Rolling My Eyes

"Are we going to be spending the night there?" she asked Edward Julian Watson. She blurted this question, as if it had come out of nowhere. Putting his chin in his hand and shrugging his shoulders; all with such seriousness, he asked, "Do you want to?" "It's up to you, but you need to let me know." She looked away from his face. "Alright." "Alright what?" she asked, looking up towards him. "Alright we'll stay," Edward Julian Watson had decided. And Becki was suddenly nervous. The next day, she found the number for the highway hotel. She dailed that number and made the reservation. And Becki was calm. When the night and the day was almost done, they went to the hotel to check in. Becki smiled and said her name to the short, dark man bulging behind the desk. He looked at her oddly. He tapped his whole hand on the top of the reservation book, before he pointed a finger at her. "I know you." Becki...

One day, Edward Julian Watson had enough. He decided he was going to quit the television business. He decided this on the first day back from a five-day vacation in Jamaica. It had been his first vacation in eight years.Work all screwed up and Bob and his mother had called five times today asking him to come over once he was done with the store. Yes. He was quitting the television business and Edward Julian Watson was going into the travel business. He told this to his mother when she called for the sixth time. "I am going into the travel business," he said. "Oh, I see," she replied. "And the television business?" "I am quitting it." "Oh, I see," she said. "You are being stupid." "So, I'm not coming over tonight. I will see you for lunch tomorrow." Edward Julian Watson ended the conversation. He told Bob three days later. I am going into the travel business," he said. "And the televisio...

When Tommy woke-up he found himself staring up at the ceiling and then at the window, up too high. Not right. The sunlight coming in the room was leaving dusty rays on the window sill and in the air. What the fuck...? Tommy could not understand anything. He sat up fast, his bare feet hitting cold cement. He was suddenly alert; his eyes scanning. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "Oh, fuck." White painted bars. Steel toliet. Bars. Bars. Bars. Fucking bars...Where the fuck are my shoes? "Oh, fuck," Tommy squeaked. He felt dizzy. He focused his eyes on his feet; stretched them across the steel. He noticed the bottom of his jeans were damp and itchy against his skin. "Don't puke, Tommy," he said outloud. Why the fuck am I here? Tommy called out, "Hello...?" But no one answered. On shaky feet, Tommy made his way to the bars. "Hello...Hello..." He looked down the hallway as far as he could, noticed he was in the last cell. No...

It's 3 a.m. Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. She felt bad that she had not saved Tommy any of the pot he had bought earlier that day. But he did not ask her where any of it was, instead he just pulled her down to the floor beside him and filled his mouth with hers. She ran her fingers over his bare, smooth chest and felt his heart race beneath her fingertips. She did not resist, when he turned her around, as he undid the zipper of his jeans and lifted the red t-shirt she was wearing, so he could enter her from behind. He leaned, reaching forward, grabbing her breasts and squeezing hard,as he used them to push and pull his dick in and out of her. She could feel his teardrops falling on her back. When he was done, she gave him her KISS sweater, so he could keep himself warm, then she rolled the roaches that were left; mixed with tobacco from one of his cigarettes. She let him smoke the joint to himself. After, he told her he liked fucking ...

Dear Tommy, I do not know what to do. It is two o'clock in the morning and I am sitting up here in the hospital and I should be studying for my history test, if I am awake anyway, but I am bored of reading. Mom's at work tonight and everyone else is too tired to come up here and I did not want Grandma to be alone. It would have been the first time. Everyone says she is going to die. No one comes right out and says it to me though. Which is stupid. I am fourteen years old, (almost 15!) not four. I went to visit your grandma for a little bit tonight too. I hope you do not mind. I just know it is really hard for your family to make sure there is someone there for her all of the time. It is so weird that both our grandma's are here doing the same thing, at the same time. Sometimes I feel really bad because I think of all the times I just hated my Grandma. This one time, Mom had found some writing that I had done. I was in grade five. I kept it tucked into the book I ...

Outside the sky looks hazy. I notice my windows need cleaning. Sara runs around in her short skirt and pink shirt. She must be cold. My daughter wears her jeans, at least. The three boys ride their bike lazily, circle after circle in the driveway. The Bratz are everywhere. Even coming off of the stereo. And then they are off to Jamie-Lynn's, my daughter pops her head in the door and is gone again. The work is piled up on the desk. A deadline Wednesday. Two deadlines Thursday. One extension until Sunday. At the dreaded midnight. Kittens are everywhere. One stupid one always caught under the couch. And the house is so messy, I wish the city would find a reason to just bulldoze it. And Charlie is gone. A polite fuck you and the blocked door. For three days, I have secretly wanted to strangle any person who smiles, as I smile back at them, but I don't. Because smiling. That's what friends are for. I do my dishes first. Placing the glasses along the outerside of the dra...

The boys were playing Flamenco Sketches , in the background and she was looking up at me from underneath that red hat of hers. Her eyes were the same colour as the smoke coming off my cigarette. We were sitting near the back, at one of the tables and not in the office. She never wanted to go back in there. "I don't know what you want from me, Ellie," I shook my head at her. "More than this, Addley, more than this." Her gloved hand waved in the air, stopping on the boys. "My Daddy says I cannot come here anymore. He says niggers are good for nothing, except drinking and smoking their lives away...and that is all I see when i am here." "This is all I have ever wanted," I swept my hand around to show her what she had shown me. I stopped on the boys too and we both watched them play for a minute, before I spoke again. "You're a big girl now, Ellie. You're 18. You don't got to listen to your Daddy any more." "I thoug...

The sun was just starting to set and the world took on a hazy orange that he could see in the corners of his eyes. He turned off the radio. The silent air that did not come in, through the open windows of his car, made him wonder if the day's heat would linger on through the night, despite all the weather reports calling for rain. The highway was an almost empty one. He was figuring he was tired of hocking toothpicks and napkins and cheap ketchup packets. He was tired of explaining the refinement of salt and the brittleness of the plastic cutlery sold by the other guys. The thing he did most in his life was drive the highways; the endless highways. But he wanted to walk. He wanted to run. He wished he were Wade Boggs. Or at least Don Mattingly . But instead, he'd been up and down those damn roads so many times, in the past twenty-three years that his mind seldom thought of the road always in front of him. He left that work up to his eyes. Just like he had back when he had ...

Becki could not believe her eyes, to see Edward Julian Watson standing in front of her, when she looked up from keeping the books. Not ten minutes after meeting up with him. And that other woman. Julia. He rang the little silver bell, anyway. "May I help you?" she asked and the fact she did not want to was very apparent on her face. "What are you doing?" he asked. "I'm working." "No, what are you doing?" Her eyes went to the books, to conceal her further disbelief. "Quit asking stupid questions," she replied. "Fine," he stated, "How are you?" And she did not care about her eyes any longer. She looked at him and said, "Please, quit asking stupid questions." Edward Julian Watson told her fine again, as he turned to walk away. "You're acting stupid. Since we are still on for six tonight, I will see you later." Becki's mouth opened, but nothing came out, and Edward Julian W...

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. It was two o'clock in the morning and she was still up, even though it was a Wednesday night and there would be school in the morning. She had already decided she would not go. It was getting too hard to go. She could not stand the hateful stares and the constant whispers.She knows the teachers are offended by the sight of her. And keeping her head down had only gotten her tripped. And spit on by fucking Melissa Walker. Laying on her back in her bed, Minnie pounds the thin mattress with her fists. She is angry. She was angry most of all with Tommy because he had not shown-up that night. He had not met her at the arcade and so she has smoked the whole gram of pot to herself, in her basement bedroom. Even though he had paid for it. It was not like her mother noticed a damn thing anymore. Locked in the spare bedroom, with her over-the-counter sleeping pills. The ones she sent Minnie to get every other d...

Ace and I mostly busied ourselves by keeping our eyes to the ground and not saying a word to each other. While we let her fix the truck. But I was looking her, when she jumped down from the bumper. I watched her as she wiped her hands, leaving greased-stained fingerprints against her buttocks, and I watched her as she reached high, stretched on her toes, to slam down the hood of the truck. Behind us, the moon hung high and large and I could feel its frosty radiance on every part of me; the hair on my arms prickled up from the moon-time air. And she was cold, too. She was wrapping her arms around herself, when she turned around. I put my eyes back to the ground and I tried shuffling my feet in the dirt, and then, so did Ace. And when I looked up at him, he was looking at me and that bastard was already grinning. He knew how stupid the both of us looked. "Well, which one of you is gonna get back in there and see if this fucking thing runs now?" she demanded. And because Ace i...

for amber harper 3:36 pm Tommy practically ran all the way. And he practically ran fast the entire time, too. His blue shirt flapped loudly in the wind and his sneakers slapped louder yet on the sidewalks and the roads that led him home. And Tommy was excited; his smile was huge. He still wore his shiney face, when he ran through the front doors of his house. "Momma! Momma! I got 2 A's on my report card, Momma!" And at first, Tommy did not notice that there was not anyone home to notice him. But he caught on, after he took his shoes off, when he did not hear Momma answer him; even from her bedroom. He threw his report card; in its brown envelope, onto the mat, in front of the wood door. And then he punched the wall. His knuckles did not hurt, when Tommy put back on his shoes. Tommy's blue bike was leaning up against the yellow brick house. The rusty chain was hanging loose again, scraping at the driveway and when he bent to fix it, Tommy noticed the weeds g...

With his mouth, on her nipple, she could feel the sensations to all of her upper body. When her back arched up in reaction, this worked only to further her breast into Edward Julian Watson's mouth. And this sucked for Becki. It tickled far too much for her liking. But she would not complain. She had not told Edward Julian Watson she would prefer if he touched her pussy first. So Becki just pulled Edward Julian Watson's big head back up towards her mouth, and kissed him again. Becki turned out the lights, before Edward Julian Watson was even down the stairs. Then she went to her chest of drawers, opening the top one and slid her hand into the back and beneath her undergarments. And when she heard Edward Julian Watson's blue Datsun start up and pull away, she walked over to her window and she opened the it. And the night air was warmer than she had expected. She took a cigarette from the paper packaging and she lit it. She stared at the tops of the trees and the m...

A warm day, like it had been the last day and the last day and the last day before this day and it was warm day like how all last days have been and will be. These were the days when fans blasted out hot air, so you turned them off. These were the days when everything sagged and sighed; the trees, the buildings and the human lives. This was the the day that was to be the last day that my children would be living at home. My children informed me of their plans to run away, after lunch. "We are running away," they said to me. "Okay," I said, back to them. "After supper," they further said to me. "Okay," I completely agreed with them. "If you want to go, then go." And, "Yes," my children agreed, they would go. My children reminded me several times an hour of their plan. I nodded. And supper hour came and went. It was quarter to eight, when my daughter asked, "When are we having supper?" "No supper," I sai...

She had a real calm smile; it took its time creeping up into her eyes. And there she was looking up at me. She was sitting, right down there on the sidewalk, up against the wall of the bank. Her hand was wrapped around a red pen; buried into a magazine. And I was walking by her. Her eyes were brown. I did not smile back at her. One can never be too sure about anyone who is downtown. A few days later; it was grey and chilly, and I saw her again. With the same simple smile; this time growing into recognition. She stood just inside the entrance way of the video store, ducked, despite the fact she was barley five feet tall and the doorway was at least ten. Funny girl, I thought. Her smile passed by quickly, and then she bent her head down, to the inside of another magazine. She took a long, lipstick drag off a cigarette. "What are you doing?" she asked, when I was passing by her a day and a half later. And I stopped my step, for I was truly stumped. I looked down at my br...

Punks-Tomorrow Minie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. And since Tommy liked to get high, too, they had agreed to meet, before school started, at the edge of the woods. When Minnie stepped through the leaves and needles, the first thing she saw was Tommy, in jeans and his crumpled hair covering his eye. She stopped to watch the morning fog cling around him; owning him. And she smiled. Tommy was beautiful. It was 7 a.m. And she had brought two joints. They were walking down the road; no sidewalks. Tommy's feet shuffled along slow, a dream. She hauled off the joint, to the same slow beat of his sneakers. She looked up to see him looking away. Bringing his joint to his lips, Minnie knew he was nowhere, but in his mind. And so she just watched him looking away, blowing from his lips the smoke; a grey swirl just hanging out with the fog. "Are you scared, Tommy?" she asked. But he did not answer her, even though he had heard her. They threw aw...

On Sundays Dave and Barbara would bring the white suit; slung casually over Dave's arm, into the room they had said was his. "Hey, buddy. It is time to get ready for church." Dave would smile down at him. And on Sundays, Barbara would always smile, too. "We can get orange pop, on the way back. If you keep your suit clean." And Tommy would wait until they left the room they had said was his, to throw the clothing over his head and onto himself. Then he would look at himself in the mirror. And on Sundays, Tommy knew he had never went to his Grandmother's church dressed like this. When Tommy was ready, and when Barbara had scrubbed his face clean one last time, they would go through a door in the kitchen, to the garage. They would climb into the blue convertible and the top would be down. It would still smell of fresh oils and lemon. Because on Saturdays, Tommy and David would scrub the car clean. Tommy had never heard someone talk of summer like Barbara t...

Don lived alone and three days after his wife died, he bought himself a riding lawn mower. His late wife had a solid annoyance for slothfulness. One time, Don had let Tommy ride with him. Let him steer the mower, even. Don would throw Mr. Freezes to the children, over the back fence, in the summer. His dead wife would have baked Tommy and Sissy cookies, instead. His dead wife would have probably made them fresh lemonade, too. And had it all sitting on a freaking plastic tray, when she presented it to the little brats that grew-up next-door. Four and a Half Years Old "I just wanted to let you know that we are going," Tommy said, seriously to Don. "We might never be back." "Alright," nodded Don, agreeing. "I have a few things for the two of you. Things you might need. Come on in here for a minute." "Okay," Tommy agreed and led Sissy through the white door, that Don was holding open from the other side. The inside. The living room wa...

Friday at Almost 6 p.m. Lice lady The high school has a basketball net. It was the first thought Edward Julian Watson had, when his eyes rested upon the basketballs stuck in the large cage. Edward Julian Watson was in the sports department of the K-Mart. What Edward Julian Watson really wanted to purchase was a pair of kneepads. He liked to wear them when he scrubbed his white kitchen floor. So, Edward Julian Watson bought a blue pair of kneepads, along with a basketball. He was the last person to leave the store; an employee, of some-sort, locking the door behind him. Edward Julian Watson threw the kneepads, towards the couch, when he walked into the front door of his house, and Edward Julian threw on his sneakers, immediately after. He had not played basketball in a good five years. Along with his sneakers, Edward Julian Watson also wore a what-the-fuck-does-Larry-Byrd-have-on-me-? attitude, when he ran back out his front door, towards his blue Datsun. Edward Julian Wa...

Earlier That Day It was eleven-thirty in the morning. Edward Julian Watson always woke up on Saturdays, at eleven-thirty in the morning. Edward Julian Watson was in a white bedroom. It was Edward Julian Watson's bedroom. Edward Julian Watson had a elbow-ache because he was on the bed, in his white room, and it was a white room because Edward Julian Watson had not painted it. He rubbed his elbow and that is when he noticed he was wearing the same clothes that he had on the night before. Then, he noticed his watch on the pillow beside him. Edward Julian Watson could taste the grit on his teeth, soured salsa and hamburger. "I have to go," Edward Julian Watson said, out loud. "Okay," his body answered him, weary and aching as he upped himself onto his carpeted floor. Edward Julian Watson always did his weekly groceries and then met Bob for lunch, at noon, on Saturdays. Becki was running through the downtown streets, the same streets she walked everyday...

Later That Day Edward Julian Watson took things for granted. Edward Julian Watson was on his way home from Saturday lunch, driving in his blue Datsun. The oil light was on, flashing red. Edward Julian Watson would stop at the gas station, close to home, he thought, as he ploughed through the streets. But the gas station close to home was closed and he did not understand why. The gas station was always open. So, Edward Julian Watson just drove his blue Datsun home. And watched the baseball game on the television. Becki was standing staring at the bank teller. In her yellow skirt. “I cannot give you advice on this,” John, the man behind the desk, said to her, as he handed her the green folder back; fast. “Thank you, anyway” Becki smiled up at John. “You deserve some help,” John replied. "I will call over to the main branch. I am sure they can help clear this up for you." And Becki smiled at him, again. But she wondered what it was she was so deserving of this h...

The yellow bike was everything. When Tommy was four years old, riding across Chapel Park, he had looked down and back, watching his training wheels cut through the grass and molding the dandelions to the earth. Tommy had felt happy, when the weeds did not pop back up. Now Tommy was six years old and Tommy was racing himself. Up and down the sidewalk, in front of his house. Where Momma was having the yard sale. Tommy would switch the gears on the yellow bike often. Tommy liked doing that best. He did not understand why he could pedal backwards and the bike would still go forwards. He felt like he was from a different planet every time he switched the gears, so Tommy would pretend that his skin was green and that he had yellow eyes, to match his yellow bike. Which was really his spaceship. Tommy was a well-liked alien on the planet Earth because Tommy The Alien could go fast. Tommy was pedalling fast around the corner, head down, crushing down the sidewalk, up along the side of his ...