Day 4: Boom

A/N: I am so sorry about my lapse in the last few days. Finals has been me writing literally 6 essays. I’m mostly finished with them. In return i will be writing an especially long piece today. I know it doesn’t make up for it…but still here.


Song Inspiration: Super Bass


It started with the light rapping in the back. It wasn’t coming from under the stack of papers on her desk. The chair creaked back as Allison peered down the aisle from in her cubicle. It’s was surprising that she could hear the sound at all; the office was a loud and busy place. The phone was pressed against her ear and an older woman was muttering about maybe wax sculptures. The rapping wasn’t coming from the receiver. The beat was familiar but it slipped around her head. The chair jerked back suddenly and Allison’s heart was in her throat and she yelped and threw the phone. Hand on her chest, she breathed and regained herself. Mike, the guy across the aisle, was gawking at her but like most things he sighed about it and went back to tap tap taping on his calculator. How old had that calculator had to be to tap tap tap like that. Better yet, why was he using a physical calculator? It wasn’t the 80s.

The rap-a-tat-tat came again and Allison was standing up and peering over her cubicle’s shared wall with Wally. Wally was creaking back in her chair, head hanging back, long black hair a river to the ground. Their eyes met but neither said a thing for a long time.

“Is there a weird sound.” Allison finally said, her phantom hair tickling her face. She swiped hair that wasn’t there.

“You yelped.” Wally smirked her alluring smirk. She had a way of hitting on everyone that was both charming and scary. She was very good at making the lady workers giggle nervously and cover their mouths and cheeks.

“I mean something like a-a tap tap like someone on a book with their um hands.” Allison swiped the phantom hair again, “Forget it. It-it was stupid. Forget it.”

“Nah. Sorry Alli, no secret book band hiding over here.” Then she smiled and her olive skin glowed, “But i have a serious question for you.” She folded her arms in front of her chest, the buttons on her oxford  stretching. Allison could see that Wally’s bra was black. Wally smiled, “Are you busy later today after work?”

Allison wasn’t busy. She had things to do, but that didn’t mean she had to busy

“I’m not particularly busy, what’s up?” Allison was trying to sound aloof and “cool”

Wally laughed, “What is up is that i was wondering if you wanted to get dinner. i know this pretty average Japanese restaurant that i’m dying to hate.” Then Wally flipped the hair behind her ear and Allison smiled. She nodded and slipped back over onto her side of her cubicle. She picked up her receiver and the old woman was still going on about some man named Sam Jinks. Allison was grinning like a fool and caught sight of Mike looking over at her. He sighed and tapped again.

“Alli.” Wally’s voice came from above her head. Wally’s black hair flowed down the shared wall, “My number.” Allison took it with a nod and a point to her receiver, “Have fun.”and Wally’s hair slid back over to her side.

Allison gets out of work at exactly 7 pm every day. She usually has to turn her forms to her boss ten minutes early, punch out, gather her files and things, before she could actually get out. Allison has got the perfect cocktail for leaving precisely at 7. She didn’t know if  she should wait at her desk for Wally to finished or at the door or at her cubicle.

“Meet you at the exit in twenty.” The text came in on Allison’s phone as she finished putting her coat on. Allison smiled and headed towards the exit.

It was colder than the weather channel had told Allison. She kicked her feet on the concrete, the tap tap taping coming back to her. Oh that’s right. She found herself thinking. She shuffled through her bag and her pockets. It had to be something she was carrying around. The question was from–

“Sorry, Ellen thinks that my–you lost something?” Wally had materialized suddenly next to Allison and she jumped, “Okaaay?”

“No. I mean. I haven’t lost anything. What were you saying about Ellen?”

Wally put her hands in her pockets slowly, a sly smile on her lips. She didn’t say anything. She just started walking and Allison followed along.

“We’ll take my car. It’s not too far.” And Wally slipped into the front seat.

When Allison sat down in the car next to this cool woman she suddenly realized she was confused. This was Wally and they had only spoken a few times and about work stuff. She had no idea how to even begin speaking to such a woman. Allison kept stealing glances and rubbing her palms on her pants. Wally seemed like an elite working a job much below her. The car was clean and new smelling and expensive. Her clothes were probably expensive too. Allison didn’t know anything about cars or clothes, but she knew that elites had expensive versions of the things she had bought at bargain places. Allison sighed and fiddled with her fingers then she was wiping her sweat into her pants again. Hard to breathe suddenly. She had to be at least 30 and–

“What are you thinking about?”

“Oh-um just um Japanese food. Haven’t ever had it.” Allison laughed.

Wally looked Allison in the eyes for a moment, smiling. Allison couldn’t break herself away from the dark eyeliner sweeping under her slim brown eyes.

“Well this place is probably going to change your life.” And they were seated in the restaurant, cheap seats and men rushing around in aprons. The ground was bare and un-tiled and the staff were squeezing through the tiny spaces in between the tables. Allison couldn’t help but notice that Wally seemed so out of place.

“Alright. What do you want, staring at me like that?” The way Wally eyes curled when she said that meant that she meant it.

“I-i wanted to know…it’s not–i don’t know how to say it.” Sweaty palms.

“I’m an only child. MY parents are married. I’m left handed. I just saved up my checks for 3 years and bought that car you were in.” She listed off a few things and flicked back her black hair, “Stop me when i hit the answer to the question”

“Oookay.” Allison didn’t know what to do.

“I live in a small apartment down the hall from you, but i’ve never come over and said hello. You are always gone in the morning before i get there and back home before i get off of work.” She leaned forward, her pink goat on her lap, making her face glow pink, Allison’s eyes widened, “Sometimes i hear you listening to soccer in your back yard, grilling hot dogs, yelling to your friend on the phone. Yelling pretty loudly too.” Allison is covering her cheeks and looking down

“It’s called football.” Allison found herself mumbling into her hands.

The waiter came suddenly and Allison was waving and saying she’d have the same as what she was having.

“Is that why you invited me to eat?” Allison started, fiddling now with the forks in the tight napkin.

“No. I just hate coming to restaurants alone.”

The tap tap taping suddenly started up again. Where in the world–Allison started shuffling through her purse.


Day 3: Balls


JIngle Balls (As the french call them)


He didn’t like the way his father twisted and tinkered with the ornaments. It made him uncomfortable sitting across from his younger sister dressed in pink and red frilled dress. She looked so very upset, arms cross, and cheeks red from pouting so furiously. She had this absent look in her eyes like she’d forgotten why she’d gotten so cross but was too committed to her frown to stop now. His father twisted the green striped on over and again, the tree shaking and flaking. His mother walked over every so often in her black high heels sweeping the shedding under under the fake snow. She looked very sophisticated in her black dress, but his father always got so cross when mother looked so curvy.

The second ball ornament slid down the string and collided with the green stripped one, crushing a popcorn in the middle.

“Juan-Carlos!” His father’s voice came suddenly almost like he’d turned around and rushed at him with both arms. He was standing facing the tree his green sweater facing the boy. Juan-Carlos lept up and rushed, palms up to help, “Hold these!”

Juan-Carlos cradled the two balls in one hand and his cheeks grew red. Two red balls in his hands. He wanted to giggle. Make a snide comment the frills on his sister dress, the black heels on his mother, and the sweater on his father kept his kravatte tie tighten like a noose around his neck. Sweat globbed up on his hand and is father glared at him for a moment looked at his red face.

“Help your mother.” And he snatched the balls, separating them into two separate hands

Day 2: Coming


A coming of Age about a boy with a beard


The other guys couldn’t take pride in the stubble that Doug was admiring unknowingly with his fingers. The Middle School students had watched him wander around scratching and pulling at the little hairs, and they had too started rubbing red marks into their soft chins. Doug had a special gift. A gift that the college student peering into his bathroom mirror, groaning and shaving away the light soft patchy bits would die to to have been blessed with. Doug had a naturally scraggly beard. The matted, long, black hair, turning up and around. It tickled his nose durning P.E., face reddened and damp with sweat. He hated the hair. It made him sweat more than his friends. WHen he wiped his face it scratched his arm. The girls never liked to talk to him. They thought he was weird. Little did Doug know, It wasn’t nearly as hairy as it would get in high school. What he had now was stubble. In 4 years when he was lopping it off every weekend or every day when he got that managerial position at the local office supply warehouse it would be a beard.

Day 1: Beg


You were caught in an avalanche. To be rescued, you need to make it through the night. What thought(s) would give you the strength to go through such a scary, dangerous situation?


You’d think that when you feel the snow crush down you’d immediately know that you’re a goner. It’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t be able to even attempt to lie to yourself about. You can’t feel your tongue in your mouth, but you bet your ass that you’re trying to figure out what happened and what you’ve gotta do. It’s like how people in a failing marriage can never see that their love is just shitty and rotting from the inside out, but everyone with a clear nasal canal can smell it come from a hundred miles away. Hope is shitty.

What i needed to do was to pace my breathing and stay awake. If i fell asleep

“and 4th place goes to Erick.” And the spidery man skittered off to his seat to the left of the heavy black curtains.

Erick was a mopey kid with droppey eyes and liked to walk as slowly as possible. He dragged around his long gangling legs taking ginger steps and frowning all the while. The audience watched his slow movement towards the microphone in silence, probably too razzed by the silence itself or the how possibly uneventful this whole thing had been. Who really cared what the fourth place in the blahblahblah is? Certainly not

You’d think that it’d burn to push yourself in that kind of weight, moving in the slosh slightly moist from your body heat. The thing about ice/ snow is that it didn’t actually pack evenly. It was hard to breathe and every second you were gambling with the idea that at some point you’d hit a pocket that brought down all that snow, and just crush you for good. That might have been a relief when you suddenly remember that all you had to do was stay awake and breathe, but then how would they find you? There won’t be much to save if you keep on moving like that. DOn’t sleep but rela

Do cats know that they’re cats when they’re just born like how geese know how to push an egg through their legs and into it’s nest without ever being taught? When they meow are they surprised?

Piss is every where. That woke you up. You would think that this was something that would be well documented, snow survivors. Well it’s not a well documented thing, or you’d know about it. Before you never put yourself in a terrorizing position you liked to look up deaths directly relating to the events you intend on participating in. It’s a cruel humor you share only with yourself. The piss is eating up all the good air in this bubble you’re trapped in under how many layers of snow. its smells like  piss and soon it starts tasting like piss.

Theodore Roosevelt. See, that was a man.

So where are you? You’re in some motel room. You just – you just wake up and you’re in – in a motel room. There’s the key. It feels like maybe it’s just the first time you’ve been there, but perhaps you’ve been there for a week, three months. It’s – it’s kind of hard to say. I don’t – I don’t know. It’s just an anonymous room. If you could just… reach over and touch… her side of the bed, you would know that it was cold, but you can’t.

Maybe you die there. Maybe the cold crushes your lungs and wipes your bones into dust. You’re a strong person and you know that’s not true. You have to be still in the ice waiting for them to find you. You just have to keep breathing. Try to stay awake.