Poop Shute

I've recently taken up a position as a writer. Don't ask too much about it yet, I'm not comfortable talking about it until the project gets off the ground. More about that in weeks to come.

I had remembered some things I had written in years past that I thought might be useful for this project, so I started digging through my old hard drives in search of them. I came across a WEALTH of fiction. I didn't remember how prolific a writer I used to be. Some of it's good, some of it's not, but I used to do it a LOT more than I have been.

Here's my favorite tidbit from the vault. A bit of weirdness I can't remember when I wrote. Enjoy

Charlie was a pervert. A dirty, rotten, nasty pervert. And he felt like everyone knew it. Every stranger he made eye-contact with on the street knew it. Every pimple-faced teenage bagboy at the grocery store knew it. And more importantly, Charlie knew it.

Disgusted with himself, he told Twinkle356 he had to go. Here he was instant messaging with a fifteen year-old... or so she claimed to be. I mean Charlie was thirty-four for Christ-sake! This girl’s talking about “let’s cyber” and sh*t.

"What the hell?" He typed to her. "I was already discovering masturbation around the time you were born!"

"Besides, you're underage. Isn’t that still illegal?" He added, almost as an after thought, but then he realized it made it look like he was actually considering it, and wished he could take it back.

"I don’t know, is it?" She asked.

Was it? Charlie didn’t know either.

"Look, you could be some 40-year-old fat guy that does this for kicks, I don’t know." He replied.

"So could you, but I don’t care. It’s just fantasy anyway."

"……….." was all he could muster. He jumped up, grabbed his coat and was gone.

This was just creepy. Wasn’t it? Yes, it definitely was. Right? AARRRGGHH! Charlie thought there had to be women… closer to his age that would be interested in him. He’s by no means an ugly man, but personality does count for a lot, and Charlie was almost completely socially inept. With that thought fresh on his mind he ducked into the corner pub to try to meet somebody.

He sat at the bar and ordered a Guiness. His usual. He looked up to see what they were watching on the bar tv. Oh God, he thought. Once Upon a Time In Mexico. The needless and ridiculous third “El Mariachi” movie. Charlie had been forced to sit through this piece of trash. As a film critic one finds one has to watch a lot of trash, but the plus side is the newspaper not only buys the ticket, but pays him on top of it. It’s hard to complain with a sweet setup like that, but Charlie found a way.

Just as he watched the lame scene where Johnny Depp’s eyes get yanked out, an elbow brushed up against his. A fairly attractive girl (about his age, thank god) sat down next to him, and gave him a warm smile.

“Hello.” She said.

“Hi.” Charlie blushed, and that was that. Neither of them had anything to say. Charlie went back watching the terrible movie, and the woman seemed content to follow suit. Oh, here it comes; Johnny Depps sunglasses fall off…. Now! Worst fx make-up ever. Charlie was remembering his scathing review when he was brought out of his reverie by the woman’s laughter.

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “That is so sad. I mean, I could’ve done better than that.’ She was referring to the make-up.

Charlie smiled at her. “Me too.”

“No, I mean I’ve done professional make-up before.”

Charlie’s smile broadened. “Me too.”

“Really? Well, did you see that production of Macbeth last month over at the community college? I did some work on that. They had me working on costumes, which is really not my forte…” Charlie couldn’t believe someone so small could talk so long without taking a breath. Her lungs had to account for most of her torso. She talked about how they had her make stuff out of leather, but the budget was too small for leather, so she had to get pleather (which she doesn’t think looks anywhere near the same, even from the stage). They had her gluing beads on, and who glues beads on, right? “So, I went down to that bead shop just down the street and bought some thread and some real beads and sewed them on, and they were just blown away…” Charlie smiled and nodded until he thought his face would crack and his head would just roll off his shoulders out the door. It would be a welcome change from this.

“…oh, and the set was amazing. The main entryway was a skull and they came through the mouth, and there was a bridge that looked like a spine, and…” As soon as she stopped for more than a second he was going to make his escape to the bathroom. He waited patiently for his chance to flee without being impolite. We’ve all done it. Some weirdo is talking your ear off at the bar, so you go to the bathroom. When you come out, you go to another corner of the bar, and avoid them. It’s like a social reset button. Now you’re strangers again.

Suddenly and abruptly she finished. She was just done. Without any kind of finality. No concluding statement of any kind. Nothing like "Overall, it was great learning experience." Not even the less effective "...so that was cool." She just stopped

This is where Charlie’s human observation took over. Any actor or writer knows what that means. You just begin to absorb the people around you as fodder for characters rather than connect with them as real people. Charlie was always torn between considering it a job-skill and a self-defense mechanism.

She finished talking and then looked at him as if it's his turn to talk on and on for a while. Charlie’s first thought is; if you want to know something, ask me. I'm not just going to yack on and on to hear myself talk. You want to converse with me, then converse with me.

He gave her a second to make an attempt, but it was clear she had no idea what to do next. So, Charlie went back to watching the movie. Or rather, he pretended to, but kept a peripheral focus on her. A sort of social experiment, with her as test group. After a few minutes of silence that were clearly awkward for her, she got up to leave. She announced that she had a group of friends getting together tonight down the street, and she didn't really know many people here. As if she had to have a reason to leave their interaction. And with that she was gone.

Charlie couldn't help but feel a little bad for her. She had made an effort. Albeit, a bad one, but still, Charlie supposed his little social experiment probably alienated her, but, he didn't feel bad for too long. If she really wanted to have a conversation with him she could've tried a little harder to include him. Or tried at all, in fact.

How many successful conversations with strangers have any of you had that began with one party rambling on and on about themselves, and then asking nothing of the other? It leaves the second party pretty disinterested, doesn't it? It might have been exactly that disinterest that provoked Charlie to mess with her head to see what she'd do.

Now you see why Charlie is alone.