smokeandmirrors
Banned
Oh lord give me strength. This girl I'm talking o with is apparently 4 years younger than me and it's weird for me. I get we're both adults but still
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F A K E G A F T E N
- Thread starter liliththepale
- Start date
- Status
EatChildren
Currently polling second in Australia's federal election (first in the Gold Coast), this feral may one day be your Bogan King.
The local bottle shop, which was just general whatever beers and wines (and not a lot of them to be honest), has changed management. New blokes have transformed it into a boutique beer shop. A lot of Australian microbreweries are stocked and their selection is fantastic. They even do the odd import and, after a chat, said they'd be getting in some Stone for me this week. Fuck yes. I have a fancy beer place outside my house.
That's a big age difference... Recipe for disaster!
disappeared
Banned
Man I was 26, picking up my girlfriend, 17, from high school. I was that fuckin creep pulling up outside the school in my truck when the bell rang and she hopped in all giddy. You can't look back on that with any good feeling. It can't be that bad.
I found out later she moved a province over and was getting into medical school. I was proud of her.
SolVanderlyn
Thanos acquires the fully powered Infinity Gauntlet in The Avengers: Infinity War, but loses when all the superheroes team up together to stop him.
It's funny how this is legal in some countries and illegal in others. Cross the border and you'd go to jail, lol.
Biggest age difference for me was 22/18, I was 22
disappeared
Banned
Canada is a fucked up place.
T
Transhuman
Unconfirmed Member
I'm not sure if those girls would want to be at that dirtbike rally if they wern't paid though.
SolVanderlyn
Thanos acquires the fully powered Infinity Gauntlet in The Avengers: Infinity War, but loses when all the superheroes team up together to stop him.
Things I can stay calm during
1. Severe disagreement with others, whether it be petty or deeply personal/political
2. Physical or mental injury
3. Being mistreated by others
4. Life crisis
5. Deadlines
Things I lose my shit over
1. When the coffee pot is empty and nobody refills it
2. The sound of people chewing their food
3. When people move shit from where it was and then I can't find it
4. Bad wi-fi
1. Severe disagreement with others, whether it be petty or deeply personal/political
2. Physical or mental injury
3. Being mistreated by others
4. Life crisis
5. Deadlines
Things I lose my shit over
1. When the coffee pot is empty and nobody refills it
2. The sound of people chewing their food
3. When people move shit from where it was and then I can't find it
4. Bad wi-fi
EatChildren
Currently polling second in Australia's federal election (first in the Gold Coast), this feral may one day be your Bogan King.
5. People putting bowls and plates in the sink still with food on them.
SolVanderlyn
Thanos acquires the fully powered Infinity Gauntlet in The Avengers: Infinity War, but loses when all the superheroes team up together to stop him.
FfffffFFFFFFFUUUU
disappeared
Banned
I dated a girl when I was 24, she was 18, and she asked me if it was okay if she still saw this other guy, in his 40s, on the side, because he paid her about $300 every time she hung out with him. She told me it was the girlfriend-experience thing, she'd blow him, and that was it. She asked me if it was okay. I said, okay.
toadsworth
Banned
I'm quite jealous. Clemson had a craft beer place where I could make my own six pack and I haven't seen anything like that where I live now. So I've just been drinking a lot of gin. And whatever beer they have at the grocery store.
LookAtMeGo
Member
I fucked a 40 year old when I was 19.
disappeared
Banned
Was it the best?
LookAtMeGo
Member
Its quite the story actually but would take too long to write up right now. I gota get up for work in 6 hours. But yes. Its probably my greatest sex story of all time.
Tldr version: I was basically the dancing bear for a night at a cabin during a batchelorette party at the Jasper Park Lodge.
disappeared
Banned
Josh with a J
Member
I made a lot of mistakes tonight o_o
smokeandmirrors
Banned
Yikes.... Idk. She seems cool and I guess at the bare minimum I can use this for sex. I'll be honest I've been in a funk so anything to break me out of it
How old are you?
For the record it was a joke because my gf is 9 years younger than I am
toadsworth
Banned
I yelled a lot because clemson barely won tonight. Glad I went out and tried to be social though!
disappeared
Banned
When you've dug down far enough, you look up, and any pinhole of light that's visible mayeswell look like mana from whatever heaven you pray to.
Just keep yourself safe. Keep her safe.
Have fun.
smokeandmirrors
Banned
24. Soon to be 25.
She seems really into me and at this point I'll literally take anything. It's been years due to low self esteem and depression.
Four year age difference is nothing, man. Don't let that be the issue. Go for it!
So, a usual Saturday for you bro?
disappeared
Banned
"better"
This better memory is why
Maybe better cigarettes would smell better
on this chrome track
to better cells
with better ears
I can hear you through this
eight years ago
with a hum
This better memory is why
Maybe better cigarettes would smell better
on this chrome track
to better cells
with better ears
I can hear you through this
eight years ago
with a hum
disappeared
Banned
"thursday"
This heat lifts my thoughts amongst all objections
and I can picture my brain drunk on a Thursday afternoon
But thats a little too wordy
So I hold my peace in the shower and I scrub off
the smell
Skeletons have more opportunities than we do
They get to choose their meat
And were just born with it,
Said heaven,
while I prance around in old clothes
hoping for something new
This heat lifts my thoughts amongst all objections
and I can picture my brain drunk on a Thursday afternoon
But thats a little too wordy
So I hold my peace in the shower and I scrub off
the smell
Skeletons have more opportunities than we do
They get to choose their meat
And were just born with it,
Said heaven,
while I prance around in old clothes
hoping for something new
disappeared
Banned
"excitable boy"
Dear author,
The missus and I were sitting on the couch one night and I had a notion to play her a song. I turned on the player and put on Warren Zevons Excitable Boy. By the third verse she screamed at me to stop the song.
I CANTT TAKE IT
Why not?
I CANT LISTEN TO THIS SHIT AFTER WHAT HAPPENED TO TIFFANY!
Tiffany, Jess younger sister, was sexually molested by her cousin some years back, and when Warren belted out Raped her I guess she couldnt stand the song anymore.
Its a good song.
FUCK YOU TURN IT OFF!
That was all the music we listened to that night. She went to bed and cried for a while until she fell asleep.
Dear author,
The missus and I were sitting on the couch one night and I had a notion to play her a song. I turned on the player and put on Warren Zevons Excitable Boy. By the third verse she screamed at me to stop the song.
I CANTT TAKE IT
Why not?
I CANT LISTEN TO THIS SHIT AFTER WHAT HAPPENED TO TIFFANY!
Tiffany, Jess younger sister, was sexually molested by her cousin some years back, and when Warren belted out Raped her I guess she couldnt stand the song anymore.
Its a good song.
FUCK YOU TURN IT OFF!
That was all the music we listened to that night. She went to bed and cried for a while until she fell asleep.
disappeared
Banned
"sun and her being in her twenties"
I let this little snow light in
Beneath a million pounds
The stars hover here and twinkle and crush us
Warm weight
The tarmac heats up under western sun
Can you really blame the grass for dying?
I thought about an alcoholic getting better. Kicking the habit. Maybe when hes thirty-six he adopts a baby girl. Maybe he tries his best. He raises her good till she gets to be twenty-something. He starts drinking again. She gets rightfully pissed and abandons him.
I let this little snow light in
Beneath a million pounds
The stars hover here and twinkle and crush us
Warm weight
The tarmac heats up under western sun
Can you really blame the grass for dying?
I thought about an alcoholic getting better. Kicking the habit. Maybe when hes thirty-six he adopts a baby girl. Maybe he tries his best. He raises her good till she gets to be twenty-something. He starts drinking again. She gets rightfully pissed and abandons him.
WhereAreMahDragonz
Banned
My ex was four years younger lol
disappeared
Banned
The girl shut her eyes and turned to run. Most of all it was the sound she couldn’t bear so she cupped her hands over her ears and when she started running she opened her wet eyes and she ran through the yard up to the house and inside through the porch door. She shook off her shoes and ran past her mother at the kitchen counter making breakfast. She ran upstairs and into her bedroom and got to the floor and scurried under her bed and cried.
She heard her mother come up the stairs and saw her nylon-stocking feet beside the bed and her mother stopped and knelt down and looked at the girl.
“What’s the matter?”
The girl sniffled and gasped between sobs.
“Daisy” she wailed. “A fox got Daisy in the coop.”
Her mother sighed. “Come here.”
Her mother took her hand as she crawled out from under the bed and they sat on the floor for a while and as she cried her mother ran her fingers through the girl’s hair and rocked her slow back and forth.
The girl pictured the dead and bloodied dog over and over.
And the sound.
Downstairs her mother made tea with cream and sugar for the two of them. The girl wasn’t crying anymore but she was still sniffling and she wiped at her puffed eyes. From the kitchen table she looked out the picture window and saw two hummingbirds taking drinks of the red-dyed sugar water from the plastic feeder strung up by chicken wire to the truss of the awning outside. They hovered in place and moved only slightly and drank and drank.
Her mother was humming too, some quiet tune she hadn’t heard before. The two birds flew off and her mother turned to her with the tea and came to the table and set the cups down.
“Let it cool.”
“I know,” the girl said and she sniffled.
“It’s all right.”
The girl took the cup in both hands but put it down again quick - still too hot.
“I told you,” her mother said.
They sat quiet for a few minutes.
“She’s in a better place now,” her mother said.
“Where?”
“Heaven.”
“Yeah?” and her eyes welled up again.
“Yes.”
“Is she happy?”
“Yes, sweetie, she’s happy and she always will be.”
The hummingbirds came back to the feeder and drank and darted around and flew off again.
“Daisy was a good girl,” the girl said.
“She was.”
The girl was crying again.
“Shhh,” and her mother brought the girl in close, “shhh.”
The girl calmed down again and the tea had cooled enough to drink and when she put the cup to her mouth the steam from it went up her nose and she sniffled and drank until the tea was gone. Her mother was sniffling too but not from the tea.
“It’ll be fine when dad gets home.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. When he gets home it’ll be fine.”
…
The girl stayed in the house the rest of the day. In the afternoon her mother made soup and sandwiches and tried to keep the girl’s mind off the dog.
“We’ll have to get you some notebooks and pencils pretty soon. School’s coming.”
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Livingstone told me he’s got some good pencils at the store. Nice coloring ones too.”
The girl didn’t answer, just hmmm’d, and played with the soup in the bowl with her spoon swirling the bits of carrots and celery around each other.
“Are you finished?” her mother asked.
“I’m not too hungry.”
“You should eat, sweetie.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Just finish the soup then.”
“Yessum.”
The girl ate the soup and her mother cleared the table and put the leftover sandwiches on a plate in the fridge and the girl wandered upstairs to her room and saw the cat - absent all morning - sunning itself on the bed. She lied down next to it and lightly ran her fingers from its head down to its flank. She looked at it with its eyes closed, head resting on its paws. It purred but didn’t open its eyes and it didn’t stop purring until the girl had also put her head down and had fallen asleep.
When she woke up she looked out the window and its was getting to be dusk. The cat had disappeared somewhere. She got up and yawned and stretched and went downstairs and when she stepped into the living room she saw her mother asleep in the big chair with a book sprawled openfaced on her lap and an empty wine glass on the end table. The girl thought how beautiful her mother looked like that, her hair down to her shoulders, a tanned blonde shade and cut to look a little messy, like a boy’s, the girl thought, her eyes closed, her lips relaxed, her sharp facial features.
The girl crept across the room’s hardwood floor into the kitchen and she saw the cat had settled and was sleeping next to the heating duct under the sink cupboards. She opened the fridge - waking the cat - and took a sandwich from the plate. She sat at the table and ate in silence. The cat (not amused) went back to sleep. The clock ticked away, almost seven, and out the window the sun sank down behind the old pines of the shelter belt.
…
“Hey.”
The girl turned from the table and her mother stood in the doorway, sleepy-eyed, holding the wine glass.
“Mom.”
Her mother walked into the kitchen and grazed the girl’s hair her free hand on her way to the counter and put the glass in the sink and looked out the window and then up at the clock.
“Ten after.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Dad’ll be home soon?”
“Yes.”
Her mother fetched some cookwear out of the cupboards and started to work on supper. The girl stood from the table and went into the living room and looked out the big window to the south of the yard and it was a dark blue orange toward to west. When her father got home from work it meant talking about the dog.
‘Poor Daisy.’
She choked up again and started to sniffle and wiped her nose in her hand and then her hand on her dress. She heard her mother humming again and she thought about the two birds at the sugar-feeder. She went back into the kitchen and the cat was at her mother’s feet at the sink still napping by the vent and the girl went and knelt down and scooped up the cat and held it tight. It fidgeted and squirmed but the girl held it close and carried it with her upstairs to her bedroom. She sat on the bed and let the cat down and it didn’t protest anymore but circled around in place a few times then lied down. The girl sat and looked at a painting on the wall by the stairs. It was an original, painted by one of her uncles. She forgot which one. It was of an old tree collapsed against an old rusted and broke-down threshing machine out in an abandoned field with the sun setting in the background. Carved in the frame at the bottom was, ’Peace at last’
The girl laid in bed and stared at the ceiling for a while and tried to think of anything but the dog. She sniffled again but caught herself and stopped and sat up and tried to read a book. She took one from the shelf over the bed and opened it and stared at the words but couldn’t concentrate. Her eyes were still a little wet, her eyelids cool as they touched together when she blinked. Soon she heard her father’s car tires crunching the gravel of the driveway into the yard, then the motor hum and quit, the porch door open and close, and then her father’s footsteps downstairs.
He was in the entrance as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. He sat down at the table and hunched over and untied his boots. Her mother was at the stove stirring something in a pot.
“How was work” her mother asked him.
“Terrible.”
“Dad,” the girl said and she went to hug him. His boots and his feet stank but she knew the smell and it was a safe smell.
“Hey,” he said, and hugged her.
“Why terrible,” her mother said.
“Lawrence lost his hand under a cart on the track.”
“Goodness!”
“He went into shock. Took the goddamn ambulance--”
“George!”
George looked at his wife a moment, then to the girl.
“…took the ambulance enough time to get there.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Should be, yeh. Off the job who knows how long.”
The girl glanced between her parents as they talked. She wanted to tell her father about Daisy. She felt her throat get tight again.
“How’s Diana?” her mother said.
“Hell if I know.”
The girl saw her mother cast a sharp look at her father like before, but she said nothing this time. The girl had seen it before and she knew.
“I imagine she’s pretty bad. Was his right hand too.”
The girl’s mother went back to making supper. Her father sat in the chair rubbing his face and then his feet. The girl stood close to her father and she smelled him and his boots and his stockings and his shirt and his breath. He took a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and blew his nose. The wet sound against the cloth.
“It’ll be a few minutes,” her mother said and stirred the pot.
He stood from the table and went to the cabinet next the fridge and opened it and pulled out a bottle of Daniel’s and a tumbler glass and poured it full. The girl watched him finish it in a couple of swallows and he replaced the bottle and glass in the cabinet and closed it.
“Get cleaned up,” the girl’s mother said.
George left the kitchen and the girl followed him through the living room and into the bathroom. Her throat was still tight, her eyes a little wet. She watched him through the doorway as he removed his shirt and started the hot tap water and washed his hands and his face and he cupped a hand of water and washed under his armpits. He grabbed a washcloth off the rack and ran it under the water and lathered it with the bar of soap and scrubbed again under his arms then behind his ears and the back of his neck and under his chin and washed the cloth clean and rinsed himself off.
The girl never really watched her father in the washroom like this but as she did this time it fascinated her. And it took her mind off of the dog. It seemed a curious thing, the way he washed, because when she washed with her mother it was different. The two of them would wash in the tub; her mother would take the girl’s hair and wet it then put in the shampoo and scrub it in, rinsing it with cups of water while the girl cupped her hands over her eyes and then she would sit there thinking of anything as her mother took a clean cloth and soaped and scrubbed and rinsed her. To her it seemed more quiet, more peaceful; her mother often humming. She would wait as her mother cleaned herself and she would comb the girl’s long hair in the mirror and then they would dry themselves with fresh towels and then dress. Her father seemed not that interested in taking such time and would wash more like it was a chore than anything relaxing or enjoyable. Sometimes he’d shave on weekends and slap some liquid from a small blue bottle on his cheeks and neck and he smelled nicer then. But his breath was always a sweet-sour.
George finished and looked over at her, watching him.
“What?”
She felt it coming on again.
“What is it?”
She swallowed hard, stopped herself.
“Go tell your mother I’ll be out in a minute.”
“All right.”
She went back to the kitchen. Supper was on the table and her mother was getting utensils from the drawer.
“Get the plates sweetie.”
“Yessum.”
The girl took three plates from the cupboard and put them out but almost dropped the last one.
“Careful.”
“Sorry.”
George came into the kitchen wearing a clean shirt. The girl watched him walk over and sit at the table in his hurried way and he reached for the big serving spoon and shovelled the potatoes and gravy and two pork chops onto his plate. She and her mother took their seats and they filled their own plates and ate in silence as they did unless something needed talking about. George ate away and the girl and her mother did also and exchanged glances. The girl started sniffling again.
“Dad?”
“Yeah,” George said through his mouth full of potatoes.
“Something happened to Daisy.”
He chewed and swallowed and looked at the girl.
“What?”
The girl let it out. She couldn’t help it. George put his fork down and looked at the girl and then to his wife. The three of them looked back and forth at each other for a few moments.
“Well what the hell happened?”
“George!”
He shot her a look to say he wasn’t having being scolded right then.
“Daisy had an accident.”
“Come out with it!”
“She was in the coop this morning..” and she sniffled and hiccupped.
“A fox got her.”
The girl’s mother looked at her husband who looked more upset by the second.
“A fox!?”
“Yeah,” the girl sniffled.
“A FOX got Daisy!?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“George!”
“When!?”
“This morning..” she was weeping.
“Jesus!”
“George!”
“Shut up, Alice!”
George burst up from his seat and stormed over to the cabinet and took the whiskey and tumbler and poured a shot and drank it and then drank another. The girl ran out of the kitchen and upstairs and Alice followed. George left the bottle and glass on the counter and went back over to the porch door and got his boots and coat on and took the shotgun from the shelf over the coat rack and the lantern that hung aside the door. He opened and shut the door hard enough the wall shook. Outside he reached into a coat pocket and took the box of matches and took one and lit the lantern wick and he marched across the yard.
‘Fucking christ almighty.’
In the house upstairs the two of them sat on the bedside while the girl cried.
“Shh.”
The girl tried to talk between sobbing gasps.
“He’s mad at me.”
“He’s not mad at you sweetie.”
“He is!”
“He’s not.”
“I didn’t know Daisy was in there!”
“Of course not.”
Alice ran her fingers through the girl’s hair.
“He loved her!”
“He loves you too.”
“But he really, really loved her!”
“He loves you too honey, very very much.”
“I’m sorry!”
“Shh.”
…
George held the lantern up and stepped into the coop. A few chickens still awake rustled and clucked. He peered in front of him and saw the dog. He knelt down by it; the throat and front legs bit and torn, the blood colored black by the dull light of the lamp. George figured she probably hadn’t lasted long in the fight.
‘Fucking hell.’
He touched her head, the fur matted with blood.
‘Daisy.’
From his coat pocket he brought out a rolled cigarette and took a match and lit it and he kneeled there by the dog and smoked in the dim light as the chickens finally went quiet and all he heard was his breath and the crickets outside.
Alice had calmed the girl down and got her a glass of milk and then put her to sleep. It took a while but the girl finally closed her eyes and her breathing settled. As the girl slept Alice stroked her hair and then turned off the light and crept downstairs and into the kitchen. She went to the cabinet and took her bottle of wine and the glass from the sink and poured a full glass. George’s chair had tipped over and she stood it up and then sat at hers. The supper was still on the table, cold, and she stared at it and at the three plates and sipped the wine. When it was done she poured another glass and sat and listened to the clock tick away.
George was in the tool shed looking for the shovel, the spade. He spotted it a corner behind some other tools but it was the flathead.
‘Always fuckin something.’
He remembered then it was in the workshop and he went and got it and walked by the lamplight out behind the barn. The sky was overcast and the moon offered little help. He found a place next to a tree stump and set the lamp down a took the spade and dug. He dug deep so as another animal wouldn’t come snuffing around and rip up the grave or the corpse. When the hole was good enough he went back to the tool shed and found an old cloth sheet and took it to the coop and gently wrapped the dog in it and carried her to the hole. He set her down as softly as he could and stood there a moment and looked at all of it. With the spade he replaced the dirt and packed it tight. He sat down and stared at it. The lamp went out. He didn’t bother with it again, just pulled out another cigarette and smoked it in the dark. After a while he stood and went back to the house with the kitchen light still on.
He walked inside and the room was empty. He closed the door but not hard as before. He sat in his chair and took off his boots then his coat and put the shotgun back on the shelf. He went to the counter and took the bottle and glass and brought them to the table and he sat and poured a full drink and downed it and poured another. He stared at the window, black, at everything that wasn’t there, just the reflection back into the kitchen. He watched himself a moment there, cut off at the neck by the windowsill. The house was quiet except when the furnace kicked in or out. An owl went off somewhere nearby. A couple of coyotes chattered, then nothing. He rested back in the chair and sipped the drink and looked at the empty table cleared of the supper.
‘The poor thing. The poor fuckin’ thing. Why couldn’t it have been the fuckin’ cat? Daisy didn’t do hell to nobody. I shoulda of put the fence up years ago.’
He sat and tried not to think about it. He heard a shuffling from the living room and Alice walked in. He didn’t look up at her.
“You all right?”
He didn’t answer.
She walked to table and sat at the girl’s seat next to him. He didn’t look up, just down at the table. They both sat for a while. It was going on midnight. He took the last swallow from his glass and filled it again, the last of the bottle, and laid back in the chair.
“That fuckin’ dog was better than anyone,” and he killed the drink.
“I know.”
George took the glass in his hand and hurled it across the room and it hit a cupboard and exploded. Glass went everywhere. Alice shielded her head, her hands covered her ears. George sat back.
“I bet you do,” and he spat on the floor.
“Jesus!”
He leaned in toward her and slapped her.
She sat there with her head turned from the blow. When she didn’t say anything but slowly turned her head back to face him he slapped her again.
Her eyes were wet and her throat went tight. She didn’t move, just faced away from him.
“She thinks it’s her fault,” Alice said.
George didn’t move, didn’t answer. They sat in silence.
…
He woke up at the kitchen table as the daylight started in through the window. His head hurt. He felt his shirt pockets for a cigarette, found one, then for a match, but found none. He stood to go to his coat and he remembered the glass. He searched the floor and moved a foot in wide arcs, but there was nothing. He stood and got a match from his coat and lit the cigarette and went to the bathroom. On his way he saw their bedroom door closed. At the sink he washed his face and brushed his teeth and then went back to the kitchen. He sat and put on his boots and coat and got the car keys and opened the door and closed it without a sound.
…
After breakfast the girl went outside and through the yard toward the barn. She passed the chicken coop but did not look in. The feeling hit her again, it was her fault. It was her fault. It had to be. She sniffled again and wiped it on her coat sleeve and walked on. She listened to the birds. She passed the rear of the barn and looked and saw the dirt mound and the lantern. She didn’t approach but stood and looked at it from where she was.
In the afternoon the girl and her mother bathed. When they finished they sat in the tub for a while and Alice put her ear against the girl’s back and listened to the heart beat.
To the girl it all seemed so safe and eternal. Alice washed her own hair, first massaging it dry and she ran a hand through it and felt a sting on her finger. She brought her hand in front of her to see and there was a sliver of glass stuck in, some blood now running from the wound.
The end.
She heard her mother come up the stairs and saw her nylon-stocking feet beside the bed and her mother stopped and knelt down and looked at the girl.
“What’s the matter?”
The girl sniffled and gasped between sobs.
“Daisy” she wailed. “A fox got Daisy in the coop.”
Her mother sighed. “Come here.”
Her mother took her hand as she crawled out from under the bed and they sat on the floor for a while and as she cried her mother ran her fingers through the girl’s hair and rocked her slow back and forth.
The girl pictured the dead and bloodied dog over and over.
And the sound.
Downstairs her mother made tea with cream and sugar for the two of them. The girl wasn’t crying anymore but she was still sniffling and she wiped at her puffed eyes. From the kitchen table she looked out the picture window and saw two hummingbirds taking drinks of the red-dyed sugar water from the plastic feeder strung up by chicken wire to the truss of the awning outside. They hovered in place and moved only slightly and drank and drank.
Her mother was humming too, some quiet tune she hadn’t heard before. The two birds flew off and her mother turned to her with the tea and came to the table and set the cups down.
“Let it cool.”
“I know,” the girl said and she sniffled.
“It’s all right.”
The girl took the cup in both hands but put it down again quick - still too hot.
“I told you,” her mother said.
They sat quiet for a few minutes.
“She’s in a better place now,” her mother said.
“Where?”
“Heaven.”
“Yeah?” and her eyes welled up again.
“Yes.”
“Is she happy?”
“Yes, sweetie, she’s happy and she always will be.”
The hummingbirds came back to the feeder and drank and darted around and flew off again.
“Daisy was a good girl,” the girl said.
“She was.”
The girl was crying again.
“Shhh,” and her mother brought the girl in close, “shhh.”
The girl calmed down again and the tea had cooled enough to drink and when she put the cup to her mouth the steam from it went up her nose and she sniffled and drank until the tea was gone. Her mother was sniffling too but not from the tea.
“It’ll be fine when dad gets home.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. When he gets home it’ll be fine.”
…
The girl stayed in the house the rest of the day. In the afternoon her mother made soup and sandwiches and tried to keep the girl’s mind off the dog.
“We’ll have to get you some notebooks and pencils pretty soon. School’s coming.”
“Yeah.”
“Mr. Livingstone told me he’s got some good pencils at the store. Nice coloring ones too.”
The girl didn’t answer, just hmmm’d, and played with the soup in the bowl with her spoon swirling the bits of carrots and celery around each other.
“Are you finished?” her mother asked.
“I’m not too hungry.”
“You should eat, sweetie.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Just finish the soup then.”
“Yessum.”
The girl ate the soup and her mother cleared the table and put the leftover sandwiches on a plate in the fridge and the girl wandered upstairs to her room and saw the cat - absent all morning - sunning itself on the bed. She lied down next to it and lightly ran her fingers from its head down to its flank. She looked at it with its eyes closed, head resting on its paws. It purred but didn’t open its eyes and it didn’t stop purring until the girl had also put her head down and had fallen asleep.
When she woke up she looked out the window and its was getting to be dusk. The cat had disappeared somewhere. She got up and yawned and stretched and went downstairs and when she stepped into the living room she saw her mother asleep in the big chair with a book sprawled openfaced on her lap and an empty wine glass on the end table. The girl thought how beautiful her mother looked like that, her hair down to her shoulders, a tanned blonde shade and cut to look a little messy, like a boy’s, the girl thought, her eyes closed, her lips relaxed, her sharp facial features.
The girl crept across the room’s hardwood floor into the kitchen and she saw the cat had settled and was sleeping next to the heating duct under the sink cupboards. She opened the fridge - waking the cat - and took a sandwich from the plate. She sat at the table and ate in silence. The cat (not amused) went back to sleep. The clock ticked away, almost seven, and out the window the sun sank down behind the old pines of the shelter belt.
…
“Hey.”
The girl turned from the table and her mother stood in the doorway, sleepy-eyed, holding the wine glass.
“Mom.”
Her mother walked into the kitchen and grazed the girl’s hair her free hand on her way to the counter and put the glass in the sink and looked out the window and then up at the clock.
“Ten after.”
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
“It’s okay.”
“Dad’ll be home soon?”
“Yes.”
Her mother fetched some cookwear out of the cupboards and started to work on supper. The girl stood from the table and went into the living room and looked out the big window to the south of the yard and it was a dark blue orange toward to west. When her father got home from work it meant talking about the dog.
‘Poor Daisy.’
She choked up again and started to sniffle and wiped her nose in her hand and then her hand on her dress. She heard her mother humming again and she thought about the two birds at the sugar-feeder. She went back into the kitchen and the cat was at her mother’s feet at the sink still napping by the vent and the girl went and knelt down and scooped up the cat and held it tight. It fidgeted and squirmed but the girl held it close and carried it with her upstairs to her bedroom. She sat on the bed and let the cat down and it didn’t protest anymore but circled around in place a few times then lied down. The girl sat and looked at a painting on the wall by the stairs. It was an original, painted by one of her uncles. She forgot which one. It was of an old tree collapsed against an old rusted and broke-down threshing machine out in an abandoned field with the sun setting in the background. Carved in the frame at the bottom was, ’Peace at last’
The girl laid in bed and stared at the ceiling for a while and tried to think of anything but the dog. She sniffled again but caught herself and stopped and sat up and tried to read a book. She took one from the shelf over the bed and opened it and stared at the words but couldn’t concentrate. Her eyes were still a little wet, her eyelids cool as they touched together when she blinked. Soon she heard her father’s car tires crunching the gravel of the driveway into the yard, then the motor hum and quit, the porch door open and close, and then her father’s footsteps downstairs.
He was in the entrance as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. He sat down at the table and hunched over and untied his boots. Her mother was at the stove stirring something in a pot.
“How was work” her mother asked him.
“Terrible.”
“Dad,” the girl said and she went to hug him. His boots and his feet stank but she knew the smell and it was a safe smell.
“Hey,” he said, and hugged her.
“Why terrible,” her mother said.
“Lawrence lost his hand under a cart on the track.”
“Goodness!”
“He went into shock. Took the goddamn ambulance--”
“George!”
George looked at his wife a moment, then to the girl.
“…took the ambulance enough time to get there.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Should be, yeh. Off the job who knows how long.”
The girl glanced between her parents as they talked. She wanted to tell her father about Daisy. She felt her throat get tight again.
“How’s Diana?” her mother said.
“Hell if I know.”
The girl saw her mother cast a sharp look at her father like before, but she said nothing this time. The girl had seen it before and she knew.
“I imagine she’s pretty bad. Was his right hand too.”
The girl’s mother went back to making supper. Her father sat in the chair rubbing his face and then his feet. The girl stood close to her father and she smelled him and his boots and his stockings and his shirt and his breath. He took a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and blew his nose. The wet sound against the cloth.
“It’ll be a few minutes,” her mother said and stirred the pot.
He stood from the table and went to the cabinet next the fridge and opened it and pulled out a bottle of Daniel’s and a tumbler glass and poured it full. The girl watched him finish it in a couple of swallows and he replaced the bottle and glass in the cabinet and closed it.
“Get cleaned up,” the girl’s mother said.
George left the kitchen and the girl followed him through the living room and into the bathroom. Her throat was still tight, her eyes a little wet. She watched him through the doorway as he removed his shirt and started the hot tap water and washed his hands and his face and he cupped a hand of water and washed under his armpits. He grabbed a washcloth off the rack and ran it under the water and lathered it with the bar of soap and scrubbed again under his arms then behind his ears and the back of his neck and under his chin and washed the cloth clean and rinsed himself off.
The girl never really watched her father in the washroom like this but as she did this time it fascinated her. And it took her mind off of the dog. It seemed a curious thing, the way he washed, because when she washed with her mother it was different. The two of them would wash in the tub; her mother would take the girl’s hair and wet it then put in the shampoo and scrub it in, rinsing it with cups of water while the girl cupped her hands over her eyes and then she would sit there thinking of anything as her mother took a clean cloth and soaped and scrubbed and rinsed her. To her it seemed more quiet, more peaceful; her mother often humming. She would wait as her mother cleaned herself and she would comb the girl’s long hair in the mirror and then they would dry themselves with fresh towels and then dress. Her father seemed not that interested in taking such time and would wash more like it was a chore than anything relaxing or enjoyable. Sometimes he’d shave on weekends and slap some liquid from a small blue bottle on his cheeks and neck and he smelled nicer then. But his breath was always a sweet-sour.
George finished and looked over at her, watching him.
“What?”
She felt it coming on again.
“What is it?”
She swallowed hard, stopped herself.
“Go tell your mother I’ll be out in a minute.”
“All right.”
She went back to the kitchen. Supper was on the table and her mother was getting utensils from the drawer.
“Get the plates sweetie.”
“Yessum.”
The girl took three plates from the cupboard and put them out but almost dropped the last one.
“Careful.”
“Sorry.”
George came into the kitchen wearing a clean shirt. The girl watched him walk over and sit at the table in his hurried way and he reached for the big serving spoon and shovelled the potatoes and gravy and two pork chops onto his plate. She and her mother took their seats and they filled their own plates and ate in silence as they did unless something needed talking about. George ate away and the girl and her mother did also and exchanged glances. The girl started sniffling again.
“Dad?”
“Yeah,” George said through his mouth full of potatoes.
“Something happened to Daisy.”
He chewed and swallowed and looked at the girl.
“What?”
The girl let it out. She couldn’t help it. George put his fork down and looked at the girl and then to his wife. The three of them looked back and forth at each other for a few moments.
“Well what the hell happened?”
“George!”
He shot her a look to say he wasn’t having being scolded right then.
“Daisy had an accident.”
“Come out with it!”
“She was in the coop this morning..” and she sniffled and hiccupped.
“A fox got her.”
The girl’s mother looked at her husband who looked more upset by the second.
“A fox!?”
“Yeah,” the girl sniffled.
“A FOX got Daisy!?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“George!”
“When!?”
“This morning..” she was weeping.
“Jesus!”
“George!”
“Shut up, Alice!”
George burst up from his seat and stormed over to the cabinet and took the whiskey and tumbler and poured a shot and drank it and then drank another. The girl ran out of the kitchen and upstairs and Alice followed. George left the bottle and glass on the counter and went back over to the porch door and got his boots and coat on and took the shotgun from the shelf over the coat rack and the lantern that hung aside the door. He opened and shut the door hard enough the wall shook. Outside he reached into a coat pocket and took the box of matches and took one and lit the lantern wick and he marched across the yard.
‘Fucking christ almighty.’
In the house upstairs the two of them sat on the bedside while the girl cried.
“Shh.”
The girl tried to talk between sobbing gasps.
“He’s mad at me.”
“He’s not mad at you sweetie.”
“He is!”
“He’s not.”
“I didn’t know Daisy was in there!”
“Of course not.”
Alice ran her fingers through the girl’s hair.
“He loved her!”
“He loves you too.”
“But he really, really loved her!”
“He loves you too honey, very very much.”
“I’m sorry!”
“Shh.”
…
George held the lantern up and stepped into the coop. A few chickens still awake rustled and clucked. He peered in front of him and saw the dog. He knelt down by it; the throat and front legs bit and torn, the blood colored black by the dull light of the lamp. George figured she probably hadn’t lasted long in the fight.
‘Fucking hell.’
He touched her head, the fur matted with blood.
‘Daisy.’
From his coat pocket he brought out a rolled cigarette and took a match and lit it and he kneeled there by the dog and smoked in the dim light as the chickens finally went quiet and all he heard was his breath and the crickets outside.
Alice had calmed the girl down and got her a glass of milk and then put her to sleep. It took a while but the girl finally closed her eyes and her breathing settled. As the girl slept Alice stroked her hair and then turned off the light and crept downstairs and into the kitchen. She went to the cabinet and took her bottle of wine and the glass from the sink and poured a full glass. George’s chair had tipped over and she stood it up and then sat at hers. The supper was still on the table, cold, and she stared at it and at the three plates and sipped the wine. When it was done she poured another glass and sat and listened to the clock tick away.
George was in the tool shed looking for the shovel, the spade. He spotted it a corner behind some other tools but it was the flathead.
‘Always fuckin something.’
He remembered then it was in the workshop and he went and got it and walked by the lamplight out behind the barn. The sky was overcast and the moon offered little help. He found a place next to a tree stump and set the lamp down a took the spade and dug. He dug deep so as another animal wouldn’t come snuffing around and rip up the grave or the corpse. When the hole was good enough he went back to the tool shed and found an old cloth sheet and took it to the coop and gently wrapped the dog in it and carried her to the hole. He set her down as softly as he could and stood there a moment and looked at all of it. With the spade he replaced the dirt and packed it tight. He sat down and stared at it. The lamp went out. He didn’t bother with it again, just pulled out another cigarette and smoked it in the dark. After a while he stood and went back to the house with the kitchen light still on.
He walked inside and the room was empty. He closed the door but not hard as before. He sat in his chair and took off his boots then his coat and put the shotgun back on the shelf. He went to the counter and took the bottle and glass and brought them to the table and he sat and poured a full drink and downed it and poured another. He stared at the window, black, at everything that wasn’t there, just the reflection back into the kitchen. He watched himself a moment there, cut off at the neck by the windowsill. The house was quiet except when the furnace kicked in or out. An owl went off somewhere nearby. A couple of coyotes chattered, then nothing. He rested back in the chair and sipped the drink and looked at the empty table cleared of the supper.
‘The poor thing. The poor fuckin’ thing. Why couldn’t it have been the fuckin’ cat? Daisy didn’t do hell to nobody. I shoulda of put the fence up years ago.’
He sat and tried not to think about it. He heard a shuffling from the living room and Alice walked in. He didn’t look up at her.
“You all right?”
He didn’t answer.
She walked to table and sat at the girl’s seat next to him. He didn’t look up, just down at the table. They both sat for a while. It was going on midnight. He took the last swallow from his glass and filled it again, the last of the bottle, and laid back in the chair.
“That fuckin’ dog was better than anyone,” and he killed the drink.
“I know.”
George took the glass in his hand and hurled it across the room and it hit a cupboard and exploded. Glass went everywhere. Alice shielded her head, her hands covered her ears. George sat back.
“I bet you do,” and he spat on the floor.
“Jesus!”
He leaned in toward her and slapped her.
She sat there with her head turned from the blow. When she didn’t say anything but slowly turned her head back to face him he slapped her again.
Her eyes were wet and her throat went tight. She didn’t move, just faced away from him.
“She thinks it’s her fault,” Alice said.
George didn’t move, didn’t answer. They sat in silence.
…
He woke up at the kitchen table as the daylight started in through the window. His head hurt. He felt his shirt pockets for a cigarette, found one, then for a match, but found none. He stood to go to his coat and he remembered the glass. He searched the floor and moved a foot in wide arcs, but there was nothing. He stood and got a match from his coat and lit the cigarette and went to the bathroom. On his way he saw their bedroom door closed. At the sink he washed his face and brushed his teeth and then went back to the kitchen. He sat and put on his boots and coat and got the car keys and opened the door and closed it without a sound.
…
After breakfast the girl went outside and through the yard toward the barn. She passed the chicken coop but did not look in. The feeling hit her again, it was her fault. It was her fault. It had to be. She sniffled again and wiped it on her coat sleeve and walked on. She listened to the birds. She passed the rear of the barn and looked and saw the dirt mound and the lantern. She didn’t approach but stood and looked at it from where she was.
In the afternoon the girl and her mother bathed. When they finished they sat in the tub for a while and Alice put her ear against the girl’s back and listened to the heart beat.
To the girl it all seemed so safe and eternal. Alice washed her own hair, first massaging it dry and she ran a hand through it and felt a sting on her finger. She brought her hand in front of her to see and there was a sliver of glass stuck in, some blood now running from the wound.
The end.
WhereAreMahDragonz
Banned
oh are we doing poems?
"you cannot leave
and have me too
i cannot exist in
two places at once"
-when you ask if we can still be friends
"you cannot leave
and have me too
i cannot exist in
two places at once"
-when you ask if we can still be friends
disappeared
Banned
no.
KF2.
toadsworth
Banned
Killing Floor 2... why waste your time with that shit. You going to invite me again?
yeh
yeh
toadsworth
Banned
i'm down ! toadsworth#1770
It's the definition of dumb zombie killing fun.
I'm not inviting you to anything ever again.
disappeared
Banned
Hey Pete 
Did you teach her any other new tricks like walking and talking? So far I'm not impressed 😕
Hickbilly Deluxe
Banned
Bored. Wide awake. Semi-intoxicated. And have to work in an hour and a half. Oh, what I life I lead, fun such as this should be cherished and remembered forever....
toadsworth
Banned
Too drunk/tired to play reasonably... Let's try again tomorrow
T
Transhuman
Unconfirmed Member
That episode of Drawn Together was the best.
disappeared
Banned
Dennis when'd you change your name?
- Status