Standing Like Statues

This is a fictional short story I wrote today, and as I'm posting this on my blog also, I've included the videos at the bottom, so you can listen to them while you read, or not, up to you. This is something books are not capable of. Sup technology. I've barely edited this, this is probably a 3rd draft, but If I post it on here, it will motivate me to finish it. Oh, and if you don't sympathize with the protagonist, one of three things is true:
You have failed as a reader.
I have failed as a writer.
You are a sociopath.

Oh and Anna, Tell me what you think please :3

Standing Like Statues
By Alex McCuiston



That hummus was the best I ever had. The smoke from the hookah was so thick and delicious, like a cheesecake in my blackened lungs. The wine was good too, and so was the company. Eric and I had been fighting on and off for the last 6 months, but he had finally agreed to come out and have fun. He had confessed his love for me, but I was straight, and no matter how much I wanted to be with him, there were some things I just couldn’t change. We smoked and drank until the room was spinning and it shook the restaurant empty.

We paid for our checks, and tipped them well, poor service industry bastards, living on tips. How can you live on kindness when everyone is so fucking stingy; especially those rich pricks with obese wallets with money that’s just itching for a new home. We drove back in less than 5 minutes. I like to drive fast. I get a rush when I do. Everything in the world sucks so much, except for those few precious seconds where you realize you’re alive, and you want it to last forever.

All four of us rushed up the stairs like a stampede; drunk on the poison and shaking with excitement. We ran down the hallway and stumbled into the apartment Penelope’s and , eagerly greeted by the adorable meows of my neighbor’s kittens. We turned on the PS3 and played this game. It’s called Asura’s Wrath. We read the designer notes on Wikipedia, to find out that they had intended for the game to be an outlet for anger; a vent for the everyday persons frustrations so we don’t get pissed off and drown someone in their own blood.
Eric was playing with the kittens. He loves cats, and who doesn’t. Especially ones this young. The tinier one was squirming in his hands like a worm about to be hooked. It scratched him and ran away.

My roommate left.

“See you later, Eric.” I said, softly.

No answer. Door slam.

I needed cigarettes. I told them.

“Ooo!! Can I come? I want a milkshake! “ Penelope squealed.

I couldn’t stop laughing. Her excitement was airborne, like it was in her blood and her pheromones were passengers on route to my brain. We drove to the gas station, Penelope’s husband, Roger, said it was too cold outside to come with.

Kinda Outta Luck by Lana Del Rey was playing, it was Penelope’s CD. My car roared the whole 30 second drive to the gas station. I loved living in the city. It’s awesome having everything you need right next to you. I took out my make-shift drumsticks which today, were straws; and Penelope and I jammed the fuck out of that song.

After the song was done, we got out of the car and went into the gas station. I didn’t recognize the attendant, so I pulled out my wallet while Penelope skipped around the store, frantically eyeing every item; searching desperately for her milkshake.

“Hey how’s it going man.” I said, to the attendant. “Reggie,” on his nametag. He was black, and had bandaids on his neck, and a black hoodie “Pretty good. Thanks for asking.” I was thankful, people are fucking stupid. I’ll take politeness, and anything else I can get.
“Good deal man, can I please have a pack of American Spirit Blacks?” I said. He looked for a good 20 seconds, I knew they didn’t have them. But I guess I was just really hopeful that maybe this time, tonight, they might just have them. They didn’t.

“Sorry man, this is the darkest one we have.” He said. He showed me the menthols, I fucking hate menthols. I started smoking when I was 18 on those. 3 years later, they gave me stomach aches, and I heard somewhere that in addition to the cancer I was in for, that menthols had fiber-glass and crystallized your lungs. So does weed apparently, So I’m shit out of luck.

“It’s fine.” I said, and I told him to give me the yellows. He obliged. . I asked him about the bandaids, he said that his boss had forced him to the point of losing his job to cover up his tattoos, even the one on his neck, which he told me was a tat of his mom’s name. He looked a lot like Wiz Khalifa, if his face was a little bit longer he would’ve been the spitting fuckin image. I told him that it was fucked up about his boss, and that those fascists should settle down.

He asked me if Penelope was my girlfriend. I didn’t say anything for a moment, and then I asked him if he could tell by the look on my face, what my answer was.

“Ah, one of those huh?” He said, and laughed.

Penelope came up a few seconds later, and bought her milkshake.

“Just this please!” She said, beaming. That milkshake made her so fucking happy. It was insane.

“Oooo! And can I have 4 of those stickers?!” she yelled. She was loud, but she was always smiling, and so beautiful, so nobody said anything, except for Roger, who shut her up every time.

“Yeah, sure.” Reggie said. I gave him the last two dollars in my wallet for two of those stickers too. Multiple sclerosis is fucking awful. Millions of people suffer from it every fucking day, and I wasn’t as well off as Penelope, so the money in my wallet was lonely, but I understood that she cared for those people, and that made me care too.

I told the guy that I felt bad for people with that and fibromyalgia too; we connected, and agreed. We agreed also that weed should not be illegal. What a fucking joke. I pointed at my bracelet that said “Legalize” with a cannabis leaf on it, and he smiled, and we left.
“You want to go back now?” I asked Penelope.

“I want to listen to this song!” She squeaked.

So we jammed up North avenue, three in the morning. My veins pumping alcohol and happiness. Penelope frantically pressed the eject button and cased her Lana Del Rey CD, and put in My Chemical Romance. “I’m Not Okay” was the song she picked. Straws out, vocal chords raw, we sped into the hospital parking lot.

“My Mom used to work here!” I found it hilarious, but I didn’t laugh, because she told me her Mom now works at a prison, where she is paid to deny inmates health insurance. I didn’t ask what she did at the hospital, but I hoped that it was something that didn’t lack compassion.

Back to singing. We reached the top floor of the parking structure, got out of the car, and stared at the lake together. The city was almost as beautiful as Penelope. I didn’t even care about the light pollution, I could see the stars another time. Penelope spit as far as she could. So I spit.

“Mine went wayyyyy farther!” She laughed.

I turned around, walked back about twelve feet, turned around again, and faced the ledge, stern like a statue, then sprinted and spit as far as I could. Penelope was laughing the whole time.

“Sorry, but I win.” I said, smiling.She tried again, all cute, but failed miserably. She even tried with her milkshake, but I was just better.
“I’m cold, lets go!” She said, dancing back to the car.

“Ok!” I said.

We jammed in reverse back down the parking lot, my car hated me, it sounded like a hummingbird trying to fly with one wing. Penelope was laughing and squealing as I had my arm around the passenger seat to hold on. I asked her to change the disc, so she put in a Nick Minaj album. Nicki is so fucking good. If you can’t appreciate her lyrical talent, then I just really don’t understand you, but I guess everyone is different.

Moment 4 Lyfe was playing. Penelope memorized all of Nicki’s albums, and raps to them when it’s played. 5th floor, “I just feel so alive.” Drake cuts in, 1st floor, we jam back to our apartment building.

I pull in the heated parking, straws out, and Penelope still singing.
“I wish I could have this momentttttttt, This is my moment.” Her voice was as beautiful as she was. She was a model when she was younger, but she’s put a lot more than modeling behind her.

We sprinted up the stairs, and rounded the corner to the hallway where my apartment was. I opened the door.
“Hey, Jack. I think I’m gonna to bed. I’m really tired. I have work tomorrow.” She said, finally crashing out. She didn’t drink because she was underage, so she was just drinking coffee that night, and I guess it had been a few hours.

“Ok.” I said, and she rounded the corner to the hallway, out of my line of sight.

I just stood there, thinking to myself, how much my feet hurt.






Sorry, that Nicki Minaj video has to be clean. Stupid fucking youtube. Also this:



This stupid fucking girl put the title of her video as Official Music Video...makeup. Really fucking annoying when I searched for official music video and accidentally clicked this cunt's video.

Well, Cheers.

-alex

<3

Hello boys, I'm BAAAACCKKKK !!!!

Been a while guys. Rough time with the ex, learning about myself, and really hunkering down with this compassion shit, and uhh, like it says at the bottom of every page on here:

I'm working on being nice to everyone. It's really hard.

First off, let me apologize, because this next bit is going to sound pretentious, but if you've met me, you know that I'm really not. Ready? GO.

Jenny was my first love, first infatuation, first roommate, first, 1st, 157, 1st. blah blah you get it; and when you reach a certain intellectual caliber, you realize the world is shit, and that pretty much everything BUT love and its vectors is pointless. /endpretentious

So we fought, like everyone does, and it got bad, it got real bad. Shit I'm not proud of, the only thing I can really say is that I never hit her, but her furniture, her feelings, our apartment. Yeah... Holes in the walls, etc.

We broke up, and it was mutual, but it didn't stay that way. Spent these last months guilting myself, fucking up my semester at UWM, etc.

But I have my friends to thank for helping me pull through. Shout out right hurr just because you fucking deserve it.

WINNERS:MICHEAL GREEN, CHAD IVERSON, JOSH SUKKERT (in no particular order)

With them, I've shared everything. Everything's on the fuckin' table, and we play cards with that shit. (MTG too, +10 nerd points)

But yeah, I've had so many epiphanies, the kinda shit just SMASHES you with a hammer and everything you thought you knew, just to get up again. Humor me for a second, and pretend your me, and imagine you feel like Captain America at 0:19 in this video. That's the kind of smashing I'm talking about. Hahaha.


Thanks to said smashing, thankfully, I've learned how I personally have learned to love, and another shoutout to my wonderful, kind, and loving mother who drowned me in love. I can never thank you enough.

But yeah, I always wondered why Jenny had a problem with me making friends with girls, because I NEVER cheated on her, but I guess I kind of did. Because "cheating" is such an outdated term. People define it as physical contact, or emotional bonding, or the sharing of love. I'm guilty of the last, and it doesn't seem like a big deal right? But Jenny had this #1 complex, like most girls do (yes you, girls). It's biology, I don't blame her, she told me, I obliged. But somewhere along the line, I got lost in the time, lost in my journey of life, and I started sharing my love with everyone again, because that's who I am.

And when it works like this Jennyslove-->Alex(me,derp)-->X=Jenny minus Love
I mean it gets convoluted, because I love her so much, and still do, I'll always care for her. But it came down to me violating her #1 complex, and the resentment just slowly built, like a solid concrete wall, until we were screaming so loud through the wall we both just picked up mallets and smashed it down, to be buried in the rubble.(Stupid people: But you're broken up now, get a life) [Yeah yeah stfu.]

It's all because somewhere along the line, I forgot what I had signed up for. I resented her so much for blocking my female friends, being needy without asking for affection, but I helped her anyway, or I tried, and I think it worked. There was one point in time where she was convinced that something she read in a psychology book was an affliction that she suffered from. Whether it was true or not, IDK, and I don't really care, but I realize that changing someone is not something a lover is supposed to do. Or if they are (idk) I probably should've been nicer; because I've wanted what I had with her since I could fucking remember, since middle school and puberty and fucking vomiting on my shoes (Collean, hahahah); and I just forgot what love is:
not keeping tallies
no grudges
honesty
and kissies :3


Damn, that was really fucking hard to write. ;_;
But yeah, I feel fucking fantastic now. I don't want to say that I'm happy we broke up, but I am thankful for everything it's done for me. I realize who I am again. What I want to be, haha, and it feels so fucking good, you have no idea, or maybe you do ;D.

This compassion train, you gotta hop on it. Loving everyone is so fulfilling, favors, a smile, listening to people, politeness. Most people don't appreciate but I do it anyway because it's fucking hilarious. Like if I see a chick with a cute outfit, or cute shoes, I'm gonna compliment her. But girls are silly (Omg, ew, like, why is he like, talking me, ew.). People are afraid you, they're scared, don't blame them. People suffer through so much shit. [rant]Especially black people, they take so much shit, racists, the political and economic blockade on their class and color, etc [/endrant]
But there's this one letter that I read a long time ago, I stumbledupon it. And I'll edit this post as soon as I can find it and put it right here -->:

But it shared an idea, a perspective on existence and consciousness that made me realize what the world would be like if everyone shot kisses instead of bullets.

Well, Gotta go to work. 10-4. Delivery at Jimmy Johns. Haha, I'm so broke, I'm gonna take the 20$ bank they give me at the start of my shift, and put it in my gas tank. Shits runnin on fumes. My car, its so thusty. :P

Hope y'all have a good day.
Cheers!