The One That Got Away

/ C. R. Dedow / Leave a comment

The day started off requesting nothing extra of me. I had a late breakfast, worked for a few hours then met up with a friend to grab evening drinks. One led to two, two led to three and the ball officially started rolling. Ever had a night where you just knew it was going to be good? This was one of those nights. I felt like I had just downed Felix Felicis from Harry Potter and was ready to conquer the town.

Liquor coat was on and we were off to the next bar. As we arrived my friend was hit up by a girl who was randomly in town with three of her friends. A quick thanks to the big guy upstairs followed by another drink led us to officially hitting drunk status. Zero fucks were being given as we mingled with random groups around the bar and then in walked the girls we were waiting for. As we began talking one clearly seemed to be attracted to my friend, the second was being hesitant to jump into the conversation, the third was scanning the room for something better to do, and the last girl appeared that she was being forced into an evening that was not something she would normally choose to do.

No matter. I love engaging people and making them feel more at home so I began to drift the conversation in directions where everyone felt they would want to participate. As the mood of the group started to improve and a few more drinks were had we decided to head to a club.

On the walk I started to talk more to the shy girl of the group and it turned out she wasn’t actually that shy. She quickly divulged that she had been out the night before and was just waiting for the red bull to kick in. It had and she quickly became the most out going of the bunch. We began to hit it off on our walk and then arrived at the club to find it was already near capacity and people were waiting to get in. The alpha of the group that had seemed she didn’t want to be at the bar earlier led her girls to the front of the crowd and convinced the bouncer to let them in. She didn’t even try to get my friend and me in. The girl I had been mainly talking with came back around to the waist-high fence and apologized and told me to find her when I got in. I definitely wanted to see how this played out so my friend and I began chatting up one of the workers at an exit. After some small talk we casually asked what it’d take to get us in tonight without having to wait.

“A $100 a head,” he cooly responded.

My friend and I look at each other wide eyed. A casual Saturday outing doesn’t normally warrant this type of cash drop, but we were both sexually charged and wanted to end the night on a high note. At that price though one could logically make the case for a hooker. It’s a sure thing and you don’t have to wait all night wondering what if.

Neither option was really my style though so I decided to go for option three: hop the fence and hope no one sees me. based on a five-minute scan of the crowd it appeared there were at least six doormen/bouncers that I could spot. I wondered how they justified needing to have that many workers to keep the people at bay while I tried to execute on my plan. My friend started to step away trying to grease another bouncer for a lesser rate and I began watching the eyes of all of the workers hoping for an opportune moment. My heart started pounding faster as if I was a kid sneaking out of his house at night right from underneath his parents’ noses. At a point when it seemed all of the workers were occupied with someone else I hopped over the fence in one clean motion. The metal had rattled a little bit making an unusual noise amongst what had only been a sea of voices so I gave a slightly frightened scan of my surroundings to see if anyone had noticed.

After being congratulated by people inside the club for my rogue actions and realizing no worker was any the wiser an evil grin began to creap across my face. I looked back at my friend who had heard the sound of the fence and knew immmediatley what had happened. After he scanned the crowd as well and realized that no worker had seen me he looked back in my direction and mouthed, “You mother fucker.”

The grin had officially taken over my face as I turned around to enter into the club. The music slowly began to surround me with the bass vibrating through my entire body. As I moved farther and farther into the club I could see everyone was smiling and bottles were spread out on numerous tables. The night was still young, but unfortunately being the good person that I am it didn’t sit well with me that my friend was still outside. Because of this I decided to graciously leave the club and meet back up with him. That and I had realized the girls we wanted had made their way into VIP.  Security seemed a little tighter around the entrance and they also looked like they had zero fucks to give as well. My lips ended up getting action from a carne asada burrito instead.

Still winning.

Trey: bevery hills earth day stories and crafts

/ C. R. Dedow / Leave a comment

Sunday my mom felt obligated to take me to the library. I read enough as it is on my own, but the Beverly Hills Public Library was having an Earth Day event with stories and crafts for kids. I hate being categorized as a kid. It’s an automatic declassification of my intelligence. And the library needs to pump the breaks on the earth day celebration. it’s not happening until April 22nd. If they wanted it to be an entire week then they would have done so. They being I have no idea, but I’m hoping they understand the concept of days and weeks.

Anyway, my mom convinced me to go to the event so we can spend some time with each other. She’d clearly forgotten that we live under the same roof and that I physically rely on her to survive. I’m in the process of trying to change that with starting my own investments, but it’s difficult when you have no money and people wouldn’t take your money anyway from you to invest because you’re five. I’m looking into an age discrimination lawsuit, but I currently don’t have the funds for a lawyer. Putting that on the back burner.

Luckily for my mom, I’m really into fairy tales and folklore. Shit gets me excited about life. Don’t know why since it’s not real, but it gets me thinking that I can try to do something unimaginable to most. Part of the benefits of being five. My sole hasn’t been crushed by the outside world yet as my dad would have me to believe. He’s working constantly and always staring at screens showcasing information about the world markets.  He does something with currencies and we’ll leave it at that.

Enough rambling. We arrive at the farmers market where the event is taking place. I’ve never seen so many people excited over vegetables in my life. Girls’ eyes are lighting up as they sniff the various fruits. It’s as if they have confused them for flowers. I’m convinced they’ve all lost their minds until I see an older gentleman with a full white beard with a bald head selling berries. He had just wiped sweat from his forehead with a cloth that he had pulled from his pocket after just hanging a sign in front of his table. The sign was made out of wood and a metal chain with painted letters reading, CHOCOLATE COVERED STRAWBERRIES. My eyes widened as my mouth salivated with excitement.

I blocked the rest of the world out as my eyes fixated on the sign. I began to run toward it and was immediately whip-lashed backward falling on my ass. Fucking stupid child leash. I’m five which I’ll be the first to admit is pretty young for most things. But a child leash? Are you fucking kidding me? At max, you could be four, but I wouldn’t wish this upon even my worst enemy (Steve, that piece of shit).

I looked up at my mother who had now been hovering over me. I gave her my patented death stare that could make a baby cry.

“Oh, c’mon Trey. We’re going to be late for the reading. We can get you some berries afterward.”

I wasn’t happy, but I bottled up my temper and wiped the dirt off my shirt and pants. I followed her closely into the reading area not wanting to be jerked around again due to my own wondering eyes.

As the reading began it dawned on me. Every story they were going to read to me and every craft I was about to be forced to do was going to be focused around the environment. This is one of the few times I hated being right. For criminy sake, one story tried to bring plants to life just so they could share their feelings with humans about the pollution they’re causing. I recycle. I only write things down digitally. I drink from a reusable cup. I don’t need this mind-numbing narrative.

After the stories are done I created the fasted craft in my life gluing cotton balls down as clouds and taking a blue crayon against the paper around them drawing in the sky. Underneath the clouds I drew a picture of me running to a pile of strawberries drizzled in chocolate politely hinting to my mother that I was about to lose it.

She complimented my artwork as she hugged me tightly. I’m not sure why. It was clearly the ugliest piece of shit on this arts and crafts table and there were two-year-olds drawing. I said nothing as she embraced me in what I could only assume were her loving arms. After that, she finally allowed us to leave and get my berries with chocolate goodness.

As we walked toward the farmers market I saw from a distance the old man had already begun to pack up his area. His wooden sign still hung in the front, but it had been overturned showing a different message. SOLD OUT. I ran toward the man in hopes that he might have even one berry left and am immediately whiplashed back on to my ass hitting my head on the ground.

Fuck my life.

Doors: A Christmas Day Dilemma

/ C. R. Dedow / Leave a comment

First Christmas as a married couple. Who’s family do you visit over the holidays? As I ponder this question I unpack the gifts out of the trunk and glance over at the red brick house I’m about to walk through.

Christmas has been one of my favorite days of the year since I was a child. Spending time with family, eating too much and generally getting more than I deserved in gifts was all I wanted. The older you get however the more reality sets in. The gifts slowly begin to go away. You need to actually watch what you eat (especially thanks to the Mrs.) and then you’re left with just family. I’m a young man of 28 and newly married and now have the consistent pleasure of every year deciding which family we should be with over the Christmas holiday. Mine or hers.

Sophie and I have been together for six years now including our short time married to each other. This isn’t the first Christmas we’ve had to choose where to go to for the holidays. We’ve been rotating between our parents every year since we’ve been together. Last year we went to hers. I’m shocked to realize though that I already selfishly want to visit my own family over the holidays. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love her parents. They’re great. But having gone through years of test runs, I think it’s safe to assume my family is just more fun. God forbid you include my extended family and it no longer becomes even a noteworthy competition.

After we close the car doors we begin to make our way to the front door. Looking at the house I can see a candle lit in each window while the lights hung on the outside of the house are still visible even in the daytime. My mind starts to wonder about the dinner stretched out on the kitchen counter inside. After opening gifts at my parents house, we’d always drive over to my aunt’s afterward for a Christmas feast. Turkey, ham, seven layer salad, and best of all warm cheesy potatoes. My aunt had been making cheesy potatoes since before I can remember. It became a time-honored Christmas tradition to fight over who was able to get seconds or thirds of this crack filled delight. As my mouth salivated in anticipation of what my taste buds would get to experience the front door opened and I was quickly brought back down to earth.

“Merry Christmas John! Merry Christmas Judy!” I said to Sophie’s parents.

Regular potatoes it is then.

Trey : ice cream

/ C. R. Dedow / Leave a comment

My parents went away last weekend and stuck me with my sister. She was almost as angry as I was being forced to be with her. Why would I want to hang out with our parent’s mistake while she’s back on college spring break? She’s 18 and has no concept of what is cool anymore. I mean, I’m five so I sort of understand how I need a babysitter. But still. All I wanted was to go to my swim practice Saturday like usual and get my ice cream cone. Mom always rewards me with one if I play nice with the other kids. Bribing a five-year old… pathetic. Works though. Probably the only time I even try to play nice. If she gave me ice cream the other days of the week I probably wouldn’t have to go see Jeanine, my couch doctor, every damn week.

Anyway my sister Emily or M for short (because she’s not supposed to exist), didn’t take me to swim practice like I was supposed to go to because she wanted to stay at our house with her friends and lay by the pool. Fine. But I still wanted my fucking ice cream. She promised she’d bring some when she went to the store. All she brought back was a house full of friends, frozen pizzas, beer, ice, and coffee.

“Where’s my ice cream?” I tried to say it nicely to M. Really I did. But she was too stupid. She apologized, but all I heard was blah blah blah. Something about her friend Kimi struggling from the night before and needing coffee and food to sober her up. Really?

What. The. Fuck.

One of her dull-witted friends in a leaf tee shirt said they actually did bring back ice cream. Then he took a cup of ice and poured cream into it. His future flashed before me. I saw him on a street corner with a large cardboard sign begging for spare change.

Jeanine would have told me, “Breathe deeply.” Instead, I threw the drink in his goofy face and kicked him in the balls. Temporarily blinded by the fake ice cream, he keeled over. I felt instantly better.

My sister sent me to my room. But before I traveled that dark path, I explained that I had only her interests at heart. “You friends are the definition of losers.” I went on to prove that theory for a few good minutes. Her boyfriend, Steve, the one that I brought to his knees, has at best a Formica counter, french fries and large sodas in his future. He tried to grow a beard but didn’t have enough facial hair. He wears his hair long and wrapped in a nest on his head. My sister said it was some dumb new thing called a man bun. The only type of buns that should be allowed are ones that start with cinna in front of it. I couldn’t even have those ones though that my mom had left for me because my sister’s stupid friends had eaten them all after smoking out of that damn pipe that they love so much. Laying on my bed I tried to play games on my phone, but I was too angry. I threw my phone at the wall which made me relax a little and I eventually fell asleep on top of my sheets. Still without ice cream for solace.

Doors: meeting the parents

/ C. R. Dedow / Leave a comment

The car slowly creeps to a halt and my heart begins to quicken its pace. Wiping away the fog from my breath that has covered the car window I notice the 1987 address above the door. I was supposed to now walk through though it in order to meet my boyfriend’s parents for the first time. The emerald green door outlined with white trim matched the fresh snowfall from the previous night. On the door lies a wreath while two golden bells hang from the door handle.

I’m rarely ever nervous in my life. Why am I nervous now? This would be a lot easier had Matt been walking in with me to introduce his parents instead of coming in a day later. I don’t even know what to say. What are the family members’ names again? Karen, that’s his mother. Bill, father, and… Stephanie? Yeeeeah Stephanie. That’s right. Little sister who I’ve met already four times so I don’t know why I just now almost forgot here name.

Steph loves me though so she’ll help me out with meeting the rest of the family. Of course, I’m showing up and the extended family is already here too. Shit, I really hope I don’t make an ass out of myself.

“Excuse me, Carol?” politely asks the driver.

“Yes?” I replied.

“This is the right address correct?” trying to hint that this was normally when passengers exited the car.

“Shit! I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” while opening the door to my right. “Merry Christmas,” I murmur while I gaze at the house I was about to enter. Having shut the door behind me, the driver began to pull away.

“Shit! Fuck! Wait! Wait!” I scream while waving my hands frantically running after the car before It turns around the corner. The relieving sight of break lights confirms that the driver has caught my flailing body in his review mirror.

He steps out of the car and pops the trunk to expose the Christmas presents I had almost forgotten. He apologized for forgetting that they were in the trunk even though I had clearly done the same thing. After we awkwardly say goodbye again I slowly walk back down the snow-covered street realizing for the first time that my UGGS I am wearing have not been waterproofed before the trip. Things one doesn’t think of living in Southern California.

I step off of the street onto the neatly paved walkway that has only maybe an hours worth of flurries covering it. Deadlocking my gaze on the door ahead, I can hear it starting to be unlocked. Shit. They saw me. Ok game time. As I straighten out my sweater underneath my coat I manage to find the only spot of black ice on the walkway throwing feet up into the air landing flat on my back while my bags of presents go flying. The wind is knocked out of me.

“Oh heavens. Bill, get out here,” I can only assume is Karen. “Hunny are you alright?” she says leaning over me.

“Merry Christmas,” I struggle to say with what air I had left.

Merry fucking Christmas.