LMA (Leave Me Alone): A Short, Satirical Sketch (or short, short humorous story) 8/11

"Leave me alone." The dreaded pronouncement fell from her soft, pouty, full lips like a ton of bricks; and it neatly floored me-the way only such a dreadful command can. Yet, it was not one that I was unfamiliar with or that was new to me, either. Oh, no-but that is another story: another dark, scary, sad tale.
She stood, my half-Asian, rather Hispanic-looking inamorata, hands on hips: a bodily gesture and stance of hers with which I was getting all too familiar-and deploring the sight of; even if it did afford me a slight amount of oddly abject arousal given how much of her full, voluptuous body (with it's large, round, firm, proud breasts, wide child-bearing hips and amazing, arousing poetic contours all over)-glaring at me with those soulful, dusky, soft now fiery and hard, eyes.
Her face, much of it's smooth, tawny skin taut, was frozen in a rictus of, if not rage, then hyper-exasperation.
Beneath those ranked lines of lights, beside the dwarfing, linear mass of one half-stocked wall of goods-cereals-in the aisle in which we stood and has our important but impromptu tete-a-tete, and confronted by that harshness and imperviousness present on that normally smooth and happy and welcoming face of hers, all I could do was stumble and stammer...which only incensed her more.
Yet, she was so sensuous and sultry and salacious when she was angry, that I stayed, as I liked to do: I liked to linger near her at all times, for as long as I could when it was viable, and love often filled me and motivated me when she was welcoming and talkative, but now only raw, plain, pure, fiery lust induced me to remain....that and a modicum of genuine curiosity regarding the apparent nadir to which our crumbling situation: our relationship: had sunk that I longed to satisfy. For, if we were over, if we were no longer friends, if we would have no more to do with one another, I wanted to know...so that, in final despair, I could go home and committ suicide that very day, if possible and timely..but then, the late summer traffic was so long and congested! Thus, though her cherubic face had become one that, though still frankly beautiful, assayed to outshine Medusa's-and in it gaze, my tongue was stone, a juddering rock in my dry, coppery mouth and my stance was gelid, my position frore, my station and posture a juxtaposition of frozen and stony.
I stood as motionless as a log, caught and crackling in the anhydrous conflagration blazing unchecked from those eyes.
And, was I concupiescent?
Oh boy and oh brother was I!
I think sometimes that various women-especially, somewhat ironically, the sexiest ones-forget the power that their bodies and faces have over us; either that, or they just don't care...I'm not entirely sure which.
Here's one absolutely definitive and truthful statement about which you can be sure: that many women are one of the greatest-or even THE greatest-psychological torturers and tormentors-and my inamorata and coworker was no exception.
Still, when I last hugged her, about 3 months ago, I had had a large, painfully noticeable erection-and though it was jabbing her upperthight, against which glorious smoothness, tightness and warmth it lazed contentedly-content to remain there-ore perhaps someplace else; but still located on (or in) her body-forever. Yet, did she feel my manhood resting against, thrusting at, throbbing against her then-or, if she did, did she remotely acknowledge it?
No; she didn't!
And now, once again, she seemed oblivious of the sultriness and salaciousness her angry body and face and eyes exuded-and also the tent that began to irrupt from the crotch of my pants, that I tried hard to conceal, even going so far as to rip a cereal box from the wall and hold it against me, thus hopefully hiding it!.......and as she glared at me and said a few further things-most of which, perhaps given their apparent superfluity in the heat of this crucible and in light of her recent pronouncement, were ignored at the instant of their verbalization and vociferation by me-I remembered one other of the four major times (there had been literally hundreds of minor ones) in which she had aroused me to the point where she had awakened my slumberous manhood....not, of course, that this is the key thrust of my story, but: It had been one night, early on in my tenure at the supermarket, when her and I had not known each other very long, and this had been about six months ago, though now it seemed and odd confluence of time in which, to my memory, the outlandish yet wondrous incident seemed to have happened both a thousand years and one day ago; anyway, I had been out retrieving the many wayward carts of the establishment as had then been my wont of a late spring's balmy evening and, preparatory to the nightly temporary closure of the store, lining many of those carts I found and collected in three to six rows in the area between our store and the nearest one: a video store: which consisted structurally of only one wall, a vast, outspreading roof and a floor paved with concrete, in which the only constant landmarks-though even some of these would shift positions over the days and weeks and months and years-were trash barrels (especially the trash barrels would be moved often) three soda vending machines lined up like the usual suspects at a witness viewing, and one, lone, rusted bike rack, at which I always parked my accumulated cars nightly. Now, on this particular evening, my inamorata, while on her break, adjourned to the...........................................................................................................................


Author's Note: This story, while partly autobiographical, is largely embellished and exaggerated and hyperbolized in order to effect laughter, to heighten tension and to increase humor. It is very descriptive, especially in a borderline risque way, in order to continue that comedy. For, the tale might not be funny if that was not the case-if I had not used that particular ancient device. Still, for all intents and purposes, because I just started it last night, it is yet unfinished.

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A Comment, Part Two 7/01

The wind is really picking up outside...becoming buffeting. I wonder if we will lose the power-yet again? For like the nine hundredth time in the twelve years that I have lived here?!

Comments

Some people like my stories (the satiric, minimalistic, realistic ones in addition to the bizarre, occult, strange, weird, wholly unrealistic ones) and some people don't, I guess. Or, I would if I had some goddamn input on them (not to mention my poems)!

Brief Notes on a Short Story Mixing Comedy and Horror that I Want To Write (Which Came To Me While at RA) 7/01

Simply, while I was waiting for my interview at Rite-Aid to begin today, I sat in the alcove near the pharmacy department, and an old, gross, ugly, red-headed, doughy-faced, short woman hobbled by with her cane, started to sit in a chair far from me, and then changed her old, foolish mind at the last moment and sat in a chair nearest me. She was waiting for her prescription to be filled; I was waiting for my interview to start, for the manager to come get me. Quite frankly, she repulsed me, and I grew sickened at the sight and thought of her...and I looked at her cane several times, wondering what I would do if she went crazy and started hitting me with it. I mean, what would I, what could I do in that situation? That was a major conundrum to me, for I would have to protect myself, if the decrepit lady somehow had the ability to really thwack a person hard with her cane, and thus damage me, and what would the penalty be for protecting myself from some wicked, crazy, witchlike lady? God knows given some of the stupid laws in our country, ones that don't protect people very well. And in that instant, as I imagined the old bitch hitting me over and over with her steel, rubber-tipped cane in some kind of insane ecstasy, I came up with the ultimate idea for a story. The story is of a young man, waiting for an interview, who an old woman hits with her cane, and he is forced to defend himself against her somehow titanic onslaughts and assaultive rage. Obviously, as he is young and strong and she is weak and old, he kills her, but most viciously. Perhaps his rage was stirred up by her insanity and repulsiveness and egregious annoyance. Whatever the reason, the result is especially gory...yet deserved, at least within the framework of the story. But the whole thing starts in the office of the manager as he, the young man of the story, Our Hero, is being questioned by the police and to them he tells the story, the very strange story of the two assaults, of the altercation. Perhaps even I can add a touch of the occult, macabre and supernatural to the story, by making the woman actually out to be a witch, a real, true, awful, evil witch...who must be killed; at least that way, the young man of the story, and not to mention me, doesn't seem so bad and himself insane, if the story is actually just a tale of a tiny battle between good and evil, with my main character naturally representing good, and the doughy-faced old crone representing evil. At any rate, it is, to me, a good and interesting and highly entertaining story.
Although, if fiction of that gory and awful and eerie sort, where the mundane turns bizarre, is not to the liking of other people, if they would prefer something more realistic, then I could always tell the actual tale of what really happened today. That would be a good story, too.....I guess.

A URL of Intense Technical Poetry of which I am Informing The World Entire (as it is of Singular Importance...AH's!) 6/23

The following is my URL on my Tagged.com profile: http://tagged.com/neophyticdotcomergiventoarticulateness27

Advertisement;Self....Magic Bus...Comment On. Built-in Instant Comment/Ad 6/21

I don't want to cause a fuss, but can you ride my magic bus? That is, visit, join and follow my goddamn blog? I have no comments, no readers, no followers-nothing! This is unfortunate, for I am a nice, funny, interesting, wonderful, wondrously intelligent, great person, and a damn good writer to boot...therefore you or someone (especially considering I have had the courtesy to follow your blog and that of others, as well) should read, comment on and follow mine...or at least check it out and vote on my polls that I made. Something, anything. I hate having to advertise myself in this way, plus like almost force people to look at it...but it is fine, good, intelligent, wholesome and normal...if a tad intellectual, and it should be read and commented on. So, as I have had the courtesy to comment on and follow your blog, the very least you could do is follow mine. Thank you very much. Goodbye. Follow, read, comment. Bye :)

My Resume 6/21/2010-Monday; Et Cetera,

Douglas Earl Cate

Contact Information


Email Address: dougcool66@yahoo.com

Website: http://writerlypainterlykitteryman-dcool27.blogspot

My Profile and Personal Paragraph


I am a very interesting, intelligent individual who often takes the initiative in any and all work-related matters. Thus, I do not always have to be ordered about...unlike some people, people who constantly need to either delegate or relegate...neither one applies to me, I am a hands-on sort of person; which is somewhat of a contrast given my overall immensity of intelligence, but despite that palatial gloriousness of word, thought, action and deed and speech, I can be just as manual as the most menial, unlettered sort. However, I would prefer not to, and would prefer to have my less tangible talents be given a chance to thrive. However, such is not always possible in this world of ours, which I understand-for I am nothing if not also a realist.





Employment History : 1999-2009




Sacker [From 3/2006 to 2/2009]
Market Basket
Portsmouth, NH
At this job I:
Retrieved Carts
Provided Customer Service
Sacked Items,
Disposed of Refuse
Cleaned
Mopped
Followed Orders
Reorganized Shelved Items
Worked Closely with The Grocery/Stocking Department
Performed Various Occasional Odd Jobs
Etc.


Freight Clerk [From 8/2005 to 12/2005]
Kaybee Toys
Kittery, ME
At this job I:
Unloaded Trucks
Priced Items
Arranged Items
Opened Packages
stocked shelves,
Cleaned
Mopped,
Customer Service
Disposed of Refuse,
Etc
.



Sacker/Deli Clerk [From 10/2002 to 1/2004]
Market Basket
Portsmouth, NH
At this job I:
Sacked Items
Sliced Meats and Cheeses
Cleaned
Retrieved Carts
Mopped,
Provided Customer Service
Disposed of Refuse,
Item and Shelf Rearrangement
Etc.


Cashier [From 4/2001 to 7/2002]
BJ's Wholesale Club
Portsmouth, NH
Cashiering,
Cart retrieval
Customer service,
Refuse disposal
Cleaning
Mopping,
Item Replacement
Food Prep,
Etc.


Recovery Clerk [From 6/2000 to 10/2000]
BJ's Wholesale Club
Portsmouth, NH
Cart retrieval
Cleaning
Item Replacement
Replacement
Mopping
Customer Aid
Refuse Disposal
Shelf Organization
Etc.




Sales Associate [From 7/1999 to 9/1999]
Converse, Inc.
Kittery, ME
Sales
Customer Service
Cleaning
Refuse Disposal
Mopping
Vacuuming
Cashiering
Stocking
Inventory,
Etc.







Education



High School Diploma [ From Sep-1998 to Jun-2001]
Marshwood High School
South Berwick, ME
GPA: 2.84 High Grades in: Introduction to Film and British Literature
Five other classes attended.



HS [ From Sep-1997 to Jun-1998]
R.W. Traip Academy
Kittery, ME
GPA: 2.35 .
Seven Courses Attended