#his crack pipe fell on the floor and rolled when the bus stopped at an intersection

[muskmelon-enjoyer-199x]

trains in europe are cool because they're affordable and eco-friendly and go everywhere and blah blah blah

actually my favorite part about european trains is that I never had to deal with tweakers sexually harassing me or spitting in my general direction

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Can you do J trying to surprise reader cause she had a rough day once she gotten off work and j thought of something that he think it'll make her sequel with joy

Thank you so much for your request @jokerslittlekeeper 💖❤️💕💜 I’ve had some really rough days lately myself so this was nice to write, I really hope you like it!!

Self-insert, Ledger Joker x fem reader, romantic relationship, fluff

Word count: 1,827

Warnings: light alcohol consumption

Dinner with a Show

Well today was shit. Nothing seemed to go right, everyone was in your face about something and on top of that, you didn’t get lunch and you were starving. People could probably see the dark cloud hanging over your head while you walked to the bus stop after work. You kept your eyes down to avoid eye contact with anyone and stared at the cracked pavement beneath your feet. You tried not to let things like that get to you but when one thing after another jabs you in the side all day, you start to break down.

Too tired to watch where you were going, you walked straight into a ‘road work’ sign, tripping over your own feet until you fell hard onto the sidewalk. You quickly stood and rubbed your sore knee, fighting the tears that gathered under your eyelids and trying to ignore people’s stares around you. You just had to get home and forget this day ever happened.

At first you wanted to be alone, just crawl under your covers and shut out the world outside. But you wished J was with you. Getting involved with the Joker certainly wasn’t something you could have seen coming but what started with you becoming a hostage when you went to deposit your paycheck at the bank, has turned into the strangest relationship you’ve ever been in. J knows what makes you cry, what makes you laugh, what brings you joy. You’d think he’d use this to his advantage and he does, but only to make you happy. Your smile seems to be the only one he takes pleasure in seeing.

You felt warm just thinking about him being near you and you pulled out your phone to type a message. You closed your eyes and sighed as you sat at the bus stop, hoping you’d hear back. The bus arrived as the street lights flickered on above you and when you got to your seat, the phone buzzed in your hand and you took a breath before looking at the screen to see a message from an unknown number.

‘half hour. your place.’

Your heart fluttered and a little smile pulled at your cheeks for the first time all day. The ride home was already easier just knowing he was coming to see you. You certainly can’t go on a typical date but he always seemed to find a way to put his own spin on a night out. You didn’t really know what you wanted but you just wanted him with you.

It didn’t take long after changing your clothes and freshening up for your phone to ring.

“Hey, doll.”

Your eyes lit up at the sound of his voice and you answered, “Hey, J.”

“Come downstairs, the usual spot.” he said before hanging up.

You quickly slid your shoes on and locked up before heading down the hall to the stairs at the back of the apartment building. Housing in Gotham proper was often a gamble on what you’d have to deal with. Whether it was rats, leaky pipes, or paper thin walls, it was always something. But you were lucky enough to find a place that just had creaky floors and as a bonus, a secluded lot behind it where J could pick you up. The back door of the familiar black car opened and you climbed in to be met with J’s lips crashing into yours while he pulled you close.

You melted into his touch as he held your face before gently breaking the kiss, your eyes still closed. “Rough day, doll face?”

Your eyes opened to meet his dark-rimmed gaze and you sighed, nodding your head. “Its getting better now, though,” you answered.

He chuckled and tucked a stray hair behind your ear before replying with a smirk, “Well I may have thought of something to, ah, cheer you up.”

You couldn’t help the big smile that grew on your face. You hoped he would say that. “Really?”

“Mmhm. Ya hungry?”

“Starving.”

He chuckled louder and said, “Let’s fix that, hm?”

The car pulled away down the street while the last of daylight disappeared behind the towering buildings. Your muscles finally began to relax as you leaned against J in the back seat. He hummed and put his hand on your thigh. Even through his glove it felt warm. When the car stopped you noticed it had pulled up in front of your favorite Italian restaurant. Your heart sank a little because you knew they weren’t open on Mondays and you tried to tell J but he’d already gotten out of the car.

When you closed your door you noticed him walking toward the alley on the side of the building, looking at you with a smirk before beckoning you to join him. You followed down the alley to see him knelt in front of the side door with a pick in the lock.

“Now I know your favorite place is closed on Monday, which just so happens to be ah to-day, but I still want ya to have a nice dinner.”

Before you could respond, he had the door open and disappeared inside.

“J! What d’you mean?” you called out as you tried to catch up to him, his purple coat swishing through the door at the back of the dining room.

Once you pushed the swinging metal door open, you saw him with his coat and gloves off and his sleeves rolled up. He started clanging pots and pans around underneath the stainless steel countertop and you giggled. “So you’re cooking for me?”

He grinned at you with a delighted look in his eyes and said, “I’m a man of many, uh, talents, princess,” before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Your heart did a little flip as you grinned back, unable to hold back a little squeal of excitement. “Well I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show then.”

You looked around and spotted a stool by the door then pulled it up the the countertop to sit down and rest your chin in your hands, propped up on your elbows. He chuckled through his nose and set a large pot on the counter before sauntering over to the fridge. Opening the door to lean his head inside, he started humming to himself while he nonchalantly tossed various items over his shoulder in search of what he needed. You couldn’t help but laugh as vegetables, eggs, and containers of various sauces hit the floor behind him while he paid no attention to the mess he was making. He finally emerged from the fridge with his arms loaded up with ingredients.

Your stomach started to growl so loud he could probably hear it. “So what are you making?”

“Welll, what is it that you always get?” he asked in return.

“Chicken alfredo,” you answered without having to think about it, the order already at the front of your mind.

He clicked his tongue and winked, letting the items in his arms tumble onto the counter while you smiled at him. You were so excited to eat your favorite dish, and not to mention curious about whether he could actually cook.

J ignited the burner on the giant stove and poured oil in a pan that he put over the flame. The fact that J had it in him to produce a controlled fire and not let it grow out of control was already a surprise to you. He made you laugh as he made a big show of dropping chicken to cook in the oil and flinging spices on it, making an absolute mess. For his next trick, he threw butter and garlic in another pan then added heavy cream to make the sauce, pouring the cream from as high up as he could reach so that it splashed everywhere. While that simmered, he reached for the handle of an impressively large kitchen knife. You found yourself holding your breath when he started spinning it around, doing tricks and tossing it in the air to twirl around and catch it before swiftly cutting up the cooked chicken as you sighed with relief, making him chuckle. Then he stuck his finger in the boiling hot sauce before putting it in his mouth to taste it.

“J!” you exclaimed.

He shrugged with a smile, clearly unfazed by the burning hot liquid, and concluded that it was to his liking before grabbing a huge handful of prepared fettuccine pasta from a container. He slapped it into the sauce with a splash, laughing when he saw you got some on your face. Letting it all simmer together for a minute or two, he grabbed two plates and started searching the kitchen for something.

Just when you were going at ask what he was doing, he shouted, “Ah!” before coming back to the counter with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He smirked at the huge grin on your face while peeling the foil from the top then aimed the bottle and popped the cork off, sending it whizzing through the air to hit a light switch, lowering the light in the room. You giggled and looked at him with your eyes sparkling like the champagne. A smug smile on his face as he could see you were clearly impressed, he tipped the bottle of bubbly to take a swig before pouring it in the glasses.

You sipped from your glass and next thing you knew, a big plate of alfredo-dressed fettuccine topped with delicious smelling chicken was placed in front of you. You looked up from the plate with a smile to meet his gaze with yours, heavy-lidded and full of admiration. He returned it and held his glass up for you to tap yours against it with a clink before you both dug in to the best chicken alfredo you’d ever had.

“You know this means you’re gonna have to start cooking for me all the time now, right?” you said while J drained the last of the champange down his throat, both of your bellies full.

He snorted and replied, “Mmm is that so?”

He laughed when you nodded with a satisfied expression then approached you with a sly grin, turning your stool to face him before putting his hands on your thighs and leaning in to kiss you. Your eyes closed while you savored it, the warmth and tenderness of it adding to the sleepiness that was making your eyelids heavy. After helping you down from your perch, he reached for his coat then wrapped it around your shoulders as you both headed for the door to go home. Before leaving the kitchen, he stopped in front of the dessert case and opened it to grab a huge chocolate cake while you giggled.

You fell asleep with your head on J’s shoulder in the back of the car, your hunger more than satisfied and your mind finally at ease.

[prince-claremont-diaz]

Whatever We Become

Summary: In Lucas’ final year of high school before he has to face the real world, he comes across the new identical twins, Eliott and Leo. Needless to say, Lucas falls head over heels for both of them. 

Or The twin au absolutely no one asked for

Word count: 2.8k

Ao3 version

Chapter Eighteen: Give him time

With a shuddering breath, Lucas plucked his phone from the floor. It thankfully only had a small crack in one of the corners. He turned to his mum, lip wobbling. "Mum?"

She smiled knowingly. "It's the boy, isn't it?" Lucas nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Lucas stood up on unstable legs, pulling out his wallet. He tossed in a handful of euros, bending down to give his mother a quick, tight hug. "Happy birthday. I promise I'll make it up to you again. Soon."

And then he was scuttling out of the restaurant, bounding down the street, feet hitting the pavement only barely as he practically flew through the streets. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, arms pumping by his sides, a whole drum set beating against his chest cavity, chest heaving. He pushed past multiple people, just barely dodging an oncoming car as he sprinted across the street, only looking back for a split second out of instinct.

Lucas sprinted the entire way through the endless side streets, panting, bounding past familiar and unfamiliar streets alike.

Finally, after sprinting for a completely undetermined time, Lucas stumbled to a stop, back in the familiar courtyard. He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, turning on his flashlight and pointing it around the dark area. "E-Eliott? Eliott?" he called, looking around frantically, tripping over his feet in the dark and shining the white light into all the windows and into all the corners. Nothing. He was too late.

Eliott was nowhere to be found.

Lucas bit his lip, teeth chattering and turned his phone screen on again. He read over the messages Eliott had last sent once again, tears beading in his eyes at the heavy implications of Eliott's messages. Lucas' knees buckled and he landed on the cold and slightly damp concrete, a sob escaping his lips. Eliott was gone and Lucas was alone.

As the sobs wracked his whole body, forcing him to lean against a wall of one of the grimey buildings, Lucas pulled up his contacts, scrolling frantically. His fingers trembled violently, almost dropping the phone as he clicked on the contact he needed. As he waited for the phone to stop ringing, Lucas stumbled to his feet. Finally, after only 4 long rings, Yann's voice came over the phone.

"Lucas? Is everything okay? I thought you were with your mum." Yann asked, voice laced with worry. Lucas never called unless he was desperate.

"Yann?" he sobbed into the phone, gripping tight and taking a few wayward steps forwards.

"Lucas? What happened? Are you okay?" Yann blurted, voice raising a pitch or two.

Lucas shook his head, wandering aimlessly out of the courtyard and making his way down the street with heavy, thudding footsteps. "It's Eliott. He's gone." Lucas hiccoughed, turning down a street he didn't recognise at all.

"Gone? What do you mean? Lucas you aren't making any sense," Yann said. His voice softened. "You have to breathe, Lucas or you're going to pass out."

Lucas gulped down a bucketload of air, though it did little to help. "Leo messaged me saying he couldn't f-find him and then Eliott messaged me and—" He interrupted himself with another wailing, echoing sob. "It sounded like a goodbye."

Lucas continued fumbling his way down the street, sobbing into the phone and earning odd looks from passersby. "Like a proper one? A goodbye goodbye?" Yann clarified, his own voice beginning to turn slightly shaky as he took in Lucas' barely coherent words.

"Yes. Fuck, Yann."

He scrubbed his hand over his face, making his way onto a larger main street. He could see a large foot bridge spanning across the great black water, which had another pathway underneath it. Lucas made his way over on jelly legs, tears still streaking his face and wetting his shirt.

"Do you need me to come and get you?" Yann asked on instinct, steadying his voice with a thick clear of his throat. It was much more hoarse than before, however.

Lucas sniffled, clambering down the steps like a drunk man. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't know where I am," he babbled, leaning against the stone wall for support, grappling for air though he couldn't reach it far enough.

Under the bridge, which was relatively high above the water, Lucas caught sight of a tall figure standing, looking down at the water. They were mostly cast into darkness, shrouded from view, a vague silhouette of a person. It was a vast contrast to the bright glow of the city which was blinding Lucas in his panicked state.

"Lucas? You there? Are you okay?" Yann's voice came over the line again, startling Lucas back into reality.

"One second. I'm-I'm gonna call you back." Lucas hung up the phone and turned his phone's flashlight on again. He walked over on uneven, frantic steps as he made his way towards the small tunnel formed by the bridge. The greyish water lapped up the sides of the bank, tiny droplets splashing upwards onto the pavement. "Eliott? Eliott, is that you?" he asked tentatively, shining the light towards the figure.

The other person gasped, falling to the ground while their hands continued to grip onto the handrail for dear life. "Eliott?" Lucas repeated, taking another step forwards, lighting the other properly the closer he got.

Eliott was on his haunches, fingers pale with the grip on the metal, tears soaking his face and shaking his head back and forth. "I can't. I can't. I can't," he kept on saying, voice broken and raw.

Lucas dropped onto the ground once again, leaving no space between them as he pulled Eliott into his arms. Eliott fell away, letting go of the bar and shuddering. He shook his head again, looking away from him with tears in his eyes. "Hey. Hey, look at me," Lucas whispered, tilting Eliott's chin up and leaning their heads together, "You're not alone, okay? You're not. And you are enough. You've always been enough." Lucas cupped Eliott's cheeks with his hands, staring into his deep swimming pool eyes and losing himself a little inside of their intense depth. "I'm here. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Another sob from Eliott and then he was gripping onto Lucas' jacket, face buried into his collar, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Lucas rubbed his hand up and down Eliott's back, holding onto him like a life raft. "Shh, I'm here, Eliott. I'm here. I'll always be here."

◇

Eliott ended up staying the night at the flatshare after Yann came and picked them both up. He stayed mostly silent as they sat in Yann's back seat, clutching onto Lucas and leaning all of his weight on him. Yann didn't ask any questions, just glancing in the rearview mirror every so often and hugging Lucas out the window when he dropped them off outside the flat.

Now, on Sunday morning, Eliott was still there. He was fast asleep as usual, curled up in a ball under Lucas' duvet and dressed in a pair of Lucas' hoodies and t-shirts. Lucas was sitting up in bed beside him, half on his phone, half watching Eliott. Mostly watching Eliott. Lucas read over his latest texts with Leo then, trying to fill the time before Eliott woke up that afternoon.

Me: I've got him now. He's at my flatshare, is that okay?

Leo: is he okay?

Leo: my parents said it's okay for him to stay with you if that's what he needs rn

Me:He's asleep now, but that's all I can get from him

Leo: that's the usual. keep me updated

Underneath the covers, Eliott began to stir finally, stretching his arms out in front of him and rolling over, hands searching for Lucas. Lucas put his phone down on the bed beside him and scooted down a bit to allow Eliott to use him as a teddy bear, resting his head on Lucas' chest and gripping onto his hoodie. Lucas smiled, fingers combing through his tangled brown hair slowly. He was oddly content sitting there curled up with Eliott in his arms, despite the constant thrum at the back of his mind about Eliott's wellbeing. As long as Eliott was with him, he knew he was safe.

◇

The wind whipped through the streets of Paris, a chill spreading as autumn turned to winter, leaves fluttering from the trees and landing dead. A bus was pulling from its stop, grey fuel filtering out of the exhaust pipe. Lucas was standing on the edge of the pavement, hands in his pockets, watching, waiting.

"Lucas!" He turned towards the voice, smiling when he made eye contact with Leo as he crossed the road. They hugged briefly in greeting and then Leo stepped away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Shall we head to a cafe or something?" he asked, gesturing down the street. Lucas bobbed his head, following him. "How is he?" he asked, glancing around, a slight nervous energy radiating off him as they walked together past shops and restaurants.

"He's still really only sleeping and only eats a little bit," he said, "But I don't really know how he's feeling now. He isn't talking much and I don't want to scare him away." They turned into a small cafe at the corner, sitting down across from each other under the blue umbrella.

Leo frowned, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "That's normal. After he has an episode he's usually pretty tired for a few days. Just, you know, give him time," Leo explained, shrugging. A waiter came over carrying a notepad and the two boys paused their conversation to order coffees. "Are you going to school tomorrow? You should," Leo asked once the waiter had left.

Lucas shrugged, fidgeting with the silver sugar tongs on the plate between them. "I dunno. I don't want Eliott to be left all by himself while we're all out at work or school." Leo gave him a look, raising an eyebrow. "It's not that I don't trust him. I just don't want him to get lonely or something," Lucas added, flushing under Leo's look.

Leo shook his head and replied, "He's not a child Lucas. He can take care of himself. I'm sure he'll survive a day by himself." He paused, watching a lady walking past with a toddler and a small pomeranian. "God knows he's used to being alone all the time…" he muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean? Alone all the time?"

"Not exactly alone, really. Our mum has been ill on and off for years and usually stays at the hospital and our dad always worked late, so that's why we pretty much live alone now," Leo explained. He paused as the waiter placed their drinks and cake on the table, muttering his thanks. "He's been lonely for a long time, I think. He lost touch with friends recently and he's struggled with making friends since his diagnosis. Everyone found out at school and it wasn't very fun for him."

"That just makes me want to leave him alone even less," Lucas said hopelessly, fingers skimming through his hair.

"I'm not an expert, but right now I think he just needs support. Whether that's from a distance or not is up to him, really," Leo said. He took a sip of his drink, wincing and adding a couple sugars to his coffee using the tongs, swirling the beige liquid with a teaspoon. "But be prepared to… deal with some shit. Sometimes he snaps at you or pushes you away, but don't let yourself think he doesn't like you. Because he does. He never fucking shuts up about just how much." He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Lucas leaned back in his chair, taking a gulp of his latte and briefly taking a look at their surroundings. Despite the cold, it really was a nice day, birds chirping and the sun low in the sky and washing the city in a pleasant glow. "Thanks for meeting me today, by the way. It's helped a lot," Lucas admitted, putting the coffee cup down on its plate. "I've researched all about bipolar disorder almost constantly the last few days, but I still had no idea how to help him or be there for him. So thanks."

Leo shrugged, holding his hand up for a fist bump over the table. Lucas obliged, rolling his eyes and smirking. "No problem, man," he said, dropping his hand in his lap. His smirk fell from his face however and he glanced down at his plate. "I should probably apologise about the other day, as well. For shouting at you and then ditching you in the middle of the city at night. That was pretty shit of me to do."

Lucas shook his head, touching Leo's wrist momentarily. "It's okay. I get that you were just stressed about Eliott," he reassured, eyes softening.

Leo sat up straight, huffing. "But that doesn't give me an excuse for how I reacted. You had absolutely no idea what was going on and you weren't to know about what to do or not do if Eliott hadn't told you yet," he said, speaking rapidly, "Yeah, I was scared because that was a pretty bad episode in a long time, but you looked even more terrified with the situation. I shouldn't have been so harsh." Leo placed his hand on top of Lucas' and sent him a half smile. "So, I'm sorry once again."

They sat in silence for a little while after that, drinking their coffee and watching the world go by. It was pleasant again with Leo. Lucas had almost forgotten about how comfortable he could be around Leo. But something still nagged at the back of his mind, a whisper that grew louder and louder until it was almost screaming in his head.

"You said your mum has been sick on and off for years. What did you mean by that?" Lucas asked slowly, tentatively, voice low and hesitant. He sipped his drink, looking up curiously over the rim of the cup.

Leo scratched the back of his head and drummed his fingers on the table, nervous. "Ever since I can remember, our mum has always been pretty unhealthy and weak. She often ends up in hospitals long term for treatments pretty frequently," he explained, frown deepening with every word, "She was doing okay for a good while recently, but she fell ill a couple weeks ago and had to be sent to emergency care in the middle of the night. I think Eliott was staying at yours that night, actually." Now that he thought about it, Lucas could remember how Eliott had gone, stating that Leo had called him to come home for a family emergency. His gut twisted horribly as he remembered the slight bitterness he had felt when Eliott left him, now seeing as it was because his mother was sick.

"Eliott never took it well, our mum getting sick. He tells people she works a lot like our dad, but she's just usually too sick to leave hospital or hospice," Leo added, almost choking on his hot coffee as he remembered the extra detail. "It's a complicated situation to say the least."

Leo's phone chimed in his coat pocket then, a light, tinkling sound and he pulled it out to look at his message. His eyebrows furrowed with focus as he read over the message and then he slid it back inside his pocket, finishing off the last few mouthfuls of his coffee in one large gulp. Lucas squinted his eyes and tilted his head as Leo proceeded to get up from his seat, wiping his mouth on his napkin.

"That's my cue to leave, unfortunately. But it was good to see you," Leo said, pushing his chair under the table. He pulled out a few euro coins from his wallet and plopped them onto the table.

Lucas grabbed his wrist to keep him from going. "You're sure it's okay for Eliott to keep staying with me?"

"I think it's better for him right now. He feels safest with you, clearly, so yeah." Lucas nodded, dropping Leo's wrist. "See you at school tomorrow?" he added, raising his eyebrows.

Lucas nodded, smiling. "Probably. See you later." He watched Leo crossing the street again, waving over his shoulder and walking back in the direction he had originally come from earlier. Lucas continued to sip his coffee and eat his cake for a few minutes before going inside with the cash to pay for their food and grab a croissant to go.

With the birds singing their light tunes and the lightest of breezes on his skin, Lucas wandered his way back to the flat, happier than he'd been in a while.

[sudsybear]

Identity Crisis

Does anybody know who I am?

 Half the UofR population was from South of Albany - Yonkers, Westchester, Manhattan, Long Island, Bronx. The whole world was on their islands (Chinatown, Little Italy, “The Village”, Wall Street, United Nations) including American popular culture (Letterman, Saturday Night Live, Broadway, Times Square). They had no need to know what lay west of the Hudson River. Their apathy toward geography was most disconcerting, and I had a huge complex about it.

 For me, geography is a part of identity. Regional accents, regional foods, regional past-times all contribute to who you are as a person. Those who grow up transiently, living in one part of the world for a year, then moving on, learn to appreciate those regionalisms, and their very transience becomes part of their identity. “Worldians” my brother calls them, those who, for whatever reasons, moved frequently during their formative years. Part of getting to know another person includes learning their geography. I felt no one cared about my geography, and so didn’t care about me.

 My parents were both born and raised in West Virginia. My childhood holidays were spent riding along old Route 52 along the Ohio River from Cincinnati to Charleston. As a pre-schooler my family lived for a time in Caracas, Venezuela. The summer of 1982, between my freshman and sophomore years of high school, I bought a plane ticket to London. For over a year I saved babysitting money, gift money, “found monies” and put them in my passbook savings account. My brother Jack lived in Berlin for a time, and I had it in my head that I needed to see Europe. I bought a plane ticket and a railway pass. My parents arranged for Jack to pick me up in London, and he and I "did" Europe, in a way. He was producing/directing a play as part of the Fringe Festival in Edinborough, so off we went. We rode the train from London, and spent several days in Edinborough. Jack dropped me off at a tourist site, left to take care of business, then hours later returned to pick me up. We did this sort of thing in Edinborough, London, again in Paris, then on to Strasbourg, and to Jack’s girlfriend’s family’s cottage in West Germany and finally on to Berlin (years before the wall fell).

 I had also been a part of numerous (too numerous!) road trips with my folks across the U.S. As a pre-teen, I rode down the West Virginia turnpike in the backseat of various automobiles to deliver Jack to Wake Forest University in North Carolina. We crossed Paint Creek no fewer than eleven times each trek. As a teenager, I rode trains from Chicago to Denver, Denver to Salt Lake, Salt Lake to Portland, OR. I rode in the back of a car on both the east and west side of the Cascade Mountains. I visited the lava fields of what is now Newberry National Volcanic Monument, saw Crater Lake before the snow melted for the summer, and attended plays at the Ashland Shakespeare Festival. I rode the train from LA to Seattle, passing by the devastation of the eruption of Mount Saint Helens, and rode in the back of a car from Salem, OR back east through Idaho, to Yellowstone, then on to Mount Rushmore and through the Badlands. Mom drove right by Wall Drug without stopping, but Dad refused to miss the Corn Palace in Mitchell, SD.

 The summer before my sixteenth birthday, Dad flew to Toronto for work, and Mom and I drove up via Niagara Falls. We spent a couple of days at the company apartment in Toronto, and then took the train to Moncton, New Brunswick. In New Brunswick, we stayed at the Tidal Bore Inn and I witnessed the creek reverse its flow as the tidal bore rolled in from the Bay of Fundy. From there we rode the ferry to Prince Edward Island. During my Junior year of high school I spent a long weekend with friends in Chicago. Then in my Senior year I rode on a Greyhound bus from Cincinnati to Chicago and back. All the time I was growing up, my father traveled extensively for his job. When he was home, we pulled out the map, atlas, or almanac as the dinner table discussion required. I know my geography. But I had NEVER been to Boston or New York City.

 I was so frustrated with this prevalent attitude, this oblivion toward anything west of the Hudson, that I was moved to try to educate my ignorant peers. I wanted someone to care about my geography, and hence, about me.

 Ken was from Gallup, New Mexico. Like many of us on the floor, he went as far away from home as he could manage. He was from a close-knit family, his parents were traditional to the core, and Ken battled his budding homosexuality all through adolescence. He was anxious to get away and become himself. He needed distance in order to blossom. We laughed a lot together. We were both homesick, both asserting independence. He struggled to establish himself with the campus gay community - a real challenge in the mid-80s. Proverbial closet doors were still firmly shut, and HIV/AIDS was a nasty “gay disease” in the U.S. He and I laughed together about dating and how he would find someone without looking like a total moron. What does a gay person look like, anyway? He was also enthusiastic about the local queen scene, and got the girls on the floor to dress him up for Drag Queen nights at one of the local bars. Also like me, he was annoyed at the attitude of the students from New York. So, he willingly went along with my scheme.

 A system of underground tunnels connects the campus buildings. During inclement weather, this was truly a blessing. One particular tunnel was given over to graffiti. Mostly, the fraternities and sororities painted it to advertise a particular Greek house, or party, or some other social function. But there were few rules and the tunnel was there to be painted by whoever wanted to paint. Enlisting Ken’s help, along with some other friends, I acquired the necessary paint, and painted a map of the United States. It was large – very large – we found a ladder, set it up and climbed up to spray the outline of Maine up near the top of the fifteen foot high wall. Then outlined the coastline south to Florida, brought the St. Lawrence Seaway West into the mitt of Michigan, adding in the Great Lakes. We highlighted the Mississippi from Louisiana on up north, and finally on the West Coast, drew the line from Puget Sound to LA. I noted landmarks as best I could – and included what states I could reasonably reproduce; Washington, Oregon, Idaho, California, Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada. Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Maine. I put a large asterisk at the appropriate bump in my rendition of the Ohio River and sprayed, “Cincinnati, it is a place” across the Midwest. I signed the work with a smiley face and “Allny, Allny, Allny” as an homage to my identity with Ross.

 Amazingly, that mural stayed up for a couple of weeks before some fraternity finally obliterated it. When walking through that tunnel, I overheard students questioning it, wondering why it had appeared. Asking, “What’s ALL NEW YORK?” I wanted to scream at them, “It’s NOT FUCKING NEW YORK YOU SELF-CENTERED BIGOTS! IT’S ALLNY, WITH YOUR TONGUE BETWEEN YOUR MOLARS.” But realized any attempt would be futile, and I’d only alienate myself even more. But, if any students were intrigued enough by my efforts to look beyond the Hudson River, I accomplished something. I find it appropriate that the closest friends I kept since leaving college were NOT from New York City. Instead, they hail from such diverse locales as Albany, Syracuse, Maryland, Eastern Pennsylvania, Eastern Oregon, South Central Massachusetts, even a Worldian, but only one native New Yorker.

 Irony of ironies, David fell in love with New York City. He spent a summer as a bike messenger in Manhattan, and later lived there for several years pursuing a career in video production. He was enthusiastic about life in The City, and left only reluctantly. Ken and his partner live there now, Ken never wants to live anywhere else.

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 My wisdom teeth started coming in. My gums were sore and swollen. My mouth itched like crazy. The bottom teeth erupted first, irritating my gums even more. I called my dentist at home – the one who had fixed my two front teeth just over a month previous – and asked what to do. He checked my records, determined there were no problems with them, they weren’t impacted I had plenty of room for them. “But they itch like crazy!” “Gargle with hot salt water and hydrogen peroxide, and call me back if there are any problems.” So, while I was unlearning dumness, I still was constantly using my tongue to massage my gums. This led to another quote in Stephen Paul’s little black book, “My wisdom teeth came in and it itches, so I play with it.” It seemed everyone else in the dorm endured wisdom tooth impaction and pending extraction. Another rite of passage I missed. No tonsils out, no appendicitis, no braces, no broken bones, and no wisdom tooth extraction. I am still intact today. Even my twins were born without surgery.

 *          *          *

 Roadway construction continued; I couldn’t get over it. One crew finished the piping and wiring and such while other crews worked to replace the curbstones. I was fascinated. First shovels excavated the soil to the side of the new roadway, and then specialty cranes lowered the curbs into place. Using small loaders, the men wrestled the stones to level. I saw one crack, but they salvaged it using some sort of bonding agent.

 After the curbs were set, HUGE dump trucks brought in load after load of gravel to fill in the roadway. Loaders moved the piles around, spreading the gravel as level as possible. Rollers, brought in on flatbeds, ironed the rocks flat smoothing the surface to the necessary grade.