I thought you’d left while I was in the bubble bath;
So I paraded around sporting bitchy tits ‘n ass…
I wrapped myself up in your freshly washed towel;
telling myself I was glad that you were gone now…
Silly me; you actually never had gone anywhere at all;
I found you standing quietly with your mouth opened in awe …
Beads of sweat dot your head; a crown of liquefied guilt;
Swallowed whole – from all you know; desire you’ve never felt…
And when you see my red-ruby pouting start to pucker,
and sense how my insides tense; you sexy mother-fucker…
Lick me clean of my tears – salted by such childish fears;
strike a match against the fuse between the filthy and the pure…
tonight I stroke your hidden side – that displaced face you always hide;
Allow me to perfect your view of how a good girl will abide…
you stood there, your hands wringing with intensity;
shirtless and hungry like a pre-meditative beast,
I was yours bendable expendable – that’s right, wrapped up tight;
And you were yourself – an animal, ever-ready to bite…
the time became a sucking noise from the drain,
you manhandled my body and I hijacked your brain;
I’m glad you never left while I was in the bubble bath;
it’s sad to think about it now after so much time has passed.
Ring Ring Ring ring… ring… Ring.. Ring…. Riiiing Riiiiing…..
S: BABE! Its ME.
J: Ah Hell…What the fuck…?
S: I need you to come over.
J: Why? What’s happened?
S: Well… I happened, to be VERY precise. Can you bring, like, all the plastic sheeting and … all things plastic?
J: Are you taking the piss???
S: That would be funny. But no… I’m not.
J: Do I even ask?
S: Probably not a good idea.
S: I didn’t get his name… or hers.
J: TWO people???
S: Uhm… 4. But let’s not get stuck on details eh? Can you come over? Like, now?
S: What? Why..?
J: Kidding. I am on my way.
S: Cool. I have everything else… and one of them had a full pack of smokes. So SCORE!
J: You are not well in the head, kid.
S: Oh, I know.
J: Fucking hell. OK. Be there in ten.
S: Okay. Hurry.
J: Keep your panties on, I am ON MY WAY.
S: Oh… fuck.. speaking of panties..
J: Stop talking. I don’t want to know what that means.
S: All good. I found them.
J: I’m hanging up now.
S: Cool. Cool. I will put the kettle on.
So I paraded around in tears, sporting naked tits ‘n ass…
I sat on the floor, wrapped in your freshly washed towel;
In love with a truth masks my pain, somehow…
Silly me: you never left to go anywhere at all;
Eyes fixated on my body like I’m a photo on a wall…
Beads of sweat dot your head; a crown of liquefied guilt;
Swallowed whole – by all you know; release like you’ve never felt…
Can you see my ruby-sadness drenched, pouting lips start to pucker?
Can you sense: the way my insides tense; and my skin burns like a mother-fucker?
Lick me clean, of these tears – salted with my own childish fears;
Light the fuse of combustion between the filthy and most pure…
Let me nurture your hidden side – that face you always hide;
Allow me to show you how a good girl shall abide…
Don’t just sit there, with your mouth hanging wide;
Let me give you something to finally close those tired eyes.
I will be yours bendable expendable – to do with, whatever you like;
And you will be yourself – a snake in the grass, ever-ready to strike…
I will hold you closely, so tightly that your breath fails;
Bet your ass – we will lie together – in this filthy bed of nails.
Despite the “unapproachability” that I so openly tease the Orphan about on a regular basis, he continues to be socially accosted by some of the most pond-scummiest of creatures imaginable so far, in his evolutionary adventures as a born-again Red Triangle Surfer God.
- The Orphan is a strange combination of “Foreign” = the Orphan interacts socially in a different manner than that which Americans (especially West Coast Surfer Boys/OGSC’s) are at all prepared for, much less have any clue how to respond to, in most cases.
- It’s actually pretty fuckin’ funny to watch from a safe distance most of the time…shame on me.
- The Orphan does Him, and tends not to worry about what anyone is doing until whatever they’re doing starts to impede on his own gig = he’s 9 times out of 10 NOT the one to initiate conversation with a stranger (I imagine he was this way always, even in his most familiar of environments). He keeps to himself unless a nerve gets pinched.
- The Orphan is, just like Yours Truly, allergic to BULLSHIT = don’t talk in front of him if you’re full of shit because he will sniff you out in an nano-second and expose you until you disappear.
A BELOVEDLY TRUE STORY:
He is sitting out past the breakers in the solitude of a favorite beach break of his, enjoying the peace and quiet away from the trendy tourist beaches that have become UN-FUN due to so many idiot vacationers. Suddenly, he is startled by a raspy voice behind him somewhere close by and he whips his head around to see a washed-up, rode hard, dirty Surf Bum paddling up to his position in the lineup.
His eye rolling doesn’t deter the man from sliding in next to him as he waits for a good ride and begins to talk to the Orphan openly about his problems.
“I feel like shit, Man…haven’t had a drink in over 48 hours…trying to quit, ya know?…
The Orphan just stares straight ahead but gives a nod of acknowledgment because he is, unfortunately for him at this very moment in the story, a Human Being.
“Just gotta stop drinking, Man…” no waves to ride in come, so the Orphan listens on, somehow intrigued by the train wreck of a surfer.
The older guy is obviously distraught and in a state of disarray as he tells the Orphan about a “fight” with his “Ol’ Lady” a few nights prior, and having had to leave the house afterward so as not to be arrested when the police arrived.
“It’s all because women ya know?…they are so fragile …you can’t hit ‘em like you could, a man, ya know…? …so much frailer, so easy to really fuck up in fight…so I gotta stop that drinkin’, Man…”
After several minutes of collecting enough verbal information that the Orphan felt certain of his quickly forming opinion regarding a somewhat “touchy” subject, he responded to this miserably clueless, self-admitted woman beater in the way that ONLY the Orphan could.
He turned and made intentionally piercing eye-contact with the man on the board just 2 feet away from him and simply stated:
“Hey…Dude…. I mean, I think it has certainly occurred to you by now that maybe…..you don’t need to stop fighting with your lady because “she is fragile and frail”…”, his fingers are up to do the accompanying gesture of quotation marks, “maybe it’s just because you’re an alcoholic idiot who can’t control himself when he’s drunk – which sounds like it’s ALWAYS….”
The Orphans posture is straight and self-assured as he sits like statue waiting for a response of any kind that takes a while to come, surprisingly.
“Well…ya got a point there, don’t you Kid?”