Rolling My Eyes

Edward Julian Watson kissed like a frog, his gaping wide-open mouth is all tongue long enough to lick to the back of her molars and beyond. He mashed his face hard into her mouth whenever he kissed her and his teeth bit painfully into her lips and when she reacted in pain, he seemed to like it more. He wasn't pleasant to kiss. Becki wonder why she even bothered at all. But she knew why. She felt obligated to. Edward Julian Watson was always asking Becki out on dates. Fantastic dates. He would say to her: “Becki, I would like to take you to the turtle race down at the Farmers Market this Saturday morning.” “Becki, there is a King Arthur festival at the edge of town. How does Friday evening sound?” "Becki, And presently, "Becki, Becki always wanted to do the things he asked. Every single one of them. The dates sounded charming to her ears. Indeed, Edward Julian Watson was quite the man. Besides the kissing there were other things Becki did not like about Edward Ju...

3:33 p.m. Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. The stairwell was warm with brown carpet and cream walls. The stairwell was warm with the smell of piss. Three year old boys on their playground and grown men with even less sense of themselves. Minnie and Krystal sat on the second step of the first floor, so they had time to move if anyone needed up or down the stairs of the five-story apartment building. Minnie and Krystal were on LSD. "This sucks. I am high and this sucks," said Krystal, rubbing at her hair, head bent and sighing. "Amber is taking forever. Let's get outta here." "No," Minnie said. "Amber paid for the acid. I'm waiting for her." "Well, I am not,” Krystal wore her scowl, stood up , patting her legs, her purple jeans. "Maybe I'll go find Micky and Tommy." "Have fun," Minnie smiled up at her. bitch... Krystal smiled back at Minnie, too; and then she left....

"Bisakah anda bicara... english?" The words slow and broken as they were read. She saw kind eyes pleading towards her and somewhat desperate. "I speak inglis little," she replied. She saw relief flow into this bright haired and blue eyed mystery. She let her eyes drop down then traced them up slowly over the sandled feet, on past the curve of hips in the soiled kakis and up to the roundness of her breasts. At last, it was the cool white V of flesh peaking from the unbuttoned collar of her shirt that held them. A hand was placed on her shoulder. "Today, you will be my saviour." Her eyes looked up into the blue. "My name Onahjay," and she placed her fingers on top of the hand. The blue eyes looked over her new friends dirty rags and swollen belly, wondering why in the streets so late. "Can I call you Jay?" The two stood looking at each other for a while. There was nothing else really to say.

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. “Walk me home after school,” she offered Tommy, as she passed him in the corridor, bumping him with her elbow. She was on the way to her history class. He watched, as she walk away, in her skirt; black, red and white plaid. Her hips straight. Blue sneakers squeaking down the hallway. Tommy waited for her after last class, looking tall, leaning against her locker. She liked how he looked in his blue jean jacket. When it was warm weather, Tommy would roll the cuffs up, but it was the first week in October. “Have you missed me today, Tommy?” she asked him. Tommy wished he knew what to say to her, but he hardly ever did. Tommy shrugged his shoulders and looked away from her. He noticed Mick walking out of the front doors of the school with Melanie Atkins. It was quiet. Minnie and Tommy glanced at each other sometimes, as they passed the joint between themselves. They sat on the bleachers overlooking...

Shifting I love Sunday Nights. I try to leave them free whenever I can. Sunday Nights are the nights I stay up until I do not want to. 3 A.M. at the very least. Because I hate Mondays. I do everything and anything I want to do for myself on Sunday Nights. I may or may not answer my phone. Because I may be in the bathtub for two hours. Or doing crosswords. Or might be in the land of fairies. Or Waterfalls. I have as much fun as I can on Sunday Nights because I hate Mondays. The place where I go Everyday has recently requested a required change to my daily hours. Quite lovely of the people in charge, I thought, when I saw my new hours for the first time. But I am not going to complain because I am fairly new there. And because of Mondays. I do not have to arrive at my Everyday until two in the afternoon on Mondays. And I hate Mondays. This is pretty cool, I thought, out loud. I can do things on Mondays. Like sleep! You don't even like to sleep-in, The Voice...

Nine Years Old The backyard was such a waste. Looking at it often made Tommy empty with thought. Nothing could be found for pretending with the uneven ground and the sad patches of grass and stone. The tree; short with pale bark. The fence line weeds. Tommy wished just once that they could move to somewhere with a nice backyard, so he could have some fun. ...but somethings never change , Tommy thought and felt grown-up, as he sat on the old wooden porch. It was painted red; flaking and all of the little pieces seemed to be pricking and sticking into his skin. He would brush at the blonde hair on the back of his leg often. The air tasted bitter, dirty. A fat rain drop landed on his colouring book. And then another. Enough to see through to the traces on the next page. He looked towards the kitchen window. The square patch of light. He could see the clock. It made Tommy noticed the lightbulb stuck, jutting out of the wall beside the backdoor for the first time; the soft yello...

Thank you...

MISTLETOE By Queenie I Saw You With Your Hands 1999 Tommy saw her. The snow danced in front of him, fat and plenty and heavy from the night sky; shimmering in the short glow of the streetlights. The headlights. Dim flashes of the seasons colours, blinking, muted in Tommy's background. The snow made the night awash with a cold brightness, blindly blocking views of the life around him. The Christmas shoppers and their loud packages. He could hear last minute swearing underneath breath. But he saw her. With him. And he was trying to grab her purse. Tommy was wearing his Reeboks. And so he stopped him. Above Your Head 2000 They were walking and almost to Tommy's car. “You did not seem to like the show,” Tommy bit the side of his mouth and looked at her. She looked up at him surprised, “No, I did.” “Are you sure?” he said. “I thought about it after I had the tickets. You work down here. You probably see all these shows whenever you want.” She laughed. He had no idea. “I ...

He walked out of the store; his legs alive, as were his steps. The Christmas carols that had been playing inside the store, also greeted him outside; blaring from the white speakers embedded into the green overhang. Dogs barking jingle bells. “Oh, my, what will you do with all of those?” asked the old lady in the purple coat with brass buttons. She paused; arm reaching for the pet store’s door. She smiled at him, her teeth just starting to gray. Unnatural pink lipstick. She was happy. He smiled back at her, pausing. His arms full of cage, holding four white rabbits. “I am working my way up to lambs,” he replied to her and smiled some more. Her body stopped; stiffened and her face blanched, a small, rosy circle on each cheek. He did not see the puddle as he continued walking to his car, but his socks felt the water fast, seeping through his sneakers. He stood at the kitchen table. Silver edge. Coloured top. The rabbits did not look nervous anymore, sitting in the large silver cag...

...Old Stuff

She was determined in her eye. "You just go on and get. Do what you got to do, Sir," she said, looking up at him; feeling the dust from the dry, empty road, as it swirled around her ankles and up into her skirt. "Why you gonna be saying that? You want to forget my name already?" She looked down at her arms; straight and folded hands, before she looked back up to him. Soft. "I really should be going, too. I said to Esther-." "What is wrong with you, Woman?" he demanded, throwing his hands to his thighs. “Dob says all is good. He is ready for me.” "So, then, you have just gone and given-up, have you, William?" "Aw, Helen, that place ain't opening back up; I have been telling you this," William shook his head. "Damn. You never listen." "Oh, I listen just fine," she snapped back at him; curling in her nails, barely. Catching dust and air. The trees rustled behind her; up in her ears. She wanted to...

Minnie was 14. She liked bright red lipstick and getting high. The music was always playing in her room; always barely lit. let them them leave you up in the air let them brush your rock and roll hair They were on the bed. Minnie laying on her side and beside her, Samantha; on her back. Lips soft. Tongues softer. They kissed. It made the breathing seem heavier; almost as loud as the music. Minnie moved her lazy arm, laying across Samantha's nightgowned stomach and slowly slid her hand upwards. Samantha breathed even deeper and Minnie kissed her, as her hand reached up to feel nipples hard beaneath the cloth. Minnie moved her upper body closer to Samantha; pressing her tits to Samantha's body. Rolled Samantha's nipple in her palm. And Samantha moaned. Minnie lifted her whole body overtop of Samantha. "Boys will want to," Minnie reassured her. Still rubbing the same breast, the same way; Minnie lowered herself onto Samantha. And she rubbed her body against hers a...

This morning my alarm clock did not want to wake up. Instead of beeping, it said softly, "It is cold, you should go and fix the heater." I did not want to. "Stop being lazy," I told it. "You should get up and take a shower." But my alarm clock ignored me, and sat there glaring with red, tired eyes. I pulled the covers up close around my neck. I considered ducking my head under them, and tried it for a minute. It felt wonderful. I determined to stay there for hours.

Today I do not have to go where I go Everyday. It is pouring rain when my child walks in the door of his school. The sky was nasty, grey, dark. I hid under the covers until noon. I watch the sunlight stream through front window; five minutes after 12. I marvel the bluest of skies and puffy white clouds. Canada has been so colourless lately. But when I step out my door, the wind wants to knock me over and I want to run in to hide back under my covers. But I have to pay my rent. I write on the bus for the first time in a long time. Lately, I have been having to read, instead. "Would you like to do your banking online?" the bank teller says, too grandly. I wait for him to sweep his arm in an arc. He grins, and waits for my answer. I grin back. "No." "I can get you a password, right now!" "No, that's okay. I would forget it." He taps my cable bill. "It might make you remember other things,' he cocks an eyebrow at...

Grandma had The Livingroom. No one was suppose to go in there unless it was Christmas Day. But Grandma let you go in The Livingroom if you needed to lie down or if you wanted to do something quiet or if you wanted to follow her around while she watered the plants. There were two huge windows in the room; wood crossing wood and morning sunlight pushing through. Grandma would let me play with her Glass Dolls. I would line them up on the thick carpet. And play. My favorite was a girl with blushing cheeks, holding her herself in a green gowned curtsy. I thought she was Cinderella. So, many years later, Aunt Sue said something about the Royal Doultons and my Grandmother's death. My Grandma laughed. I piped up, "Oh, I do not want one of those. I want the green girl." Grandma replied, "Which one?" Then she got up and went into The Livingroom. She came back out holding her. "This one?" "Yeah," I said and smiled. "Your Mother ...

Chapter One You'll Find Something "I miss you," he whispered, into the phone. Sarah smiled because she missed him, too. "It is just another week until we see each other," she continued to smile. "I am so tired of this motel room. Thank god this show is almost done." "I wish I could have been there every night to watch you," he said. "Oh, yes. I am all shiny. I am a star!" she laughed and he laughed, too. "Do you remember what I told you about Dylan a few days a go? What he tried to do with the new colt?" he suddenly asked. "No," she replied. Chapter Two That's Enough To Keep You "I miss you," he whispered, into the phone. Chelsea smiled because she missed him, too. "I miss you," she replied. "Just two more weeks, then I will see you. We can go to the beach," he said. "I cannot wait until I have nothing to think about," Chelsea answered. "Although, I think ...

"Slow down," my son demanded from behind me, as we walked along to the store last night. "Whatever for?" I turned to ask, for I had not been walking fast. "I am trying to jump over your shadow!" he said and laughed. So, I walked even slower and he jumped over my shadow walking along behind me. Until a streetlight shot my shadow ahead of me. "Hey!" said my son, as he ran in front of me. And stomped on my shadow. "Hey!" I said. "Are you trying to hurt my shadow?" "No," he said. "That is good, or I would be stomping on your shadow's head right now." He laughed. And stomped on my shadow's head. So, I stomped on his shadow's head. And laughed. "Shadows are fun!" said my son. I beckoned him close to me. "I know some shadow secrets," I said, bending down towards him. "Watch our shadows." I pointed and followed his eyes to our shadows. It was funny my Moth...

Minnie was 14. She liked bright red lipstick and getting high. And she needed to get high right now. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched her father, as he raged. She watched him twist off his tie; his hand suddenly flying in the air. "Nowhere!" he yelled. Then he slammed his fist down into the green countertop; knuckles deep. Minnie wanted to close her eyes. "And go get that shit off your face. I do not know why you would even think I would let you out of this house looking like a whore. Jesus Christ, does your Mother let you leave the house like this in the morning?" He grabbed his drink from the counter and stepped closer towards her. "My daughter is a little whore," he said. He shrugged his shoulders. He shook his head. He laughed; looking upwards. "My daughter is a whore," he said, softer. Minnie bit her lip. "You're such a bastard," she said. She had to or she would cry. His finger flung up into her f...

She hitchhikes back and forth, from the Wal-Mart to the grocery store everyday. It is not so far; just a few miles. It is easier for her to ask for money when only one person is looking at her, when she is able to look at them and know they hear. She tells the woman she has a child, just a child. Her baby boy; he is so big now. He just started Kindergarten. And she has to be out here. Because she has to feed her child. She just needs the ride to the grocery store. She has been looking for work. In the mornings. But she has a child she has to feed. God, she hates to beg, but she has no choice. She cannot bring anything home to her child unless she does. A child needs to eat. The woman gets to be the hero. If she wants to. If she needs to. She tells the man she has a child, a child waiting for her at the other store. Just a young child and she is late. She puts the worry in her voice. She has lost her wallet. A few dollars to get us the rest of the way home? The man can save th...

It was an off grey over most, such that you would almost think brown on a cloudy evening. The sort of evening though where the clouds gave way to the moon. The eyes were blue. On the second day, I named her Sam, just in case. As a rule, Cats are Girls, and I figured Sam was, too. But you can never be too sure and have to watch them a bit before you decide. She had looked up at me from my blue cloth chair on that second day the same as the first. I looked back down at her on the first day the same as I had on the second, and locked my door. I did not kick her though. Or say, 'shoo cat' as I might normally. She seemed to belong there, on the porch, on the blue fold-out chair. On the night of the second day, it was canned chicken that had to do. She still looked off grey rather than brown. Sam didn't seem to mind that it was not tuna. She apparently hadn't eaten for a while. After several mouthfulls and rapid chewing, she stepped away and put her back too it. Then ...

Eight Years Old We were walking up Chapel Street hill in the dark. My brother was done his Thursday night meeting with other boys. My mother and I were done our weekly trip to the library. There were no leaves. There were no patches of green. Snow crunched beneath our steady footfalls. The air bit up inside of my nose and my cheeks tingled with chill. My breath was a steady stream of white that would sometimes mask the stars that I would often look up at. I was not tired as we walked up the hill. I was not cold. I had a good book in my bag, I knew. We would be home in time to watch The Cosby Show. My mother sometimes looked up at the stars, too.

We huddled close together, but not for comfort. It was the darkest night, yet the moon was full. There were heavy midnight clouds passing over often, hiding the white glow of the orb. It left the night too cold. He grabbed me when the train came. I listened to the murmurs of the others board, some of them already thankful. Some of them already forgetting. He stood us there until the train pulled away. I watched the other men left behind mull around waiting for orders. All their voices were thick and low. Mostly ugly words fell from their mouths. When he told them to leave, they did not question him. He dragged me across the grassland and I could hear her, the woman who had lost her children, somewhere near. She was pure animal now, past any point of misery. "Wir können sie töten," he taunted me in my ear; he laughed. If I had been younger, I would have offered to do it. I wanted to kick her in her teeth. End her. She was gone, already. The sound of the gun surprised...