R/T/M (20 page)

     I didn’t bother following up on cowgirl.   I’ve never had any luck picking up waitresses.   They get it from all sides every day and now all of the staff know who the fuck I am and whatever.   Maybe that’s just my rationalization for chickening out but whatever,
she probably has a boyfriend anyway.

     Halloween has always been my favorite time of year as long as I can remember.

     I got a job doing character make-up at this haunted house theme park.

     It was a pretty fucking big deal and there was a whole crew of make-up people and when we finished doing everyone’s make-up we had to make each other up and fill in for whoever bagged out that night.   The chick from the ‘pit and the pendulum’ scene calls out?   One of us had to go under the blade.   The clown house is missing an emcee?   One of the make-up crew was king clown for the night.

     More often than not it was cool, but sometimes it sucked.

     One night they needed a Dead Elvis.   The Dead Elvis had to stand outside the port-a-johns and make sure no one fucking vandalized them.   Get it?   Elvis died on the toilet.   Dead Elvis.   Port-a-johns.   Right.   Not exactly fucking hilarious.   More like a bad pun.   I knew that gig was gonna suck but I took one for the team.   I split the gig with a girl that was done up like a 1950 style girl-gang zombie.   You know, in a pink satin jacket and whatnot.   The dude that did my make-up sucked and people kept asking me if I was Evel Kneivel.

     The girl-gang outfit had a miniskirt and the chick was cold so I let her sidle up to me and mooch heat.

     We got to talking and she tells me she plays keyboard in, like, a horror rock band and I start to dig her and later on somehow we’re talking sex and she’s like, wondering why more guys don’t want to bang her in the ass because she really doesn’t mind it, in fact sometimes she likes it, and I figure it’s on and I’m in.

     The night ends and we decide to go back to my place.   We stop at a gas station to get cigarettes and she doesn’t have cash and they don’
t take credit unless you spend, like, $20, so I buy her a pack and she kisses me long and hard on the mouth and I get a semi and I figure this is going to be a pretty cool night.

     We get back to my place and we’re still wearing our fucking monster make-up and she asks if she can take a shower and I say sure and give her a towel
.

     She steps out of her shoes
then takes off all of her clothes and goes into the bathroom and the shower runs and I figure I am so getting laid tonight.

     She comes out and she’s naked and drying her hair with the towel and she asks me if she can borrow a t-shirt.   I give her my Shogun Assassin t-shirt and she puts it on and passes
me off the towel and I go in and take a shower.

     When I come back, she’s watching Evil Dead and I compliment her choice and she says she’s never seen it and I tell her she’s culturally retarded.   I put on some loose sweatpants and I get into bed with her and we watch the movie and make out a little and I discover that her clit has a big old fucking bar pierced through it and it’s got square ends like dice and I don’t know what to do with it because I don’t want to accidentally fucking hurt her and she jerks me off a little
but we don’t make a big deal out of it and when the movie’s over we just fall asleep with me spooning her.

     The next day we wake up and we just hang out in the basement in our jammies all day.   We watch, like, a dozen horror movies and we play with each other on and off.   She puts me in her mouth, but she’s got a tongue piercing that matches her clit piercing and the cube is really
fucking distracting and I can’t make it so she gives up and she keeps on twisting around so I can’t get my fingers into her or get on top of her and it’s kind of fun but kind of frustrating.

     She says she wants someone to pretend to break into her house and rape her.   My immediate reaction is that it’s a great idea.   But then I think about the logistics and it doesn’t seem like such a good idea.   She lives with her parents and what if they decide to come home from work early or stay home sick or what if
the neighbors see me standing outside of the house cutting open a window screen in a fucking ski mask and they decide to call the cops.   That would probably require a little bit of explaining, so I tell her I’ll think about it, when I’ve already made up my mind.

     The third day I’m just frustrated and I’m kind of getting sick of her and I’ve already seen all of my horror movies that she’s watching and I’m being kind of sullen so I just smoke a lot and find shit to do around the house.   Her tits are kind of floppy and I’m sick of looking at them and they’re fucking pierced too and I’m pissed off that she’s got metal shot through all of her erogenous zones and I imagine she’s like some kind of cyborg killer prostitute and it makes me laugh to myself and she asks me what’s so funny and I just sigh and say, “Oh, nothing.”
but I really want to just put knives in her eyes or hit her over the head with the crowbar or just choke the shit out of her and dump her into the septic tank with the other one but everyone knows we took off together and it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to lead the cops back to me when she shows up missing and since I was on payroll all they’d have to do is look me up in the database and the whole jig would be up.   Cops would be all over the place with fucking corpse sniffing dogs and I’d probably get murdered before I ever saw trial.

     That night is a haunt night so I drop her off at her house and I go to work at the haunt and we don’t work together and I just kind of avoid her and she ends up going out with the brother of the guy that runs the place and they’re all ove
r each other, like all the time, and it kind of sucked.   Not that I was jealous, but it just wasn’t something that I wanted to see.

     I’m good and angry and I want to take it out on someone like right now.

     Back when I had a LiveJournal I subscribed to all sorts of random chicks.

     LiveJournal wasn’t the best way to meet chicks.

     It was kind of a pain in the ass and most of the new girls you added were friends of girls that were already inter-subscribed so it was tough to run game without word getting around like high school gossip.

     Right before I dropped my LiveJournal for good due to complications which arose when I tried to fuck my girlfriend’s friend…

     Well, she was asking for it.   The friend that is.   We’d hang out and get drunk and she’d tell me that her boyfriend didn’t fuck her like a real man and she wanted to be fucked for real and then she’d look me in the eyes and I figured she meant me.   Then the next day I send her a message to follow up like to make plans to come over and really put the spurs to her and she makes like she was all drunk and didn’t know what she was saying and rats me out to her friend, the girlfriend.

     Fucking cooz
e.

     Anyway, right before I deleted my LiveJournal I added some random chick from Texas.

     I liked her icon picture so I figured why not?

     She didn’t get back to me and I deleted my LiveJournal, but she found me on MySpace and told me she had been away on a cruise for, like, a month, which was why she hadn’t added me, but she had wanted to add me so she found me on MySpace.

     So we stay in touch over the internet.

     She reads my blog and I read hers.

     She’s in and out of relationships and I am too.

     I get a job where I’m sitting at a desk a lot and I have a computer with the internet so I set up an AOL IM account and she and I message back and forth and sometimes the chat gets a little sexy.   A little dirty.   But it’s not like there was anyone looking over my shoulder so what the fuck who cares?

     She had a webcam and she’d send me little sexy pictures.   She was really cute and flirty and sexy and if she didn’t live so far away we could have a really good time.

     We traded numbers and she’s call me on the phone and sometimes it was fun and sometimes it was annoying.   Sometimes she’d whine about how we should be together and how she’d move to where I lived or how I should move to where she lived so we could be together.   Other times she’d talk me into doing phone sex for her and she’d masturbate while I told her what I’d do to her if I ever got ahold of her.   She wanted me to jerk off at the same time, but although I did get hard thinking about what I’d do to her I could never really get into jerking off with a phone held up to my ear.

     I got a webcam and we’d send pictures back and forth.   She kept trying to set it up so we could, like, videoconference and interact, but the technology sucked and it never worked and always just ended up being a waste of time and effort that was just frustrating and pissed me off.

     Over time she gets around to asking me if I want to marry her and I said I would, but only in Vegas by an Elvis impersonator.   And I would have too.   I figured getting married wouldn’t really fuck anything up and then I’d just make her get a divorce and then I’d be divorced which would be kind of cool in a jaded sort of way.

     She gets it into her mind that she really wants to meet me in person so we make plans for her to come up and stay with me for a week or so.

     The first time she’s got a boyfriend that she’s playing break-up make-up with and he convinces her that I just want to fuck her and talks her out of coming up.

     Granted it’s true, but I don’t let her know that and I’m pissed off because I paid for the plane ticket and took a week off of work and when I cancel the flight the fucking plane company won’t refund my ticket.   Instead they offer me credit, but only in the name of the person the ticket was for, and I figure there’s no way that I’m buying another plane ticket for this cunt so I tell the lady on the phone to forget about the credit and to go fuck herself and that I’m never using their services again,

     A month later the girl calls me up and she’s all tearful apologies and she says she wants to come up for real this time and I tell her to get her own fucking ticket.

     She asks me if I’d be willing to pay for half the ticket.

     I figure I might as well.   I’m not happy about it, but since her LiveJournal days she had gone on to be a Suicide Girl and I figured there won’t be a lot of chances for me to fuck one of them in this lifetime.
   So I tell her I’ll pay for half of the ticket and she says she’s going to book the flight.

     I don’t care.   Or at least I try not to care, expecting her to get cold feet and bail out every day.

     She calls me every night and keeps me on the phone for hours until she falls asleep.

     She’s got some pretty heavy anxiety problems and takes Klonopin to fall asleep and she keeps me on the phone until she gets all groggy and slurry and then she says, “Night.” out of the blue and clicks off.

     It’s kind of annoying, but kind of cute and I have to put up with it if I want her to come up and play for a few days so I just shrug it off.

     So the day comes when she’s supposed to get on the plane and I expect her not to get on the plane and to call me and tell me she chickened out.   And then when she doesn’t, I don’t expect her to be on the plane or to get off the plane when it arrives.   I figure it’s all an experimental exercise in phenomenology for me.   If I pretend that she doesn’t exist and that she’s not coming, then if and when she does appear I will be surprised.

     So I drive down to the airport and I figure out where her plane is supposed to disgorge its passengers.   And there are sporadic trickles of groups of people and I’m trying to figure out which one is her and the suspense is fucking killing me.   And then there’s this little girl that looks like she’s twelve all in black with black rolling luggage and she looks at me and smiles and I realize it’s her.

     I get up to meet her at the bottom of the escalator and she puts out her hand and introduces herself all formal like and when I
put my hand out and shake hers and give her a wry look she busts out laughing and tries to do this judo move where you hold someone’s hand and then quickly twist underneath it and it flips the person onto the floor, but I sense it coming and she just flexes against my wrist and doesn’t go anywhere and she sort of laughs and says, “Okay.   Let’s go.”

     I’m, like, a foot taller than her and I could do curls with this girl and I feel kind of creepy picking up this chick that looks wicked younger than me who I’ve been talking sexy with for, like, ten years.

     We go out to my car and I toss her luggage in the backseat and I get on the highway.

     We go to a restaurant and we get dinner.   She’s pretty fussy about what food she eats so we end up at a Friendly’s and she gets a veggie quesadilla and I get an appetizer sampler and we make small talk about her flight and about how she bailed out the first time and I didn’t really think she was coming this time and she’s really argumentative and sensitive about my mentioning that and I say that if she just came up here to argue with me then I can go right back to the airport and drop her off and let her figure it out on her own.   I’m in no mood to take any bullshit from this girl, especially after I had to eat the cost for that first plane ticket.   She doesn’t apologize, but she does stop getting all worked up and argumentative and uses the excuse that travel really stresses her out and she warned me that she was a handful.

     Like that’s any excuse.

     So we get out of the restaurant and we go back to my house and she looks around the place and she drops her luggage
in the middle of the floor and takes her coat off and drops it on top of her luggage and just sort of walks around and checks out all of the stuff in my room like it’s a museum or an art installation and she’s not talking to me or interacting with me and I’m beginning to get a little annoyed so I just fucking leave her to it and go upstairs and open the fridge and take out a bottle of root beer and I picture the lid of the septic tank under moonlight in my mind’s eye.

     I finish the root beer and wash out the bottle and flip it over and put it in the draining rack and go back through the door to the basement and down the stairs.

     I get to the bottom of the stairs and she’s sitting on the edge of the foot of the bed and just sort of staring at me and grinning and it’s really kind of disconcerting,

     She gets up and I figure she’s gonna come up and hug me or something, but instead she goes to her bag and unzips it and starts rifling through it, so I just leave her to it and go sit on my bed and grab my wireless keyboard/mouse and open up my virtual jukebox and start up my Bjork/Portishead/Depeche Mode/ Massive Attack playlist.   I know she loves Danzig and The Misfits, but that would be pandering, and I’m in no mood to play little fucking schoolgirl games with her.

     She stops rummaging and stands up and looks over at me with that goofy fucking grin and says, “I brought something for you.” and stands there waiting.   For what, I don’t know.   So I say, “Okay.” and shimmy over and sit on the edge of the bed and she gets down on one knee and fishes around in her bag and pulls out a big lump of black cloth and then she hides whatever it is behind her back and walks over on her knees so she’s kneeling in front of me and grinning that goofy grin.