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Brain Curd #346

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

Part 28 of an experiment in progress. Refer to case logs.

As I sat, legs crossed, atop my bed, my phone buzzed and buzzed. I had to contort myself to get it out of my pocket, accidentally putting pressure on my broken toenail. I yelped and scowled at the screen of the evil device.

“Hey! Where u” Dad texted. “Need help packing!!”

“Sorry, can’t help,” I replied. “Broke my toenail and it’s all messed up.”

I hit send. In only a fraction of a second, there was a reply:

“Bs. You suck. FUck u.”

I sighed. Ocean came back from the bathroom and I threw the phone rightward onto my pillow, screen-down. It had a feature that was supposed to silence it when it was face down, though it never really worked. She jumped high in the air and folded her legs before she hit the mattress.

“Wow,” I said. “How’d you do that?”

Ocean smiled wide. “I used to be an acrobat!”

Somehow I found that hard to believe.

“Alright, well…” I pulled my script out from between the pages of my planner. “I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Wait…” She looked around, or perhaps listened. “Where are your grandparents?”

“Napping. They usually nap from three to four or so.”

“Interesting,” she smirked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’.” She looked directly into my eyes. Somehow I was certain she meant quite the opposite.

“Uh…” I blushed and quickly looked away to my script, flipping to the first scene I was in. “Ahem… you’ve got the first line… or do you want me to start where I come in?”

“I’ll start.” She fished around in her backpack, which on the inside looked more like a recycle bin of crumpled papers and dog-eared paperbacks. “Uh oh. I can’t find my copy. Can we share?”

Before I could answer, she scooched and spun across the bed to land to my left. Our thighs were touching.

I gulped. “Sure.”

“Oh, gee, Toto!” She said, raising her voice to an absurd pitch. “I wish I knew which way to go… the road forks off in two directions!”

“Maybe you should go this way!” I pointed to my right.

Ocean gasped. “Did that scarecrow just talk?”

“Or, wait,” I scratched my head. “Maybe you should go that way!” I pointed to my left.

“Oh my goodness! This scarecrow is alive, Toto!”

“Just because I ain’t got a brain don’t mean I’m not alive! Just look at jellyfishes!” I looked up from my script. “Why would a scarecrow know about jellyfish? He lives in a cornfield. He’s never even been to the beach.”

“That’s a joke, Trevor. It’s for the audience. Trust me, they’ll laugh.”

“You’re right, this script is terrible.” Celeste munched on some caramel popcorn. “Anyone who would laugh at that doesn’t have the marine biology knowledge to get the joke in the first place.”

I sighed and looked back down at the script. “Hey, little lady, why don’t you help me down from here?”

Ocean began patting at various parts of my torso.

“Wha - hey, knock it off!” I said, recoiling.

“I’m gonna have to untie you on stage, so you’d better get used to me touching you.”

“No way, quit it!” She grazed against my armpit. “Ha ha! Quit it!” I was ticklish, but it didn’t mean I liked it. “Seriously, stop!”

She pulled her hands away. I scooted my butt a few inches farther from her and frowned.

“Sorry,” she said. “I got carried away.”

“No kidding.”

“What are you doing here, kiddo?” Celeste asked. “Quit this stupid production and kick her out. You don’t need her.”

Ocean looked down at the bed like a dog who’s eaten a newspaper. “Tracey says you got tickle trauma from your dad. Sorry about tickling you.”

I looked closely at Ocean’s face. It didn’t seem like she was lying.

“How does she know that?” I asked.

“She doesn’t!” Celeste insisted. “It was an easy guess! You got tickled, you didn’t like it. Even I could figure that out.”

“Shut up, Celeste!” I exclaimed.

“Don’t talk to me in front of her!”

“She already knows anyway.” I looked back to Ocean. “How does Tracey know about me? Why is she looking for me?”

Ocean sat in silence for a moment, listening to a voice I couldn’t hear. Then, she spoke. “She says she wants to tell you herself, tomorrow, at my birthday party. And that she won’t say anything more right now.”

I huffed and crossed my arms. “You know, I feel like I’m trusting you an awful lot considering I barely know anything about you. Like, why were you running through town early in the morning, anyway?”

“Uh…” She put her finger to her lower lip. “Exercise?”

“In flannel and jeans?”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I was sneaking home from a girl’s house. If I didn’t get back before my mom woke up, she would’ve killed me.”

“A girl’s house, huh?” I pondered. “What’s with all the lesbians lately?”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m not a lesbian, I’m… huh? Right now?”

“What?” I asked.

“Tracey says your Pops is going to come in here right about…”

Pops opened the door and stepped in. “Oh!” He said, glancing into my room. “A visitor?”

“Heh, yeah…” I said. “Uh, Pops, this is Ocean. My co-star. We’re practicing -”

“Rehearsing.” She interrupted.

“We’re rehearsing for the play.”

“Well,” he chuckled. “Just keep the door open, for your grandmother’s sake.”

“Will do,” I replied. “Is it okay if she stays for dinner?”

“Uh…” Pops thought about it. “Yeah, that should be fine. Might need to send you down to the grocery store to grab another head of cauliflower.”

“Bleh!” Ocean gagged. “No thanks, I’ll just eat whatever else you’re making.”

“Actually,” I added. “I stubbed my toe really bad this morning, so…”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Pops held up his hands. “I’ll just make an extra box of pilaf.”

“Ooo-ooh!” Ocean clapped. “Yay, rice!”

“Talk about nominative determinism…” Celeste quipped. “She’s got as much brains as all the jellyfish in the sea put together. Are we sure she was born with that name?”

Jeez, Celeste, stop being such a jerk. She’s not stupid, she’s just… ditzy.

“What, are you starting to like her? You have a date to a dance in two days, kiddo! Focus on that!”

Why do you hate Ocean so much?

“I don’t… ugh.” Celeste tapped her foot. “You’re really getting on my nerves.”

Pops squinted my way. “Are you alright, Trevor? You look really intense but you aren’t saying anything.”

“Uh…” I gulped. “Just trying not to think about my toe.”He shook his head and tutted as he walked to the kitchen. “You can’t try not to think about something… no matter how hard you try, it won’t work.”

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

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Push play and just trust me

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Brain Curd #345 - Twenty-Minute Tuesday #42

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

The timer on the wall began to count down.

“Heh…” I laughed nervously and looked at the table. “I never do this.”

“Me neither,” he said. His hair wasn’t especially long, but it was curly and full of life. A coil of it poked in front of his glasses. “I… Do you know what we’re supposed to talk about?”

“No idea, but we only have… three minutes to do it?”

“Alright, alright…” He straightened his collar. “Well, I’ll just say that, uh, my name’s Jeffrey, and I’m a firefighter.”

That explained his physique. He was built strong, top-heavy. He looked like he could lift me over his head.

“Do you think you could lift me over your head?” I asked. There wasn’t much time to let my inhibitions slow me down, even considering the cosmopolitans I’d chugged for confidence.

“Heh… do you mean, like, right now?”

“No, no!” I blushed. “I meant, in general.”

“Yeah, I suppose I could. Usually I carry people over my shoulder, but you don’t look especially heavy.”

I smiled, but raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I… no, I didn’t mean to… if you have an eating disorder or something, I am so sorry.”

“No, no, you’re good… Very direct. I like that.”

Only a minute and a half to go. I didn’t usually lean towards the burly type - I like my men how I like my candy - sweet, fruity, and dyed bright colors. But if I was going to date someone like him, he was a good candidate.

“So, what do you do?” He asked.

“Me? I do everything. Not so much that actually pays, necessarily… but I get by. What I really want to do is write a novel.”

“Have you written any of it?”

“Only an outline, so far. Eh…” I wiggled my hand. “I mean, I’m still working on that part too, to tell you the truth.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s about a secret society formed in the aftermath of World War II, made up of all the sort of people that the Nazis wanted dead. They resolved to make sure it never happened again, but in the decades since, their influence has become less and less. Now, they’re needed more than ever, but the budget isn’t there. And neither is the leadership, really. So the main character, a trans author, is recruited to help.”

“Hm.” He rubbed his goatee. “So, what you’re saying is, this main character is a self-insert?”

“Yeah, I mean… sort of. But there are key differences. For one thing, she’s a lesbian.”

“And I guess you wouldn’t be here if you were?”

“I wouldn’t think so, no. I’m bi.”

“Hey, me too!”

“Hell yeah!” I exclaimed. I put up my hand for a high-five and he instantly went for it. This was off to a good start.

“I’d love to read it when you’ve got some to show off.”

“Then…” I pulled out a card I’d pre-filled with my information. “I guess you’ll need my number, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.” He took the card and stuck it in his shirt pocket.

Thirty seconds left.

“Text me when you get some downtime at the station, will you?” I smirked. “I’d like to know more.”

“Me too.” He winked. “Good luck with the next one. Or, uh… should I not wish you luck on that? Because if these other guys impress you, I assume my chances won’t be as good.”

“Eh,” I shrugged. “I’ve got three holes now. Not like I’ll run out of space.”

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[notsocheezy]

NEW FISH JUST DROPPED

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[notsocheezy]

Friendly reminder that 1200 calories is the recommended amount for a 5 year old

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #344

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

Part 27 of an experiment in progress. Refer to case logs.

I limped along as I walked home. It had been a day. I stubbed my toe so bad that the nail cracked all the way through, turning it purple and bloody. It stopped bleeding around lunch, but the pain never stopped. The Midol that Serenity gave me only took the edge off. I’d probably have to throw away these socks…

“Heyo,” Ocean scampered up behind me. “Why you limping?”

“Broke a nail.”

“You poor baby. Can I see?” She wore a devious and excited smile at the prospect.

“Uh…” I glared at her. “I’m kinda self-conscious about it, actually.”

“Is it gross?”

“Yeah.”

She squinted at me. “You don’t have a foot fetish, do you?”

I looked at her with confusion and disgust. “No, obviously not.”

“Well, if you did, you’d know that it’s part of the appeal.” She watched me walk and began mimicking my pained gait.

“I’m still not showing you my toe.”

“Damn.”

“Anyway…” I tried to forget the previous topic, though the throbbing in my shoe was difficult to ignore. “I’m not making any progress memorizing my lines. I read them, I say them out loud, I repeat, but they’re just so… stupid. What was wrong with the original dialogue from the movie?”

“It’s copyrighted. They can’t use it.”

“That’s kind of a big word for you. Have you gotten in trouble before or something?”

She huffed. “No, but it’s the first thing you need to know when you put together productions like this. Lawyers could ruin the whole thing and leave you with thousands of dollars of props and costumes you can’t use. I saw it happen in my church growing up.”

“What happened?”

“They wanted to do Cats. But then they had to make up their own play, last minute. They called it Dogs, but… it was really obvious that they were still cats.”

“That’s tragic,” I replied, sarcastic.

“But as far as your problem goes, you just need to practice with someone else. It’s no good sitting in your bedroom alone. I’ll come with you.”

“Huh?” I stopped walking. “Did you just invite yourself to my house?”

“I invited you to my house first, so it’s only fair. But we could practice on a bench downtown, if you’d rather do that.”

“Uh… huh. No, my house is fine. Um…” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

She smiled and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Yeah!”

“Alright, I’ll ask my grandparents if they can handle an extra plate.”

“Yee-hee!”

“But the socks are staying on, Ocean.”

“Boo!”

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

[notsocheezy]

Just talked to Hel about truscum/assimilationists in the queer community, and she told me that it's pretty easy to be against someone who wants to kill you no matter what (kill is sort of a metaphor here), even a coward is going to run from someone swinging at them, but you have to actually be brave if you want to oppose someone who wants to control you, to make you lesser, the type of bigot who doesn't want you dead but who wants to keep you in a social position worse than them. She told me that to oppose that type of person who wants to oppress you doesn't just require you to have self preservation, but to truly love yourself, to believe that you deserve good things, that you deserve respect. You can't fight the softer and gentler forms of oppression with a self-preservation instinct alone, you have to understand that you deserve love and pleasure.

[notsocheezy]

Brain Curd #343

Brain Curds are lightly edited daily writing - usually flash fiction and sometimes terrible on purpose.

“Naw, man, I don't fuck with a sincere apology.” Joey Pabst wiped his nose with his finger. “Yer gonna have to make it worth my while, if'n you catch my drift.”

Billy Bob frowned. “I am not performin’ oral sex on you, Joe-Joe. Quit askin’. If you don't accept my apology, then I'll take my bus'ness elsewheres.”

“Ha! Good luck findin’ another DMV in the county, asshole!”

“Pfft.” Billy Bob spit on the dirt floor. “I'll make my own drivin’ license!” He stormed out.

“Wha'd he do?” Lester asked Joey.

“Di'n suck my dick, that's fer sure.”

~

Billy Bob got to work, sawing two wheels off his truck. This way, he figured, it would legally be considered a bicycle. No license required.

Please comment, reblog, like, and follow if you enjoyed - I'd love to know what you think! See you again tomorrow.

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Executive chef at a top Thai restaurant tells Gordon Ramsay that his Pad Thai is trash [x]

[notsocheezy]

im just so happy i live in a time period where actual meaningful biological transition is possible. even if we lose rights or the ability to exist in public, nothing can turn back the clock on that, and just by having any sort of access to that our lives are made immensely better. millions of our sisters throughout history would never have dreamed of a day where they could have what HRT does for us.

please don't lose the plot of this. if you're a trans person on HRT you're a living miracle, the dream of hundreds of millions of your ancestors. your lives are all deeply meaningful no matter what anyone says.

[notsocheezy]

sick post i just found online. sorry i couldnt find the source

[notsocheezy]

i see y’all with your “steven goes to work at the mystery shack” headcanons and i’ve just gotta say… he would absolutely be the sketchiest person in gravity falls

[notsocheezy]

This website is too mobile focused these days. Reblog and tell me what your desktop/laptop background is.

[notsocheezy]