shity east coast dinner and across country

[Axanderdeath]

(judih was very nice and cleaned my work for me and I thnk her..)


Shitty East Coast Dinner and cross country empathy...

The walls are covered with pictures of james dean and marilyn monroe. Yellow nic-stained walls. Waiting for her to show up, Jon taps a smoke on the table and look across the table and out the window. The snow is coming down pretty hard, and that probably is slowing her down, Jon thinks. The waitress comes and looks down at Jon and he looks into her green-orange eyes and slicks his long black hair back with his greasy dirty fingernails and orders a big breakfast with three eggs and 3 pieces of toast, bacon, ham and sausage.

Jon is half way through his meal when she shows up. "You din't wait?" she says and smiles. She is a cute little thing, about 5'7 with an alluring smile and great tits. "Fuck, Jon, that is just like you." The elderly waitress takes a short glance at Susan. Susan has been warned before about her language in the Diner. Susan does not notice the glance. Jon puts his hand up in a cautionary way. "Fuck the old bitch." Susan whispers out. "But it is all go Jon, we are on our way." She smiles as soon as she can see what is obvious delight on Jon's face.

"Okay, sit down Susan. You are making me nervous." Jon liked using lines like that--he liked being cliche' cheesy. "What you having for breakfast?"

"Not going to eat. I'll just watch you eat. You got the car right? We need the car." Susan is leaning over the table and talking loudly into Jon's face. Susan has drunk much more coffee at this point than she normally does--her muscles are spasming and she is like an animal, a fox, a jittery underfed fox with a down trodden coat.

"Got the car. Now shut the fuck up and let me finish. I wish you'd have something though. I hate eating in front of you."

The west coast was a shining new place where anything could happen. And fuck there were jobs out there that were more exciting than working in some fuck restaurant job. If you had a restaurant job out there at least you'd have some nice fucking mountains to look at. Well that's how they looked at it, and did they not make a good looking couple in the brown buick driving out of old Halifax. They won the golden lives!


To Montreal


Picked up a hitch-hiker named Jason. A portly Native guy that had a crude sense of humour. Said he'd like to stay traveling with them as much as possible--he was going all the way west, Vancouver. Jon figured they could lose him in Montreal. Jason would see a strip club and run in with a hard on and never come out... That is what Jon thought.

"Good ta see couple a young kids like ya goin out ta see the world, eh." Jason had a tendency to speak to Jon and Susan as if he had some knowledge about what they were doing. "Reminds me of my son." Susan looked at him with hurt eyes, a river of empathy about to discharge from them. Jason had told them about how his son had died. It was one of the first things Jason talked about. Jon thought it could be Jason's attention grabber. Jon thought how could you ditch a native guy that had a son that committed suicide. Jon knew about some of the stuff that was going on up North. Hated to think that this guy was telling the truth and Jon hated him. Made him feel bad, Jon.

"I am sure he is happy where he is." Susan tried. Susan was good at this type of thing. She reveled in it, Jon thought. "I feel so bad for you. You mind me asking what his name was?"

"Henry." There was some emotion behind Jason's words and his voice cracked a bit. Jon slunk a bit behind the wheel a little ashamed of himself. "All he wanted to do was be an artist. Should have seen his paintings and drawings... here." Jason pulled from his side pocket a piece of paper. It looked old and like it had been soaked a couple times. He unfolded it and held it out. It was a drawing of a tree. Jon thought it was a sad tree. Was not a weeping willow or anything like that, a pine tree in the winter. Nothing around it but a man drinking a bottle sitting on the ground--you could actually make out the Tommy on the coat--the artist made sure you would be able to read that.

"That is real good." Jon said from his slump. Jon wanted to mean what he said but the drawing really was just sad. Maybe, Jon thought, maybe without the kid drinking it would have been good.

"I know." Jason said and bowed his head in a pout. "Fucking kid just was crazy on the fire water you know. Started hanging out with the wrong crowd." Jason then put the paper back in his pocket and from his inside jacket pocket pulled a bottle of whiskey. "You don't mind?" Jason said.

"No, no, go ahead. Just keep it on the low."

Jason got sullen and glossy eyed in the back seat. He ceased making his crude sexual jokes. He sat staring out the window when they drove into Montreal. Jon and Susan both felt bad when they stopped at a motel and watched Jason stumble off to some bar across the street. "See you tomorrow eh," Jason said it like he was a thousand miles away.


Montreal motel room


There was a TV on the dresser and those little bars of soap on the sink. And the towels--too many towels, really more than you ever really needed. Jon grabbed a beer from the mini bar and then said. "Fuck Susan, this shit is expensive. You wanta go grab a 12 pack?" and he handed one to his unimpressed girlfriend.

"Yes master."

"Fuck come on I've been driving all day. Please don't make this into anything." Susan went out the door without a word.

Jon flopped back on the bed and turned on the TV and sipped the 7 dollar beer. TV had little entertaining programming on any of its 150 cable channels. Jon settled on a documentary on the roaring 20's, the kind with the insanely happy guy talking about it. Jon checked out the porn channels for a bit, but had to quickly change back to the documentary when Susan walked in with the beer.

"Jon." She was not pissed off anymore.

"What's wrong Susan?" Susan was breathing heavily and was still holding the beer at the door. She looked stunned.

"Jason's out there Jon, and he ain't no happy camper. He's got a black eye. We should let him in--get him to sleep. I told him the room number." A loud knock came on the door.

"Fuck I don't want that drunk in here!" Jon said.

"Come on Jon you know he won't hurt anyone." Jon did not know that but opened the door anyway to a falling down drunk Jason.

Jason just sat in the corner slouched against the wall, and made an occasional mumble. Jon and Susan sat on the bed and drank beer and looked down on him.

"What should we do?" asked a tipsy Jon. "I don't want to lug this guy across the country."

"We should help him. Call 911."
"What for?"

"We'll get him some help. The help he really needs." Jon picked up the phone and called 911.

"Ah, there is a drunk, passed out guy in our hotel room."

"What was he drinking sir?" said the 911 operator.

"Whiskey is all I know. But he can't stay here. He needs help."

An ambulance came and took Jason away. The paramedic laughed and carried him into the back. "How'd you to kids run into this guy?" one of the paramedics asked.

"We picked him up hitch-hiking," Jon said shortly and then went back in to the hotel room. "You guys can help him. I think he is depressed. His son just died."

"We will bring him to emergency and he will get his stomach pumped most likely."




Geoff Parsons

[judih]

spellchecked version.

Shitty East Coast Dinner and cross country empathy...

The walls are covered with pictures of james dean and marilyn monroe. Yellow nic-stained walls. Waiting for her to show up, Jon taps a smoke on the table and look across the table and out the window. The snow is coming down pretty hard, and that probably is slowing her down, Jon thinks. The waitress comes and looks down at Jon and he looks into her green-orange eyes and slicks his long black hair back with his greasy dirty fingernails and orders a big breakfast with three eggs and 3 pieces of toast, bacon, ham and sausage.

Jon is half way through his meal when she shows up. "You din't wait?" she says and smiles. She is a cute little thing, about 5'7 with an alluring smile and great tits. "Fuck, Jon, that is just like you." The elderly waitress takes a short glance at Susan. Susan has been warned before about her language in the Diner. Susan does not notice the glance. Jon puts his hand up in a cautionary way. "Fuck the old bitch." Susan whispers out. "But it is all go Jon, we are on our way." She smiles as soon as she can see what is obvious delight on Jon's face.

"Okay, sit down Susan. You are making me nervous." Jon liked using lines like that--he liked being cliche' cheesy. "What you having for breakfast?"

"Not going to eat. I'll just watch you eat. You got the car right? We need the car." Susan is leaning over the table and talking loudly into Jon's face. Susan has drunk much more coffee at this point than she normally does--her muscles are spasming and she is like an animal, a fox, a jittery underfed fox with a down trodden coat.

"Got the car. Now shut the fuck up and let me finish. I wish you'd have something though. I hate eating in front of you."

The west coast was a shining new place where anything could happen. And fuck there were jobs out there that were more exciting than working in some fuck restaurant job. If you had a restaurant job out there at least you'd have some nice fucking mountains to look at. Well that's how they looked at it, and did they not make a good looking couple in the brown buick driving out of old Halifax. They won the golden lives!


To Montreal


Picked up a hitch-hiker named Jason. A portly Native guy that had a crude sense of humour. Said he'd like to stay traveling with them as much as possible--he was going all the way west, Vancouver. Jon figured they could lose him in Montreal. Jason would see a strip club and run in with a hard on and never come out... That is what Jon thought.

"Good ta see couple a young kids like ya goin out ta see the world, eh." Jason had a tendency to speak to Jon and Susan as if he had some knowledge about what they were doing. "Reminds me of my son." Susan looked at him with hurt eyes, a river of empathy about to discharge from them. Jason had told them about how his son had died. It was one of the first things Jason talked about. Jon thought it could be Jason's attention grabber. Jon thought how could you ditch a native guy that had a son that committed suicide. Jon knew about some of the stuff that was going on up North. Hated to think that this guy was telling the truth and Jon hated him. Made him feel bad, Jon.

"I am sure he is happy where he is." Susan tried. Susan was good at this type of thing. She reveled in it, Jon thought. "I feel so bad for you. You mind me asking what his name was?"

"Henry." There was some emotion behind Jason's words and his voice cracked a bit. Jon slunk a bit behind the wheel a little ashamed of himself. "All he wanted to do was be an artist. Should have seen his paintings and drawings... here." Jason pulled from his side pocket a piece of paper. It looked old and like it had been soaked a couple times. He unfolded it and held it out. It was a drawing of a tree. Jon thought it was a sad tree. Was not a weeping willow or anything like that, a pine tree in the winter. Nothing around it but a man drinking a bottle sitting on the ground--you could actually make out the Tommy on the coat--the artist made sure you would be able to read that.

"That is real good." Jon said from his slump. Jon wanted to mean what he said but the drawing really was just sad. Maybe, Jon thought, maybe without the kid drinking it would have been good.

"I know." Jason said and bowed his head in a pout. "Fucking kid just was crazy on the fire water you know. Started hanging out with the wrong crowd." Jason then put the paper back in his pocket and from his inside jacket pocket pulled a bottle of whiskey. "You don't mind?" Jason said.

"No, no, go ahead. Just keep it on the low."

Jason got sullen and glossy eyed in the back seat. He ceased making his crude sexual jokes. He sat staring out the window when they drove into Montreal. Jon and Susan both felt bad when they stopped at a motel and watched Jason stumble off to some bar across the street. "See you tomorrow eh," Jason said it like he was a thousand miles away.


Montreal motel room


There was a TV on the dresser and those little bars of soap on the sink. And the towels--too many towels, really more than you ever really needed. Jon grabbed a beer from the mini bar and then said. "Fuck Susan, this shit is expensive. You wanta go grab a 12 pack?" and he handed one to his unimpressed girlfriend.

"Yes master."

"Fuck come on I've been driving all day. Please don't make this into anything." Susan went out the door without a word.

Jon flopped back on the bed and turned on the TV and sipped the 7 dollar beer. TV had little entertaining programming on any of its 150 cable channels. Jon settled on a documentary on the roaring 20's, the kind with the insanely happy guy talking about it. Jon checked out the porn channels for a bit, but had to quickly change back to the documentary when Susan walked in with the beer.

"Jon." She was not pissed off anymore.

"What's wrong Susan?" Susan was breathing heavily and was still holding the beer at the door. She looked stunned.

"Jason's out there Jon, and he ain't no happy camper. He's got a black eye. We should let him in--get him to sleep. I told him the room number." A loud knock came on the door.

"Fuck I don't want that drunk in here!" Jon said.

"Come on Jon you know he won't hurt anyone." Jon did not know that but opened the door anyway to a falling down drunk Jason.

Jason just sat in the corner slouched against the wall, and made an occasional mumble. Jon and Susan sat on the bed and drank beer and looked down on him.

"What should we do?" asked a tipsy Jon. "I don't want to lug this guy across the country."

"We should help him. Call 911."
"What for?"

"We'll get him some help. The help he really needs." Jon picked up the phone and called 911.

"Ah, there is a drunk, passed out guy in our hotel room."

"What was he drinking sir?" said the 911 operator.

"Whiskey is all I know. But he can't stay here. He needs help."

An ambulance came and took Jason away. The paramedic laughed and carried him into the back. "How'd you to kids run into this guy?" one of the paramedics asked.

"We picked him up hitch-hiking," Jon said shortly and then went back in to the hotel room. "You guys can help him. I think he is depressed. His son just died."

"We will bring him to emergency and he will get his stomach pumped most likely."




Geoff Parsons