Post by Valentin on Aug 21, 2013 2:09:09 GMT -5
It was one of those hot summer days, filled with the staticy radio playing muffled 80's songs and the high pitched trilling of cicadas. Perfect for going to the beach with some friends.
Or, it would be.
If I had any friends.
I pulled a beer out of the fridge and popped it open. It hissed in protest and the ice cold liquid trickled down my throat. I slammed it on the table and sighed.
Today was my 22nd birthday, and this was my means of celebration. I had briefly thought about buying myself a cake;but then chuckled and decided that idea was far too ludacris. When I was younger, my parents would take me out to do something only mildly entertaining, but at least someone was there. Someone cared. I smiled wistfully at the memory. If I had been turning 15, everyone would still be here. But I'm alone with nothing but a case of nasty depression and enough money from life insurance so that I'll never have to work a day in my life.
Fair enough.
I twirled my hair around and sat down on the couch, beer in hand. "Somebody fuck me," I pleaded to the heavens. I laughed at myself.
I clicked through the channels and yawned. The news flashed some pictures of a car accident, a TV chef was showing off his new recipe, and a colorful children's cartoon character happily bounced along the screen. I turned it off and stood up.
"I'm going out today," I said to my old tabby cat, Minx. He lifted his head up and then went back to sleep. What an ungrateful bastard.
The alcohol was still in my system, which made going out and doing anything a lot more tolerable. Fun, even.
I readied myself quickly and hopped into the car;it had been my mom's. It still ran fine so I hadn't even bothered to procure myself a new one.
In fact, I hadn't even bothered to do a lot of things.
My mind wandered as I reflexively drove downtown. There were a lot of gimmecky shops where I lived, selling gag gifts and trinkets too expensive that you'd have to be insane to purchase them.
Insane, or just very fond of life size flamingo figurines. Perhaps those things meant the same thing.
I stepped out of the car and my heels clicked on the concrete. I smoothed my hair and went into a shop I knew and loved, Jim's Country Shoppe. Shout out to Jim for being creative. A man from behind the counter greeted me and mumbled a hello back. He must be Jim. If he wasn't Jim, he would become Jim to me from now on. Jim's shop really went out of its way to bring you that "country feel". The floor and walls were all dark wood, and knick-knacks of crows and roosters
were arranged in the awful and overpriced clusterfuck that was known as Jim's Country Shoppe.
The shop consisted of just two rooms, both hosting the same garb. Candles and potpurri and
pretty things to hang on your wall that assured you that god exists, life is fair, and love
conquers all.
Shit on me.
In the far back, there was a small bakery. They sold "homemade" pies and sweetbreads, that
thanks to placebo effect, were much better than the ones you buy in the freezer aisle for half the price.
No matter how shitty Jim's country shoppe was, this is where I had decided to buy myself a birthday present. Hell, I deserved it. Didn't I? I'd gotten through an entire year without killing someone, amazingly, including myself.
I'd been good. I stepped into the far room and noticed that a rare customer was sharing the shop with me; a girl about my age. I felt instantly self-conscious of myself, but then I felt silly. I wasn't in high school anymore;in fact, I'd never go to school. I'd never see this girl again.
She seemed to be enamored by the Jim's Country Shoppe atmosphere as she closely examined a cheaply made silver bracelet. She slid it onto her skinny wrist and seemed pleased with the result.
I picked through shelves of sunglasses, wallets, and necklaces that were apparently "magic". (the magic being that you magically give us your money.) I picked one of the magic necklaces up and read the tag that came with it, frowning. Good luck for the rest of your life. You
could probably even cure cancer.
"That necklace is really pretty!" The voice startled me. It was the bracelet girl, her green eyes crinkled up in a smile. "I was looking at it before, I think you should buy it." She said. I furrowed my brow. It had been a long time since I had spoken with anyone my own age, in the same room as I am now.
"Do you think so?" I said, trying to keep any hint of bitterness out of my voice. I don't think I succeeded.
"Yes, I do!" She said. She had light, nearly platinum blonde hair that was pulled back in a tight braid that she was either an expert at doing, or spent an ungodly amount of time fiddling with. She must bleach the shit out of that hair.
I shrugged. "Maybe I will, then." I looked at it again. The necklace itself wasn't terribly ugly. It was tolerable, cheap, but tolerable. The fake rhinestones glistened as I palmed them over in my hand. A present it is, then.
She smiled again. "Cool! My name's Jessica, by the way. It was nice meeting you!" Jessica. What a generic, harmless name. No one named Jessica would commit a string of murders. Unless a Jessica already has, in which case, I look dumb.
"Mine's Arisa. It was nice meeting you too," I said, managing a smile for politeness. I'd feel bad if I offended innocent Jessica. Clutching the necklace in my left hand, I rounded the corner and headed back to Jim, who was reading a Time Magazine. He looked up at me and smiled widely as I placed the necklace on the counter. "Will that be all for you today, miss?" He said.
"Yes." I slid a twenty on the counter. He put the necklace into a crinkly plastic bag and handed it to me. I thanked him quietly and headed for the door. My escape. I felt like Jim's Country Shoppe was much worse than prison, even though I had sentenced my self here. Something about my utter detest for this place was strangely comforting. No matter how much I hated it here, I could always just run for the door and leave, and I'd never have to think about Jim or Jessica ever again.
You'd ask me in a year if I remember my visit to Jim's Country Shoppe, and I would say no. It's a reassurance that life is temporary.
That, or I'm just a masochist.
Probably both.
Or, it would be.
If I had any friends.
I pulled a beer out of the fridge and popped it open. It hissed in protest and the ice cold liquid trickled down my throat. I slammed it on the table and sighed.
Today was my 22nd birthday, and this was my means of celebration. I had briefly thought about buying myself a cake;but then chuckled and decided that idea was far too ludacris. When I was younger, my parents would take me out to do something only mildly entertaining, but at least someone was there. Someone cared. I smiled wistfully at the memory. If I had been turning 15, everyone would still be here. But I'm alone with nothing but a case of nasty depression and enough money from life insurance so that I'll never have to work a day in my life.
Fair enough.
I twirled my hair around and sat down on the couch, beer in hand. "Somebody fuck me," I pleaded to the heavens. I laughed at myself.
I clicked through the channels and yawned. The news flashed some pictures of a car accident, a TV chef was showing off his new recipe, and a colorful children's cartoon character happily bounced along the screen. I turned it off and stood up.
"I'm going out today," I said to my old tabby cat, Minx. He lifted his head up and then went back to sleep. What an ungrateful bastard.
The alcohol was still in my system, which made going out and doing anything a lot more tolerable. Fun, even.
I readied myself quickly and hopped into the car;it had been my mom's. It still ran fine so I hadn't even bothered to procure myself a new one.
In fact, I hadn't even bothered to do a lot of things.
My mind wandered as I reflexively drove downtown. There were a lot of gimmecky shops where I lived, selling gag gifts and trinkets too expensive that you'd have to be insane to purchase them.
Insane, or just very fond of life size flamingo figurines. Perhaps those things meant the same thing.
I stepped out of the car and my heels clicked on the concrete. I smoothed my hair and went into a shop I knew and loved, Jim's Country Shoppe. Shout out to Jim for being creative. A man from behind the counter greeted me and mumbled a hello back. He must be Jim. If he wasn't Jim, he would become Jim to me from now on. Jim's shop really went out of its way to bring you that "country feel". The floor and walls were all dark wood, and knick-knacks of crows and roosters
were arranged in the awful and overpriced clusterfuck that was known as Jim's Country Shoppe.
The shop consisted of just two rooms, both hosting the same garb. Candles and potpurri and
pretty things to hang on your wall that assured you that god exists, life is fair, and love
conquers all.
Shit on me.
In the far back, there was a small bakery. They sold "homemade" pies and sweetbreads, that
thanks to placebo effect, were much better than the ones you buy in the freezer aisle for half the price.
No matter how shitty Jim's country shoppe was, this is where I had decided to buy myself a birthday present. Hell, I deserved it. Didn't I? I'd gotten through an entire year without killing someone, amazingly, including myself.
I'd been good. I stepped into the far room and noticed that a rare customer was sharing the shop with me; a girl about my age. I felt instantly self-conscious of myself, but then I felt silly. I wasn't in high school anymore;in fact, I'd never go to school. I'd never see this girl again.
She seemed to be enamored by the Jim's Country Shoppe atmosphere as she closely examined a cheaply made silver bracelet. She slid it onto her skinny wrist and seemed pleased with the result.
I picked through shelves of sunglasses, wallets, and necklaces that were apparently "magic". (the magic being that you magically give us your money.) I picked one of the magic necklaces up and read the tag that came with it, frowning. Good luck for the rest of your life. You
could probably even cure cancer.
"That necklace is really pretty!" The voice startled me. It was the bracelet girl, her green eyes crinkled up in a smile. "I was looking at it before, I think you should buy it." She said. I furrowed my brow. It had been a long time since I had spoken with anyone my own age, in the same room as I am now.
"Do you think so?" I said, trying to keep any hint of bitterness out of my voice. I don't think I succeeded.
"Yes, I do!" She said. She had light, nearly platinum blonde hair that was pulled back in a tight braid that she was either an expert at doing, or spent an ungodly amount of time fiddling with. She must bleach the shit out of that hair.
I shrugged. "Maybe I will, then." I looked at it again. The necklace itself wasn't terribly ugly. It was tolerable, cheap, but tolerable. The fake rhinestones glistened as I palmed them over in my hand. A present it is, then.
She smiled again. "Cool! My name's Jessica, by the way. It was nice meeting you!" Jessica. What a generic, harmless name. No one named Jessica would commit a string of murders. Unless a Jessica already has, in which case, I look dumb.
"Mine's Arisa. It was nice meeting you too," I said, managing a smile for politeness. I'd feel bad if I offended innocent Jessica. Clutching the necklace in my left hand, I rounded the corner and headed back to Jim, who was reading a Time Magazine. He looked up at me and smiled widely as I placed the necklace on the counter. "Will that be all for you today, miss?" He said.
"Yes." I slid a twenty on the counter. He put the necklace into a crinkly plastic bag and handed it to me. I thanked him quietly and headed for the door. My escape. I felt like Jim's Country Shoppe was much worse than prison, even though I had sentenced my self here. Something about my utter detest for this place was strangely comforting. No matter how much I hated it here, I could always just run for the door and leave, and I'd never have to think about Jim or Jessica ever again.
You'd ask me in a year if I remember my visit to Jim's Country Shoppe, and I would say no. It's a reassurance that life is temporary.
That, or I'm just a masochist.
Probably both.