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Started writing: 2:55PM while listening to Sigur Rós – Starálfur

He said he was outside the airport, in the precise spot where I told him to wait. I drove around the arrivals loop with my bleary eyes peeled. No CAT, not in gate G4, not anywhere.

I called him again to figure out where he was, but his cell went straight to voicemail. I said some 4-letter word beneath my breath and then called him an asshole really loud for my empty car to hear.

45 minutes later I got a call from a payphone. CAT.

He said some bullshit like,

“I don’t have a lot of time, so listen. The sign right above where I’m standing says G – as in gamma – 4. G4. I’m wearing a black trench coat.”

I said,

“I was just there, asshole.”

He said,

“Look harder.”

I said,

“Cheap-ass,”

because the line went dead.

I drove around the arrivals loop for like the 80th time and back to G4. I looked at the sign and blinked my eyes to clear them of any distortion. I squinted.

Yes, this was G4. This was definitely gamma 4.

I looked around for a guy in a black trench coat,

but all I saw were these 3 girls fingering their iPhones. 1 had a lip ring. She was the tallest of the gaggle.

I looked hard at her sad facial expression and thought about CAT. He wasn’t anywhere ever. He was never anywhere. I said a different 4-letter word and called him asshole!

At least,

this made me laugh.

At least,

this briefly made me forget about hamstering around the loop.

I smiled. Then the smile sunk into my face and I turned off the car and got out.

I had no other option. If CAT wasn’t where he said he was, then he must be somewhere else similar but not the same.

Logic dictated my reasoning.

The tall girl played with her lip ring and looked at me with a subtle suggestion hanging droopy on the corners of her mouth.

Her lip ring looked like a colorful beach ball. It looked like she was bouncing this beach ball with her heels, while supine on the sand, sunglasses over her eyes, bikini top, bikini bottom, tanning her brown skin,

niiiiiiiiceeeee.

I found myself thinking about her orange zest heels. Then I found myself asking if she could do me a favor.

I said,

“Hello. I need to look for a friend, but I don’t feel like paying for parking.”

She held that subtle suggestion on the corners of her mouth and bounced her beach ball into the stratosphere.

I looked up at the concrete ceiling of the airport arrivals area and got my lips wet because I could tell they were flaky.

I said,

“Obviously you don’t know me, but I need a favor from you. I’d ask the other girls, but you seem more real than them.”

She scanned the other girls, starting at their shoes.

She said,

“What do you need?”

“Could you sit in my car while I go searching for this asshole friend?”

I was going to apologize for my dirty mouth, but we live in the 25th century. That’s right,

this the future baby, and saying 4-letter words and calling friends asshole is as common as astronaut peanut butter, which kicks the shit out of astronaut ice cream.

She said,

“You want me to sit in your car?”

She looked at my red Honda Civic with THE OPEN END painted on the rear window.

She said,

“Are you going to leave me keys.”

I said,

“No. But you can roll down the window if you get hot.”

She laughed. There was something naughty about the sound of her laugh, like she had 1-too-many bumps with b-rate hip hop acts.

She said,

“Sure.”

I said,

“Cool. Let me waste some chivalry on you.”

I opened the driver door and waited for her left ankle to get inside. She put her hands on the steering wheel and smiled. She put both feet on the clutch.

For some reason I heard a beautiful song in my head break down into something so uplifting I almost choked on my soul.

I gave her a kiss on the cheek because I could. She stared at me like she had never been kissed on the cheek by a stranger. She glued her face to her iPhone and read an incoming text message:

I’M ALMOST THERE, MI DIOSA.

I said,

“Oooooh, someone thinks your a goddess.”

She said,

“Shut up.”

And she bounced her beach ball. I felt like asking if she was trying to seduce me.

Are you trying to seduce me, Mrs. Robinson?

She said,

“You better hurry.”

I shut the door and started running fast, from G4 to A1 – gamma to alpha – and then from A1 to G4.

No CAT.

I said a different 4-letter word and ran inside the airport. The sudden rush of cold air almost gave me a heart attack.

I ran upstairs because logic dictated my reasoning.

Sure enough, right above G4, but in the DEPARTURES area, a man in a black trench coat stood. I tapped CAT on the shoulder.

I said,

“This is departures, asshole! You’re an arrival.”

CAT said,

“This airport confuses me.”

We took the escalator down to the arrivals area. We walked to the real G4 and found my red Honda Civic,

empty.

I opened the driver door and reconnoitered the inside. Part of me, the libidinous male part, wanted to find some rune that would lead me to the Goddess’s bed.

Maybe directions to her hotel room.

Or a new number programmed in my cell.

Or a slice of her hair on the headrest.

Or the smack of her lips against my rear-view mirror.

Or her lacy fuchsia panties in my glove compartment.

CAT said,

“What’s the delay? Open the trunk.”

I whispered a different 4-letter word.

I said,

“Asshole.”

I love the future.

Then I got down by the clutch and sniffed at the pedal. There it was, orange zest.

That was all I needed to make me smile,

proof of her existence inside my car.

Then my smile sunk into my face.

On the way home, CAT asked if we could detour to the grocery store. He needed to get dinner. He was ravenous after a long day of flying.

This was what he ate:

Rocky road ice cream, Astronaut peanut butter, 1 banana

Stopped writing: 3:57PM while listening to Sage Francis – The Best Of Times

::Keep it locked on TOE::

Tags: ::CREATIVE WRITING::, Short Stories, sigur rós, staraflur, tape show

by ML Kennedy

Click below to catch up if you’ve just joined.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, & Chapter 11

If you’ve been here all along…

Read Chapter 12 of The Mosquito Song.

Tags: ::CREATIVE WRITING::, barack obama, chicago, fiction, hyde park, Short Stories, snuggies, sonny chiba movies, tchotchke, vampire myth, vampire story, walgreens

“My ex-wife asked me to bring her some weed. I saved until I could get her the good stuff. I paid a lot for it, which was hard for me because of gas, and I had to take time off work to make the trip to Ohio.”

You’re leaning against the balcony railing, three stories high over the swimming pool. Last night it stormed. Lightning shorted the floodlight outside your window. You were grateful for the cut. It made your room darker.

“Going through North Carolina everyone was driving 75, 80 up this one hill, and at the top of the hill the speed limit changed to 55. Everyone let off the gas, but gravity kept them moving, you know, and at the bottom of the hill there were like 15 cops just waiting to pull you over. Every other car got stopped.”

You fix the straw hat so that it sits slanted down from the crown of your head. The sun peeps from behind a hole in the cloud cover and shines your chest. You look at the tangle of hairs. Rune shaped.

“They saw my Florida plates and pulled me over. I got out of the car and they checked me for hidden knives. Then they told me if I was honest with them they’d let me off easy, but I had to talk if there were any drugs in the car.”

You watch a girl open the gate to the swimming pool. She’s candy-wrapped in a lavender towel. She slips off her thong sandals and walks down white steps and wades towards the diving board.

“So, I told them there was some weed in a sock on the bottom of my duffel bag in the trunk. I told them I was taking it to my ex-wife in Ohio. They understood. The cops put me in handcuffs and brought out their sniffing dogs. They started barking at my bag. The cops asked if I had any other drugs in the car, any cocaine. I told them no. They wrote me a ticket for speeding down the hill and interstate transportation and let me go. It was like a couple hundred bucks, but I could pay it by mail when I got back to Miami. I didn’t have to go to court or anything.”

You sip on a glass of lukewarm water and marvel at how the girl grabs onto the diving board and pulls half her body out of the water. You see the pipes in her arms contracting.

“Then there was the time when we were living in Miami, and we got a call saying that my little brother was in the hospital in Kissimmee. He had a brain aneurysm.”

You don’t hear the gate open, but you do see a gray brindled pit bull skyrocket into the swimming pool with a galactic splash. What’s happening?

“My mom asked which car was the fastest. We got on the highway and I got clocked doing 102. The cop asked me what’s the deal, you were going 102? And I told him that my little brother was in bad shape. I told him about getting my mom to the hospital. And he understood. But he had to scribble out a ticket. He said if you keep on driving that fast you might never get to the hospital.”

You see her arms shaking mid-pull-up when the pit bull reaches her side of the swimming pool. It could be hers. You look around for an owner with a leash, but the grounds are desolate.

“After he finished scribbling out his ticket, he told us to follow him five exits down the highway. He started pushing a 100 and we followed right behind him to the exit. It was a good thing because I didn’t know the way to the hospital. If you just explain what you’re doing, they’ll understand. They’re human, too. But my little brother died before we got there. The hospital only called so we could try to see him one last time.“

The pit bull paws the girl. You think about how much more geometrical the painting would be if blood were less dense than water. Then you nod your head, and the man standing next to you on the balcony sips on his third espresso.

::photo by bridget::

Tags: ::CREATIVE WRITING::, american pit bull terrier, cocaine, cop car, marijuana, miami, Short Stories

by ML Kennedy

Click below to catch up if you’ve just joined.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 & Chapter 10

If you’ve been here all along…

Read Chapter 11 of The Mosquito Song.

Tags: ::CREATIVE WRITING::, aswang, chicago, fiction, hyde park, mosquito song, roomba, Short Stories, supernatural taxonomy, university of chicago, vampire myth, vampire story

I’m sitting in front of the laptop screen when Sammy stands on the threshold and asks if I want to take a ride. I look at an email I’m in the middle of writing and realize that I really don’t have anything better to do.

That’s the truth.

I put on my red-hooded sweatshirt and follow Sammy out the garage door and into his fuel-efficient Toyota Prius. Ten gallons of regular unleaded gets Sammy a little over 480 miles, city driving.

That’s something to be happy about, I think. I think, 48 miles per gallon, 48 miles for $2.71, hey, that’s a lot more reasonable than driving a big ol’ Hummer around. The road will be a better place without those monolithic Behemoths crowding up the lanes. After all, I think, they were strictly a military vehicle used to launch rockets off, I don’t know who had the idea of making the Hummer civilian, but it wasn’t a good idea, like a fish out of water, and the market is just now realizing this.

Screws and hummers over the fold.

Tags: ::CREATIVE WRITING::, ::SPORTS::, adultery, blue pitbull, golf, hummer, infidelity, kobe, prius, Short Stories, story about infidelity, tiger woods