JoshEpstein Joanna Scott
..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />11/29/06 Creative Writing- Fiction
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Jack woke up to the sound of his mother pounding on his bedroom door. His alarm clock read 1:58 pm, a full two minutes before it was set to go off. Too long to just lay here and not long enough to go back to sleep he thought to himself bitterly. Great. Already in a foul mood, he swung his legs over the bed and rubbed his eyes. The room gradually came into focus as he pushed his feet into the overly soft carpet, only to be answered by a muffled squeak. Startled, Jack looked down to see his friend Vincent sleeping on the floor. Vincent had made himself so common at Jack's house, this summer especially, that he sometimes forgot whether he slept over or not.
"Shit…sorry man."
"Fuck you dude." Vincent said sleepily, pulling blankets over his head.
Vincent contemplated getting up and out of his own make-shift bed as Jack exited the room and began to argue with his mother about the virtues of early to bed and early to rise. The door provided no dampening to the sounds of their heated words, so Vincent was privy to everything said.
"We were just about to get up! The alarm was set and everything!"
"It is a sad day for humanity when a boy has to set his alarm for two in the afternoon!"
Vincent laughed quietly to himself as he listened to the exchange. At the beginning of his friendship with Jack, the family would try to avoid exposing him to such behavior. But Vincent soon made himself so common at Jack's house, this summer especially, that they no longer bothered to stifle their arguments around him. This was less a testament of his closeness to the family, and more indicative of their lack of control. At first, these outbursts scared Vincent into a state of silent disbelief. But, after a time he noticed that most of their squabbling ended in laughter rather then slammed doors or resolution. He soon surmised that they weren't due to any real anger or deep-seated hatred, just a love of argument.
Vincent's decision to get up was made all the easier by the escalating voices and the music now blaring in his ear. After trying in vain to silence the alarm, he too left the room and found that, sure enough, Jack and his mother were smiling at one another.
"…Couldn't turn it off" Vincent told them, a single eye closed against the relative brightness of the hallway. Jack sighed and walked back into his room, as his mother greeted Vincent and, in the true fashion of a Jewish mother, invited him to eat some breakfast. Victorious, Jack emerged and came into the kitchen.
"It smells like a wolf's den in there…" Jack said sitting down. "How were you unable to turn the stupid thing off?"
"I don't know, but good choice of music there buddy, I know I like to wake up to the country station." Vincent found early on that when Jack was like this, the best defense was a good offense.
"Hey, it scares me awake. Now give me Life before I take yours!"
Smiling, Vincent passed the box and asked why his alarm was set in the first place. Jack poured the cereal and explained, yet again, that they were going to Wal-mart to get a few school supplies.
"But it's so early!' Vincent said, mouth full of bagel and lox. "We have a while 'till we leave for school."
"Haven't you ever heard of supply and demand?" Jack asked between spoonfuls. "Now there isn't much demand, so there won't be much price either."
"Which is good because you don't have much money." Jack's mother said, reentering the kitchen, lightly swatting him on the head. "You should really get a job for the rest of the summer. Why don't you apply at the Wal-mart? It's just been converted into a super store and they've always had a 'Help Wanted' sign up."
"Shows how well they treat their employees." Jack scoffed. "Plus who's gonna hire me for a month?"
"The same people who'll hire a boy who sleeps until two. No one!"
They finished their meals and arguments and took turns showering and getting dressed. When they were ready to go, they said good bye to Jack's mother and began to leave. On the way to the garage was the computer room where Jack's father was currently enjoying the wonders of the internet. "Drive safely!" he called as they passed.
"I'm never gonna drive safely, and you can't goddamn make me!" Jack yelled back slamming the door. The furious retort neither startled nor angered his father, as this was part of a game the two of them had played consistently since Jack got his license the year before. His father settled back in his chair, smile on his lips, confident that his son was wearing the same. And in fact, he was. Vincent on the other hand, looked horrified.
"I will never understand you and your dad."
In Jack's estimation, the decision to drive safely was made long before stepping out of the door. Simply instructing someone so wasn't going to make them obey the speed limit and buckle up any more than reading the signs would. Upon hearing the words "drive safely!" no broken connection would snap shut in someone's brain and suddenly cause them to not screech around corners or peal out of parking lots. He explained all of this to Vincent on the way.
The last time they had gone to Wal-mart, there had been a small strip mall and a bank in the complex. Now, nothing but the Wal-mart stood, which looked to have tripled in size. It was as if it had grabbed and swallowed up everything in its vicinity, adding their mass and volume to its own. Distracted by the sheer bulk of this mega-mart monstrosity, it took them some time to register that the sign had been changed. The yellow happy face shown gargantuan, the words "Super Center" now splayed across it in a flowing hand.
The renovations were part of an effort to develop their small town and attract people from the surrounding cities. Neither of them were very happy about it, as it just meant more crowding. Evidently the town's efforts had paid off; the parking lot was filled with the movement, confusion and exhaust of a thousand cars. Annoyed, Jack had to search for a parking spot, and finally found one in the very back of the lot. They got out of the car and began the long walk to the front door.
"You know, every time my family goes to one of these places my dad says the same thing," Vincent said, smiling. "He always tells us, loudly, that 'We are the best looking ones in here!' I mean, I agree with him, but I really don't think it's much to be proud of, given the competition." He gestured towards a pod of customers, clothing pulled taught against their sagging bodies.
Although the title wasn't fiercely held, it did carry a certain weight, as they were a good looking pair. Vincent's long hair was cast out behind him in the parking lot wind, so dark a brown it appeared black on first inspection. It rested over a slim face of pronounced cheek bones and dark eyes, its skin the color of weak mocha which betrayed his Puerto Rican heritage. Vincent may have been handsome and dark, but he fell rather short of tall. His svelte frame only reached a height of 5'6, but had the lean, quietly powerful look of a runner or swimmer and moved with the grace of either. This was the result of many hours of karate classes forced on him by his parents.
Walking next to him, Jack stood just a hair taller then his friend, a very un-intimidating 5'6 and a half. However, he looked to be the shorter one due to his comparatively squat frame. This was accentuated by the clothing he wore. His t-shirt clung tightly and, though he wouldn't admit it, purposefully to his broad and somewhat well developed chest and shoulders, the product of infrequent visits to the gym. His hair was a caramel color cropped short and close to his head and his slightly sunken eyes were a deep blue green. He walked a naturally fast paced gait that usually caused people walking with him to have to rush to keep up. This never ceased to amuse Jack and annoy everyone else around him. Vincent was no exception, but he kept it up until they reached the automatic doors of the store.
As they walked into the football field sized forest of florescent lights and fashion faux pas, there was a greeter to welcome them, or at least in theory. At the moment he was perched upon his stool asleep. Jack grinned.
"…Not nearly as perky as the greeters in the commercials." He said tsking, "Why, I have half a mind to get the manager about this. It's false advertising!"
"Oh come on, look at him, he's obviously here from the community outreach program, leave him alone." Vincent knew Jack didn't really care; He was just trying to amuse himself. But it was true; the greeter did look like the type who would only be hired to fill a quota. The wrinkles cris-crossing his pale face were deep and numerous, so much so that it looked as if it were once a marble bust; shattered and meticulously pieced back together. A small torrent of drool flowed from his mouth and into one of the most pronounced furrows, as if the skin had been eroded away over time by the liquid. The spittle followed this conduit to his chin where it slid down the loose folds of his neck and collected in a light grey splotch on his undershirt. The ever-present happy-faced button was missing however, replaced by a reddish-brown ring encircling the stain.
Saddened and slightly disturbed by the pathetic image, Vincent turned away and started to walk deeper into the store. Jack hurried, for once, to catch up and began to list all of the things he needed to buy. This mainly consisted of specialized pens, pencils and notebooks which Jack, for reasons unbeknownst to Vincent or anyone else for that matter, couldn't do without. He wouldn't write with or on anything else. Jack's obsessive habits usually caused a feeling of exasperated amusement in Vincent, but at the moment something else was welling up instead. He announced he had to go to the bathroom, told Jack he would find him later, and they both went off in search of their goals.
When he finally found the bathroom, Vincent was reaching critical mass. Luckily, the restroom occupied the same place it had before the building conversion, so it didn't take very long to find. He pushed open the door and surveyed the area. There were two urinals side by side, but someone was already using one. With no plastic guard to protect from roving eyes, Vincent turned instead to the stalls. He wasn't about to break the sacred rules of urinal etiquette and, as Winston Churchill and Larry David have said before him, "Why stand when you can sit?" Besides, although he only intended to urinate, who knew what the next five minutes would bring? Vincent selected the Handicapped stall, the "Cadillac" of bathroom stalls in Jack's opinion, and sat down. He entertained himself for a time by reading the messaged in his tiny cubical: Various declarations of love and hatred, scrawled across the walls in blue or black ink. Punctuated by anatomically correct yet horribly disproportioned drawings of women, entire conversations seemed to be born simply of boredom. In one, someone had written "ColdPlay RULES" but with "RULES" scratched out and "SUCKS" written next to it in a different hand. "DICK" was cleverly added in yet another. An arrow pointing to the exchange stated "ColdPlay is a bunch of fags!" under which was "YOUR A FAG!" and under that "NO UR A FAG!" It went on, and on like this. It's funny how mean and stupid people decide to be when there's no chance of retaliation he thought to himself as he finished up. He thought about calling Jack, but how hard could it be to find the stationary section?
Jack plunged deep into the bowels of the beast, walking up and down the main aisles trying to seek out his coveted stationary. Since the conversion, the entire layout of the store had been inflated to gigantic proportions and then switched around, seemingly at random. The toy section, for instance, was not only the size of a small nursery school, but placed next to the firearm display. Get' um hooked young Jack thought dryly. He heard a crash from the canned food aisle and curiously peered around the corner. Inside he saw two children, approximately four and six, running in circles around their mother. The younger one desperately seemed to be trying to both avoid his brother's grasp and stay as close to his mother as possible. She was a rather thick porcine looking woman, whose small deep-set eyes closely inspected the cans of creamed corn and spam she had clenched in her fists. She lackadaisically told them to cut it out. "But I want to destroy him!" the six year old responded, and again began to chase the younger boy. The woman sighed, resigned to her fate, and turned so that for the first time Jack could see her in profile. Her stomach bulged out in a manner that didn't suggest one too many hamburgers or beers. Well, Jack thought, at least that explains the odd choices in food. He walked away smiling to himself, thinking how nice it was to know he only had to take a trip to his local Wal-mart to re-affirm his pro-abortion stance.
In searching for Jack, Vincent had somehow managed to find himself in the women's underwear section which, in and of itself, was the size of a large house. Although he was there accidentally, he was in no rush to purposefully leave. As he starred at the racks and racks of bras, he entertained the idea of the racks that would fill them. Big ones, small ones, perky ones. cute ones; the thought was almost too much for him. His excitement grew to the point that it strained the normal dimensions of his body. Slowly, he began to swell to compensate for the extra pressure building inside of him. This expansion occurred in one area in particular. It was at this exact moment that Vincent realized it had been too long since he had been with a woman.
Jack, at the moment at least, wasn't thinking about breasts. But if hard pressed, he would admit he always felt that it was a matter of quality over quantity. A true connoisseur would tell you that there certainly was a concept of "too much of a good thing." Which was why the idea of implants was especially offensive to him. If all we cared about were aesthetics what was the point in having a woman anyway? Couldn't we just appease our desire to look with magazines and the internet? The whole thing almost made him admire women with smaller breasts. There was a certain respect gained by sticking to your guns, and bust size, against the oppression of our cleavage crazed culture. Obviously he had nothing against large breasts, but the introduction and popularization of imposters took away from the excitement, as you were forced to question their legitimacy. But, Jack wasn't thinking about breasts. Instead, he was appalled by witnessing a young boy's mother consent to his demands for a Blue Tooth phone accessory.
Vincent couldn't shake the realization he had come to. He tried desperately to remember the last time he made out with a girl and pulled up a date far more distant than he would have liked to admit. That particular time wasn't even very satisfying, as the whole session had just felt wrong. For whatever reason, Vincent felt like someone wasn't happy about them being together, maybe the girl, maybe her boyfriend. He had only found out about him long after the hook-up. She had told him earlier that she was "kinda seeing someone" which he took to mean she was officially single and it was ok to keep trying for her. But that was the problem exactly, he always had to try. Really hard. Vincent was good looking, but not so good looking as to merit enough interest for women to approach him. This was a severe disadvantage, as he was far too shy to approach women himself. Thus, he only flourished when he was forced into situations where he couldn't help but talk to girls, say being their lab partner, like this last girl. Even at his best, all of his prospects were very long term projects. First he planted the seed of interest, and then nurtured it as it slowly bloomed. Now that he thought about it, he was really in need of some female presence in his life. It wasn't so much the lack of the physical act that upset him, but that there were no women who wished to perform it with him. But what the hell was he supposed to do now, during the summer? Where was he going to find someone new? And…where the hell was Jack?
Everywhere Jack looked, something else pissed him off. Whether it be items that were convenient to the point of annoyance, such as the blue tooth, or things that were just plain impractical, like threadbare designer jeans. Pre-ripped, for your convenience Jack thought. What was the point? They were broken and dirty, but in a calculated purposeful way. They had no personality, no stories to tell. He looked down at his own jeans, the knees were worn white, the backs of the cuffs torn and frayed, one slightly blackened. Oh, he remembered that one. He and Vincent took a welding class two years ago. While they were using a plasma cutter, some sparks flew onto Jack's cuff and ignited it. Neither of them realized until they smelled the burning fabric and hair. He laughed. His thoughts were interrupted by his cell phone's vibrations in his pocket. He took it out and saw that the call was from Vincent. He frowned.
"You're calling me? We're in the same building."
"I'm lost."
"You're lost?"
"I'm lost." Vincent repeated, sounding annoyed.
"What are you, two years old? Do you want me to page you at the front desk and collect you there?"
"This place is fucking huge Jack, where are you?"
"Aisle 34."
"I'll meet you there."
Vincent angrily snapped his phone shut and walked out into the main avenue in search of Aisle 34. He looked up and down the aisle, then jumped and ducked stealthily back into the cover of the women's section. Fuck he thought pinning himself against the wall of discount handbags. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. There he was looking at the television display. Tim Mitchel. Of all the god damn people on all the god damn days he thought pulling his hands through his long hair.
Last year, Vincent and Tim had been slightly more than acquaintances. They shared a two period class together and always talked during their five minute break. In a fit of hopeful friendship, they exchanged screen names at the end of the year and parted with statements of "we should really hang out this summer." What they didn't know was about only thing they had in common was that small pocket of time between chem periods. They could initiate meaningless conversation when they had to, but not much else. As a result, every instant message conversation consisted of only four lines,
-Hey
-Hey man
-What's up?
- Nothin
And then long tracts of silence until inevitably one of them would have to go do something more entertaining than talking to the other. Needless to say, they had yet to hang out.
It wasn't that Vincent bared any ill feelings towards him, but he just felt uncomfortable about the situation. And what if Tim was angry at him? What if Vincent's mute screen name, staring at him day after day from the comfort of his buddy list was just too much for Tim to bear, and he snapped? If they passed each other, would Tim continue to stare steely eyed straight ahead, leaving Vincent's eyes unmet? Communication was so easy now-a-days, that the fact they didn't might mean to Tim that Vincent just didn't want to. Which wasn't far from the truth, but Vincent wasn't sure if that was grounds for hostility. Either way, Vincent had nothing to say to him, and awkward conversation didn't sound appealing at the moment. The last thing he needed right now was more discomfort. Vincent made up his mind to avoid him, now and possibly for the rest of his life.
Vincent peeked out from his hiding place to see Tim and a girl still there looking at the TVs. Using stealth skills gleaned from playing Splinter Cell and Metal Gear Solid, he crept out and made haste to Aisle 34: Stationary. When he arrived, Jack was scrutinizing two different pens, weighing the pros and cons of 0.5mm vs. 0.7mm. Vincent pulled him to the main aisle and instructed him to look at the TV section.
"What am I supposed to be looking at?" Jack asked, forehead furrowed due to a combination of irritation and near-sightedness.
"Right there, next to that hot girl. It's Tim, she's probably his new girlfriend"
Right away, Jack spotted him. In the few times he and Jack had talked, Tim proved himself to be someone Jack could take or leave. Jack generally left those people. He didn't see the point in spending time with anyone or anything that didn't impress him. However, he still found ways to get to Jack. Tim and his former girlfriend would always stand in the middle of the hallway and make out for the entirety of the period before first. It seemed to Jack that anyone who engaged in such drawn out public displays of affection was so impressed with themselves for finding someone who would kiss them, that they just had to show off to everyone around them. Vincent too had seen this behavior, but it generally just depressed him as he lacked what they had.
"I see him." Jack said, "That's not his girlfriend though, that's his sister"
"How do you know?"
"Well, the fact that they aren't hooking up in the electronics department is a good clue. Plus, I've seen them with their mom before."
"Oh yea…" Vincent said distantly "Well, then Tim has a really hot sister"
"Dude…she's thirteen years old"
"What? How is that…..Look at her…" Vincent cupped invisible cantaloupes in front of his chest. "And look at what she's wearing!" Surely the midriff showing shirt and high heals couldn't belong to a thirteen year old, but the look on Jack's face showed he wasn't kidding "Oh goddamn it. Goddamn all the hormones in the meat. They make girls develop too early! And….her parents should be ashamed of themselves for letting her go out like that!"
"I don't know Vincent….I think you just like 'em young." Jack said grinning.
"Oh fuck you Jack; you're the one who couldn't stop talking about Natalie Portman in The Professional!" Vincent said, growing upset.
"That's different!" Jack said defensively.
"You're right, she was twelve!"
"She's older now!"
"She was twelve!"
Jack would have said something about his friend's little obsession with Emma Watson, but something about Vincent seemed off. "Hey, are you ok dude?"
Vincent looked at Jack and sighed. "I don't know, I just started thinking about why there's nothing going on in my romance department."
"Pun intended?" Jack said smirking, making a sweeping gesture encompassing the whole store. The look on Vincent's face showed he wasn't in the mood. Jack sobered. "What made you get on that subject?" Vincent told him of his little adventure in the bra section. "Can...Can that happen?" Jack asked.
"Apparently, if you have an over-active imagination and a lacking sex life!" Vincent said a little too loudly, causing an old lady to turn her head towards him. He looked down sheepishly. He then told Jack the rest of his thoughts about the last girl he was with, and how he always seemed to be attracted to the wrong ones, such as with Tim's sister, and about the dilemma that his shyness presented.
Jack was about to say something to his friend, but a hand clapped him on the shoulder. Vincent immediately pushed his emotions to the side. Jack turned to see Tim standing there grinning at them. His sprits sank, this wasn't the time and Jack could only take so much of him.
"Hey man, what's goin on?" Jack asked quickly.
"Not so much, you know, I have a new girlfriend, that's goin alright, haven't done her yet but…" As Tim talked, he off-handedly began slipping pens and pencils into his pockets. Vincent and Jack exchanged a look. "Whoa, turning to a life of crime there buddy?" Jack asked, interrupting Tim.
"It's a victimless crime dude, they lose so little compared to what I would pay for this shit, so what does it matter?" Tim said, shifting things around in his pockets to make more room. "And half of it was made by those little kids in China or whatever, and that's not cool, so I'm showin' the company we ain't gonna stand for it!" Tim said, trying to appeal to Jack's tendency to think about the big picture.
"Well...if you really wanna think about it, you're actually just making those kids work harder. Everything you steal, the company has to replace, so good logic there." Jack said grinning. Tim seemed to consider this for a moment.
"Whatever. Fuck 'um. I need to save money so I can work on my car." Tim said.
Vincent perked up, sensing an opportunity to both rekindle the small flame of camaraderie he and Tim shared, as well as get back at Jack, he asked,
"Oh yea? What have you done to it lately?"
Jack stared hard at Vincent, who responded by giving him a knowing smile. Jack hated talking about cars. He silently cursed Vincent and himself for provoking him earlier. Jack's eye's glazed over immediately as Tim began a laundry list of items and services he had added and performed on his car. Amongst them was taking off the catalytic converter. That got Jack's attention.
"Isn't that the thing that takes out like, half the pollution? Why would you do that?" Jack asked.
"Cause, oh man, you should hear the engine! It's so damn loud! It's so fuckin' hardcore!" Tim said excitedly "…What? What was that face for?"
"Oh nothing..." said Jack, trying to wrap his head around the idiocy of what he had just heard. "It's just well …my dick is enough to prove that I'm a man."
Tim never got a chance to respond as at that moment Wal-mart security descended upon them.
"Scatter!" Tim yelled panicking.
"What?" Jack asked.
"SCATTER!" He yelled as he ran away.
Jack cast a bemused look at Vincent, only to discover his friend wasn't there. Spinning around, Jack saw the ends of his long hair disappearing around the corner. Oh Good! Jack thought as he too broke into a run. He cast a glance behind him to see if he was being chased. Apparently the community outreach program had quite an influence on Wal-mart, as the entire team of security guards was pushing seventy. They should be able to make it. He looked forward and concentrated on keeping up with Vincent.
Vincent went in the general direction of the door they had walked in. The different departments were a blur as he ran, his karate classes finally paying off. He reached the door to the outside world and ran past the now alert greeter. "Ruffians!" he yelled shaking his fist in protest, the effort causing the loose skin of his neck and arms to swing. Vincent kept running through the enormous parking lot, selecting his path at random, until his cell phone went off in his pocket. He ducked behind a car, pulled it out and smiled.
"You're calling me? We're in the same parking lot."
"Fuck you." Jack said out of breath "Why the hell did you run? We didn't do anything!"
"Ever hear of guilty by association? We watched him take something and didn't do anything about it; at the very least we would have been held for a while. I'm just not in the mood."
"Well, good thinking asshole! Now we can't go back there for at least a year. We're probably on videotape."
"Oh big deal, we're going to college soon, there will be more Wal-marts. I see you, come here." Vincent said hanging up and waving his friend over
They had managed to lose the security guards and themselves in the parking lot, but now had to find Jack's car. They walked along in a silence punctuated by the sound of screeching tires; undoubtedly Tim escaped as well.
"Shit, we never even got what we came for!" Vincent said, remembering.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that" said Jack grinning. He produced a three-pack of his favorite pens. "If we were gonna run, we might as well have a reason." Vincent looked shocked.
"What about what you said to Tim?"
"Hey, it's better for those kids to earn a little money than nothing, and it's a phase of industrialization. Even the US went though and we turned out ok."
Vincent wasn't convinced.
"Whatever," Jack said putting the pens back in his pocket "listen, I didn't get a chance to respond back there. But who are the girls you've hooked up with?"
"Uh…there was Jackie, Nicole…" Vincent said, counting them off on his fingers "Ashley, Leia and Jamie…possibly more while drunk?" He didn't know where Jack was going with this.
"And what do they all have in common?"
"They….all have E's in their names?" Vincent said smiling, but confused.
"No, idiot." Jack said laughing "They were all hot, and you really liked them. It means you have standards. So don't worry about it. It's quality over quantity my friend, in most aspects of life."
"Well yea, but there are no more girls I like around here, so where does that leave me?" Vincent asked eyes cast downward.
"Oh big deal, we're going to college soon. There will be more women." Jack said smirking, "And you don't have to be shy there. No one will know what you were like; you can totally re-invent yourself…don't make me sound cliché. You'll work it out man." Jack said giving his friend a real smile.
"Yea…maybe." Vincent said, feeling a bit better about the situation.
After a few moments of silence and searching, they found the car.
"Hey…sorry for getting pissed at you before" Vincent said.
"It's cool man." Jack said getting into the car, "It's what we do."