The semi-blind date was set for the following week, on a Wednesday of all things. This way they could both have an excuse to end it early, Christian figured. Although his excuse would be a clear fabrication, as his writing "career" didn't necessitate that he woke up at any particular time, or that he woke up at all, really. The thought made him chuckle; the chuckle of a sad clown. He stepped out of his apartment and into the sun and was grateful for the altitude that Denver provided as it kept the sun a little closer to his face on these brisk winter days.
Walking south down Jersey Street he was trying to remember where he parked. His apartment building had a parking space for him though he refused to use it out of spite. He once commented to the management company that ran the complex how ridiculous it was that his spot was on the other side of the massive building from his apartment. They responded by moving his spot even further away, to a corner spot under a tree. Where birds shit on his car all year long. That's not to say that the spot went unoccupied. After the parking spot moving incident he went on craigslist and found a car for only $200. It didn't run, was rusted on nearly every viewable panel, had only one seat, and in fact didn't have any engine in it at all. It was perfect. He called the number, negotiated it down to $100, paid $75 for towing and his spot was soon occupied by a formerly grey, now brown and white, hunk of garbage and eye-sore. The bird shit was quite literally the icing on the cake.
After remembering where he had parked he picked up his pace a little, and made it to the corner of 35 and Jersey just before 8am, when parking fees would be enforced. The black civic came to life quickly as he turned the key and was instantly transported to the night before when Ween had been playing in an ode to his manual labor job days. He fiddled with the iPod until The Beasties infiltrated the air and he lit a cigarette and pulled away.
He was on his way to John's apartment. He had to get out of his own place for a little while and he also wanted to extract some more info about this girl. Also, John's wife, Sarah, was gone for work for a week which meant video games and weed smoking was the new black around their place. She was some type of buyer for a women's clothing store at some mall that he had never heard of. He had known her for ten years.
When he pulled into their driveway twenty minutes later he could see John through the window, either playing with his English Bulldogs or yelling at them. Either way, there were hands pointing to the ground and loud noises. Christian almost knocked on their garish front door, but then remembered that the doorbell set the dogs off and couldn't help himself. He rang the doorbell and heard the sweet sound of two dogs barking, ready to defend their house from whatever terror was outside.
"Jesus Christ, dude," John wasn't as soothed by their barking, "You know they hate that shit."
"I know," Christian responded, "but I wanted to let them know I was here."
"You can just open the door. You don't even have to knock. It's easier for everyone." John had said this a few times before. Christian stepped in and looked around.
"So when is she back again?"
"Next Tuesday. Her mom brought me some food, like I'm gonna starve otherwise. It's in the fridge." Christian went to the fridge.
"I thought she was Japanese?" He asked.
"She is." John replied, still trying to calm the dogs with promises of snausages.
"And she brought you fucking mashed potatoes and pork chops?"
Walking south down Jersey Street he was trying to remember where he parked. His apartment building had a parking space for him though he refused to use it out of spite. He once commented to the management company that ran the complex how ridiculous it was that his spot was on the other side of the massive building from his apartment. They responded by moving his spot even further away, to a corner spot under a tree. Where birds shit on his car all year long. That's not to say that the spot went unoccupied. After the parking spot moving incident he went on craigslist and found a car for only $200. It didn't run, was rusted on nearly every viewable panel, had only one seat, and in fact didn't have any engine in it at all. It was perfect. He called the number, negotiated it down to $100, paid $75 for towing and his spot was soon occupied by a formerly grey, now brown and white, hunk of garbage and eye-sore. The bird shit was quite literally the icing on the cake.
After remembering where he had parked he picked up his pace a little, and made it to the corner of 35 and Jersey just before 8am, when parking fees would be enforced. The black civic came to life quickly as he turned the key and was instantly transported to the night before when Ween had been playing in an ode to his manual labor job days. He fiddled with the iPod until The Beasties infiltrated the air and he lit a cigarette and pulled away.
He was on his way to John's apartment. He had to get out of his own place for a little while and he also wanted to extract some more info about this girl. Also, John's wife, Sarah, was gone for work for a week which meant video games and weed smoking was the new black around their place. She was some type of buyer for a women's clothing store at some mall that he had never heard of. He had known her for ten years.
When he pulled into their driveway twenty minutes later he could see John through the window, either playing with his English Bulldogs or yelling at them. Either way, there were hands pointing to the ground and loud noises. Christian almost knocked on their garish front door, but then remembered that the doorbell set the dogs off and couldn't help himself. He rang the doorbell and heard the sweet sound of two dogs barking, ready to defend their house from whatever terror was outside.
"Jesus Christ, dude," John wasn't as soothed by their barking, "You know they hate that shit."
"I know," Christian responded, "but I wanted to let them know I was here."
"You can just open the door. You don't even have to knock. It's easier for everyone." John had said this a few times before. Christian stepped in and looked around.
"So when is she back again?"
"Next Tuesday. Her mom brought me some food, like I'm gonna starve otherwise. It's in the fridge." Christian went to the fridge.
"I thought she was Japanese?" He asked.
"She is." John replied, still trying to calm the dogs with promises of snausages.
"And she brought you fucking mashed potatoes and pork chops?"
No comments:
Post a Comment