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