XXXIV. The Journal - November 29, 2006
I remember my fourth birthday vividly. My grandparents, on my mother's side, gave me my first bicycle. My grandfather privately gave me a plastic rifle that shot rubber pellets. It came with a set of plastic animals for me to shoot. My mom and dad gave me a set of Lincoln Logs. Lincoln Logs are a collection of wooden and plastic pieces that can be put together to make buildings - mainly log cabins. That was my favorite gift.
My mother gave them to me as soon as I awoke that morning. I went into my parents' bedroom to get my dad up to help me build something. He yelled at me to leave him alone. I've always been thankful to him for teaching me at such a young age never to rely on anyone but myself.
I took my can of Lincoln Logs into the living room and dumped it out onto the floor. I sat on the cold hardwood, snapping logs together while surrounded by plastic animals and rubber pellets that would be forever lost. As I was figuring out how to construct my first log cabin, I was unaware that the most beautiful girl I would ever meet was being born somewhere in Kentucky.
Twenty one years later, Tracy and I exchanged gifts in the living room of her apartment. My gift to Tracy was a crystal butterfly and a card I made for her. The card was half-inspired by the pixies, who spent countless days obsessively creating psychotic collages. I began with a piece of green construction paper, as that was Tracy's favorite color. I folded it in half and on the front I wrote, "I thought I would never meet a girl who was kind and artistic and smart and strong and beautiful, until I saw this... (open)" On the inside, I pasted a piece of thin, reflective material so that when she opened the card, she would see her reflection. The card was a big hit.
Tracy gave me a thin, rectangular gift wrapped in blue paper, as that was my favorite color. It had to be a book, but I couldn't even begin to guess which one it might be. I opened the package and found a journal with M. C. Escher's "Belvedere" print on the cover. She knew me so well. I hopped up off the couch and hugged her, grinning, and went and grabbed a pen from the kitchen. I shoved the journal at Tracy, "Here, sign it!"
"What?"
"Autograph the inside cover!"
"God, I'm not going to sign it," she laughed.
"Come on, Tracy."
She grabbed the journal from me and signed her name, "God, you are such a freak!"
Tracy and I celebrated a bit before I had to prepare myself for work. I went home and put the journal away in my bookshelf. I couldn't bring myself to defile it with my meaningless scribbling. I had moved back in with my mother after leaving the pixie pad. It was a good forty five minute drive between there and Tracy's. The gas station sat almost exactly halfway between the two. I spent some time in my room just lying around until I had to leave for work. My mind wandered across a vast landscape of dreams as I drove to work - my past with Tracy, our future, what I would do about finding a better job, whether a perfect replica of a person's brain would result in a shared consciousness. I was so immersed in my subconscious, I didn't notice the temperature warning on the dashboard.
Things at the station had changed significantly. The era of the pixie was over, but there were some battle scars. Aaron had left for Arizona to study motorcycle mechanics. He was replaced by Pedro, which wasn't his real name. Pedro was the man who had impregnated - and later married - Ted's daughter, much to Daryl and Daryl's dismay.
Dustin worked about two more weeks at the station after I moved out. He quit one day without notice and headed south where his mother lived. His new home was, coincidentally, a booming pixie town.
The pixie infestation had run off at least fifty percent of our customers. Toad was left with a bad habit. He continued to run up thousands of dollars in charges to support his pixie obsession. Every day I would come in to work and find Toad in the back room, holding his flaming butane torch up to a pipe. His eyes would be eerily lit by the torch and his cheeks were sunken as he sucked obscenely on his glass dick.
I would sit on the safe and watch him, covertly, with his own words echoing through my head, "Moderation is the key."
Dustin was replaced by Poopie. My first encounter with Poopie was when he was a twelve-year-old kid. He would ride his bicycle to the station to buy cigarettes, since we'd sell them to anyone with money. Toad's paranoia put an end to that and it pretty much got to the point where we only sold cigarettes to ourselves. Though, we'd have a few especially lazy customers that would have us go inside and get them cigarettes and soda.
Poopie treated almost everyone equally bad. Usually, I'd shake my head, "Dude, he would have given you a tip if you hadn't been such an asshole. That guy always tips."
"Fuck him!" was his usual response.
Poopie fancied himself a true goth - not one of those "poseur" goths that listened to Nine Inch Nails or Type O Negative. But even if you liked or knew who Dead Can Dance or Danzig were, you could still be in danger of being placed on Poopie's shit-list. After several months, I finally worked out the complex hierarchy of his subculture ranking system. It basically boiled down to: "If you don't like Marilyn Manson, you suck." This was before Marilyn Manson became somewhat well known, at which point Poopie decided he was a sellout and moved on to some other band.
Poopie was loud and obnoxious. He was about 5'6" and 210 pounds, pale and covered with moles. His natural hair color was brown, but he dyed it blue and then green. He wore jeans, a Misfits or Marilyn Manson shirt and black boots. He had a wallet attached to his belt loop with a chain.
It wasn't long before I gave him the nickname that everyone (including some customers) called him from then on. Poopie was obscenely obsessed with his own bowel movements. It almost seemed like a control issue with him. He would constantly eat Immodium AD because of his fear of defecating in a public place. He told me that once he got home, he would eat Ex-Lax so he could finally relieve himself. It seemed anything he ate would send his stomach into spastic fits, but especially pizza; he claimed it was because he was lactose intolerant.
If only he had known. Telling me that was like handing a terrorist a nuclear bomb and a free boat ride to New York City. Every single night it was the same:
"I'm hungry," I would grin.
"Yeah, me too."
"Let's call Pizza Shoppe."
"I CAN'T!"
"Fuck it, Poopie. Let's call them!"
"I know what you mean when you say that. 'It' is me... I'm 'it'... you're saying 'fuck me'..." he pointed to himself.
I laughed, not denying the accusation, "Come on, dude, we gotta eat."
"Oh, fine!"
And so, every night he would give in. I would happily go and pick up the pizza, sometimes one for each of us, and bring it back to the station. It wouldn't be long afterward that Poopie's stomach would be causing him no end of hell. Eventually, he wouldn't be able to take it one moment longer and he would run into the women's restroom yelling in a loud falsetto, "Poop! Poop! Poop!"
I made it to work and sat on the safe, completely detached from my surroundings. I'd given in to the fact that the gas station was just going to be filled with insanity no matter who worked there.
And what does that say about me?
Poopie stomped in with his black boots and sat on the window sill. He and Pedro had been having a conversation for several minutes before I started paying attention.
"How come you use the name Pedro?" Poopie asked.
"That's my gang name."
"Gang name?"
"I'm an O.G. Back in Los Angeles."
"What?!"
"An O. G. An Original Gangster."
"Oh bullshit! You don't look Italian to me. Those are the fucking original gangsters!"
"Shit."
I wished I hadn't started paying attention. Soon, there was enough of a lull in business that Toad was able to do the shift change. He and Pedro left and Poopie laughed obnoxiously, "Fucking nigger."
I looked at Poopie with disdain, "Man, I'm hungry. Let's get a pizza."
Tracy, in inebriated bliss, decided she wanted to dance - an activity which I felt should be the exclusive domain of lesser primates. After several minutes of begging, she finally gave up and dragged her brother-in-law out to the dance floor, leaving me with her sister and dad.
"So you and Tracy really love each other," Robert asked.
"Yeah," I replied, unsure that I wanted to have that particular conversation at that exact moment, if ever.
"You should probably start looking for a real job. You know, a career. You can't pump gas all your life."
I was right. I didn't want to have that conversation, "Yeah."
Susan lit a cigarette, "Well, I know the guy who runs the technical repair department where I work. Do you want me to talk to him about a job? You would have insurance and everything."
"Sure, that'd be cool."
That was the most exciting news I'd had in a while. Susan had taken a job at a local company that manufactured and sold computer peripherals through the mail. That could be a really nice job. Right up my alley.
As the night wore on, Tracy became drunk out of her mind. Everyone decided it would be best if we called it a night. I walked Tracy out to the Probe and put her in the passenger seat, fastening the seat belt around her slumped-over body. A stream of drool oozed out of her mouth and onto her blouse. Her family came to the car and wished us a happy birthday. Tracy replied with a slurred, "Fuck you!"
As I drove her home, I noticed the engine temperature light on the dashboard. I didn't smell anything strange from the heat vents and we were halfway to Tracy's apartment, so I ignored it.
We made it back to Tracy's in one piece. Star was asleep and I carried Tracy's limp, drooling body inside, stripped her clothes off and put her in her water bed. I filled a glass of water and put it on her nightstand. I decided not to risk overheating the car and got in bed with Tracy. As I floated to sleep on the waves of the water-filled mattress, I dreamt of what life would be like without the gas station. For the first time in what seemed like forever, that dream began to take on solid form.
Posted by DevilMonkey at 7:37 PM
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Posted by: DM at November 29, 2006 07:52 PM
awesome entry
Posted by: J at November 29, 2006 08:20 PM
I keep thinking the car was going to explode and kill Tracy or something.
Posted by: Ben at November 29, 2006 08:31 PM
A little bit of foreshadowing?
Posted by: PRAJ at November 29, 2006 08:50 PM
Great entry! My only qualm with the stories though, is the lack of time, you never know ow long it's been since the last entry. That would be awesome, but I doubt you'd fit it in considering these stories are all pre-written, right?
Posted by: Mitch at November 29, 2006 08:53 PM
Awesome one. Tracy got trashed huh? I can't believe you told us she was drooling on herself. That's classic, plus, I loved her version of "goodbye". Sounds like things are going pretty good.
Posted by: Wayland at November 29, 2006 08:59 PM
Thanks everyone. The stories are not prewritten. they appeard in another website before but I am rewriting them quite a bit for devilmonkey.net. The audience at the last place of publishing wasn't as mature as the audience I have here, so I cut a lot of things out. The incarnation you are reading here is how I originally wanted to write them, but they wouldn't have been appreciated there and would have been nothing but ridiculed.
I like to move around in time and wish I'd stuck to the way I did it the first time I wrote these - assigning no time period to them at all. And I will return to that format for the book, if there is one. In the event these get published, which I'm skeptical of, I will be rewriting them significantly, tying up loose ends and including material I forgot. I will also be spending more time on each entry, since I've been churning these out in an average of 30 minutes apiece.
Just to clue everyone in - this is being written as a 3-part series here. This entry begins part 3. The end of this particular story is coming up fast.
Afterward, I will be starting a different one and hope it's as successful. It will be different, but I think it will be as interesting.
Posted by: DM at November 29, 2006 09:13 PM
So you're 25 in this story? Weren't you in high school just a little while ago? How did 7+ years go by so fast?
DM Reply: This entry has skipped ahead a few years. In this story, I have compressed a long period of time into a shorter time, thinking it would make it less confusing. I think that was a mistake now and it will be fixed in future versions.
Posted by: Xonny at November 29, 2006 09:42 PM
Reading these stories sometimes especially this one I always expect something bad to happen and it never does, so this has to lead to a horrible event. Great writing though, how old are you now I keep trying to figure out
dm reply: 38
Posted by: Larry at November 29, 2006 10:05 PM
another great one.
it saddens me to find out this is the begining of part 3, out of 3.
foreshadowing on the car overheating? you sure do beat up cars, isnt it only 4 years old at this point?
dm: well, it was a little older - tracy owned it before and her dad gave it to me after she got her jeep.
Posted by: Troen at November 29, 2006 11:07 PM
I feel like there is some kind of huge disaster coming. Do you end up getting fucked up again? I can't wait to find out.
Also nice to know are closer to my age than I thought. Amazing that you remember things so clearly -- a lot of my twenties was a delightful blur.
I waited a long time for this entry. To hear that things are coming to an end is bothersome. But the book will come! And I will be one of the first to buy it.
as always, a good entry and such a good story.
DM: This particular story is coming to an end. There will be more to follow - hopefully better. Trust me :)
Posted by: waitress13 at November 29, 2006 11:11 PM
[don't post]
sorry, it's late and I only skimmed the comments without my glasses. Not paying attention. thank you.
i always scan the story quickly and then again slowly for a long leisurely read. comments never as good as the story!
Posted by: waitress13 at November 29, 2006 11:22 PM
I smell tragedy brewing. The car was overheating, Tracy is absolutely bombed, and you're thinking about the future. Why do I have the feeling this won't end well.
If she goes out John Bonham styles or something, I will be very sad.
DM, if you make us wait this long to find out what happens, I will track you down..... Keep it up! (The quality, not the stalling haha).
Posted by: Johnny C ![[TypeKey Profile Page]](http://www.devilmonkey.net/nav-commenters.gif)
at November 29, 2006 11:47 PM
Good to see the pixies leaving your life, they're nothing but trouble. That's a serious drug that fucks people up big time.
Posted by: squirrel at November 30, 2006 01:46 AM
I would make personal attacks if I could, but I twitch too much.
DM: Johny. you're a mess. Stem cells are your only hope.
Posted by: Little Johnny Wheelchair at November 30, 2006 02:13 AM
no wonder i relate to your stories... you're the same age as me! i almost cried when you told about the presents. keep em coming DM
Posted by: brihan at November 30, 2006 05:10 AM
Dude, I'm totally stealing your birthday card idea.
DM: feel free
Posted by: Mike at November 30, 2006 06:16 AM
Great story DM. I can certainly relate to some of the stories that you have posted here. Great work, I can't get enough of your site.
I also will be borrowing the card idea. Jesus, that is fucking brilliant.
Posted by: Tuffy at November 30, 2006 08:24 AM
dm - thanks for the posts. What was the previous community, if you don't mind me asking?
Also, it's an early Ford Probe. Those things overheat like hell anyway - total pieces of shit (even if they were the coolest looking car Ford made at the time)... It's like saying "Hey DM, guess what!! The sky?? IT'S BLUE!"
Keep the posts coming - and I look forward (cringingly, since it can't end well) to the conclusion of this part.
-J
Posted by: Jeremy at November 30, 2006 09:20 AM
This are all true correct?
If that is true and this 3 part series is ending soon, are the next ones going to be personal experiences as well?
Really enjoy the writing. Keep up the good work.
Dm: Yeah, the next series is personal experience thinly disguised as fiction. Much like the current stories, but with a twist. i wil say no more about it.
p.s. i have a cat named joon
Posted by: joon at November 30, 2006 09:23 AM
Wow... just... *blinks*
I've been waiting for this post for days. When I actually saw it at work yesterday, I was excited (had to put a customer on hold).
You have a twisted "Truman Show" going on here... an amazing first-person insight into your own life. Coming from someone as analytical as you, it makes for quite a literary feat.
Anyways, thank you for sharing this with the world. It is much appreciated.
Posted by: Chizzer at November 30, 2006 12:55 PM
i too will be stealing your card idea.
Posted by: lohans_rack at November 30, 2006 12:57 PM
Good stuff DM. I'm kind of ready for this story to end, though. I'm tired of waiting for the inevitable.
I'm sure that you will get a book deal in the near future. I will be looking forward to purchasing numerous copies.
Posted by: Jon at November 30, 2006 03:44 PM
It's really interesting to hear the background of these stories and what you're doing with them, like the three part thing. I'm a writer myself, so I kinda love reading other author's thoughts and comments about their own work.
Keep up the amazing work. You've had me hooked on your stories from the beginning.
Posted by: Annalise at November 30, 2006 07:09 PM
for some reason at the end of every story i read i keep thinking something bad is going to happen. in this one i thought u were gonna end it with "and little did i know how dangerous going to sleep drunk really is, tracy died in her sleep, via chocking on her own vomit," or something. now that i re-read that i think it's pretty funny, but i still can't shake the feeling of something bad coming up.
anyway, great post.. wish you would stick to your old update schedule.
Posted by: nikita at November 30, 2006 10:26 PM
"Oh bullshit! You don't look Italian to me. Those are the fucking original gangsters!" - Couldn't agree more, keep the stories coming.
Posted by: Obey the Brain at November 30, 2006 11:03 PM
I'm really excited everytime you post. Not only when you post a story, but when you respond to comments like these. Its very refreshing that an author cares about his audience enough to constantly keep in touch the way that you are.
Anyways, your stories are very inspiring to all of us, and I hope you're doing well in your life today. As you've shared with us, you've had your fill or rough times. I hope that things are going successfully, not only on this site, but in your life as well.
Posted by: Bijan at December 2, 2006 03:31 AM
is november 29 your real birthday? if so we share the same birthday. sweet.
Posted by: Tumor at December 2, 2006 05:02 PM
Mine and Tracy's brithday are in March 29th, Tumor.
Posted by: DM at December 2, 2006 09:15 PM
Awesome awesome awesome awesome awesome. AWESOME!!!!!!
I mean that.
Posted by: Trevor at December 3, 2006 06:35 PM
Your writing skill is impressive. However, I notice you seem to focus on the negative aspects of your life and the world in general (as does everyone else). Your writing very heterogenous, I just think it would be interesting if someone made a tribute to the world and not just its sorrow. Mankind was made to be pleased with itself and adjust to all things natural or otherwise. It seems the negative and dark humor stir our deeper emotions, I can't say why. However, joy and the present are equally deep moments of color.
This is just some jibberish that went through my mind, but I hope you find it useful.
DM: Did you read "The Art Institute?" "The Sun and the Moon?"
Posted by: Andy at December 4, 2006 02:24 AM
The Sun and the Moon was a great one, I hope we can hear more stories of your adventures in acidland. Even if it doesn't advance the story much the things people experience in a single trip could fill a book alone. It sucks that you lost contact with Travis, it seemed like his story was just getting interesting! Have you completely quit opiates at this point in the story? And did you ever sample the pixie dust?
dm reply: Thank you. The Sun and the Moon was one of my favorites. Yes, at this point in the story, I have completely quit all drugs. Never tried pixie dust and never will. I've seen it completely destroy too many people close to me.
Posted by: Wysefool at December 4, 2006 09:22 PM
Hey man, wtf, you didn't tell me about this site so now I'm condemned to say nice things about you when I want to call you a bastard and a thief. Argh. Seriously though, good to see that your writing continues. Damned entertaining stuff actually, and I'm glad to know you're doing alright. Keep up the good work.
dm reply: i thought i told you about my move over here. anyway, glad you found it and it's good to see you again!
Posted by: nostalgiphile at December 5, 2006 12:55 PM
Was The Sun and The Moon written by Patricia Ryan?
dm reply: no, some guy in missouri.
Posted by: Brian at December 5, 2006 01:48 PM
These stories are awesome!
How long 'till the next update?
Posted by: Lazy at December 5, 2006 08:45 PM
We need an update!!
Posted by: jarrod at December 6, 2006 09:58 AM
Take your time writing the next one, we don't mind waiting.
Posted by: me at December 7, 2006 10:25 AM
I know, I've been sucking at updating lately. I've had a lot of issues to deal with lately - I'm moving, my car shit itself and I bought a new one, an uncle I haven't seen in 20+ years came into town... I'll get back on it, I promise. Bear with me.
Posted by: DM at December 7, 2006 03:55 PM
Dudes, the DM is one of the best posters on the site formerly known as festering ass. I count 34 entries here, better than any others. I say, if he needs a few weeks to a) take time off, b) move and fix his incontinent car, and c) take time off, then all the better. Besides, who else on T.S.F.K.A.F.A (figure that one out :) ) has written things that make us all laugh, cry, not do drugs, etc??
Love the stories, keep it up DM.
Posted by: John Fillingsteeth at December 8, 2006 05:02 PM
well,
i don't know about "not do drugs," actualy, add "cry" to that list as well.
TSFKAFA = This Sucks Fucking Kolossaly (cool way of spelling colossaly) Apdate Fuck Aaaahhhhrgh!!!!
Did i get it right??
Posted by: Nikita at December 8, 2006 10:05 PM
The Site Formely Known As Festering Ass
Posted by: Peter at December 8, 2006 10:12 PM
I have been busy for a few months and I'ts weird how you're age caught up with me and now you're slightly older. It's kind of an interesting look at the future. I like your story's and the way you write them.
Posted by: Jake at December 18, 2006 09:28 PM
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