5:42 PM

I didn't have to walk into the room to know what I was gonna see. The smell was enough to me, rocking my stomach as if I were at sea.

"Don't breathe through your nose," Wanda says. "Open your mouth."

But I don't. The smell made it more real to me. It would make it so I could never forget what I was about to see. Terry was in the corner talking to the wife. Her arms were crossed, placed perfectly to push her breasts up and he fell for it. His eyes were glued to her cleavage as he licked his lips as if they were Christmas dinner.

"Are you ready for this?' Doug asks. His little faux hawk dancing around as he spoke. "It's some insane shit. Never did see anything like it. So, are you ready?"

We both nod. I'd seen a lot in my life, but was I ready for this?

"Law," Wanda says, which snaps me back to reality.

There was still smoke billowing through the doorway, the smell of burnt bacon still sizzling away surrounded my nose as we walked in. "This is exactly the way we found him," Doug said. He stopped just a few steps in, his tongue sneaking out of his mouth and licking at the corner of his lips. "Makes me gag a bit. But I just can't look away."

Once the smoke stopped stinging my eyes we got a good look. There he was. A tall, obese, naked man sitting in a backwards chair leaning against the stove. His back covered in hair, his head ironically bald. His nose was covered by a plastic pig nose, his face pressed firmly against the eye of the stove. The skin of his face was blistered and burnt, blood ran down the stove. But all I could focus on was his eyes. Open. Staring at me.

I swallowed hard. I had promised myself I wasn't gonna get sick. And I wasn't.

Wanda walked closer, looking all around him, "How'd he actually die, then?"

"Well," Doug pulled up his pants some, "It looks like there's a stab wound to the chest. I'm guessing that did it."

"Alright then," she said looking at me, "Lawrence can you grab the camera from my car? I want to get a few pictures."

I stood there staring into his blue eyes.

"Lawrence!" she shouted.

"Right. Camera." I turned around quickly and left, covering my mouth as I brushed past Doug.

"Pussy," he spat out as I flew past him.

I ran into the bathroom, hunched over the toilet and placed both of my hands on the seat. I looked down into the water and out it came. My steak sub from lunch. I stood up, taking deep breaths like my doctor taught me. "It's not that bad," I coached, "You've seen worse."

I wiped my mouth with some tissue and flushed it all down. Good-bye, appetite.

As I exited the bathroom, Terry exited the room right across from me. "Obviously," he zipped up his pants and spit into his cup. "She aint do it. She's the kinda girl who, you know," he spit again, "Is womanly. Don't do real fucked up shit. Yep. Aint her."

I gagged on the smell of chewing tobacco wafting from him as he spit again, closed the door, and walked back towards the kitchen.

"Camera," I said outloud. A technique my doctor also taught me so I don't forget.

I walked to the front door and opened it, the sun winking at me from behind a cloud. "It's gonna be a loooong day," she sang. "A real long day."

Microwave

"Lets have a baby," I said to my wife. We were lying in bed, holding each other with the lights on.

The corners of her mouth pulled back, showing me her teeth that were together, and sucked in air quickly between them. It hissed.

"I can't get lah dee dah~" she sang at the end.

I could barely hear her so I said, "What?"

"I can't get pregnant," she almost yelled.

The room fell silent as we stared into each other's eyes. I took a deep breath and licked my dry lips.

"Wha....what?" I asked as tears gathered in my eyes. I was the last man in my family. It was my job to pass on the bloodline.

She shrugged, "We can adopt or something?"

I bit my bottom lip and closed my eyes, "Why didn't you tell me? Are you sure? Maybe we can check."

"No, I'm sure. And I told you already," she pulled away slightly.

"When?" I looked at her.

"When I told you that story..." she looked at my blank face. I had no idea what she was talking about. "You know the one. When I was younger I stood in front of the microwave because I hated having sex with condoms."

"What the fuck?" was all that passed between my lips.









We're getting a divorce.

Letter (A Small Written Piece)

I stood there staring into the dark depths of my mailbox. Did I see what I think I saw? Far back in the corner a small crinkled up piece of paper, hidden by the mail, unseen by the mailman. I squinted, trying to concentrate on something that was scribbled across it, but of course I couldn't make it out.

I raised my head, turning it to the left and right scanning the street for a culprit who might just be watching me in this very moment. There was no one.

A "what the fuck?" exited my lips before my eyes came to rest back on that little piece of paper. Not folded, not in a envelope. Simply balled up and tossed into my mailbox. I hoped it was just trash.

My hand slithered like a weary serpent to the back of the mailbox, my fingers lightly gripping an edge of the dreaded paper. I pulled it out slowly. Yellow construction paper. Purple crayon.

I was confused. And as I unraveled the paper, my confusion escalated. I stared, in awe, in my yard, in my t-shirt and pajama bottoms, at this weird letter.

Dear Mr. LeMont, (it started simply enough)

This is a letter of utmost importance. For you, my dear sir, are in the wrong. I must tell you, I will be blunt from this point on. Hoping that you heed my warnings and stay away.

This fascination with my mother is getting out of hand. I am telling you it must stop. No more visits. No more flirting. No more hotels. No more contact. I assure you that if you do not listen to me, you will suffer severe consequences for your addiction to my mother is unhealthy. She is married. You are married. Leave her alone.

The scribble beneath the letter was illegible. I stood there, holding it. Not reading it, not staring at it, it seemed like I was staring through it. At some unknown thing that would give me answers.

"Huh..." sighed over my shoulder. I jumped, turned around and looked right into the eyes of my wife, coffee in hand. She sucked on her teeth a minute and raised her eyebrow, "Whose wife, Mike?" The world froze, "Hm? I knew you were fucking someone else."

I just stood there. I really had no idea what else to do. She gripped the letter with her forefinger and thumb and with one sharp tug, it was in her possession.

And then she walked away. Leaving me standing there, at the end of the driveway. My arm still held up slightly, as if holding the letter. My mind was racing, screaming, freaking out...

"You fucking idiot. Why did you have to read it?"

Type 2

Laura's hand rested lightly on the kitchen knife, she seemed to stare through the wall as she listened intently. The half cut up tomato oozed it's contents in waiting as her grip on it tightened. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, going over the words again in her mind. They're fixing the sink. Just fixing the sink.

But the sounds being emitted from the bathroom were anything but the sounds of two men stopping a busted pipe. She cringed as the moans became louder. It was just her imagination. Only her imagination.

Her thumb began to tap lightly on the counter.

"I can't do this!" she screamed at the wall and the moans only became louder.

Laura turned away from the wall and walked across the kitchen, picking up the phone and dropping the crushed tomato in the trash can. She slowly pressed the numbers as her bottom lip quivered. They obviously didn't care if she heard now, the moans and grunts were so loud that it seemed like they were in the room with her.

6
Hesitate
5
Hesitate

There was a loud thud, making her jump. She glanced over her shoulder as she dialed the rest of the numbers. Pressing the phone against her ear, she listened to the rings. After the second ring, the other person picked up. There was a shuffling sound from the other end, followed by a disheveled person's voice.

"H-hello..?" more shuffling.

"They're fucking again. In my Goddamn bathroom!" Laura began her pacing, up and down the kitchen.

"Laura? What time is it?" a quick cough.

"It's three in the afternoon. Did you hear me? They're in my bathroom! What do I do?!" she began chewing on her nails, her eyes scanning the room.

"Uhh...Laura, I'm not even fully awake yet..." there was the sound of someone talking in the background, "What? Oh...yeah...coffee sounds great....hey, Laura, you still there?"

"Who are you talk-- you know what, nevermind. Just tell me what to do."

"Fuck. Confront them?"

"They have to know I hear them, right?" Laura paused. "I mean, they're being really loud. I can clearly hear them, Cless."

"Right..." a yawn. "Look, I worked last night. I'm really tired. If they're being loud, it's because they don't care if you hear them. I say confront them."

"Yeah...yeah...thanks," and before Cless could respond, Laura hung up.

Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the kitchen and around the corner. She stared at the door, shaking, nervous, unsure of this decision. You either do this now or you accept what's going on.

She placed her hand on the door knob, took one deep breath, twisted, and shoved the door open. The knob smacked against the wall with a bam. There they were, entangled in some sort of passionate dance she didn't want to understand.

The words seemed to fall from her lips before she could stop it, "What the fuck is this shit?"

"Laura?" Michael shoved Greg off of him as he reached for his pants.

"You're disgusting..." she said shaking her head. "Oh my God, I hate you."

"Laura, wait," he said, fastening his belt. "You don't understand."

"Understand what?!" she shoved her palm into his chest as he came closer. "That you're having sex with my brother, you sick fuck?!"

"I love him," Greg said as he wrapped a towel around his waist.

"What the fuck...?" Laura backed away from them and back towards the kitchen.

"No, Laura," Michael said. "I love you. I want to be with you!"

Laura shoved him, making him stagger, "You thought you could achieve that by fucking my family?!"

"No. No, I...I just lost myself. This isn't me," he pleaded.

"Then who is it, Michael? Because I'm looking right at you. I can't believe you would do this. To me. To us!"

"I..."

"You're what? Sorry?" she folded her arms as he nodded. "Get the fuck out of my house."

"Laura..." Michael extended his arms, trying to pull her into an embrace.

She shoved him again, "No! Fuck you, Michael! Fuck you! Both of you, get the fuck out."

Michael, defeated, turned and walked towards the door. "I wont stop loving you, I'm gonna fight for this relationship."

"Good fucking luck," she screamed out as the door closed behind him.

"Laura," Greg said, putting his pants back on. "What about the baby?"

"What baby?" Laura said quietly.

Greg moved closer to her, "Don't do that. It's a life, Laura."

She sighed, "He ruined that. And you did too. Get out."

"I'm sorry it happened this way," he said as he hugged her, grabbed his keys, and walked out.

Laura blinked and she was back in the kitchen, holding the knife and staring at the wall.

Next time, she thought. I'll confront them next time. She raised the knife slowly and cut into the tomato, the moans and grunts echoing through the house.

Disease and Fear

Disease

I have this thing that’s very contagious. It’s called stupidity.

As I speak, the words that flow between these subtle lips are caked in it. Nothing makes sense. Nothing fits together. Nothing works. Just words, bland and simple and dipped in monotone, that are pointless.

My arguments hold no weight because of this disease that plagues me. This thing that consumes my mouth.

I fight to keep my voice raised above everyone else’s, dare I lower it they might notice. I can’t let them notice. I can’t let them hear the truth. I can’t show them how stupid I really truly am.



Fear

I can feel the temperature rise as my face floods with the light red of anger. ‘Bite your tongue,’ sings my inner being. ‘Be calm. Join me in serenity.’

I take two deep breaths and look over as her phone vibrates with another text. Another little screen filled hatred and biting words. The screen aimed for the heart, and strike it it did. Every time there was a text like this that was received, it aimed for the heart and it struck.

My heart swelled in my chest and my hands shook with the urge to wrap around the phone, crushing it. Tonight was NOT the night. I took a deep breath as my inner being sang again, ‘Think of blue skies beyond this. This is one instance in your life, and in the blink of an eye this experience will be over.’

Another vibration. Another jabbing text. Every word dipped in the lovely concoction of jealousy, envy, and confusion. I bite my lip. I ball up my fist. I raise it quickly. And I bring it down with a sharp snap as it slams against my thigh.

I repeat this process several more times before I stop and breathe deeply.

‘Don’t harm yourself,’ the being chirps, ‘Certainly this other isn’t worth it.’

But the texts continue. My anger rises.

And in the blink of an eye, there he is. Standing still. Smiling at me.

“Welcome, friend,” he coos. “Welcome to fear.”

The room was quiet. The smell of bleach, disinfectants, and the plain stale stench of hospital had settled in the small waiting room. I stared at my feet, clicking my heels together then clicking my toes together. Back and forth and forth and back. Again and again.

Then I started counting tiles.

1

"Why are you here?" says a woman in the corner to another woman sitting close to her.

2

"My son is sick," she responds.

3

"Mine too," she whispers.

4

"Mr. Powell?" says a nurse. A man stands and walks towards her.

5

"Maybe we should talk in a more private setting?" the nurse whispered.

6

"Whispering isn't sympathy," says Fredrick.

7

"Are you paying attention to me?"

8

He grabs my arm and I snap back, my eyes meeting his. "What?" I say. Tile number 5 is in the left corner. If I remember that, I can continue from 5.

"Are you paying attention to me?" Fredrick says.

"I was thinking..." I mutter.

"What about?" he says confused. His eyebrows furrow a little in the middle.

"Nothing important," I say twisting around in my seat. I try to see all the silent faces in the room. They might as well been born without mouthes.

Fredrick scrapes his teeth against the nail on his thumb, he's never been a patient one. His right leg bounces nervously as we wait, "I wonder what's taking so long."

I turn back around, fixing my eyes on tile number 5, "They're probably really busy tonight. Look at all the people here."

6

"Yeah..." he sighs. "Probably. Hopefully."

7

"You ever look at the sky and wonder?"

8 "Wonder what?" I say, my eyes slowly moving to tile number 9.

"If clouds move because of the wind or because of the earths rotation," Fredrick looked up at the ceiling.

10 "I don't think about that shit," I say quickly.

He looked at me, "Why not? That's good shit. Nice fodder for the brain."

11 "I just don't see the point in thinking about stuff like that."

"You should do it more often. It's interesting."

12 "Why don't you just google it?" 13 "Seriously."

He took a butterscotch candy out of his pocket and began to slowly unwrap it, "That would ruin the fun. You ever notice how the internet ruins the fascination of life? The "what if's" and the "how come's"? What fun is life without those questions? If you can get the answers with the click of a button?"

14

15

16 "What?"

"Are you paying attention to me?" he said sharply. The candy clicking against his teeth.

17

18

19 "Yeah...yeah...I'm paying attention."

"You never ask yourself that?" Fredrick said.

20

21

22 "No. Not really. I don't think about bullshit."

"You just count tiles?"

My head snapped up.

"Mr. Freddy Contas?"

I looked at Fredrick who wasn't moving.

"Mr. Freddy Contas?!" the nurse screamed again.

"Fredrick!" I shouted.

He jerked and looked at me, "What the fuck?"

"They're calling you," I say quietly.

He smiled at me and nodded, "No, they're calling you."

My eyes opened as the nurse shook me, "Mr. Contas?"

"Yes...that's me," I say sleepily.

"Sir, we need to speak to you," she stood upright and waited for me to wake up fully.

"What about?" I said. "Is Fredrick alright?"

"Mr. Contas, maybe we should talk in another room?"

"Tell me," I said quietly. Now I was whispering. "Is he alright?"

"I'm sorry to tell you that he didn't make it, Mr. Contas," she took a deep breath. "He started bleeding and we couldn't stop it. I'm terribly sorry."

I sat there. Frozen. All the blood drained from my face as I tried to think.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"You can..." I choked on the air trying to enter my mouth. I coughed. Short. Fast.

"Yes?" she said quietly.

"You can go," I said as the tears began to sting my eyes.

Tears were in her eyes as well, but she blinked a few times and stood up straight. An immediate fix all and she was again composed. "Your brother," she said firmly. "He was a nice man."

"Thank you," I said as she turned and walked away. "He hated being called Freddy."

Cut.

Print.

23

24...

Day 15

A little something dedicated to M&M. Such a sweetie pie.

No Title

Micah's eyes opened and he was not disappointed by what he saw. The young blonde lying beside him was fast asleep, her body askew on the bed. All he could do was smile.

Out of all of his conquests, Naomi certainly had to be the most attractive. Not to mention she had no problem dragging him back to her place after he had "worked his charms." Although, none of her friends had fallen for his cheesy lines and continued to tell her what a bad idea bringing him home was.

He was very glad she ignored them.

He wanted to roll over and do his normal routine after nights such as these. Silently get out of bed, get dressed, and out the door without disturbing her at all. But something about her kept him in place for awhile. Longer than he would have liked and as he thought about it, watching her sleep, he realized that a piece of him wanted her to wake up before he left.

She stirred, making his heart plummet. A soft moan escaped her lips before she went quiet again. He needed to just go. Head back to his hotel room and get ready for his flight back to Detroit and be with his girlfriend.

Naomi moved again, this time running her leg up his slowly. Her eyes opened slowly as she smiled at him. "Well, good morning~" she sang.

"Morning," he said dryly. He cursed himself, he should have left.

In one easy movement she straddled him, "And how are you feeling?"

"I feel...I feel grreat," his slight stutter dragging out the r.

"Really?" her eyebrow raised slightly. "Are you Tony the Tiger now?" Micah chuckled, this was why he stayed. Her playful nature was so different from his girlfriend's and interested him greatly. She leaned down, kissing his cheek, her mouth close to his ear, "Hey."

A shock seemed to run up his spine, "Yeah?"

"I'm a tiger, baby~" she sat up and winked at him.

"Oh yeah?" Micah smiled.

"Yeah," she pawed at his face, "Rawr~"