A Dude, a Dyke and a Diner (1094 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.73 on 28 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by ChaosJester (View user info) at 2008-03-04 10:56:44 EST
To Be Continued?
Constructive Criticism is appreciated...
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It all started with a simple question.
"What are you thinking, John?"
Ugh. I hated it when she did this. It seemed like every time there was a short pause in our conversation, Sheila would get this quivery, lost look in her brown eyes and, immediately, squeak out those five words. I don't think it would've bothered me so much if she was actually interested in what was rattling around in my head at the time. No, previous experience had taught me a great deal; namely, that whenever she spoke that asinine phrase, she was really asking me to tell her that I was thinking about how much I loved her.
Unfortunately, this was no longer the case (if it ever actually had been). I suppose everyone has a limit to how much bullshit they're prepared to shovel before things reach a breaking point and I was just about at mine. So, instead of soothing her anxious psyche for what felt like the hundredth time that week, I found myself doing the worst thing possible when a frustrated man is confronted by another's insecurity: I told the truth.
"Okay, Sheila," I said, brushing a hand lightly across her flushed cheek. We'd been through this ritual so many times that the petite woman standing in front of me had an almost Pavlovian reaction to it. Before I'd even begun to continue speaking, the person who I already thought of as my ex-girlfriend was snuggling up to my broad chest, pathetically eager for me to murmur empty words of comfort into her waiting ear. "Ask and ye shall receive. Right now, I'm wondering if that statuesque blonde shopping for a negligee behind you is wearing anything under that skin-tight, crimson mini-skirt. By the way the fabric isn't bunching around her waist, I'm thinking no."
For a moment, Sheila was motionless. Perhaps she was still trying to wrap her mind around the blasphemy I'd just committed. Even back in the days of antiquity when I'd still been fond of her, I wouldn't have accused Sheila of being the sharpest tool in the shed. Now, I grinned inwardly as she slowly stepped back from me and blinked her eyes twice. As this was probably the last time I'd be this close to her, I carefully memorized the light sprinkle of freckles across her cheekbones; those playful dots on her face had always been my favorite thing about her.
"I suppose it's a good thing you didn't ask me what I was thinking earlier when we were walking outside the mall. I mean, can you imagine what all those little old ladies with pink hair would've thought when I told you how curious I was to see the exact expression on your face while you were getting railed by the massive German Sheppard who was leading that blind fellow across the parking lot?" I shook my head and smiled ruefully as Sheila repeatedly opened and closed her mouth in what I assumed to be something akin to shocked horror. "Whew," I said. "Close one, that."
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As you might imagine, the conversation spiraled downward quite quickly after that. A few minutes later, I was single and had a bright red handprint across my face. For the moment, I couldn't have been happier. As I watched Sheila scream off in her cherry-colored convertible, I pondered which of my friends was most likely to give me a ride home. As always, I settled on Rachel. Pulling out my trusty cell-phone that looked like it had seen better decades, I quickly dialed her number. After three rings, a groggy voice muttered something that was either a greeting or a curse; knowing Rachel, it was probably both.
"How's it hangin', Carpet-Muncher?"
"Goddammit, John. Do you have *any* idea what time it is?"
"Yup," I replied, glancing at my watch. "Almost noon. Get outta bed, sleepy head, and kick whichever lingerie model you're currently playing with to the curb; I need a ride."
"Fuck off, Pencil-Dick. It's Sunday. You know I don't get out of bed before three on Sunday. Besides," she continued when another female voice finished muffling something, "Angel's right. I owe her a damn fine tongue-lashing after last night. Why don't you go bother that trollop who's obsessed with you? Wossername? Oh yeah, Sheila. Call her. I'm sure she's dying to hear from you."
"Well," I said, "I would, except that she's the one who left me stranded here at the West Oaks Mall in the first place."
After a short pause, Rachel told me to hold on. A few moments later, I heard a door close. "Okay," she said, "I'm in the bathroom. Spill it, Bitch; what happened?"
"Oh, hell no. You wanna hear the story, you come pick me up; otherwise you can just get your gossip second-hand at the salon like the rest of your split-tailed ilk."
"Fine," she said after a bit of grumbling. "I'll be there in about half an hour. Brunch at the usual spot?"
"Yeah, I could eat. Rachel?"
"What?"
"Thanks."
"Oh, get raped, you big queen."
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Forty-five minutes later, Rachel and I were sitting at a small, Formica-covered table in the tiny Mom-and-Pop diner we'd been frequenting semi-regularly for the last few years. I don't really remember why we started meeting there; I think it had something to do with being open and quiet in the small hours of the night when we both liked to talk about whatever conundrum was currently on our minds.
Rachel and I had originally met up in college many, many years back and several cities away. We were both pretty stupid kids back then (Rachel had still been in the closet and I was just beginning to realize that the family dream of my becoming a surgeon simply wasn't going to happen). We disagreed on so much, but, at the end of the day, our arguments always seemed to produce new ideas rather than frustrated anger. I think that, more than anything else, kept us from detesting each other.
At any rate, time passed and college ended. Rachel went on to Law School and I just sort of...drifted. I'm not really sure why I got a degree in Accounting; I'd always been pretty good with numbers, so it seemed like a viable choice after I decided that Medical School wasn't for me. Eventually, I fell into a job with the IRS. Nowadays, I spend my time finding tax evaders. Not the most glamorous job, I admit, but it pays the bills. Besides, it's pretty fun catching people who think they've fooled the taxmen.
While I'd lost contact with most of my college acquaintances, Rachel and I kept exchanging the occasional e-mail/Christmas/Birthday card. Nothing special; just a quiet wave now and again. A couple years back, I was transferred to a new city and discovered, almost by accident, that Rachel (now, a Big-Time defense attorney) lived just a few minutes away. We exchanged phone numbers via e-mail and I made a vague suggestion to 'get coffee sometime'. Honestly, I didn't expect to hear from her. After all, we hadn't spoken in years; why should now be any different?
Very late that night (or, rather, wrenchingly early the next morning), my phone rang. Expecting to hear that a family member had died, I picked up the receiver and was astounded to hear Rachel's half-forgotten voice on the other end asking if I really wanted that cup of coffee. She sounded like she'd been crying, so I agreed to meet her at a nearby diner (the one we were sitting at currently, in fact).
That cup of coffee turned into a five-hour conversation that seemed to touch on everything from Rachel's just-imploded two-year relationship with some fashion designer to my own disastrous near-experience with marriage (she left me at the altar after a year-long engagement) to the various major point-of-view shifts we'd both experienced over the years. For my own part, after I got over the fact that my once vaguely mannish and Ultra-feminist college pal had been transmogrified into a paradigm of lush, feminine beauty (her time with the fashion chick was obviously well-spent), I discovered that I had suddenly acquired a new best friend.
Fast forward several months and a whole lot of late-night conversations and you're pretty much up to speed.
"So," Rachel said, leaning forward and placing her forearms on the table. "You and Sheila. Speak."
"What's there to tell?" I said, shrugging my shoulders. "I finally got tired of her constant whining."
"Oh, no doubt," Rachel replied, arching one immaculately coifed eyebrow. "I had enough of that after knowing her for ten minutes. Still, you were getting sick of her shit months ago, yet you still tolerated it. Why break things off now?"
"It's hard to explain," I began. "At first, it felt really, really good to be needed. It was like my very presence nourished her. Like I was food and drink for her soul. Even though there were times when I absolutely couldn't stand to be near her, she would give me this look of total, abject devotion and my heart would melt all over again."
"And then," Rachel prompted after I was silent for a few moments.
"Then things began to change. She was like a heroin junkie. She needed to be around me more and more. Even when we were together, there seemed to be something missing. Like something about us was either lost or just no longer satisfactory; she kept trying harder and harder to get back to those early, perfect moments." I sighed. "Of course, the more she tried, the more I realized that I wasn't in love with her; that I probably hadn't ever been in love with her. I'd only been in love with the idea of someone adoring me.
"You know how the rest goes; we've both been there enough. Without the infatuation to keep the relationship going, things kept degenerating until fighting was the only thing keeping us together. So I ended it."
"You certainly did. Y'know," Rachel continued, "I didn't think Sheila had it in her to just leave you in the dust like that. What did you say to her?"
"Oh. Well, I might have, um."
"Yessss?" the lesbian sitting across from me drawled, wriggling in anticipation.
"...Suggested that I'd enjoy watching her get fucked by a dog."
"Huh," Rachel said, pursing her lips. "That'd do it, if anything could." Almost off-handedly, she added, "You're a disgusting pig, you know that?"
"Yeah," I said, nodding. "I know."
After a brief pause, she looked at me quizzically, grinning. "What sort of dog?"
"Come again?"
"You heard me. Which particular canine did you 'suggest' Sheila engage in carnal acts with?"
"Christ, does it matter?!"
"Hey, don't get all holier-than-thou with me, mister. I'm not the one who suggested beastiality as a way to get a human barnacle to break up with me."
"Fine. A German Sheppard. Happy now?"
Rachel chuckled for a moment, then howled softly. "Oh yeah. That's fuckin' hot, baby. I CRAVE me some o' that giant doggie cock!"
I stared at the by-now uproariously laughing woman sitting across from me. "You are having entirely too much fun with this."
"Oh relax, John. If you can't laugh at your friends, who can you laugh at? Hey," she said after a moment, "I think I've got the perfect rebound girl for you."
"Uh, I don't think I really want to meet any many more of your single, straight friends. The last date you set me up on tried to convert me to Scientology."
"Jeez," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes, "One mistake and I'm branded for life. C'mon, this one is super-cool. Sorta twisted though, which is why I think you'll like her. She's rich too, if that makes any difference."
"Okay," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "How bad could it be?"
"Atta boy," Rachel said, smiling with entirely too many teeth. Somehow, I failed to be reassured.
User Reviews
Submitted by haikumikoo (user info) at 2008-03-12 18:50:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it, you creepy bastard.
"As you might imagine", I don't think you should talk to the reader like that, at least, I didn't enjoy it.
"Goddammit, John. Do you have *any* idea what time it is?" - Do me a favor and use <i>these guys</i>, doesn't work for reviews, but for posts you can put things in <b>bold</b>, <i>italicize</i>, and even <u>underline!</u>
Ditto for some line where you CAPITALIZED something for the same effect.
Submitted by JustAnotherStudent (user info) at 2008-03-07 21:52:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
All the backstory you threw into the third part really derailed the flow of the story. Overall, quite nice.
Submitted by orphelia (user info) at 2008-03-06 05:35:44 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by HellRazer (user info) at 2008-03-05 21:51:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked this.
Submitted by cerpin_taxt (user info) at 2008-03-05 20:41:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
me*
here's two more because i can't spell
Submitted by cerpin_taxt (user info) at 2008-03-05 20:40:38 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice job, kept my really interested.
Submitted by Lib (user info) at 2008-03-05 15:12:02 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by X54 (user info) at 2008-03-04 22:43:03 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
It started off good, but my eyes glazed over with all that back story in the third section. Some of the dialog sounded a little forced to me (do you really say "how's it hanging" to a girl?). If anything could keep me reading beyond where you're at now it would be the promise of a threesome, but I don't see it.
And unless it's essential to some future part of the story, I'd recommend picking some other occupation for your narrator. An IRS agent? I'm thinking I'd like to see him get fucked by a german shephard.
On the other hand, maybe something really bad is going to happen to him. His dyke friend with a strap-on? In that case, keep him as an IRS agent.
Submitted by HotWillie (user info) at 2008-03-04 17:42:57 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
A Dude, a Dyke and a Diner.
What amenities does ChaosJester expect at Motel 6?
Submitted by Hookhand (user info) at 2008-03-04 15:52:40 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by Hookhand (user info) at 2008-03-04 15:52:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This deserves a 1.5
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2008-03-04 14:15:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Blinkish (user info) at 2008-03-04 13:58:23 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I enjoyed this.
It does seems very shallow at this point, the characters are fairly one dimensional. But if continued this could turn into a good little short story saga.
Write another!
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2008-03-04 12:27:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I hated it when she did this. It seemed like every time there was a short pause in our conversation, Sheila would get this quivery, lost look in her brown eyes and, immediately, squeak out those five words.
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I hate it when I hear that.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-03-04 12:01:53 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by LittleMonster (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:56:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good read CJ, continue it for me? Pretty please? *looks adoringly*
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Yes, why not? A rom-com for Uber.
Perhaps afterwards we can persuade Habeeb to do a childrens book.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:58:17 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Berty makes me happy.
:)
Submitted by LittleMonster (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:56:42 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Good read CJ, continue it for me? Pretty please? *looks adoringly*
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:52:51 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Yeah this is pretty good. Nice and cliché, sex in the city style which is wholly fitting for your 7ft tall, bald, covered in badges persona. Whilst the potty mouth and dog fucking will have little impact on our jaded community; it'll doubtless curl the toes of housewives everywhere.
The jokes are pithy, the cruelty very human and the language use efficent. Good show.
Submitted by MudWhistle (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:42:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't love your dialogue.
To be honest I only gave this a really quick read. Liked the story and how it unfolded, but that dialogue...
Can't really decide exactly why it doesn't sit well. I guess it comes across as being a little more premeditated thought than casual and off the cuff conversation between two friends. At least in John's case. (was that his name? don't even remember now)
Not sure if that makes sense, but it's really all the time I'm devoting to it, so OH WELL.
Oh yeah...it's German Shepherd. Not Sheppard. Even little mistakes can distract, FYI.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:23:56 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Paralyzed_By_Hope (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:21:41 EST (#)
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I loves you?
Submitted by scourge (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:23:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't love your dialogue.
To be honest I only gave this a really quick read. Liked the story and how it unfolded, but that dialogue...
Can't really decide exactly why it doesn't sit well. I guess it comes across as being a little more premeditated thought than casual and off the cuff conversation between two friends. At least in John's case. (was that his name? don't even remember now)
Not sure if that makes sense, but it's really all the time I'm devoting to it, so OH WELL.
Oh yeah...it's German Shepherd. Not Sheppard. Even little mistakes can distract, FYI.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:22:50 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:17:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it. seemed that not a lot happened and what did was over very quickly, still I guess you were just introducing characters.
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Yeah. As what frequently happens when I set out to write, my characters take off and turn a nice, short, well-thought out piece into a giant, unwieldy mess.
But that's life, hey?
Submitted by Paralyzed_By_Hope (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:21:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
The type of canine would definitely matter. Imagining your girlfriend getting railed by a chihuahua creates a very different characterization than the german shepherd.
Submitted by woolfe (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:17:50 EST (#)
Ranking: -1
Yep - you're a right twat.
Submitted by DrogoRoch (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:17:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it. seemed that not a lot happened and what did was over very quickly, still I guess you were just introducing characters.
He's a taxman ewwwwwwwww
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:06:15 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Quite a few spelling mistakes, and sometimes you go over board on elaborating on your imagery... still good though.
Submitted by ChaosJester (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:05:39 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
So, so true...
:(
Submitted by Yozz (user info) at 2008-03-04 11:03:26 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Constructive Criticism is appreciated...
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Ok, you're an idiot.