Geoff Party Pt 1

It was a Thursday for Geoff. He went to class, took notes, tried not to stare at Aubrey in AP English, and obediently kept taking notes throughout the day. To him it was like any other day.

The news of Kate's dinner party ruled all of gossip. It was the only thing the people talked about. Not everyone was talking going to the party because most of the senior class wasn't invited. Kate'e party was "popular" crowd only. So maybe. the whole school wasnt talking about it, a good quarter of it was. Cool kids, rich kids, rad kids, annoying kids, etc. it didnt matter because Geoff wasnt associated with those people. He knew everyone, but was the slight outsider.

Lets look back to last weekend:

Kevin: "Holy fucking shit. I dont care what I do this weekend. All I know is I want to do is blow shit up, like my mind, get it?!?! YOU DONT, ugh you fucking suck. No, you suck, you know get fucked, you know get drunk, I dont know. Stuff."

Geoff: "Wow. Ok. I mean I'm game, I just didnt understand what you were saying. Are you, you know?"

K: "Yeeaaaaaaaaaaaaa."
G:"And you're my friend..."

That was Geoff. His good friend, Kevin, was high or doing something most of the time. Geoff wanted more out of life. His life at home was fine, but something was a little off about Geoff.

Lets look back to earlier this week as our example:

Aubrey: "Hey Geoff! Kate's party?! Exciting right?! Black tie! SO FANCY!"

Geoff: "What? Oh, yea. I guess I heard about that. Its invite only tough..."

Aubrey: "...oooh, I thought you knew Kate?"

Geoff: "Uh, I mean I guess, but even if i got invited, why would I even go? Its not like I will know anyone."

Aubrey: "Don't be a fucking downer. Come on, I'll drive you home."

Geoff: "ah, yeah, thanks."

What we dont see as readers, I mean I could type out the awkwardness between Aub and Geo, yeah abbrevs, but fuck it.

THURSDAY
*Middle of a hallway*
Kevin: "DUDE! What day is it? I have no idea where I am?"
Geoff: "Hallway Kev, a got damn hallway! REALLY!?"
Kev: "Right, right, right. Well I got this invite thing to some slut's party. Does it say they have beer? Fuck. I cant read! I mean I can, but literally right now, I my eyes/mind cant DO ANYTHING! FORWARD YA DICKS! sorry I was talking to my eyes there, i think..."
G: "What invite?! You didnt get a fucking invite?!" Geoff obviously grabs the invited from Kevin because why would he?!
     "Dude, you were actually invited! WHY WASNT I?!"
Kev: "Because I'm the stereotypical funny guy. Duh"
G: "I'm funny!"
Kev: "Shit, I also sell drugs."
G: "Damn, you got me there. FUCK! I have to get to class!"
--Class time--

*Whistle Blows*

At this point Geoff is feeling seriously depressed. Aubrey, who he thinks he would love to date, is invited to the party tonight and he is not. He hated the idea of the party but loved the idea of her going.

*Geoff running down the hall*

G: "Hey, Kev, wait up!"
Kev: "Dude, I have dime bags to sell to 8th graders, whaaaaaaaatttt is it, uuuuuugggggghhhhh?"
G: "Gimme your ticket to the party tonight."
Kev: "Why would I do that?!"
G: "Because I would give you a handy"
Kev: "If that was was true I might take it up on you, you ass. Wait. I think I have something."
G: "What? ANYTHING!"
Kev: "dibs on your sister!"
G: "SHES ONLY 16!" *slaps Kev in the dick* (Obviously, I would as the author)
Kev: "DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDEEEEE. HATE YOU!"
G: "What else?"
Kev: "A slurpee..."
G: "Thats its?!"
Kev; "im easy to please and was kidding about your sis"
G: "Fuck, well im not sorry about dick slapping you."
Kev: "No worries. Well here is the invite, its all yours."
 ------------------------------------------------------

Ugh, Really?!

Beep Beep, Beep Beep
"Hello...?"
"HEEEEEEY!!!!"
"Who is this???"
"Stacy, duh. Dont you remember me?"
"Uuummm, yeah...totally..." Pause "Yes, maybe. Probably?"
"Oh come on silly, we went to school together!!"
"Ooook. Im sure we did..."
"Seriously, Jason. We had Intro to Fiction together freshie year!!!"
"How did you get my number?"
"Your buddy Nick gave it to me, he said you thought, i'll quote him, He thinks you're neat! So like OMG gimme his number."
What the hell Nick?!?!? "Yeah, that Nick, he says the wackiest things."
"So, are you going to take me out on a date. I totally broke up with my BF to hang out with you!"
Dude, fuck this. Who the hell is this chick. NICK IS GOING TO DIE!
"Can you hold on for a minute or two?"
"For you, I'll wait a lifetime!"
Fuck this, I'm running upstairs and waking Nick up.
*KNOCK KNOCK*
"Knock knock you fucker!"
"Whoa, Jason, I'm trying to sleep man, and huuuuuungover as fuck. What the hell is the deal?"
"Stacy, you piece of shit! Some weird ass chick is blowing me up at 7am, what the hell is that about???"
"What are you talking about!?"
"DUDE, STACY! YOU DRUNK ASSHOLE!?"
"Wait, HAHAHAHA, dude, did she call you!"
"Fuck yes she did! I put her on hold to come up her and slap you in the dick for giving me her number."
"Oh man this is so fucking choice. Stay away from her though. She is def a clinger from hell. Like the kind where your mom thinks she's cool, but realizes she's a piece of shit and should work at Walmart and hate her life."
"That just sounds ridiculous and makes no sense."
"Hey, shes just on hold?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Oh it's just been like a 6 min or something. Bet she's still waiting for you. Aww, she probably is."
"I'm hoping she hangs up, I don't remember her at all. Did I even take intro to fiction? Fuck man, I studied Biology! WHO IS THIS CHICK!"
"HAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHAHA"
"I hate you so much. Ugh, I guess i should go hang up or something. McLaddies for breakfast and recoveries, ya know beers?"
"Do I look like a fucking noob. Duh. Its on. After I get some sleep and rub one out, so like around 1..."
"Gross dude, that's just gross."
"Lolz!"
Shit. Who is this chick? She sounds like a nightmare. Then again, I cant trust Nick for anything. She could be cute? She could be a clinger and just nasty? You know what, I dont care. Its been too long. Way too long.
Should I?????
"Hey, still there?"
"Like OMG, for you I am totally willing to wait!"
"Oook. Hey, McLaddies around 1. Be there."
"REALLY?!?!? OMG, I cant wait to tell Kelly!!!!!!!!!! EEEEEEEEEK IM SO EXCITED!!!"
"Yeah, should be interesting. Well talk to you later. Bye." *Click*
Welp, YOLO!

A Solitary Cup Of Coffee

A Solitary Cup Of Coffee

There are days where I enjoy the company of other people. Then there are the days where I embrace my solitude in my boring suburban fake-topia. The suburban lifestyle portrayed in 1950's-esque television was a fantasy. Fuck my neighbors and their chemically grown lawns, which are styled with their grotesque, gas polluting mowers.

Most days I hate rolling over and seeing my wife in my bed. I loved her at one point in my life, but all of that has faded along with any resemblance of my life. However, I am grateful for her, she makes my breakfast most mornings. What more can a man at 43 ask for? Sex? Well sure, but most days I won't get it up, only because I don't want to. I try to get out of bed before her and get in the bathroom. Even if I don't have to poop I'll just sit on the toilet and read until she leaves the room. After my successful bowel movement or catching up on the news I'll neglect showering and get dressed. I’ve cut out self grooming to three days a week. I can hear my wife humming downstairs in the kitchen. I bet she burnt the bacon.

Our conversations in the morning usually go like this:

Me: “Great. Breakfast.” (Not excited).

Wife: “Oh yes! How do you want your eggs? Coffee is in the pot.” (Too excited, not normal).

Me: “Like every other day, sunny side up.” I will then proceed to drink coffee. I tend to drink 4-6 cups a day. I’ve given up on drinking and have to rely and a crazy caffeine buzz to get through the day.

Wife: Humming some fucking song. When she's done humming and sets the plate of food in front of me I notice the bacon is burnt, I knew this would happen.

Me: “You burnt the bacon.”

That is the usual conversation we have most mornings with different variations depending on what sort of food she plans on ruining.

I finish my food and a few cups of coffee and I begin to gather my things to leave for work. My wife believes I still work as an engineer for the city, but I actually quit three weeks ago. Everyday since then I grab my coffee to go, get into my Prius, turn on NPR and drive for awhile. Some days I'll go to the library and read a book, usually Stephen King, other days I'll go to the coffee shop and spend a good twenty dollars on cups of black coffee, but today I'll just drive around until my gas runs super low. Today shall be quite the adventure! My wife works in the prosecutors office downtown. She earns most of the wages around the house, yet she still puts up with me.

Meanwhile at the prosecutor's office, Wife is going down on her boss while he talks a conference call.

As I'm driving around trying to get the last drops or coffee out of my travel mug, I realize I'm really bored driving around in my quiet Prius. I notice there is a local coffee shop a block ahead and make that my destination. I'm glad too because I am out of coffee. My coffee addicted taste buds are tingling knowing their fix is coming. It's a really small European Bistro. I like these kinds of shops. I can get fancy croissants and several shots of espresso.

I am clearly way older than everyone else in the cafe, most look college age and are probably wondering what I am doing here? Shouldn't he have a job? Why isn't he at his job? I should break their little hearts and tell them that after they graduate college its downhill. I should hate their judgmental glares above their Macbooks, but I’ve given up caring about what other people think. I haven't shaved in weeks and I look like I reek of old coffee, sweat, and failure. Jokes on them, I only smell of sweat and failure! HA!

As I am trying to decide what I want to order the barista, a cute twenty something with short hair, says:

“Hi welcome to Cafe Francois! What would you like today?”

I don't know what I want and I stumble my words, “Uh es-coffe-oo...oh I mean I would like a small coffee and a double coffee.” I am actually embarrassed. I haven't been embarrassed in years!

“Fantastique! That would be $8.50! Is that for here or to go?”

I hand her my credit card, “For here, si vous plait.” She didn't get that I said yes in French and I just feel sorry for her. I wait while she is preparing my drinks, I literally twiddle my thumbs. Its not just an expression anymore! She hands me the drinks and says, “Have a bon day!” I take my seat at an empty couch and take my espresso like a shot of alcohol. I think its probably frowned upon, but I don't think anyone noticed me. I sort through their different magazines they offer their patrons and find a few month Time and decide to give a read. After a several more cups of coffee, my head is buzzing and I'm fucking FANTASTIQUE! Its time for me to leave before I can calculate how much I just blew at the “bistro.”

I realize as I 'm driving around that its already past five, I spent six hours drinking coffee and reading outdated magazines. I decide to head home and make it back before my wife. I pull into my spot in the drive way, and as I step out of the car the caffeine rushes to my head so fast I fall over and blackout. The next thing I know my wife is standing over me and lightly nudging me to wake up.

Wife: “Honey, you were passed out in the garage, is everything alright?”

I feel really weird and must have had a crazy caffeine black out. I can only make weird sounds and grumble.

Wife: “I know this is a bad time, but I don't think things are going well. Something is clearly wrong with you these past few months. I think we need to discuss our future and whether or not we should get a divorce. What do you think? Hmm?”

Me: “Fucking fantastique.”

Fin

French Class

Do you remember the first person you fell in love within the five years? I assume most people cannot recall. That one person that just crosses your path and you think about them for the entire day. What if you think about them everyday for the past five years? Yeah. That's me.

I don't know if its weird to think about the same person that you have never dated for years, but that's me. I'm the guy who gawks at the cute, shy girl from across the room thinking: "Does she think I'm cute? I think I catch her looking at me?" Then again I did sit right below the clock in the classroom. And that is where it all started.

It always starts in college. The best stories start in college, I think its because everyone is of age, but not old enough to drink thus shenanigans ensue. Fuck shenanigans, I was in love. Her name was Liz. For all I know her name could have been Lizbeth, Elizabeth, Lizzy, or just Liz. It didn't matter because in our French class she was known as Liz.

I remember being pumped to have a French class again because after the chaos of high school, I had the most fun in my French class. I didn't actually learn any French but to me it was the one class where I could I actually interact better with other people. As I went into French 101 I sat in a respectable mid section seat, not too far in back but not in front. No one sat next me, which to this day I still wonder why. I probably didn't put deorderant on or something. As I was just sitting there, she came in. Liz was so shy, she was practically looking into her breasts, not that I was noticing. She hurried across the room, semi-across to where I was sitting. What did I do? Gave her the awkward, semi-smile, head nod. You know the gesture to someone you don't know but could get along with. She did nothing back, classic.

I always hated being in class for the first time, there is literally nothing to do besides talk to the person next you. Well fuck me because no one wanted to sit next me, no wonder Liz didn't do any sort of preliminary gesture to me! So I doodled on some paper, you know monsters and shit. The teacher came in, and said something like: "French, french, french, french french, bonjour, french." Yeah, brutal.

The next thing I know people were moving around! Fuck! What did he say?! I gathered my stuff, stood up and kinda just backed up, someone then moved into my spot. After a few minutes I was the only standing. I was a little embarrassed but I tried not to show it, so I just looked at my schedule to make sure I was in the right room. Bad move. The Prof noticed and said something in French, so I did the obvious thing anyone would do in my situation, I said:

"Ca va?"

The class erupted in laughter. I grinned. I didn't think it was that funny, but what was I supposed to do? The teacher asked me in English, thankfully, "We are sitting in alphabetical order." Of course I said, "Ooooooooooooooooh." I still didn't do anything because I didn't know anyones name. This didn't seem that French to me nor very collegiate, but fuck it. I looked at my schedule because I was nervous and he approached me and pointed to non-other than Liz.

My heart was beating like crazy. I was so nervous I thought I was going to shit my pants. She may have not been the cutest girl in the class, but I was the best looking bloke either. I just went with it. I walked over to the back of the room because apparently her last name is close to W. I pulled the chair and it seemed she moved away from me. Heart broken. I was giving up hope, but I put my stuff on the table and sat down. I was crushed. Who wouldn't be crushed in this situation? I practically fell in love with this stranger. As I was killing myself in my head I looked over and saw the sign. She gave me a slight smile, blushed away and tucked her hair back. I smiled and thought, "I'm glad I signed up for French.'

The Incident

Midwestern Michigan University never had a worse teacher than Dr. Eugene Caffern. The history department was under the impression they hired a young, idealistic, promising historian out of Harvard 30 years ago. However, Dr. Caffern worked hard to keep his idealistic, joyful persona intact until he received tenure from the University 20 years ago. These last 20 years the school was "forced" to endure the alcoholism, racism, hints of sexual harassment and overall cruelness that is Dr. Caffern.

One of the few people who actually works under Dr. Caffern is a young History graduate, Gregg Hewert. The research opportunity to work with Dr. Caffern was too good to pass up and Gregg assumed he could last the summer working for the professor. One aspect to Dr. Caffern that kept his job was his uncanny history knowledge and influence. He was published in all of the prominent, scholarly journals. He was well respected in the history community as a brilliant academic, but no one wanted to work close to him, that was until the research position opened.

Gregg Hewert primarily focused on American Imperialism and even got his senior thesis published that discussed the relationship of Cuba and the United States with the beginnings of the Platt Amendment, which evolved into the occupation of Guantanamo Bay. Gregg's analysis proved he had the potential for an outstanding future as a young historian. His first task was to secure a solid internship, and the the best opportunity was to work under Dr. Caffern before he started his PhD program at Brown University in the fall.

For the past two months Gregg has been researching for Dr. Caffern's new book on American Foreign Policy primarily focusing on Middle East from the 1970's to the present. Gregg spends roughly ten hours a day reading and taking notes and doing some general writing. Gregg doesn't know how much or any the professor has been working. At the rate the book is coming along it seems Gregg has written more than half of it. An in depth analysis of Lebanon and U.S. relations for the past thirty years wasn't on Gregg's summer plans.

He hasn't had any fun with his friends, and hasn't been on a date in over a year. The stress of the job has been building and building for these past two months. July just started and Gregg decides he needs to talk to the professor about the progress of the book and discuss his compensation and whether or not he will be credited for the work he's been providing. Gregg always hated walking to the professor's office, it's on the fourth floor in the attic, which means in the summer its blistering hot.

Gregg knocked on the door and spoke, "Dr. Caffern, may I speak with you?"

"Ah yes, Jeffery. Um, come in if you must." Clearly he's been drinking because Jeffery was the janitor who cleans the building.

"I've been thinking about the work I've been doing for you. These last two months have been long and tiresome and I was wondering what you're planning on paying me when we're done and whether or not I would get some credit for  helping you?" Gregg was nervous, lucky for him his nervous sweat could be confused with heat sweat.

Dr. Caffern pour himself a hefty serving of scotch, took a large gulp and stared at Gregg. What seemed to be an agonizing, awkward long pause he said, "Why would I pay you for anything Jeffery? Aren't you the dirty little cunt who cleans my office? I have some know-it-all brat who is doing all the work for me on the book. I'm not paying that little shit anything and I plan on taking all the credit." He finished his scotch and sat in his chair. He didn't notice the stunned face on Gregg or his tightly clenched fists shaking next to his legs.

Gregg quietly spoke, "Haha, yes sir. It sounds like you have a good system, I'll come back later when you're gone and finish cleaning your office." Dr. Caffern merely grunted and shifted himself.

A week has passed and Gregg was sitting at his desk drinking his fourth instant coffee, eating leftover popcorn, a cold can of baked beans, and three hard boiled eggs. If any of Gregg's friends saw what his breakfast consisted of they would confuse him for someone else because normally Gregg counts his calories, eats organic, and doesn't touch anything that comes from an animal. This past week he has been changing his diet, eating the most garbage he can, and two days ago he popped some anti-diarrhea tablets. After the infuriating conversation with Dr. Caffern he was done with the professor's shit. The plan immediately clicked in Gregg's huge, revenge filled brain. It was shit. He was going to take the biggest, most disgusting shit imaginable on Dr. Caffern's beloved antique desk in approximately one hour.

Gregg wanted to get back on the professor, and at this point he couldn't go to the Dean because many have tried and all failed. He had to get personal. He wanted Dr. Caffern to feel what it's like to get shit on, Gregg did consider actually taking a shit on the professor, but decided to just do it on the desk. The plan was perfect, every morning around 11 a.m. Dr. Caffern walked to the café and ordered an Earl Grey tea with milk and sugar. This gave Gregg roughly twenty minutes to do his deed and escape unnoticed. Gregg's desk is located in the basement, and since today was his day off the professor wasn't expecting until tomorrow, which was quite convenient. Dr. Caffern has created many enemies over the years, so it would be hard to figure out who committed the crime.

Gregg had one more instant coffee to really liquify the shit, and also added a little ex lax, which according to the box should take affect in 15 minutes. The time is 10:51 and the professor should be leaving soon to get his morning tea. He decided to take the long way up and use the back staircase, no one ever uses it anyways. After the first floor he heard no one, a good sign. He got to the third floor and and he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. FUCK! Gregg, immediately opened the door to the floor and turned the corner but not quickly enough because Dr. Caffern saw him. He thought he might has passed him, but he opened the door turned to Gregg and said:

"Jeffery, when you get the chance, empty my fucking trash." Gregg could only nod, mainly because he thought he might shit his pants. Dr. Caffern then turned and walked down the stairs. Gregg whipped his sweaty brow and breathed away his shit holding exhaustion and walked upstairs. Should he feel bad that Dr. Caffern would assume this Jeffery guy was the culprit behind the disgusting mess that the professor will find in a half hour on his desk? Gregg didn't care at this point, besides he was more concerned about the leaking poop out of his butt.

He reached the attic level just in time because he had maybe 30 seconds until the junk food induced explosion would occur. He clenched his cheeks together as hard has he could and waddled to the office door, turned the handle and opened the door. He always thought the office was a disgrace to all academia because it was cluttered with torn paper, decade old news clipping, food wrappers and smelled horrible. The thought that Jeffery really sucked at his cleaning job was on Gregg's mind and he no longer cared if he was fired from his job. Gregg, still clenching really hard, carefully climbed on the desk, moved the computer and unzipped his pants. For a second Gregg almost stopped, but once he started to drop his pants it happened. Before he had time to pull his underwear down the poop exploded out of him, the nonstop flow of dark green and brown shit rushed out like a flash flood in a canyon ecosystem. He fumbled with his underwear and as he was pulling his boxers down he got shit all over his hands. Gregg then got in a comfy squat and just let nature flow out of him.  After days of not shitting Gregg was surprised that the whole situation only lasted around 15 minutes.

Once the last squirt came out Gregg took off his shit dripped boxers and tossed them in the full trash bin. He was buttoning up his pants when he heard footsteps. He fumbled with the button and as he reached for the door knob it opened. It was a younger man, probably college age or later, and he just looked past Gregg in horror. Gregg turned around and briefly looked at the horror, there was shit waterfalling off the front of the desk. Gregg could only make an apologetic face and as he was turning his head away from making anymore eye contact he noticed the name on the guy's shirt. He read Jeffery, and Gregg walked past him and ran down the hallway, down the stairs and out of the building. On his entire way back he didn't even think about Jeffery's repercussions, he was the one one running down the street with shit on his hands and dripping out of his pants, not Jeffery.

Gregg got a call from Dr. Caffern the next saying he didn't need to come in because the professor was too busy and couldn't make it to the office today. Gregg didn't want to know what happened to the Jeffery, he felt disgusted with himself. Gregg figured he should be in a better mood, he knew why Dr. Caffern didn't make it into the office, he knew the horror the professor embarked upon after his morning tea. Yet now he felt guilty about poor Jeffery. The only logical thing Gregg could do was drown his sorrow in a bottle of scotch, so he headed to the closest bar to his house. As he was sitting at the bar staring down to his near empty glass, the young man he recently saw for the first time yesterday sat next to him. Gregg will never forget what he said:

"It's cool, I've been pissing in his scotch all year."

"It's too cold for shorts"

Scarves should not be necessary in May. Luke was dreading the thought of walking to the bus stop wearing his winter pea coat and his favorite white and black striped scarf. Taking the bus alone was degrading enough for Luke, being fifteen years old in high school and showing up to school on the bus will not help his chances with Cheryl Petting. 

Cheryl is two years older then Luke, but since he was bumped ahead to 12th grade, he assumes being rather intelligent increases his chances to ever talking to her. However she's clearly "studying" with Kyle Houthe, the high school badass with rich parents, own car, and the likeability of James Franco from Freaks and Geeks. Luke never had a chance, and taking the bus doesn't affect whether or not he'll have the chance to talk to Cheryl.

On this particular day in May, Luke was forced to wear a scarf and his pea coat while he waited for the bus. It was unusual weather; however, living in Michigan he should know better. Fuck it, Luke thought, he's rolling the dice and only going to rock a hoodie and scarf. He opened the door to his house and immediately regretted his decision and jetted out the door anyway. 

While he was shivering on his way to the bus stop, he couldn't help but think of Cheryl. He thought she was perfect, the cutest face. She goes for the whole, "Look at me, I don't wear make-up yet I'm still hotter than you look." Luke loves that, he can't help. Hell, most of the guys at his school have inappropriate thoughts about her. Luke goes mad just thinking about her--the ridiculous chuckle she produces out of her perfect mouth showing her perfect teeth--she's pure fucking perfection. 

All of Luke's friends tell him that he needs to give up all hope on ever having any sort of short interaction with her. Luke wasn't a horrible looking kid. He was only a few weeks away from his 16th birthday, but most people assumed he was much older, which is due to his mature personality. He carries himself in a manner unlike most regular high schoolers. Luke reads books outside of school, hangs out at coffee shops, and is the President of the Elk River Rapids Young Democrats. His intellect is at the level of a college student, and resembles a young John Kennedy, but more like what a cousin of John Kennedy would look like. 

Luke had his own "little fan club." Girls that were mainly older then him. None of them mattered, he only wanted Cheryl Petting. Standing at the bus stop drinking his black, french-roasted coffee Luke went over his daily imaginary conversation with Cheryl. It always went something like this:

"Hi Cheryl! My name is Luke, we've had a few classes together but we never actually met."

"LUKE! Of course I know you! You sat right behind me in Biology last year. I wanted to talk to you so many times, but I was always so nervous."

"Well, you know, my parents usually go to bed early. You could, uh, if you want, um, come over tonight? I mean if your not, like, busy with Kyle or something..."

"Oh me and Kyle are just friends, he helps me study. And I would love to come over tonight. You can help me study for anatomy." *Wink*

This conversation has never taken place, and Luke was hoping, praying, and begging to any God(s) that it would someday. He also had the tendency to get lost in his fantastical delusion that he would get a little too eager and it would show. Today waiting for bus while he was going over different "scenarios" a girl was approaching the same bus stop. Luke was caught off guard because normally he was the only waiting for the bus at 7:15 a.m. This particular girl happened to be none other then the star of Luke's fantasy, Cheryl Petting.

Luke immediately became really red when she walked up and stood about two feet from him. Luckily for Luke, he was standing in front of Cheryl and she couldn't see what he was trying to hide from her. It took him a solid thirty seconds to calm down, and he turned his head to notice that she didn't look happy. He considered the idea that maybe she was embarrassed that she had to take the bus, but he grew the courage to speak to her for the first time.

Luke managed to mumble, "Fucked up weather, huh?"

"Hmm, did you say something."

"Oh, just that the average temperature this time of May is usually 65.8 degrees and today it's 35 degrees," replied Luke, and thought he sounded too smart including the exact average temperature.

"Yeah, it's pretty shitty," she said rather quietly. Luke still sensed that something was wrong and thought maybe he should say something funny.

"It totally is, but you know there will still be some douche that wears shorts today just because it's May. I mean no one thinks the guy that wears shorts is a badass, he's just an idiot." 

She smiled and said, "Yeah. You're right on that."

Luke was so elated that he made her smile that he didn't know the bus just pulled up and was caught off guard so fumbled to collect his bus fare. He got an empty seat and tried looking for Cheryl and noticed she was behind him looking out of the window, not pleased at all. Luke thought about moving back to her empty seat next to her. He didn't really have a non-weird way to go about it. He couldn't just end up sitting next to her since they have been on the bus for a few minutes now and was already on its way to the next stop. He thought about making a scene and yelling that there was shit on the seat and he needed to move, but he didn't want to implicate himself as having sat in shit. As he was going over different ways to approach this problem they arrived to school and he missed his opportunity.

Luke waited for Cheryl to get ahead of him so he could get of the bus behind her. He was hoping that he would get the chance to ask her out to coffee, or even talk about weather again. Luke was desperate and thought the short bus stop conversation went well. She got of the bus and as he was stepping off he noticed the douche wearing shorts. This was perfect! What better way to have another conversation with Cheryl than to make fun of the idiot wearing shorts. Just as he was about to tap on her shoulder and say something, she said:

"Kyle! Over here!" 

As she said this the kid wearing the shorts turned and wave to her. To Luke's disgust, it was Kyle. Fucking Kyle. Of all the people to wear shorts on a cold spring day, which is clearly jeans weather, Kyle would be the douche to do it. Luke noticed that they were talking and she pointed at his lack of pants and he just put his hands up motioning, "I don't know." Cheryl just laughed, and it wasn't laughter towards Kyle, it was genuine laughter. 

Luke couldn't understand. He thought they had one thing in common, hatred to shorts wearing douchebags in cold weather. Luke didn't even finish his coffee but tossed it away and walked toward school. His young heart being trampled upon by his high school crush flirting with James Franco look-a-like Kyle was too much for him to handle this day, and he made one of the worst decisions of his youthful life. He vowed to not watch a James Franco movie again because of Kyle Houthe and his fucking shorts.

"The Bathroom Conundrum"

Bob has been having a mediocre evening following his mediocre work day at his mediocre job. The only thing he can hope for anymore is mediocre sex from let's say a mediocre girl. Mediocre defines Bob's life. But tonight he's having a beer at his favorite watering hole, and by favorite it's the place where his friends always want to go. And of course Bob is fifteen minutes early, so instead of sitting at a table alone by himself he orders a beer at the bar.

He doesn't want to look too poor to the moderately cute bartender who has a comparable face to the likes of Marilyn Monroe with Steve Buscemi eyes. He could have mediocre sex with her, but he won't try, he'll order his lager and wait for his friends.

Bob doesn't like to wait. He's sitting at the bar, which at this point is relatively empty on an early Friday night, and to pass the time he's scrolling through apps on his iPhone. Sadly, the most exciting part of Bob's life is having an iPhone even though 6/10 people he knows has one, he still feels privileged and "hip."

The fifteen minutes has passed and Bob has been trying to kill by stealing awkward glances at the Buscemi eyed, Marilyn Monroe bartender while finished his lager. Bob is the kind of guy who normally won't drink excessively so he double thinks about ordering a second beer. He ponders the idea and comes to the conclusion that if he orders the beer he will at least be able to have an eleven second conversation with the bartender.

He signals her down with a classic finger raise: "If it's no trouble to you, could I have another lager, I mean beer?"

The Buscemi eyed waitressed replied annoyed: "Uh, yeah. You had...?"

"Oh, just the Riptide's Fancy Lancy Prancer Lager. It's pretty good. I recommend it if you haven't had it."

"Well, normally only gay dudes order it because of the name, but that will be 4 bucks."

"Oh, good thing I'm not gay" Bob said with a lame half-hearted laugh to not come off homophobic or too weird. She thought he was weird, but came back with his beer and didn't buy into Bob's sincere smile.

What was Bob to do? Ten more minutes passed and his friends still haven't showed up. Maybe Steve and Zac were stuck in traffic? Impossible. Bob knew they walked to the bar, only three blocks away. How pathetic was this, his only friends stand him up on a friday night.

Fuck this, Bob thought. He had it. He finished the rest of his beer, thought about getting the weird eyed bartender's attention to order another but he better use the bathroom first. This particular bar was not kind to men. It had no stall toilet, so you couldn't poop, only stand in the trough style toilet and pee. The idea of whipping your dick out and pissing into a long tub was not something Bob wanted to do.

He rushed to the bathroom, the whole time thinking, praying, hoping, etc that no one would be in there. Alas! He was in great luck! He walked to the end of the trough, approached it, look at disgust and unzipped. Just as he thought things were about to change for him, the door opened. Bob couldn't back out now. His only hope was the guy was kind enough to no come too close. The overweight man untucked his stained white tee, whipped his nose with his finger and gracefully approached a little closer to Bob.

There was no way Bob was going to be able to piss at this point. The overweight man was only 1.5 feet away when the trough was 6 feet long. Bob couldn't understand why he was so close. Does he want to look at Bob's penis? Does he just not care about where he pisses like Bob does? Who knows?! Bob needs his space to pee and this man was making it any easier. While Bob just stood in place pretending to pee, the man was clearly having no problem. Bob could hear the stream of pee hit the porcelain. There was nothing else for Bob to do but to pretend he pissed, zip up, and go wash his hands.

Coincidentally the bigger man finished peeing just as Bob "finished." Bob gave the man a polite head nod not expecting anything in reply but the man said:

"Good evening little guy" in a really high pitched voice that didn't match what he looked like.

"Ah, yes it is a nice evening" Bob said rather surprised.

"I couldn't help but notice you were drinking Riptide's Fancy Lancey Prancer Lager. It is one of my ABSOLUTE favs!"

Immediately Bob rememebered what Steve Buscemi eyed waitress said Well, normally only gay dudes order it because of the name, but that will be 4 bucks." How could this be? Was this man really hitting on Bob in the bathroom? Sure, Bob dresses nice, he likes to read GQ and keeps good care of his body, but he doesn't come off as gay.

Bob couldn't only think of one thing to say: "Oh sorry, I'm not gay. I hope I didn't give you the wrong impression. I didn't really know gay guys drank that beer."

The man was disgusted by the way Bob said that. He was trying to hit on Bob, just making small talk in the bathroom. Yet he said: "Oh sure, just because you dress nice doesn't mean I want to suck you off. Fucking ignorance."

"Uh, um, yeah..." and Bob just walked out the bathroom too quickly and almost walked into the one bartender he wished to avoid, "Buscemi eyes." He quickly mumbled a sorry and saw that his friends made it. They laughed Bob telling him he almost ran over that bartender and proceeded to verbally make fun of the waitress for being so peculiar. Bob could never tell them that he thought she was somehow attractive to him. And before he could forget the bathroom experience, Zac said:

"How was the bathroom? You were in there for awhile? You didn't go gay on us and suck of some dude?"

"Oh, ha. Ha. Yeah, right..."

Bob really hates his friends almost as much as he hates using public bathrooms.