This is us. 2nd world 100th generation. We are useless kids in the back seats of cars kissing each other in places God wouldn't imagine. I told Clarice, "Honey, you don't know a thing about love." And she laughed and continued to paw at Brian while I stuck my head out the car window, the air cutting my face. I pretended to be blind. Oh, she was just a sheltered girl and maybe he was too beautiful to resist but it hurt me that she shouldn't tell the difference between love & sex. Well, maybe I'm too old or too naive to know what the hell I'm talking about. I picture Scottish castles and princes in dark blue robes and black hair who hold you so-so-softly, not drooling boys with screaming erections that was so desperately to FILL something and don't care about Cinderella. Clarice moans in
the back seat as his hand slides downdown and I turn towards the window again and start humming "Bohemian Rhapsody" softly to myself. Tom in the driver's seat smiles, "Don't worry, they know what they're doing." Clarice looks at me and giggles, "Yeah, don't be such a prude." I sigh and look at the landscape flying by, the road that reminds me of My Own Private Idaho and right now I feel like River Phoenix. Brian teases Clarice, "Come on, baby, cum for me," and she spills her juices onto his hand and he laughs 'cuz he tames her so easily and now she's purring against his chest. He just laughs. Tom's paying attention to this road and I'm afraid it's never going to end. We're just going to keep on driving forever, me with my dreams of love and Freddie Mercury, Clarice and Brian fooling around in the back seat, and Tom oblivious to it all. Clarice opens her bright-blue eyes at me and smiles with satisfaction. Brian has stopped laughing and stares quietly out the window, his hand laying on her breast and rubbing it gently. The whole scene has changed now. Everything's changed. I remember me and Clarice at the school dance in 7th grade with the boys just walking past us to dance with the pretty girls in the tight sweaters. I cringe looking back on it. Everything's changed. A few years later here we are on this road that spills its nasty seed all over me. I gotta stop dreaming and learn to fly.
Fiction » General Rated: M, English, Angst, Words: 429, Published: 5/1/2001