Today, I could have but didn't shop. So, tonight for dinner, I had a handful of chips, two black olives, half an apple, eight pieces of candied ginger, a ripe nectarine. I'm not joking. Sequentially but not quickly, spread out over the two-hour film I watched about the economic downturn.(more)
The main characters all lose their executive jobs and reevaluate what everything means. Some of them figure it out. Some don't. The veteran actors are brilliant, every facial expression nuanced flawlessly - stunned, exhausted, ashamed - digging deep to find the feelings I wonder if they've ever had.
The film suited me, after a day feeling loosed from my moorings. Their sadness and lost eyes against the stark city-scape and winter fields mirrored mine. This is temporary, I tell myself.
But I don't know that tonight.
The younger actor, more or less the center of the storyline, at one point flies to another city for an interview that turns out to be scheduled for the following week. He walks back outside, stands in the street, looking in every direction and nowhere at once.
Tonight, I just wanted to go to him in the Motel 6 where he was staying, crawl into bed with him and hold on.
Always. Almost. I don't see the point of not. I don't believe anything. And that's not an anymore, that's an always. Not to contradict, but I do however believe-in. They're fun. And easy. Let's have a Believe-In. See? Easy.
she studied him quietly, sorting out his story in her mind, quickly combing over his words looking for clues and missteps. 30 seconds was all she had to size him up. he had a great poker face. it was smooth, clear and innocently he awaited her decision.
tonight h(more)e was a little smirky. this game was all on her. and dinner would be to. his choice, he was sure of it. the windows in the living room rattled. a heavy wind had been blowing most of the evening. they looked only at each other.
it was a game they played frequently, a couple of times a month maybe, a twist on stern's gossip game where mike walker "reads" four stories from the tabloids and the stern crew guesses which one is fake. while they played for different stakes, the rules were always the same: one tells a story the other has 30 seconds to say you're joking or you're not.
gravity was working its magic on the hourglass from an old boggle game. she didn't have to see it to know time was slipping away. it was a little unnerving knowing the sand slid uncontrollably to the bottom chamber but the game was harmless - the loser out 50 bucks and both having a good time at the other's choice of entertainment. tonight she would have to guess, she didn't know the answer. damn! time was almost up.
she chewed on her lower lip, his smirk growing slightly. the wind whipped through the trees outside, something banged loudly in the dark, making them jump suddenly.
his knee hit the table just enough to knock over the timepiece. it rolled across the surface as if blown by a tiny wind and fell, like his face. damn. they'd be going dutch tonight.(less)
"Look, there's... There's something I... Something I always... Wanted to tell you..." the boy stuttered out. He was sweating and fidgeting. He looked clearly uncomfortable.
The girl sitting beside him looked him in the face, waiting. She didn't know what he was trying to get at, but she(more) had a feeling that it was something she wanted to hear.
"I... I... I..."
"You what?" she said, surpressing a sigh that was beginning to rise in her chest.
"I love you!" he finally blurted out, his face becoming instantly red. He closed and his eyes and tightened up. There was no real reason for it. He just did.
The girl blinked and stared at him. "You're joking, right?" she asked.
The boy turned a deeper shade of red and wanted to cry. "No!" he squeaked out, and began to bury his face in his hands.
"Well then..." the girl said slowly. "Prove it to me."
"Prove it to you?" he asked. "How am I supposed to do that?"
"You'll think of a way, I'm sure."
The boy looked at her for a moment, trying to think of what to do. Suddenly he leaped forward and pecked her on the lips, then shot back and began hiding himself again. The girl looked surprised, then gently took his face in her hands.
"You did it wrong," she said, smiling.
"What do you mean?"
"It's like this." And she kissed him deeply on the lips.(less)
"Y-You're joking...right?..." I asked again for the twelfth time.
"Nope. I'm being totally serious. This is your chance." my friend reassured me for the 12th time.
(more) "O...Okay..." I hesitated. After closing my eyes I took a deep breath and walked with my stomach sucked in and my chest sticking out. I'm a guy by the way so don't imagine boobs on me.
I gallantly strolled across the field to meet her. The girl. It was dark winter night but her radiant beauty brought warmth and light to my being. I approached her cautiously so as not to seem too hasty...
Five months later I awoke. My face was covered in some...reddish purple liquid. I assumed it was my blood. My skin felt all crusty and broken. Surprisingly I felt fine. I was lying down in a hospital bed. Balloons and cards were set up near me. There was one standing right next to my bed that caught my eye. I opened it and read the contents aloud.
"Dear Richard: Just Kidding! It was totally a joke! We built a fake statue of her that was rigged to hit you with 5 Exploding Cherry Pies! Love, Your Friends."
I laughed. It actually was pretty funny.
Then I died. Apparently I forgot to tell them I was allergic to cherries. Oh well, I like it up here in Heaven. God can pull some of the best jokes. Like that time he really did end the world in 2012, but only the southern hemishpere. Now that's good comedy.
I think it was Groucho Marx and his good pal Alexander Hamilton who once told me that I have a twisted sense of humor...(less)
they laugh and laugh. "you're joking ... right?". He tucks his chin and throws eyes at the corner. They're about to give him jeers before
she walks up to the burned in some places table, snags up the empties and asks through dark rouge lipstick "you want another(more) lemonade there sweetie?"
she's the 30 something sexy type that uses "sweetie" as a hook line to drunk heads to get them to lay down tips they hope will get them into her pants. She doesn't even think about it much, she grew up feeling maternal and it was bolstered until it became a habit, saying "sweetie".
He gets another lemonade, the other three, domestic, "as seen on TV" beers that won't last 3 breaths. She walks away with eyes on her six. All but him. every. single. shimmy.
"So Abel, about these poems you wrote her", Abel flushes and makes an excuse that he's got to pee. He stands and goes past the can out the door to have a smoke in peace.
There she is in dark clothes which eat the street light leering down just outside the bar door. She's killing herself faster than most with a little stick of leaves and chemicals.
"Hey" she says to Abel, "you don't seem the type to hang around with those guys", "Onevums my brother" he responds. "You the DD?" "hmmm?... oh no, I just don't drink, it'll kill ya", as he lights up his smoke.
She doesn't laugh, "I really hate my brother but I've got that whole sibling obligation". She doesn't respond with more than an "ah".
Abel wonders how it is he can come across as such a loser to someone he's barely even spoken to. He takes a brave shot. "you like poetry?". She looks "your joking right"?(less)
Their jokes were always a little off color. They could be crude and all of the ists you can think of (racist, sexist, the list goes on) but most of the time they were just mean. I didn’t mind. All of us got use to it. There were several(more) times they attempted to convince different people that others of our group of friend had died. Poor Will believed it most often.
Some people said these jokes went too far. We just didn’t realize how right they were until that day. That morning I walked into my mother’s classroom (she was a teacher at the school). She was crying as she turned to me. “Lisa died in a car wreck over the weekend. I thought you should know so you can warn your friends. They are going to announce it over the intercom first period.” I stayed with her until the bell rang, and then went off to find my friends.
I have trouble crying. Random crying is easy. It is just stress that needs to get out every now and then. Crying because something happened is hard. Crying because someone died is harder. I can’t explain why. Needless to say, when I told my friends about it they just laughed.
“You’re joking” “Pull the other one.” “You are a terrible liar." "Really, you’d be bad a poker.”
Crying is hard. Anger is easy. “You don’t believe me!? Fine! Be sure to pay attention during first period you idiots!” I yelled and stormed away. I couldn’t deal with them. They thought this was a joke!
After first they were all crying. Everyone except me. "I lied." One of them said through her tears. "You would be good at poker."(less)
The two men, long time friends in the work business, were sitting in their usual spot, in the usual coffee place. Sipping their usual orders, they talked about the usual things, like their memories of high school together.
(more) "I can still see the look on Nakagawa's face when we did that to him," the dark haired man said, laughing.
"Ahh, and remember the time Xiaoke ran into the door?" the lighter haired man chuckled softly, recollecting old times.
"Such good times."
"Such good times."
The light haired man sipped his coffee, looking out the window with an almost wistful glance. It was easily caught by the dark haired man, who was watching intently. There was a lingering silence. Finally, the dark haired man asked, breaking the silence:
"So what's this big secret you've been keeping?"
"Eh? Really??" the dark haired man blurted, standing in his seat.
"Did you say something?"
"It's nothing." He lowered himself back into his chair. Things suddenly became awkward.
"Is it that important to know?" the light haired man asked. His friend didn't respond back, too embarrassed.
"Well, if you really want to know," the light haired man looked back at his friend with a calm smile as he stood up from the coffee table. "There's a reason why I'm here with you and not some chick, isn't there?"
"...You're joking, right?" The light haired man continued to smile as he walked away. "Wai-!"
"Excuse me, the bill?"
"Here keep the change!" The dark haired man ran from the shop to watch his friend enter a taxi. "Naoki!" But the man was already gone.(less)