#shortstory fiction beatgeneration irriverent

[ilcodicedavinci]

The Invisible Knight

Today is one of those days where the light coming from outside is strangely too strong for sleepy eyes and the coffee tastes like shit. The chitty-chatty of my flatmates is so lively that I can barely think of something. They can be sometimes so lavish and sore at the same time, driving me crazy like a bull.  Example? "Have you seen Kat downstairs? She is G-R-A-N-D. I would have never thought of combining the colour of the nails and the lips." I mean, they can get excited for bullshit like this and they probably expect from me the same reaction. So I just smiled to this grand declaration and, for Chrissake, they are now back to their room and I can finally enjoy the black tasteless coffee in front of me. I'm getting so depressed in this moment though. You know, stuff like this can really put you down and it seems like nothing really interesting can come up to your mind again. Like never again in your damn life. Oh gosh, sometimes I can be so fatalist. I really mean it. Like, I have this huge problem when I meet someone. I have that horrible pretentious attitude that people can't get through their life without my presence after they've met me. Isn't it so fatalist and dramatic? I'm the queen of drama, or simply a dickhead. But after all I think people really love me, or at least most of the time. And I definitely love them too! For example, there is this guy I met one week ago. He literaly loves me with all his heart. I was in my favourite bar, dressed up fancy and careless at the same time. I was in the mode: look at me but don't get close. What a dickhead I am. I could feel those hungry eyes on me. I was enjoying it like a crazy chick. You know, everything was going prefectly fine. I reached the ideal tipsy state and I was not anymore listening to the typical philosophical conversations of my lovely flatmates. I was on the point of starting flirting with the bartender just for the fun of doing it when a guy sat next to me saying nothing. I new he was mustering the courage to talk to me, but I've preceded him: " I know whatcha tryin'a do, boy." Such a stupid thing to say, I've realized it while I was saying it. But he seemed so released by that, that the only thing he could do was smiling. A really bright and mischievous smile, though. The bastard, he knew perfeclty what a smile of that kind would have caused on me. I'm pretty sure about that even now. Anyway, I stared at him with this really terrific and still glance for an everlasting couple of minutes. I could not put my thoughts in a logical order. First because of that smile I told you about. I mean, I really know myself. Guys, especially when they are so innocent and nasty at the same time, drives me crazy. I can't help it. My chest was bursting into hells' flames. Drama queen, again.   Second, I could not concentrate because of the noise of this bunch of drunk people screaming as wild monkeys. In that moment I could distinctly feel what my mum would have thought about pubs I use to hang out. My lovely mum used to say many things about young folks like me. But, of course, when she had to talk about me she was even too honest. I still remember the day when I stared at a cake on the kitchen's table for hours. I mean.. it was a really nice one, with a nice smell too and I was not particulary hungry. So I've just stayed there, sitting on the chair, staring at the cake thinking about anything and nothing when suddenly her voice broke the prefect silence: "You are a waste of time." That particular time hurted me a lot. Somehow since that moment my mum thought that the wall of politeness between us fell and she kept repeating that statement 'til the very last second of my departure. I got so used to listen to it that I've started thinking that "waste of time" was no long a deplorable thing to say to someone. I mean, if I were a waste of time, I was a really wonderful one. But anyway, could you believe that after those couple of minutes I was literaly eating that guy with passionate kisses? It was definitely a firestorm for both of us. A thunder that explodes in the middle of the night and other of these poetic and common images. He loved me and sure he still loves me. I remember what he kept repeating during the night: "Oh Reb, I wanna see ya again. Oh gal! you drive me crazy". And the way he said it was so convincing that I was having the same feeling. I mean.. I really wanted to see him again. So we tried to figure out how, where, when we could have seen again. You know, in a  different place with a different atmosphere in order to know each other better, as if we had the feeling that there was an hypothetical "better" to know. I have to admit though that sometimes I was getting a little bit of that typical depression that catches me easly, but he was still saying the magical revitalizing words "wanna see ya, gal. I mean it, I wanna see ya". To make things easier to him, because girls we all know that boys sometimes can be really slow at doing stuff, I gave him my number and I was getting  ready to head back home when suddenly he decided to say some more words: "Ya know, I've gotta do some stuff in this period, don't wanna waste lots of time. But we'll see soon, gal."

He killed me. That sonuvabitch.