More Unsecret Dialogues of S and J – SURPRISES.

The creaking doors swished open and a silence permeated the waiting area as two figures seemed to eerily materialize from nowhere behind the frosted glass doors.
S’ eyes met with those of her partner in crime for the first time in days; this was the first time they’d met since the “incident” took place. As S’ newly deemed co-defendant, J knew she should not be there for the release of her friend from custody, but could not help herself. And, upon the swishing sound, J walked directly toward the figures of a cranky, uptight police officer and her best friend.

“Are you good?”

J whispered as she fumbled with the tangle of keys she nervously clung to. A jingling sound resounded in the vault-like building.

“I’m fucking lovely.”

The monotoned statement was followed by a tight shutting of S’ jaw. Then, S hastily added,

“I’m hungry.”

The officer irritatedly shuffled through a closely guarded stack of documents and handed S some paperwork before saying rather pompously:

“Here’s your court date and miscellaneous information regarding your bail bond, etcetera… don’t screw it up.”
S snatched the pages from the policeman with a sniff of disgust and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.


And with that, the noisily chatting women exited the building into the dusky evening outside.

“Maybe we should have thought that through a lil’ better, huh?”

J shuffled through the paperwork as S sped the beat up old truck through the city towards the comfort of the outskirts.

“Give me a light.”

S muttered through the cigarette hanging between her lips. J sparked her lighter and S puffed and inhaled deeply, rolling down the crank window with her free hand.

“It was very well thought out.”

The shorter woman calmly lowered her voice as she inhaled and exhaled the cigarette smoke in her slow, calculated way.

“It’s just that someone went and ran his mouth about it.”

J whipped her head to the left in an attempt to glimpse a look at her friend’s face in the darkened cab. She saw immediately that S wasn’t in a joking mood, and, that she meant what she had just said with deadly seriousness.

“Someone?”

The taller woman’s voice held a tone of disbelief in it’s query. She held her gaze steadily across the front seat at the driver’s frowning profile.

“Yes, someone who wasn’t arrested, but who also, knew enough to sing on us like a canary.”

S tossed her cigarette butt out the window as the truck eased onto the freeway. The cab was silent for long moments as they headed for the reservoir.

“Where are we going?”

J had true curiosity in her voice as she lit her own cigarette and toyed with the lighter, sparking it unnecessarily in the darkness.

“Don’t you want to know who that someone is?”

Now, it was S’ voice that carried tones of leery disbelief in her question. The last two words of her sentence, the: “someone” and the “is”, seemed to echo in the truck cab for a long time after she re-focused on the road after speaking.

J quietly bit her lip and thought about the query for several moments before turning her face sharply toward S in the dark truck cab and saying finally,

“I really don’t know S…”

The truck speedily swerved up the misty, foggy mountain road, whipping its hefty bed around hairpin turns and bouncing over deep cracks and dips that littered the length of it. They eventually turned off onto a road known as Cannibal Creek that run adjacent to one of the many creeks running down into the reservoir.

“Why the hell are we turning here?” J’s voice was flat as she asked.

“We’re here because we need to be here.” S’ voice was flatter.

As they wound up even higher into the cloudy sky toward the summit of Razor Back Mountain, it began to drizzle lightly; suddenly, water drops were audible all over the forested areas surrounding them outside the truck. It became very quiet and cold as they reached the rickety shanty at the top of the road.

J shivered.
“Who’s in there, S?”

There was no answer. The truck rolled on slowly, pitching and rolling over the bumpy drive until coming to a barreling halt in front of the rain-slick shanty. S threw the truck into PARK and hurried out of the driver’s seat to go inside.

J was screaming after her when the door slammed closed with a loud ‘thwack’.

“Dude, you’ve been in jail for almost a week…how’d you pull this one off from behind bars?!”

She hesitantly pulled the handle that popped the passenger door open, exposing her arms to the cold raindrops that were now coming in a steady stream. Leading to the makeshift doorway of the dilapidated shack were rapidly spinning eddies of growing swirls of muddy foam; each mud puddle was full of pine needles and various sized pine cones awash within its pool. A large owl sat solemnly on a beam that ran across the ruins of what once had been a sun porch connected to the entrance of the tiny place. The bird of prey stared at the women hard; it watched S and J with grey/yellow speckled, quite dilated eyes that followed their’ positions as they approached without a sound.

J was obviously in the first stages of her quite notorious “frustration meltdowns”.

As S’ tiny tinkerbell hand wrapped around the rusty knob, she turned to J and said, almost in a whisper:
“Shhhhhhhh…it’s a surprise…”

J’s eyes rolled upwards with exasperation and her tongue clicked loudly in disgust. She practically growled at S in a low tone now,


“I fucking hate surprises, S…”

The door swung wide.

Crooked Finger.

I know you’ve made the effort,

to fish me out and throw me aloft,

you’ve been on belay for a decade,

awaiting the tension on my end to let off,

you typically would never bother with,

hand-holding of the incompetent,

you have no patience or tolerance,

with things that lean to your detriment,

yet somehow your open palmed hand,

remains out to me, wherever I am,

even if I don’t know where I stand,

the bear blazes trails to the lamb,

I probably disappoint your mind,

and let your spirit down all the time,

I probably don’t very well epitomize,

the things you stand for in my own eyes,

I guess I feel heavy against your soaring flight,

like a weight on your ankle without any right,

I want you to achieve the dreams in your life,

with both of your hands free to win the fight,

            you’ll need both hands to accept the trophies,

            to stab at the person breaking and entering,

            to sign checks, breaks necks with your badassery,

            keep your hands free from the mess known as me.

 

 

 

The (Un)Secret Childhood Dialogue Chronicles -Tap Shoes.

I remember once when we were only about 5 years old, and minutes away from our debut on stage in our first (and last) dance recital; I was so nervous I couldn’t see straight, but S could’ve cared less about the people or the lights or the crowds of strange little girls to compare ourselves with.I recall so vividly too, as we sat backstage finishing the touches on our stupid little outfits (which were, by the way, exceptionally glitzy and covered in sequins and glitter, complete with a huge feather we each had to pin in our hair), S was fidgety as usual and muttering to herself.

“What? I can’t hear you…” I shouted to her ear as I pulled the hairbrush through her dark, wild hair before attempting for the final time to get the obnoxiously huge feather pinned in.

“I just still don’t know how good of an idea this whole “dance recital” thing is, you know?”

S had both hands up to make the bunny ears around the words dance and recital. The feather floated from my hands once again and glided in rocking motion to the dusty floor. We both sighed; I looked her over and saw that she was messing with her tap shoes, struggling to get them and tie the puffy ribbon laces.

“I know you hate this…but we’re almost up, S…get your shoes on!” I leaned down to help her with shoes as I hollered, “We’ve been over this – I know I owe you big time for coming to dance class with me…”

“-…and especially for making me dress like this!…my feet are killing me and we haven’t even been on stage yet!”

S’ helium voice rose to a staccato above the music and clapping of the audience. She pulled and heaved at her little feet in vain to finish getting her shoes on as I searched desperately for my left shoe. It only took me a second to see that S had it and was trying like Hell to make it fit on her right foot.

“Well, no wonder your feet hurt, that’s my shoe…”

Needless to include, our debut was hideous and we dropped out of dance class immediately following the police inquiry.

The Unsecret (Childhood) Dialogue of S and J (3).

“I had no idea the child was epileptic…”

Ms. Melody’s hands trembled in her lap as she answered the string of questions put forth by Mr. Brown, the principal. As J sat across the small space in the waiting niche from the two adults, she couldn’t help but to sense a bit of irony circling overhead, even at age 5. She casually let her eyes wander over to the nurse’s station, where her best friend in the world lay “unconscious” after all of the commotion.

“Pssssst. Psssst.”

S skillfully turned her head slightly to the right and peeled open one eye with careful attention, winked the eye quickly at her friend to reassure her that she was, after all, just fine, and then rolled and began to groan loudly.

“She’s waking up!”

cried J as she popped up from her chair and rushed over to S’ side, kneeling down closely to make sure that they would have the few seconds of private dialogue they needed to get out of the day’s cluster-fuck, unscathed.

“Here, here S – quick! Take this, hurry, give me your hand!”

Without a second’s hesitation, S shot her right hand out secretly, keeping it hidden between their tiny forms as she did. J slapped a key into her S’ palm, being careful to curl S’ small fingers up around the rough edges until S’ hand was closed tightly around it. The two savored a short moment of “the know” (the childhood title they used for their’ extraordinary ability to communicate almost telepathically), in which they shared a mental image of the overall escape plan.

“Hit the lights on your way out, would ya?”

S gave J’s request a quick nod of agreement as she began to sit herself up and ready for her mark.

And with that, the room became an explosion of activity all at once: papers flying everywhere, voices hollering, doors opening and slamming closed behind small, blurry blobs of pure motion. The fire alarm began to sound then, just as S made her way safely through the side exit and brushed her hand downward across the light switch. The building went dark; the fire-bell klaxon blaring with a Doppler affect overhead, the girls met up outside the office and slipped easily out through the rotten and retired drainage pipe that had eroded away enough to leave a child-sized passage. J being well-aware of S’ tendency to escalate situations without necessarily meaning to, she forced S to carry on ahead while she waited at the mouth of the passage exit to be certain that nobody had followed them through somehow.

It was another half hour before J made it to her house, where S had already made apple and peanut butter snacks for them.

“Your Dad says I can keep your house-key and he will just make you a new one…”

S said matter-of-factly as she crunched a piece of green apple.

              “He’s home?”

J suddenly sat up and wiped her face with her filthy hand, shocked and beginning to worry.

              “Does he know? You told him!?”

              S rolled her eyes, an expression that J endeared deeply in her best friend.

              “Um…I had to tell him, he drove past me at the crosswalk and pulled over to pick me up…I didn’t want him to take me back to school because he didn’t know better!!!…sorry, he’s not mad…”

J burned S with a look of sheer dubiousness.

              “He said we shoulda called him as soon as Ms. Melody gave me a seizure again, so that we coulda avoided all that time in the principal’s office…he thinks we spend too much time in there, anyway…”

The two girls crunched loudly on the snacks and caught their breath, collectively.

 

 

The Unsecret Dialogue Chronicles – The Hospital Files.

“Remind me to never let you follow through with any of those ‘Motivational Speaking’ plans that you may have when this is all over…”
S’ voice trailed off slightly with a faked giggle under her breath – she was nervous and edgy as Hell – but also knew that her best friend meant well.
“I meant that out of nothing but love, S…you know that I don’t think of you as a Tumor…”
J was shaking her head and lightly wrapping an arm around her trench mate as they slowly made their way into the hospital entrance.
“I know, I know…but your wording is like a sideshow freak sometimes…I knew what you meant.”
The two walked along in silence for a few moments before they turned to one another in synchronized time, and began to laugh loudly in the sullen corridor – so hard that they each doubled over in side-busting glory. The laughter became snorting and short gasps for breath that fell in between words muttered in vain, and soon enough, several orderly nurses popped heads around doorways with stern faces.
“Sorry, sorry…”
J managed to snort out as she peeled S off of the tiled floor and back into a standing position to continue the walk to the surgery department;
“We were just…oh, get fucked, we aren’t bothering anyone.”
The two figures strolled into the blazing sodium lights ahead, still trying to compose themselves from a minute ago.
“Did you actually just tell me to ‘Be The Tumor’, J?”
S hardly managed to get the sentence finished before her lips peeled upwards once more and she bore her big, white teeth as a means of a laughter warning.
“Aye…I did, Kid…and I meant it, too.”

The “Unsecret” Dialogue Chronicles _ Series II _ Part 1

Part 1:

YANK

The tune to Another One Bites the Dust by Queen begins playing loudly as J’s personal ringtone on S’ phone.

 

S:       J, it’s 3:22am…you’d better be in need a blood transfusion or something…

The line is silent on the other end, eerily silent. Then muffled groans and agonizing noises gradually start to become louder in S’ ear.

S:       J….? Oi! J….? Hello? Hello, hello?….

J:        Esthhh…Esthh…ugghhhh….

S:       What the fuck is wrong with you? You off the wagon eh?

J:        Esthhh, I need you to come offfver, rught mow, pleathhz…

S:       J?! Are you alright? What’s happened why can’t you speak?

S is suddenly very alarmed by the fact that her friend is unable to speak without sounding like the Godfather (Brando) and a mouth full of cotton balls; she sits up and starts looking for her shoes and bag…

S:       I’m on the way, J…

J:        Uggghhhhhhh!!!!

S swipes off the phone and is out the door in a flash.

 

KNOCK. KNOCK-KNOCK. KNOCK.

 

S:       J, you have thirty seconds to open the door before it gets fire-axed…

J’s front door flies open with stale, smoky breeze.

J:        Ugggghhhhh!!!

J grabs S by the shirt and pulls her into the doorway, slamming it behind them as they both stumbled into the darkness of J’s hot-boxed apartment; J is still clinging fiercely to S’ shirt and basically hanging on her right side, limply.

J:        Thuuuude….thoo you haff any of thothe pilths leff from your thurgery, Esthh…?

S noticed a whining in J’s voice that she had never heard before; she lit a cigarette in the dark, allowing herself a look at her friend’s face at last.

S:       Awwwww, J….you look like you’ve been hit by a truck!!!

J:        Do you haff pilths?…in a fuckton of fuccckkking pain ober here Esthh…

S:       Let me see it…c’mon now, open your mouth…

After a momentary, but comically pathetic (on J’s part) struggle, S finally convinced J to open her mouth and show off the culprit.

S:       Nasty fucker. Sucks for you, I have no pills…I ate them all after my last tooth saga – remember how fucked up I was? Sigh

J:        Aye…I rumumba…hey…?

S:       Ye?

J:        How bout your pwiers? Got ‘em on you?

S:       My pliers?…Yes, always…but….seriously?…you’re in THAT much pain, J?

J:        Uh-huh…uggghhhhh!….fuck yeth…fuck yeth…get it the fucckk outh! Pleath, Esthh, pleath!!!

READ THE NEXT EPISODE HERE!

The “Unsecret” Dialogue Chronicles – Part 7: Road Trip.

MMMM MMMMM MMMMM.

The car, with its trunk now packed to capacity by sloshing, black trash bags, was hosed down and shammed dry, engine running and brake lights blazing red through the darkness. J gunned the gas pedal a few times to affect her growing impatience with her best friend (who she loved fiercely, obviously).
J: Let’s roll, Short stack! It’s getting metallic in here!
S: Coming!
J: Mmmmm hmmmm
As the two roll on, deaf farmer’s farm-bound, S leans over and turns up the music to blast Nina loudly.
S: I LOVE this song!
J: Me too!
J: You know, Bear?…You didn’t have to murder four people just to get me over for coffee and a play date…?
S: I honestly didn’t intend to murder four people, J, I promise…
J: I know, I know…we really gotta work on your inner-vigilante some more, babe…this is what Henry was talking about when he was telling us about collateral damages…you won’t be able to call me prison cell to prison cell…
S: Don’t start with me…you’ve got some blood in your eyebrow…it’s about to get in your eye…
J: I know what you’re doing, S…it’s not gonna work…
J wipes her brow with a quick swipe, and turns down the volume of the radio.
J: I’m no murderer…
S: No… but your best friend can be one…
S: And, you are a really good housekeeper…just saying…
J lightly chops S in her throat as a gesture of love and acceptance before saying:
“You sawed-off, scary lil’ Fucker….you know I’ll come clean your house any day of the week…”

The “Unsecret” Dialogue Chronicles – Part 5

The two women have been working for handfuls of hours before the shorter, dark-haired fey steps out the back door; only moments pass before the barely-taller, sinewy blonde comes out behind her, letting the screen door slam with an obnoxious THWACK!

J:        Speaking of your “finest calculations”, Bear…what the hell are we gonna do now? Load up this fuckloads of trash into my car and drive to…..?

S:       Yeah, well I said it wasn’t well-thought out already, didn’t I?

J:        Don’t get snippy with me, Miss Thang! I mean, sure my tits are hanging out but they’re covered in blood for Chrissake…and it’s not even mine, S…I’m not very sure how I’m feeling right now…do we make out or just wrap this up?

S:       Are you still talking?…

S shakes her head and jumps down from the perch she had been smoking atop of in the cool air; she brushes off her ass and walks back inside without another word.

J:        I’ll assume that means you’re trying to wrap this shit up, eh?

S yells from inside the house – in her Bear Trainer’s voice;

S:       Get your ass in here already and c’mon! Such a dawdler!

S mumbles under her breath:

‘It’s no wonder I stared at my phone screen for twenty minutes before pressing the send button under your name, you molasses-motioned pothead…’

J:        What? (from the backyard, still finding her way slowly inside)

S:       Huh? Nothing, I wasn’t talking to you…

J:        cock-blocking me?

S:       No! I said I wasn’t talking to you! Are you coming?

J:        Dude, who’s coming?

S:       Huh?

CLICK HERE for Part 6!

The “Unsecret” Dialogue Chronicles – Part 3

A NOTE ON THE VOICES OF “S” AND “J”:
• “S” SOUNDS LIKE AN ADORABLE SOUTH AFRICAN (WITH TOURRET’S)
• “J” SOUNDS LIKE A HIGH-STRUNG VALLEY GIRL (WITH TOURRET’S)

Liquid noisily splashing against plastic sheeting in background.
J: So, uhhhh….were ya gonna tell me about the toaster or…..?
S: J…would you please stop stepping there! You’re making a mess – LOOK!!!
J: Sorry, oh oops…my foot was stuck to some Jello-y stuff that’s stuck down…oh shit…oops…
S: J! Stop fucking around and help me with the mirror real quick – hurry!… or else the dude you didn’t see yet becomes a problem for us!
J: Okay, okay…
slips and slides her way over to the counter and climbs up next to S, who is tearing off a sheet to cover the vanity mirror with
J: Bear! The toaster!
S: Right right…the toaster…

the two struggle briefly to reach all the way to the ceiling, as they are only ten feet tall – combined.

J: This is about your Gods damned burgle, isn’t it?
S: Huh? Oh….that….huh?
J: Don’t play dumb with me!
S: You do realize your own circumstantial lack of leverage here, don’t you?
J: THE TOASTER!!!
S: Huh?….

*The final sheet of plastic has been lain; and the two tiny creatures sit down on the vanity counter-top with surprisingly heavy ‘thuds’, one grinning widely and the other exhaling a sigh of frustration *

S: That toaster was well worth the money I spent on it, though – for the record…

J is totally distracted by a shimmer in a puddle of dark blood

J: Why?…how much did you pay for it?

CLICK HERE for Part 4!

The “Unsecret” Dialogue Chronicles – Part I

Ring Ring Ring ring… ring… Ring.. Ring…. Riiiing Riiiiing…..

J: Hello?

S: Babe.

J: Hello?

S: BABE! Its ME.

J: Ah Hell…What the fuck…?

J: S?

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.

J: WHO?

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?

J: No.

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.

CLICK HERE for Part 2!