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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1356303-Its-meet-not-catch
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Psychology · #1356303
A tribute. Kudos to the enlightened ones.
There were a lot of whory blondes and pimpy looking phonies at the library tonight. So what I thought I'd do is get the heck out and set up shop on another side of town. Forget what Old Mr. Oonk saw on his camera. He's a swell fella and all but you have to be careful about guys who sit and watch others all day. Sounds insane to me but I'm the one who's always making these crazy calls. I swear I'm nuts. I really am.

So I threw on my trusty mail bag and I flipped the flap so the embroidered 'A' on it was right out there. Then I hunched over like I was one of those creepy looking guys. The ones that never look at you on your way to class. One of those big time phonies who're always laughing in their head about this and that. I'm too good at this kind of trick. I play it any time I can cause I have this beard that makes me look more imposing than I really am. It kills me. Just up and kills me.

Then I started to get horribly depressed. I'd see a whole bunch of gals that were trying to give me the old eye but I was too busy cracking my act to give it back. Sorry gal, there isn't time for old Corn Wall Dyke to give you the time. My mission is too serious to shoot the breeze and have a drink back at your place.

I was sweating like a mad man. I really don't have any wind on account of all the crap I eat. So acting all shifty to keep the phonies away was getting tough. See, you can never be too sure about that library door though. I mean, you see the metal plate on it telling you to push, but damn if I can tell which side I'm supposed to go out and in. All the while the kids behind the front desk just watch - they watch you sweat as you decide what door to push open. I bet they're betting on me smacking someone with the door. I bet they are.

I put away Corn Wall and took out my phone. Suddenly I felt like giving Laura Trout a buzz. I'd ask her how the cows were doing, and if she still was that glowing kind of doughy, and if her dad was still in love with me. Yeah, her dad was one of those pervy farmers who couldn't get enough of a guy like me. I mean, I looked older than I am because of the beard and my deep voice. So he caught me trying to give the old time to Laura in the basement and just smiled one of those pervy smiles - like he had seen something he wanted - and walked away. I wasn't feeling all too sexy like after that. Perverts and phonies make me want to vomit. You would have tossed your cookies if you saw how he looked at me.

Then I didn't feel like calling Miss Trout anymore, so I dropped the serious routine and stepped over to the Hickey. For Chrissake it was nice to get a good breeze from the snow. I was sweating like a mad man.

I walked into the dining hall all smooth like, flipping my bag so the 'A' on the flap didn't show any more. Just for kicks. Nothing too serious, cept the two ugly gals at the check in were buying it wholesale. I'm one of those intellectuals who can spot an idiot from a mile away. The gal actually taking the card was cute but she wasn't too bright. I could just tell by the way she wouldn't look at me. Like her dad did when she got a B in physics.

Wasn't all too hungry after I saw the food they had lying around. It's one thing to do pulled pork, and another to do stir fry. But it's a Goddamn mystery to me how these flitty guys thought they could get away with it. I saw a french fry in the rice pan. No joke. I wonder how they get all those little pieces of rice? I mean, there are so many of them if you think about it. Enough to fill up Central Park if you tried. How could they just get so many and throw em at the phonies here? They don't get how long it must have taken to clean each grain.

So I had a bowl of water and meat with a glass of apple water. I wasn't too hungry as I said.

Then I started thinking about heading out west as I sipped my water and apple. To where it's warm, you know? I could get a job busting suds at some highway restaurant where nobody I knew would see me. Just bus tables and wash dishes all day without saying a word. I might just pretend I'm one of those deaf-mutes I've read about. My boss would have to write everything down, and it would just kill me. No joke. I'd get tired of it after awhile but there's no way I could stop after that. Then I'd save up enough and go find out where all that rice comes from. With other intellectuals like me.

The dining hall started getting crowded and depressing, so I took up my bowl and dropped all careful like onto the dish return. I wonder if there are any deaf-mutes writing messages and washing dishes back there? That would kill me.

I was shaking like a bastard when I went outside. It must have been zero degrees, but I toughed it out and took the long way. The campus is all peaceful like when there isn't a bunch of dramatics filling the sidewalks. I put the flap out to show the 'A' again and made like I was a grand adventurer, exploring the lost ruins of a phony civilization. I felt kinda depressed as I passed the journalism building. They were going to be sore when they figured out I gave up writing to explore some ruins in the harsh northern lands.

But that's what I want to do with my life. I want to be one of those guys who sits on the side of the hill and watches all the people scramble around below. All giving each other the eye and asking if they'd like a drink. Then I'd reach down and find one looking for rice, and shove him on the other side of the hill that I watch on Sundays. White really isn't my color though. I look terrible in white. My big sis Vicky even said so once.

I was thinking about giving Vicky a ring but I figured her lesbian roomate would pick up and figure out who I was. Then she'd get all concerned and tell my sister I'm climbing glaciers.

Gals like that are all aces. They really are.
© Copyright 2007 Gerrard Nole (gerrardnole at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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