#DAMN DANIELLE. BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE LACK OF INTROSPECTION

[fox-guardian]

all i can think about seeing you talk about cisn't danny is the "step 1: denial, step 2: danielle" meme

AJSHDAKLJDHAJKH

#fg's answers #asks #DAMN DANIELLE. BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE LACK OF INTROSPECTION #cursing #in my own tags

[a-wonderingmind]

peggysous week, day 1

Also on ao3 - here! (and tagging @peggysousweek!)

Without further ado (partly because it's real late here and I have to be awake at a decent human time tomorrow), I present to you at a closer distance!

“Shut the door behind you, don’t want to let the cold in,”

“How did we end up here, five miles outside the ass end of New Jersey, anyway, Peggy?”

“Because your hunch, which turned out to be right, keep in mind, meant that we have to find this stash before they do, and we just happened to drive into the worst snowstorm in over a decade - oh good, there’s a fireplace; could you see if there’s some wood around?”

“Now, where’s the kindling…”

“Got some!”

“Wonderful!”

“...”

“...”

“Not like that, Peggy, the newspaper first!”

“Alright, Boy Scout of America, you do it, if you’re so clever,”

“I actually was a Boy Scout, so I’d hold off on the sarcasm if I was you. Go see what we’ve got in the way of food and or beds.”

“As much as I want to disagree, Daniel, those are eminently practical steps. I want you to know I’m only doing this under duress,”

“If you say so, Carter,”

“Uhh… Daniel?”

“Yeah?”

“There's only one bed.”

“Okay, you take the -”

“It’s okay, we can both -”

“What?”

“What?”

“No, Peggy, it’s alright, I’ve slept on worse,”

“So have I, Daniel, and you’ve got your leg to take care of,”

“No, no, it’ll be fine for one night - “

“We’ll both be more use and less irritable tomorrow if you just give in, Daniel. It is the most practical solution, after all,”

“But - ”

“Oh, for the love of all things holy, if you're about to lean on propriety or honour or some nonsense like that, I’ll throw you out of this house myself, Daniel. Do you forget I was with the Howling Commandos?

“Peggy, I -”

“I insist, Daniel. It is the easiest solution, unless you want to be stoking the fire every couple of hours,”

“If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

“Alright,”

He couldn’t sleep. Despite the advantage of not having to deal with a throbbing leg in the morning, being this close to Peggy as she slept was not doing anything for the torch he was still carrying. He thought if he could just put some distance between them at work them he might be able to lick his wounds and grieve in peace; instead, just his luck, he landed in exactly the opposite situation. It’s not like he could get any closer.

Her gentle let-down had stung, of course, but she had carried on as if she was trying to move past it and not treat him any different from before; which he appreciated, because he wasn’t sure how he would have dealt with a cold shoulder. (The idea that she could become awkward didn’t even cross his mind. She knew herself, was, well, too much Peggy Carter for that.) She was kind of his only good friend at the SSR. Was the only one who didn’t underestimate him, for that matter. In fact, she had delivered a rather scathing and unfortunately accurate assessment of him during the Stark case. Another reason why he should get some distance, probably.

Oh, but it wasn’t going to be easy; he enjoyed working with her, matching minds with someone who treated him like an equal, someone who didn’t give a second thought to his competence. That was something that he had sorely missed with the other agents. At least if he was to run an office, he would have to be respected. He breathed out a sigh, watching the flyaway strands of her hair quiver in the moonlight, and closed his eyes.

She couldn’t sleep - she had thought being so close to Daniel wouldn’t be a problem; they were adults, after all. But her mind was whirring - with so many questions - all of which made her feel like an adolescent. Why hadn’t he asked her out again? Had it only been a friendly invitation? If so, this made the lack of subsequent invitations a mystery. She had certainly tried to be open and communicative. Did she even want it to be a romantic interest? A moment of introspection told her that she might, or at least that she was not closed off to the possibility. Daniel was kind, and gentle, and quietly brave. She admired him.

But good lord, if he wanted to express any intentions, he was taking his time about it. She tried to suppress a smile as she imagined how stunned he would be and how red he would go if she came straight out with it - though perhaps this was not the best way to go about it. Despite being confident in his work life, she could imagine he would be a deer in the headlights and decidedly less confident in his personal life.

Suddenly she was overcome with the urge to nestle into his side; damn his intentions, she wanted to see if this was something he was still open too, and she had the cover of being asleep if he decided to take offence to it in the morning. It felt, off, somehow, like she had reverted to a blushing young girl, but at least after this she’d know one way or the other - or she’d have one more piece of evidence for or against, anyway. It was incredibly silly, she chastised herself, but she found herself shifting in the blanket she had wrapped around herself (a concession to Daniel’s sense of propriety, after all) and rolled into his chest, pressing her forehead into his shoulder and letting out a long breath. He was quite warm, actually, and she could feel his body heat through the blanket...

Daniel’ entire being froze when she gently collided with his chest. His thoughts, which had been, finally, beginning to slow, came to an abrupt stop, and could only focus on the soft huff of Peggy getting settled again. He had jumped slightly when she rolled over, leaving his hand outstretched, elbow still on the lumpy mattress. The only place for it to rest where it wouldn’t hurt in the morning was on her head. So, despite everything, he placed his hand on her head. His thumb started to stroke her temple without conscious input, and the rest of him was screaming at him that this would not help. His mind drifted back to the offer he’d gotten a few days ago, a position in LA. It would be more responsibility, better pay, a chance to prove himself. Perhaps he should take it after all, give his bruised heart a chance to heal. Having situations like this continuing to crop up was the complete opposite of what he needed. He’d look into it tomorrow.

He almost wanted to whisper her name, make sure she was really asleep, that she didn’t mind being so close; but it stuck in his throat.

But perhaps he could allow himself this final intimacy.

Just this. Just this once.

#peggysous week 2021 #peggysous #my fic

[adriennescomingbacktolife]

(V)

“... it looks like you and Danny Levi, a once prominent star on the indies, were once married? Does he have any plans to come to Carnage as well, or do you have any connection to him still?” Belle Silva had texted Adrienne earlier that week about some of the questions she would like to ask. She had thought deep and had prepared extensively how she would answer. She didn’t know about the last one. In hindsight, she couldn’t blame an investigative journalist such as Belle to not ask the hard questions. In that moment however, Adrienne felt herself shrinking under the hot lights, cameras clicking away, and the collective shocked reaction of the people in the audience. Seconds later, the terrifying Mia Rayne had done her a favor. Being an unwilling participant in a confrontation she didn’t understand, she almost felt relieved to be pushed out of the way, painful as it was. But as the conflict continues, as she witnessed the courage of Belle and the righteous fury of Zephyr Quinn, Adrienne felt she could fight back, too. The rest of the night was a welcome distraction. Alex Winter in particular had proven to be a ruthless opponent. However, this was a team affair and his partner was less than compatible. She knew that Steve had become apathetic to the raging maelstrom of masculine fragility that Winter had become. Lashing out against everyone, he had made no allies. It was rather easy to target and isolate Party Boy at the end. Adrienne was lost on Insidious. They had decided to have some coming out party and had nearly infected the entire show. For someone like Nathaniel Grant to claim that he cared little about Matt Knox - sending out his indistinguishable lackeys to do his wet work on him seemed to say otherwise. Inadvertently, she had been caught up in her second conflict of the night. No one would set her aside like that again. Not Mia Rayne and not, what was it? Grant or whatever goofy name he was going by however wasn’t really the leader of Insidious or Empire of Blood or -- The lead tip of her pencil broke against the paper as she tried to sketch out the web of conspiracies involving Insidious in a study notebook, “Damn it.” Fortunately, no one was around to hear her potty mouth. Adrienne was back to reality. Ice cream sundaes, luxury hotel rooms, and nearly unlimited access to resources beneficial to the growth of her career sure were nice. But Baltimore was not her home. She felt a sense of dread when she had been welcomed back to Clearwater. Eventually, Adrienne just accepted that lonely nights in her apartment were the norm. She especially missed her new friends and was looking forward to a promised Zoom call soon. But tonight’s solitude was nothing a few glasses of wine couldn’t help. Digging through the junk drawer in the kitchen, she sought a way to continue her studies. Random batteries, loose coins, a half-used roll of electric tape, an empty prescription bottle of Wellbutrin and … finally, a purple cylinder shaped pencil sharpener. However, her mind wandered as she doodled a picture of Sah’ta Thor in a stylish Hugo Boss inspired uniform. Belle wasn’t the first one to bring up Danny. Matt Knox did, too. She could sense that he wanted to teach her husband a lesson. A lesson in what, she wondered. Matt was a good guy. He had realized the error of his ways and had asked her to be his partner in a future affair against Insidious. He had trained her as an equal. But most of all, she hadn’t been reduced to a sexual conquest. And something else had happened because all of the weird vibes of being a replacement daughter had dried up in that desert seemingly. But this idea of vengeance against Danny was misplaced. Adding the finishing touch of stink waves on the tribute to her future opponent, she tossed the pencil onto the coffee table and closed her notebook for the night. Danny Levi was a good man. Twisting the wedding band with a nervous energy, she tumbled head first into his world.     “San Jose was a joke.” Last March, the Levis had just returned from the California experiment. It had failed miserably when Magnificent Danny Levi had failed to gain any traction. The promoter had taken one look at Adrienne and said she could branch out on her own. It wasn’t the nearly dozen losses he had accrued. It wasn’t that the audience expressed complete apathy to his cheap tactics. It was because one person paid her a little attention. Said that she made people smile, especially the children who had attended her shows. There was a candid photo this promoter shared of Adrienne waving goofily to a kid behind Danny’s back. Danny had ripped the picture in two and had walked away from his committed appearances. These incidents weren’t new. For the past few years, Danny had transformed his body for the better. Through hard work, sure. But the anabolic steroids had made him prone to anger. Coupled with a complete lack of accountability, Adrienne was an easy target. That night. That night was no exception. Adrienne looked up from her copy of Night World, Vol. 1, “I liked it there. The people were nice.” It was just past midnight. It was the first night back and they hadn’t even bothered to unpack yet. Tomorrow would be a long day. Danny would have to go back on his hands and knees to Clearwater’s Best. And that meant - Adrienne would - Danny’s raised tone cut through her introspection, “The fuck are you going on about?” “I’m sorry,” she sat up in bed, clutching the book to her chest, “but please don’t start tonight. I just meant it was …” “Start tonight?” His voice was full of indignation as he kicked off the sheets and rolled to the edge of the bed. His back was massive and checkered with acne. Instinctively, she shrunk away from the hulking mass. It wasn’t like Danny had ever hurt her but sometimes she felt like he wanted to. Her words were quick and almost melded together as she tried to calm the situation down, “It was a long day, Danny. For the both of us. But look, I called Kaplan. It’s only been a month and I have a job with them still. And like-” “Shut up.” “Danny?” Standing up, he looked larger. Adrienne and Danny were actually the same height but in this rigid stance, with his fists clenched, he looked a giant. He turned around. His black boxers riding up high on his right thigh. His breathing was heavy. “You okay?” Muttering under his breath, “This was on you.” Perplexed, Adrienne shook her head. “Don’t you deny it. I should have known. You … you refuse that fucking prick Fairman one time and then suddenly my contract’s null and void,” his bare feet plodded on the carpet around to her side of the bed. Adrienne didn’t want to visit the proposal that sent her running out of that room earlier this year. Danny had got like this before, though. Feeling sorry for himself. This would pass. She readjusted the sheet he had kicked off. It was cold this evening. Her good pajamas were still in a garbage bag that was designated for travel laundry so she opted for a long black t-shirt and a pair of boxers herself. “And then out west,” he was closer, Adrienne could hear his teeth grating, “you wanna go and be a star without me?” “No,” her nails dug into the book’s cover, “Jael was just talking to me about where we could go.” “Don’t play coy with me, cunt.” Reacting with an urge to cry every time Danny called her this, Adrienne pleaded with her husband, “Danny, I’m not. I didn’t know.” Despite the poor lighting, she could see his pupils were very dilated. Spittle formed around the corners of his mouth as he spoke down to her, “It was all about you. Everywhere I go. Everything I try. No matter what. They only want you.” “Dann--” Her husband lunged at her, hand grasping around Adrienne’s throat. Instinctively, she clawed at his arms and kicked at him. The heel of her foot went right into his kneecap. He let an anguished cry mixed with a carnal fury she’d never heard even when he was in the ring. She rolled away from him, falling off the bed. Stumbling to her feet, Adrienne ran right into him and was pushed back onto the bed. Her legs repelled his advance, “Danny!! Stop--.” As she stood up, Danny was upon her again, incomprehensible gibberish poured from his mouth as he grappled with her. One hand inched closer and closer to her neck as over a decade of realized impotence had made Adrienne his enemy. The other tore long strands of her thick hair from her scalp. It was a colossal struggle. Strength versus Will. Danny’s foot faltered in a new hitch in the carpeting and he stumbled backwards. His massive frame broke through the dry wall of their bedroom. Something felt off. Rage drained from Danny’s expression as he clutched the left side of his chest, “Ade, call 9-1-1…” Concern for her own well being was replaced with a frantic realization that her husband had just collapsed in front of her. Adrienne ran out of the room, nearly tripping over their luggage in the hallway, to retrieve a cordless phone hanging in the kitchen. Fumbling the phone in her hands, she returned to Daniel. “Danny, it’s going to be alright,” she looked down at the phone. Pressed 9. Danny’s breathing was harsh and abbreviated. He looked up with her with pleading eyes. Pressed 1. He looked pathetic. Adrienne, a mere six feet away from Danny, knelt. Their eyes met. Her finger hovered over that last press. “Call,” he whispered. She wiped away at her eyes, steeling herself to a possibility. In the long stillness of the night, she watched this man with an odd curiosity. His breathing slowed. Dropping the phone beside her, Adrienne watched the light leave Danny’s eyes. His head lulled, mouth agape, and he didn’t respond to her, “Danny?” Danny’s gone.     “Death.” Adrienne Levi was in a graveyard with nice clean cut grass. Well, one for pets. She sat cross legged next to a little marker that read “Jimmy”. Alex Winter: Loser 4 Life was boldly proclaimed in black impact font on her white t-shirt. She had on black leggings and she may have used some of her win bonus to buy her that cute pair of white and purple New Balances at the mall. About to continue, she paused, she shuffled through some note cards she had hidden behind her back, “Sorry, I was trying to be all dramatic and I lost my train of thought.” Folding them up, Adrienne put the aides back away. “Alright,” taking in a deep breath, she exhaled, “I’d cut this out later but the trial of my video editor expired so this is what you get. This is like my third take, too. So yeah, death. My cat Jimmy died just before I started working at Carnage. My mom paid for this.” Chuckling, she persisted with this possible folly, “I have a point, trust me. I don’t know what Jimmy’s last moments were. I came home one day and he was just curled up in the closet. The vet said he was just an old stray and I’d given him the best year of his life in a long time. But I have to imagine it's hard to confront your own mortality. To realize that your time is truly finite.” Looking down at her hands briefly, she watched her thumb toy with the wedding band on her ring finger. “Nathaniel Grant.” Adrienne looked back up. She had propped the cellphone horizontally against a stone in front of her. She was hoping the beloved former pet parents of Bobo wouldn’t mind, “I know you go by another name but I get super giggly every time I say it. It’s like you’re Santa but you’re really new wave about it. But you’re a global superstar. You’ve won a lot of championships. All of that other stuff you talk about. The company. The 3 percent capita increases. Training children to fight wars in third world countries. I don’t know if any of that is true. It seems like you’re a Q LARPer. And if it’s true, it makes a real simple girl like me wonder why you are bothering with a company that runs shows out of one arena.” Adrienne gave a knowing smile. “Now, let’s talk about something real. I understand you’re also battling something terminal. You talked about it somewhere else but I can’t afford cable so I’ll never know. You’re still young. Happy belated birthday, by the way. And to many more in the coming years, because despite what I’m about to tell you, what you’re going through must be pretty heart wrenching for you and your family. But whatever you’re going through doesn’t excuse you’re doing here. To me. To Matt. To this whole company.” Adrienne didn’t want to keep on this subject. She didn’t want to be here but the other one wasn’t an option, “I’m sorry if that hurts your feelings but Nate, you’re kind of a jerk. That’s not to say that jerks deserve to suffer but you’re not just that. I can’t speak for your whole career but all I see out of you is cruelty. Through your words and actions. You expect everyone to stop and care about what you're doing at all times. Your little group ran in just after my first ever victory. I know you won’t care but I’ve worked so hard for that moment and you stole it from me.” Sitting up straight, Adrienne’s tone once more raised from her normal mousey quality, “And well, I’m not going to let you get away with that. I don’t care if you weren’t there. You’re in charge. Or Aaron. I don’t care! Insidious as a concept is morally bankrupt and it’s … just dumb. Matt has a lot of issues with you personally and I can’t profess to understand but in my short time working with him, it’s clear that you’re in the wrong. So here’s what I’m going to do. I want a do over and my first victory by myself, it’s going to be against you, guy with a dozen cheesy nicknames. And then at the next big show, hold on, Matt just told me this the other day…” Snatching a notecard back, she found what was looking for. “We Are Relentless … or WAR? Oh, okay, well there, Matt and I are going to take out your flavorless goons. Nate, you’re just going to have to come to terms that nobody outside of your group gives a rat’s butt about what you’re preaching. And with your limited time left on this Earth, I recommend you try and figure out that there is more to humanity than being a prick to everyone you meet. Otherwise, your last moments are going to be pretty pathetic.” And of course, the recording didn’t just stop, “Siri, stop recording.” Siri wasn’t listening. “Darn it, okay, Just pretend it ended a few seconds ago,” she crawled towards the camera. The feed cut off as her palm enveloped the lens.    

[jf3co]

I honestly forget what year it was - we would play around in tunnels, drainage tunnels, that were being laid down as part of new housing developments where once stood farms somewhere outside the city.  It was gen-two "white flight" for the older cities, typically behind the original trend, and we got to graduate from the city to the suburbs; we were used to the city. The suburbs were foreign to us. 

We saw the movie Aliens. We had plastic guns. And duct tape. And candles. And we'd tape the guns together to create modified weaponry. We taped candles to the walls of the tunnels. The rest you can figure out for yourself - crawling through tunnels underneath construction sites. But, it stands to mention, these were 'clean' tunnels - they were brand new; just manufactured and nothing to worry about. No chance for the old to creep in. No chance for history and the unknown. We know where they came from and why they were there. Just a group of young children entertaining themselves; being boys. 

Speaking of generations - we lived in the 1st generation suburbs, the Levittown subdivisions. These were slightly older and established. They had, at least, some history; however unflattering. 

The farms and woods were a different story. They had wonderful history. Like the kind of history that dated back to the beginning of America. And no small shit either - literally The Beginning of the United States of America started right here. So occasionally we'd come across some old shit in our exploring. 

We were trolling through the woods with our BB guns when I shot a squirrel… I had no idea my aim would be that good… it was very far away - on a tree.  But I shot him, gut shot.  And when I found the thing it was on its' back and doing a half sit-up wheezing at me like "why did you shoot me, asshole?" with each little gut-shot squirrel breath it took: "why did you shoot me, asshole?"  I had to make a big to-do about 'putting it out of its' misery'. I never shot anything after that again ever - intentionally, that is, as I know someone who would disagree that has the scars to prove it. But I do fuck up some fish fishing; weird right? My evolutionary empathy only goes back so far. 

It was during one of these woodsy explorations that we came across what we affectionately refer to now as "The Tunnel"… thee… as in 'the tunnel to end all tunnels’. Somewhere deep in the woods where little light permeated we stumbled across it while ankle deep in mushy skunk cabbage. Sunlight filtered through only slightly like some accusatory fingers of angels to remind an insect why they became an insect. Cool despite the obvious haze of humidity. And deathly silent. The tunnel gurgled a parched trickle of water down a single green mossy strip; hardly the deluge this tunnel was designed for. This tunnel could comfortably carry a child on a water slide ride. Apparently for drainage. It's design of brick. Cement worn away from age and capricious deep-woods construction. 

Billy was the first to approach. He crouched down low to the mouth of the tunnel: "Hello!" - "HelllllooOOOooo" - "Hey guys, check out this echo!" Billy turned towards us excitedly then back again: "ECHO, Echo, echo…" - "Doo Bee Doo Bee Doo" 

Then BAM! It hit him. It being this giant green, scaly flash of teeth, bug eyes and prehensile arms. It reared out from the entrance.  And the thing drags Billy straight into the tunnel! We never saw Billy again. But that was okay to us - Billy was a dick. 

There has never been a time that I have run for so long and so hard in my entire life. And I guarantee you there never will be again. It will kill me next time. I'm old. My heart will explode. 

As for Billy, well that was a whole another story. It was foreign for us to conceive that someone would grieve for him, being such the dickwad he was. And we even laughed at the thought of his parent's sitting at home blubbering about him missing and presumed dead. But, sure enough, everyone did care. We made the news. Big time. Cops. Investigations. Lie detectors. Spiritual mediums. Psychics. And the shells of Billy's parents that seemed to subsist only on PBR and Kools anymore. It all eventually passed after a few months. We surely didn't want to go to the tunnel again. Dogs could not find it. Nor trackers. To everyone Billy was dead; probably raped to death by a hobo then pickled in his own juices in a 55-gallon drum behind a rail shed. End of story.

  But that wasn't the interesting thing - the whole random comically weird green monster in an old abandoned drain pipe followed by the media sensation surrounding the senseless loss of a young boy and one town's failure to yet again prevent much less remedy or find closure to such an event - no, the interesting thing is that we spent some time afterwards building a robot; yes.

  Our robot was not one that worked on logic, per se, but that operated on an advanced oscillating wave core feedback loop. The core establishes a waveform, a pattern, feedback from the sensory inputs - any change to the input establishes a new pattern which in turn produces a different output. No memory. No hard drive. All it was, a little burning flame going around a bumpy track. And our robot had many tracks; we covered the delta, theta, alpha, beta and gamma frequencies - innumerable waveforms to accommodate what we thought would be all feedback from the sensors - with one mission: find Billy. And that flame went near light speed. One would guess we did feel a little bad after all - albeit our sense-of-urgency and approach being a bit underdeveloped - but I promise you that guess would be wrong. 

We gave our robot a few "search and rescue" trial runs where one of us would hide in a confined environment and we'd send the robot in after us… our special robot designed with one heart-filled mission in mind found us every time. Then day came to send the robot into the tunnel… albeit way too late - to be honest our childhood fascination was more with seeing a mangled, mutilated, decayed body than to actually rescue that rotten dickhead, Billy.

  We slowly made our way through the woods to the place of the cool, misty ferns. We silently hoped that with the right intent and desired lack of scrutiny and oversight, we’d happen upon the tunnel once more. And it did. So, somewhere slightly outside our guesstimated reach of the scaly, green monster (should it return… but hey, what was the lifespan on these things anyway? I mean, living outside is a tough life) we began to unpack the robot’s components from a duffel bag. We assembled each module in silence, finishing by firing up each oscillating core until they achieved status quo for the environment surrounding. Then we pointed our robot at the mouth of the tunnel and turned it loose. The robot almost seemed to hesitate, as if it was in possession of that human frailty of self-preservation - but it was only a momentary difficulty finding purchase on slimy, old bricks. It disappeared into the darkness. 

After an eternity, we heard the slow, labored scraping of robot getting closer as it echoed through the tunnel towards the entrance.  The robot emerged no worse for wear and deliberately uprighted itself. No corpse.  No nothing.  But it was changed. A dumb robot now spouting some milky, new-aged bullshit: "How are you today?  I am a rocking robot.  Do you understand?"  Then it shut down until prodded again, at which point it would respond in the same measured, metallic pentameter: "How would you like to… plumb my deep limitlessness… holding my soul's hand?"  Another prod: "Robots typically… perform their programmed functions... I just want a hug." 

We looked at each other quizzically. A switch must’ve got flipped somewhere. This time I poked it with a log: "There's not much to do... when you are a robot who... only speaks haiku!" 

A switch indeed flipped. We let out guttural cries of rage. "Haikus have to be about nature, motherfucker!" I shouted as I raised a log over my head and threw it like one would a battle-ax. The log cartwheeled in a slow-motion action-packed 3D arc and scored a big hit square between the robots ocular sensor array. Sparks. A few sizzled snaps. A tinny despairing emission redolent with betrayal as it fell to its’ robot knees. 

Then we destroyed the damn thing. With extreme prejudice, mind you. So much so that one would question with our pronounced level of intensity and extreme duration, did we actually program it to feel pain? Otherwise it was just for our own wasted edification. 

Anyway, years later I met a girl named Chelsea during a game of Whiz Boing while new at college. And I wanted so much to fingerbang her. I don't know why I just told you that. Maybe I am too high. Maybe I just wanted to use “fingerbang” in a sentence. I think it's because I am thinking about Billy again. I've lived. I've lied. I've hurt people. Intentionally and unintentionally. And I've done so under the presumption that they should never ever find out. And on nights like these, when I am feeling introspective - I wonder about the choices denied Billy. Maybe we never thought he was a dick. Its just that we never asked to be thrust into that situation. Beyond our experience. To have him eaten by a monster. 

It's times like these I want to return to the scene of the robot destruction and conjure each molecule of our destroyed robot, lift them to the air and repair and restore every part and connection, molecule by molecule. If only to have it function. For one moment. Then I could ask why? Why do I carry the universe in my atoms? Why do I carry the ocean in my blood? Why is there an evolutionary necessity to stop functioning because there is no sun to produce photosynthesis at night still in my brain even though we don't run on chlorophyll? 

Time for bed now. Time to drift away. But I can’t. I wake up and think back to a girl named Chelsea, my last love. And a girl named Danielle, my first love. Chelsea I wanted to fingerbang in the beer soaked basement of some frat house. Danielle I meet on the beach as a child, when I was a little blonde toe head with a sprained ankle that hobbled around. We dug tunnels under the sand. And when our hands met, we held them there, under the sand. It was cold, wet, primordial, like the original spark of life. Closer to fingerbanging then fingerbanging itself.

#The Drain Pipe #writing #stuff #short stories #author #metafiction