dick and other shit

I always wondered what that moment was like. The one where you find a lump. Knowing that more likely than not, death would soon be knocking.

The moment was disappointing. For me. Not for her.

She'd always expected to die. She talked about it all the time. How she'd never see 25. Then 30. Now it's 40.

Me, I'm 40. Guess I know now that I won't see 50. Probably not 42. Maybe even 41.

The lump showed up the night after a disappointing night of sex. Well, mostly sex.

When the dick isn't cooperative, the sex tends to disappoint. And this time, the dick certainly didn't disappoint. At being uncooperative.

She said all the right things, the girl underneath. But hiding true feelings in those moments doesn't happen. A shrug becomes a smirk. A sigh becomes a curse.

It had all happened before.

This time, however, was a little different.

In the morning, while taking a pee, I noticed that my less than huge dick was less than its normal self. Stretching the complete package out, a lump showed up.

Not the STD kind. Not the bug bite kind. Instead, just a raised portion. It didn't hurt. But the groin always sort of hurt. Ever since the first of now dozens of kidney stones. Including one the sized of an unshelled peanut.

***

I'm the Cubs fan of love.

I liked taking pictures of dead things, I remember that part of my childhood.

If it makes no sense, it’s better than what I’m used to.

I kind of wish I’d kind of done it differently. Maybe.
***
She walked into the room, and dust kicked up.

“Who are you?” she asked with a smile.

“I’m no one.”

“Ok,” she said, walking away.

I watched her walk. She had a nice walk. One leg was a little longer than the other. Her brown shoes didn’t match her plaid skirt.

“Better that way,” I thought to myself.

***
I watched from a far. I used to watch from up close. But one day I thought she saw me. So I had to stop getting so close. If she saw me, she’d never come back. Why? Because she didn’t want me there.

The paint was peeling off the sign that read “Memories.” Faded memories. A cliché. How appropriate.

A patch of sand had started to turn into a hill of sand. I wondered if this was how a dune would slowly build. From run off and one man’s laziness?

I grabbed a shirt off the ground, I was about to cum and I didn’t want to make a mess. Three days later, I found that shirt – it was my favorite old tour shirt. Now, forever stained by my five minutes of needless pleasure. I’d had that shirt since my first show. How could I ever wear it again? Knowing that these new stains came from that?

I bumped into the pool table on my way to the bar. Luckily, no one noticed as the six ball edged closer to the middle of the felt. I grabbed my composure from out of my ass and went to order my beer.

“You dodged one there, sweetie,” a voice came from over my shoulder.

Instead of turning to look back, I gazed into the cloudy mirror behind the bar. A brunette stood behind me. At least I thought she had brown hair. You never really know in bar light.

I smiled at the reflection. It smiled back.

Yesterday, I wished it hadn’t.

I promised I wouldn’t think about her today. I failed. I said I wouldn’t listen to their music. I did. The only thing I followed through on was buying a lottery ticket. Same six numbers as always. I figure the number seven has got to come up as the mega-power-terrific ball someday. All the numbers represent birthdays. Not mine, but theirs. And since so many of them are Cancers, I figured seven was my unlucky lucky number. So far, it’s still that’s held true.

“Have you ever been there?” she asked.

“No. I didn’t know it was even there until you told me two hours ago.”

We had been driving for almost an hour now. Headed west towards “Pete’s Pizza and Beer”, what she told me was the “best damn pizza and beer joint in New Mexico.” Of course, we were in Tallahassee when she told me that.

Waylon was right. You do look in the mirror one day and see how old you’ve gotten. My chest hair is almost completely white now. As is my beard. Guess I’ll never be the new kid anymore.

Scurvy kills.

You know you’re in trouble when you wake up and your car keys are in her hands.

Still haven’t figured out why I left her. Although I know why I wanted to.