February 29, 2006
Corey was a stocky grocery-store worker who was trying to talk me into being in a new-wave band with him. Angie was a preacher's daughter with bad acne and a penchant for spontaneous sex. They were both from Hermiston, a small Oregon town about forty minutes south of Kennewick, Washington, where I lived my first twenty years. They came up to Kennewick because there was a bingo parlor that hosted underage dances on Friday nights. These dances were the highlight of the week for us. Other than those, there was nothing to do except go to the mall and shock conservative grown-ups by the way we dressed. This was the '80s, and I was really into paisley. My mom made me dress jackets that looked like they came from Prince's wardrobe. I also wore dangly earrings and stretch pants with penny loafers."Shirts off!" yelled Marco. I was watching Alexis dancing out of the corner of my eye. |
"I should get hard first," he said. Then he paused. "Right?" |
Marco's head went under the blanket and I shifted a little. |
©2006 Kevin Sampsell and Nerve.com