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Tuck Off A Mark -*- Copyright 2007 by Ellen Hayes.

Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual
persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when
used for satirical purposes.

This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and
possibly sex.  If you are legally not allowed to read materials
containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading
this.  I am not responsible.
Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it
in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally
allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish,
state, and country.

All rights reserved.  See the bottom for distribution rights.


Tuck Off A Mark


***
15:54 14 Nov

     "Hey, is Miz Parker there?" Mike asked.
     "What?  Why?  No," I decided, a little late.  Whatever he wanted to
talk to her about, it had to be bad.  *Oh shit, he'll see her tonight,*
I realized, too late to call things off.
     "Okay, I'll see her tonight, I guess," he said, confirming my worst
fears.
     "Why?"
     "You need a day off," he said.
     "Yeah and?  Oh no, you f-  Don't you even THINK about it!" I warned
him.
     "Tuck-"
     "I need the money, and this place is NOT the probl-"
     "But what if you could get a day off from school, too?" Mike asked.
     "What?  I already have too much to make up already!"
     "Make up?  I thought you did that every day?"
     I errored until I caught the 'joke'.  Then I ignored it because it
was stupid.  "Remember I have to go in Saturdays to get the hours for
cosmetology?"  *There's gotta be a shorter-*
     "What if you took the rest of the day off?  Just came in one
morning, and then went home?"
     "Are you n-"
     "Your mom said she would go for it."
     "She WHAT?"
     "Valerie?"
     "Uh.  Hold," I told Mike, and removed the phone from my face.  "Yes
ma'am?"
     Miz Parker asked, "Is everything okay?"
     "Um... yeah, I guess so.  Mike's having an idea.  This is NOT one
of his better ones," I grumbled.  "Did you need something?" I hoped,
because I could use that to get off the phone.
     "No," she said, crushing my hopes, "I just wondered if, I mean,
what was going on.  This isn't about tonight, is it?"
     "No..."  I shook my head when I was more sure about it.  "Something
else."
     "Well, okay," she said, like it wasn't but she was unable to argue
about it for some reason.  I don't know why; my mom never let not having
a reason slow her down.
     I watched her walk back into the dining area, and sighed.  "Okay,
back," I finally admitted to Mike.
     "Next week would be good," Mike continued.  "Before Thanksgiving."
     "What?  That's like a week away?!"
     "Two weeks," he corrected.
     *And not like they're-*
     "Not like they're holidays for you," he said, modeming my thoughts.
"Because you're gonna be doing whatever you couldn't con us into doing
on Sunday."  I wanted to object to the word 'con' but I couldn't quite
manage.  "And cooking even harder...  Plus all the relatives, and you've
mentioned them before."
     "Wh- oh."  One of the years I'd run away to Mike's house during the
Thanksgiving holiday, no doubt.  Probably all of them.  *Damned patterns,
trip you up and give you away every-*
     "So why not this week?" he pressed.  "Tuesday or something?"
     "Because I don't WANT TO."
     "Ehhhh," he said, like he didn't care what I wanted, he was gonna
give it to me.  "Your mom thinks it's a good idea, and I called Doc
Treble about it, an-"
     "Oh..."  I slammed the phone down so hard I thought I might have
broken it.  I hoped, anyway.

***
16:01 14 Nov

     "What are you doing?" Ricky asked, from by the back door, catching
me during a quiet moment.
     I sighed as I rebalanced into a static position.  I was breathing
hard, but I hadn't really hurt myself too much, judging from the pain
level.  "I'm just mad...  Or I was."  Now I was mostly tired.  I hadn't
noticed before...
     "Were you mad at the fence?"  He sounded about as disbelieving as
he should have about that.
     "No, but if I kick the fence, or something, I don't get into
trouble like I would if I kicked..."  Mike.  I'd broken the fence in a
couple of places, though it wasn't glaringly obvious from the house, I
thought.  I hoped.  "What I'm mad at."
     "Oh."  I started to unpause the process when he asked, "You're not
mad at me, are you?"
     "Huh?"  I looked over at him, and he didn't seem quite scared; more
wary, like he'd imagined it might be possible and wanted to make sure,
while he was way out of my range just in case.  *Gettin' smart...*
"No," I said, trying to sound believable, because it was true.  "No,
I'm...  I'm mad at Mike.  The Chinese guy?"
     "The one you said was your brother?" he remembered.
     "He IS-"  I didn't need to get mad about that, and I tried really
hard not to.  "He's interfering with my life, right now.  He wants me to
take a day off and stuff, stay home..."
     "And like not come here?  Why?"
     "BE-"  I cut myself off and shook my head.  "Because he's an idiot,
is why," I said.  "I LIKE it here, with you and Stella..."  He made a
face at that.  "Yeah, but she's better than those dorks at school, isn't
she?  Except don't say dorks in front of your parents," I remembered,
far too late.
     "Why not?"
     I should've realized he'd ask that.  "Um... because it's a word,
not polite, that refers-  I mean, a dork is a slang term for a penis.
And so if you call someone that...  It's the sort of thing some parents
get mad about.  So don't do it."
     "Like, um..."
     "Like a lot of words you've heard before but I won't say THEM in
front of you either," I grinned, because it WAS stupid.  "Don't ask me
why it's more okay to say them when you're older but not when you're
your age.  It just is," I said, to stop him from complaining that it was
stupid.  I hoped.
     This time it worked, though I could see it hovering over his head.
     "The world is sometimes very stupid, for no reason," I told him, in
case he hadn't known that yet.
     "Why?" he demanded, like he'd known this already but hadn't found
someone to explain the reason yet.
     Not like I could.  "Uh.  I don't know, it just is.  I think that's
bigger than I want to think about, right now," I told him.  "Howsabout
we go inside?"
     "Are you done being mad?  Or kicking the fence or whatever?"
     "I think so...  At least for now."  I sighed, because I really did
have to call Mike back... for some reason.

***
16:07 14 Nov

     "Done beating the pole?"  That was what Mom did, except she didn't
beat it, she went at it with an axe.  Two-handed axe.  We didn't bother
her when she did, and we replaced the pole every year or so.  And, the
odd thing was, no one ever believed us if we mentioned it.
     "Kicking their fence.  Shut up about the day off thing.  I needed
to know, what you and Jill wanted to do about supper.  Tonight."
     "Um," he said, which told me I was right in calling him.  "When
are-"
     "About as soon as Mister Parker gets home, and he's supposed to be
leaving work early today," I told him.  "RSN."
     "Um.  And Jill's not, that I know of," Mike said.
     "So... what do we do?"
     "I call Jill, since I have her phone number, coordinate, and call
you back.  Right?"
     "Right.  Out."
     He hung up before I could.
     Pause.
     This was undoubtedly going to be an interesting evening.  I could
feel the signs already.

***
16:11 14 Nov

     The phone rang, and I thought about ripping it loose and throwing
it into the pool.  Except there was a cover over it now; it would just
bounce.
     It rang again, before I could unlock myself.  I managed before it
rang a third time, though, and also managed not to accidentally remove
the phone.  "Yo," I sighed.
     "Get this," Mike said, "she TOOK THE DAY OFF."
     "Why w-  Wait, Jill?  She never does that," I realized.  I
remembered I'd had to pay her one day to do it.
     "I know," Mike said, sounding half smug and half worried.  He
should be worried; changes in the tatters of plans I had left couldn't
be good at this point.  And I tended to be hasty and short-sighted in my
reactions when I got too stressed.  Like, oh, like I'd been about ten
minutes ago.
     "So," he said after a pause, "when were you guys going to dinner?
And where?"

***
16:13 14 Nov

     "Miz Parker, don't look at me like that, I didn't even know until
just now, and neither did Mike until just before he called back."
     She continued to frown, but not quite at me, not the same way.
Stella complained.  Miz Parker asked, "Well, did they want to go out
with US?"
     "I hope not," I let out before I could transform it into a good
lie.  "Um..."  She was giving me a different look, before she aimed a
spoon into Stella's mouth again.  "I'm mad at Mike right now for messing
with my life, so I don't want to see him for a while.  A-NY-WAY," I
emphasized in a faint hope I could get her to change the subject.  "When
was Mister Parker getting home?"
     "Umm," she said as she looked around for a clock.  "He said he'd
try to get home about four thirty, so..."
     "Fifteen minutes," I answered.  "You sure you don't want me to feed
Stella?  Then you could talk to Mike."
     She smiled at me, and Stella complained again and grabbed for Miz
Parker's hand.  "No, I think I'd better feed her..."

***
16:16 14 Nov

     "Because she's got enough for her motorcycle, she's getting it this
weekend, with Debbie to help bargain," which was actually quite a clever
move.  "And she wants to celebrate."
     "Oh."  Oh, well, it was only dinner, and there would be witnesses
to restrain me from acting rashly, I was sure.  Damnit.  "Is she going
to be happy enough that I have to kill her?"
     "I don't think so.  I'll warn her," Mike promised.
     "Would you?"

***
16:36 14 Nov

     "I want to go with Valerie!" Ricky demanded.
     Everyone looked at him.
     "She's FUN!" he insisted.
     Then the adult Parkers looked at me.
     *I want this job, right?* I told myself.
     "I can take him," I admitted, and smiled, and endured the
pleadings he began throwing at his parents.  I had to take my car,
because I didn't want to wait for Mike and Jill to pick me up, and I did
NOT want to ride with all four of the Parkers; I'd be stuck in the back
seat with child care duties, plus there would be no good way for me to
escape on my own.  If I needed to.  But I might need to.  I felt like I
might need to.  "Oh, wait," I said to Ricky, "bring your chess set."  It
was magnetic-base pieces on a dinky (though I didn't think Dinky had
made it) metal folding board; just the thing for the long wait we were
gonna have, it being Friday night.

***
16:42 14 Nov

     "And no Stella!" Ricky said with a sort of satisfied disgust, or
disgusted satisfaction, when he slammed the car door shut.
     "Amen," I agreed, and started the car.  "Seat belt," I reminded
him.  "And don't let me forget the laptop, okay?  I don't want to leave
it in a cold car."  Or in a car.
     "Did you turn the heater on?"
     "I will when it warms up a bit."
     "Why don't you turn it on nowww?" he whined.
     I sighed.  "Because it's not warm yet, an-"
     "Yes it is!"

***
17:13 14 Nov

     "No, this is fine," I said, hoping that it was.  I did have SOME
money, but I wasn't sure how much Mike had, or how much Jill had -
though if she had enough for a cycle-  *But she wants to buy the cycle,
not dinner,* I interrupted myself.  *But she said she wanted to come,* I
argued.
     *Shut up!* I ordered.  I didn't need a mutiny at this point; I
needed to assert control.
     I hoped I was dressed okay.  I'd dressed more for bowling than a
steakhouse; I hoped I wasn't going to be too out of place, but it seemed
like most of the people were in suits and so forth.
     Then I checked my watch.  *Ahah...*  Most of them must've come here
from work.  I looked for a bit, as Mr. Parker arranged a table or two,
and the crowd at the bar confirmed my guess; it was a LARGE crowd, and
all of them were in office drag.
     *Boy _I_ could use a drink...*  I sighed.  Doing that in public
would have to wait a few more years... or I'd have to get a good fake
ID.  Which might not be impos-
     "Valerie," Mr. Parker said at me, again I realized.
     "Oh, sorry," I apologized.
     "We'll have to wait for a table, but I got two for us and your
friends," he said.
     "Okay, thanks!"
     "I wanna sit with them!" Ricky piped up.  "Please please can I?"
     "Uh, why don't we put two tables together?" I suggested, in the
hopes that this would be the most harmonious of choices.  Another
harmonious choice would be to disappear out of here; then everyone would
be united in being pissed off at me.
     *No, bad,* I told myself.
     "We could do that," Mr. Parker nodded, before turning to the
hostess to mention this to her.  I smiled and nodded; it was her
restaurant, in a sense, and I had a feeling a place like this would be
bitchier about the customers doing it themselves.
     "Why don't you want me to sit with you?" Ricky accused.
     "It's not..."  I looked around and spotted some clear space, where
I could squat and talk approximately into his ear, instead of yelling
from a couple of feet above him.  I pointed, and he came, and I
squatted.  "It's not that," I sort of lied.  "Your parents want this to
be a family thing, which means, YOUR family.  I don't really know why
they wanted me here, or why they let my friends come-"
     "'Cause you're cool!"
     "Yeah.  But the POINT is, it's YOUR family, and they want you to be
with THEM, not me and my friends.  So..."
     "Mannnnnnn," he complained.
     "Yeah, I know, but believe me, you'll look back on times like this
and wish you had it so good," I told him as I stood up.
     "What?  WHY?!"
     I huffed, then waited until the blood stopped sloshing before I
squatted again.  I don't know why I waited; it didn't make the pressure
surges any easier to take.  "Ricky... life gets harder as you get older,
and-"
     "No it does not!" he insisted firmly.
     I opened my mouth to argue with him, then stopped, and then shut my
mouth.  He wouldn't believe me if I told him, so why bother telling him?
And, come to think of it, I wouldn't have believed me either at his age.
So I stood up, waited for the surge to finish, then walked over to the
Parkers, who were standing around in the hallway to wait.

***
17:28 14 Nov

     "Ricky, move," I ordered.  He didn't, so I couldn't stand up and
wave at Mike and Jill; Mike saw me, pulled Jill off-course, and then
there we all were as Ricky finally got out of the way and I could stand
up.  "Man, traffic is SH-"
     "Oh," said Jill, loudly enough I could hear, as Mike batted away
the hand I'd stuck over his mouth.  The noise, of the office pods
getting off work and letting their hair (what was left of it) down, had
grown steadily since we'd gotten here.
     "Children?" I reminded him as I tugged on my ears.
     "Traffic was really really bad," Jill said, loudly.
     Mike glared at me, but nodded.  "Can we get drinks?"
     "Not until we're 21 or have ID that says so," I sighed.  I could
use one.  Or three.  Hanging around here with the Parkers was not fun...
even though I was sitting and holding Stella and so on.  She was pretty
active...  I hoped she wasn't going to be screaming tonight, but I had
doubts.  *Why oh why did they have this stupid idea...*
     "Can we finish the game later?" Ricky yelled/asked me from down
low.
     "Yeah," I said down and back.  "Bring it with you and we can play
while we're waiting for the food."
     "Aw man," I faintly heard Mike complain.
     "Shoulda known better than to go to a steakhouse like this on a
Friday night," I mumbled to myself, out of habit; you couldn't hear
someone speaking quietly in here.
     Stella kicked me about five times, really fast.
     *_I_ should've known better-*
     "AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" she shrieked into my ear.

***
17:41 14 Nov

     "Because we were sitting here for half an hour waiting for a
'reserved' table, and then you show up and two minutes later we get the
tables!"  I tried kicking Mike this time but that didn't work either.
"I HATE you!"
     "Hate us over dinner," Mike suggested.
     "Yeah okay," I agreed.  I was getting hungry, with the meat smells
wafting in continuously.  Well, getting MORE hungry.
     "Maybe if you eat something your temper will improve," Mike
suggested.
     "Nah," I dismissed.

***
17:44 14 Nov

     We were all the way in the back, in some side room, which seemed
like a clever idea - walls would help cut down the danger zone from
Stella - and seated at two pushed-together tables.  Ricky was next to
me, at one end - which made him inordinately pleased, which bothered me
until I figured out that he was at the other end from his father, a
'manly' seat - with Mike across, Miz Parker next to me, and Jill
diagonal.  I wanted to complain, but couldn't figure out an objection
before everyone else sat.
     It was also somewhat brighter in here than it was out there, which
had to be a good thing; I didn't really trust places that kept the
interior too dark to see the food, and conversely those were the places
that complained if you used a flashlight or something.

***
18:09 14 Nov

     The waitress looked about like I felt, but she had platters of
steaming meat, which had to be some kind of compensation.  All I had was
a baby, and the occasional chess piece.  Plus, she could always
'accidentally' drop the two pounds of boiling hot meat on top of some
fuckhead if she really needed to.  I couldn't do anything to Stella; her
parents were right there watching me occasionally.
     Mike kicked me and signed, <Food,> at me, like I'd missed it.
     <I know.  Shut up,> I signed back.  I don't know how he caught it;
he and Jill had been talking steadily about something, I thought motor-
cycles, but I'd only caught about twenty percent of the syllables. Which
was not enough to participate.  Mr. and Miz Parker were talking
together, mostly, ignoring me - which was fine with me - and Ricky and I
were playing chess, not talking much.  "Ricky!  Food is here!" I
announced.  He looked up, startled, and then pushed the chess set out of
the way so they could set down his kiddie salad and my adult but girly
salad; I figured I needed the greens, plus eating light before the
athletics seemed like a good idea.
     Mike kicked me again, and I almost dropped the baby to throw the
table at him, but I stopped myself.  <M-E-A-T-Q,> he signed at me.
     I really wished we'd thought to bring headsets.
     <Yes.  L-A-T-E-R,> I spelled back at him, since I wasn't sure he
knew that wordsign.
     Besides, I realized, if I'd brought headsets, Ricky would've wanted
one, maybe the Parkers too, and Stella would've tried to rip mine off or
eat it.

***
18:24 14 Nov

     "Shhhhhhh... shhhhhhh...."  Stella had gotten completely spazzed, I
guess from overstimulation.  I could understand that.  And then she'd
started shrieking and crying and so on, so here we were outside, in the
descending dark and cold, calming - I hoped - down.
     "Hey-"
     "Uh?" I asked as I turned around, to find Jill standing there.
     "-I thought you were going to the ladies' room," she finished.
     "Wh-  Oh, no.  Stella just needs a break from the noise and lights
and everything.  It's a little too stimulating for her nervous system in
there."  Not that trying to talk over Stella was going to do HER any
good.  I rocked my body sideways, but it wasn't helping much.
     Jill made a face.  "I can understand that.  Whose idea was it to
come HERE, THIS time of day?  And on Friday night?"
     "Mister Parker's," I sighed.  "He's... conservative when it comes
to food.  I've been working on him."
     "You should invite him over for Sunday dinner," she grinned.
     "Oh, right, sure," I disagreed.  "He'd love that.  Full of
teenagers and geeks, and weird food.  He'd DIE, Jill."
     "It's good food!" she protested.
     "_I_ know that, and YOU know that, but I haven't been able to
convince HIM yet.  I'm working on him, slowly, but it takes time with
these people."  It was working, just really slowly.
     She made a disgusted face.  "Shit, tell me about it... my fu-"
     "Don't curse in front of the children," I reminded her, just in
time.
     "Her?"
     "She's repeating words now."
     Her mouth made an 'oooh'.  "Uh, what-  Oh, right.  Stepfamily, they
are all..."  She shook her head.  "Lame.  So's my mother.  If you can't
find it at 7-11, they don't want it."
     "So how did you get to liking non-American?"  'American' 'cuisine'
was sort of like British in its excitement and variety, but less varied,
requiring far more meat, and without the interesting names.  Or the
puddings.
     "Guess," she smirked.  When I couldn't guess in three seconds, she
told me, "Debbie and them."
     "Ah."  Debbie had not been scared of unusual foods, I recalled.
And, come to think of it, I couldn't imagine Kathy being scared of
anything.  Or anything irrational at least, like different cuisine.
     "So, like, how long do you think it'll take with her out here?"
Jill asked.
     "Uh."  I looked at Stella, who was still sniveling and moaning
loudly, and guessed, "At least ten minutes.  Why don't you go back in,
tell them where I went and how long, and DON'T let them take my plate
away, okay?  If I'm not back when everyone else is done, pack it up and
bring it out."  I was gonna have to pay for it, so I was damn well gonna
eat it, one way or another.

***
18:33 14 Nov

     "Hey, I wonder..."  *Do I have any spares?*  I looked, and I did.

***
18:37 14 Nov

     Stella still wasn't sure whether to cry, or not, or something else,
but she didn't seem like she was going to explode in here, so I was
thinking the earplugs might be workable.  I'd had to cut them down to
size with various blades on my Leatherman, so they would fit into her
tiny ear canals, but that didn't seem to 'break' them.  Or maybe Stella
was so confused by the sensation inside her ear canals that she wasn't
noticing the noise.
     Mike was waving at me as I got towards the table, and for one
horrible moment I thought he was going to tell me that the waitress had
stolen my quarter-eaten steak.  But I looked, and it was still there.
     Then I noticed he was waving a 3.5" at me.  *What?*
     "Do you know how to score bowling?" Mr. Parker asked as I sat down.
     "No, but-"  Mike was pushing the disk into my hands.  "I think I
will in a little bit," I guessed.  Mike nodded sagely at me, looking
entirely too smug about his precognition, so I kicked him lightly.  He
just looked more smug at that, as he moved his legs away.
     And, my steak was still there, but it was cut up into very small
neat pieces.
     "I got bored," Mike told me.
     "How much did you eat?"
     "I wouldn't let him eat any!" Ricky said, and HE looked smug enough
I almost tried to kick him too.
     Most everyone else looked nearly finished, so I started to work on
mine.
     "Scoring!" Mike reminded me.
     I sighed, but started unpacking the laptop.  This was dangerous,
with all the food around; but at least I had a spare napkin, to wipe my
fingers before I used...
     *Why do I have a spare...*  Mike was looking smug again, but
unfortunately he still had his legs out of my range.  <J-E-R-K.>  He
smiled like I'd complimented him, and pointed at the laptop again.  Then
he showed me a sheet of plastic wrap, and looked slightly more smug, if
that was possible.  I resolved to shave all his hair off, the next time
I had the chance.

***
18:41 14 Nov

     "Ow."  This bowling scoring made no sense at all.  Obviously, it
had been deliberately complicated, the same way other things were, to
take an inherently simple and boring thing and make it complicated so
normal people couldn't do it.  "Exclusionary," was the word I was
looking for.
     "What?" Ricky asked, sounding puzzled.
     "Uh, nothing...  This is very very weird," I told him.  "And too
hard to try to explain in here."  Especially with less than half my food
eaten, my plate sideways on the left - I was trying to use a fork in my
left hand and it wasn't going well - and a baby on my lap.  Thank Ghu
for the plastic, because Stella was insistent about eating some of MY
food, or at least gumming it really heartily, and messily, and she'd
just reach and grab for whatever caught her eye.  I was really beginning
to wish I'd brought a change of clothing, or an apron, or a MOPP suit.

***
19:02 14 Nov

     "What do you mean, you don't want dessert?" Ricky asked me, aghast.
     "I'm FULL," I repeated at him, hoping he'd get it this time.  "I
can't eat any more."  And I was starting to wish I had a place to lie
down and sleep the meat off.  Mere Coca-Cola with dinner wasn't enough
to counteract this.

***
19:08 14 Nov

     Naturally, after a meal fit for a medieval noble (but hopefully far
more sanitary), instead of doing the sane thing and lazing around for
an hour or two, we were divvying up the check and cash and preparing to
leave.
     "Valerie!" Mr. Parker called, from way away across the table.  "We
were going to get yours," he said, like he was reminding the idiot of
the family of something they'd discussed a lot.
     "You were?  Oh, uh, you don't have to, I've got..."  He was looking
stern at me, so I dropped it.  "Thank you," I said as clearly as
possible, and smiled at him.  He smiled back, and I felt like I was off
the hook.
     *Why the hell do I feel like I nearly got in trouble, for paying
for my own food?*
     Mike and Jill continued their discussion, then Mike asked, "Tuck!
Tips!  Calculate!"
     I sighed, but I did have a computer, which could function as well
as a five dollar calculator for this, and keep track of the transactions
as well.
     Somehow I got passed the check, too; that was fine until I realized
what it was going to cost in aggregate.  "Mother of..."

***
19:14 14 Nov

     Mike had been entrusted with my laptop, which I HATED doing, but
carrying Stella and Stella-support-system gear into the ladies' room
here was about all I could lug.  And Jill had somehow managed to avoid
catching a hint about helping me.  Well, I guess I couldn't blame her;
she wasn't getting paid for babysitting, even though the dinner would
take the place of my actual base pay for the next several hours.
     *You wanted the job, stupid,* I reminded myself as I tried to do
something with the stains on Stella's dress, which I was doing to delay
messing with the diaper.  Which was stupid, when I caught what I was
doing, so I just took a deep breath and got to work on the bad part.  At
least they had a changing table in here, though I suspected that few
mothers were stupid enough to bring their babies in to this restaurant.
I hoped, anyway.

***
19:18 14 Nov

     There was a note under my windshield, which did not make me happy.
I pulled it out, and read it.
     "IF YOO WANT YUR LAPTOPP BRING THE MUNEY AN THE KID TO..." and then
there were directions, tolerably clear, on where the bowling place was
compared to here.
     "Thanks Mike," I sighed out loud.  "Dork."  He'd written it with
his left hand, too, at least the ransom note part.
     "You're not supposed to use that word," Ricky crowed.
     "Ricky, don't make me abuse you," I told him.
     Someone honked, which yanked my pulse rate up to where it shouldn't
be, but it was the Parkers, or at least Mr. Parker, grinning like a
jackass and waving at me from inside his car, which was momentarily
behind MY car, before he drove off.
     "Nahhhhhhhh-"
     "Open the door!  It's cold!" Ricky complained from the other side.
     At least the adult Parkers had taken Stella; so she hadn't exploded
in my arms from the noise, and if she did explode it was not,
temporarily at least, my problem.

***
19:31 14 Nov

     "Oh..."  The cycle that had just passed me reminded me that Jill
was getting her cycle tomorrow.  I needed to say something to her about
that, but I'd forgotten earlier, what with the wait and then the
confusion and then her being seated so far away and then the baby
spazzing...
     *Is she avoiding me?*

***
19:49 14 Nov

     "We got two lanes reserved, for two games each," Mike told me as we
bustled inside.  I was glad he'd come out to wait for me, and to explain
things.  Ricky had dashed past him towards the door, and I'd waved Mike
off, since it wasn't worth trying to catch him at this point.  Not when
he was going inside anyway.
     "Yeah...  Hey, thanks for the directions," I told him.
     He looked at me funny.  "You feeling okay?"
     "Tired.  Protein-loaded, so I want to lie down for a while..."
     He nodded agreement at that, but added, "Hey, it's just bowling;
it's not like it's real work or anything."
     "It's sitting up and STANDING up and throwing something and
walking," I pointed out, "which is way more than I want to do right
now."
     "Yeah, well...  Why DID you agree to this anyway?"
     I commented bitterly, "'Cause I'm stupid?"
     "I KNEW that, I was wondering what your reasoning - so to speak -
was, about agreeing to it."
     "'Be nice to the clients'," I quoted Dad.  "Ricky got the idea, and
then Mister Parker wanted to do it, and Miz Parker didn't win that
argument, so-"
     "She didn't want you to come, or something?"
     "I dunno.  Maybe she had the sane thought that the point of having
a babysitter is to STAY HOME with the children so THEY can go out."
     "Doesn't 'be nice to the client' involve not complaining bitterly
about them?"
     "Bite m- Jill's ass," I suggested, with a modification.
     "Hah, I think not," he stated as he held the door open, and a wave
of hot air engulfed me.
     "Nnngh.  Well, anyway, I figured...  So here I am.  And don't EVEN
ask me why they invited you guys, I dunno."
     "Maybe they figured you could have some fun with your friends, or
something," Mike suggested, though he sounded skeptical.
     I shook my head, because it made no sense.

***
19:52 14 Nov

     "I have to RENT shoes?  That EVERYONE ELSE has worn?"
     "Tuck, it's not my damned idea, I already tried arguing with them.
They say it messes up the wood floors if-"
     "Then they should use something besides wood!"
     "Maybe they should make the scoring simple enough to put into a
paragraph instead of two pages, too," he mentioned.  "Sports."
     "Bloody sports," I agreed, grumbling.  It never seemed to be enough
to invent a sport; you had to add all sorts of stupid complications to
it, like bizarre scoring and supposedly-required-but-not-really-and-
very-expensive auxiliary equipment, and clothing-  I glared at the
stupid cow in the island where apparently they did not properly
disinfect the shoes, because I didn't see an autoclave and they weren't
wrapped like they'd come out of one.
     "At least it's indoors," Mike reminded me.
     "Stop trying to cheer me up."
     "Who, me?  I'd never do a thing like that to YOU."
     "Good."
     Pause.
     "Shoes, T-Val."
     "I hate rented shoes," I announced to Mike.
     "At least it's the non-smoking end."
     "Oh god."  Though vomiting masticated (SAT word) steak and salad
all over some of the addicts would be kind of amusing, and I bet I
wouldn't be quite so sleepy if I did...
     "Get the bloody shoes, Val," Mike told me as he grabbed my arm and
pulled.  "Size six, I-"
     "Eight," I corrected.
     "Eight?" he asked, looking down.  "When did-"  I grabbed his arm,
then touched his chest in a way that women might and men would never
ever.  He looked almost round-eyed for a moment.  "Oh."
     They were exceedingly ugly shoes, too.

***
19:54 14 Nov

     "One half M V squared," I quoted at Mike.  "I think I can
accelerate a lighter mass to higher V."
     "What about momentum versus drag?"
     "How long are the lanes?"  We looked.  "Not that long.  What,
fifteen meters?"
     "Maybe twenty," he sort of agreed.  "Not much of a factor," he said
before I could say something similar.  "What about..."  I turned back to
looking for a small-mass ball.  There weren't any.  "... something like
amount of acceleration...  I know there's something about the biological
or mechanical design of the body in here somewhere.  You can't- I mean,
you only have so much distance you can accelerate something.  'Cause of
your arm length."
     "And only so much velocity too, before stuff shears.  Like your arm
bones.  Still..."  Fourteen was probably the best I was gonna get,
damnit.  Sixteen seemed to be both exceedingly popular and the highest
allowed.  *Stupid... unless all the lighter ones- no, they should- if
they had a proper distribution, then there should still be SOME others
here, not just heavies.  Unless they completely ignore their customer
preferences,* which was entirely possible of course.  Plenty of people
had done that, like Detroit, and while you'd think people would pay
attention to things like that, I'd learned that people wouldn't.
     *Probably because their brains are too full of stupid overly-
complicated sports things,* I decided, and nodded to myself.  It made
sense; they paid attention to this stuff when they were kids, and it ate
too far into their available NVRAM so they couldn't absorb other things
like the pitiful high school classes and later lessons.  Not to mention
sense.
     "Ball?"
     "Wh-  Oh, right.  Did you get one?"
     "No... do they have any light ones?"
     "No."
     "Why not?!"
     Luckily, I had an explanation for this.

***
19:56 14 Nov

     On the other hand, it was entirely possible that they separated the
balls roughly by mass, at least into 'adult' and 'kiddie' sections; and
that we hadn't seen the kiddie rack.  Before.
     "My fingers!" Mike complained.
     "Wha-"  They seemed to be stuck in one.  "Oh, sh-  Do you need
something?  I think I have some graphite in the car..."
     "Wait... a..."  He managed to pull them out at that point.  "Ka
maga suni korogaisha nimigo!" he cursed the ball, or the rack, or
everything along that bearing.
     "AND your mother," I added in support.
     He sighed, and went back to the 'adult' section.  I thought about
going with him; the best prospect I'd found here was a twelve-pounder,
with finger holes big enough for me, but this hideous sort of swirled
pearlized pink.  I wasn't sure if it was worth using... though I was
wearing makeup and etc, so it wasn't like I was imperiling my nominal
manhood by using it.  Still, I had this vague idea that I didn't want
the Parkers, or Ricky, or Jill, or any random onlookers, to think that I
approved of such a monstrosity.
     *Decisions decisions...*

***
20:02 14 Nov

     I'd finally decided that if I was going to look like a teenaged
mother who couldn't do laundry - me and Stella looked similarly bad,
with food stains ALL over our clothes - that a pink bowling ball wasn't
going to add much.  Or maybe 'subtract' was a better word.   I was
probably solidly in the -3 reaction modifier category at this point, and
there wasn't much worse I could get without doing something extreme,
like biting a chunk out of someone's arm or smoking or something truly
grotesque.
     "Oh, Val," Miz Parker said sadly, apparently seeing the bowling
ball I'd selected.  "Did Stella throw food all over you?"
     *Oh, not the bowling ball.*  "Yeah, but..."  I shrugged.  "I'll
just wash 'em or something tonight, I guess.  Or tomorrow."
     "Jeez, it didn't look that bad at the table," Jill felt it
necessary to mention.
     "It was darker in there, probably for exactly this reason," I told
her.  "And you left before I got out to the parking lot."
     She snorted.  "I thought it was to be romantic or something, the
dim lights."
     "In a steakhouse?  No, it's for people who can't eat with utensils.
Like me and Stella."  At least I'd cleaned our faces and hands, so we
didn't look unsanitary.  And I'd used soap, so I wouldn't gross up
everything I touched with grease.
     "Val and table manners have a very distant acquaintance," Mike felt
it necessary to comment.
     "You should talk," Jill said to Mike, which made me feel better.
     "Oh, hey, Jill," I remembered, finally.  "Congrats on getting the
cycle money together."
     "Oh man oh man oh man," she whimpered loudly as she hugged herself
and bounced up and down.  Excited, I decoded, but worried that something
would go wrong at the last second and deprive her of the money or the
cycle or both.
     Mike tapped us both on the shoulder, then bowed his head, put his
hands together, and intoned, "God, please don't let anything F this up."
     "Amen."  "Amen!"  Jill seemed particularly fervent, which made
sense.
     "So let us bowl unto God as a sacrifice," Mike continued.

***
20:07 14 Nov

     Mike had gotten us a pair of aisles or whatever that shared the
scoring-projector; it had JUST enough room to put the laptop on it, and
clever me had bungee cords in the laptop bag to secure it to the nominal
'table' so no one would bump the laptop off and I'd have to kill them.
If I lived; it was possible the psychological trauma might incapacitate
me.

***
20:10 14 Nov

     White fire went up my side and into my arm, and the combination of
all that plus the weight I was swinging threw me unrecoverably off
balance.  I did manage to fall on the LEFT side, and not bounce my head
against their precious wood floor.
     Eventually, everything stopped bouncing, and the acute pains
stopped, collected themselves, and then settled down to a siege.
*Teeth, fingers, toes...*
     *This is bad.*  Not only because I looked extremely stupid, but
because people were going to panic, and I felt too bad to get away at
the moment.  Plus I hurt.  I'm not sure where the ball went after I let
go of it.  Nor, when I thought about it, did I really care.
     Then Mike was there, and he was snapping things at other people,
I think, as he pulled my shirt up halfway and felt at me.  "Anything
break?" he asked me.
     <No.>  I gasped for a while, then told him, "Hurt to throw, lost my
balance," when I could speak.
     "Any damage?"
     I thought about it, and ran some more self-tests.  "No..."  I had
the temptation to tell Mike to tell everyone I'd sprained my arm or
dislocated it or something, and thus needed to go home, but that would
be hard to convey to Mike covertly with everyone standing around over me
and making noises.  Which they were doing and I was ignoring.
     I grabbed his ankle to get his attention, and begged, "Explain?"
Well, I gasped while begging, or begged while gasping, or something.
     He nodded at me and started talking, as he helped me up.  I
couldn't talk - or make excuses - to humans and handle anything else at
the same time, right now.  *C'mon, reset, reset...*
     Apparently I'd ended up 'inside' the bowling lane, too, past the
'no humans past this point' line painted on the wood.
     "You know... if I'd had decent shoes... this wouldn't've happened,"
I mentioned to Mike, in between breaths.
     "Try a lawsuit."
     "You don't have any money."
     He looked at me, then grinned.  "This is true, but I meant the
bowling alley."
     "Ugh.  Lawyers.  No."

***
20:12 14 Nov

     "Miz Parker, really, it's fine," Mike assured her for the Nth time.
"She's had worse.  I'VE done worse," he insisted.
     I nodded in agreement, then forced myself to say, "And my dad's
worse than he is."  Her face went bad, and I realized an implication of
what I'd said.  "Um, paintball," I remembered one.
     Her face got all confused.  "What??"  You could hear the doubled
question marks that time.  Verging on an exclamation point.
     "Her dad plays paintball to win," Mike explained.  "Including a
paintball bayonet."
     "Ow, man..."  That had HURT.
     "How do you do a paintball bayonet?" Mr. Parker asked, sounding
skeptical.
     "David," Miz Parker said.
     "You get like foam pipe insulation, the hard- I mean the stiff
kind, and glue a paintball to it," Mike explained to Mr. Parker.
     "He did NOT put foam on the rifle stock.  Or his boots.  OR the
tree."  I'd bled a lot on that damned tree.  And I'd thought we were so
clever, waiting until he was reloading before me and Mike charged him.
But we learned a valuable lesson that day; never attack Dad from his
front hemisphere.  Well, two; never get cocky in a firefight.  Or never
go hand-to-hand while you still have ammo, or something.  Actually,
there were a lot of lessons involved in that beating; I just didn't want
to think about them, in case Dad picked up the thoughts and started
quoting pithy sayings at me.
     The Parkers looked at each other.
     Mike continued, "So, really, this is a minor thing.  Val didn't
fall on her bad side, where the ribs are knitting, and everything's
okay, right?"
     "Oh, yeah... but there is no way I can bowl tonight," I mentioned.
"That's what made me fall down, the pain of trying to throw the thing.
What I was thinking, though," because if everyone went home at this
point there would be a lot of bad feelings, including on my side, "was
that I could score for both sides and watch Stella?"  *Please oh please
please please go for-*
     "Hey that would work," Mike said, sounding a little surprised.
"Since you're the only one that understands the scoring anyway."
     "True.  And then you get to bowl," I said to Miz Parker, "without
having to transfer Stella back and forth each time."  Stella definitely
preferred being in the soft baby carrier, snuggled up against a human,
to being strapped in the crate.  Which I could understand.  But it was
definitely a pain trying to trade her off while she was in it.
     "You sure, Val?" Jill asked.
     I almost said something normal - that is, nasty and sarcastic, to
show off my wit and annoyance at the stupid question at the same time -
when some freshly-sprouted seed of verbal cunning made me try to sound
astonished as I said instead, "Yeah I'm sure!  And Stella's sure, aren't
you Stella?" I asked her with a smile.
     "NO!" she shrieked.
     Luckily, even the Parkers chuckled at that.

***
20:13 14 Nov

     The pink ball was just as disgusting, sitting in the ball return
thing, as it had been when I picked it up.  I thought it might even be
grinning at me, and daring me to try it again.  *No,* I thought at it,
*fucking WAY.*
     "Are you watching?" Ricky demanded from one of the lanes.
     "Yes!" I lied as I looked at him.
     He ran up and threw... right into the gutter.  I sighed, as Ricky
shrieked in anguish.  *Fun for the whole family...*

***
20:38 14 Nov

     "Wha-  Hey!  Great!" I yelled at Ricky, who had actually gotten the
first actual 'strike' of the evening.  I didn't say anything else,
because he couldn't have heard me with the way he was yelling and
carrying on, but I suspected he was happy about it.
     *Now, he gets that, plus, uh...*
     And, come to think of it, he wasn't getting the velocity out of HIS
throws, that everyone else was out of theirs.  *Guess that whole physics
thing was more complex than you thought, surprise surprise.*  Physics,
or mechanics, was kind of cool, I guess, but the problem was it had so
little relation to the real world it was crazy.  I was hoping that
electrical would be closer, when we got to it next semester.

***
20:53 14 Nov

     "Uhhh... forty-five," I told Ricky, after I'd steeled myself.
     "I got the lowest score?  But I made a strike!"
     "I know, and, see, here..."  I waited for him to come over.  "You
got the additional score from that one ball, here, and I DID add that
in..."  He looked crushed.  "Hey, at least you didn't fall down like a
spazz, like I did," I mentioned.
     "This is a dumb game!" Ricky announced.
     "Shh!" I warned him, as I looked for his parents.  They'd
apparently gotten out of range already; Mr. Parker had to go see a man
about a dog, and Miz Parker was fetching drinks along with Jill.  I'd
have gone, but I still had to finish scoring this game, plus she'd made
me stay right here.
     Ricky demanded, "Well, what about the other one?"
     "You got a fifty on the other game."  He'd 'taken' my place with
Mike and Jill.  "Look, you're getting better already," I told him.
"This next game you'll score higher."
     He sighed, and looked pained.
     "I know..." I agreed, but quietly.  "Look, at least nobody's gonna
make fun of you for it, okay?  Just, I mean..."  I sighed again.
     "I'm not having fun, YOU'RE not having fun..." Ricky pointed out.
     "Yeah, but your parents are.  Listen, just try and act cool about
it, and don't turn it into a fight with them, and then they'll hopefully
see how stupid an idea this was and never invite us again.  But keep it
quiet!"
     As he whined, "But I wanted to go..." I looked around again, and
Mr. Parker was coming back.
     "Yer dad's coming," I warned.  "Tell you later.  Just be really
really cool, okay?"
     He looked skeptical, but didn't say anything to his dad, like, 'I'd
rather be dead and you're stupid for wanting to play this and I HATE
you!' like I was hoping he wouldn't.
     I had to think about a way to suggest to him, that sometimes
letting stuff like this rot, was better than picking it up and flinging
it at the people who came up with the idea.  Also, I wasn't sure how
much he could hold stuff in; it seemed to be, the smaller the kid, the
smaller the emotional septic tank.
     *Wait, this was HIS idea originally!!  You little shit!*

***
21:11 14 Nov

     "Having fun, Val?" Mike grinned at me.
     "Oh yes, tons," I said, because Miz Parker was there, wiping her
face with a tissue she'd pulled out of her purse.  "You?" I asked back,
to return the favor.
     "Ahhh, I kind of like it," Mike carped.
     "That's nice.  Drop dead," I added when Miz Parker got out of
range.
     "Nnnnnngh."  He shrugged as he went out to go toss his ball, and
Jill came back, and I looked around to see what everyone had been
scoring.  This game took up too much of my brain for me to run internal
processes, but wasn't enough to give me more than a trivial CPU load.
     "This is more fun than I thought it would be," Jill announced with
a smile.  She was also sweating a bit, which I could understand; her aim
wasn't good, but she was throwing really hard, and if she hit anything
she'd usually get secondaries.  Miz Parker, I think, was just out of
shape.  I was pretty sure Mr. Parker was too, but he wasn't throwing
like it.  I was glad I wouldn't have to deal with him in the next
morning or two when his arm started to hurt.
     "More fun than the gun range?" I asked, and did something flirty-
girly, with a quirked smile, that I must've seen on television because I
had a decent mental image of what I should look like.
     Jill made an ugly face back, then pointed at the score sheet.  "Put
the stuff down," she ordered.

***
21:28 14 Nov

     "You know what they need?  Here, I mean?"
     "A skating rink instead of a bowling alley?" Mike suggested.
     "N-  Well-  That's besides the point," I decided.  "One, the
scoring's too hard but it's not an impossible algorithm, and they should
do computerized scoring."
     He nodded agreement to that.  "With a projector display.  What's
two?"
     "Something like kiddie lanes, with no gutter."  Gutter balls were
very discouraging, even second hand.  I'd thought about how to sneak in
a couple of pipes or 2x4's before I realized it was almost totally
impractical as well as utterly unconcealable.
     "Maybe you should mention these things to the manager," Mike said
before the little kiosk vomited his ball back up.
     "Ehhhh."  I'd just as soon have a skating rink.  If they closed
because the scoring was too hard for most people to understand, and the
kids hated it because of the suck factor of gutters, then eventually the
entire thing would go away.
     Of course, this didn't explain the continued survival of
professional golf...

***
21:41 14 Nov

     "Hey, I was thinking about the kiddie lanes thing," Mike mentioned
as he came over and grabbed his coke.  The Parkers had gotten large
sodas for everyone except Stella, and Stella was resentful of that and
so spent a lot of her time trying to kick them over.  I had the
additional duty now of stopping her.
     "Yah?"
     "If they make it permanent, then they have that demand imbalance
thing," Mike said, meaning that no matter how carefully you studied the
problem of what ratio of the two kinds to build, people would cluster
their use and so there wouldn't be enough of one kind or the other, at
least a third of the time.  "So what if they made all lanes with, like,
some kind of mechanism that slides over and covers the gutters?"
     I considered the idea and found it good.  There was mechanical
complexity to worry about, repair issues, power issues, durability in a
place where people were hurling sixteen pound cannonballs continuously,
and probably some things I hadn't thought of; but they had automatic pin
picker-uppers and ball return mechanisms already, which had the same
kinds of problems and seemed popular enough.
     About the only problem I could forsee, in fact, was that it would
make bowling more popular.  "Maybe you should patent this," I mentioned.
Patent licensing money took priority over destroying the bowling
wickedness.  "Hey," I said over his chuckles.  "Is this what you and
Jill've been talking about?"
     "Naw," he said, before ingesting some more soda.  "'Bout her cycle
tomorrow.  She's got it all picked out and everything, and she's gonna
pay cash for it..."
     Jill inserted, "If nothing fff-"
     "F's up," I finished, grateful that she'd stopped the word before
it got into Stella's ears.
     "Fffffffff," Stella blew, managing to aerosol baby spit in a
remarkably wide pattern.
     Mike and Jill fled in horror, leaving me with a wet face and a
squealingly happy baby.

***
22:14 14 Nov

     Mr. and Miz Parker looked like they'd had fun; Stella and Ricky
were pooped, though Stella at least could be carried easily, and was
fitfully napping in her crate; Mike and Jill looked like they were in
the mood to hunt up some fun that wasn't older than my parents, or
wasn't deliberately complex; and... I was frickin' pooped.  At least the
pain pills were working, so I could, for example, walk.
     "You sure?" Mike inquired.
     "I'm sure," I told all of them at once.  "I still have to go into
school tomorrow, to make up the cosmetology hours I missed-"
     "Make up," Mr. Parker grinned.
     "So I'm off to bed," I said, ignoring Mr. Parker instead of
complaining that it wasn't funny any more.  But I managed to smile at
all of them.  It had gone, sort of, better than I'd feared; Jill and a
suit, because Mr. Parker was definitely a suit... and then me and Mike
weren't too fond of suits either.  But it had gone okay, judging by the
nicey-nice everyone else was doing to everyone else as I stood there and
waited to make my escape.
     "Last time I need a ride in THAT thing," Jill grinned viciously at
Mike.
     "Bet?" Mike said, deadpan.
     They argued off into the night.

***
22:40 14 Nov

     Rachel wasn't home, and neither were Dave or Whatshername, the
other girl that lived with them.  Somehow I doubted they were out
bowling, though.
     Not like I cared.  If they didn't know how horrible it was, they'd
find out soon enough, and it wasn't my problem.

***
23:28 14 Nov

     "Eugene?"
     "Hey Mom," I sighed.  I don't know why she waited up for me, but
sometimes she did...  I preferred it when Dad did.
     "Where were you?"
     "Bowling?  I logged it, didn't I?" I spazzed, only mildly because I
was tired and inside my weekend curfew time anyway.
     "Oh, that's right," she agreed.  "I just didn't remember WHAT you
were doing.  Are you okay?  Did you hurt yourself?"
     I wished I knew how she picked this stuff up, so I could jam it.
"Turns out that bowling is about the worst thing I can think of to do
with broken ribs," I admitted, "but it was only the one time, and it's
okay now."
     "Only the-"
     "Someone else took over my games, so I only did it the once.  I'm
not THAT dumb, Mom.  Maybe Brian, but-"
     "Eugene-"
     "His finger that time in soccer, remember?"  He'd been more
upset about the penalty he'd gotten for touching the ball with his hand,
than about the fracture.  "_I_ am not dumb enough to, to do something
for recreation if it HURTS, okay?"  He'd taped it up and played the rest
of the game with it broken before mentioning it to anyone else.
     She frowned as she remembered it and apparently admitted the
validity of my argument.
     "So," I said while I had her stalled, "off to bed.  I've got
cosmetology in the morning."
     "You need to eat someth-"
     "Steakhouse," I interrupted.  "Sorry.  We went to eat before we
went bowling.  Which is a bad idea, by the way; y-"
     "Got the sleepies?"
     "Oooooh yeah," I agreed, and we smiled at each other.
     "Give Mom a hug, then," she finally gave up.  I was more than
grateful to get away this easily.
     "How come you're up and not Dad?" I asked when I got loose.
     She made a face.  "He had some kind of massive software upgrade,
and it IS the fourteenth..."  I checked my watch for no good reason and
it was indeed.  "Flag Day," Mom said, apparently thinking I was
completely stupid instead of only partially.  "He said he'd send, or he
did already send, you email on what it was."
     "Ah, okay.  Thanks," I smiled at her.

***
23:33 15 Nov

     There was a paper sack on my bed.  The sane thing would've been to
call Mike and possibly George and/or Dan, and then build a remote to
look inside the bag in case it was explosive or had cobras in it or
something.  But I was too tired to be very sane, and so I just walked
over and looked in it.  Then I couldn't figure out what the hell it was,
so I reached my hand in.  It felt like smooth fabric, silk or rayon or
something, and it was black, and as I pulled it out a note fell off.
     "Borroed this from Pam," it said, and even I could tell it was
misspelled, but it looked like it was written in a hurry.  "She said
youd clean it and give it back?  Should fit its a bit large on her.
Have fun etc and well be there Sunday Sabrina"
     "Oh," I said, and then made sure my door was shut, which it was.
Then I pulled the dress all the way out and unrolled it and looked at
it.  "Nice!"  I thought I might look really good in it.  And she HADN'T
included shoes, but there was a small box, which when opened contained
some clip-on earrings and a bracelet.  "Aw, man," I sighed.  Still,
Sabrina's knowledge of such things was at least equal and possibly
superior to Debbie's, and if she thought I needed to wear such things
then I probably did.

***
03:09 15 Nov

     "Oh, right, it's Saturday.  No school today.  Ughhhh."

***
07:00 15 Nov

     "Be-doop!"
     "Wh?"

***
07:01 15 Nov

     "Be-doop!"
     "Nnnh?"  I wiped crusted snot out of my eye sockets and focused on
the screen until I could read it.  "Oh shit fuck hell," I sighed.  I'd
remembered that today was Saturday, but forgotten about the makeup.  I'd
gotten an idea while urinating - which I wasn't going to mention if it
ever came up - and spent two hours doing music, before passing out again
because I didn't have school this morning.  Haha.  "Damnit."

***
07:19 15 Nov

     "Pizza?  You had PIZZA?"
     Mom didn't answer, being asleep I guessed as well as on another
floor, but the pizza box in the refrigerator told the tale of the awful
deed.
     And upon further forensic examination, she'd apparently ordered for
me too, because there was most of a pizza still there, and it was loaded
like Mom and I liked, with all the veggie options available.  Dad
thought spinach on pizza was blasphemous, and Brian...  Brian was a
whore; he'd eat whatever you didn't take.  Which was funny considering
his early life...
     "I think I must confiscate some of this, as punishment," I decided,
and detached two slices for microwaving and immediate consumption.
"Also to protect it from evil."  Like Brian.

***
07:34 15 Nov

     "Oh, shit."  The sun wasn't even up yet, not really.  "This is too
fucking early."

***
07:58 15 Nov

     "It's Tucker the Coke-man!" Nicole said as she saw me, or what was
in my arms.  *No, she remembered your name, be nice,* I told myself, and
forced a smile back at her.  She did look unreasonably nice this
morning, with a long white wool coat and a matching knitted hat, and
black heeled boots peeking out of the coat, though it looked like she
was wearing jeans again.
     "I hate mornings," I mentioned, to explain myself, and her face
fell and she nodded.  And she started digging in her purse, and
eventually handed me a dollar.  "Four," I guessed, and she nodded.  I
was glad I'd remembered to stop at a convenience store and get a twelve-
pack or two.  Technically, I suppose, I was losing money, because this
time I'd had to pay three dollars retail, so I was losing on sales tax,
but I think Debbie or Mom would've put it down as 'advertising' or
'community relations' or something.  It would've been nice if I'd
remembered to get the Cokes out of the refrigerator, which was always
cheaper for me, but unfortunately the pizza had driven all consideration
of the future out of my head.

***


"Having a family is like having a bowling alley installed in your head."
 -- Martin Mull


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+ @>--,--'-----   Ellen Hayes   o===[--------      __      vicki .sig  +
                  -=[1990]=-                       \/      virus 13.4
+      http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes     PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) +



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