I wake up in the morning, feeling completely unfulfilled. It's a Saturday morning, meaning that nothing any good is on TV. I sigh, remembering the utter suck factor of the dance yesterday. It was a school dance, which was the first indicator of boredom. Secondly, we had to pay five dollars. And third, there was an abundance of unattractive freshman girls. Some would have been attractive, had they been wearing less leather, less fishnet, or less makeup. At least I got my money's worth out of taking more than the allotted two sodas, and joining my friend in a chase to regain his hat from his friend's drunk girlfriend. It's not like I was expecting it to be any better than it wasn't, but still. One may hope.
About fifteen minutes have passed since I got up and started my musing. I get out of bed, scratching my face. I hadn't shaved in, oh, three days.
My room is a mess, I note dispassionately. This fact has absolutely no impact on my life, save for the fact that I'll probably be forced to clean it later today if I don't find an excuse to get out of the house. Groaning at the thought of having to clean, I get dressed and stumble out of my room. The hardwood floors make a odd noise as I step on them.
My parents are already awake. Not good. I may be assigned a chore at any minute. To delay the inevitable, I grab some frozen food, put it in the microwave, go outside, and grab a generic Slim-Fast - my standard breakfast. After the processed pseudo food is ready, I grab a fork and head to the sunroom to eat in peace. I grab the nearest book, which I've read more times than I can count, and begin to read. After about ten minutes, when I've read half the three hundred and forty-two page book (I speed- read,) I feel at a loss for anything to do. Even cleaning seems better than the void of boredom that will come when I don't do my cleaning because I'd rather be bored. Plus, I have the nagging voice of creativity screaming at me, "Get off your lazy ass and do something creative."
Do what that's creative? I think. The voice pauses.
"Bite me. That's your job." the voice says. I sigh, wishing that my other personas didn't have to be as much of a smartass as I am. I'm still hungry, and I'd gotten used to a sugar rush in the morning from yogurt. I get up, sighing. Maybe I can make myself some snickerdoodles. I've got the ingredients, it gives me something to do, and it might get me out of cleaning. I grab the flour, sugar, salt, baking soda, and other random ingredients, and start making myself some cookies. After I slide the first tray in, I decide to make my mother some wheat-free cookies, because she's allergic to wheat.
Halfway through the first batch's baking, my mom tells me something that changes the course of the day.
"Julie heard about your pie, and she wants to know if you can make her some next weekend."
What the hell. I think. I'm already cooking. Why not make more?
"Sure." I reply. "Why not invite her over and I can make some more cookies, make some salsa, and barbecue some meat, as well as a pie?"
Oops. I think. Did I really say all that? I know I'll have to clean now.
"Sure!" my mom gushes. "We'll have to clean, though."
Oh, fuck. It's the "C" word. Quickly, think of something to get yourself out of it.
"How about I do all the cooking and you do the cleaning and entertaining?" I ask nervously. My mom looks dubious, until, thank god, my dad says, "I'll help clean."
This makes up for you still not giving me my sixty bucks. But you'll still have to pay me.
"Maybe I can invite a friend over?" I ask.
Say yes, damn you.
"Sure. Who?"
Who do you think?
"Kim."
"Oh, well, ok."
Goodie. Now I'll have a day of cooking, and at the end, I'll be with Kim.
"Awesome."
This being taken care of, I pick my foods and recipes. I end up deciding on snickerdoodles, peanut butter cookies, chocolate chip cookies, key lime pie, salsa, tri-tip, chicken, and maybe some black beans. This being arranged, my mom wrote down the shopping list, butchering the spelling of almost everything on the list.
"Wait. I've got to take a shower." I say, and scurry to the shower. Once in the shower, my mental DJ picks a diss remix of "My Name Is" by Feminem. After laughing my ass off at the remix, I get out of the shower. I dry off quickly, get dressed, and get ready to go.
"So are you ready to go, Dad?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I'm vacuuming the room."
We got new carpeting two days ago. I highly doubt that it's gotten dirty in that time.
"Oh."
"I'll be ready in a few minutes."
So I go and get in the car. Roughly seven minutes later, my dad comes tot he car. As we pull out, my mom runs to the car.
"Did you remember the shopping list?"
No. I'm an idiot who doesn't remember something he put in his pocket two seconds after it was created, I think sarcastically. Sighing, I pull out the list and wave it. She smiles, and we leave.
"You should be driving."
"It's annoying not to drive."
"You know the solution to that, right?"
Yes, but the solution is worse than having the problem.
After a few minutes, we arrive at Bel-Air. My dad shoves the cart at me, so I go and start grabbing the vegetables I need. I notice that my dad had disappeared.
You'd better not expect me to pay for this, or we're not going to eat.
I finish selecting the vegetables, and go on to finding a bag of chips, and some dry ingredients. Halfway through, my dad shows up with two deli items.
"Here you go." he says, taking off again.
Great. Just great.
After I find everything on my list except for key limes, I go back to the produce. A thorough search produces no key limes. My dad shows up again as I grab a few more serrano peppers. Oddly enough, right next to him is Castro, Julie's husband. We chat for a while, and I grab six more limes.
After we say our farewells, my dad asks me, "Aren't there any key limes?"
"No."
"Did you check?"
Is today the day to ask stupid questions, or what?
"Yes."
"Go ask that person over there. They might have some in back."
No, they won't. When it becomes obvious that I'm not going to ask, my dad goes over and asks. The obvious is confirmed, and he walks back and begins to lecture me about being shy.
I'm not shy. I just don't ask total strangers stupid fucking questions.
After the random boredom is finished, there is the trial of finding a line. After two attempts to get a good line, I settle for the one in front of me.
"Hey! The world's going to end again!" I exclaim, pointing at the tabloids. "About time."
We slowly go through the line, and I scan the other tabloid headlines. Entirely crap. At least it kills time.
"So, what are you doing?" the clerk says.
Buying groceries and listening to stupid questions. You?
"I'm cooking." I say.
"You cook?"
What did I just say?
"Yes."
"What are you making?"
Not much, just grilling up some Mind Your Own Business!
"Just some food."
Thankful for the chat to be over, we move towards our car. The bag- boy follows, eager to talk.
"How are you guys today?"
I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.
"Good."
"Going to do anything this evening?"
Why? Are you trying to ask me out?
"Cook."
"That's cool."
"Mmm."
"It's hot out here."
No, really? Not that it's summer or anything...
My dad takes over the meaningless drivel from that point. He loads the groceries fairly quickly. We take off and head home.
I open up two beers, and consider drinking from one of them. After realizing that it's not enough to do anything, and that I'd probably get caught, I poured it on top of the beef and chicken to have it be ready for the barbecue. Afterwards, I make the peanut butter cookies, then I sit down to relax.
"Clean up your mess!"
Your job, not mine.
"I'll do it this time, but next time, you'll do it."
Whatever.
I have time enough to make the pie mixture, spoon it into the shells, and put it in the oven. Ten minutes pass.
"You should probably start the barbecue."
Oops. I run outside, stuff the barbecue with charcoal, and light it. I have time enough to go inside and sit down before the time goes off. I move some of the beers in the fridge out of the way for the pies, then put the pies in. After this, I put the chicken on the barbecue.
Now, for the chocolate chip cookies. Normally, I'd make these with the help of a mixer, but this time, I'm going by hand. I want kick-ass cookies, and I know how that feels to a hand with a spoon. After the dough is made, I form two dozen.
The barbecue, dumbass.
"Hey Dad? Could you form this last bit of dough for me?"
The chicken is looking great, but it needs some liquid on it. I brush the marinade on, flip the chicken and run back inside.
Oh, right...I need to call Kim. So I cal her, and I invite her, listing the foods.
"I'd love to go, but I've got to get my hair done first. My mom's taking me today."
Okay...
"OK. Call me back if you can go."
"OK."
We chat meaninglessly for a while until my timer goes off for the last batch of cookies.
"Hold on for a sec. I gotta get the cookies."
The bottoms are slightly crispy. Damn. I quickly transfer them to a plate, then get back on the phone.
"Sorry about that."
"It's ok. I have to go, but I'll call you in a while."
"Alright. See ya."
Well, at least she's talking to me. Even if she doesn't show up, we at least had a nice chat.
The salsa has to be made now. Also, the chicken has to be marinated and turned. I run outside, flip and marinate the chicken, run back in, and find that my mother has cut the tomatoes and the onions. I chop the cilantro, drop it in, and run back outside to flip the chicken again. I rush back in, tell my mom how to cut the peppers, grab a plate to put the chicken on, and run outside. After flipping and marinating the chicken once more, I realize that it's almost ready.
I rush back inside, add the peppers and lime juice, and stir the salsa. It looks good and smells better. I put a spoonful of the secret ingredient in, then stir it. It looks great. I need to taste it. I reach for a chip hungrily, then remember- the chicken.
I sprint outside, take the chicken off the barbecue, put it on a plate, and bring it in. As I do this, Julie arrives. There is much greeting, and I bring the tri-tip out to the barbecue. I head back in and taste the salsa. It could use more lime. I bring out two more, squeeze them, and then relax. It's almost eating time.
The phone rings. It's Kim. She tells me that she'll be able to come over soon. I hear an odd noise in the background.
"What's that?" I ask.
"The sound of Jessica-"
Bitch!
"-crying."
From the phone, I hear, "You're going-" followed by something I can't understand, then I hear "-with him?"
"Yes." Kim says. I hear Jessica moan again.
Dance, be-yotch! I think, grinning.
"So I'll see you in a while." Kim tells me. "See ya."
"See ya." I laugh. The last sound I hear is a final crying noise from Jessica.
Not saying that she's evil, but if you touched her with a wooden cross, it would burst in flames, I think, laughing at getting one-up on her.
Julie is enjoying my cookies and salsa in the kitchen. "This is really good. I like the hotness of it."
"Thank you." I reply. Julie and my mother go out to pick figs. I look in the cabinets, grab some tostadas, shred some chicken, and make some appetizers before dinner. I go outside, hand my dad a tostada, then flip the meat.
Ten minutes more per side and it'll be rare, twice that will be medium rare, and five minutes at the end will make it slightly rare. Q.E.D.
I head back inside and spoon some salsa on my tostada. As I'm eating in content, Kim shows up and opens the front door. I'm amazed at her new hairstyle. It boosts her hotness factor up from "cute" to "whoa". The whole party greets her.
Finally, after my mom shows her the new hardwood floor and carpets, the meat is ready. I bring it in, and it looks truly succulent. I carve some slices, heat up some tortillas, and pull out some plates.
Thank god, I'm done cooking.
"I don't know how much you guys want, so serve yourselves." I say. I serve myself a good amount of food. Kim and I go out into the sunroom to eat. I taste my food.
Holy crap, I think. I amaze myself. This is really, really good food.
We eat, talking about random nothingness for a while. Finally, we finish our food. I go inside, and start serving pie. Kim and I go back outside, and eat our pie. I can't finish mine- I'm way, way too full, and the pie is way, way, too rich.
"Care to take a walk?" Kim asks, a smile on her face.
"Alright. But first, you have to slide across the hallway."
I give her a pair of clean socks, and we spend five minutes sliding up and down the hallway. Finally, we go for our walk. We go up to the store, look around, the we leave and cross the street.
"Think we can get into that house?" Kim asks me, pointing to two halves of a house paused in a dirt lost.
The two of us, alone, out of sight? Sounds awesome.
"Let's try." I say, and we look around. Of course, there's no way in.
"Oh well. Let's just find a trail and follow it." Kim says. I nod, and we go on a trail leading to nowhere. I'm following her as she leads the way to utter solitude. We're out of sight from anybody, but we keep on walking.
"Look! A hiding spot! Want to go in?" she asks.
Do dogs piss on fireplugs?
"Yes." I reply evenly. We crawl in, and follow the new trail. We keep going, on the trail, and find ourselves almost at my house.
"What the...?" I ask.
"Did you think we'd be here?" Kim asked.
"No." I reply, kind of annoyed. We walk the rest of the way to my house.
"Long way or short way?"
"Long."
Damn.
"Damn."
Kim laughs at me. We head the rest of the way into the house, sit, and talk once again. Julie calls me, and it is arranged that I make her a pie next weekend, as well as helping her with Christmas cooking. She leaves, and I head back to talk with Kim.
"Care to go outside and sit on the bridge?" I ask her. She nods, and we go outside and sit on the bridge next to one of the ponds. Almost at once, my mother stands by the window and begins to wash dishes.
Ever heard of the word 'subtle'?
Kim looks at my mom.
"She's spying on us."
No, really?
"Maybe we should move." I say.
"Ok." So we sneak over to the sunroom's sliding glass door, and sit out of sight. After a few seconds, my dad walks over to the garbage can to watch us (and throw away the trash.)
I guess the haven't.
"What time is it? I have to call my mother." Kim says. She goes to call, and returns after she's done.
"I've got to wait for her outside." she says. So we go out to the front.
"I bet my parents are going to clean the windows or something." I say.
"Probably." Kim agrees.
Almost on cue, my mom opens the front door and says her second round of goodbyes. A few minutes later, Kim's mother pulls up. I give Kim a hug goodbye, and head back inside.
My parents begin to watch Platoon, and I begin to write "Go With The Flow," the fourth installment in The Kel'Dar Universe. At 2 AM, my parents go to bed. I finish roughly thirty minutes later, and sigh.
What a long, strange day it's been.