Wow, it's been a long time since I've written any short stories. I forgot how much I enjoyed them. I wrote this last night in about 6 hours or so. I've given it a decent amount of editing but not a lot, so my apologies for any errors. I hope you enjoy the read
Walking up to the counter never gets any less awkward.
I stand here every week, pretending to look at the popular movies, feigning interest in the new releases until I work up enough balls to go up to the checkout and make my purchase. The cashier is going to read the titles out loud, I know she will. She always does.
“
Up and Cummers 3, Busty Butts Volume 2, and
Sexy Sorority Sisters 12. You want anything else?”
“Uh… No, no, that’s all.” I stammer.
“It’s 14.95, debit or credit?”
“Oh… um, credit.” Debit is always faster, yet, in a pinch, I always reflexively say credit.
The machine prints up my receipt and the cashier rips the paper out and hands it to me.
“Sign here please.”
“Okay.” I sign my name, David M. McAllister, as quickly as I can and hand it back to her.
“The bottom copy is yours, sir.” She hands me the bottom copy.
“Oh, sorry—thanks.”
“Thanks for shopping at Family Rentals, have a nice day. “
The cashier bags up my porn movies and hands them to me. It’s a plastic bag… Plastic bags are see-through. Brilliant. I look around; a woman behind me with her kids gives me a dirty look. Doing my best to pretend that I don’t feel her eyes on me as I exit, I walk out the door.
Moms are always offended. They give you that look that says, “I can’t believe I’m standing in the same
building as you.” It’s like a scoff, without making any noise. It makes me want to look them in the eye and say, “I’m sure that you and your husband had perfectly standard, missionary-style sex to produce all of your children, right?” I don’t ever actually do that, though.
I grab the keys out of my pocket and head for my car. Fastening my seatbelt, I start the engine.
Why should this process be so awkward? The cashier isn’t offended by my purchase—she’s not grossed out by it. She’s not happy either, though. She just… doesn’t care. I guess if you work in a video store for long enough, you build up an immunity to ringing-up porn. Sure, maybe the first 5 or 6 times you see “Tantalizing Titties” on the checkout screen, you might laugh, but I guess after a while it just becomes part of your day.
The car comes to a stop and I flip down the sun visor, hitting the button on my garage-door opener.
Most people just aren’t comfortable with the idea of someone renting porn. I guess it’s because no one actually watches porn for the artistic value. Except the people who work in the porn industry, that is. What a riot; the porn industry awards its actors and actresses with “Emmys” of sorts, just like the real film industry does. I think of it as a sort of “gold star for the slow kids in class” type-thing. Speaking of, I wonder what percentage of the slower kids in kindergarten end up being porn stars when they get older. I’d like to see those numbers on a pie chart.
Finally home, I plop my wallet and the movies down on the counter and throw some left-over McDonald’s into the microwave.
I think everyone has a hidden desire to catch someone renting porn at the video store. Even the moms. No, especially the moms. It gives them some sort of personal satisfaction—I think they get off on making people feel bad about how they spend their time. If mothers ruled the world, everyone’s time would be spent at meaningless family functions. Nothing would ever get done, and everyone would always be miserable.
I turn on the TV and press the Eject button on my DVD player. I grab one of my movies, place the DVD in the tray, and push it closed. My phone rings before I can sit down.
“Hello?”
“Davey Mac in the hooouuusseee!”
“Oh, hi Ben.”
“Dave. Dude, dude, dude. Dude. DUDE. Dude, seriously.”
“ … Yes?”
“Okay dude just listen to me, just listen. Okay okay okay, Josie and Hailey are gonna be at Gary’s tonight!”
“Who?”
“Two hotties man, hotties! You gotta come, you gotta!”
“No, who the hell is
Gary?”
“You remember Gary, from school. He’s cool dude—but seriously, HOTTIES.”
“Oh… Gary, right.” Now I remember Gary. I don’t like Gary. “I dunno, I’m… kinda busy tonight.”
“Porn and McDonald’s, AM I RIGHT?”
“What!? No…” Damn it.
“Yeah yeah yeah, okay. Anyway I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes.” Ben hangs up before I can say anything else, and I let out a long, drawn out sigh.
My friend Ben is pretty stupid, he goes to a lot of parties and talks to a lot of women, but I don’t think any of them ever have any actual interest in him. He gives me shit about never “hooking up” with anyone, but I’m not entirely sure that he’s ever gotten any himself. Either way, I’d rather not go to the party at all. Parties are lame; it’s just a bunch of drunken people hanging around and trying to talk to someone for long enough that they can comfortably suggest the idea of sex, before failing miserably and moving on to the next victim.
I can barely finish eating my left-overs before Ben shows up and starts beating down my door like a sex-crazed orangutan.
“Hoootttt chiiickks! Open the fuckin’ door dude!”
“Hey Ben. Come on in.” I say as I open the door.
“No no no, no, no. I’m not coming in, because we’re going OUT. Get your shit, let’s roll, bitch!”
“But I haven’t even finished eating my—“
“Good! That means more room for BEER! Hahaha.”
“… you’re insane. I’ll be right back, I’m grabbing my wallet and the rest of my burger. I’ll be right out.”
The most ridiculous part of this whole scenario is that the only reason I can come up with for why I attend these parties in the first place is because I don’t want to listen to Ben tell me how much of a “bitch” I am. I don’t really know why I value his opinion, I mean, look at him:
“DUUUUUUDE! Hurry the fuck up, pussy on the LOOSE!”
But, for some reason, every time, I end up hanging out with him.
I grab my burger, snatch my wallet off of the counter, and head out the door. Ben gives me that annoying, friendly punch on the arm as we walk to his car. He turns his obnoxiously loud stereo up to “retarded” volume and we head off towards the party. Pretty much every ride in Ben’s car can be summed up as an experience in trying to speak louder than the stereo. I don’t understand why he doesn’t just turn it down, but I’ve given up trying to make him.
Pulling up to the house, I can actually hear the music from inside over the music in Ben’s car. The place is packed; people are flowing in and out of the house like bees in a hive.
“Here we are dude! This party is sure to get you some poon-tang!”
“That’s really not a big deal, I—“. Some douche-bag wearing an upside-down-backwards sun visor walks up to us. It’s Gary.
“GAAAAARRRRYYYY! What’s up bro? This is my friend Dave,” Ben motions to me, “this party looks fuckin’ awesome dude!”
Ben and Gary pound each other’s fists. Gary gives me a nod. I nod back. They both walk off towards the opened garage door, so I follow them. There’s a table-tennis game going; ah, Beer-Pong, the sport of champions. That is, of course, if you define “champion” as Polo-wearing frat-boy asshole. Gary walks off with Ben through the garage, into the kitchen, and through to the living room. I hold up in the kitchen, propping my back up against some cabinets in a spot that it looks like no one will need access to.
I spend most of the night watching people walk around and drink beer. Every once and a while a cute girl comes by and I think about saying something to her, but before I can, someone drunken idiot steps in and lays down the cliché thick and good. The disgusting part is that it works. Almost every time. I don’t get it.
An hour or two in, Ben and Gary make their way back into the kitchen, looking adequately inebriated. They spot me from a crossed the room and head over. Just as I start to open my mouth and ask Ben when we are leaving, Gary grabs me by the shoulder.
“Dave… is it Dave?” He leans to Ben, “It’s Dave, right?”
“Yes, my name is Dave.” I reply, agitated.
“Dave, man, Ben here brings you to all these parties and all you ever do is sit in the corner by yourself. What’s up with that, man?”
Ben cuts in, chuckling, “Daw, Gary, leave him alone dude, he’s just shy.”
“No, I—I’m not shy. I just, don’t like parties much. Sorry?”
Gary rolls his eyes, “OH. You’re not shy; you just don’t like talking to people? I get it. So, you’re shy then!”
“…” I shoot Gary an irritated squint and a fowl smirk.
Gary leans over to Ben, “Man, why the fuck do you even hang out with this guy?”
Ben gives Gary a confused look, leaning away, “I dunno man, he’s my bro.”
“Well your bro’s a fuckin’ panzy, man. Hahaha.”
Ben laughs half heartedly as Gary gives him a shove. Pointing towards me, Gary looks at Ben and suggests, “Man, you shoulda left him at home, he’s just taking up space.”
Gary is laughing hysterically at his own comments. I’m pretty furious; I don’t want to be here in the first place, and now I have to put up with this piece of shit. Ben glances at me. I look back at Ben, and then I turn away. Garry is still laughing. Then, after a moment or two, I hear something unexpected,
“Hey, Gary, why don’t you shut the fuck up? Okay?” It was Ben.
At this, Gary looks at Ben, totally bewildered. Hell, I’m looking at Ben totally bewildered. I mean, Ben cusses all the time, but this was the first time that I had ever heard him say anything that really offended anyone, ever.
“Psch. Whatever, man.” Gary storms off.
I mean, I don’t really give a crap what Gary thinks. I’d rather not put up with him, but it’s not like I’d lose any sleep over what he said to me. And yet, Ben totally had my back.
“Hey, Dave, this party’s lame. You wanna get out of here, dude?”
“Uh… no. No, I’m cool.” I say, putting my hands up.
Ben is just as shocked at my response as I am at his actions, “You serious? Because, we can go…”
“No, no. I’m having a good time. I just… I… I think I need a drink.”
“You want a drink? Well dude, I guess there’s a first time for everything. Help yourself—it’s all Gary’s anyway, hahaha. I’m gonna go talk to some people downstairs, have fun dude!”
Ben walks off, and I take a shot, and I ponder. It’s disgusting; I don’t know how anyone actually enjoys this stuff. Another shot, and I ponder some more. Unfortunately, it takes me several shots to come to the conclusion that there isn’t enough alcohol and pondering in the world to explain why Ben is the way he is, and at the end of the day, all I know is that he is my friend.
At the point of this realization, a girl approaches me,
“You’ve been pounding those shots away all night, are you sure you can handle all that?” She’s cute. I’m not sure if that’s the alcohol or if she’s actually this cute.
“Hrmn?” I manage to respond, half smiling for no reason at all.
“I was just making sure you were okay, you’ve been downing shots for a while now…”
“OH. Yes, yes. I’m fine… mmmnm… and who might you be?”
“I’m Hailey. I know Ben and Gary from school. I don’t think I’ve ever met you before though…”
“I’m DAVE. Nice to MEET you. I’m Ben’s friend. Gary is a JACKass, haHAhaha. Ha. Ha!”
She giggles and covers her mouth with the back of her hand, “Yeah, Gary is kind of an asshole, I guess. Heh …so, what brings you here tonight?”
“Well, you see, I was gunna just stay home and watch PORN and eat McDonald’s all night… but now I’m here, so...” ... ... ... ... “WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” I make a raspberry noise with my tongue and my lips while flailing my arms in the air.
Hailey cocks her head to the side and gives me a wide-eyed look with a confused smile, then bursts into laughter, “Oh, well I suppose honesty is the best policy, hahaha.” She giggles a bit more, “I’m here because my friend Josie dragged me out—but I guess I didn’t really have anything to do anyway.”
“AH HAHAHA, my friend Ben is the same way, he always—“
Just then, Gary comes back into the kitchen. He seems surprised to see that I am still at the party, and visibly frustrated that I have downed most of his alcohol. He seems to have had quite a bit more himself. He yells something at me from a crossed the room. Gary looks absolutely pissed— so I smile and wave at him, then I give him a wink. Needless to say, this does not make him any less angry.
Gary stumbles up to me, pushing Hailey aside. My back to the wall, he gives me a hard shove and gets up in my face, “Hey fucker, that’s MY alcohol you’re drinking…”
I respond slyly, “What alcohol? All I see is an empty bottle!”
Before I can even finish smiling, Gary’s face turns red. Drunken and enraged, he swings straight for my head.
Somehow, in my intoxicated state, I manage to duck to the side quickly enough to dodge his fist, and he swings straight into the cabinets that are behind me. His knuckles hit the corner of the wood and ricochet off to the side, causing him to stumble backward. Taking advantage of his momentum, I stand back up, shoving him away from me. Gary falls to floor, clutching his throbbing right hand.
Wincing in pain, but still angry, Gary scrapes his feet on the ground, trying to regain his balance. He screams, “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” as he barrels towards me. At that moment, Ben comes into the kitchen and sees what’s just happened. He quickly heads over to me, grabbing me and rushing me out the door,
“Dave, I think it’s time to go dude!”
I lean over my shoulder as Ben pulls me out the door, bracing the doorway for a moment to search for Hailey in the crowd. I find her and our eyes meet, “It was nice meeting you, Hailey!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It’s been a week since the party, and I haven’t talked to Hailey—I never even bothered to ask for her phone number—but I think I wouldn’t mind talking to her again. At home, I pop some left over McDonald’s into the microwave. The porn DVD is still in my DVD player. I hit play, just as the phone rings. Pausing the DVD, I answer the phone. It’s Ben, he says there’s another party, and Hailey’s going to be there.
“I’ll see you there, Ben.”
Looks like I’m going to have to pay the late fee.
