Staples are out. Work is hectic.
Anyway, more photos!
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/swede1.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/swede2.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/lava1.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/lava2.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/desk.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/horns1.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/horns2.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/eyes.jpg
[edit] Oh! Also, new story. Enjoy.
The coffee was hot and pleasantly bitter in my mouth when I first noticed her. She walked into the restaurant like the voice of God commanded her onward and dressed like a whirlwind. She wore purple pants two, maybe three, inches too long but tight around the waist. Her shirt was bright pink and celebrated the 1986 National Shuffleboard Federation championships. Her hair was tied savagely into uneven pigtails sitting just behind her ears, the tips still blue from a former dye-job. She wore a large cheap looking plastic ring on her left hand and a bracelet made from little black cords around her right wrist. Her eyes darted wildly about seemingly looking for the voice that drove her walking.
She was beautiful and I was in love. I knew then with my slightly burnt tongue and belly full of egg and danish that I would never want another woman so long as I lived.
But what could I possibly say to this vision? Hello, I would like you to bear my children? No, too direct. I noticed you waking in and I felt like I just had touch your hair? No, too creepy. Duck! because the peaches are flying low tonight and my brain is burning with the age old riddles of our forefathers? No, too weird.
Still feeling a bit fragile from an experience I had at a gas station in Ohio a while back, I turned my head down and said nothing, looking only at the person who lived on the uninterrupted surface of my coffee. I bet he would talk to her. I bet he wouldnt have thought that weird thing about peaches. I bet he doesnt cum in three swift, embarrassing pumps. I bet he has, like, superpowers and shit and can fly and has a car called The Man-hunter. That would be awesome. Man, that guy is awesome. I wish I could be like him.
So worked up was I in this guys potential awesomeness that I did not even notice when the host put her at the booth directly in front of me. She sat with her back toward me and tapped out the rhythm to her own private melody with her menu on the table top. The beat slowed its frenzied pace and stopped as she followed the progress of a fly across the window to her right. Without taking her eyes off the fly she slowly pulled a magazine out of her old, silver sequined purse, rolled it and launched her attack against the fly. Luckily for the fly, it was trained in Rolled Magazine Tactical Ops and dodged the potentially life-threatening blow.
Bitch fly fucker! she hissed through clenched teeth and picked the beat back up. Her inexpert pounding on the table brought the scathing look of an old woman in the fashion equivalent of a black plastic garbage bag who was slurping away at her cream of corn soup. My love noticed the look and, making eye contact with the haggard old crone, started dancing in her place.
What a ballsy piece of work she is, I thought. I was right not to have said anything. There was no way I could compete with that sort of attitude, that wanton lust for inappropriateness. She was the man I could never be and the woman I would never have. And then she turned around.
As startled as I was, I could not help but stare into her grey-green eyes which could have torn my entire world apart with a tear. She looked around to ensure our utter privacy and pulled me closer with a come hither finger. Bringing her hand to her mouth like a child on the verge of imparting a wonderful secret, she said, Can you hear them? Can you hear the vibrations?
Well, in a sense, yes, I answered, but only because everything I hear is vibrations. Thats sort of the thing about hearing. Vibrations. You need them, you know, to hear. I am an idiot. I knew she would most certainly see through the cool faade I had put on in crude tribute to the guy in my coffee and stop talking to me. She would be so horrified by my completely stupid and condescending answer that she would get up and leave, not forgetting to slap me on the way out. And it would hurt. Or perhaps she would shatter into a million little pieces of heaven that I would cut my hands on while trying to clean up. Just maybe.
Instead, she let out a small giggle and smiled and said, No, silly. The enormous aquamarine and ash colored vibrations between me and you. Cant you see them? Cant you hear the music they make?
Is that a trick question?
No. Its so beautiful. Its the best song that hasnt been written for the best movie starring people that dont exist in the most beautiful country that has no name. Surely you can hear it?
I stopped and listened for a minute, seeing if I could hear anything. Unfortunately, all I could hear was the sounds of cooking from the back, the clink of spoon-hitting-china as the frumpy bag woman worked though her baby-puke looking soup and the soft obtrusion of the soul numbing easy listening station demoralizing the customers of the small diner from hidden ceiling speakers. I was not surprised. Im sorry, I said, the only music I hear is coming from the ceiling. And its horrible.
Hmmm she said and looked away from me in thought for the first time. I felt like my heart had been torn out like that poor bastard in the Temple of Doom and then been cast into an enormous pot of salted boiling water like some very very unlucky lobster that would make my throat swell and my heart beat irregularly and make me quite upset that I had eaten it. To my great relief, she turned back and said, I bet the guy in your coffee could hear it.
How do you know about the guy in my coffee?
How could I not know about him? Hes awesome. And he has superpowers which is really awesome.
I am so in love with you. Love. You. Me. Us. Superpowers. How the hell does she know about him? No, really, how the hell do you know about him?
Dude, hes awesome. I would be remiss in my duties as a human being if I didnt know about someone that awesome.
Oh, ok, I guess that makes sense, I said even though I felt like an utter moron for not understanding a damn thing shed said to me.
Whats your name? she asked and I told her. Thats a great name. And she told me hers. Can I come sit at your table? and she moved without waiting for an answer. She pulled my half-empty cup of coffee over to her. Where did he go?
If the surface of the coffee gets disturbed he has to hide. He explained the logic behind it to me once, but I cant remember what it was. Something about black holes and intention of discovery and the way we think we understand how light behaves. If you wait a minute hell come back. He always does.
Thats funny, all I see is some girl. Wheres the guy in the coffee?
I dont know. Here, hand that mug to me. and I waited for the liquid to settle. I can see him. Look. She leaned over the table and I got my first smell of her. She smelled faintly of cinnamon and lilac, or, at least, what I think lilac would smell like if I actually knew what lilac smelled like. It was intoxicating but elegant and wholesome at the same time. I am so in love with you.
There he is! He looks just like you!
No he doesnt. Hes way too awesome to look like me.
I think youre pretty awesome, she said and smiled. Give me your hand. I held out my left hand to her and she reached across and took it with her hands. Close your eyes.
Someone once told me or maybe I read somewhere that swearing is a lazy mans substitute for thinking. You know what I think? Fuck that. They only way to describe what happened after I closed my eyes is damn hell fuck shit crap. Damn. Hell. Fuck. Shit. Crap. It was that amazing. Suddenly, all the nonsense about ash and aquamarine made sense and I knew the secrets of the universe and I knew that I knew nothing and I knew that the dude in the coffee was really me and that I was the one that owned a car called the Man-hunter and had superpowers and could, like, fly and shit. And that I was awesome.
Holy shit, Im awesome, was all I could mutter when reality hit me with the full force of an enraged, steroid-ridden meathead whose sexuality I had called into question. As I was finally able to focus my eyes again and fully see the vibrations and hear the music, I repeated myself with a smidgen more confidence. Holy shit! Im awesome! I felt like Jesus three days after Golgotha. Like, thats right, bitches, Im back. Now what the fuck are you going to do? I think Im just going to dance around for a week and head on back up to Heaven and there aint a damn thing you can do about it. Suck it, Rome.
The guy in my coffee stirred me from my reverie and said, Dude, my work here is done. Now go forth and spread your seed throughout the world like pollen and car wax. He winked and disappeared in a blue-black ball of flame and was gone forever. I knew right then that I would miss him, but that there was a small part of him with me always.
So, are we going to go or what? she asked.
Go where? You havent even eaten yet.
Oh, I just came in to order some cheese fries and then get sick all over the floor because Im allergic to cheese.
It made an uncanny kind of sense. I was enthralled. Ok. Lets go, and without another word we were up and headed for the door. Halfway through the parking lot, the manager came out hollering at us like we were holding his infant in our hands. Drop the infant! Drop the infant! I expected him to say as he ran flailing his arms madly, his paunch swaying wildly as it experienced the first rapid motion in decades. Instead, all that came out was, The bill! The bill! and some disgusting wet choking sounds.
You should get that checked out, she told the ponderous manager.
What? You need to pay the bill.
That wet sucking sound is ugly. I think you might have a hot dog lodged somewhere in there. That just cant be good for you. He looked at her like she was from some alternate plane of reality and only here to make his life just a little more miserable than he ever thought it could become.
Anyway, more photos!
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/swede1.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/swede2.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/lava1.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/lava2.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/desk.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/horns1.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/horns2.jpg
http://s92725159.onlinehome.us/swedes/eyes.jpg
[edit] Oh! Also, new story. Enjoy.
The coffee was hot and pleasantly bitter in my mouth when I first noticed her. She walked into the restaurant like the voice of God commanded her onward and dressed like a whirlwind. She wore purple pants two, maybe three, inches too long but tight around the waist. Her shirt was bright pink and celebrated the 1986 National Shuffleboard Federation championships. Her hair was tied savagely into uneven pigtails sitting just behind her ears, the tips still blue from a former dye-job. She wore a large cheap looking plastic ring on her left hand and a bracelet made from little black cords around her right wrist. Her eyes darted wildly about seemingly looking for the voice that drove her walking.
She was beautiful and I was in love. I knew then with my slightly burnt tongue and belly full of egg and danish that I would never want another woman so long as I lived.
But what could I possibly say to this vision? Hello, I would like you to bear my children? No, too direct. I noticed you waking in and I felt like I just had touch your hair? No, too creepy. Duck! because the peaches are flying low tonight and my brain is burning with the age old riddles of our forefathers? No, too weird.
Still feeling a bit fragile from an experience I had at a gas station in Ohio a while back, I turned my head down and said nothing, looking only at the person who lived on the uninterrupted surface of my coffee. I bet he would talk to her. I bet he wouldnt have thought that weird thing about peaches. I bet he doesnt cum in three swift, embarrassing pumps. I bet he has, like, superpowers and shit and can fly and has a car called The Man-hunter. That would be awesome. Man, that guy is awesome. I wish I could be like him.
So worked up was I in this guys potential awesomeness that I did not even notice when the host put her at the booth directly in front of me. She sat with her back toward me and tapped out the rhythm to her own private melody with her menu on the table top. The beat slowed its frenzied pace and stopped as she followed the progress of a fly across the window to her right. Without taking her eyes off the fly she slowly pulled a magazine out of her old, silver sequined purse, rolled it and launched her attack against the fly. Luckily for the fly, it was trained in Rolled Magazine Tactical Ops and dodged the potentially life-threatening blow.
Bitch fly fucker! she hissed through clenched teeth and picked the beat back up. Her inexpert pounding on the table brought the scathing look of an old woman in the fashion equivalent of a black plastic garbage bag who was slurping away at her cream of corn soup. My love noticed the look and, making eye contact with the haggard old crone, started dancing in her place.
What a ballsy piece of work she is, I thought. I was right not to have said anything. There was no way I could compete with that sort of attitude, that wanton lust for inappropriateness. She was the man I could never be and the woman I would never have. And then she turned around.
As startled as I was, I could not help but stare into her grey-green eyes which could have torn my entire world apart with a tear. She looked around to ensure our utter privacy and pulled me closer with a come hither finger. Bringing her hand to her mouth like a child on the verge of imparting a wonderful secret, she said, Can you hear them? Can you hear the vibrations?
Well, in a sense, yes, I answered, but only because everything I hear is vibrations. Thats sort of the thing about hearing. Vibrations. You need them, you know, to hear. I am an idiot. I knew she would most certainly see through the cool faade I had put on in crude tribute to the guy in my coffee and stop talking to me. She would be so horrified by my completely stupid and condescending answer that she would get up and leave, not forgetting to slap me on the way out. And it would hurt. Or perhaps she would shatter into a million little pieces of heaven that I would cut my hands on while trying to clean up. Just maybe.
Instead, she let out a small giggle and smiled and said, No, silly. The enormous aquamarine and ash colored vibrations between me and you. Cant you see them? Cant you hear the music they make?
Is that a trick question?
No. Its so beautiful. Its the best song that hasnt been written for the best movie starring people that dont exist in the most beautiful country that has no name. Surely you can hear it?
I stopped and listened for a minute, seeing if I could hear anything. Unfortunately, all I could hear was the sounds of cooking from the back, the clink of spoon-hitting-china as the frumpy bag woman worked though her baby-puke looking soup and the soft obtrusion of the soul numbing easy listening station demoralizing the customers of the small diner from hidden ceiling speakers. I was not surprised. Im sorry, I said, the only music I hear is coming from the ceiling. And its horrible.
Hmmm she said and looked away from me in thought for the first time. I felt like my heart had been torn out like that poor bastard in the Temple of Doom and then been cast into an enormous pot of salted boiling water like some very very unlucky lobster that would make my throat swell and my heart beat irregularly and make me quite upset that I had eaten it. To my great relief, she turned back and said, I bet the guy in your coffee could hear it.
How do you know about the guy in my coffee?
How could I not know about him? Hes awesome. And he has superpowers which is really awesome.
I am so in love with you. Love. You. Me. Us. Superpowers. How the hell does she know about him? No, really, how the hell do you know about him?
Dude, hes awesome. I would be remiss in my duties as a human being if I didnt know about someone that awesome.
Oh, ok, I guess that makes sense, I said even though I felt like an utter moron for not understanding a damn thing shed said to me.
Whats your name? she asked and I told her. Thats a great name. And she told me hers. Can I come sit at your table? and she moved without waiting for an answer. She pulled my half-empty cup of coffee over to her. Where did he go?
If the surface of the coffee gets disturbed he has to hide. He explained the logic behind it to me once, but I cant remember what it was. Something about black holes and intention of discovery and the way we think we understand how light behaves. If you wait a minute hell come back. He always does.
Thats funny, all I see is some girl. Wheres the guy in the coffee?
I dont know. Here, hand that mug to me. and I waited for the liquid to settle. I can see him. Look. She leaned over the table and I got my first smell of her. She smelled faintly of cinnamon and lilac, or, at least, what I think lilac would smell like if I actually knew what lilac smelled like. It was intoxicating but elegant and wholesome at the same time. I am so in love with you.
There he is! He looks just like you!
No he doesnt. Hes way too awesome to look like me.
I think youre pretty awesome, she said and smiled. Give me your hand. I held out my left hand to her and she reached across and took it with her hands. Close your eyes.
Someone once told me or maybe I read somewhere that swearing is a lazy mans substitute for thinking. You know what I think? Fuck that. They only way to describe what happened after I closed my eyes is damn hell fuck shit crap. Damn. Hell. Fuck. Shit. Crap. It was that amazing. Suddenly, all the nonsense about ash and aquamarine made sense and I knew the secrets of the universe and I knew that I knew nothing and I knew that the dude in the coffee was really me and that I was the one that owned a car called the Man-hunter and had superpowers and could, like, fly and shit. And that I was awesome.
Holy shit, Im awesome, was all I could mutter when reality hit me with the full force of an enraged, steroid-ridden meathead whose sexuality I had called into question. As I was finally able to focus my eyes again and fully see the vibrations and hear the music, I repeated myself with a smidgen more confidence. Holy shit! Im awesome! I felt like Jesus three days after Golgotha. Like, thats right, bitches, Im back. Now what the fuck are you going to do? I think Im just going to dance around for a week and head on back up to Heaven and there aint a damn thing you can do about it. Suck it, Rome.
The guy in my coffee stirred me from my reverie and said, Dude, my work here is done. Now go forth and spread your seed throughout the world like pollen and car wax. He winked and disappeared in a blue-black ball of flame and was gone forever. I knew right then that I would miss him, but that there was a small part of him with me always.
So, are we going to go or what? she asked.
Go where? You havent even eaten yet.
Oh, I just came in to order some cheese fries and then get sick all over the floor because Im allergic to cheese.
It made an uncanny kind of sense. I was enthralled. Ok. Lets go, and without another word we were up and headed for the door. Halfway through the parking lot, the manager came out hollering at us like we were holding his infant in our hands. Drop the infant! Drop the infant! I expected him to say as he ran flailing his arms madly, his paunch swaying wildly as it experienced the first rapid motion in decades. Instead, all that came out was, The bill! The bill! and some disgusting wet choking sounds.
You should get that checked out, she told the ponderous manager.
What? You need to pay the bill.
That wet sucking sound is ugly. I think you might have a hot dog lodged somewhere in there. That just cant be good for you. He looked at her like she was from some alternate plane of reality and only here to make his life just a little more miserable than he ever thought it could become.
VIEW 15 of 15 COMMENTS
gadget:
what about that cheese that comes with the soft pretzels nubs at the movies? I remember when i went to the movies down on 309 the cheese was a little bit spicy. I LOVED that cheese. MOTHERFUCKING POPUPS. JEEZ. can't a girl type a comment. COME ON!
deceptiviewfilm:
interesting story.