Monday, June 22, 2009

Part two.

There had to be a reason though. There was always a reason. I’m sure Denny’s girlfriend Kaita would attribute this to some deep rooted childhood trauma. But she was a psych student. She thought everything was caused by some deep rooted childhood trauma.

I tried desperately to retain the taste in my mouth. To savor it, even if just for a moment more. That was definitely a first. Half a bottle of Listerine usually followed Denny’s creations. They went hand in hand. Just how connoisseurs matched wine with their meals, I matched mouthwash with whatever Denny fed me.

A basil ridden disaster might be paired with an aged peppermint. Where as a crisp spearmint might compliment a spicy sautéed monstrosity.

Not tonight though. Tonight was different.

For the first time I could remember, I wanted to taste what he had prepared.

Not because it tasted good. But because it intrigued me.

I sat and pondered for a while.

I got up and walked to the living room, and took a seat on an overstuffed, heinous, floral chamois. Immediately I was enveloped in a cloud of dust.
Coughing, I was able to mutter, You really should clean this place up.

Yeah, yeah. Denny hissed. I’ve only had it for a month. It’s not like I plan on staying here long.

He had inherited this fine piece of architecture from his mother’s great aunt. Whom he had met a total of two times. Some sort of family debacle and Denny ended up with full custody. There was more to the story than that but I had blocked out all I thought to be superfluous. All I needed to know was that I had a bedroom and a half bath all to myself, rent free courtesy of the ranting man-boy sitting next to me.

You know, you’re lucky I’m a nice guy.

Yes Denny, I know.

‘Cause most people wouldn’t let a slob like you waltz around here…



Maybe I was delusional to actually consider this a decent place to think.

By the time I reached the landing after the first flight of stairs, Denny’s whining was nearly inaudible.

The numbing was in full swing now, permeating the layers of skin that lined my throat and caressing my uvula.


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