My Short Story

Hi everyone, I decided to try my hand at some real writing. I wrote, what is right now, a short story. It is the premise for a longer story, but this is just the beginning. I thought I would post it here to try and get some feed back. Please enjoy and let me know what you think. Thanks.

Brian


HER - A Short Story


I saw her. How could I not? Even though the room was filled with hundreds of people all celebrating our most important victory in years, she was all I could see.

Her hair was the first, and easiest, part of her to notice. Thick, wavy red hair. Not strikingly red, but certainly not brunette or some horrid fake red that other dumb college girls try to get noticed. She wasn’t tall, but you would never know it the way she hovered angelically above the drunken masses. She appeared to have a great body, although it was covered with the kind of clothes one might wear to a Saturday night football game during a Louisiana October. I assumed the best.

I knew I had to meet her, but how? I sucked at talking to girls. I wasn’t a babbling idiot, but I never knew what to say. In hindsight, I know it was all due to my lack of self-esteem and fear of rejection. That and I was high. But I needed to figure out a way to meet her, get to know her, date her, marry her. This was going to take all of my skills.

My friend Clay was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear him. I was too focused on her. I wanted to know who she was, what was her favorite song, did she like Mexican food? Clay kept talking, but I still couldn’t hear him. I couldn’t even remember that we had just beaten the #1 team in the country earlier that evening. She must be special because LSU football was more important to me than anything in the world and I had forgotten about one of the greatest victories in the history of our school.

I knew I had to do something. I had to at least say “Hi” to her. I mustered up all the courage I had in my intoxicated body, dismissed Clay’s ramblings and headed towards my love. Could I really do this? What if she told me to fuck off? I couldn’t handle that. My alcohol impaired emotions would be crushed by the rejection and the scornful giggles of her friends that were sure to follow. I was nervous and scared, but the thought of not meeting my wife sent shivering pains down my spine.

Over the intense speakers it began. The song that could unite us all. Our beloved fight song. The rhythmic overture that meant only two things, collegiate unity and free Jaegermeister at the bar. Yes, of course! That is exactly what I needed. More liquid encouragement. I made a b-line for an open spot at the increasingly crowded bar. I felt lucky to have gotten so close. It must be my night. The bartender hopped up on the beer slicked counter top and began filling the mouths of my drunken patrons Each of us dying of thirst having not had a sip of alcohol in seconds. My turn came and the bartender slid the familiar green bottle over my nervous mouth to ease its tension and filled me with the strength to overcome my insecurities. As my mouth began to overrun with the vile, but delicious nectar, I had a fleeting thought that maybe this much straight alcohol in my system on top of all the other substances I had ingested that evening, legal or not, was not a good idea, but it was much too late now. The bartender topped me off and moved on to the next screaming bird with an outstretched neck.

At this point, I had two choices: (1) spew what had to be four or five shots worth of Jaeger all over the bar embarrassing myself thoroughly but saving the part of my brain that controlled speech or (2) swallow every last bit of it and forge ahead with my plan, hoping I could muster some Shakespearean stanzas that would ensure my pending marriage.

I chose the latter seeing how public embarrassment right now would not do much for my cause. So, I swallowed it, all of it in one giant gulp. Instantly I knew my earlier thought was right. As the Jaeger began to mix with the rest of the pollutants in my body, a war broke out in my stomach. Quickly, the combatants, a mixture of beer, hard liquor and bong resin, thrashed violently, clashing inside not unlike a WWF Royal Cage
Death Match, except this was very real.

I began to sweat and became intensely worried. There were about a thousand things wrong with what was happening to me. Each scenario worse than its predecessor. If I stayed where I was, I was going to become quite ill all over the bar, a fate far worse than
just spitting out the Jaeger. I could try to make a break for the bathroom, but I would have to pass her along the way and she would most certainly know what was wrong with me. Not to mention it was impossible to get anywhere quickly in the bar after a game. If I thought I was nervous when I started this adventure, it was nothing compared to what I was feeling now.

My fate seemed to be sealed, but there was still no clear answer to my problem. In the past, having felt this way on numerous occasions before, I could only think of one solution. Try to conquer the internal strife. It was my only choice. Whenever I was about to throw up, my mouth always began to water uncontrollably. I leaned on the bar with my head slightly tucked so I could spit on the floor without looking like I was too drunk to be standing or, God forbid, like I was about to vomit.

I had thwarted vomiting before using this method of spitting a lot and I knew I had to now if I was going to be able to talk to her tonight. I had to. Who knows if I would ever see her again. As I spat on the floor adding to its filth, I tried to think of her face.

Despite my level of toxicity, I found it easy to vision her. The way her strawberry hair settled along the sides of her face, the sharp lines of her nose and the little mole just up and off the left corner of her thin, but shapely lips. She was beautiful. She was going to be my wife, I could feel it in my heart.

An eternity passed and eventually I felt as if I had a grasp on the situation. I had beaten the forces that surged inside of me and pushed them back past my burning esophagus down into my stomach. As my mouth watering decreased and I finally felt as I could face the world again, I snapped my head up in victory.

I snapped my head up way too fast! Everything that had settled in my stomach had now become a force that could not be reckoned with. It was going to happen right then and right there.

I quickly ducked my head down between my arms which were clinging to the bar. I no longer had the option of caring if anyone, especially her, saw me. I began throwing up on the floor all around my feet. Surely I was throwing up on the feet and legs of the people on either side of me, but there was nothing I could do at this point. I would have to deal with their wrath and the impending embarrassment when it was all over. It was not the biggest vomit of my life, but it had gotten the job done. When it was over, I rested for a second as the fear of what I was about to deal with sank in. The fight song having finally ended, I slowly lifted my head, this time, to face the anger and disgust.

No one was looking at me! Not the people on either side of me, not the people behind me, not any of the bartenders and especially not her. No one had seen me throw up my entire evening on the floor of the bar. I was shocked and amazed and relieved. So relieved, I didn’t bother telling anyone about the pending slippery law suit on the floor and just got the hell away from that spot. If no one saw me, who was to say that was my barf on the floor? All I knew was that the further away I was from the awfulness, the better off. I knew this was wrong and disgusting, but I didn’t care. At this point, it was much more important that no one knew anything about what I had just done.

As I retreated as quickly as my fellow patrons would allow, a different feeling of victory came over me. It was much different than what I had felt earlier after the game. It was more personal. I had been beaten by a foe, but came out on top. I liked this feeling. I felt strong and confident. Now was the time to meet her and talk to her. No one in the bar was braver than me. No one exuded the confidence I was beaming with. No one, that is, except for my breath which rapidly became apparent to me.

I couldn’t possibly talk to her now! Even though I was overflowing with confidence, my breath must of smelled like the inside of a welder’s glove. A welder that drank heavily and smoked an ass load of pot. I was upset by this reality and searched for a solution. Being where I was and without proper dental equipment, the only answer was to try and wash away the stank with what created it. More beer. I chose a new location at the bar to order my mouthwash.

Cleansing my breath was going to take a few rounds I knew, so I retreated to where my friends were congregated. I knew they wouldn’t notice my allure and if they did, they would most likely assume it to be their own. I drank at an upbeat pace while keeping one eye on her and faking interest in what was said around me.

Naturally, the more I cleansed, the drunker I got. My high had worn off, but drunk is much harder to get rid of. My confidence had worn thin and had lost the ability to effectively “hit” on a lady. This started to freak me out because I knew what I was missing out on. I was young and dumb (especially by this point), but I knew I was going to marry that girl and talking to her was a good first step. What the shell am I going to do now? Crap, even my thoughts were slurring.

And then, a fate worse than my breath. I saw her heading for the door. Shit. Am I blowing my one and only chance at true love here? Is this the moment that will keep me in therapy for years upon years? It can’t be. Spotting her in the bar was fate. Me throwing up at the bar a cruel side effect of my inhibitions. Do I let her go and find her another day? Do I rush after her and hurl myself into an awkward conversation in the parking lot with a captive audience of all her friends? Talking to her now certainly would prove a worse fate than letting her leave, wouldn’t it?

As she flowed out the door, her beautiful red hair bouncing gingerly on her shoulders, I stared until I couldn’t see her anymore. Then panic set in. “GO!!!” my inner voice screamed. Even though the voice inside my head usually led me astray when I was impaired, he sounded very convincing. I jumped up and bolted towards the door, bursting through and scanning the parking lot frantically. Where was she? Drunks, sorority girls, jackasses acting as if they were bad-asses, all blocking my view. Then I finally saw her. She was in the passenger seat of a car…pulling out of the lot. My heart sank with the weight of all my emotions.

What had I done? Was it all over? Was I doomed to a life of solitude?

No, it was fate that I saw her and it will be fate that would bring me to her again. I wouldn’t give up. It wasn’t that big of a campus. I would find her. I had to. She is my destiny.

Biblical Queeries

I'm back. I was away for a bit. So what? Wanna fight about it?

I was thinking about what little I know about the bible. So, no, not a lot of thought goes into this, but I had some questions that led to more questions and I needed to get it down on theoretical/theological paper.

A lot of crazy stuff happens in the old testament. Seas parting, bushes burning, clouds talking and loads of people buying it all. What happened to all that stuff? The buying it all stuff is definitely still happening, but people have become lazy. They are just assuming things now. If all that stuff did happen, why isn't it happening anymore?

The best we can get now is secondary characters appearing in a tortilla. Is heaven in a recession? Is God laying off angels up there?

For that matter, what would a laid off angel become? Is Hell their only other option? I am sure Lucifer is hiring. With all the sin, racism, anti-semitism, hate crimes, rape, murder, child pornography, gangs, pedophiles, adultery, incest and what not going on it would seem that there is more than enough devilship to go around.

Guess that makes me feel better to know that our winged friends will have work even though us less fortunate, non-glory living souls are stuck on this rock jobless, watching the unemployment rate skyrocket. Probably shouldn't of bought that skyrocket (tribute to Mr. Show). Maybe I should send a resume on down to Satan's HR reps? Is Hell PC or Mac?

WANTED: Hate mongering, satanical go-getter with excellent written and verbal communications skills needed for a role of a after-lifetime. No bonusses and benefits include eternal damnation. Must like warm weather.

But, I digress. Back to my original point...with all the crap we are going through in today's world, how come we can't get any real divine interventions? If the bible is accurate and true and not just a book of fiction that has been translated and rewritten hundreds of times, how can anyone not say it is a farce based on the lack of evidence?

Did the big G just decide that he had spoken enough to his creations? Now that science (oooh, scary word) has proven that humans have evolved to be smarter, are we too smart to accept the word of God? Would we overly interpret it too much so as to prove it as a coincidence? Yea, I think so.

Just some of the thoughts rumbling through my rental property just above my neck. Depending on where I am standing, it could be ocean front.

And now, WWJEFL (What Would Jesus Eat For Lunch).