#FlashMobWrites Week 1×27 : Here

I kept hearing that damned song in my head. “Momma told me not to come!” That thing kept echoing round inside my skull, which didn’t make what I was doing any easier. My rational, logical side said, “Momma didn’t ever say such a thing.” Didn’t help at all. That song kept playing over and over.

‘Course, it could be the silly thing was stuck in my head ‘cause I was thinking, “I shouldn’t be here,” and “I’m fucking miserable.”

I felt like some mobster in a gray pinstriped suit, with a matching gray hat, and a bulge under his left arm was next to me, saying, “You got no business here, kid. Leave. While you still can.”

It didn’t really matter what was going on in my screwed up head. I was there. And God Damn-it, I wasn’t going to be the first person to say, “I gotta go.” I’d have walked barefoot on fresh lava before I did that.

Once, I’d have found my way to a corner and hid. Or found a clear path along a wall, and paced back and forth like one of those cartoon characters that wears a hole in the ground. But I’d learned I had to mix in to learn new things, so I found a table with people at it, and sat down.

Which was terrifying. I had to keep my hands on the table top to keep them from shaking. I could have moved them, but they’d have have shook like the tines on fucking tuning forks. I could almost hear them making tuning fork sounds. “Tiiiiiiiiiing!” and “Taaaaaaaaang!” So, I kept my hands on the table and told myself, “Try not to push your hands through the fucking table top.”

I toughed it out, and watched people talk. Watched them drink beer. You know, that shit that tastes like the water left in the sink after you wash the dishes? And they were drowning themselves in it, like it was Diet Coke or something. They kept offering me drinks, “You’re supposed to relax, and have fun!”

“But beer tastes awful to me.”

I’d learned to observe normal people. How they behave. How they react to each other. When they laugh, when they get angry. I learned enough to kinda fit in. I had to sit there to learn more, and get better at blending in.

It sucked to sit there, watching, and at the same time laughing, or smiling, when appropriate. It’s about the hardest thing I do. I knew it would take hours to wind down when I got home. I’d try to explain how it felt, but you either understand, or you don’t. And I fucking hope you don’t. Let’s just say it sucks donkey balls and leave it at that.

I hoped I’d survive the stress long enough to get out of there. But until someone else left, I was stuck listening to Three Dog Night belting out, “Momma told me not to come.”

497 Words
@LurchMunster


This is my entry into #FlashMobWrites 1×27, hosted by Ruth Long and Cara Michaels. Please, go read all the stories in for #FlashMobWrites 1×27. You might find something you like. But if you don’t read them, how will you ever know?

Dreams : A Safe Place

Seems some people believe
I’m able to capture dreams.
Put them on paper.
Make them real.

Really.
Who can do that?
Capture something that isn’t really there.
Bring it to life.

All I can really do
Is share a few words
Now and then.
A few words.
Nothing more.

Take my hand,
If you will,
And walk with me.
See.
I’ve put a blanket on the ground.
In the back yard.

It’s just a blanket.
It’s not magic.
It’s not a gift from a genie.
I bought it at a Wal-Mart
Several years ago.
It’s a bit worn.
It shows its age.

So, I use it in the back yard now.
Let me show you how.
See, I start
By taking off my shoes.
Yeah. I know.
It’s freaking strange.
Every since I stepped on those nails,
When I was a kid
Like 40 something years ago,
I don’t go barefoot outside.

But, see.
There’s this blanket.
I know what’s under it.
I checked.
I know the blanket
Can’t hurt my feet.

And then, I take a step on the blank.
And sit down.
And take off my socks.
And that’s where things get fun.
‘Cause I wiggle my toes.

Why don’t you take off your shoes.
And your socks.
And sit on the blanket with me.
And wiggle your toes.

Silly thing, I know.
Sitting on a blanket in the back yard.
Barefoot.
Wiggling our toes.
But, damn.
It sure feels good, don’t it?
To have nothing on your feet.

My toes are free!
Watch!
I’m gonna wiggle them some more!
Like this.
Oh, I could wiggle them all day.
Well.
At least until they got tired.

I have to let you know.
It’s been a while.
I mean.
Since I took the time
To sit on a blanket.
On the ground.
In my backyard.

I’ve thought about it for some time.
But I’ve never made the time.
Well.
Maybe made is the wrong word.
Maybe it’s I never took the time.
Let’s face it.
Sitting on a blanket in the backyard
Ain’t exactly a grown up thing to do.

You know what else I do on my blanket?
I stretch out.
I lie down.
And I watch the clouds.

I’ve always loved
The sky so blue.
That crystal blue it sometimes looks to me.
With white cotton candy clouds.
All kinds of them.

If you want to know a secret,
I’ll tell you.
Sometimes I look at the clouds
In the crystal sky.
And I giggle.
Because I think,
“It’s like God’s painting.
In 3D.
Again.”

It makes me sad sometimes.
When I think about it.
About how many people never look.
Never see.
The cotton candy clouds,
In the crystal blue sky.

If it’s alright with you,
I think I’ll just lie here a while.
And watch the sky.
And the clouds.
And yeah.
To be honest.
I wouldn’t mind
If you stretched out with me.
And you watched the sky too.

Just so you know.
As far as I’m concerned.
This is a safe place for me.
And if you like.
I’ll make it a safe place for you too.

On this blanket.
In my backyard.
Beneath the sky so blue.

I don’t know at all
Why people seem to think
I can capture dreams.
Things that don’t exist.
Things that aren’t real.
And put them down on paper.
And bring them to life.

But know this.
You are safe here.
On this blanket.
Beneath the sky so blue.