Play Nice

A word about the original writing found on this site

Unless otherwise noted, these are my words, ideas, thoughts and feelings. If you like them great, if you don't that's fine too.

You're welcome to quote my writing, but please make sure you include a link back to the page from which you got the material.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.
Creative Commons License



[This is where the summary would go if I'd bothered to write one.]

« Week 22Summer Dreams »
Something’s Happening Here


Something’s happening here, like all the time! I swear to God. It’s like a cross between Melrose Place and Saved by the Bell. For real! Like you got the pretty girls dating all the hot guys except with zits, you know? And speaking of zits. Did you see the one on Emma yesterday? It looked like her Bonne Bell strawberry lipgloss exploded all over her face. Like I would never have come to school looking like that. I would have told my mother I had the hugest cramps ever so I could stay home. No wonder Brad dumped her.

No, no. She’ll tell you she dumped him, but Hello! Like she’d ever dump him when every girl in school wants him. And six weeks before Prom? As if. Please! Everybody knows that if you’re that close to prom you hang on to whoever you have even if you hate them because the only people left to ask are the dorks in the band and the chess club. Shit, even the foreign exchange students have dates by now.

What do you mean how do I know? I know all right. Everybody knows. Don’t be looking at me like that. You know I had Derek lined up since the second week of school. The idiot had to go and get thrown off the football team, so that makes things hard, but I can’t worry about everything. Did I tell you my dress is an inch shorter than it was supposed to be? That fucking woman at the dress shop messed up and took it up too much. Now I have to go shopping for new shoes because the ones I have simply won’t do.

I swear. If I wasn’t sure I was going to be voted Prom Queen I’d totally skip the stupid dance. You’re so lucky you won’t be going to the Prom.


Something’s happening here tomorrow. That’s what Tommy said. I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. All I do is follow orders. You live a lot longer that way. There was this guy one time,  Ralph, before your time so you’re not likely to recall him. Now Ralph was constantly asking questions. ‘What’s he done? Why are we shaking this store down? Why the .38?’ Question after question. We all could see that Mr. G wasn’t all that happy about the questions, but Ralph couldn’t. I don’t know. Sometimes you can be so smart you’re stupid. Not that you’d know anything about that. You’re right. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Where was I? Oh yeah.

So one day Mr. G sends Ralph a message. “Be at the corner of 10th and Chester at 11 pm.” This was right after Ralph committed the most fatal of errors. It was one thing to question the big man, it was another see, to go against his wishes. And that’s what Ralph did. He’d gotten his orders to go into Joanna’s apartment (Joanna was the current Mrs. G) and steal her favorite diamond necklace. So, Ralph has to ask, “Why steal it? You gave it to her. Just take it back.” Always the one with questions and suggestions that one.

So after he gets told to shut up and just do his job, he goes to the apartment and takes the necklace. Yeah, I’m getting to the problem. He didn’t make it look like a robbery see. He had a key so he just figured he’d go in there and take the piece all nice and easy. Except that Mr. G was planning on reporting the necklace stolen. Right after the time that he figued Ralph had finished the job he had the police called, certain that the place was going to look like it had been robbed. Imagine his surprise when the cops got there and not even a cushion was out of place.

That was the last straw. Ralph, Mr. G decided, had to go. So he sent him that note. The guy was supposed to stand on the corner and one of the guys was supposed to run him over, making it look like an accident.

Except, Ralph finally wised up and started answering some of his own questions. Why would anybody set up a meeting on the busiest cross-section of the city, he must of wondered. So he never showed up.

What? Yeah, I guess I made it sound like he was dead. He might as well be. People like us, once you’re no longer in the game, life might as well be over. So just keep your mouth shut and do what you’re told.


Something’s happening here. Can you tell? I don’t want to scare you away, but I feel this connection, a bond. When I saw you for the first time I said to myself, “Finally.”

And I haven’t been wrong yet. Except, sometimes I feel as if there’s a part of you that I can’t quite get. I feel guilty for wanting to get it, because everyone needs that place. You know, the place where all the secrets and fears and insecurities live. I know that I shouldn’t want it. But knowing it and really understanding it are two different things. I want it, I want to go in there and get dirty from wading through all the dusty memories. I want to go in there and feel the chill of all your past nightmares. I want my skin to crawl when I see the anger and anguish you want to pretend never sees the light of day.

I want it even though I know that it will probably be the end of this very same connection I hold dear. Does this make me a bad person? I feel that it does. Am I wanting too much? People always tell me I want too much. But what is too much? How am I supposed to know when to stop wanting? I sit across from you and it’s too far. I sit down next to you and still I yearn. I sit on your lap and the inches between us cause me anxiety. Can you feel it? This need to own you? I’m afraid for you. Afraid that my kiss, which started out so slow and sweet, will draw you in so deep that you forget who you are and who I need you to be.

I touch your face and my fingertips tingle, my hair crackles and my breath catches. I can’t breathe from wanting so much. Do you see all of this? I’m afraid that you will and you’ll turn away, confused and disgusted. That’s why I need to get in that secret place. I need to be able to go in there and inventory your thoughts and feelings about me. For only then, will I stop yearning.

Published 07/08/03 in Writing • | Views: 2690 times | Print

1 Comments & Trackbacks

You were listening to Nada Surf as you wrote this, right?

Posted by -J.  on  07/09  at  03:31 AM

Post a comment





First time commenting? Please read the disclaimer. Thanks.

Remember me

Subscribe to comments?

Submit the word you see below:

Love it live.
Your comment will appear below as you type.