Rolling My Eyes

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 ...

My Roommates moved out. And left their cat. My Roommates said they would be back. I do hope they meant for their cat. Not that My Roommates' cat requires much, to be honest. Besides a open Front Door once in awhile and my front lawn to roll all her grey fur upon; Smokie seldom even eats here. And although The Grass is starting to yellow in spots, I do my best not to blame Smokie. Indoors, Misty is my lovely cat. Misty is approaching five years old. Misty was unsure that she was a cat. She would growl if someone knocked upon my Front Door. In fact, I am certain Misty really had no clue what she was. Even after living with Lucy, for a year, back three years a go. (Don't you mean Lucifer? The Voice is laughing at me, over my shoulder, as I type this. And I will let you all know that I only turn to glare at The Voice, for Lucifer was indeed Lucy's real name.) My Roommates' cat has a most lovely growl, as well. Accompanied, usually, with a tremendous hiss. The spittin...

James cut the engine and slammed his hands on the steering wheel, gripping and wanting to shake it, as the boys leapt at the car, happy and reaching in to pat him on the back. Fucking third ,he thought. The boys were thinking the same thing, but with exclamations points. The boys were happy. It was their best finish all season. And that is what pissed James off. He took off his helmet, felt the dirty sweat gripped to his head like ooze, and got out of the car. He did smile at the boys. He just looked at the sky and ignored everything else, but the smell of burnt rubber, always dirty in his nostrils. And he thought of the word dirty, and he thought of Jews and he thought of Niggers, and he knew dirty was a bad word, had been back as long as his goddamn mind could remember. And if what he smelt was goddamn dirty, why the fuck was he doing it? I am 36 years old, his thoughts just continued. 36 years old.

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. And now it was after dark, and after the stories. It was after Sissy. It was after another two joints. Minnie was so stoned, she did not realise she was rocking Lydia, in her arms, not noticing until she felt the faded yellow hair trail down her arms; Tommy with his hands, dragging down on the dolls legs; gently, until the doll broke free from her. "I didn't do it, either, Tommy," Minnie whispered, just a whisper and she did not look up. She did not stop rocking. And Tommy noticed Lydia and Minnie both had red lines for mouths. It just doesn't matter, he thought, and then their lips were touching; just like that, and it was hunger and he could taste her mouth, taste her lips and she could taste him, too. Bitter nicotine on the tip of her tongue. Tommy noticed his hands clenched to her shoulders, pushing her shirt from her shoulders. He wanted to kiss the skin there and so he did. He felt her...

...they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and every body goes "Awww!" `Jack Kerouac On The Road

Upon the completion of the reconstruction of the un-motorised motorhome, Tim believed nothing bad could touch them again because his reason led him to believe lightening never struck in the same place twice, so why would a tornado? But as we can previously recall, all Tim's walk that fine line between stupid and idiot. Further proving our mutual knowledge, not understanding the value of money, Tim bought seven cases of beer with the cash he had saved on replacing the roof. Tim decided he was going to have himself a party. The party would be on the very next night. A Friday! But since it was Thursday and there were seven cases of beer, Tim decided he could drink one of those cases on this Thursday. And at least another on Friday! Tim was really happy. He thought it was a wonderful Thursday. But it was on this Thursday, in the night, when they were sitting outside and around the Hibatchi, roasting hot dogs with Justin, who had dropped-in, so Justin was drinking beer, too, whil...

Jill thought she should maybe write the journal. It was fast becoming her final decision. Her therapist, Johnson, said it would help. Jill knew Johnson really meant do something, anything. Don't give up. Life is good! Whatever. Jill knew she had never liked writing, but she thought about Johnson's words and she had rationalized down to: when was the last time she had wrote anything besides a grocery list, anyway? Jill knew she liked to talk and that is why Jill was a telemarketer. Higher paid than most. Her therapist was praised often, by others, who seemed sane. Jill would follow his advice. Jill thought to stop at the Wal-Mart on her way home. She needed dog kibble. She needed shampoo and a plant. And she needed a notebook, too, she reminded herself, when she walked through the doors of Wal-Mart. But Jill soon forgot, and then remembered, while she was in the checkout line. When she saw the bright orange notebooks. For ninety-seven cents. So, Jill bought one, and a bla...

February 14th Minnie, I just got home from visiting my grandmother in the hospital. I brought her some flowers. Some pink ones. I think they are carnations. She is always planting flowers. All over her bedroom. And in anything. Margarine containers. Pill bottles. She always buys me things on Valentines Day. Not just a card or some chocolate. I get that stuff, but I also get a new outfit (that is always cool) and things like walkmans and shit, too. It's kinda like it is my birthday. She usually kisses me like a hundred times. I can't stand it, to be honest, when she is kissing on me. She is always buying me shit, and I…never buy her anything. So, I went to cut a few lawns with Bobby on the weekend and bought her the flowers. Then I just sat there with her. She did not wake-up, but she is not going to wake-up, anyway. I remember the first time up there, at the hospital to see her, like three weeks a go. This nurse says to me, 'Talk to her; she will hear you....

Jack was a mighty, jolly chap. It is even what he considered himself to be. Yes, Jack was quite the fellow. Jack fancied polka-dots on his ties, only for the wearing of this type of tie, fit his definition of what it meant to be a fellow. Jack believed the world was his stage, that he was the lead actor and that everyone else on earth were co-stars, but only to each other. Jack lived his life. His way. Jack was jolly, so he was allowed to, by and large, by others. And others could never figure out why Jack was as jolly as he was, for Jack was as skinny as hunger. In his shiny black suits, to outfit his polka-dot ties. One time, Jack walked into a house and it had pale blue walls in the kitchen. White, painted polka-dots stood up from these walls, too. Jack bought the house and Jack lived in the house, although the kitchen had been the only room he fancied, in the entire house. Jack found the backyard was too big, too. But Jack was jolly, anyway. Fred, who lived next-door to Jack, ...

I started a new Everyday, just over a month a go. I was able to ensure what I always have ensured before. That most Everyday is another day that I get to open my eyes and my ears get to hear my Alarm Clock Music. Taking place at a definite 7:30 a.m. Most Everyday. This should make me smile. Except for-there is This Bird. This Bird that makes noise. Louder than all the other birds. At 7:30 a.m. I do not know This Bird. I have never seen This Bird. And I do not want to, either. I am already guilty of throwing a cup of coffee out of my bedroom window, last week. And I can blame it on This Bird, if I want to. I fear I would become Al Bundy, if I ever laid eyes upon This Bird. My new Everyday can be a lot of fun. But it is not as...stimulating as my last Everyday. And The Voice agrees. Just admit it, The Voice will say to me. You are getting lazy. When The Voice says this to me, I get mad. I tell The Voice to Bite Me. Because my new Everyday has a more...relaxed atmosphere than my las...

Minnie was 14. She liked wearing bright red lipstick and getting high. She did not think Tommy noticed her in the school parking lot. But he knew she was there. She was always there. It was where they used to go together. Tommy did not know what to do, after reading Minnie's letter. So, Tommy put the red envelope into his back pocket and then he just walked away. Tommy raised his hand only five minutes after his math class had begun and asked if he could be excused to the washroom. He did not have to go. When Tommy arrived in the blue-stalled bathroom, he sat on one of the toliets and Tommy read Minnie's letter again. Then, he crumpled her letter into a ball. Tommy had felt his fist clench tightly, felt his hands weild all his mighty, Tommy power upon paper. Which somehow seemed wrong, so Tommy loosened his grip. He smoothed out the paper, on his knee; with his hand. And Tommy read the letter again, before going back to algebra. Tommy saw Minnie a lot during the rest of...

A few weeks a go, my son and I were on our way towards home, a short trip to the variety for milk. Terri poked her head outside of her front door. "You want a cat?" she asked. "No," I replied. "Well, how about a kitten?" "O.K." I replied back that time and watched a smile spread across my son's face. "You better pick the cutest one," I threatened him, as we walked up Terri's steps. And so the parade began. One unfortunate kitten had lost his paw, after birth. A neglectful mother bothered not with umbilical cords, and his own had twisted around his foot, and now the stump thumped on the floor, when he walked. Thus he was named, 'Thumper'. An ugly cat with a ugly brown circle of fur above her lip was fondly called 'Madonna"; Terri laughed, bent, as she sputtered the name. The other four were called Cat. Or sometimes, Kitty. I had not even looked over the other four, when my son held out a small ball of grey fur...