Post by redemption on Nov 8, 2007 16:14:19 GMT -5
One Week
Spud yawned, flopping back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, humming softly to himself. Outside the day was cloudy, promising rain later on—even the weather report had said so.
All the more reason for Spud to stay inside today.
His cell phone rang, and without thinking Spud grabbed it. “Yo.”
It’s been one week since you looked at me
socked your head to the side and said, “I’m angry”
Five days since you laughed at me saying
“Get that together come back and see me”
Three days since the living room
I realized it’s all my fault but couldn’t tell you
Yesterday you’d forgiven me
But it’ll be two days till I say I’m sorry
“Hey, man,” Jake returned his greeting. “You visit her yet?”
“Jake, it looks like it’s gonna rain. Bro, I don’t wanna get soaked.”
Spud’s voice had grown unusually harsh, and he cleared his throat; there was a moment of silence on the other end as Jake processed this. Finally, the boy sighed. “Spud, come on,” he murmured. “You haven’t visited her at all.”
“Jake, just leave it be.”
Jake sighed again, giving up. “Fine.”
Hold it now and watch the hoodwink
As I make you stop, think
You’ll think you’re looking at Aquaman
I summon fish to the dish, although I like Charlet Swiss
I like the sushi
‘Cause it’s never touched the frying pan
Hot like a wasabe when I bust rhymes
Big like LeAnn Rimes
Because I’m all about value
Bert Kaempfert’s got the mad hits
You try to match wits, you try to hold me but I bust through
Gonna make a break and take a fake
I’d like a stinkin achin shake
I like vanilla, it’s the finest of the flavors
Gotta see the show, cause then you’ll know
The vertigo is gonna grow
Cause it’s so dangerous
You have to sign a waiver
Spud clicked off his phone and rested it on his desk, but no longer could he just lay back and rest; quietly cursing Jake under his breath, the tall boy swung his legs off the bed, stood, stretched, and walked to his closet, opening it.
Without stopping to think about what he was going to do, he grabbed his jacket in case it started raining and pulled it on, briefly pulling off his beanie to smooth his normally wild hair.
He sighed, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and smiled crookedly.
“She’d better like this.”
How can I help it if I think you’re funny when you’re mad
Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad
I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
Well, you soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of taking off my shirt
Not only was it cloudy outside, but it was also cold; it nipped at the exposed skin on Spud’s body as he slammed the door to his house shut and locked it, just in case he chickened out and tried to get back in. He blew out a long breath for a moment.
He was going to visit Trixie, after nearly a week of avoiding it. But what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t visit her once and awhile?
Smirking bitterly, he turned and bounded down the steps, starting down the sidewalk.
It’s been one week since you looked at me
Threw your arms in the air
And said, “You’re crazy”
Five days since you tackled me
I’ve still got the rug burns on both my knees
It’s been three days since the afternoon
You realized it’s not my fault
Not a moment too soon
Yesterday you’d forgiven me
And now I sit back and wait till you say you’re sorry
A harsh wind blew through the street, causing Spud to tighten his grip on his coat, narrowing his eyes as the cold made them tear. Some part of him wanted, desperately, to turn around and run back home.
God, he didn’t want to visit her. But it had been one week.
He owed her. Trixie was still his friend, after all.
And of all of them, he’d been the stubborn one.
Chickity China the Chinese chicken
You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin’
Watchin’ X-files with no lights on
We’re dans la maison
I hope the Smoking Man’s in this one
Like Harrison Ford I’m getting frantic
Like Sting I’ tantric
Like Snickers guaranteed to satisfy
Like Kurasawa I make made films
Okay, I don’t make films
But if I did they’d have a samurai
Gonna get a set a’ better clubs
Gonna find the kind with tiny nubs
Just so my irons aren’t always flying off the back swing
Gotta get in tune with Sailor Moon
Cause the cartoon has got the boom anime babes
That makes me think the wrong thing
So lost in thought was he that he almost walked right past the place he meant to visit; backtracking, Spud rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he grabbed the lock on the gate, unlocking it and stepping inside.
The grass crunched beneath his feet, slightly frozen from the cold night air of last night; Spud’s breath was like a long stream of smoke in the still air, and he chuckled a little as he walked down the path, studying the rows of gray stones for the one he was looking for.
It showed that he hadn’t visited recently. He couldn’t even find the one he was looking for.
The thought almost made him laugh again, but it never even left his lips.
How can I help it if I think you’re funny when you’re mad
Tryin’ hard not to laugh though I feel bad
I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
Well you soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of losing my shirt
Rubbing his hands to keep them warm, Spud finally found exactly what he was looking for; despite everything, his lips curved in a slight smile as he brought his hands to his mouth, blowing on them to warm them.
The stone was slightly off the path, so he stepped onto the grass again, weaving around the other stones to reach hers. Standing before it, he leaned forward and gently brushed the light snow and forming ice off the letters.
Trixie Carter
Best friend, loving daughter
Life’s a bitch when you’re best friend’s a dragon
The last bit always made Spud smile; she’d insisted on having it carved into her stone before she died, and it was protected by magic so only those who knew magic could see it.
It’s been one week since you looked at me
Dropped your arms to your sides
And said, “I’m sorry”
Five days since I laughed at you and said
“You just did just what I thought you were gonna do”
Three days since the living room
We realized we’re both to blame
But what could we do?
Yesterday you just smiled at me
Cause it’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
Only when the last of the snow and ice was gone did he kneel, a sad smile still curving his lips. Clearing his throat again, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and patted the stone.
“Hey, Trix,” he murmured. “Sorry I haven’t visited ya recently.”
It’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
It’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
Birchmount Stadium, home of the Robbie
The End
...
Dedicated to my childhood buddy Jason, who died of drug overdose. He was twenty-five years old and had a three-year-old son, who now tells people how his daddy is a special angel in heaven.
I'll miss you, buddy. I don't care what people say. I might have been young when we used to play together, but I'll always remember you.
Spud yawned, flopping back on his bed and staring up at the ceiling, humming softly to himself. Outside the day was cloudy, promising rain later on—even the weather report had said so.
All the more reason for Spud to stay inside today.
His cell phone rang, and without thinking Spud grabbed it. “Yo.”
It’s been one week since you looked at me
socked your head to the side and said, “I’m angry”
Five days since you laughed at me saying
“Get that together come back and see me”
Three days since the living room
I realized it’s all my fault but couldn’t tell you
Yesterday you’d forgiven me
But it’ll be two days till I say I’m sorry
“Hey, man,” Jake returned his greeting. “You visit her yet?”
“Jake, it looks like it’s gonna rain. Bro, I don’t wanna get soaked.”
Spud’s voice had grown unusually harsh, and he cleared his throat; there was a moment of silence on the other end as Jake processed this. Finally, the boy sighed. “Spud, come on,” he murmured. “You haven’t visited her at all.”
“Jake, just leave it be.”
Jake sighed again, giving up. “Fine.”
Hold it now and watch the hoodwink
As I make you stop, think
You’ll think you’re looking at Aquaman
I summon fish to the dish, although I like Charlet Swiss
I like the sushi
‘Cause it’s never touched the frying pan
Hot like a wasabe when I bust rhymes
Big like LeAnn Rimes
Because I’m all about value
Bert Kaempfert’s got the mad hits
You try to match wits, you try to hold me but I bust through
Gonna make a break and take a fake
I’d like a stinkin achin shake
I like vanilla, it’s the finest of the flavors
Gotta see the show, cause then you’ll know
The vertigo is gonna grow
Cause it’s so dangerous
You have to sign a waiver
Spud clicked off his phone and rested it on his desk, but no longer could he just lay back and rest; quietly cursing Jake under his breath, the tall boy swung his legs off the bed, stood, stretched, and walked to his closet, opening it.
Without stopping to think about what he was going to do, he grabbed his jacket in case it started raining and pulled it on, briefly pulling off his beanie to smooth his normally wild hair.
He sighed, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and smiled crookedly.
“She’d better like this.”
How can I help it if I think you’re funny when you’re mad
Trying hard not to smile though I feel bad
I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
Well, you soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of taking off my shirt
Not only was it cloudy outside, but it was also cold; it nipped at the exposed skin on Spud’s body as he slammed the door to his house shut and locked it, just in case he chickened out and tried to get back in. He blew out a long breath for a moment.
He was going to visit Trixie, after nearly a week of avoiding it. But what kind of friend would he be if he didn’t visit her once and awhile?
Smirking bitterly, he turned and bounded down the steps, starting down the sidewalk.
It’s been one week since you looked at me
Threw your arms in the air
And said, “You’re crazy”
Five days since you tackled me
I’ve still got the rug burns on both my knees
It’s been three days since the afternoon
You realized it’s not my fault
Not a moment too soon
Yesterday you’d forgiven me
And now I sit back and wait till you say you’re sorry
A harsh wind blew through the street, causing Spud to tighten his grip on his coat, narrowing his eyes as the cold made them tear. Some part of him wanted, desperately, to turn around and run back home.
God, he didn’t want to visit her. But it had been one week.
He owed her. Trixie was still his friend, after all.
And of all of them, he’d been the stubborn one.
Chickity China the Chinese chicken
You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin’
Watchin’ X-files with no lights on
We’re dans la maison
I hope the Smoking Man’s in this one
Like Harrison Ford I’m getting frantic
Like Sting I’ tantric
Like Snickers guaranteed to satisfy
Like Kurasawa I make made films
Okay, I don’t make films
But if I did they’d have a samurai
Gonna get a set a’ better clubs
Gonna find the kind with tiny nubs
Just so my irons aren’t always flying off the back swing
Gotta get in tune with Sailor Moon
Cause the cartoon has got the boom anime babes
That makes me think the wrong thing
So lost in thought was he that he almost walked right past the place he meant to visit; backtracking, Spud rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he grabbed the lock on the gate, unlocking it and stepping inside.
The grass crunched beneath his feet, slightly frozen from the cold night air of last night; Spud’s breath was like a long stream of smoke in the still air, and he chuckled a little as he walked down the path, studying the rows of gray stones for the one he was looking for.
It showed that he hadn’t visited recently. He couldn’t even find the one he was looking for.
The thought almost made him laugh again, but it never even left his lips.
How can I help it if I think you’re funny when you’re mad
Tryin’ hard not to laugh though I feel bad
I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
Well you soon will
I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve
I have a history of losing my shirt
Rubbing his hands to keep them warm, Spud finally found exactly what he was looking for; despite everything, his lips curved in a slight smile as he brought his hands to his mouth, blowing on them to warm them.
The stone was slightly off the path, so he stepped onto the grass again, weaving around the other stones to reach hers. Standing before it, he leaned forward and gently brushed the light snow and forming ice off the letters.
Trixie Carter
Best friend, loving daughter
Life’s a bitch when you’re best friend’s a dragon
The last bit always made Spud smile; she’d insisted on having it carved into her stone before she died, and it was protected by magic so only those who knew magic could see it.
It’s been one week since you looked at me
Dropped your arms to your sides
And said, “I’m sorry”
Five days since I laughed at you and said
“You just did just what I thought you were gonna do”
Three days since the living room
We realized we’re both to blame
But what could we do?
Yesterday you just smiled at me
Cause it’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
Only when the last of the snow and ice was gone did he kneel, a sad smile still curving his lips. Clearing his throat again, he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and patted the stone.
“Hey, Trix,” he murmured. “Sorry I haven’t visited ya recently.”
It’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
It’ll still be two days till we say we’re sorry
Birchmount Stadium, home of the Robbie
The End
...
Dedicated to my childhood buddy Jason, who died of drug overdose. He was twenty-five years old and had a three-year-old son, who now tells people how his daddy is a special angel in heaven.
I'll miss you, buddy. I don't care what people say. I might have been young when we used to play together, but I'll always remember you.