rough-n-randy-rando

[rough-n-randy-rando]

so soft so squishy

The cutest invader

[rough-n-randy-rando]

Kevedd Prompts

Send em to my inbox, I’ll spew em out over the weekend.

Cheers. 

[rough-n-randy-rando]

Edd and Flow: Fondle, Fight, Flight.

    It’s amazing how quickly something fantastic can settle into mundanity. The fireflies, once they’d spent their cinematic brilliance, made drunken, wafting patterns in the air, came to rest on the highest strands of the tall grass, or vanished into the sky. Now, they were Christmas lights left out too long, stray embers that never went out.

    The two teens had climbed aboard the tank, Double-Dee identifying it as an M551 Sheridan, and joined the ranks of men who somehow managed to get comfortable atop one. Fortunately for them, a prior visitor had somehow gotten a school-bus bench seat up there, level with the top of the turret, a perfect loveseat crowned and buffeted by the twisted mound of earth and metal. They’d put their jackets beneath them to protect from the general dirt and grime as well as the likely stray screw or nail.

    They sat close, both trying to seem casual about the situation without touching. Double-Dee was lamenting the fact that the new moon’s brilliance meant the stars were not visible. Kevin tried to cheer him up by pointing out a pulsing light far off in the distant sky, though Double-Dee, in short order, explained that it was likely an airliner, as stars don’t pulse or blink, nor travel perceptibly. The silence that followed wasn’t unpleasant, but it was silence.

    In the silence, Double-Dee rediscovered his shyness and uncertainty, pulling his legs in and hugging his knees.

    “This is a rather beautiful place, Kevin, very… secluded.”

    Kevin perked up and nodded, standing and taking a few shaky steps along the stubby main gun of the Tank. “Yeah, I’d heard a lot about it from kids that moved to Peach Creek from Lemon Brook, they talked about it like it was Neverland.”

    “I imagine this is an ideal spot for revelry and mischief.”

    “Why do you talk like that?”

    “How, Kevin?”

    “That, all proper.” Kevin turned and hopped back onto the turret a few inches away from Double-Dee’s feet, “It’s just you and me here, no one to impress.”

     Double-Dee raised an eyebrow, “What makes you assume my vocabulary is tied to some kind of need for praise and attention?”

    “I dunno… just always wondered.”

    “Proper speech and pronunciation is important, Kevin, it opens a lot of doors.”

    Kevin squatted so that he was nearly eye level with Double-Dee. “You’re the last person to need doors opened for them.”

    Double-Dee couldn’t meet Kevin’s eyes, and so focused his attention on a bicycle pedal sticking out of the earth near him, flicking it. “Achievement is no excuse for complacency.”

    Kevin groaned and sat back down, also drawing his knees in close. “It’s like talking to a dictionary.”

    “Well if my mannerisms bother you so, feel free to return me home.”

    “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

    Double-Dee mulled over a response. Was he hurt? No, not really. More than anything he was frustrated. The question, ‘what is this?’ came back into his mind. If it was a date, regardless of his own lack of experience, he doubted part of the itinerary was haranguing the other party over their choice of words. They’d shared a beautiful moment together just a few minutes ago, complete with an appreciative kiss and an embrace. They’d gone from a textbook romance to schoolyard teasing.

    He decided to take the initiative and shift the momentum. He let go of his knees and slid his hand into Kevin’s, squeezing it. “Let’s start over, I’m Eddward Vincent, but you can call me Double-Dee, and… I’m enjoying this date.” He’d said it, let it out into the world, into the air, for the multitudes of insects, field mice and decrepit Russian satellites passing overhead to hear.

    Kevin felt like someone’d struck the base of his spine with a cold lead pipe. There it was. Why was he surprised? Had he not just spent half a day working up the courage to even speak coherently to the boy beside him? Had he not given himself heat stroke just trying to outrun his anxiety, his fear, to be around him? They’d kissed, more than once, of his own free will. He’d even set the time and date for this… date.

    “You’re sweating.”

    “It’s hot out.”

    “You’re sweating profusely.”

    “You’re right…”

    “There’s no one here to impress.”

    Kevin turned and saw Double-Dee suppressing a laugh. He couldn’t help but grin.

    “There’s no one here period, and I still feel like I’m, I dunno, breaking the law.”

    Double-Dee watched Kevin for a moment then shifted in closer, laying his head on the other boy’s shoulder.

    “Well, other than possibly trespassing, I don’t think anything we’re doing, or have done, constitutes malfeasance.”

    “I don’t mean-”

    “I know what you mean. I admit I’m a tad trepidatious about this as well.”

    “You’re giving me a headache with all the wordsmithing.”

    Double-Dee laughed, loudly, embarrassingly, and covered his mouth.

    “What’s so funny?”

    “Wordsmithing, I’m impressed.”

    Kevin pressed his fingers into Double-Dee’s ribs, making him laugh heinously, squirming to escape his grasp.

    “Kevin, p-p-please, s-stop!”

    “Or else what?”

    Double-Dee slipped his hand under Kevin’s armpit and kneaded it, causing him to spasm and pull away. Double-Dee, however, kept up the pressure, and soon the two were practically grappling. Kevin gained the upper hand and scrambled into the dominant position, a leftover from Freshman wrestling. The two were panting, chests heaving, sweat matting hair and glistening on foreheads. It was all rather sensual.

    Kevin had Double-Dee pressed to the turret, holding him by the wrists and clasped close to the chest, laying stomach to stomach, legs entwined.

    “This is… a particularly uncomfortable… position” Double-Dee panted.

    “You give?”

    Double-Dee answered by licking the tip of Kevin’s nose and laughing, though offering no further resistance.

    Kevin couldn’t think of a witty retort, so he likewise licked Double-Dee, from the ridge of his Adam’s Apple to the underside of his chin. He felt the other teen shudder and tense under him. He then felt Double-Dee’s legs slip out and wrap around his waist. The laughter had faded, and now it was just their labored breathing. Small quakes wracked their bodies, every pleasurable neurochemical they could produce, in the unhealthy and copious levels inherent with adolescence, flowing through them.

    They kissed. Kevin released Double-Dee’s wrists and propped himself up on his elbows. Double-Dee’s hands, now freed, explored under Kevin’s shirt; slithering across his chest; around to his back; nails trailing just enough to elicit a hiss; then an exploratory delve beneath his beltline. More shuddering breaths. More sweat. More lips. More tongue.

    Voices, close and loud, cut off the journey to second base, the two laying still, listening.

    “No way.”

    “Swear to God, fifty yards.”

    “You can’t even count to fifty.”

    “Don’t need to count to throw.”

    Kevin swore under his breath, sliding off Double-Dee and tugging their jackets off of the bench.

   “I know that voice” he whispered, “Erick Monroy, certified asshole.”

    Double-Dee, still trying to collect himself from the ruins of his passion, straightened out his beanie and rolled onto his belly, mirroring Kevin’s movements.

    “You have some prior experience with him?”

    “Broke his nose, Baseball, caught him square in the face with a fastball that went wild.”

    “Wonderful, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see you, especially in such a compromising situation.”

    The two rose to their hands and knees, hidden from view by the earth and metal mangle. Kevin peered over the top of it, to gauge the distance and get a look at the opposition. Erick was in the lead, six-pack in one hand, cigarette in the other. Shaved head, crooked nose, built like a brick shit house, it was him alright. In total, he had about four cohorts, all of them a full head taller than Kevin and similarly built. He didn’t have to smell them to know they’d been drinking ever since school let out for the summer; their voices loud, slurred; their steps clumsy and snaking; belches punctuated every other three-word sentence. They were about thirty yards away and closing.

    They’d never make the treeline, let alone the bike beyond. They were in the boonies, the badlands, the closest house was a mile away. The options were few, the outcomes unfavorable. Then there was Double-Dee to think about.

    “We’re gonna stand up and walk away like they’re invisible.” Kevin put on his leather jacket, Double-Dee following suit, and the two carefully clambered down.

    “I feel as though this plan has more than a few flaws.”

    “It’s the only plan, I just made it up, it’s gonna be flawed.”

    Kevin helped Double-Dee down and the two started walking towards the direction of the bike. Brisk, unhurried, unbothered. Then bother closed the distance.

    “Hey!”

    Kevin slowed his own pace but hissed at Double-Dee, “Keep walking, I’m right behind you.”

    The crash and crunch of grass being thrashed by drunken steps; throaty ‘urp’ and ‘brep’ half-burps; swears and groans as alcohol sloshed in bellies, in brains, in bottles. Bother arrived.

    “I can’t believe it, ‘Beanball Barr’, my old friend from Peach Creek.”

    They were close, but still trailing.

    “I’m talking to you, Barr!”

    “He’s talking to you, B-buh-Barr!” One of the goons loped in close, coming from the right, reaching out towards Kevin.

    “Double-Dee, run!” Kevin leaned into a shove, catching the first kid high, pitching him back headfirst. The rest of them were taken aback, buying Kevin and Double-Dee enough time to clear the distance to the trees. Bottles and insults sailed after them, but they were poor missiles, with even poorer aim. The winding path through the thicket, a slog littered with landmines of glass, jagged cans and used condoms, breezed by in the teen’s flight. Then there was a crunch, and Double-Dee cried out.

    “What’s wrong?” Kevin fumbled with the small flashlight at the end of his keychain and shined it on Double-Dee. He was leaning against a tree, blood on his hand.

    “My foot, I cut it on something.”

    Kevin crouched and inspected the other boy’s foot, grimacing when he saw the trickle of blood coming through the shredded sneaker. He clamped the light in his teeth and daintily removed the shoe. Double-Dee groaned, bracing himself on the tree.

    He spoke through the flashlight between his teeth “there’s no glass in the cut, you’re gonna need stitches… here.” He fished the bandanna Double-Dee had given him the night before from out of his pocket and fashioned a crude bandage, binding the wound. He stood and wiped the blood on his jeans. “Can you walk?”

    A bottle sailed through the air and shattered.

    “Barr, your ass is mine!”

    “Screw it.” Kevin squatted and tugged Double-Dee onto his back, then took off running.

    In the dark, on treacherous ground, with an extra 130 pounds on his back, Kevin managed a quick pace. His main advantage over the posse following him was sobriety, though they remained within shouting and throwing distance.

    “You’re a headhunter AND a Queer!?” Erick had halved the distance, a lumbering shadow among shadows. “I’m gonna enjoy this even more!” He reached out suddenly from the darkness and grabbed hold of Kevin’s hair. Immediately, his face made acquaintance with the back of Double-Dee’s hand and released his grip.

    “Swing away, Double-Dee!” Kevin slowed and scanned the area, able to discern a few shapes in the dark. Their tail had scattered, gotten lost in the pines. “Home free.”

    They emerged out onto the gravel path, discovering a beat-up sedan at the mouth near the road, likely Erick and his gang’s ride. Kevin lost a bit of his steam now that escape was just a few feet away. He set Double-Dee down at the edge of the path and retrieved the motorcycle. The pair donned their helmets and prepared to ride.

    “Wait just a moment, Kevin.” Double-Dee dismounted and limped over to the sedan, crouching near the wheel. He withdrew what looked like a lipstick tube from his fanny pack and set to work on the lug nuts, the device emitting a high-pitched whining sound.

    “Double-Dee, come on, we don’t have time for this!”

    Satisfied, he made his way back to Kevin and hopped on just as their pursuers cleared the trees. Kevin offered up a one-finger salute, and was surprised to see Double-Dee join in. They sped off, a cloud of dust and gravel in their wake.

    “What did you do to their car?”

    “A rapid removal of essential parts.”

    “Like what?”

    “Come about and you can see.”

    Kevin thought on it a moment, then throttled down, swinging the bike around in a lazy arc.

    “If they run us down, I’m blaming you.”

    “I doubt very much their anger is so great that they’d attempt murder, of all things.”

    The sedan laboriously exited the gravel path, fishtailing once it hit asphalt, and barreled down the road towards the pair. Kevin hit the throttle and swung the bike around quickly.

    “Wait, look!”

    Kevin looked over his shoulder and watched as the sedan’s left-side wheels came flying off, the car screeching to a halt in a shower of sparks that lit up the area like a signal flare.

    “No way!”

    Double-Dee slapped the side of Kevin’s helmet three times, “NOW would be the appropriate time to leave.”

       They’d rode to the boundary of the badlands, where Lemon Brook’s orchards, farmland and rails gave way to the open, unplanned, wild countryside of Peach Creek. Pukwudgie Service Station, a 50’s holdover that was a beacon of neon and blazing halogen flood-lights, sat right on the boundary line. Inside, truckers and stray motorists could get a hot meal, cold drinks, a shower, useless trinkets and, should the worst come to pass, first-aid kits.

    A sympathetic waitress in the 24-hour diner section of the stop let the two teens use the break room to treat Double-Dee’s foot. In the light of a cheap flashlight, surrounded by darkness, against weak, pale moonlight, the wound had seemed worse than it really was. Kevin’s prognosis, made in the heat of the moment and with danger at arm’s reach, was only slightly off. The cut was long, but it was shallow. Kevin washed and sterilized the wound like he had been taught in the Boy Scouts, one of the only things he cared to remember from that dismal experience. Double-Dee numbed and sutured the area quickly and efficiently; three stitches across the center and a bit of derma-bond to seal it up. Just like his mother had taught him.

    “You’re… pretty good at that.” Kevin was winding clean gauze in a figure-eight pattern over the wound.

    “Mother would make me practice on pig skin.” He noticed the apprehensive look Kevin gave him, “It’s the closest to Human…” The look didn’t improve. “Well now I just seem strange instead of impressive.”

    Kevin smiled and taped off the end of the gauze, “I’m impressed, don’t worry.”

    A knock came at the door, the waitress, Laura, poked her head in.

    “Hey kids, the next shift is due in about a half hour, you’re more than welcome to rest up in a booth, but if they catch you back here it’ll be on me.”

    She closed the door behind her, and the two sat in silence. Double-Dee spoke first.

    “I don’t know how your prior dates have gone…” They both laughed. It was a good laugh. An honest laugh. A tired laugh. “But I have to say that this is the best I’ve ever been on.”

    Kevin took it all in. He had just finished dressing a wound sustained while fleeing a rival with a vendetta against him. They’d sabotaged a vehicle, possibly endangering the lives of the occupants. They were sitting in the breakroom of a diner in the middle of nowhere, covered in a bit of blood, a bit of dirt, a bit of sweat.

    “This is the strangest date I’ve ever been on, for sure.”

    “I look forward to the next one.” Double-Dee extended his hand, Kevin taking it.

    “So do I.”

       An hour later, they pulled into the cul de sac, the loudest thing for miles around. Kevin pulled into his driveway and dismounted stiffly, helping Double-Dee off. The two walked arm and arm across the street to the Vincent house, a bit of the romance gone as Double-Dee hobbled along with difficulty. They came to the door and the two stood a foot or so apart, feeling eyes that weren’t there upon them. Double-Dee moved to return the leather jacket, but Kevin waved him off.

    “Hang onto it, and the helmet, save me the trouble of remembering to bring it along next time.”

    “Next time, yes.” A pause. Always a pause. “How about in two days, five, and we can leave from here.”

    “Uh, yeah… cool.”

    “Very.”

    Before the dreaded pause could reassert itself, Double-Dee pecked Kevin on the cheek and went inside.

    Kevin stood at the doorstep for a moment, smiling, then walked back across the street towards his house. He noticed the lights were on and braced himself for what his father would say. Irresponsible, unaccountable, don’t you know there are drunk drivers out, and no call, who’s blood is that, why are you covered in dirt? Inside, though, he found his father passed out on the couch, still dressed as he had been when he’d left, surrounded by paperwork, a half-drunk beer on the coffee table. The TV was on, the news, it was about the war, the forever war, but only briefly, they don’t want people too upset or they’ll change the channel.

    He draped a thin blanket from the hall closet over his father, turned off the TV and switched off all the lights. In his room, he stripped everything off and collapsed, dirt and all, onto his bed. Sleep was coming, deep sleep, well-earned sleep, and so he said the magic words before he was lost to REM cycle.

    “I look forward to the next one.”

Read the full story in Sequence HERE

[rough-n-randy-rando]

Edd and Flow; Jitters, Junk, Fireflies

Eddward Vincent had never been on a clandestine date before. Or any date for that matter.  He’d gone to Sadie Hawkins with Nazz, but it had been a pleasant outing between two friends. Nazz had met his parents, he’d met Nazz’s, pinned a corsage, danced together under the supervision of chaperones, drank punch that may or may not have been spiked. It had been a quick affair, never repeated and with no misunderstandings or hurt feelings.

     As he decided on what to wear, he thought over the situation in terms of what a date classically is and found that it was beyond typical categorization. If anything, it was a rendezvous. It had all the thrill, danger and intrigue of one at least. And it was hot, but not just hot, humid at that. A romantic rendezvous in a tank-top and shorts? It would be so.

    There was another point of consideration; was that all this would be? A passing… something… in the night? Is that worthwhile? Is that something to look forward to? So many questions, and nothing but a time and place to answer them. As well as an auburn-haired boy. That raised more thoughts, lewd, personal thoughts. He humored them and changed again. Messy, messy, messy.

    By four in the afternoon he’d run out of things to catalogue and alphabetize; every advisory note left by his parents was read and followed; Jim and the ant colony fed and watered; any and every bit of clothes washed, folded. Now he’d resorted to an impromptu one man play in the living room, portraying both himself and a suddenly erudite and proper Kevin, replete with baseball cap. Then, a knock at the door.

    Actually, it was less a knock than it was Eddy strolling in, Ed in tow. “Hey Sockhead why dontcha answer your phone?” He tracked in mud, fresh, blackened mud likely from a runoff canal near the Creek. “Ed and I found a great spot ta set up Slippery Eddy’s Super Summer Splash Park and we need ya ta draw up the plans.”

    “Eddy, shoes, please!” Double-Dee sprung over the couch and dialed a command into his wristwatch, sleeker models of the cleaner bots from the café emerging from the hall closet and setting to work.

    Ed swept Double-Dee in his arms and crushed the air from his lungs in a rib-cracking bear hug. “Eddy told me you’d been taken by the sewer people, to build them a radioactive claw they’d use to steal the Earth’s core!” He mimicked a gnarled claw and snapped at various objects on the end table near the couch, curling his lip and crossing his eyes in his best impression of a sewer person.

    “Ed, we’ve talked about unnecessary roughness in our greetings.” Double-Dee felt the pressure around him relax.

    “Sorry Double-Dee.” Ed seemed on the edge of tears, sincerely remorseful he’d slipped up and possibly disappointed his friend.

    Double-Dee had a special place in his heart, and therefore his patience, for Ed, and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s perfectly fine, Ed, just a friendly reminder. Now, if you wouldn’t mind releasing me.” Ed dropped him bodily to the floor and stood smiling.

    Eddy had meanwhile helped himself to one of the pre-made sandwiches Double-Dee had spent the morning preparing for himself and was lounging on the couch, a phone in his hand. “All my missed calls and you didn’t even try to get back to me.” He seemed taken aback by something he saw on the screen and flew into a rage. “Kevin? What, he tryin ta shanghai ya ta help him with his summer school?”

    Double-Dee scrambled over the couch and tried his best to get his phone back, Eddy keeping him at bay with his leg. “My correspondence with other people is my own business, Eddy; so unless you’re listed as the account holder or contribute directly to my service bill, I’d appreciate you returning my property to me and pondering your own social interactions, thank you very…” he kicked off the arm-rest of the couch and managed to spring past Eddy’s leg, grabbing ahold of his phone as he sailed off towards a crash landing, “much!”

    He made a hard landing against the opposite wall, knocking over a waist-high bookshelf. Ed scrambled over and helped unbury Double-Dee, lifting him up to his feet and dusting him off.

    “Are you okay, Double-Dee?”

    “Yes, thank you, Ed… you didn’t take off your shoes?”

    Sure enough, there was a long, thick trail of viscous, blackened mud from the entryway to him, the cleaner bots chugging along frustratedly.

    “Forget his shoes, what’s Shovelchin tryin ta rope ya into, huh, huh?”

    Double-Dee held the phone to his chest and turned his nose up at Eddy, moving off towards the kitchen. “None of your ‘beezewax’ to borrow from your own crude vocabulary.” He glanced at the screen and saw he had indeed received a message from a number identifying itself as Kevin.

Hey Double-Dork, it’s Kev, don’t forget.

    He felt a bolt of lighting shoot up his spine and crash back down in the pit of his stomach, flooding him with warmth and energy, his heart racing. Now how to go about responding. He wanted to send a long-heartfelt message filled with his excitement and anticipation, the concern and worry that had been consuming him ever since their brief intimacy the day prior. Then he thought of how Kevin, up till now the smoothest of operators when it came to romance, would take this outpouring of deep emotions, especially in such an early, fragile state of their… relationship.

    “Hello, Double-Dee, ya have a stroke or somethin?” Eddy had finished his sandwich, wiping his hands on the couch, and was looking at him expectantly.

    “Eddy, how would you respond to someone who had asked you out on a date, wishing to maintain a level of distance and mask your enthusiasm?” He looked to Eddy, who had a crestfallen look on his face.

    “Oh come on, not Boxhead…”

    “The identity of the individual is irrelevant, but the question stands.”

    “Is Double-Dee in love, Eddy?” Ed again closed the distance between himself and Edd, wrapping him up in a cautious embrace.

    “I wouldn’t call it love, Ed, but someone has piqued my interest, yes.” Double-Dee relished the affection afforded to him by his gregarious friend and returned the hug.

    “What you have to do is beat up their enemy like in Ultra Space Adventure number six-hundred and four, where Tim Cobalt, space explorer, fought for the love of an alien with a thousand mouths by defeating the hairy mutants from X-O-Nine!” Again, sudden silence, pleasant smile.

    “I’ll take it under consideration, Ed.”

    “I say leave him hangin, never text back, move away, save yourself the headache.”

    “Come now, Eddy; could it be your prior antagonistic encounters with Kevin have soured your opinion of him?”

    “Kevin’s a jerk, always will be a jerk, ask Nazz.”

    Double-Dee bit his lip and tapped Ed to release him. He moved into the living room and sat in his father’s recliner, looking off to a spot on the carpet. “I admit, Kevin’s romantic record to this point has been less than stellar. But could it be that that’s a part of adolescence? After all, Kevin and Nazz remain close friends, despite their history.”

    Eddy looked Double-Dee over and shook his head, standing to leave. “Double-Dee ya could marry a hornet’s nest and I’d ask when the reception is…” he picked at his teeth with the nail of his pinky-finger and examined what he’d scraped loose, “but Kevin?” He tutted and walked towards the door. “Just don’t ask me ta be nice ta him.” He paused and said over his shoulder, “Keep it loose, say when and where, then be there, keep him guessing.”

    “Remember Double-Dee; defeating your love’s enemies is the key to the heart.” Sudden silence. Pleasant smile.

    “Ed, your advice, as always, is illuminating.”

    “Wait for me, Eddy!” Ed raced after Eddy and practically bulldozed him out the door, the pair alternatingly laughing and arguing as they made their way back to whatever spot they’d staked out.

     Save for the cleaning machines lethargically scrubbing away at the last of the Ed’s mess, the house was quiet. Double-Dee looked at his screen again and considered a response. Then, another text popped onto the screen.

Don’t flake on me or I’ll pound ya.

    It seemed Kevin was also in the throes of pre-date jitters. He thought on it for a moment, then replied.

Eight o’clock, the park.

    And that was that.

       The Park was one of the oldest in Peach Creek, planned back when the cul de sac and other suburb outcroppings were still just blueprints and promises. It was simple, a few play structures, slides and swings, as well as a sandbox. Ringed by tall, old trees that were always last on the town’s list of landscaping priorities, a canopy had formed in some places, and in others crowded saplings and bushes fought for space. Otherwise, it was a straight shot through the park from one end to the other, wide open views from the street that anyone could take in unobstructed while passing by.

    These observations were obvious to Double-Dee as he sat at the picnic table, glancing at his phone every few seconds. 7:55pm. He’d arrived promptly at 7:30 to allow himself the opportunity to settle in, seem casual, build an alibi should anyone from the neighborhood or beyond happen upon him and subject him to interrogation. He’d imagined a million and one scenarios, his stories becoming more and more fluid as the questioning increased in severity. By 7:45 his resolve had faltered a bit, though he quickly reminded himself that it was Kevin who’d set the time and Kevin who’d sent a reminder, as well as a, hopefully, playful threat.

    The summer sun set late. It would be almost 9 by the time it fully set beyond the western mountains, casting everything into deep, dark night. Now, at 8pm, there was more than enough light to show someone mounted on a restored, candy-red ’92 Honda VT600 Shadow roll up to the curb beyond the park’s entrance.

    The mystery rider cut the engine and sat back in the seat, arms crossed, the tinted, visored helmet clearly looking towards him, “You comin or what?”

    Double-Dee felt both underdressed and intimidated. Whereas he’d resolved to wear cargo shorts and a simple band tee, Kevin was clad in black denim with a weathered, adobe-colored leather jacket. He needed to retain some of the rehearsed blasé attitude he’d constructed.

    “I’d accuse you of showing off but I’m afraid I don’t know enough about motorcycles or the necessary safety gear to offer any real criticism.” Humorous, self-effacing, humble.

    “Shut up Dork, put this on.” The careful waltz of clever witticisms was shattered, and Kevin lobbed a small backpack at Double-Dee. Inside was an equally weathered chartreuse leather jacket and an older, Italian motorcycle helmet.

    “First of all, Mr. Barr, don’t speak to me in that way.” Double-Dee let the bag drop to his feet and crossed his arms. “I’ll admit I’m positively disposed towards you but this disposition does not mean I’ll forgive disrespect.”

    Kevin kept his helmet visor down, a black-eyed cyclops that stared him down wordlessly. He triggered the kickstand switch and let the bike settle at a cant, dismounting and walking straight up to the other boy. He stood a full head taller, and he still didn’t raise the visor.

    “Well?” Gasoline fumes mingled with the aseptic bite of a cologne that had given up the ghost long ago. The closeness of the two as well as Kevin’s facelessness revived the sense of enticing danger Double-Dee had dismissed as romantic fantasy.

    Kevin flipped up the visor and was smiling. “You’re cute when ya want to act all tough, Mr. Vincent.” He scooped the bag up and handed it daintily to Double-Dee. “Pretty please, with sugar on top, put this on.”

    “Very well, but only because you asked so nicely.”

    Soon, they were off, riding for about an hour to the west, halfway between Peach Creek and Lemon Brook. Suburbs gave way to orchards, the new moon providing more than enough light to navigate the many backroads Kevin detoured. Here and there you’d spot farmhouses; lonely old things that looked abandoned, only the motion-activated security lights close to the road reminding you that people lived there.

    Even with earplugs, the sound of the bike’s engine was monstrously loud, the vibration of the road rattling Double-Dee numb. He’d kept his eyes clamped shut for much of the ride, but as Kevin slowed to take the winding roads to their unknown destination, he’d allowed himself to peek out into the night, take in the sights. In the milky-white brilliance of the new moon, details were discernable; old collapsed fence posts with depression-era barbed wire; an actual honest-to-god phone booth at a crossroads that still had a functioning light on the inside; an abandoned tractor that had been consumed by wild grass and weeds, a thicket forming around it; acres upon acres of anything and everything that grew on trees.

    Though named for the citrus fruit, no lemons grew in or around Lemon Brook. The main employer of the community, Staple and Citrus Cargo Company, named the town after the first product they’d shipped in upon opening in 1890: Lemons for the Navy from California. Rail-lines, weigh stations, turntables, fuel and water depots cross-hatched and dotted the county. This area surrounding the town was known as the badlands, beginning and ending at an old district boundary no one bothered to review.

    They finally came to a halt at the beginning of a gravel road that disappeared through a cluster of beech trees. Kevin killed the engine and sat for a moment, then turned his helmeted head.

    “Hey, uh, you can let go now.”

    Double-Dee did so, the blood rushing back into his arms, hands, fingers. “My apologies, Kevin, I’m not used to this mode of travel.”

    “It’s fine, Nazz hated riding this thing too.”

    Double-Dee dismounted shakily, his legs waking up. “I’m glad to know how other people you’ve dated enjoyed the experience.”

    “Come on, Double-Dee, I didn’t me-” Kevin saw that the other boy was politely stifling a laugh. “Good one, you really made me feel like a jerk.”

    “I can’t make you feel what you already suspect.” Eddward allowed himself the laugh and removed the helmet, his beanie pressed flat underneath.

    “I’ve never seen someone get helmet HAT before.” Kevin dismounted as well and walked the bike off the side of the road into a stand of already dying paper birches. Double-Dee was waiting for him as he reemerged, and Kevin thought on how ridiculous he looked in the oversized jacket, shorts, and chipped-white helmet, old-school driving goggles sitting crookedly across the brow. “You look like you shop at the Salvation Army.”

    Double-Dee considered what he was wearing and shrugged, “Half of this outfit was provided by you, so I’d say it reveals more about your own stylistic choices than mine.”

    “Fair enough, come on, we’re almost there.”

    They set off along the gravel road and entered the stand of beeches, Double-Dee taking note of the many bottles and cans strewn about the ground.

    “I take it this is a popular place for revelry, shame they’re so inconsiderate of the local flora.”

    Kevin stooped and came back up with one of the cans in hand. It was so faded, half-covered in a slimy, mossy sludge that he couldn’t make out any kind of date or design. He let it fall back among its brothers and wiped off the sludge on a tree as he walked by. “Used to be, all the upperclassmen would come here.”

    “We’re the upperclassmen now.”

    Kevin chuckled, “Yeah, we’re in the big leagues.”

    They exited the stand of trees and stood at the edge of a field of tall grass about two acres long by two acres wide. Rising out of the grass here and there were old hulks of various vehicles. They were rusted husks without engines, without seats, skeletons of skeletons. In the center of the field there rose a jagged mound of earth and steel. Bicycles, shopping carts, weathervanes, melted and crushed together into a chaotic mass half-buried by an abortive burial attempt. The earth that had been heaped upon it had, over time, solidified and compacted, and now was topped by thin, white, fluted flowers.

    What gave this mound shape was the most surprising specimen of all; beneath the wreckage and dirt sat an old tank, its turret turned slightly to the right, main gun held aloft by a sturdy-looking support brace bolted to the chassis.

    Kevin took Double-Dee’s hand and squeezed it. “Welcome to the ThunderDome.”

   Double-Dee giggled and took the lead, pulling Kevin along as he walked towards the mound. “I’d be interested to see what species of flower that is, as well as the model of the …”

    They’d only taken a few steps in when the fireflies, as though they had fallen asleep on the job, rose and began their display. The two teens were surrounded by a flurry of light, a chain reaction rippling outward across the field, legions upon legions of the luminescent insects taking flight. The new moon was obscured by a blanket of clouds that threatened rain and thunder, the night deepening across the land. The fireflies were transformed from points of light to living stars, meteors caught in the atmosphere of this private universe, celestial bodies that collided and danced all around them.

    “It’s beautiful, it’s like experiencing the moment after the Big Bang!”

    Kevin looked at Double-Dee and was struck by the awe, the wonder in his eyes. As those wide orbs of glacial blue diamonds took in the beauty of the moment, reflections of fireflies that passed close by blinked in and out of existence like sparks from a flint. For a moment Kevin was party to Double-Dee’s immense knowledge, imagination, and understanding, and in that moment he felt afraid. He was one of the most intelligent people Kevin had ever met, an inscrutable mind of unknowable potential. What could he offer him? What could he give to him that he couldn’t create himself, better, at ten times the scale with ten times the power?

    Double-Dee moved in close and laid his head on Kevin’s chest. “I could live in this moment for the rest of my life.”

    At a loss for a response, but feeling victorious, he held him close and said nothing.

READ THE FULL STORY IN SEQUENCE HERE

[rough-n-randy-rando]

Edd and Flow; First Contact

In the void that comes when one loses consciousness, there are a wide range of possibilities. Depending on what precisely was the trigger for said loss of consciousness, it can be just a black hole, no light, or thought, can escape the pull. In other cases, like exhaustion, dehydration, a mix of the two, there is a level of lucidity, a dreamy space in between the waking world and the void where uninhibited thoughts have the space to play themselves out. Much like falling asleep with the TV on and it having a direct impact on your dreams, what surrounds you filters into your dreamscape.

Kevin chose to put himself in a space of dominance, a literal spotlight bathing him in blinding white light from above, wearing a fluctuating wardrobe of athletic equipment, his confidence unquestionable and his pride unassailable. All around him crowds of faceless, cheering admirers clamored for him in the darkness. They called out his name, again and again, and as he waved at them with his baseball mitt, threw a football, bounced a soccer-ball on his head, they roared and swooned.

"Kevin?" a voice cut through the tumult, filled with affection and concern.

The redhead suddenly lost his balance, the soccer-ball ricocheting off his head and thudding embarrassingly somewhere beyond the cone of light, which began to grow wider, less powerful, less concentrated. The crowd gasped and fell silent on a dime. Kevin looked around, but couldn't find the source of his embarrassment, shaking it off and threw another football, perfectly spiraled, all the way to the endzone, flawless. The crowd roared again.

"Kevin, wake up, you're scaring me." The voice again, that sincere emotion.

The football he'd just thrown came sailing through the air right back at him, thudding hard off of his chest. Again, gasps from the crowd, only instead of silence, murmurs began. Whispers. The light grew even wider, dimmer, and his myriad of athletic attire was replaced by his old JROTC uniform, stripped of what few awards and what little rank he had. He still had his baseball mitt, and looked inside, finding a well-loved baseball. He removed it and threw it repeatedly into the mitt, hard, looking around, searching for the person ruining his reputation. The crowd clapped and whistled with guarded enthusiasm.

A soft breeze wafted over him, slightly warm, scented like toothpaste, and a cool sensation swept over his forehead, like someone was feeling for his temperature with the back of their hand. The light narrowed, leaving him in a beam barely large enough for him to stand in without spilling into the shadows. He began throwing fastball after fastball, his arm tireless, his supply endless. He had to hit something, someone. The crowd. They were wailing in unison, like people waiting for the wave to come to their section of the stadium, only it kept rising, and rising, and rising.

"Kevin, please, open your eyes." That soft breeze again, closer, warmer, on his face, not a breeze, breath, close, the soft wet sounds a mouth makes as someone worriedly grimaces, licks lips.

Kevin dropped the mitt, and reached out into the darkness, grabbing someone by the shoulders, sliding his hands up, a slender neck, silky hair curling down to meet him as they traveled up further, their chin, their cheeks, pulling them closer. There was resistance, but barely any, just surprise, warm, they're blushing, but still that prickly needle feeling. The warm breath, faster, unsure, excited, the soft brush of lips. Slightly colder, just barely, just enough.

"Double-Dee" It was his voice, his own voice, coming from the darkness that surrounded him. He could see the faint outline of the boy's features, his lips still just barely brushing against his own, the warm, minty breath now fusing with his own, spilling into his being.

"K…Kevin…"

"It'd be cute if I didn't hate half of the cast." Lee Kanker. The light exploded like the big bang, illuminating the faces of everyone he'd ever known, watching him in horror, in confusion, in disappointment, as he was planting the most grade-school of kisses onto Double-Dee; eyes half-closed, just enough pressure to feel his lips, not enough to part them. Then it all dissolved in a second flash of light and he was back in reality, which still included the kiss only now his audience was a disapproving Lee and a surprised Barb. Just Barb.

When he realized he'd finally been thrust back into the land of the living, he shoved the surprised teen away and skittered backwards like something out of an 80's horror movie, all hands and feet.

"Woah Kev, chill, it wasn't that hot." Lee shrieked with laughter and walked back around the counter, returning to her magazine.

"Red, calm down hon, I'm from San Francisco, no shame, no judgement. Not a bad choice either." Barb tried to break the tension with a motherly, sensible chuckle, looking between the two teens sitting on the floor for some sign of success.

"I'm, ah, I'm glad to see you're a-a-alright… Kevin." Double-Dee got to his feet and played with the hem of his shirt, trying to keep himself from making eye contact with the other teen.

Kevin stood and looked around. Lee, Double-Dee, Barb. Just Barb. No one else, no one else saw what'd happened. What he'd done. "Sorry, uh, Double-Dweeb, I thought you were, ah… Nazz, yeah."

"Give smarty some credit he's got a bit more baritone in his voice." Lee dramatically flipped a page of her magazine, leering at Double-Dee.

"I'm sure Kevin was disoriented, the heat is horrendous outside, and he did, ah, exert himself, after all."

Double-Dee was the only one giving Kevin an out, lending any credence to his half-assed explanation. He took it.

"Yeah, I mean, whoo, dizzy, woah." Kevin pressed a hand to his temple and leaned forward, putting a hand on his knee as though catching his breath. "Well I better get going home, gotta… lie down, and… stuff." Still pressing a hand to his temple he walked towards the door and could feel everyone's eyes on him, save for Double-Dee, who found something interesting to stare at behind the counter.

"You need a ride, Red?" Barb was trying to trap him into some awkward car ride, with 'you can talk to me's' and 'nothing leaves this car's' and Kevin knew it.

"No, thanks Barb, I need to clear my head."

"Gotta clear the Double-Dee from his mind." Lee was engrossed in her magazine and so didn't catch the withering look Kevin shot her.

He couldn't think of a retort, and so continued on his way out, stopping next to Double-Dee. "Thanks…" He needed to regain some kind of distance. "Eddward." And he left.

He'd only gone about a yard away before he heard the door to the shop open back up, sans bell, footsteps tapping and padding on the sidewalk. He continued walking, the sound of two car doors opening and closing, an old but well-maintained engine turning over, then a car approaching, and passing him. It was Barb's, Double-Dee in the passenger seat. He watched the car pass by, travel about a block, then stop, Double-Dee getting out. 'Crud' he thought to himself. He was waiting for Kevin, though he showed courtesy by looking at his cell phone, allowing him to approach without eyes on him as Barb had driven away.

He stopped a few feet away and waited.

Double-Dee put away his phone and looked to Kevin, "Barb mentioned some 'work' you had yet to complete. Am I right to assume it is a tattoo?"

Kevin mulled over a response. The dork had let him escape with something like dignity. And he was alone with him, finally. It had been a roundabout way of arriving at this point. "Gift from my Uncle when I turned 16. Top Secret, my old man doesn't know about it."

"May I ask where it is located?" Double-Dee was making eye contact now, though his expression was inscrutable.

Alone. Just the two of them on a Peach Creek sidewalk, baking. Kevin was baking, at least, Double-Dee, beanie and all, was immaculate.

"I'm not wearing anything under this monkey suit, to show ya I'd have to strip and I don't feel like doin it for everyone to see." Sweat. Not nervous, at least. But he did feel rank, cold coffee, grease, several layers of sweat. Was he just making excuses up in his head to let whatever was trying to happen, happen? What even was happening?

"Well, maybe some other time then." Double-Dee had gone from giving Kevin an out to pressing him against a figurative wall. Would there be another time? Could a catastrophe as perfect as what had transpired even possibly repeat itself? The other teen turned to go.

"Come over to my place, I can change and then show ya." Kevin started walking, brushing past Double-Dee without looking back. He heard footsteps and smiled.

The cul de sac was quiet save for the soft rumble and buzz of AC units on high and padmounted transformers working overtime in the heat. Only a couple families were home. Kevin's father was out of town, but due home in the evening. There was a wide window, and Kevin was leaping through it. There was no real plan besides getting indoors. Out of sight. Out of people's mouths.

Double-Dee was still behind him, about three steps behind. He'd glanced back when they turned into the neighborhood and saw that he was being observed by the other teen, his face betraying nothing.

"Heya Kevin, Double-Dee!"

Johnny's voice rang out like a cow-bell, loud and sharp. Kevin imagined it rattling dishes, waking people from midday naps, shaking fillings loose in corpses six feet under the ground. But no, the world remained silent and the cast had only increased by one.

"Why hello Johnny." Eddward Vincent, calm, cool, collected. Double-Dee, Triple-C's.

"Crud." Kevin Barr, stupid. Single S.

"What are you guys up to?" Johnny ambled over, Plank in hand. He'd sprouted during the summer between Freshman and Sophomore year, and now stood just a hair less than Kevin. His head, though, remained the ridiculous melon it'd always been.

Kevin had to think fast. For once he did. "Double-Dee's helping me with stuff for summer school."

"Aw, Kevin, really, summer school?"

"Yeah, you know, math, man, it kills me."

"Why yes Johnny, Kevin came to get me when I got off work, he's been quite diligent."

Kevin looked at Double-Dee. Nothing, just a pleasant smile.

"Plank says he thinks you're full of it. Rude, buddy."

Kevin's head had won a round, now his body would. He reached over and grabbed ahold of Plank. "Johnny, go long, Plank's goin for a long walk!" He tossed it like a very short, very awkward javelin, but the principle worked. Plank sailed off into the distance, across the lane, possibly into Nate's back yard.

"I'm coming for ya buddy!" Johnny took off in a clumsy, loping gait.

Double-Dee began to offer up some kind of objection when Kevin grabbed hold of him by the wrist and took off at a dead sprint, trailing him behind like a ribbon caught in a wind current. They covered the remaining ground to Kevin's house in record time, slamming into the front door, throwing it open and slamming it hard behind them. They were both panting, Kevin leaning on every available surface, his lightheadedness returning.

"I believe…" Double-Dee was slumped against the front door, drawing deep breaths, feeling his pulse. "I was promised… A private… viewing…"

Kevin made his way to his room, leaning on one side of the hallway then the other, his headache calming, his vision clearing. He was shivering by the time he got to his room, the house was like an icebox, his room only slightly warmer because it was facing the sun. He quickly stripped off his coverall and stood in just his underwear collecting himself. He felt gross, his skin tacky, red, a bruise forming on his arm from his fall in the Café.

"What am I doing?" He asked himself aloud, and no answer came. Then there was a knock at the door. Moment of truth. "I'm still changing."

"Does it really matter if you intended to disrobe in the first place?" There was a hint of nervousness in his voice.

There wasn't much he could say to that. Hesitantly he walked to the door and put his hand on the doorknob. He opened the door slightly, looking down at the ground, noticing that Double-Dee had taken off his shoes, curling and uncurling his toes in the carpet. The other boy's eyes were locked on his when he looked up.

Kevin had never known a deeper blue than that which he found in Double-Dee's eyes. It reminded him of the water you'd see in commercials for the Bahamas, pure, shimmering, dark ripples of captured light and shadow. There wasn't fear in them, there was longing, while in Kevin's heart he was afraid, terrified, of this raven-haired kid he'd known for most of his life.

He stepped back from the door and opened it all the way, Double-Dee taking a tentative step forward.

"I… believe I can see part of the design." The dork was sticking to the script, trying to let it happen naturally. Whatever IT was.

"Yeah…" Kevin turned so that the tattoo was clearly visible. It was an uncolored shark's grin in profile, with cartoonish sharp teeth and a furrowed brow, what looked like a multi-barreled cannon coming out of its nose. "It's nose-art, like what my dad had on the plane he flew in the Air Force." He rubbed at the incomplete design. "My 'Uncle' is his closest friend from back then. He said when my dad finally does see it to blame him and only him." A smirk played across his face. "It's dumb, kid stuff…"

Double-Dee stepped closer and reached out, tracing each jagged tooth slowly and deliberately. "It's quite fearsome."

The needles didn't come this time. Instead he felt a warm heaviness at the center of him, something bubbling, threatening to spill over. Before his dam could break, Double-Dee lifted himself slightly on the balls of his feet and pressed his lips to Kevin's. Kevin closed his eyes and savored the moment, small tremors across his body as his heart kicked into overdrive, the needles returning, washing all over.

Double-Dee pulled away, looking deeply into the emerald wells that were Kevin's eyes. This time Kevin leaned down and kissed the other boy, wrapping his arms around his waist while Double-Dee lifted his arms and draped them over his shoulders. Their lips parted, overlapped, Double-Dee biting Kevin softly, a slight moan escaping. They both pulled one another closer, passionate embraces that made their hearts race. The kiss was broken and Double-Dee moved down the jock's neck, a thrill running down his spine as he felt warm breath, then a tongue, play across his skin.

Then like that, it was over, and the two simply held one another, their hearts banging away inside their chests like prisoners in neighboring cells trying to reach the outside world.

"Your neck tastes like coffee." Double-Dee buried his face in Kevin's chest.

Kevin could feel them both vibrating with energy, running like furnaces. "Yeah I'm Gross." The two shared a laugh and grew quiet again.

"Kevin, you home?" Arthur Barr, 48, Retired Air Force Captain, manager of every candy production factory in this part of the state, home early and down the hall from his son half-naked and embracing another boy. Kevin wanted to laugh. Well he wanted to die, but first he'd laugh.

"You have to go." Kevin ran to the window and practically ripped the blinds from their mounts, throwing the window open and grabbing Double-Dee by the collar. "Gogogo!"

Double-Dee clambered out wordlessly, though there was a frantic look across his face.

"Kev, buddy, you left the garage open so I hope you're home." Closer, probably hanging up his keys on the goofy, wall-mounted hook that looked like a WW2 fighter plane.

"Yeah, Dad I'm here, just, felt sick." Kevin turned to see if Double-Dee had escaped yet and was met with another kiss, this one brief but no less passionate.

"Please don't let this be a mistake, Kevin." He was biting his lip and searching Kevin's face for reassurance.

Kevin wondered if that's what this was, if it was something he could bury and let fester till judgement day, deny to anyone and everyone, including himself. He pulled the dork by the collar and planted an equally brief yet equally passionate kiss and then pushed him away. "Tomorrow, The Playground, 8." And with that he closed the window and tried to re-mount the heavily damaged blinds. He saw Double-Dee clear the rear fence through the wreckage just as his father entered.

"What the hell, Kev, put some pants on, and what did you do to the shades?"

"It was hot, I came in to change, and, the, uh, I tripped on my clothes, yeah, sorry, I'll fix it."

"I hope so, I'm not buying new ones." His father was tired, and Kevin thanked whatever corporate asshole had overburdened him for the last year. Arthur vanished from the doorway and retired to his home office, likely to finish off some work on the computer before passing out in his chair.

Kevin gave up trying to reseat the blinds and laid them on the ground, then walked over and closed his door. He put his back to it and slid down till his knees were pressed to his chest. This had been the longest day of his life. And there was still tomorrow yet to survive.

READ THE FULL STORY IN SEQUENCE HERE

[rough-n-randy-rando]

Edd and Flow, Day One

For a town that neither shrank nor grew noticeably, any business that had opened within the last five years was considered new. Java Hut was one of those businesses. About the size of two shipping containers stacked on top of each other and crammed between The Candy Store and Toomey's Tattoos, it was usually a busy place. The very first weekend of summer, with everyone having taken off like they were on the lam, it was almost completely empty.

There were only three people keeping the place warm: Eddward Vincent, known locally as Double-Dee; Barb; just Barb; and a trucker just passing through. Barb, Just Barb, 65-year-old owner of Toomey's, was taking her break and enjoying another romance novel she'd saved from the Goodwill. The Trucker was deeply contemplating the selection of doughnuts to pair with his pitch-black coffee. Eddward Vincent was behind the counter, offering helpful dietary and nutritional advice on each item in an attempt to help him make up his mind.

"I'm not a fancy guy, just something sweet, but not too sweet, gotta watch my weight." The trucker slapped his belly, which thumped like a drum, and laughed. "Ah, hell, gimme the Maple Bar, I'm treatin' myself."

"Excellent choice, sir, one moment." Double-Dee pressed a button and enjoyed the impressed look on the man's face as the doughnut was cycled on a conveyor belt and slid into a waiting paper bag, then lifted to the counter by a spatula/elevator device riveted to the display case.

"Now that's nifty, this from Japan or somethin'?"

"No Sir, it's a design of my own!"

"Well waddya know, we still make 'em smart here in the States after all." The man handed over a five and waved off the change. "Put it to college and remember me when ya win the Nobel or somethin'."

"Thank you, have a wonderful day."

After the trucker left, Barb whistled at Double-Dee and pointed to her lipstick-stained coffee mug. "Mind topping me off, Sugar, story's getting good and I'm remembering how old I am, need a jolt." As Double-Dee obliged her, she set her book down and looked him over. "You know, this town's dead as Tombstone and yet here you are slaving over an empty store." She took out a small compact and checked that her hair, grey with dyed black streaks, was still tied back and nothing was out of place. "Handsome, hardworking boy like you should be out making trouble, breaking girl's hearts; don't you have some doe-eyed cheerleader fawning after you somewhere?"

Double-Dee blushed and replaced the pot of coffee. "Yes, well, I'm set to graduate soon, and degrees sadly don't pay for themselves, Mrs. Sebastopol."

"Baby Doll, it's Barb, Just Barb."

"Mother told me to always refer to adults with respectful titles."

"Well I'm not your mother and I'm not royalty so just call me Barb."

Double-Dee sat at a stool near the end of the counter closest to Barb and smiled. "Alright, 'Barb'."

"See, wasn't so hard, not like your momma's gonna come through the door over there and start beating you with a wooden spoon or nothing."

"A very colorful scenario, 'Barb'."

Barbara pushed her winged-frame glasses up her nose, "You still didn't answer my question."

Again Double-Dee blushed and he gave a nervous laugh in response. "W-well, ah, I suppose I haven't… found the… right person."

"Gotta take time for romance, Darling. That's how I met my James." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her heavily tattooed arms. "Met him while he was on Liberty in San Francisco, Fleet Week, I was working at a diner called Pinecrest. He was with some of his buddies and at the border of drunk, saying he was the 'responsible one.' He was five-six, barely came to my chin, but he was all muscle, with hands like baseball mitts and a face like Gene Kelly. And that uniform, woof. Asked me out as he was carrying one of his buddies to the Cab."

The shop's door rung as it opened, ripping Double-Dee away from San Francisco, Pinecrest Diner, and the diminutive but immensely attractive Mr. Sebastopol. Kevin, dressed in a mechanic's coverall and his signature cap, halted a few steps in and seemed as though he suddenly wanted to leave. He'd come with the specific coal of 'casually' running into the dork, making as much small talk as possible with the dork, and being as close as possible to the dork. And now, he felt the urge to sprint home, and get as far away as possible from the dork.

"Oh hello, Kevin, forgive me I was hearing the most wonderful story."

Barb stood and drained her coffee in one big swig, inhaling sharply through her teeth afterwards, "Stuff's cold. My own damn fault." She pinched Double-Dee's cheek and gathered her things. "Should be getting back to work, stop bothering you with my memories." When she saw the disappointment on his face she checked her watch. "It's a slow day anyways, maybe I'll close up the shop and come bore you with the rest in an hour or so, how's that?"

"Please, 'Barb', I do not wish you to inconvenience yourself just for the sake of my curiosity."

"I own the damn place, nothing inconvenient about it." With that she took her leave, stopping at Kevin to give him a friendly punch in the arm. "And you, when are you coming back to finish up your work, eh?"

Kevin was glad it was the summer, that he was in a thick coverall, and that he'd just walked a half mile on a whim, because his new nervous sweat was easily masked by all the exertion. "Yeah, hah, great to see you too, Barb."

Barb gave him a quizzical look, then licked her thumb and wiped away a smudge of grease on his cheek. "Take a shower at some point today, Red."

And with that, Barb, Just Barb, made her exit, leaving the two with only open air and a cabinet full of doughnuts between them.

"Coffee!" Kevin blurted out, aware he sounded like he was trying to talk over someone. It was possibly his own thoughts both encouraging and dissuading him to do something, damnit.

Double-Dee jumped at the near-order and crossed to the machines, fretting and fumbling over the cups. "What size, wh-what kind?"

"Coffee?" His brain was screaming at him.

"Yes, Kevin, what kind, what size?"

"Hot… Hot Coffee. Sm... Medium."

Double-Dee calmed slightly, recovering from the surprise. "Is house blend fine?"

"House. Fine, finefinefine." His brain had stopped screaming because it was dead.

Double-Dee went about pouring a medium house coffee utilizing a set of hydraulic arms and claws that quickly, safely, and efficiently delivered the steaming-hot drink straight to Kevin, an accordion-style arm presenting it. "That'll be two dollars and fifty cents, please."

Kevin fumbled one-handed with his wallet and deftly dropped it to the floor as he pulled out a five. He stood there, coffee in one hand, bill in the other. Double-Dee cautiously walked around the counter and stooped to get Kevin's wallet. Kevin's body finally made some kind of connection to his mind and he stooped after as well, his chin meeting the back of the ravenette's head.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry, dude!"

Kevin instinctively brought his hands down to pull Double-Dee up, and accomplished slapping the other teen in the face with a five-dollar bill and spilling half of his piping-hot coffee on him as well. Double-Dee stood up abruptly and this time it was his head in the role of attacker, slamming Kevin's mouth shut with a loud CLACK as his teeth became reacquainted. Kevin was knocked off balance and fell backwards, causing him to grab at the air with his now empty hand, snagging Double-Dee's beanie. Double-Dee, with lightning reflexes, grabbed onto his hat and held for dear life, being pulled along, then down, with Kevin.

The two came to rest a coffee, grease and sweat-stained pile. Double-Dee's head was resting on Kevin's chest, and Kevin was holding onto the other boy like they'd just finished making love.

"You, uhm… you okay, Double Dweeb?" 'Yes, good, save face insult him AND ask after his well-being' his inner voice hissed.

"This has been a rather…" Double-Dee rose slightly and shifted into a sitting position, straddling Kevin, his hair disheveled and emerging from under his now wet hat, "… Interesting encounter."

Kevin felt blood rushing back to the brain in his head, as well as his other brain just below the waist. He heard the bell on the door ring and craned his head to see who had entered to witness his shame.

"You know it's against company policy to bang in the store on the clock, right?" Lee Kanker stepped over Kevin and made her way to the rear of the store, calling over her shoulder, "Double-Dee, clean that up will ya, I'm going to change."

Double-Dee looked at his watch, then at his coffee-stained clothes, and the coffee-stained floor, and the coffee-stained redhead he was mounted on. "Messy, messy, messy, these stains will be aggravating to remove." He stood and cautiously leaned over the counter to press a button, summoning a robot that looked like a filing cabinet crossed with a mop bucket that set about cleaning the ground, letting out an annoyed beep each time it found the way obstructed by a still prostrate Kevin. "Please get off the floor, Kevin, it's very dirty, then again I suppose you're rather messy yourself." He extended his hand.

Whatever mix of bravado, sheepishness, and utter stupidity had previously been rattling around inside him was gone, and now Kevin, neutral and defeated, took the offered hand and rose.

"Thanks for the Coffee." Kevin turned on his heel like the failed JROTC cadet he was and strode out, breaking into a dead sprint the minute his foot hit the sidewalk.

Lee came back and took a seat behind the counter, flipping through a Playgirl magazine and putting in headphones. "He had a hard-on."

Double-Dee spun around, his face turning crimson. "Excuse me!?"

Lee ripped out one of the pages and stuffed it in her bra, "Kevin, rock hard."

Double-Dee was speechless. He attempted some kind of response, smoothed out his soaked apron, tucked his loose, wet hair back under his hat, composed himself, and strode towards the rear of the store.

"Be proud, it's a compliment" she called after him, tearing another photo of a near-nude man out and putting him with his compatriot.

Meanwhile, Kevin, winded and his heart thudding in his ears, was about to turn back into the cul de sac when he tripped and gorilla-rolled across the sidewalk, coming to rest on his back. He laid there, staring up into the sun, wishing for it to burn him to a crisp, when a familiar face came into view.

"Kevin, why are you splayed like a fresh pelt on a tanning board, and why do you smell of a Peruvian/Chilean blend?"

"Rolf, bro, I couldn't tell you to save my life." He was pained at the truth in that. He was barely able to contemplate or come to terms with his own feelings, let alone begin to try and play out other people's reactions to them. "I just… I got it bad for someone."

"It? Bad? What, Worms? Rolf has cure for this pestilential malady! Come, we'll ferment some of Victor's milk and pickle a dozen of Gertrude's eggs, you'll be purged and fit enough to harvest an entire field in no time!" Rolf lifted Kevin up bodily and placed him on his feet. "You do not seem as though you are bothered by things which creep and crawl on your insides, tell Rolf your worry so that he may tailor a solution."

"I like someone, dude." It might have been the need to tell someone something, even if it wasn't everything; it might have been the dizziness from getting hit in and falling onto his head consecutively in the span of a few minutes; or it might have been the loneliness that went hand in hand with his recent thoughts, but he let fly. "I don't know why, or, I think I know why, but I don't know what to do, how to do it, you know what I mean?"

"No, Rolf does not understand this."

Kevin let out a sigh. "Forget it, man."

"Rolf does not understand this 'not knowing', this 'why.' If you feel the rustlings of the undergrowth of your heart you do not turn and run like some child without hair on their chest; you declare yourself to your desired, you build a home for them, and plant many a fertile seed so as to leave no doubt of your prowess and virility."

Kevin felt a second wind in him, his friend's words echoing in his head. "I don't know about the planting seeds and whatever but yeah, YEAH, that's what I'm gonna do."

"Ensuring a bountiful harvest is important to courtship, flat-end-of-bread Kevin, now you are saying things that Rolf cannot approve of."

Kevin embraced his friend and took off running back towards Java Hut.

"If you do have worms tell Rolf, he already has the milk and eggs!"

Back at the shop, Barb was engaged in commentary of the men in the magazine with Lee, Double-Dee emerging from the back clean and dry.

"There you are, I thought you'd changed your mind and taken off to avoid my story."

Double-Dee chuckled, feeling refreshed after he'd utilized his patented solo-shower kit. "I wouldn't miss the conclusion of your story for anything, 'Barb'"

"Oooh, juicy gossip?" Lee leaned towards Barb expectantly, Double-Dee sitting beside her at a respectful distance.

"Just talking about my James."

"I remember him, short guy, like my Eddy."

Barb sighed and nodded, reached into her purse and pulled out a much-loved photograph in a cloudy, plastic sleeve. She pulled the photo out and held it so they could see. Barb was young, thin, and naked, a yellow sundress thrown over her shoulder. Double-Dee blushed, Lee whistled. Besides her was a stocky, muscular man with his arms crossed and wearing only a smile, his impressive equipment on proud display. Double-Dee giggled nervously, and Lee nodded in approval. While Barb's skin was an empty canvas, James was a mosaic of Marine iconography, Catholic imagery and more than a couple Japanese geishas in demure and lewd poses.

"He gave me my first ink, our second date." She lifted her arm so they could see her armpit, a wide-hipped hula girl winking back at them. It had clearly gotten a few touch ups over the years, the most well-cared for tattoo out of her many. "The photo's from our first date, Baker Beach. He left for Vietnam a few days later and swore he'd kill anyone and anything to get back to me, even 'the poor bastard who makes the mistake of marrying you before me.' He was a romantic."

"Marriage, after a couple of dates?" Double-Dee was amazed.

"Did you not see what he was packing? I'd have married him on the spot." Lee let out a lecherous laugh and high-fived Barb.

Barb wiped away a tear, smiling at her photograph and other fond memories. "You just know. It's corny, it's old fashioned, but, we did, and so I think anyone can. Plus, he came back in one piece, so I knew he'd be tougher than anything that came our way."

"What happened to Mr. Sebasto… James?" Double-Dee winced as Lee smacked his shoulder.

"Cancer. Had to be something that mean to take my James down. The only thing he couldn't beat with his bare hands." Barb laughed and wiped her eyes again. "No I don't dwell on that. I had him, he was mine, not everyone gets that chance, that blessing."

The door to the shop didn't open so much as it exploded inward, the bell snapping loose as it rung. Kevin stumbled in, soaked to the waist in sweat, coffee stains still on him. Everyone in the shop stared at Kevin, but he only had eyes for, and on, Double-Dee.

"Kevin, you're in even shoddier a state than when you left, what happened!?" Double-Dee sprung from his seat and moved to Kevin, putting his hands on his shoulders and meeting his gaze, assessing him for heat injuries.

"Plant… fffffertile… seeeehhuuuuh." He didn't fall into Double-Dee's arms so much as collapsed into them, then onto him.

"Oh dear, not again." There was no helping it, the pair fell to the ground. "Some assistance, please?"

READ FULL STORY IN SEQUENCE HERE

[rough-n-randy-rando]

Edd and Flow, The First Night Of Summer

The air smelled of summer. Earth and ozone were heavy in the humid air, intermittent storms making their way to torment the mountains to the west. Dogs yipped at fireflies as they rose from the tall grass near the swollen creek and fluttered about like wild embers in the creeping dusk. In the cul-de-sac, dinners were being eaten, chores were being done, plans were being made. This was the last summer of childhood, the gateway to Senior Year, to college tours and military recruiters roaming the halls, to future success or the pit of immediate mediocrity.

Kevin Barr worried that he was at the edge of the pit rather than on any path to a different, rosier outcome. He had cruised through high school on the bare minimum, lettering in any sport that involved a ball and some measure of physical violence. But Peach Creek isn't scouted like Boston or D.C. or Rhode Island, and so while the bare minimum was enough to allow his athletic career to go uninterrupted, his prospects were slim. His father's voice was stuck in his head saying, 'There's always the Army.' He shrugged it off, shuddering at the prospect of getting yelled at for a living by legions of men who reminded him of his father, minus the warmth and intelligence to cushion their authority and judgement.

This was the year to pull out the stops, make every Hail Mary he could think of, even if it were Lemon Brook Junior College. Last resort. 'There's always the Army.' Last of last resorts. But that was for another day, another time. Tonight, here and now, there was a party to attend, and worries to drown.

The party started to take shape around 7. Nate's family was in California on business and wouldn't be back till the day before graduation, so he naturally became the host and organizer. The first to arrive and help set up the well-loved speaker system was Johnny, with Plank's help of course. Then came Nazz with Kevin, Rolf following with a wagon full of various types of meats in plastic and metal containers. The Kankers arrived together bearing peace offerings of several cases of beer obtained through dubious means. Nate sanctioned the deal and declared his house neutral ground.

As a dozen or so other kids from Peach Creek High arrived and took advantage of Nate's luxurious home, the question arose, 'Where are the Eds?'

"Well I mean, I invited them." Nate said offhandedly as he thumbed through the playlist on his phone, settling on an EDM song who's only lyrics were, 'feed me your love'.

Kevin groaned and grabbed a beer from the rapidly draining supply in the fridge. "Eddy's gonna say something to someone and it'll all go South."

Nazz pinched his arm and stole the beer from his hand, topping off her solo cup before handing it back, "You're just worried he'll say something to YOU and YOU'LL make a big scene."

"I thought you were all buddy-buddy with the short one now, ever since that whole cross-country chase y'all went on in Junior High?" Nate also snatched Kevin's beer and took a sip.

"Eddy's Eddy, he's always out for another scam, something to make him money or make him look good."

"Well good, because I can only play my Spoofy playlist for so long before people get bored." Nate handed back the nearly empty beer to Kevin and turned to walk out to the pool. "We need a little excitement and scandal every now and again."

Kevin huffed and turned to Nazz, "He just doesn't know the Eds like we do."

Nazz shook her head and sipped at her drink, "Maybe just Ed or Double-Dee will show up, Eddy's supposed to be moving to The City right after graduation so for all we know he's apartment shopping right now."

"Yeah, maybe just Double-Dork…"

The lights in the house all cut out abruptly. People yelped and cursed, phone screens and flashlights piercing the darkness. The speaker system shrieked, causing even more chaos.

"The Germans!" someone cried out, causing nervous laughter and breaking a bit of the tension.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, and of course Kevin…"

"I knew it, Shorty had to make an entrance!" Kevin saw a pulsing neon glow approaching the rear fence near the pool and tried to make his way out of the house, tripping on Plank en route.

"I, Eddy Reese, your facilitator, your entertainer, your guy in the know, present for you an entertainment extravaganza unlike any you've ever seen!"

A stage adorned with stadium-quality lights that pulsed and flashed along to a heavy, percussive beat with what can only be described as a crystalline hissing sound rose over Nate's rear fence. It was emerging from the lane, slowly and deliberately, billowing thick grey smoke that flowed into the yard and even spilled onto the surface of the pool, obscuring a couple that was involved in some heavy petting. It was about 8 feet tall, 10 feet wide, and 6 feet deep, with a drawn, pitch-black curtain swaying slightly as the entire traveled through the air on barely visible supports.

"Whatever this is, I'm sold." Nate had stripped down to just his boxer briefs and had managed to adorn himself with glow bracelets and necklaces, as well as what looked like a military-grade chemlight that was clenched in his teeth.

"I knew the dorks would pull something!" Kevin had emerged from the house, Plank in one hand, a pocket flashlight in the other, which he used to scan the crowd for the usual suspects.

"Chill out Kev, this looks fun." Nazz had taken off her shirt and was also covered in glowing jewelry, her bra patterned with various amorous emojis.

"Yes hot of the collar Kevin, join in the merriment and cease your sour face making!" Rolf was wearing tube socks, a jock strap and not much else.

Everyone barely had a moment to take in the sight before the stage finally settled with a crescendo of electronic insanity, punctuated by the stage-lights all fading out and back in as a deep, dark red.

"People of Peach Creek!" A single floodlight snapped on and aimed skyward, revealing Eddy standing at the uppermost level of the stage, the light making him seem villainous. "I give you, Edstravaganza!"

The lights on stage began to strobe as the curtain parted, revealing none other than Ed, standing alone and wearing a billowing robe as well as a vacant but pleasant look on his face. The lights flashed brilliantly, like a chain of precise lighting strikes that dazzled and awed the rapt audience. They slowly diminished, easing into a weak but steady pulse. Ed stared out into the crowd and the crowd stared back. The crowd stared at Ed and Ed stared back. Ed stood upon the stage, a mysterious figure cloaked in magnificence and showmanship, and those gathered were in the palm of his hand. And that was it, he just stood there. The lights suddenly snapped to their full brilliance; Ed still unmoving.

"Hey, Lumpy, you're on!" Eddy's shoe dropped down and bounced off Ed's head, eliciting no response. Kevin began to laugh.

Suddenly, Ed threw off the robe, revealing that he was stripped to the waist with an intricate network of what looked like EKG nodes and wires crisscrossing his torso and arms.

"You Got it Eddy!" Ed threw out his arms and the lights turned a mossy, aquatic turquois, the strobes speeding up as he fluttered his fingers. As he raised his arms above his head the percussive beat rose in tempo as well, a slight whining pitch emerging from the depths of the stage. He clapped his hands and the lights all shifted to violet and indigo, bathing everything in color.

A woman's voice cut through all the sound and implored no one in particular, 'Trap for me!'

And so the party raged, guided by the kinesics of Ed and the occasional, orgasmic words of unseen men and women begging the audience to perform various vaguely musical actions. The party had grown, kids that weren't even from Peach Creek were arriving with more alcohol and more than a little drama. Word had gotten out, and Eddy quickly capitalized, charging admission and harassing people that tried to cheat the house by clambering over the fence.

Kevin escaped the borderline riot by climbing onto the roof, discovering that other exhausted party goers had gotten the same idea. He was soaked in sweat, and was splattered with the contents of several chemlights, looking almost radioactive. Even after stripping off his shirt he felt like he was running hot, and a few splotches of the glowing fluid were visible on his skin. "Damnit Nate…"

"Mix a solution of one teaspoon liquid dishwashing detergent, one-fourth cup distilled white vinegar, and one cup of cool water."

Kevin was startled and looked to the far end of the roof. Edd was sitting comfortably on a padded camping stool, with what looked like a control panel balanced on his knees. He was dressed casually, possibly owing to the humidity, wearing a tank-top with a design of the solar system across the chest, a fanny pack, and a pair of vintage men's athletic shorts that looked more at home on a beach in Florida than in a Peach Creek cul de sac.

"Oh, hey Double-Dee… uhm… what?"

"The recipe I gave was for a simple mixture that will clean the luminescent fluid from your clothing without ruining the color." He looked Kevin over and giggled.

"What's so funny?" Kevin felt his face get warm, though not in anger, more embarrassment, like he'd been caught with his, well, his shirt off on a rooftop in the dead of night.

"Oh, nothing, just having a laugh over the small amount on your skin, it's quite amusing."

"Yeah, Nate decided he wanted to write his name on his 'property' and went around trying to write 'NKG' on me and a few others." Kevin wiped at the fluid, smearing it more and transferring it to his palm.

"Well I see you escaped the branding, though not wholly unscathed." Double-Dee set down the control panel and walked over to Kevin, taking the glowing hand in his own. "Luckily this chemical is both non-toxic and simple to clean off."

Kevin watched Double-Dee consider his hand like some kind of specimen, a wave of prickly, cold needles washing over him at the coolness of the raven-haired teen's fingers played across his skin. Kevin felt warm, unusually warm, and while he could chalk some of it up to the rave going on just past the lip of the roof, he felt the odd sensation that it had something to do with the boy holding his hand. His other hand moved to his stomach and likewise smeared and stained itself, Kevin watching it with detached confusion.

"Oh my, now both your hands are glowing." Double-Dee lightly took hold of the other hand as well, making a flustered face that bordered on the maternally annoyed. "What are we going to do with you?"

Kevin didn't know why but his hands closed around the other boy's fingers, not harshly, not menacingly, but just enough to press them fully to against his own. Again, the difference in temperature between the two stirred up some bubbly, anxious humor in his belly and further south. Was that it, was it just that he was slightly colder, and his body was reacting to it? These thoughts and more came to a halt as he felt Double-Dee's hands squeeze back.

"Is something wrong, Kevin?"

The redhead instantly released the boy's hands and set about neurotically searching for something to do with his own; stuffing them in his pockets, wiping his forehead, scratching his belly, sliding under his very sweaty armpits, and finally hanging uselessly at his side. "Ah, no, just, your hands are cold, is all."

"I have poor circulation, Father ties it to my lack of physical exertion but Mother attributes it to an old Vincent family malady, we're all slaves to our genetics in the end." Double-Dee smiled pleasantly at Kevin, totally nonplussed.

Kevin nodded and nodded and grunted something akin to "uh huh, uh huh" without truly understanding a single word he'd said. It would seem impossible but a quiet settled between the two while the impromptu concert dominated the soundwaves all around.

"You two are cute."

The pair jumped, Double-Dee letting out a small squeak and Kevin throwing his cap at the now glowing Nate laying luxuriously on the roof nearby.

"Don't do that!" Kevin shouted.

"Do what, lay on MY roof watching MY friends get… friendly?" Nate flung Kevin's cap back at him.

"Nathaniel, you startled me." Double-Dee tugged at the front of his shirt, airing himself out.

"I have that effect on people." He stood and walked over to Double-Dee, putting him in a very intimate hug, soaked in sweat and chemlight fluid, still dressed in only his boxer briefs. "You really outdid yourself with the light show, makes Eddy's promoter shtick almost tolerable."

Double-Dee, clearly dismayed by the physical contact and the unsanitary state of Nate, nodded and tried his best to escape the teen's embrace. "Y-y-yes, ah, Eddy can be rather overbearing where profits are involved, I hope you won't hold it against him."

"No, but I'm fine with this situation as far as holding things against other people goes."

"While I appreciate the levity you're approaching the situation with I think I should go and try to calm Eddy down, as well as check on Ed, he must be parched."

"Yeah, Nate, I think Double-Dweeb has better things to do than get dry humped by you." Kevin knew his hands were balled into fists but for the life of him he couldn't explain why.

Nate nodded and released Double-Dee with a cartoonish, meaty, sucking sound as they came unstuck from one another. "Very well, please see to the evening's festivities."

A loud thud and a sudden burst of shrieking feedback came from the stage, the lights all snapping back onto flood-mode. Dismayed boos and surprised shouts came from the sizeable crowd below. The trio looked out and saw that Ed had collapsed to the floor in an inhuman puddle of sweat.

"All Done!" Ed wheezed from his place on stage.

Eddy fought his way to the stage, pockets and a backpack bursting with bills. He climbed on stage and began trying to revive the larger Ed, using entreaties and threats in equal measure.

"Oh dear, Ed must be absolutely exhausted, curse my curiosity!" Double-Dee started as though to leave but paused and turned to look at Kevin, biting his lip.

Kevin was frozen to the spot, his knees locking up and leaving him vulnerable to a stiff breeze. Double-Dee approached and removed a sky-blue bandanna from his fanny pack, using it to lightly scrub at Kevin's palm, lifting some of the glowing fluid.

"There, see, nothing drastic, just a little elbow grease, which I'm sure you have no shortage of." Double-Dee squeezed Kevin's bicep, pausing in appreciation, then hurried off, bidding Nate a brief farewell in passing. Kevin noticed a large letter 'K' written on his back in chemlight fluid.

"I couldn't help myself, after your Saved By The Bell moment I had to."

Kevin, unable to respond, walked towards the edge of the roof, Nate standing beside him. "Nate… not a word."

"What about a tasteful nude drawing?"

Kevin put his hand to Nate's back and gave a firm shove, sending him flying out into the crowd. As Nate surfed the rowdy sea of teens and the Eds alternatingly argued and tended to their friend, Kevin looked at the unremarkable blue bandanna and felt the unfamiliar cool needles attack him all over.

READ THE FULL STORY IN SEQUENCE HERE

[rough-n-randy-rando]

…To sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested…

Hunter S. Thompson (via introspectivepoet)