I had a pair of socks right here just a minute ago. I put them down ... then what did I do? I picked up the phone. It was ringing, I remember that. I answered it. There was a woman on the other end of the line. She said her name was Pauline. I don't know anyone named Pauline. She said she wanted to suck me off. A prank? I suppose.
But she said "No, I'm real, baby. Go look out your window." I stood up and walked over to the window in my bedroom on the second floor. I opened the blinds and looked down at the street below. There was a woman on a phone waving at me. She had high red hair, poofy and wavy, and wore lots of makeup. She was topless with ample augmented breasts. She wore a tight pink skirt. She yelled. I couldn't make out what she said, though. I opened the window. "I will blow you right now if you come down to the street!"
What the fuck? Who is this fucking woman?
"Come on, baby. I'm not a hooker. I met you at that party earlier tonight, remember?"
No. No, I don't remember. I don't remember because I didn't go to a party earlier tonight. I was looking for my socks, looking to get dressed and go out.
"At Daniel's place. Remember? You kissed me next to the keg when that other guy puked all over that girl who was passed out?"
Nope. Not at that party. I went downstairs and walked outside. Goofy giggled and hopped a little. No, stay back, crazy. Not humping you on my front lawn, ok?
"Hey, you're not Dez. You're cute, though. Got any alcohol?"
"No, I don't have any alcohol. I don't have any socks on, either. I can't find my socks."
"That's weird. No shirt, no shoes, no service."
"Yeah, I have no shoes and you have no shirt."
"That's true. Guess we'll have to serve ourselves."
"I wasn't at your party. I don't know you. How'd you get my number?"
"Come on, sweetie, don't ask silly questions. Let's just party, ok?"
"No, not ok. I'm not partying with you. I don't know you, you're standing in the middle of the street hammered without a top. Where the fuck did you come from?"
"I was just walking. I was going that way." She pointed her arm straight out and twirled in a circle, laughing. "I'm having so much fun tonight!"
"I can see that, but it's a little dangerous to just wander around the streets at night drunk without a top, don't you think?"
"I think you're fucking boring. I'm going to find someone more fun, asshole." She turned, walked across the street, and then around the block out of sight.
I walked back to the front door. It had closed behind me. I tried the knob. Locked. I didn't have a key on me. I had no socks. Shit.
I ran across the street and around the block. Red was sitting on the sidewalk with her back resting against the side of a building. She looked up at me as I approached. "What do you want?"
"I locked myself out of my place."
"You're a stupid fuck, aren't you?"
"Maybe."
"No, you are. Let's just leave that be and get on with this."
"Get on with what?"
"With me breaking into your place to let you inside."
"What?"
"You have a better idea?"
"No. I don't have any ideas, actually."
"Well then?"
"Okay. Why not?"
"Cool."
We walked back over to my place, I without socks or shoes and she without a top. And with the sexiest little pink skirt. And pink high heels to boot. I hadn't noticed those before. They gave her a good two inches in height, bringing the top of her head up to my cheekbones. We stopped at the sidewalk at the edge of the yard in front of my house. She looked it over, first floor and up. She walked around the right side of the house to the fence blocking the back yard from public access. Unless a person was willing to climb the fence, which Pauline clearly was. Impressive in high heels--she didn't take them off. I followed her up and over.
When we got around back she walked up the wooden stairs to the balcony. She tried the sliding door to the kitchen. It was locked. She looked over at the window above the kitchen sink. With some difficulty, she removed the screen. She pressed her hands hard against the window and pushed upward. The window slid. Pauline took off her heels, placed her hands on the sill, and pushed herself up through the window. I heard dishes clanking and then the "whump" of her landing on the floor after dropping from the counter. The door slid open and Pauline peeked her head outside. "Ta Da!" I clapped and gave a cheer.
I handed Pauline her heels as I stepped inside. She asked for a bathroom. I pointed to the hallway leading from the kitchen and told her it was the first one on the right. I went the other direction through the dining room into the foyer and up the stairs. I used the toilet in the master bath and grabbed a hoodie from my dresser. I skipped downstairs and found Pauline in the kitchen bent over rummaging through the fridge.
"You don't have any beer or wine. I looked through the cupboards and there's no alcohol at all."
I handed her my hoodie. She took it and put it on. "Thanks."
I walked over to the ceramic cookie jar in the shape of a cartoon baby bear on the counter. All bright colors: bear with a body of ruby red fur, a canary yellow face, black eyes, white diaper, and a blue hat. I removed the blue hat, reached into the cookie bear, and retrieved a baggie of weed. I walked into the pantry with my baggie and returned with a bong. This time Pauline clapped and gave a cheer.
The water was fresh so I loaded a bowl. I offered Pauline the first hit. She puffed for a bit, collected the combustion, pulled away while covering the bong, and exhaled. She repositioned herself, pulled the bowl serving as the carb, and sucked in a lungfull of smoke. And held it. And held it a little longer ... iron lunging it ... damn, woman, I've got a quarter, don't fucking kill yourself!
She released a cloud of smoke. I saw her face through the lingering dust, her eyes red and watering, dazed. She was teetering a bit, tilting a little more heavily to the left, but in a weird way, the sort of way that seems like an optical illusion, a way that made me think, "How is she not falling over? It's like she's selectively using a mismatch of muscles that is providing a sense of balance, in a way, but not in any way like a human being or, really, any mammal I've ever seen. Her right calf seems to be flexed while her right quad muscle is taking the night off, both of her hamstrings appear to be functioning, her left quad seems active, her left calf seems in and out of it, her neck doesn't appear to realize it's attached to this body, the arms sometimes work as balancing appendages but then move as if they are conspiring to collapse her body in a heap on the floor, and her torso's nothing but a jellyfish boiled noodle dancing and swaying to a rhythm I've never before heard."
Not a single cough, though. Woman has some lungs. Pauline steadied herself and looked at me. The haze had mostly dissipated. She pointed a finger vaguely in my direction and shook it a bit. I walked over and took the bong from her. Amazing she never dropped it or spilled a drop. I lit it and started puffing. Pauline's finger was still wagging as I took a hit. I held in the smoke as she spoke.
"The dilemma of being human comes from being able to do so much more than we are allowed to try. I want to recreate the world. I want a singing world. I want a world where everyone sings everywhere they go."
I exhaled and coughed a bit. "I agree. The world needs to become like that. But there are places that are like that right now. Holland, for instance."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I lived there for a bit and every day--morning, afternoon, evening, and even deep into the night--there were people walking or biking by my apartment singing, whistling, and even playing instruments. They're making music out in public all the time over there. Always spreading that spirit, that charm."
"Sounds lovely."
"It is."
"How come it's not like that here?"
"There are a lot of reasons, I suppose, but I don't know how it all works together to suck the life out of a people in one place while things come together in a way to liberate a people in another. The Dutch have some advantages we don't have. And they've made better choices as a people, as a country. It seems they value a high quality of life more than we do. It shows in their government and it shows in the way the people live their lives."
"Wow. That's heavy."
"Is it?"
"I don't know, really. I'm drunk and stoned. You wanna fuck?"
I thought for a second about my socks, but then I just said "Sure. Why not?" I mean, socks are socks. She's a woman. Figure it out.
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