I give you, a second clip of me acting. Here’s the first if you think you can handle it.
I was visiting my friend in Portland when a few dozen beers led to some ingenious sketch ideas. This is one of them.
- Thomas M. Watt
- Author of Master
Tag Archives: dates
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 7
“What’s your wife doin’?” said the driver.
“That’s not my…” Calvin shook his head. “I don’t know. She’ll be right back, though.”
“You better hope so, fair’s runnin.”
“She’ll be here in a sec, said she would.”
Calvin listened to “Bittersweet Symphony” on his Ipod again, and couldn’t stop replaying the kiss in his head. It’d been so long since the sweet ingredients of love had churned in his gut and been devoured by his heart. Marrying Bridgette was a blemish he’d been trying to paint around, but now that he was certain she was cheating and actively looking to kill him, brushing on a fresh canvas didn’t seem like such a condemn-able idea.
“Give her a call, buddy,” said the driver.
Calvin smeared his forehead. “Don’t know her phone number, believe it or not.”
“Ah, I see. Damn shame, thought you two looked good together. Good times end so fast.”
“You misunderstood. We’re gonna be together for the long run. Trust me.”
The driver adjusted his rear view mirror to catch a glance of Calvin, then sighed and turned away.
Calvin scoffed and shook his head. He tapped his fingers on his knee, then ripped the earbuds out and stuffed the Ipod back into his pocket. He checked the time – five minutes since she’d left. He ran a hand threw his hair, then fluttered his lips with an exhale and crossed his arms.
“Go in there and get her. Doin’ nothing for nobody, just waitin’ here,” said the driver.
“Be patient.”
“Huh?”
Calvin groaned, then whipped out a wad of bills from his pocket. He swatted them in the driver’s hand. “Here,” he said, then stepped out.
He paced toward the club with his head on a swivel. Shea said she’d be right back, but the fact that she hadn’t returned wasn’t a huge call for alarm – chances were, she had some choice words before parting ways with Brody and leaving his dirty dick for good.
Still, Calvin felt uneasy – he was convinced Bridgette and Brody were conspiring to kill him. He could afford to look for Shea, as long as he remained surrounded by others – narcissists murdered, but weren’t the type to ruin their reputations and risk prison time.
Calvin passed by people exiting the club, then made his way through the smokers near the back entrance. He tore the door open and came face to face with Brody.
“H-h-hey, Calvin! I was just looking for you.”
Calvin dropped back a step.
Brody proceeded forward, then swung his arm around Calvin and tugged him away from the club and toward an empty alleyway. “Your wife tells me you’re quite the guitar player-”
“Eat a dick,” said Calvin, throwing Brody’s arm from his shoulders. He turned around. Brody jumped in front of him.
“Easy, guy! … what’s with the constant hard-on for me?”
“Returning yours from my wife.”
The smokers outside raised their eyebrows and moved a little closer.
“What? Nooo,” said Brody. “What kind of monster you think-”
“Kind of monster who kills. I know about the gun.”
“What gun?” said Brody, with a chuckle. “Oh, you mean this?” He reached inside the flap of his jacket, withdrew a handgun, then casually pointed it at Calvin. “I like guns, so what.”
“Put that shit away,” Calvin said.
“Easy guy! you really think I would shoot you?”
“Thought Bridgette might cheat with a douche-bag, was right about that.”
Brody smiled. The smokers watched eagerly.
“This attitude of yours is very disheartening,” said Brody.
“I’m leaving with Shea.”
Brody quit smiling. “What?”
“That’s right. You can have Bridgette, she’s all yours. I want Shea.”
Brody scratched his temple and lowered an eyebrow. “But… why?”
“Because when you acted like a pompous ass in the limo she told me to ignore you, and that’s goddamn refreshing after being told ‘stop being an idiot’ for so fucking long. Because when I got my ass kicked by some clown inside she cared more about me being alright than how stupid she looked being the wife of a loser. Because when I say it’s a perfect moment, she makes it better.”
“But Bridgette’s a ten, and they’re both blonde, so…”
Calvin scoffed. “You’re a joke. Get out of my way,” he said, trying to move past.
Brody grabbed him by the arm, then yanked him close and jammed the gun barrel into his abdomen.
Calvin glared at him. “I’m not as funny as you think,” said Brody.
“Move the gun.”
“I’ll start with the trigger.”
Calvin forced his words through gritted teeth. “What kind of idiot kills in public? Look around, we’re surrounded. They’ve got cameras recording this.”
Brody didn’t flinch.
“Why kill me?” Said Calvin. “Take Bridgette, she’s all yours. Let me and Shea walk.”
“Nobody’s trying to kill you,” said Brody.
“Ditch the gun,” said Calvin.
“Problem’s Shea.”
“You don’t give a shit, you don’t even love her.”
“Not that simple.”
“We’ll see, guy,” said Calvin. He shoved Brody then hurried toward the backdoor.
“H-h-hey, buddy!” yelled Brody. “Think you’ve had a few too many!”
Calvin reached for the door, ripped it open, then lost his feet out from under him. Brody had tackled his lower half. The door fell closed, and Calvin found himself wrestling on the pavement.
“You’re not getting back at that guy in there!” said Brody. “Already caused a scene, now you’re embarrassing both of us!”
The onlookers didn’t intervene. Calvin struggled to peel himself free from Brody, who wouldn’t stop yelling.
“I won’t let you fight him! I can’t, you’re not in your right mind!”
Calvin managed to climb on top of Brody, then swallowed up Brody’s face with his palm. “Shut the fuck up!”
“You’re drunk!” said Brody. “Get off me, you’re drunk!”
Calvin reared back then slugged Brody across the face. Blood fired out from his mouth.
“Money don’t buy fists,” Calvin said, then tried to push himself up.
Brody grabbed Calvin’s white button down, then ripped him close and hissed into his ear.
“I’m not the breadwinner bitch.”
“What?”
“Shea’s loaded. Family inheritance.”
Calvin shook his head. “You’re talking out your ass-”
“Nothing to gain by killing you.”
Calvin’s heart raced. “So Shea is-”
“Dead,” said Brody, before taking a peek at his rolex. “Right about… now.” He laughed in his face, blood sputtering from his lips.
“No,” said Calvin. He shook his head, reached into Brody’s jacket, then yanked out the gun. “No!” He stood up and stormed into the club.
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
CLICK HERE FOR PART 8 – FINALE!
“
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 4
“I had breakfast with Bridgette’s dad this morning.”
Shea quit smiling. Calvin walked around her and pushed through the dancers.
“Calvin, wait!” said Shea.
He split a couple apart and continued on. His eyes darted around the place, but it was hard to identify his wife with the rapid flash of strobe lights. Music pounded through the speakers. Sweaty bodies were everywhere – but where was Bridgette?
Calvin spotted a few of his wife’s work friends. They climbed the stairs. At the front of the pack strode Bridgette and Brody. It looked like they could be holding hands, but other patrons blocked his view.
“Dammit,” he said, standing on his toes.
Someone grabbed Calvin by the wrist.
“Shea, what does that look-”
The moment he whirled around, a fist came flying at his face. Calvin ducked down and narrowly dodged the flying knuckles. It came from a big fella wearing an extra large black shirt, gold chain around his neck.
“What the hell!” said Shea.
Big fella swung again, and socked Calvin in the stomach. Calvin fell back a few steps.
“Stop!” Said Shea.
“Ain’t about you girl,” said big fella.
Calvin lifted his gaze – bouncers were storming over and parting the dancers.
“Look me in the eye you little bitch.” Big fella cracked his knuckles.
“Who are you?” said Calvin.
Big fella grabbed a fistful of Calvin’s shirt.
“Calvin!” said Shea.
Big fella cocked his arm back and delivered another blow into Calvin’s cheek. When he reloaded for another punch, Calvin shot out his arm, grabbed his gold chain, then twisted it until Big Fella began to choke. Big Fella dropped to his knees and dug his fingers between his chain and neck, struggling to breathe.
Big Fella ripped the chain himself, and the pieces landed on the floor.
“You done it,” he said, then stood and slugged Calvin across the face
Calvin landed in a dive on the dance floor, pushing the legs out from those around him. He hurried onto his back, and found Big Fella pouncing to clobber him. Calvin brought his knee into his chest, then kicked Big Fella right in the teeth. Backlash sent big fella bending and twisting over in the opposite direction.
Bouncers tore through the crowd, pointing at Calvin.
Calvin sprung to his feet and grabbed Shea by the hand. He rushed toward the backdoor, using his front wrist to strong-arm through the dancers.
“Why did he attack you?” said Shea.
“You think I know?”
Calvin checked over his shoulder for the bouncers, and got an unexpected glance of Bridgette and Brody. Calvin stopped in his tracks.
Shea ran into him. He turned her around, then held her with his forearm wrapped around her neck.
“What are you-”
Shea followed the point of his finger. Brody leaned over Bridgette from behind the top balcony, with his hands holding the bar in front of her abdomen.
“Oh my God,” said Shea.
The bouncers were making headway through the crowd.
“Let’s go,” said Calvin. He charged toward the back door and yanked Shea along with him. He kicked it open, and the two barged into a crowd of smokers.
“Waddup?” said a smoker.
Calvin noticed the four men encircling him had baggy shirts and chain necklaces.
“Your face looks like pizza got stomped on.” said one of them.”Who you runnin’ from?”
“Nobody. Let me bum one.”
They scoffed. One of them handed him a cigarette.
Calvin lit up, then sucked the black ash into his lungs.
“What just happened?” said Shea. She coughed and looked away.
“You don’t smoke?”
She eyeballed the cigarette. “Not anymore.”
Shea plucked the cigarette from his lips, then jammed it in her own. She treated it like it were a CPR victim, and killed it in no time. Shea coughed, bent over and pressed her hand to her chest.
Calvin pat her on the back and helped her straighten up. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”
“Am I okay? Don’t you think they’re cheating on us?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’re getting cuckolded… my life’s over.” Shea spun around and reached for the door. Calvin grabbed her by the wrist then tugged her back.
“That guy attacked me for no reason.”
“I know, I’m sorry but-”
“Don’t go in there.”
“My husband’s in there.”
“Bridgette can be sinister. She goes out without me, but something changed her mind tonight. I don’t think it’s love.”
“Calvin-”
“Bridgette brought a gun. Maybe Brody’s got it now. Does your husband know how to use one?”
“Oh my God,” she lifted her head and stared back into his eyes.
“What?”
“The knife,” said Shea. She checked him up and down, then pushed her hand into his chest and walked away.
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Too Perfect Marriage – Part 2
If you missed Part 1, click here!
A long black limo pulled up and parked by the curb. The driver walked around the vehicle and opened the door for them.
When Bridgette crouched down to enter, Calvin noticed a handgun tucked away in her purse. He stopped where he stood.
“All aboard the S.S. Jackhammer!” said Brody.
Cheers and laughter followed, along with a few clanks of bottles and glasses.
“Hey, can I talk to you about something?” Calvin said to Bridgette, his wife.
“Uh-oh, he’s getting cold feet, you were right about this guy!” said Brody.
“You’re not even inside, and you already want to argue?” said Bridgette.
The laughter and chatter died down.
“It’s just…” said Calvin. “When did you get… Are we going someplace dangerous?”
For a moment the limo went quiet. Then Brody let out an explosive chuckle, yanked Calvin inside by his tie, and everybody returned to their previous festive mood.
“Grab a drink guy, lighten up. It’s Friday!”
Bridgette laughed. She took the seat right beside Brody. Calvin moved around at a hunch until he squeezed in between two women.
“Name’s Calvin by the way.”
“What’s that?” said Brody.
“My name is Calvin. We haven’t met before. I’m a firefighter.” He scratched under his jaw. “You know, my name isn’t guy.”
Brody raised an eyebrow.
“Ignore him. He’s a party-pooper.” Said Bridgette.
“No, no,” said Brody. “I’m a stand-up guy myself. My name is Brody, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Calvin. Your wife has nothing but wonderful things to say about you.”
“Oh, that’s a surprise,” he said with a laugh. Everybody chuckled along with him.
While the party guests indulged in the jovial mood, Calvin sat with his knees pressed together. He reached into his pocket for his phone, and started to text Bridgette.
When did you buy a gun?
“Baby, hold this for me!” Bridgette tossed her phone through the air.
Calvin made a jerky move to catch it. He wanted to ask her out loud, but her eyes darted to every spot he wasn’t.
Calvin shook his head, then slipped Bridgette’s phone into his other pocket. When he did, he inadvertently elbow-jabbed the breast beside him. Calvin instantly crossed his arms close to his chest, then sighed, shut his eyes, and let his head droop backward.
“I’m here, in my mold,” he muttered to himself.
“But I’m a million different people, from one day to the next.”
Calvin’s eyes shot open. The woman who he’d just bumped into had sung the rest of the verse.
“Bittersweet symphony?” said Calvin.
“I know, don’t you hate that song? Slaves to money then we die? Sorry, but money equals happiness.”
Calvin raised his eyebrows and grinned politely.
“That was a joke… kind of a bad one. Not sure where the laugh goes. The verve? Please. I love that song.” She mumble-sang the melody and bobbed her head.
Nothing about her screamed super-model. Especially not the freckles spotting both her dimpled cheeks. But she was… simple. And simple was better than ideal. A lot better.
“Another bottle,” Shea!” said Brody.
The woman beside Calvin nodded, then reached into a cooler and took out some Pinot Noir.
“Throw it,” said Brody.
“Well I don’t want to break-”
“Throw it, throw it, throw it!” began Brody, slapping his hands to his thighs. The rest of the party followed his lead, while Calvin had his eyes on Shea. She blinked rapidly, shook her head, then chucked it like it were a dead rat over to Brody. He and Bridgette tried to grab it at the same time, and in their haste they knocked the bottle straight to the floor, where it shattered. Wine spilled over Brody’s slacks and Bridgette’s ankles. The cheer halted.
“Dammit Shea,” said Brody. He fanned out his wet hands.
“Shit, I knew I shouldn’t have thrown it. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, don’t you worry doll. Brody bought more than enough,” said Bridgette. She flashed a picture-perfect smile.
Calvin twisted his lips, then pressed out the creases in his slacks.
“I know, I’m clumsy. Here, I’ll pass you another,” said Shea.
She retrieved a new bottle from the cooler. Brody crouched low then made ‘chuga-chuga’ sound effects as if he were a train, and ‘chugged’ over to her.
“Hey, here’s an idea? Why don’t you just hand it to me?” He chuckled loud, then snagged the bottle from Shea. “You’re the best,” he said, then returned back to his seat beside Bridgette. He popped open the bottle, then poured those around him a glass. He met eyes with Calvin, who sat with his arms crossed.
“Would you like a glass?”
Calvin scratched under his jaw. “This is your wife, right?”
Brody glanced at her, then tugged his lip corners up with his cheeks. “How truly awful of me… I’ve been so excited to have fun tonight, formal introductions must have slipped my mind. Calvin, you’re sitting next to my wife, Shea.”
Calvin nodded with his tongue pushed into his teeth.
“Hi,” said Shea. She held out her hand, but Calvin’s eyes were trained on Brody.
“I’m not used to these events, so help me understand… why am I sitting next to your wife, while you’re sitting by mine?”
Bridgette glared at Calvin. Brody raised his eyebrows. The other party guests quietly sipped their drinks.
Brody opened his mouth, but Bridgette grabbed hold of his wrist.
“You don’t have to answer that,” she said. “Calvin… babe? This an adult event. Try to act like one.”
“It’s ok, B-ridge,” said Brody, returning Bridgette’s hand to her lap. “Now Calvin, it’s my fault for not giving you the four-one-one, but typically at events like this, you actually don’t use any seating charts. Had I known you would have felt more comfortable, I would have been happy to draw one up for you.”
Many of the party guests bit their lips. A few chuckles escaped.
“B-ridge?” said Calvin. “What’s that, your pet name for my wife?”
Bridgette’s palm smacked against her forehead. Brody wore a tight-lipped smile.
“Why don’t you tone it down a notch, huh guy? You didn’t pay for this limo. You don’t know anybody here. You wouldn’t even be here if weren’t for B-ridge. So take a drink, and enjoy the good vibes.”
Calvin mirrored Brody’s tight-lipped grin. “Sounds radical.”
Shea rubbed Calvin’s kneecap, then whispered in his ear. “Just ignore him.”
Calvin turned and they met eyes.
Shea darted her hand back, shook her head, then scratched behind her ear. She turned to Brody and smiled. “I’d like a drink!”
Brody’s eyes fidgeted between her and Calvin. “…sure.”
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Donald and Thurma – Part 4 – Finale
“I think I can,” he said to himself, chugging along the sidewalk tracks. “I think I can.”
Donald walked with both fists clenched. Amanda and Thurma strolled a short ways ahead, Thurma with her head down.
He wasn’t angry, he was determined – and approaching a girl who was more than likely to reject him was no easy task for Donald.
“Hey,” he called out.
The two girls turned around. Amanda smirked, and crossed her arms. Thurma stilted like a wooden statue.
“Let me guess,” said Amanda. “You found something and were wondering if it belongs to Thurma. Is that your excuse for talking to her? Because that’s not exactly original.”
“No,” said Donald. “I want to talk to her as myself.”
“Why?” said Amanda, narrowing her eyes. “Been acting like somebody else?”
Donald stared straight at Thurma. “Have you?”
Silence.
“Erm, I’ll leave you two alone,” said Amanda, before patting her friend on the shoulder and walking on ahead.
“What are you talking about?” Thurma said to him.
“This shit.” Donald pointed back to the bar. “You want some dipshit frat-boy, let me know and I’ll leave right now.”
“I don’t want that.”
“I’m a dork. My name’s Donald by the way.”
“Mine’s Thurma.”
“You’re one too.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Thurma. She twisted her lip, then sighed and lowered her gaze to his feet. “But maybe I’m not the bitch who you met, either.”
“Good.”
She looked back up. “Maybe I am just a basic bitch. Maybe if you knew the real me, you wouldn’t have come running to talk to me.”
“I like basic bitches. I’m a basic dude.”
Thurma chuckled, then hid her teeth behind her hand. “So what do you want?”
“Huh?”
“What are you after?” She said, then set her hands on her hips. “Is it a number, to brag to your friend about? Because if you really think you’re going to sleep with me tonight-”
“I came to talk with you. That’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because when I look at you I see a part of me, the part that I like.”
“What part’s that?”
Donald scratched the back of his head, then looked away. “I like good morning texts. I like snuggling. I like having to tell a girl she doesn’t have to worry about what’s-her-name, no matter how paranoid she’s being, or clingy she becomes.”
“I’m not following you.”
Donald shook his head, then returned his gaze to Thurma. He creased his brow when he noticed the mark on her chin, then leaned forward to get a better look at it.
“Stop!” she said, then covered the mark with her hand. “That’s rude.”
Donald grabbed her wrist and forced it away, then set his thumb on her chin. “I like the scar you try to hind behind your makeup.”
Thurma’s exhale came heavy. “Oh…”
“The stuff that puts other guys off, that’s the stuff that I like. You could say that’s from low-confidence, but I don’t think it is. I think it’s a preference.”
“Ok.”
“There’s no line I can say to make you want me, there’s no maneuver I can use that will get you to like me back.”
Thurma’s eyes fidgeted in Donald’s.
“I’m just saying that I’d like to get to know you. If that friend zones me, then fine-”
“You said it.”
“What?”
“About fifteen seconds ago. You said the line that won me.”
“Huh?”
“Kiss me dork.”
Donald moved in with a smirk, then gave Thurma a light peck on the cheek.
Thurma shook her head, then scolded him with a finger wag. “I swear to God, if that’s what you think it means to kiss a girl don’t ever-”
Donald slid his hand through her hair, raking her brunnette locks up in his fingers until he had his hand wrapped around the back of her head. He advanced until her forearm fell flat against his chest, then dug his lips into hers. Thurma’s eyes dropped closed and the phone she had been holding unraveled from her fingers and plummeted until it cracked against the sidewalk. She immediately pressed her newly-freed hand against the side of his face.
An obnoxious series of honks was followed by a loud holler:
“Fuck her already, bro!” Yelled Freddy.
Donald finally took a step back.
“Number,” said Thurma.
“I think your phone broke.”
“Ok.”
Donald smiled, then wrote his down on a wrinkled napkin he’d stored in his pocket. “Nice meeting you,” he said, then turned around and headed towards Freddy’s escalade. Once he took his seat Freddy sped away.
“You better get a tit-pit,” said Freddy.
Donald grinned and looked at him.
“What?” said Freddy.
“I’m the man,” said Donald.
“You’re a man, not sure if you’re the man.”
“No,” said Donald, before turning the bass up on Freddy’s sound system. “I’m the man.”
The End!
Hope you enjoyed.
- Thomas M. Watt
Donald and Thurma – Part 3
If you haven’t read part 1, start here.
If you haven’t read part 2, start here.
“Waddup bitches, see you’ve met my friend. Huge cock, case you were wondering. Name’s Freddy,” said Freddy, as he extended his hand out for the girls to shake.
Donald took Freddy’s hand, then yanked him along with him, away from the two girls. “Time to leave.”
“Strip club?” said Freddy.
The pair passed through the doorway, hurried by the smoke crowds, and headed toward the parking lot.
“She’s not feeling it. I don’t want to be here, this isn’t me,” said Donald.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Freddy. He stopped on the sidewalk. “If you want to leave to go somewhere else, that’s one thing, but if you wanna book it ’cause of some chick-”
“I know, I get it, that makes me a pussy.”
“Jeeze, Donald,” said Freddy. He looked his buddy in the eye. “I wasn’t gonna call you that, you know.”
“Ok.”
“Super pussy. That was it.” Freddy’s eyes bulged, and he pointed back toward the bar. “Look!”
Donald whirled around. The two girls were approaching, only Thurma walked stilted, like Amanda may have had a gun to her back.
“Bye I guess,” Thurma said to Donald, as they passed.
Donald waved back. “Nice meeting you,” he muttered after they were out of earshot.
“Is your dick for sale cause that shits in demand these days,” said Freddy.
“What are you talking about?”
“You leave. She leaves. She comes your way, wishes you a goodnight, checks out your package. What do you do? You rotate your hand like the slow-mix setting of a god-damned cake mixer.”
“She checked out my package?”
“Winked at it.”
Donald gulped, lightly patted his hair, then slid his hand along his button-down to smooth out the creases. He then shook his head and turned to Freddy.
“I’m only going over there if you’re one-hundred percent sure she’s interested.”
“Bro,” started Freddy. “Interests is for loaners. Girl is invested. You know who invests?”
“Stock-brokers?”
“Heart breakers.”
“What?”
“Shit rhymes, bro,” said Freddy. “Called a metaphorical simile.”
“Huh?”
Freddy kicked Donald in the ass, leading him to stumble off in the direction of Amanda and Thurma.
“Go get her heart-breaker,” said Freddy.
Donald caught himself then continued to follow his feet.”I think I can,” He said to himself. A new flurry of visuals played through his mind, the type he wasn’t accustomed to – confident images. He stopped thinking of himself as an inconvenience to the world around him, and began to entertain the possibility that he actually could make a girl happy, and maybe Thurma would be the one for him.
“I think I can,” he said to himself, chugging along the sidewalk tracks. “I think I can.”
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Donald and Thurma – Part 1
Donald sat in the passenger seat of Freddy’s Escalade, still glaring at the same text:
I just think you and I are better off as friends.
He shook his head, then stared out the window.
“I’m telling you bro,” said Freddy. “You took too long to make your move. That’s where you messed up.”
“It shouldn’t be like that,” said Donald.
“Well it is like that! Girls like dudes who are aggressive. Stop pussy-footing around, I want you to be a man tonight.”
Donald scoffed.
“C’mon dude,” said Freddy. “This bar’s going to have a ton of hot chicks tonight. You’re gonna get yours, and you’re going to feel a lot better.”
“I could give two shits about getting laid,” said Donald.
“And that’s your problem.”
“Why?”
“She stuck you in the friend zone, didn’t she?”
“So?”
Freddy turned to Donald and raised his eyebrows. “What is the one thing that separates friends from lovers?”
Donald gazed at the text again, then sighed.
“You can’t be afraid to hurt their feelings. There’s a reason girls always fall for assholes.”
Donald stared out the passenger window for a bit.
“You hearin’ me bro?” said Freddy.
Donald stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Ok. Tonight we do it your way.”
- * *
Thurma and her friend Amanda walked to the bar together. It was only a few blocks from their apartment.
“I’m telling you!” said Amanda. “Greg walked all over you because you let him. You have to stop being so nice to these assholes.”
“I never said he was an asshole,” said Thurma.
“All guys are assholes.”
Thurma laughed.
Amanda playfully smacked her arm. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not. At least, that’s the way you have to approach the game.”
“What game?”
“Love! It’s a game, and if you haven’t figured that out by now than I’m afraid even I can’t help you.”
“Why can’t I just be myself and find someone who likes me for who I am?”
“Because that doesn’t exist. Guys like bitches and hoes. Which one are you?”
Thurma cracked a chuckle. “Neither, jeeze!”
“Well I’m a bitch.
“Not to me,” said Thurma.
“To guys I am. And you know what?”
“What?” said Thurma.
Amanda’s phone beeped. She held it out for Thurma to see, then smiled at her. “Oh, what’s this? Another ‘I’m sorry’ text? God, I swear I must have ignored a hundred of these already.”
“That’s mean.”
“All is fair in love and war Thurma.”
“So what are you telling me? I should just start acting like a bitch to every guy I talk to?”
“If you want them to respect you, than yeah.”
Thurma shook her head.
“One night. Just try it out! See how it feels.”
They reached the bar, and Thurma took hold of the entry door when Amanda grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her back.
“What?” said Thurma.
“I want you to promise me. One night.”
“Be a bitch?” said Thurma.
Amanda grinned. “Demand respect.”
“By being a bitch?”
Amanda looked off to the side, then shrugged.
Thurma rolled her eyes. “Alright. For one night.”
“That’s the spirit!”
She turned around and reached for the door handle again, but this time she met hands with Donald, who grabbed it at the exact same time.
“Oh,” said Donald. “Sorry.”
Thurma laughed. “It’s okay.”
“HEY! Let’s move it along here!” said Freddy, who came up quick behind Donald.
“Ya, please do,” said Amanda, before pulling Thurma away from them.
Donald entered the bar with Freddy, and shortly after Thurma and Amanda followed behind.
To be continued…
- Thomas M. Watt
Various thoughts that fit Together in my Untamed Mind
Pretty girl, sitting there, gazing wide, looking fair.
I know you see it, I do too, the art from God, the voice of truth.
The problem is, you know it’s true, we’ve come from heaven with work to do.
I know my calling, know it fine, called to live my life divine.
By God who judges, He who speaks, the One who whispers my heart to sleep.
I know you want it, want it bad, knowledge of this so makes me sad.
For it’s not quite me of which you want, nor my heart, nor my cock.
But you want the dwelling bruise, the heart that aches, the lasting blues.
I’ll say it simply for some ears – the truth hurts me, the truth you fear.
For when she longs and so “Wants you,” all she wants is the pursuit.
Give her mystery, give her myth, a taste of wrong, a hint of bliss.
Her one true goal is to have you chained, but once she does, you’ve lost the game.
– Thomas M. Watt
Thomas M. Watt 