$$$$$$$$$$$ $$$$$$$$$$$ hogz of entropy #214 $$$$$P $$$$ $$$$ moo, oink, up your butt. $$$$P $$$$ x$$$$ $$$P $$$$ xP$$$$ d$$$$$$$$$$$. $$$. $$$$xP $$$$ $$$$$$' >$$$$ $$$$$$$$$. $$$$P $$$$ 4$$$$$. .$$$$' $$$$'`4$$$b. $$$$ $$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$P' $$$$b 4$$$$b. $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$< %% $$$$$b 4$$$$$x $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$ %% >> "Two Short Stories" << by -> ANdz0oey ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 1. _Walking Home_ standing outside of school and waiting for some kid to pull out his knife and just slash open your stomach, yeah, i would feel the same way, even though the kid wasn't brandishing a knife at that moment, his hands were just in his pockets. he was walking with me, telling me about his GTX bike. i didn't want to talk to the kid; i would've rather just strolled home by myself. he was short, with a pretend smile that showed that he wasn't someone to let you go without some kind of confrontation. it wasn't so much what he looked like; he was pretty short, but it was just that smile. He hated me, and i didn't know why. He said i was a dork, a nerd, you know, because i was smart and everything. The thing was, this kid was smart too. school was always over at two-forty, and it took about twenty minutes to walk home. the day we were hopping along, the two of us, he was still telling me about this bike of his. we were on the macadam lot adjacent to the church, which we had to cross to get to our housing development. i always felt like shit whenever i walked home, because i knew that the kid would eventually have to say something mean to me. with some guys, it's all right when you're alone with them; they won't make fun of you because no one is around for them to show off for. this kid wasn't like that, not in any way. it was spring, although you couldn't tell, it seemed more like summer. the sky was still cloudy gray after it had rained the night before, and the gravel we usually kick when we're walking along was washed away somewhere. we got to the tiny patch of grass between the lot and the little road that winds by the development, and the kid stopped to tie his shoe. i didn't know if i should stay or what, because it looks kind of stupid when a person is waiting for another person to tie his shoe. i waited, though, because it would have probably looked worse if i ended up walking home alone, without anybody to talk to. the development was pretty crowded; all of the houses were bunched up together on this tiny road. the sidewalk was darker than usual, on account of the rain, and all of the trash cans were out because it was trash day. you could tell who put out their trash can the night before, because some rain would still be on the lid. i knew that when i got home my can would be dry as hell. i never could remember to take the trash out. all this while, the kid hadn't said anything to me. it was just us two walking along, side by side, with no conversation whatsoever. i was still afraid he was going to say something, anything, about me or my mom or something else, but i was sort of relieved, because i was already halfway home. i didn't feel that bad, either, because i usually expect to be ridiculed on the way home, and nothing at all had happened yet. once in a while, we'd kick a trash can or something like that, and maybe some old lady would yell at us, telling us that we were disgracing our Catholic school uniforms. we were, but nobody can expect a person to walk idly by when a plastic receptacle is in their way. some things are just made for people to kick, especially stones and trash cans. the kid's house was coming up now. we both hated each other, but i guess we were friends or something like that. so the kid invites me over to his mailbox. "Look at this," he says. "What?" it was a bike magazine. he was holding it, looking at the ads. "I'm gonna get those hydraulics." "Yeah, fuck you." i walked the rest of the way home by myself. --- 2. _Me Vs. God_ she mumbled something like "I'll pray to you," or maybe it went a little differently (because the words she spoke just don't make sense the way i remember them). it didn't make me feel one bit better, anyway. i hung the telephone up exactly the way i would've if i were mad, you know, slamming it as if that was the best way i could express my emotions, and desiring that the person on the other end would feel every drop of the rage that filled me. we didn't speak together for long; her friends were calling every five minutes trying to cheer her up. (i was probably more depressing than most others, hence the brief, silent conversation we shared.) she wanted me to come to the funeral, but i hoped that she needed me there. (i tend to act selfish at the worst imaginable moments.) her sister had died earlier in the morning, and it was later in the night now, a small bit rainy. it didn't matter how it was outside, anyway -- my room was void of light, still i didn't feel like turning on any of the three lamps that were usually glowing brightly at this time. so i was sitting on a pillow with lots on my mind, and i had to be crying. the thing was, i didn't feel sad at all, just very angry. i hated God, hated everything that He had done, and refused to accept what He had in store for all of us. my faith wasn't something that i had questioned before; it was like "here's God, He reminds me of Santa Claus, and maybe if i pray to Him every day he'll give me some presents." (God is good to those who are nice to Him.) but immature answers didn't work in the present state of my life, so why bother to believe at all? i would've felt better if God was one big fucking lie, but the truth of his existence made it so much worse...yeah, here's something intangible that you blindly believe in that's supposed to be just and fair and peaceful and then, without a concrete reason, this God of ours goes and kills indiscriminately. maybe there's something better after life, but for the happiness of one soul, we must pay a fortune with the torment of those who have been left behind. like me. i lifted myself off of the floor and cried a little more. it was very late, yet i didn't feel much like falling asleep. i wanted to accept things...but everything was so difficult. It's just that whenever people are confused, i try really hard to clear everything up, spotless as a crystal-clean lake, no matter how stupid or badly constructed my explanation is. maybe God wasn't like me...still, i wanted to feel better; consolation was as essential to me as to those who truly needed it. but it's not like the Bible has any moment of help for anyone. (i mean, half the goddamn book is some story about an anguished farmer or maybe a psalm about how good the king is to all of his subjects - lots of guidance, right?) so i just stood and wept. not sure of anything anymore, i thought maybe i'd give up and go to sleep. my head hit the wall as my body fell back. i looked in the spotty mirror that had been hanging in the corner for so long, just to see if i was allright or not. The glass surface didn't reveal much; there wasn't any kind of deity staring back at me, offering His hope...just a tear-stained face wishing that everything didn't have to be so fucking complicated. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- * (c) HoE publications. HoE #214 -- written by ANdz0oey -- 3/15/98 *