Post by ozran on Aug 12, 2005 9:51:34 GMT -5
Now as you will find out, this story starts not at the beginning but the end. The end of a beautiful life cultivated and pressed into something ugly. A life that should have been filled with surprises, knowledge, and happiness but on the contrary fell short only to fall in repetitive change!
Our story takes us to a retirement community in California called Hemet. Here if caught too deep, one can be pulled into social norm frenzy until left crushed and shattered. This was the case for one man, James.
An aroma of burnt toast and cigarettes filled the kitchen as James slunk into the room. He wore a white wife-beater with a small rip on the right side exposing his ripped body. He caught a glimpse of a brown slipper sticking to the floor, and then slowly followed its trail up to see Tiffany, his girlfriend, enjoying the day’s first cigarette. Smiling at her he slightly jerked his head and went straight for the refrigerator. He opened it as a cockroach scurried from the darkness under the kitchen table and finally making its way to a food cabinet on the other side of the room. Looking for something to relieve his hunger pains, his eyes finally settled on the empty bottle of skim milk pushed to the back so not to be noticed. White crust had already stared to form on the lid of the empty milk container. Grabbing it, he lifted it to his chest as to show Tiffany the atrocity that had been committed. Bulging his eyes and jerking his shoulders back as to give proper body language for the situation. Tiffany, making her breakfast, glanced at James, paused, and then went back to cooking her eggs. With a feeling of rage, James protruded his jaw even more than normal and barked in a deep voice, “What is that supposed to mean?”
Tiffany acted as if nothing had happened. She busied herself more at the stove, shuffling from side to side. James then flailed his hands then threw the empty milk carton away. His large body and tall stature could have scared anyone else. With one motion, he grabbed a plastic plate, and tossed it on the table. Stained with use, the plastic plate had bubbles where the microwave had taken its toll on the object. James then took a fork and proceeded to sit down. The chair gave a screech as he seated himself at the sticky table. He sat up at first then settled for a half slouch, letting his head rest one the back of the chair. Closing his eyes, he folded his hands, and then spoke again in a much softer voice “You make me my eggs yet, woman?”
Tiffany dropped the towel she was holding and turned around to meet the unsuspecting giant.
“What do you mean your eggs?” She squinted her eyes, looking directly at him, his eyes were still shut and he seemed not to notice her pathetic attempt to get his attention. Giving a sigh, she turned around and put her cigarette butt in the ashtray on the counter next to the stove. Letting the last wisps of the smoke exit though the screen door of the house, she looked back at James carefully considering what he was thinking. She pulled her blonde hair to the side so as not to obstruct her view. Just at that moment, he lifted his head, sat straight up and proceeded to rest his forearms on the old table, syrup and other remnants of old supper and lunches before stuck to his underarms. Bringing his arms back up to see pasty goo of leftovers stringing from the table to his arm, he looked up, only to see a satisfied smirk on Tiffany’s face, then one small chuckle. James pushed his chair out again and headed for the sink to rinse off his acquired stickiness
“You drink all the milk, don’t make me food, and are too stupid to even clean the table! You are lucky I don’t just leave and find someone better!”
Tiffany crossed her arms abruptly. As the sound of James’ voice telling her what a terrible person she was went on the more she became upset. After enduring a couple more minutes of yelling she screamed, “That’s it!” James stopped in his tracks he was not going anywhere. “I’m leaving!”
James just looked at her and laughed. As if even the thought of it was so unbelievable, that it was not true. “You’re leaving me?” James pointed back to himself. “Ha! And where will you go, your mother’s?”
Tiffany walked into her room and grabbed her two suit cases already packed. Then in a fast trot she left. The door still open creaked at the hinges as it halted to a stop.
“You’ll be back!” Bam! James slammed the door so hard it cracked the inside drywall.
“She better be back,” he whispered to himself he looked down, grinding his teeth. For a second thought about a cavity he had, then went over to the couch to sit down. Just before he could the phone rang.
“
“Ring….Ring!”
“Heh…see that her right there just begging to come back.”
Waiting for almost the last ring, he picked up the phone. “What!”
There was a short pause then the other side answered: “Uh…um… oh…hello? Hi, this is Chris Matthews.”
James’ eyes widened when he realized it was a man and not a woman on the phone. “Oh! Sorry, who’s this?” James had heard the first time but could not remember who Chris Matthews was.
“Chris Matthews! We studied together all through high school! Remember, ninth grade science, you almost caught my arm on fire with the Bunsen Burner.” James smiled as he remembered a skinny brown-haired boy with glassed that seemed to be glued to his head.
“Yea! Hey how’s it going?”
“Not too bad, I’m married now!” He said, raising his voice a little.
“Really.” this came as quite a surprise to James. The last time he had met Chris he would have been considered a “loser”. His hair was always messy, he wore big glasses, and people, including James, called him “pole” because he was so skinny. “Well, great! What’s her name?”
“Mary Young, and that’s not all, I have a son now, named Jason.” Chris sounded like he was proud of his achievements.
“That’s great.” James said more subtle this time.
“Well, anyway,” the old friend replied, “that’s not why I called . . . What I did call you for is to invite you to a barbeque we are having this Saturday at five.”
James laughed at the thought of hanging out with an old school nerd. He thought it might be amusing just to show himself off to Chris. “Sure, I’ll be there,” he replied.
“Great! I sent the directions to your email”
“You did?” James seemed surprised that he would already know his email address.
“It’s tricky475@gmail.com?” For a second Chris sounded hesitant.
“Yup, that’s the one.” James, now in a better mood, replied.
“OK, we’ll see ya there.”
“OK, bye.” James waited for the customary second goodbye, then hung up the phone. “Man! I haven’t seen that guy in ages.” He walked over to the couch and sat down to think, about the present, the past, how he used to pick on Chris all through high school. They used to be best friends. They would always work on projects together, usually getting A’s. Then ninth grade rolled around. James had met Alice Livingston, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. He remembered coming home looking at himself in the mirror and thinking.
“Man, no girl would like a puny little guy like me.” He remembered studying the skeleton frame his body formed. After that, he had joined advanced conditioning. For hours, he worked on bodybuilding, neglecting his homework, chores and, most importantly, friends. He remembered now how he made Chris do his homework and projects because he was spending too much time working on his triceps, abs, quads, or something else. He recalled how Chris begged him to come to college with him, but he had refused to stay in contact with his old friend. It almost made him sad, yet happy, in a way, that they would be meeting again. James felt this time he would show Chris the ropes, show him how cool he had become and maybe even get Chris a cute girlfriend. James was sure he could find someone prettier then his wife.
“I bet she’s two-hundred pounds,” he said out loud, almost waking himself up.
For the next couple of days Chris was on James’ mind. “What a nerd!” He thought and then laughed to himself.
Finally, Saturday evening rolled around. James got the directions off the computer then set off in his small white Honda.
“OK, now, let’s see here.” He lifted the Map Quest map so he could see. “Twelve miles away, great! Out in the country.” He rolled down his window and backed up his car. The rear view mirror had snapped off, so he had to resort to other methods of viewing the road. When he finally arrived at Chris’s house at 1829 Goorowcom Road, he questioned if he was at the right house. It was big, not tall, but wide, surrounded by a long iron fence. Only two other houses stood near it that could compare to it in size. Driving more slowly, James rolled to the speaker at the front gate. There as a small note on the side that read: “To open gate press 17639.”
James put the code in and entered what he assumed to be the estate. He parked his car and followed the sounds of a crowd laughing and having a good time. He could now see that he had parked on the wrong side of the house. The other side was filled with nice cars, much nicer then his. Entering the pool area, he looked around. He saw a man on the barbeque cooking steaks on the grill and decided to go find out if that was Chris. Tapping once on the shoulder he was relieved to find he had done something right. There stood Chris, now much taller, wearing the same style glasses he wore in high school, but much nicer. He now combed his hair instead of letting it be messy and his teeth were straight.
“James! Good to see you, I’m glad you made it!” Chris stuck out his hand to meet James’.
“Wow, good to see you, too!” James’ voice had started to lose fullness. “Nice barbeque,” he tried to say, trying not to show his discomfort at feeling out of place.
“Well, that’s not the nicest part,” Chris smiled, and then looked at a beautiful woman walking towards them both. “You haven’t met my wife yet, have you?” He held his arms out to the buxom woman.
“Uh, uh, no.” James found himself staring and quickly looked away.
“James, this is my wife Mary; Mary, this is my good friend James.”
“Hi,” Mary said politely.
“Hi,” James said too loudly and eagerly.
“I have heard a lot about you.” She commented.
“You have?” He was truly surprised this time.
“Yes, all good, though.” She smiled, then added, “Well, I’ll leave you two to talk.”
“OK, bye, honey.” Chris said as she walked away, then turned to James. “She’s a model.” He winked. “We met while she was doing a shoot in New York.”
“New York? What were you doing there?” James asked, more to keep the conversation alive than because he wanted to know.
“I was on a business trip, didn’t you know?” He queried.
“Know what?” James said, pulling his eyebrows together.
It was Chris’ turn to be surprised. “Google!” He laughed. “It’s me; well, not only me, there’s also Matt, Mike, and Brad.”
“You mean you started ‘Google’?”
“Well, sort of, and built it, but it’s a long story. Why don’t you sit down and have something.”
“Oh, that, er. . . Well, I could only come for a second, I have to be going.” James turned away before Chris could even say good-bye and walked to his car. As he sped back down the road, something was bothering him. . . Something. He had everything, the figure, the muscles, the power. . . Yet Chris, his nerdy friend, got the “girl.” Where, he thought over and over again, had he gone wrong?
--------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote this to show the importance of not "lusting" or become obsessed with social norms and how they can adventually destroy us.
Our story takes us to a retirement community in California called Hemet. Here if caught too deep, one can be pulled into social norm frenzy until left crushed and shattered. This was the case for one man, James.
An aroma of burnt toast and cigarettes filled the kitchen as James slunk into the room. He wore a white wife-beater with a small rip on the right side exposing his ripped body. He caught a glimpse of a brown slipper sticking to the floor, and then slowly followed its trail up to see Tiffany, his girlfriend, enjoying the day’s first cigarette. Smiling at her he slightly jerked his head and went straight for the refrigerator. He opened it as a cockroach scurried from the darkness under the kitchen table and finally making its way to a food cabinet on the other side of the room. Looking for something to relieve his hunger pains, his eyes finally settled on the empty bottle of skim milk pushed to the back so not to be noticed. White crust had already stared to form on the lid of the empty milk container. Grabbing it, he lifted it to his chest as to show Tiffany the atrocity that had been committed. Bulging his eyes and jerking his shoulders back as to give proper body language for the situation. Tiffany, making her breakfast, glanced at James, paused, and then went back to cooking her eggs. With a feeling of rage, James protruded his jaw even more than normal and barked in a deep voice, “What is that supposed to mean?”
Tiffany acted as if nothing had happened. She busied herself more at the stove, shuffling from side to side. James then flailed his hands then threw the empty milk carton away. His large body and tall stature could have scared anyone else. With one motion, he grabbed a plastic plate, and tossed it on the table. Stained with use, the plastic plate had bubbles where the microwave had taken its toll on the object. James then took a fork and proceeded to sit down. The chair gave a screech as he seated himself at the sticky table. He sat up at first then settled for a half slouch, letting his head rest one the back of the chair. Closing his eyes, he folded his hands, and then spoke again in a much softer voice “You make me my eggs yet, woman?”
Tiffany dropped the towel she was holding and turned around to meet the unsuspecting giant.
“What do you mean your eggs?” She squinted her eyes, looking directly at him, his eyes were still shut and he seemed not to notice her pathetic attempt to get his attention. Giving a sigh, she turned around and put her cigarette butt in the ashtray on the counter next to the stove. Letting the last wisps of the smoke exit though the screen door of the house, she looked back at James carefully considering what he was thinking. She pulled her blonde hair to the side so as not to obstruct her view. Just at that moment, he lifted his head, sat straight up and proceeded to rest his forearms on the old table, syrup and other remnants of old supper and lunches before stuck to his underarms. Bringing his arms back up to see pasty goo of leftovers stringing from the table to his arm, he looked up, only to see a satisfied smirk on Tiffany’s face, then one small chuckle. James pushed his chair out again and headed for the sink to rinse off his acquired stickiness
“You drink all the milk, don’t make me food, and are too stupid to even clean the table! You are lucky I don’t just leave and find someone better!”
Tiffany crossed her arms abruptly. As the sound of James’ voice telling her what a terrible person she was went on the more she became upset. After enduring a couple more minutes of yelling she screamed, “That’s it!” James stopped in his tracks he was not going anywhere. “I’m leaving!”
James just looked at her and laughed. As if even the thought of it was so unbelievable, that it was not true. “You’re leaving me?” James pointed back to himself. “Ha! And where will you go, your mother’s?”
Tiffany walked into her room and grabbed her two suit cases already packed. Then in a fast trot she left. The door still open creaked at the hinges as it halted to a stop.
“You’ll be back!” Bam! James slammed the door so hard it cracked the inside drywall.
“She better be back,” he whispered to himself he looked down, grinding his teeth. For a second thought about a cavity he had, then went over to the couch to sit down. Just before he could the phone rang.
“
“Ring….Ring!”
“Heh…see that her right there just begging to come back.”
Waiting for almost the last ring, he picked up the phone. “What!”
There was a short pause then the other side answered: “Uh…um… oh…hello? Hi, this is Chris Matthews.”
James’ eyes widened when he realized it was a man and not a woman on the phone. “Oh! Sorry, who’s this?” James had heard the first time but could not remember who Chris Matthews was.
“Chris Matthews! We studied together all through high school! Remember, ninth grade science, you almost caught my arm on fire with the Bunsen Burner.” James smiled as he remembered a skinny brown-haired boy with glassed that seemed to be glued to his head.
“Yea! Hey how’s it going?”
“Not too bad, I’m married now!” He said, raising his voice a little.
“Really.” this came as quite a surprise to James. The last time he had met Chris he would have been considered a “loser”. His hair was always messy, he wore big glasses, and people, including James, called him “pole” because he was so skinny. “Well, great! What’s her name?”
“Mary Young, and that’s not all, I have a son now, named Jason.” Chris sounded like he was proud of his achievements.
“That’s great.” James said more subtle this time.
“Well, anyway,” the old friend replied, “that’s not why I called . . . What I did call you for is to invite you to a barbeque we are having this Saturday at five.”
James laughed at the thought of hanging out with an old school nerd. He thought it might be amusing just to show himself off to Chris. “Sure, I’ll be there,” he replied.
“Great! I sent the directions to your email”
“You did?” James seemed surprised that he would already know his email address.
“It’s tricky475@gmail.com?” For a second Chris sounded hesitant.
“Yup, that’s the one.” James, now in a better mood, replied.
“OK, we’ll see ya there.”
“OK, bye.” James waited for the customary second goodbye, then hung up the phone. “Man! I haven’t seen that guy in ages.” He walked over to the couch and sat down to think, about the present, the past, how he used to pick on Chris all through high school. They used to be best friends. They would always work on projects together, usually getting A’s. Then ninth grade rolled around. James had met Alice Livingston, the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. He remembered coming home looking at himself in the mirror and thinking.
“Man, no girl would like a puny little guy like me.” He remembered studying the skeleton frame his body formed. After that, he had joined advanced conditioning. For hours, he worked on bodybuilding, neglecting his homework, chores and, most importantly, friends. He remembered now how he made Chris do his homework and projects because he was spending too much time working on his triceps, abs, quads, or something else. He recalled how Chris begged him to come to college with him, but he had refused to stay in contact with his old friend. It almost made him sad, yet happy, in a way, that they would be meeting again. James felt this time he would show Chris the ropes, show him how cool he had become and maybe even get Chris a cute girlfriend. James was sure he could find someone prettier then his wife.
“I bet she’s two-hundred pounds,” he said out loud, almost waking himself up.
For the next couple of days Chris was on James’ mind. “What a nerd!” He thought and then laughed to himself.
Finally, Saturday evening rolled around. James got the directions off the computer then set off in his small white Honda.
“OK, now, let’s see here.” He lifted the Map Quest map so he could see. “Twelve miles away, great! Out in the country.” He rolled down his window and backed up his car. The rear view mirror had snapped off, so he had to resort to other methods of viewing the road. When he finally arrived at Chris’s house at 1829 Goorowcom Road, he questioned if he was at the right house. It was big, not tall, but wide, surrounded by a long iron fence. Only two other houses stood near it that could compare to it in size. Driving more slowly, James rolled to the speaker at the front gate. There as a small note on the side that read: “To open gate press 17639.”
James put the code in and entered what he assumed to be the estate. He parked his car and followed the sounds of a crowd laughing and having a good time. He could now see that he had parked on the wrong side of the house. The other side was filled with nice cars, much nicer then his. Entering the pool area, he looked around. He saw a man on the barbeque cooking steaks on the grill and decided to go find out if that was Chris. Tapping once on the shoulder he was relieved to find he had done something right. There stood Chris, now much taller, wearing the same style glasses he wore in high school, but much nicer. He now combed his hair instead of letting it be messy and his teeth were straight.
“James! Good to see you, I’m glad you made it!” Chris stuck out his hand to meet James’.
“Wow, good to see you, too!” James’ voice had started to lose fullness. “Nice barbeque,” he tried to say, trying not to show his discomfort at feeling out of place.
“Well, that’s not the nicest part,” Chris smiled, and then looked at a beautiful woman walking towards them both. “You haven’t met my wife yet, have you?” He held his arms out to the buxom woman.
“Uh, uh, no.” James found himself staring and quickly looked away.
“James, this is my wife Mary; Mary, this is my good friend James.”
“Hi,” Mary said politely.
“Hi,” James said too loudly and eagerly.
“I have heard a lot about you.” She commented.
“You have?” He was truly surprised this time.
“Yes, all good, though.” She smiled, then added, “Well, I’ll leave you two to talk.”
“OK, bye, honey.” Chris said as she walked away, then turned to James. “She’s a model.” He winked. “We met while she was doing a shoot in New York.”
“New York? What were you doing there?” James asked, more to keep the conversation alive than because he wanted to know.
“I was on a business trip, didn’t you know?” He queried.
“Know what?” James said, pulling his eyebrows together.
It was Chris’ turn to be surprised. “Google!” He laughed. “It’s me; well, not only me, there’s also Matt, Mike, and Brad.”
“You mean you started ‘Google’?”
“Well, sort of, and built it, but it’s a long story. Why don’t you sit down and have something.”
“Oh, that, er. . . Well, I could only come for a second, I have to be going.” James turned away before Chris could even say good-bye and walked to his car. As he sped back down the road, something was bothering him. . . Something. He had everything, the figure, the muscles, the power. . . Yet Chris, his nerdy friend, got the “girl.” Where, he thought over and over again, had he gone wrong?
--------------------------------------------------------------
I wrote this to show the importance of not "lusting" or become obsessed with social norms and how they can adventually destroy us.