by Don P. Bick
onto her husband. Thankfully, I was bigger than him.
Somehow I was able to reach the outside patio. Fresh air. It took a long time for the laughter to die down inside. The effects of the alcohol began to wear off in the cool night air. Or so I thought. I'm embarrassed. The only way to leave is by going back in and crossing the room to the front door. I decide to wait a while outside until some of the others leave. Then I remember her. In moments I again become the hunter.
I move from window to window. Peering in. Trying to stay behind bushes if possible. I don't see her. Can't find her. I begin to panic. Maybe she left. It had been less than an hour since I first laid eyes on her. Already I had planned the next twenty years together. All my hopes and dreams dashed. I'm devastated. Bereaved. My shoulders slump. I dejectedly walk over to the patio steps and sit down. I don't want to live.
I hear footsteps behind me. I turn around and look. I almost faint. It's her. Alone. She looks so beautiful. Light pink lipstick. My favorite. I try to find the hunter. He's gone. Somehow I squeak out a hi. She asks if she can sit beside me. I nod, cursing the hunter.
Now I can smell her. I want her even more. We visit. Her voice is a little strange, but pleasant. The hunter begins to awaken. I take her hand. She doesn't resist. I lean forward. She hesitates, then meets me halfway for a short tender kiss. I think to myself she should do something about those unsightly mustache hairs. I ignore them and look into her rich blue eyes.
The hunter returns. I reach up and stroke her golden hair. I draw her head toward mine. After a long and passionate kiss, we separate. And continue to stare into each other's eyes. A lengthy period of enjoyable silence goes by before she asks the fatal question, "Can you tell I used to be a man?"
I still wake up nights bathed in sweat over the incident. To this day I never look at blue‑eyed blondes. Well, almost never. At least not while drinking.
FIRST DATE
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Why do I have to meet her parents? We're only going to a movie. Guess I'm just nervous. Seventeen. My first date. Glad dad let me use his car. Mine is always up on blocks.
Almost seven. Got to go. I look good. Blue slacks. Long sleeve shirt, open in front. Darker blue sport coat. Black loafers. Maybe a little over dressed for the movies. That's okay, I’m meeting Cindy's parents.
I jump in dad's car and quickly back down the driveway. It's already dark. I hold back from laying a rubber strip down the street in front of the neighbors. Still, I hurry to Cindy's across town. I’m in a good mood. I've wanted to ask her out for months. Finally, I get up the nerve and now I have to see her parents first. Oh well, she's worth it.
Halfway across town I begin to realize what I had done. I’m actually on my way to Cindy's. The girl I've been after to go out with me for months. I start sweating from nervousness. That's all I need, sweaty smelly arm pits on my first date. Almost there.
I find her house easily. It's the one with the big lawn in front. The house sets back from the sidewalk more than the others around it. I park out in the street and turn out the lights. I'm ten minutes early. I sit for just a moment in the dark and try to compose myself. Try to will my armpits to dry and quit soaking my shirt. It seems the more I will it to stop the more it continues. I grab my breathe spray and squirt three large shots in my mouth. My eyes water as I swallow. Wouldn’t want bad breath on my first date. It's time. I can't delay any longer. I open the door.
I look good. I can feel it. Even though it's dark the street lights give me plenty of light. There is a chill in the air, I hope it's working on my armpits. It's early October. Someone parked too close to the hedge in the driveway. I have to go around and cross the grass. I don't mind, just don't want to get my shoes all wet from the lawn. I test it. It seems to be dry. I hurry to the front door and ring the bell.
I don't wait long. The door opens. It's her father, I assume. A big guy. I mean a really big guy. He doesn't say anything. He’s listening to the TV. The news. Something about an armed robbery on 14th. I say "Hi, nice to meet you." He motions me inside, still listening to the news.
He points to the formal living room. The one no one ever uses. The furniture looks almost new - and expensive. Thick white carpet covers the floor, it is new. I go in and sit on one end of the sofa. There are two of them facing one another, with a small coffee table in between. Cindy’s dad goes into the other room to finish watching the story on TV about the robbery.
I'm really nervous. Cindy’s dad didn't seem too interested in visiting so maybe this won't be so bad after all. Cindy will come down and we’ll be on our way. The room smells funny. I look around but don't see anything.
Cindy’s mother enters the room. She’s carrying a tray of glasses and soft drinks. She sets it on the coffee table in front of the two sofas and fills the glasses. Now I can see where Cindy gets her good looks. Her dad comes in shortly thereafter. He doesn't look happy about having to leave the news. I smile and greet them both. Cindy shows up, looking great. I'm proud. She sits on the opposite end of the sofa from me. We face her parents.
I try and look relaxed, like I do this all the time. I lean back and place my right leg up over the other. I can't figure out what that smell is in the room. I try and smell my arm pits without being too conspicuous. Just a slight turn of my head and a nonchalant sniff. Not me. Must be Cindy's father. Poor guy.
No one says anything for a few moments. Cindy's mother begins the conversation. That's when I see it. Dog doo on my right shoe. Brown smashed and smelly dog doo. It looked like it was barely hanging on to the sole of my loafer. Now I can really smell it. It reeks to high heaven. What do I do now? I can't put my foot down on the thick white carpet. The carpet. I slowly turn my head and look across the floor to the door where I had entered. Brown splotches. All the way from the doorway to the sofa. Her father is big. He's looking at me.
I lower my foot. Trying not to attract attention. Cindy's mother has smelled something also. She's trying to figure out what it is. I rest my heel on the carpet, making sure I don't place my shoe all the way down. It smells to high heaven in the room. Cindy is smiling. I begin to get mad. How can she sit there and smile at a time like this?
We visit for a couple of minutes. I see Cindy's mom discreetly looking around trying to figure out what it is that smells so terrible. Her dad begins to get a whiff of something also. Cindy must have a clogged nose. She doesn't seem to notice anything.
We talk a little longer. I'm waiting for the right time to say we better get going. We still have lots of time. They know it. The smell is overpowering now. Cindy's mom asks me a question. I have to ask her to repeat it. Do I have a job? I begin to answer.
I don't know why I did it. I must have been concentrating on the answer to the question. I raised my right foot to cross my legs. In route my foot had to go above the corner of the coffee table. Over my drink. Off fell the dog doo. Everybody watched as the brown mass plopped into my glass, spilling the contents onto the table.
I'm dying. I couldn't contain myself. I start laughing. Hysterics actually. I don't know what else to do. Dog doo. In my glass. I look at Cindy's dad, I'm dead. That is if he gets a hold of me. Cindy's mom looks ill. Cindy is. In fact, I barely get out of the way before she throws up all over the sofa, coffee table and carpet.
I get up and start running. I hear a bellow behind me. I know he's after me. I run harder. I go all the way to the car scared to death, before I look around. He isn't there. I'm relieved, really relieved.
My first date. It took me six months to get my nerve up to ask for another. It wasn't with Cindy.
ROLLER COASTER RIDE
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Noise. Screams of fright piercing the afternoon air. Glee. Cars rapidly rolling over the track. Clickity-clat.
I wait in line.
The ticket booth. Two dollars please. Rushing the moment in my fervent attempt to speed up the process, I thrust my money through the window. Admit one.
Clutching my small green ticket I move to the back of the ne
xt line. I wait. Through each ride I move forward and wait. People get on, they get off. I stand in line.
The line. Nervousness. The lady ahead of me is trying to get out of it. Butterflies. No one can know, I look cool. Another ride is loaded. I move forward.
One more ride, then me. My first ever.
Next. I’m sweating. No one can tell, I still look cool. The cars empty as I wipe the palms of my hands, nonchalantly on the back of my Levis. No one noticed. I move forward.
My legs begin shaking.
The man grabs my arm and hurries me toward the middle of the first car. Too fast. I want to re-think the situation. Too late.
The car begins to move. The bar comes down to hold me inside.
Clickity-clat. Why do I now have to go to the bathroom? Too late. We start climbing. My stomach is churning. Three hot dogs. Cotton candy. Two large cokes. I try to forget the hamburger with onion.
Steadily upward.
The crest. The man next to me has a death grip on the bar. So do I. But I still try and look cool. A scream. A woman behind me. We haven’t even started down yet. My hair stands on end upon hearing her high pitched wail. I’m scared, but look cool, I think.
Down.
The man next to me looks stark white. Yelling and screaming. I want to join them. It wouldn’t be cool. Blowing hair. Wind in my face. Too late. My fingers are curled around the