I was down the back of my section getting stuck into the overgrown mass of weeds there with a view to turning it into a vegetable wonderland. Right now the weeds with their long intertwined root systems were winning hands down. However I persevered in the hot sun until I had to stop and take a drink of water from the sipper bottle I had left in the shade. Lukewarm.
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Selma Fox looked at the Senior English Class and considered which lucky young man would be her boytoy that semester. The first and most rigid requirement she had was that he had to be at least 18 years old, because she didn't want to get into any trouble with the law. Fucking and sucking off students was frowned on by the officials of the school district but, as long as nobody got hurt and no laws were broken, they would be willing to look the other way. Good teachers were hard to find, and Selma was one of the best.
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My first two years out of high school, I attended a community college, and worked as a delivery driver for a well-known pizza delivery chain we'll call "Checkers" to protect the innocent.
It was a pretty good job. Most of the drivers were needed in the evening so it didn't interfere with classes. You got paid a salary, tips and commission (to pay for gas) which averaged more than $8.00 an hour when minimum wage was closer to $4.00.
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I lay in the bathtub, watching steam rise from the warm water. I should have felt relaxed, but I did not. I waited apprehensively. Nothing could calm my nerves. Not the dozen candles that lit the bathroom. Not even the New Age CD that filled the room with the comforting sound of the ocean washing against the shore.
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Annie Daniels sighed softly and paused at the large steel-and-stone gate, then accelerated to glide up the hill. Tall statues of cement cast spooky shadows on the ground, and she shivered as she killed the engine and stepped out into the slightly chilly air of early evening.
She made her way hesitantly to the fat gravestone a few yards away, a sunflower clutched in her hands, which she lovingly placed at the base of the marker. "I miss you, Matthew."
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Even in my mid-20's some of my friends were a little rounder than they should be. I tried to get to the gym regularly to avoid that. Having a routine and going on the same days each week you see some of the same faces each time at various points during your workout. There were always nice sights to see at the gym and many times on the treadmill I would see the same blond working up a sweat. She had a few years on me and was doing what she could to hold off time.
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After living next door to my neighbor Helen and John for many years, I discovered that Helen had a sister, Olive, in the small town of Little Washington where I spent a few years in my youth. Olive and her husband ran the local drive-in and I had spent many an evening at that drive-in.
One summer John, I, and my 15-year-old son took a boat trip south with an invitation to stay at Olive's house. It took us two days by boat to get there and Olive's son Charles picked us up at the boat ramp.
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It was going to be a long day, as Saturdays usually were. The weather was beautiful outside, which made me all the more bitter for being stuck at work. Library patrons always seemed more demanding on Saturday afternoons and doubly so on nice ones. They'd simply wave and beckon on me to attend to their needs. A dude has a to have a pretty strong stomach to deal with some of these people. The homeless people and the whores are always hooking up in this place.
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Gary eased himself into the very hot waters of his hot tub. The contrast of the hot water to the nearly zero degrees of the freezing night air always startled him. It was nearly midnight and other than the light of the moon, it was dark in his backyard. When the clouds passed between the moon and Earth it became pitch dark. Gary wore no bathing suit, as usual, because no one could see that he was naked, even in the clear daylight. His wooded backyard assured that he could be naked in his hot tub without fear of being observed by neighbors.
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Privately, I call her ‘Little Miss Sulky’. Tara, my wife’s daughter from her first marriage is a mass of seething teenage hormones and temper tantrums wrapped up in a nicely curved-in-all-the-right-places, curly-blonde-headed package. She is an fairly ordinary, nice looking kid…no that’s not right, emerging young woman…or rather, she would be without the constant sulkily pouting lips and sullen frown. She really is very pretty when she smiles, which is all too seldom.
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