Chapter 1: Older
“I
like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.” – Tom Waite
Todd lay in bed, watching the clock tick away
each minute in its sickly green digital glow. 5:57 am. He’d been staring at the
clock since two that morning. Reaching over, he flicked off the alarm and sat
up.
“You should do something about this.” Shmee
hummed from his spot on the dresser. “Insomnia is sign of mental illness, and
I’m sure you don’t want to go back to the Defective Head-meats Institute. There
are mother’s little helpers in the medicine chest…”
Todd didn’t respond and pointedly kept from
looking at the grinning bear. He stared at the calendar, staring hard at the
tiny note scrawled at the bottom of today’s date box. It was that day
again. Every year since he was little, Todd would put a reminder on every new
calendar he got in the childish hope that maybe someone else would remember. No
one ever did, and after leaving the Institute it just didn’t matter. But he
kept on putting a remainder for that day even though it was stupid to
look forward to it.
Getting up, Todd wandered over to the
closet and blindly grabbed for some clothes. Today looked like another frayed
jeans and trashy black shirt day again. He yanked them on quickly before
finally turning to the dresser.
“Are we going to say anything to me this
morning, Squee? Or are you going to continue this foolishness?”
“You’re not real, Shmee” muttered Todd,
digging for socks. “You only exist in my head. I made up to keep myself
company, an imaginary friend who is the personification of my suppressed
desires to lash out against others. There is no you, there is only me.”
The teddy bear laughed. “In a way, you are
right Squee. I am indeed the product of your mind, birth by your alienation and
feed by the darkness within your heart. I protect you from the evil, soaking up
all those horrible, terrible feelings to save you from the monsters… Yet there
is so much more! Perhaps the therapists have told you wrong, Squee. Maybe there
is no you, only me.”
“I’m not in the mood for this right now.”
Todd grumbled, rutting around deeper in the drawer until he finally found the
last pack of cigarettes. He shook it, frowning. “Crap. It’s almost empty.”
“I don’t understand why you bother hiding
them. It’s not like your parents give a damn. You could have a fucking
crackpipe in one hand, a needle in your arm and they’d both wish you would
O.D.”
Todd glared at the bear. “I know. They
don’t care, but Johnny does.”
“Ah yes… Johnny.” He cringed at the vile
chuckle of Shmee’s voice. “Johnny, the scary neighbor guy. The man who
traumatized you night after night after night with those horrific, morbid
bedtime stories. He hasn’t been around for months, much to our relief, and yet
you’re worried about him finding out you smoke!”
“Okay. The last thing I need today is to
listen to fictional voices in my head bitch at me. So please, be quiet.”
There was a sullen silence. Todd smirked in
victory and grabbed his backpack. Beyond the door of his father’s office, he
could faintly hear snoring and knew better than to wake dad up to see if he
remembered it was that day. The stairs creaked under foot, slightly
muffled by the hypnotic buzz of infomercial hosts describing the latest new
gizmo you could get for just 500 monthly payments of $99.99! In the dead glow
of the television, Todd made out his mother slumped over the couch with an
arrangement of medicine bottles and multicolored pills scattered over the
coffee table. Creeping around, he picked up his mother’s purse and took out a
wrinkled ten-dollar bill.
“Excuse me, young man.” Todd froze, staring
at his mother staring mildly at him over the couch’s back. “Who are you? And
why do have my purse? Are you a burglar?”
“No. I’m Todd. You’re son,” he added dully.
Maybe this year…
“I have kids?” his mother purred in dreamy
surprise.
Todd slumped, letting out a miserable sigh.
“Just me, mom. Just me. Uh, do you mind if I borrow some money? I’m out of
cigarettes and there’s been nothing to eat in the house since last weekend.”
“Oh! Okay.” Todd’s mother staggered over to
him and pressed a massive wad of bills into his hand. She giggled girlishly.
“It’s not much, I think… Mommy doesn’t really need anything for the store,
so…uh, Tom? Have a nice day at kindergarten.”
“I’m Todd, mom. And I’m in the ninth grade
now.”
But she wasn’t listening anymore. Todd’s
mother had stumbled back to the couch and fell back into her stoner’s trance.
“Thanks…” he sighed to nobody, stuffing the
money into his pocket uncounted as he left the house. Todd unchained his bike
from the mailbox and wheeled it to the sidewalk. It wasn’t that he was afraid
his bike would be stolen, since it was ‘so last month, duce’ and patched
up with duct-tape and rust. He kept it locked up because lately Pepito, in his
ongoing campaign to be Todd’s best friend, had taken it upon him demonic self
to give Todd a lift to school in his car. Todd didn’t dare think about how
fifteen year-old could have gotten a license without ever once taking Driver’s
Ed. In a choice between dodging the early morning delivery trucks or risking
life, sanity, and virtue riding with the Antichrist, Todd decided that
potentially becoming road-pizza was okay by him.
Pushing his way up the street, Todd paused
a moment to stare at #777. The yard was still a barren stretch of dirt with a
few clots of bone-dry grass sticking up here and there. ‘Stay off yard. It’s
rude to walk on the dead,” read the choppy scrawl across a wooden sign by the
stained front walk. Todd doubted the scary neighbor guy was joking about that,
considering all the times he’d looked out the window at night and seen Johnny
dumping various mangled bits into holes.
Even now, he expected to hear the screams
of Johnny’s latest victims, but there hadn’t been any active in the house since
Todd had seen his neighbor lugging an armful of books inside. By chance, not
that Todd wanted to know or anything, he’d picked up a book Johnny had
dropped and read the title.
“Mindfulness in Plain English, by
Bhante Henepola Gunaratana? Why all this stuff on Buddhism?” Todd remembered
mumbling aloud as he glanced at the back cover before Johnny snapped around and
snatched the book away.
“Because I want to achieve Nirvana, the
extinction of all want, all emotion, and all suffering,” rasped Johnny, eyes
glinting madly. “It’s deathlessness, which I have but can’t enjoy because I
still feel, Squee! Months of soul-searching and traveling around trying
to find meaning to my existence and I was getting nowhere! Then it dawned on
me. The Library! Surely I could find answers there! So I’ve spent the last five
days going back and forth, reading every last book on philosophy and religion
and all that other existentialist ‘meaning of life’ bullshit trying to figure
out why I’m me. And all I got out of it were fucking paper cuts! Paper cuts,
Squee!” He waved his bandaged fingers under Todd’s nose. “And then I found it!
In the stupid EyeWitless: Chinese Religion! BUDDHISM! FUCKING NIRVANA! The core
goal is to achieve enlightenment that the emotions and desires are meaningless
and only make us suffer! To get there, you have to get over the false idea of
self, which causes among other things craving, consciousness, birth, death,
greed, hate, delusion, ignorance… All the asshole crap that the media
crackheads tell us is a good thing! It’s FREEDOM, Squee! It’s found out the
abso-fucking-lute truth! And, after I’m find out how that weirdly jolly Asian
fat man did it, I’ll get free of all my crazy!”
Todd smiled weakly. “That’s…that’s good to
hear, Johnny. Hope that works out for you.”
Grinning psychotically, Johnny bounded into
his house gibbering about unbecoming himself.
And now, seven months later, Todd still hadn’t
seen Johnny leave the house. Maybe his neighbor really had achieved Nirvana and
was peacefully enjoying his enlightenment in seclusion. Then again, this was Johnny…
He probably snapped and went off to
“What if the monster’s
escaped again, Squee?” murmured Shmee, smiling darkly from over Todd’s
shoulder.
That shook Todd from his musing. “I thought
I left you at home.”
“You need me.” The bear growled nicely.
“Especially if Johnny’s little problem had gotten loose. I suppose you remember
what happened last time…”
“Yes. But Tess is doing okay now.” He
paused, getting on his bike. “Well, at least she’s not huddled up in the closet
gibbering anymore…”
The bear just laughed then lapsed into
silence.
By the time Mister Zimmerfield the Janitor
unlocked the doors, Todd had smoked two packs of Red Apples and finished
another story. He sat on the ‘P.S. 2112’ sign, watching his classmates wander
toward the high school with their looks of teen angst and overpriced
Goth-punk-emo wardrobes bought from the trendiest stores in the mall. The
pretty hate parade wheeled its way past him without so much as a glance or
care. It all made Todd wonder why he didn’t just drop out and home school
himself.
At five till, a menacing black ’69 Camaro
came roaring up the street and squealed to a nerve-shattering stop in front of
the school. Todd cringed a little when Pepito got out and made straight for
him.
“Where have you been, Squee?” he began,
looking a bit hurt. “You could at least wait on me for once.”
“I…uh, had some errands to run.”
The Anti-Christ glared. “You run errands at
six in the morning?”
Todd nodded stupidly, then squeaked in
terror as Pepito dragged him into school. It must’ve been amusing for their
classmates to see the ungodly spawn of Satan easily cow Todd who had the
misfortune of being not only the skinniest kid in school but also the tallest.
The humor factor went up even more because Pepito barely came up to Todd’s
chest…in heels. Six-inch combat boot heels, to be precise. And the whole time,
Pepito grumbled and ranted about courtesy and the value of friendship and why
did the hallways always smell like rancid cheese?
“Do you have any idea how long I waited on
you this morning?” snapped the Antichrist, coming to a halt in front of locker
666. He let go of Squee and, wrenching open the locker, started grabbing his
books. “Nearly two hours, Squee! Two fucking hours that could’ve been spent
with Ms. Honey improving both our GPAs, if you get my drift. I was worried
shitless about you, thinking you’d gotten some fucked plague or some shit! And
when I went in to make sure those soulless pigs hadn’t left you to die in a
corner of the basement…” Pepito turned to Todd, fixing him with a uniquely
hellish glare. “Squee, if I ever have to deal with that snide
rat-bastard of a mortal which sired you again, I’m going to…”
“Don’t you hurt my dad!” Todd yelped. “I’m
sure he wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s just that he has to work all the time
because I wasn’t crazy enough to stay forever in that awful mental institution.
I guess it’s my fault that dad’s cranky all the time and mom’s always taking
pills…”
Pepito stared at him, watching Todd wring
the straps of his backpack in his hands. “Squee, I hate to say this since
you’re my friend and it’s just not my place to, but your dad’s going to hell.
And his miserable existence was never your fault because the man was an
apathetic little shit decades before he got your wretched mother knocked up.
And the only reason they’ve stayed married this long is because of that fucking
Catholic dogma that it’s a sin to get divorced.”
“I’m Catholic?” muttered Todd, trying to
grasp the concept. All his life, he could never recall a single moment when his
family had shown any sign of religious leanings though he did remember being
terrified of penguins since he was a baby. Slowly, he repeated, “I’m Catholic?”
“Yes. You are.” With a comforting pat on
the shoulder, Pepito sighed, “You have my condolences, Squee.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” asked a friendly
little voice at Todd’s elbow. He looked down at the equally friendly little
caramelly face smiling up at him. “Hi, my name’s Rufus Sloane. Nice to met you,
Squee.”
“It’s Todd, actually. Todd Casil.” He shook
the hand Rufus offered, unaware of the utter horror and rage flashing across
Pepito’s face. “It’s nice to met you too, I guess.” He paused awkwardly, then
said, “I’m not really good at this sort of thing. People usually either forget
I exist or they’re all sick evil people or are trying to do horrible things to
me…”
“I dunno why.” Rufus replied. “You seem
like a really nice person. A bit geeky and weird, but that’s nothing to be
ashamed of. My whole family’s kind weird, especially Dad with His warped sense
of humor... I mean, just look at the platypus! Now if that’s not a sign He’s
gets the joke, I don’t know what is. By the way, who’s your friend with the
mohawk and horns?”
“Oh, that’s Pepito. He’s my stalk—er…my
next door neighbor. He’s the Antichrist.”
“Well, it’s nice to finally met you.” Rufus
chirped, waving sweetly.
Surging forward, Pepito grabbed Todd by the
neck and put him a headlock. “Stay away from him, filthy son of light! This
mortal belongs to me! You shall not draft him into the army of God with false
hopes of friendship and holy goodness! YOUR JEDI MIND TRICKS WILL NOT WORK
HERE!”
“Umm…maybe you should loosen you grip
there. He’s turning blue.”
“Eh? Oh crap.” Releasing his grip, Pepito
gave his half-strangled friend a weak smile. “Sorry about that.”
Todd was too busy gulping sweet, delicious,
life-sustaining air to notice the apology. Reaching down, Rufus helped Pepito
get him to his feet.
“You okay?” asked both Pepito and Rufus in
unison.
Todd nodded lamely, pulling away from them.
“Well, you look like you’ll live. Sorry to
run, but I’ve gotta get my homeroom assignment and schedule. See you guys
later,” hummed Rufus, strolling off down the hall.
“So Rufus’ is new here. Well, that’s
explains a lot. Seems nice,” Todd murmured, walking toward his locker.
“Nice? NICE!” rasped Pepito
as he jogged alongside him. “Do you know who the fuck he is?”
“She.” Todd corrected, wrestling with the
bolt on his rusty locker door. “Rufus is a girl. I thought you of all people
would’ve noticed the huge boobs. ”
“Wait. The Second Coming’s a girl?”
Todd shot him a nasty look. “And why not? I
mean it’s a bit stupid to think that God’s an asshole chauvinist pig. I mean,
for all we know, God could be a She. Besides, who says Rufus is the Second
Coming? Maybe she’s just a nice person. Why does it have to be that the only
people that like me always have to end up being psychos or the spawn of demons?
Can’t you just accept the fact that for once a normal, decent person finally
accepts me as a fellow human being!”
“You naiveté is showing again, my friend.”
Pepito answered with a snarl. “Surely you did catch that she talked about her
Father with a capital “F”. And, if I’m not mistaken, she was quick to
acknowledge me as Antichrist.”
“You mean the horns and the fact ‘666’ ends
up in every number sequence assigned to you wasn’t a give-away? Maybe her
family’s religious.”
Pepito laughed. “Well, I suppose being the
great, great, great, great, great, GREAT grand-niece of Jesus-fucking-Christ
does make for a very religious upbringing indeed.”
Slamming his locker shut, Todd rounded on
him. “You know what? I honestly don’t feel like dealing with your militant
‘join the Dark side’ bullshit right now. So fuck off.”
He stormed off, leaving Pepito standing
there blank faced in shock. Then Shmee decided to speak up.
“That was unexpectedly brutal, my boy,”
hummed the bear. “Usually, your too scared of being turned into a revolting
pile of slug parts to even think of telling him off. I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t be.” Todd mumbled. “There’s nothing
for me to be proud of.”
“You’re simply upset that nobody remembers
it’s your birthday.”
Pulling Shmee out, Todd screamed “SHUT THE
FUCK UP ABOUT MY BIRTHDAY, YOU LINTY BASTARD!”
Everyone stopped their inane pre-class
chattering to stare at the crazy boy shaking a ratty teddy bear. Todd felt
blood flushing his rather sickly pale face as he quietly slinked to his desk in
the very back of the room and frantically wished that he could become invisible
right now.
“Today’s your birthday?” Pepito asked,
settling into the desk in front of Todd’s.
Todd put his arms over his head and tried
burrowing into the plywood with his nose.
“Squee…”
“So what?” he muttered, not looking up at
the devilish face looking at him. “ Why should I care that it’s my birthday?
It’s not like anyone else gives a shit…”
“I do.”
Todd glared at Pepito. “Gee, thanks. It
makes me feel so much better knowing that Satan’s crotch-drippings cares that
I’m fifteen. Makes today really fucking special for me.”
The smack resounded through the classroom.
“Sorry, but it was for your own good,”
apologized the Antichrist, helping Todd back into his seat. “These mood swings
are starting to get on my nerves.”
“What mood swings? I don’t have mood
swings.” Todd sniffed, rubbing the bruised side of his head.
“There! You’re doing it right now!” Pepito
pointed a finger at him. “One minute, you’re the Old Squee, all scared and
squeaky and cute and innocent…and then, BAM! You go off on a psychotic rant!
I’ve never seen you get so malicious, so sadistic, so evil… It’s fucking
disturbing. Yet evil does look good on you Squee. Really good…”
Looking away from that demonic leer, Todd
happened to see that the new kid Rufus had walked in and was heading for the empty
desk to his right. His relieved smile betrayed him.
“What are you grinning…”
“Hellos again!” Rufus chirped, setting down
with that pleasant permagrin on her face. “Seems like we’ve got homeroom
together. Funny coincidence, huh?”
“Damn you, damn you, damn you…” was
all Pepito growled before turning away.
Todd only laughed and quickly started
chatting with Rufus. By the end of homeroom, they were acting like old buddies
(much to the disgust of a certain unholy half-fiend). It turned out that not
only did Rufus have the same class schedule as Todd, but was also Catholic and
actually turned out to be one of those rare people who actually was a decent
human being. The only fault he could find in her was the fact that she kept
trying to get Pepito do more than curse her attempts at friendliness, but then
again it was awfully good of her to try. He spent whole day talking with Rufus
about anything and everything, absolutely enraptured by the idea that there was
good in the world after all.
When the last bell rang, Todd was happy to
exchange numbers with Rufus before breaking away from her to find his bike and
go home. He didn’t see Pepito waiting for him until it was too late… Within
seconds, Todd found himself strapped in the passenger seat of the Camaro with a
fuming Antichrist driving at a stomach-churning pace. They finally came to a
tire screeching halt at the International House Of Eating 24-7 and before Todd
could protest or escape, he was dragged inside and shoved into a conveniently
secluded booth.
Once the waitress had left, Pepito light a
cigar and started puffing away as he talked. “Alright, Squee. This game of
spiting me has gone far enough.”
“What are you talking about?” Squee asked.
He nervously fiddled with a cigarette.
“We’ve known each other since kindergarten!
Kindergarten!” snapped the Antichrist in a huff of smoke. “This is the first
time I have ever seen you give so freely of yourself to another person. You
barely know that girl and yet you’ve told her things today that you always kept
from me. You have told her of you dreams, your fears, you ambitions… And never
have you been as open with me as you have with this Rufus. You’ve shared
more feelings and love with her in a mere day than you shared with me in ten
years.” Pepito looked on the verge of tears. “Why must you deny me this, Squee?
Why?”
For a moment, Todd couldn’t speak. Then
words began to bubble up on his tongue and, unable to stop them, Todd found his
lips giving those words shape. They flowed out his mouth in a quiet torrent of
hate. “Why? I’ll tell you why: Because you’re a fucking monster,
Pepito. Since I met you, I’ve spent my life in utter fear of what you might do
to me if I ever pissed you off. You’re yet another nightmarish thing in my
shitty existence to plague my waking days with your disgusting evil and your
leers and you fucked up innuendos. It sickens me.” Todd got to his feet and
snarled over his shoulder as he began walking out of the restaurant. “I want
never to see you again, Pepito.”
---
The clock read two o’clock. Todd rolled
over and pulled the blankets over his head.
“Still not asleep?” asked Shmee, looking
down from the wall Todd had stabbed him to. “It’s been almost two months…”
“Be quiet,” came the hiss as Todd jerked
the blankets around himself tighter. “Or I’m putting you in the garbage
disposal.”
“More threats…” Shmee chuckled. “I’m sure
you have notice that you’re getting worse, Squee. Day by day, hour-by-hour, a
sickness grows within you. It makes you want to hurt, to kill. Even
Rufus is beginning to see the corruption inside you.”
Looking out from underneath the blankets,
Todd glared at the bear. “Shut up.”
“And Pepito knew you were sick long before
you realized it.” The bear rattled on. “That’s why you drove him away. He saw
the sickness and wanted to use it to make you his slave. But Rufus doesn’t want
sick servants. Once she realizes what you’re becoming, she will destroy you.
None of them want to save you, Squee. Only I can help you now. Trust in me
again, boy, and I can bring you a cure to your sickness. All you need to do is
give in…just give in…”
“FUCK YOU!” Todd jumped out of bed, still
dressed, and stormed out of the room. Downstairs, the front door slammed.
“Nice going, fuzzy,” sneered a part of the
darkness. “At this rate, I’m never going to be free.”
“Patience, my doughy friend.” Shmee
murmured soothingly. “He’ll break soon enough. And then you both shall have
form again.”
From another part of darkness a second
voice grumped, “But master, I like oblivion.”
“Hush.” At that, the house fell into ominous
silence.
---
Over and over again, the latest poet kept
groaning about the pits of misery he was soaking in, the delicious taste of
funeral delights, or some other Goth shit like that but Todd wasn’t paying
attention. Carpe Jugular’s open-mike night might be an annoying gimmick, but
this was the only bar open this late Todd knew of that wouldn’t card him. And
given the week he’d been having, getting shit-faced seemed like a wonderful
escape.
‘Maybe I’ll get drunk enough to read some
of my stuff tonight…’ Todd snickered at the idea of all these self-proclaimed
jaded hedonists vomiting from the vileness of his writings. Then again, after
listen to the garbage losers like Gwish and her cronies spewed into the
microphone, this black clad jackass were probably nausea proofed. He lifted his
beer only to find that it was empty. Disappointment hit him like an ice cream
cone hitting the sidewalk. “Damn it.”
Suddenly, a bottle of whiskey and two
glasses materialized in front of him. Todd stared at the bottle in amazement.
“Go ahead. Have a drink on me.”
Turning slowly, Todd found himself face to
face with a slightly worn-out Antichrist. “It’s poisoned, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be stupid.” Pepito snapped, setting down
beside him. He poured them each a shot and shoved one into Todd’s hand. “Just
act like you don’t loathe me for five minutes, okay?”
Todd sighed, downing the whiskey in a gulp.
“Um, do you mind telling me why you’re here?”
“Because I couldn’t find enough lemons and
salt to rub in my wounds.”
“I’m sorry.”
Pepito slammed his glass on the bar.
“Sorry? This is the first time you’ve actually spoken to me in weeks without
screaming and all you can manage is a lame little ‘sorry’?”
“At least I’m trying!” Todd snapped back.
“It’s not like I’m the one in the wrong here! You went bunny-boiling crazy just
because Rufus is a friend of mine. And let’s not forget you’re little bitch
fest about me going to church.”
“Fuck God! He’s never been there for you
like I have.”
Todd started to reply, then shook his head
and poured himself another shot. “No. I’m not getting into this argument with
you again.” He downed it. “You won’t listen, no matter what the hell I say. So,
let us both shut up and just sit here drinking ourselves stupid.”
“Fine,” agreed Pepito, refilling both their
glasses. “Let’s do just that.”
And so they sat at the bar, drinking
themselves into stupidity as another poet bleated on about the magnificence of
her last boyfriend’s suicide and how beautifully cruel he was for leaving her
behind with the delights of suffering. Suddenly, both Todd and Pepito began to
laugh.
“Damn! Doesn’t she know what happens to
suicides in the afterlife?” giggled Pepito. “Sweetie, being a civil servant for
all of eternity is nothing to glorify!”
“And what the fuck is with this ‘drawing
the razor across his wrist’? Don’t any of you kids do the fucking
research anymore?” Todd barked and, leaping up on stage, demonstrated the
proper way to slit one’s wrists. “See? You’ve must take the blade up the
forearm to open that vein up right! Otherwise you’ll be lying there for hours
waiting to die.” He jerked the mike away from the girl, feeling a rant coming
on. “You fuckers don’t have any idea what it’s like to really want to
die, do you? All you pampered shitsacks care about is how cool you look in that
brand new corset and finding new ways to bitch about being so misunderstood
when you treat other like shit. You poser bastards use the Goth subculture as
an excuse to alienate and ridicule others to bolster your own lack of
self-esteem. Misery and suffering aren’t things to be celebrated, you holes:
They are a reminder that life sucks balls. Life makes you want to die. And
there’s nothing beautiful about wanting death, fucktards! Suicide is a cry for
help! It’s the drastic attempt to make human contact which pretentious
motherfuckers like you deny others. So you all can go fuck yourselves.”
Throwing down the mike, Todd jumped off the
stage after giving the stunned crowd the finger. He felt himself shaking and
sweating feverishly as he scrapped the horse-laughing Antichrist off the floor.
“Come on Pepito, let’s get out of here before I end up killing people.”
“Aw…but it’s just getting fun!” he pouted
with a snicker then saw the look on Todd’s face.
“Let’s go. Now.” Todd carried
the smaller boy out of Carpe Jugular. As they staggered down the street, he
kept wondering what possessed him to get up in front of all those idiots in the
first place. Was he that drunk? Was it because Pepito thought it funny? Wait.
When did he start caring what the devil-boy thought of him? And why the hell
did he suddenly want to find an out-of-the-way spot and tear off Pepito’s
clothes with his teeth?
“Uh, Squee?”
Todd put that disturbing image out his mind
for a second. “Yeah?”
“You can put me down now.”
“Sorry!” He let Pepito down, but kept an
arm about his waist.
Pepito gave him a strange look. “Squee, why
are you still touching my ass?”
“I’m not touching your ass!” Todd shrieked.
Then he noticed where his hand was resting. “Okay, maybe I am! But it’s not
like…I mean… oh shit.”
There was a nasty, smug grin on Pepito’s
face. “I can’t say I’m not enjoying this turn of events, but it’s probably
because we’re both shitfaced so I won’t throw you up against that wall and fuck
your brains out. Not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I want you to know I
think you fuckable sober.”
“Right…” Nodding sleepily, Todd took a step
back. “You want to walk home with me? I don’t think I’d like to pass out in the
gutters around here. The hoboes might eat me.”
“Sure.” As they stumbled toward the ‘burbs,
Pepito turned to Todd. “I take it we’re friends again?”
“I guess so.” Todd muttered, then hugged
the Antichrist. “You still scare the shit out of me, though…”
They both started laughing at that,
ignoring the irate screams of their neighbors and the barking of dogs in
fenced-in yards.
----