Two Boys, One Cop

I could use some insight here for a better ending y'all...

[Scene opens at the point of a bluff in Boyd, TX. At dawn a cop knocks on the window of an unfamiliar car, rousing the two sleeping, hung-over, 16-yr-old boys inside.]

Cop: (yelling from outside) Mornin’.

Ryan: (shaking Kyle - the driver) Dude, wake up. Cop.

Kyle: (peering sleepily out of the window) Ah shit.

Ryan: What do we do?

Kyle: (rolling down window) I don’t remember calling down to the lobby for a courtesy call.

Cop: Why are you boys sleeping up here? Big party last night?

Kyle: Naw, just passing through. We’re professional football players on our way back to Denver for off-season practice.

Cop: I don’t take kindly to bullshit. I’ll take your license though.

Kyle: The fake or the real one?

Cop: Hand me your entire wallet and get out of the car please.

Ryan: Dude, you don’t even have a fake. What are you doing?

Kyle: (gets out of car handing cop wallet) I had $200 in there when I handed it to you.

Cop: (opens wallet – it’s empty) (to Kyle) Sit your ass down.

Kyle: Yes SIR. Just… whatever you do - don’t look in the trunk.

Cop: (begins searching car)

Kyle: I know that legally you need my permission to search my vehicle.

Cop: (turns to Kyle) The only thing I need is for you to stop talking.

Kyle: No worries - I consent. If you just ask nicely I’ll tell you where the drug paraphernalia is.

Cop: You’re gonna get yourself in some trouble if you don’t stop runnin’ that mouth of yours boy.

Kyle: I’m just trying to be compliant officer. After all, it’s my duty as an Amurrrcan.

Cop: I may be old, but I understand sarcasm… and I caution you to be careful with it.

Kyle: Oh gol. Did you hear that Ryan? We could get jail time for our tone. Hide your Nikes. Not wearing cowboy boots is probably a felony offense here.

Cop: I’ve had about enough of you, kid.

Kyle: I’m not sure what you mean by that. Sir.

Cop: (glares at kyle)

Kyle: (sits on rock)

Cop: (continues tearing though Kyle’s car)

Kyle: That is a beautiful ass crack you have there, sir. Does the academy require a certain size backside to perform your strenuous activities?

Ryan: Seriously dude. Shut up.

Cop: You’d do good to listen to your buddy here.

Kyle: Oh I don’t listen to Ryan. There’s something about convicted rapists that isn’t so trustworthy.

Ryan: Kyle. Really? Not this time, please.

Cop: (to Ryan) You think it’s acceptable to take advantage of women?

Ryan: No sir. I would never do anything of the sort! I treat… women… very well!

Cop: (still tearing through car)

Ryan: I like to take things slow.

Kyle: (kicks rock)

Ryan: I mean. I have GREAT respect for women. I love my Mom.

Cop: (Moves to trunk)

Ryan: If you had a daughter. I would treat her like… like... a princess.

Cop: That’s about enough boy.

Kyle: I still don’t know what you’re looking for. You haven’t even asked us procedural questions. Is the Toys ‘R’ Us open in town? I’d like to pick myself up a shiny police man badge like yours.

Cop: You’re full of piss and vinegar this mornin’. You boys been drinking?

Kyle: Oh, no sir. I choose not to consume that vile liquid.

Cop: (squints at Kyle, then to Ryan) And you boy?

Ryan: I don’t.. (looks at Kyle) I can’t … I.. I… yes sir. I did it. I had a beer. But just a beer!

Kyle: Ugh, you dumbass. Oh, not you sir. I have utmost respect for authority figures. My acquaintance, Ryan. He is a gigantic dumbass as you are now well aware.

Cop: I’m gonna need you to step out of the vehicle son, and come over here for a breathalyzer test.

Ryan: But… what?! But I was honest with you.

Cop: You want me to be proud of you for not lying? God DAMN… you kids these days.

Cop: Alright son, blow long and hard until I say to stop.

Kyle: Using that line turns you on a little, admit it.

Ryan: (laughs, ruining breathalyzer test)

Cop: Again. You know what to do.

Ryan: (blows)

Cop: Congratulations. You came up zeros. You next, boy.

Kyle: Gladly.

Cop: Annnd zero’s. You’re lucky you had time to sleep that off.

Cop: As for you, son. I’m gonna need your license to write you this ticket.

Ryan: BUT. (looking to Kyle and back) I blew zeros.

Cop: However, you admitted to alcohol consumption which in Boyd, is illegal for an underage fella such as yourself.

Ryan: Unbelievable.

Kyle: I’m actually quite astounded by his ability to memorize these laws. It must mean he can read. Amazing.

Cop: You’ll get yours, kid. I can promise you that.

Kyle: Why, what EVER could you mean sir?

Cop: And I hope it’s me who gives it to you.

Kyle: Are you coming on to me sir?

My Fake Boyfriend

“Oh honey, I’m so happy for you,” I winced when I heard the sincerity in Grandma’s voice, “you know, your cousin Kim is probably never gonna get married if she doesn’t meet a man in college. You’re so blessed.”

“Thanks Gramma – I can’t wait for you guys to meet him. I’ll see you in a few days. We’ll be down early to help set up and start cooking.”

“Okay darlin’. You two fly safe. I love you.”

“Love you too, Gramma. Say hi to Grandpa.”

We said, “Buh-bye” at the same time and hung up our phones.

I could just imagine her right now turning to talk to Grandpa, “Oh Jay, aren’t you so happy? I told you she wasn’t a lesbian.”

I, on the other hand, turned to my roommates (who had heard the entire conversation) with a look of desperation. “Dude, did you just make up a boyfriend to your family?” Kate asked with a grin.

I threw my head down on the table into my folded arms and let out a muffled, “… a fake boyfriend who is coming home with me for Thanksgiving.”

Laughter erupted from all sides of our dining room table. Kate finally calmed down enough to get out, “Okay, what the hell? Start from the beginning.”

So reluctantly, I launched into the story about how I hadn’t dated seriously much (as they very well knew), and how that was just great with my family initially, but with my aging (an entire twenty-one years) I had been getting pressure to find someone. It was my family’s belief that there was no dating after college, or that the good ones would all be gone, or that if I didn’t pick a mate soon I would become… wait for it… a lesbian!

Honestly, things had been easier since I’d adopted had my fake boyfriend. My family seemed more pleasant on phone calls, everybody wanted to hear the stories I made up about him, and I was even happier living in these fantasies.

When I had finished telling Kate and Misha the elaborate story I had made up about a rugged, handsome young man from a middle class family with an unmatched work ethic, upstanding moral character, and an unfailing sense of humor, they looked from each other back to me. Misha admitted defeat instantly, “You’re screwed.”

I laughed, “Yeah thanks Mish – I’m well aware.”

“No,” she continued, “We can find you a guy to take home, the only problem is, you described one way too perfect. Couldn’t you make him a free-loader, or an atheist, or even just a Liberal for hell’s sake? Now that we could find.”

I didn’t even laugh, because I knew she was right. What had I gotten myself into?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I went through the list of potential guys in my life, none of whom were worthy of the trip home. Tripp would have taken this as an invitation to ask me to marry him… again. Kyle would probably freak out and tell his entire group of friends that I was a clingy, desperate, creep. Spencer would probably be the best fit, but his family goes to Hawaii every Thanksgiving. Ugh. Going down the list of acquaintances, I realized basically everyone I knew was out – I couldn’t pay these guys to memorize the National Anthem, let alone a fictitious back-story about our meeting or their life that I had constructed. Back to the drawing board.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I went to Church that Sunday with an ear closed to the readings, eyes open to every single man in the joint, and only one prayer – God, please make one of the men in these pews okay with the idea of flying to Nevada next week with a complete stranger and meeting her family under the pretense of their serious dating.

The guy sitting next to me wasn’t half-bad looking, maybe a bit older, but hey – I was in no position to get picky. When the Sign of Peace came around, we turned to shake hands and wish each other peace. He smiled a dopey grin, and ‘shook’ my hand with a dead fish of a ‘grip’. I nearly gagged. Dead fish guy is out.

When Communion came around I caught eyes with a nice looking guy with sandy hair (also a couple years older) on the other side of the Church. He smiled, I blushed. Oh, this was it. All during Mass he looked at me, and I just knew this was the one. When the service ended, I got up in the crowd to leave and walked toward where he was sitting. Our gazes met as we walked closer and closer together. Then out of nowhere a small boy jumped onto his leg yelling, “Dad, hold me. Mom’s holding Jenna – see!” He kept looking at me, as I walked right past his crew. His wife saw him too. What an ass.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I pulled up to Smith’s and got out with my small list of items I needed from the grocery store. I know, right? Genius.

I loitered down the alcohol aisle, but only a bunch of “bro’s” stampeded by, far more concerned with the dollar-off pricing on natty light. As I made my way to the bread aisle, I saw a prospect. He looked well dressed from behind – what a nice change from frat-land Tennessee. I pulled my cart up next to his and reached for the top shelf stumbling on my tippie toes waiting for him to offer to help. When he didn’t, I tapped him gently on the shoulder, “Hey, I’m so sorry, but would you mind grabbing that loaf up there for me?”

He turned and sized me up instantly in his Dolce and Gabanna eyeglasses, “Oh sure hun, no prob. By the way… LOVE what you’ve done with the hair scarf, SO Paris Hilton, but like a classy Paris Hilton. Rawr. ” He winked at me.

I left the food in my basket and ran to the car.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After hours of deliberation, we had dressed me in Kate’s off-the-shoulder black top and a pair of killer red heels. We had a couple of drinks at the house and decided which bars were going to be our best options. Wildhorse Saloon, Broadway, 3rd & Lindsley, and were our first victims.

Wildhorse saloon was great … If I was looking for someone my Dad’s age who wanted to tell me Vietnam stories all night. Hey, come to think of it, maybe the family would like that. Wow, I was getting desperate.

We moved to Broadway. A guy in a button-down came up to us almost instantly; he was funny and seemed to be able to hold a conversation pretty well. It wasn’t until he rolled up his sleeves to “show us his tattoo” and explain his workout regimen that I saw what was going on. Apparently, he’s a Muscle Milk representative. It’s a huge deal… pun intended.

When another man suddenly showed up at my side, and asked me to dance, and I happily agreed. It wasn’t until we were somewhere between a half-step and a jitterbug that I realized this guy was piss-drunk. Awesome. When the song ended, and the entire place was applauding that we were still on our feet, I thanked him saying, “That was some dance. I appreciate it, but my friends want to get going - so we’re outta here. Nice meeting you!” He tried to kiss me. Really? I dodged below his arm and swung around heading briskly for our table.

“Come back sweetie!” he exclaimed swaying from side to side.

I grabbed the girls and didn’t turn back when I heard the thud of him crashing to the dance floor.

By the time we got to 3rd and Lindsley, I needed a stiff drink. I didn’t even look around as I bellied up to the bar and ordered myself a double. “Rough day?” came a voice from behind me.

“Rough week” I held my glass in the air and toasted to him. I turned back to face the bar, examining my remaining options: staging a break-up, paying Kate’s brother, or a life-threatening disease.

“It couldn’t be that bad,” the stranger continued, “A guy today at work had his pants pulled off in front of the entire company during his presentation.”

I finally turned around and remarked sarcastically, “And would you care to explain to me how something like that happens?”

“Tigers.” He smiled.

I cocked my head to the side with narrowed eyebrows, and turned back around. Dang, this guy was cute. He was probably married, or gay, or a complete slut, or… I don’t know… really dumb or something.

“Can I sit with you?” He continued. I didn’t answer and he sat down next to me. “Alright, hit me – what’s so terrible?”

I looked at him, so angry that I almost hated him just for being there.

And I let it all out – every last detail – down to how much I respect Grandma and the last time I got a kiss. When I stopped to breathe, he was still smiling.

“You’re kinda cute, you know that? Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow? Since you’re, how did you put it, “perpetually single?” he laughed.

I looked at him with hard eyes, trying to get a read on him. What was going on? Did he not hear a damn word I just told him?

“You sit there and process, and I’m going to get your number and address from one of your friends over there. I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. My name is Adam, and I have the feeling we have a lot more to discuss before we head to Nevada… like that scar on your hand, the tiger-pants guy, and a better ‘how we met’ story. You fuming at a bar and drinking doubles in search of the perfect man to take home after knowing him for a week doesn’t really seem like you. Deal?”

I just stared at him, like an idiot.

One week later I boarded that plane to Nevada… and Adam boarded with me.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

One year later I entered a chapel to get married… and Adam was there waiting.

“Can I go next, Chris?” Collin asked shyly, peeking over the handlebars of his brand new Mongoose bike. Chris didn’t even turn around from the ramp he was fixing when he responded, “What did I tell you about asking dumb questions, fatass?” Without a word, Collin got off his bike and laid it down.

Half of the neighborhood was lined up to try out the new bike ramp Chris had gotten for his 12th birthday, but not everyone was worthy. Chris wasn’t the oldest boy in the group (one of the newer additions to Oak Street), but he commanded the most respect. He had compiled a posse of five loyal followers: Dev, Steven, Ryan, and the Kilgore brothers from the block over. Together, they built the best ramps, fastest bikes, greatest tree forts, and worst reputations. Everyone wanted in.

Chris had taken the first ride off his ramp and after a solid two seconds in the air landed it perfectly. “Nice bro!” Steven hollered, and the others joined in cheers. “No dude that was bullshit, I want another go.” Chris pushed his way to the front of the line, stood up on his pedals and took another rip. After five turns, he allowed his boys to hit the jump. One at a time they landed and circled back to the yard with wind-whipped hair and big grins. This was way better than the dirt ones they had built down by the canal.

The rest of the boys from the surrounding streets rode their turns, but not Collin.

No, Collin Deitz, the overweight whiner, had lost his chances at riding. The day Collin’s mother charged across the street and explained to Chris’ mother that he and his boys had been shooting Collin with their pellet guns only made things worse.

“Cut me down you guys! Please! I’m sorry – I’ll do whatever you want!” Collin screamed as he hung, tied upside down from a tree branch by the canal. “Well you shouldn’t have run and told mommy then dipshit,” Chris answered Collin, who had now started to cry. After only a few minutes, the boys couldn’t take the annoyance. “You do realize what a huge wimp you are, right?” Ryan said, disgustedly as he brought Collin to the ground with a thud.

But the boys still let him hang around to keep his mother off their backs. So here he was sitting in the grass cross-legged, admiring the other boys and keeping track of the air they were catching. Chris made him get up and fix the ramps every other ride, and sent him down the road to buy Gatorades after a while. “Collin, you have been surprisingly good today,” Chris said, “I mean, nowhere near cool, but at least you haven’t said much.” Everyone laughed.

After Collin had fixed the ramps, Chris patted him on the back. “Alright dude, you can take a ride off my ramp.” “Really!?” Collin gasped. “Yeah, really, “Chris nodded with big, mocking eyes. Collin mounted his bike, almost tipping over the first time. He set his right foot, and glided forward, picking up speed toward the ramp. But it wasn’t enough. As his front tire left the ramp, the back one got stuck, flipping his bike forward and landing on top of Collin.

“Ah, shit,” Chris muttered as the boys walked over to a shell-shocked Collin. Bone was showing on his left arm, and the right one was most likely broken too. The boys all looked to Chris for what to do, as Collin geared up to cry. “Dude,” Chris looked at Collin with wide eyes, “That was so badass. You ripped the hell outta that jump.” Collin peered up at him with a small smile, “I did?” “Yeah man. Didn’t he guys?” They all agreed and sputtered compliments – anything to keep him quiet. “Cool. Cool man,” Collin grinned, “Thanks for letting me try your ramp, but uh… can you go get my mom?”

Chris walked back across the street calmly after a hysterical Mrs. Deitz, and the neighborhood boys helped load Collin into the minivan. From that day on (and much to Mrs. Deitz’ dismay), Chris took Collin under his wing, teaching him control and toughness, and to Collin, it was totally worth two broken arms.

Fiction Ideas

1. I stood, sweating in the fitting room, looking from the dress I was holding to my purse, and back to the dress. I hadn't stolen anything before, well - except for that pair of butterfly earrings when I was four that Mom made me take back with a letter of apology (my ears weren't even pierced). I looked at myself in the dirtied mirror, disgusted by my own desperation. How did I get here?



2. The only thing that was ever hard for me growing up was trying to get into trouble. I can't remember a time I didn't have a girl by my side, I've never had to have a resume or study for a test, and I've never had to worry about anything or anyone but me and football. But things sure change quickly, and now - things are hard for me, but I can't imagine how much harder they are for him. If only he'd kept his head up in that tackle... everybody knows that.



3. "Here, give your arm a rest Rach - I'll pull and you hold the throttle," Riley said as he switched me places on our pull-start four-wheeler. Ten miles or more out of camp, the sun was setting behind the mountains a canyon over, and goose bumps were rising on our arms. Exhausted after 20 pulls, he glared at me, "Why the heck did you let it die?" I just looked away thinking, We'll try again when it's not flooded, and if that doesn't work, somebody'll come lookin’ when they notice two 7-year-old kids and a 660 four-wheeler are missing.



4. With business conferences held monthly in different states, and attended by some of the most intelligent, affluent, and beautiful people in the world, I was proud of myself for staying faithful to my wife of twelve years. I was proud of the three wonderful children we raised together, the lovely home we built, and the traditions we established. I was proud when Stuart let me off early that Thursday night to take my family on a pre-paid bonus vacation. But all that pride died as soon as I saw the grief in her eyes as she held the man I had just shot, the dead man who was with her in my bed.

Don't Need a Damn Holiday

Now I don’t use the ‘L’ word,
‘cause my old man never did.
And I ain’t much for huggin’
since I didn’t as a kid.

And hell no I don’t cry none –
that just idn’t for real men.
Don’t talk about my feelin’s much
‘cept for now and then.

Can’t say I’ve ever 'cuddled',
and don’t think I’d care to.
I don’t give out no compliments,
and don’t need none from you.

But you know where my heart’s at
when you look me in the eye.
To the only woman who’s seen my soul:
I’m yours until I die.

My Crime

Frozen in this wooden chair -
The leg it wiggles just a hair.
Cold floor’s a haven for my stare.
My pulse – it races round…

Wall to wall, the whispers rush,
And burn my sweaty cheeks – full flush.
His gown it flows and feet they brush.
The gavel makes its sound…

He calls my name – my spit is caught.
I want to look, but I cannot.
Frantic mind, torn and distraught,
Just seeking safer ground...

I wish I HAD committed a crime
That I – not THEY – was putrid slime.
I’d let down ALL – not one – this time.
An innocent child clowned…

Welcome Home

Keys dangling from the handle -
Coat shading that lamp’s light
A day too long - soon repaired
by a much longer night

Shuffle up the staircase -
One knotted, breathless mess
Burst into the bedroom
…But slowly we undress

Toss you back late in the evening -
Get my moonlight fill
Drunk off your alluring taste
And wanting you more still

Chests rise and fall with satisfaction -
Entranced in this embrace
20,000 mornings more
Together, love - we face.

I Swam the Shores

I swam the shores,
Fully immersed,
And came out dry –
My body cursed.

I flew for hours
In the skies,
With hair untangled,
Moistened eyes.

I walked for days
Through mountains high –
No aching foot,
No burning thigh.

I lay in flames
That burned hot white –
My skin unharmed
The challenge trite.

And though I hate to lose,
I say –
What I’d give
To hurt one day.