Brenda Read online

  “Are you forgetting what the word for ‘idiot’ is, sir? Because if you are, the word is ‘idiot’.”

  “Shut up, Reginald. Anyway, downstairs they have a bulletin board with flyers for a bunch of activities.”

  “Sounds lame, sir.”

  “It is, but there is one I think will appeal to her. Think for a minute. What is it all Australians love?”

  Reginald shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. Spiders?”

  “Nope. Have a lot of spiders, not so sure they love them. Guess again.”

  Reginald sighed. “Foxes and rabbits, sir? They’ve certainly imported enough of them.”

  “They have, but not what I’m thinking. Also, they may be reconsidering that decision. Guess again.”

  Reginald rolled his eyes. “Japanese tentacle porn?”

  “Really, Reginald? Again with the porn?”

  “Everyone loves tentacle porn, sir.”

  “No, they don’t. They definitely do not. You really are turning into a creepy old man. You do realize that, right?”

  “Says the man stalking the Australian girl.”

  “You know what, Reginald, just shut up. Alright, I’ll just tell you.”

  “About time, sir.”

  Jacob held out his arms and smiled a shit-eating grin. “Disco.”

  “Disco, sir?” Reginald asked with an understandably confused look on his face.

  “You know. Disco. Like ‘maybe the disco ate your baby’.”

  Reginald rested his head on his palm and shook his head. “You are such a fucking idiot it’s unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I’m sorry, Reginald. I didn’t catch that last thing.”

  “That’s not disco, sir, it’s dingo.”

  “What?” Jacob asked, looking dumbfounded like the idiot he was because seriously, how the fuck do you confuse dingo with disco? What the fuck, Jacob?

  “A dingo is a type of wild dog native to Australia, sir. That’s what would eat a baby. A disco is a type of lame dance that was popular in the 1970s because it was a stupid time.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t see any way a dance could eat a baby, sir.”

  “Well, I’ll go anyway. Maybe Australians like disco as well.”

  “I doubt it, sir. I don’t believe anybody likes disco.”

  The next night, Jacob made his way to the apartment complex’s disco night because “love” makes you do stupid, desperate things. The place had some music on and one of those twirly ball light thingies, and was relatively empty, because why wouldn’t it be?

  Well, this could be worse. At least there aren’t that many people here, Jacob thought, pouring himself some punch. Don’t think this outing is going to achieve its stated purpose, however. Besides, would I really want to be with somebody who would come to something like this? Look at these losers. Shit, what the fuck does this guy want?

  “Hello there. I don’t believe I’ve seen you around,” said a short, round man with a normal looking, short haircut and a stupid face. I know that’s not very descriptive, but seriously, stupid is the only way to describe his face. Also, he had glasses. “Are you new here?”

  “Uh, yeah, I just moved into Unit 801. Name is Jacob Stanton.”

  “Nice. I live in 206 myself. I’m William Cheeser.” Yes, Cheeser. His name was seriously Cheeser.

  “Nice to meet you,” Jacob said, extending his hand to his newfound buddy. Cheeser? What the fuck kind of name is that?

  “Pleasure’s all mine,” Cheeser said with a cheesy grin (get it. Cheeser-cheesy? Fuck off). “So, Jacob, what do you do for a living?”

  I fuck off and mind my own business, asshole. “I just graduated from college and moved to the area. I’m currently looking for a job. How about you?”

  “Oh, I’m a math teacher at the local high school.”

  “Sounds interesting,” Jacob lied.

  “Oh, it is. Yeah, it doesn’t pay a lot, but it’s worth it to do something you love, you know?”

  “Hmm,” Jacob said. Oh God, just kill me now.

  “Yeah, I always say, there’s more to life than just money, you know?”

  “Sure.”

  “And I just love those kids to death.”

  “I’ll bet.” Pedophile.

  “Yep, I sure do love my students,” Cheeser said, prambling on like the boring twat he was, though he didn’t realize it. “Especially my theater kids,” he said, mentioning another fact nobody cared about.

  “You’re into theater. Enthralling.”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah. Yeah, it’s my passion. I love teaching, but I’ve always had a special place in my heart for the the-a-ter,” Cheeser said, stretching out theater in the dramatic fashion you would expect from somebody who’s into theater. “Yeah, I’m a moderator for the theater club.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Yeah, it’s tough because most of the school’s extracurricular funding goes to sports. Of course, hahaha.”

  “The nerve, giving money to activities people care about.”

  “Yeah, but you know, we make it work. Nothing but passion and elbow grease but we make it work.” Cheeser laughed and paused with his stupid name before continuing, apparently under the impression that he was saying something interesting. “Oh, boy, the stories I could tell.”

  “Please don’t.”

  Cheeser laughed, and Jacob knew that his pleas were going unheeded. “Like this one time, we were on this trip.”

  “Oh, God.” Jacob said, using a capital G and breaking the second commandment.

  “And one of my kids got up to go to the bathroom.”

  “Heh. That is funny.”

  “And the other kids, get this, they put pepper in his drink. He came back, and spit it out.” Cheeser said, apparently confusing the world’s lamest practical joke for something funny.

  “How original.”

  “Yeah, they didn’t mean anything by it. They’re good kids, really, just need a creative outlet, but they are a hoot. It was pretty funny, but I still had to give them detention.”

  “Yeah, I never got that,” said Jacob, sick of Cheeser’s shit. “Why give kids detention? If you really want to scare them into line, you should threaten to feed them to the special ed class. That’ll learn ‘em good.”

  Cheeser gave Jacob a strange look and walked away. Perfect. Hopefully I won’t have to hear anymore inane stories from the jackass-o-muffin. Why does talking to other people always make me so damn lonely? And there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here worth talking to, so looks like it’s time for me to slip out.

  “Hello, sir. How was your evening?” Reginald greeted Jacob as he entered his apartment.

  “Lame. There was nobody there. Well, except for this lame-o schoolteacher who chewed my ear off. What are you doing?”

  “Just reading this rather bizarre, tragic story, sir. Apparently, this woman in her forties in England went to a bar, got two guys drunk and coked up, and then offered them sex if they would kill her husband.”

  “Awesome. She hot?”

  “She looks like a cokehead barfly in her mid-forties, sir.”

  “So, no, then?” Jacob walked around the counter and looked at the news article on the computer that Reginald was reading. “Ick. I might kill somebody to not have sex with that woman. Is that the husband?”

  “It is, sir.”

  “I see what she was going for, though. After seeing that picture, I kind of want him dead too.”

  “Well, you got your wish, sir. He is dead. The two men she got beat him to death.”

  “Jeez, Reginald, just make me feel like a dick, why don’t you?”

  “You are a dick, sir.”

  “Good point. I still don’t feel bad. The guy had it coming.”

  “How do you figure, sir?”

  “Seriously, Reginald? If you’re married to some woman who’s going to bars and offering sex to strangers to have you killed, you’ve obviously done something wrong with your life.”


  “I’m not quite sure that’s fair, sir.”

  “Anyway, I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.” Jacob headed to his bedroom, but stopped in the doorway. “So, did she end up having sex with them? You know what, don’t answer that. After seeing that picture, I’m not sure I’d be able to sleep tonight.”

  Jacob awoke the next morning to a text from Lucy that said, “Lunch on Friday?” That’s unusual, Jacob thought, heading into the kitchen and pouring himself a cup of coffee. Reginald soon joined him at the kitchen counter.

  “Sleep alright, sir?” Reginald asked, going about his morning task of getting Jacob a bowl of cereal, since this was apparently too much for Jacob to handle on his own.

  “Fine, Reginald, thank you,” Jacob said, taking the bowl from him. “How about you?”

  “I think you’re well aware that it doesn’t really matter, sir.”

  “Oh, right. I forget sometimes,” Jacob said, shoveling sugar puffs or whatever kiddy cereal he was eating into his mouth like a ten year old. “So, I got this text from Lucy this morning.”

  “Oh? And what did young Ms. Fontaine want?”

  “She wants to meet for lunch on Friday. Strange, right?”

  “That a young woman would wish to dine with you? Very strange, sir.”

  “Hey, shut up, Reginald. No, I mean for Lucy. I didn’t expect it, that’s all. I mean, it’s not like I know her all that well. We just went to high school together, you know?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m well aware of your personal history with Ms. Fontaine. So will you be attending then?”

  Jacob shrugged. “Haven’t decided yet.”

  “I can see why. After all, you have such a packed schedule, what with watching reruns.”

  “Shut it, Reginald.”

  “Playing video games.”

  “Alright, Reginald.”

  “Chronic masturbation.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Reginald, I’ll text her, alright.” Jacob responded to Lucy’s text with an acceptance of the invitation and an inquiry as to the time at which they would consume their midday meal. “There, Reginald, happy?”

  “Very much so, sir. Apologies, sir, but somebody has to save you from your anti-social instincts.”

  “I’ll be as anti-social as I want,” Jacob mumbled into his cereal. “This is America, damn it.”

  “What was that, sir?”

  “Nothing, Reginald,” Jacob said as his phone vibrated. He looked down and read the new text from Lucy. “How ‘bout noon? I have something I want to discuss w/ u.”

  Chapter 3-Lunch with Lucy.

  “Yo, so whatever happened with that whole ‘you pursuing Nancy’ thing?” Jacob asked Rock as the two played video games in Jacob’s apartment the following Thursday.

  Rock shrugged. “It’s going to happen eventually. I’ve been texting her, but she keeps playing hard to get.”

  “You mean she has no interest in you. Got you,” Jacob said, referring to the video game on which he’d just killed Rock. The video game was, unfortunately, not real life.

  “Damn it. And no dude, she’s just been busy. She works during the week.”

  “What’s she do? Damn, missed.”

  “Haha, fucktits. Anyway, hell if I know. She told me, but I wasn’t paying attention. Something at Lucy’s dad’s company.”

  “Really? You fucker.”

  “Suck it. Tied game. Anyway, yeah, that’s how they met. But no, dude, she said she’d text me tomorrow. Let me know what she’s up to. So, really, it’s only a matter of time. I’m going to sleep with her eventually,” said Rock the Lady Killer.

  “Of course you are, Rock.”

  “I am dude. I’ve even been boning up on my, heh heh, boning skills, if you know what I mean,” Rock the Impotent said.

  “Oh, yeah? How have you been doing that?”

  “Watching porn, dude. Lots of porn.”

  “How is that different from your ordinary schedule?”

  “Well, because dude, I’ve actually been paying attention, instead of just, well you know.”

  “Watching porn? That’s your plan?”

  “Yeah, dude.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes.”

  “You think watching lots of porn is going to somehow make you better in bed, and that’s going to woo this girl?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s like watching the dunk competition to improve your basketball fundamentals.”

  “Whatever, dude.”

  “Besides, if you operate on porn logic, you’ll never be able to satisfy her.”

  “Why not?”

  “You aren’t two black guys.”

  “Whatever. Damn, dude, you win. Good contest,” Rock said, turning the video game system off and heading to the door. “I’ll let you know if something’s going on this weekend? I mean, I’m hoping to hook up with Nancy, but if I’m free, I’ll text.”

  “That’s fine. Hey, wait a minute. So, the whole you liking Lucy thing. Is that completely done now?”

  Rock shrugged and looked at Jacob. “I mean, I guess. I figured that was never going to happen, so I just kind of gave up on it. Why?”

  “Because I’m having lunch with her tomorrow, and I was wondering what was going on with that whole thing. You know, since a week ago you were in love with her and all, and now you don’t seem to care much.”

  “Well, see what she says, I guess. Whatever. Anyway, I’ll see you later this weekend, probably. Later.”

  “Jacob, it’s so good to see you,” Lucy said the next day, when Jacob met her for lunch. She gave Jacob a friendly hug. “Thank you for coming.”

  “No problem. You look nice. You know where you want to go?”

  “Oh, thanks. I just came from work. Anyway, there is this sushi place you just have to try.”

  “I have to, do I?”

  “Yes, you do. Because I say so. Let’s go.”

  Sushi. Of fucking course she’d choose sushi. What a pompous, yuppie, “trendy” bullshit meal. I bet it’s not even good sushi. It’s probably Japan’s shit that they put in a futuristic looking restaurant, overcharge for it and these morons eat it up because it’s “cool”. What a… wait a minute, what the fuck does this person want?

  “Jacob, just keep your head down and ignore her,” Lucy warned, but it was too late. Jacob had made eye contact with the sidewalk activist, and now the predator had him in her sights. He would have no choice but to listen to her spiel, unless our hero could find some way to get out of it.

  “Hello, sir, how are you today?” The young lady said with a phony smile, pretending she actually cared about our friend’s well-being. She did not, of course, but was merely manipulating human courtesies in a cynical attempt to achieve her goal. “Would you care to take a moment to sign our petition?”

  “Sure. I often sign petitions without knowing what they’re for,” Jacob said, tapping into his special asshole powers in a desperate attempt to go about his day without being disturbed by a cause that neither he nor anybody else cared about. However, our fearful hunter was not about to allow a pedestrian to enjoy their Friday afternoon without injecting her cause into it.

  “Haha. Fair enough,” she said, laughing as if Jacob were an old friend joking with her, as opposed to some random guy attempting desperately to get away. Apparently, in the mind of this sidewalk activist, being left alone while one goes about their day is simply too much to ask. “It’s a petition urging the governor and state legislature to do more to improve conditions in prisons. It’s called the William Brackford Act, after William Brackford, a man who died after being attacked and raped in prison.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re telling me the William Brackford Act is named after William Brackford,” Jacob said, attempting to use his powerful asshole defense mechanism to escape a potentially life threatening situation. “Huh, glad you mentioned that. I never would have figured that out on my own.”

  “Oh, yeah, I guess that was kind o
f obvious,” the predator said, determined not to be thrown by playing Jacob’s dickish comment off as a joke and ignoring his obvious unease, as only one dedicated enough to a cause to devote her afternoon to annoying and hassling innocent people can. “So, will you sign?”

  “I don’t know,” Jacob said, wanting to sign it simply to get this woman to leave him alone, but knowing that doing so would only encourage others to annoy helpless pedestrians. Sucking it up and deciding to do what was necessary for society to thrive un-annoyed, Jacob doubled down on his ‘be a dick to this lady so she’ll leave me alone’ strategy. “Are you sure he didn’t deserve it?”

  “How does anybody deserve to get raped?” The sidewalk activist said with an uneasy laugh. It was evident from her tone that she was offended and angry by Jacob’s question, but was forced to bite back on this anger from fear that she may lose her target. Our hero had his assailant on the ropes.

  Jacob shrugged. “Maybe he dropped the soap.”

  The predator’s anger released itself in the form of a casual laugh, as she attempted to pretend she was cool in a last ditch effort to ingratiate herself to her prey. “Ha, alright. We all enjoy a good prison rape joke, but the reality is no laughing matter. When people are being raped in prison, everybody loses.”

  “Not the guy doing the raping. I’m pretty sure he wins,” Jacob said, his asshole powers at their maximum.

  With the sidewalk activist temporarily confused as to how to proceed, debating between continuing her transparent charm offensive or unleashing a torrent of self-satisfied rage, our hero manages his escape, joining back up with Lucy Fontaine, who had wisely managed to keep her head down and walk by undisturbed.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. I tried to warn you, but I forget that you’re new in town,” Lucy said as they continued to their sushi filled destination. “She’s out here all the time. You have to just avoid making eye contact and keep walking.”

  “Seriously, what is her problem? If we eliminate prison rape, then what are we going to joke about when people get sent to prison?”

  “I don’t know. I heard from somebody that her boyfriend’s in prison though.”

  “Ah, I see. So her boyfriend gets sent to prison, and she starts this anti-prison rape activism because she’s afraid he’ll find a new girlfriend on the inside.”