One even rated it the worst game ever made. As a result, no store carried it for more than a month after it was released. So I had resigned myself to renting it from the only video store in town that carried it in the hopes of one day beating it.

Over the course of several rentals, I had progressed to the eighty-seventh level. One weekend while trying to rent it again, I was notified that it had not been returned and was thought to be stolen.

Since that day I’ve looked in any and every used game section I’ve come across. I’ve looked on eBay, I’ve looked at garage sales, I’ve even flipped through the classified ads every once in a while in the hopes of finding a video game collection for sale. Now, in the upper left part of the bin, right on top of the pile in this particular EB Games, is Super Populous for $2.99.

I’m almost catatonic with disbelief. A quest that has consumed multiple years of my life has finally and unexpectedly ended.

“How’s that Tori Amos CD?”

Alyna Janson is standing in front of me holding a DS Lite.

“I actually haven’t listened to it yet.”

“I thought you were a big Tori fan.”

“Not that big.”

She looks at Super Populous in my hand. She says, “What’s that?”

“Super Populous.”

She doesn’t know what it is or that my holding it means the end of a fifteen-year search.

I say, “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime?”

“Sure.”

She takes a pen and paper out of her purse, writes down her number, and hands it to me. She says, “Here’s my number, give me a call and we can hash out the details.”

I take her number, put it in my back pocket, and say, “Okay.”

She walks up to the counter to buy the DS Lite. I assume she’s buying it for a brother or friend. She’s wearing a pair of tight jeans that make her ass look slightly better than I remembered it. I pretend to look through the used game bin some more so I don’t have to make eye contact with her again and possibly start up a clumsy and unnecessary conversation after just having successfully asked her on a date.

Carlos comes over to me and says, “Did you just ask that girl on a date?”

“Yeah.”

“You little fucker. Are you and Casey still together?”

“Yeah.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing?”

“I don’t really know.”

“You just saw some girl you wanted to fuck and asked her out or what?”

“No. I’ve seen her before. I saw her on a plane, and then I saw her in a record store. She sold me a CD. I constantly think about her.”

“I guess I’m not the one to be giving you a lecture on fidelity. God knows I’ve fucked around on half of West Hollywood. But you better be fucking careful. Shit like this always blows up in your face.”

I pay for Super Populous and we leave the Beverly Center.

When I get home I jerk off thinking about the possibility of fucking Alyna on our first date. I wonder if she’s ever fingered herself while thinking about me.

Scarface Part 2

I’ve been playing Halo 2 campaign mode for the past four hours on Legendary difficulty. I’m having trouble with the part where you have to pilot a Ghost around while a giant Covenant walker robot is deci-mating the city. The Covenant Ghosts do too much damage and there are too many of them. The phone rings. I answer it without stopping my game and hear a vaguely familiar lisp. It’s fucking Scarface, who begins the following conversation:

“I had a really good time meeting you and your friend Todd when we were all out the other night.”

“Uh-huh . . .”

“Did you?”

“Uh . . . sure.”

“Cool. So what are you up to right now?”

“Uh . . . I’m playing Halo.”

“Cool. What’s that?”

“A video game.”

“Cool. I love video games. I’m awesome at Tetris. You ever play Tetris?”

“Not really.”

I have a bead on an enemy Ghost and my plasma cannon is fully charged. Before I pull the trigger I pretend Scarface is piloting the Covenant ship. As I blow him out of the air, I see his body falling down to the ground below.

Scarface keeps talking, “Hey, what kind of music are you into?”

“Uh . . . all kinds, I guess.”

“Cool. Me too. I listen to pretty much everything.”

What must be forty-five seconds pass and all I hear on the other end of the phone is air blowing in and out through Scarface’s deformed lip. I try to ignore it as I mop up some more Covenant ships.

Then she says, “So do you date much?”

“Not too much.”

“Yeah, same here. But when you do go on dates, what kind of stuff do you like to do?”

“Eat, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s a really good thing to do on a date. Where do you like to eat?”

“I don’t know, depends on what I’m in the mood for that day.”

“Yeah, it totally does depend on that. Do you ever get in the mood for Italian food?”

“Uh . . . yeah, sure.”

“I love Italian food.”

There’s another long pause during which I’ve managed to land my severely damaged Ghost and pick up an entirely new one to continue fighting.

She says, “Maybe we could go get something to eat at that Italian place in the Grove sometime soon if you’re not busy.”

I do a dive roll to avoid a salvo of glowing plasma rounds from an enemy ship and then say, “Uh . . . I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Oh, oh, okay . . . cool. Well, I’ve got your number. Maybe I’ll give you a call some other time.”

Before I can say anything she hangs up and I find myself feeling genuinely bad for Scarface, bad enough to pause my game. I think for a few seconds about Scarface and how she must have similar conversations with guys all the time. I think about star-sixty-nining her and taking her up on the offer. She might be happy enough to have a date that she’d suck my dick or let me fuck her in the ass. I jerk off as I imagine her sucking my cock and I cum as I imagine blowing my load all over her deformed lip.

I use a paper towel from the kitchen to clean myself off and then unpause my game.

Plans

I make specific plans not to go to Casey’s house so I can call Alyna to set up our date. I’ve tried to prepare myself so I don’t sound like a retard on the phone, but when I dial the number she gave me at EB Games and Stevie answers, all my preparation dissolves. I immediately wonder why she gave me her work number instead of her home number.

I say, “Is Alyna there?”

Stevie asks, “Who’s calling?”

“A friend.”

Surprisingly, Stevie gives me no shit and gets Alyna. When she gets on the phone I want to ask her why she gave me her work number, but I decide not to push the issue. It’s not that relevant.

She says, “Hey, how’ve you been?”

I say, “Fine.”

“So where are you taking me?”

My call waiting beeps. I don’t want to answer it, but I can’t help myself. I say, “Can you hang on one second?”

“Okay.”

I switch over. It’s Casey. She wants me to come over despite the fact that we’ve already decided to not see each other tonight. I’m very quickly faced with the fact that to get her off the line with any expedi-ence, I have to promise to see her tonight. So I do. She says she loves me and I tell her I’ll see her tonight before hanging up on her and switching back over to Alyna.

I say, “Sorry about that. So what kind of food do you like?”

“All kinds. Why don’t you surprise me.”

“Okay.”

“And you can pick me up at eight-thirty on Friday night. That’s my night off.”

“Okay.”

Then she gives me her address.

“See you then.”

“Okay. See you then.”

“Bye.”

She hangs up before I can return the good-bye.

That night at Casey’s house, I purposely cum in her mouth while she’s giving me a standard foreplay blow job that should have led to sex. I don’t apologize.

A Call from Casey’s Mom

A few nights later I’m at Casey’s house. She promised me she was horny and if I got to her house as fast as I could, she’d be waiting for me naked on her bed. We haven’t fucked in a few days and she’s leaving town tomorrow, so I accepted her offer.

Casey’s lying on her bed, as she promised, but she’s fully clothed and talking to her mom on the phone. Occasionally I can hear Casey say one of the following things: “I don’t know. How am I supposed to know? I guess. No, you’re right. I never thought about it like that. I will.”

I’m sitting on her couch watching an old episode of Who’s the Boss in which Tony Danza gets pursued by his overly aggressive high school girlfriend who just wants to have a fling for old time’s sake. And although Tony really wants to fuck her, he can’t stop thinking about Angela.

Who’s the Boss ends and Casey’s still on the phone. I find nothing to eat in her refrigerator, then go to the bathroom to piss.

When I lift up the toilet lid there’s already piss in the bowl, and I’m reminded that in an effort to conserve water Casey never flushes after she pisses. There’s something slightly unsettling about my piss mixing with her piss. When I flush I hear Casey say, “Only if it’s brown.”

I ignore her and go back to the living room, where I settle in for an episode of Family Ties in which Michael J. Fox takes amphetamines so he can study for a test without knowing the serious harm he could be doing to himself. It’s just getting to the part that they use in the opening credits where a speed-wired Michael J. Fox slides across the floor in a rolling chair, when Casey steps right in front of the TV.

I try to look around her, but Michael J. Fox has already rolled across the floor. I missed it.

I notice she’s not talking on the phone anymore when she says,

“Sorry. She called right after I called you.”

“That’s okay.”