writing from
Scars Publications

Audio/Video chapbooks cc&d magazine Down in the Dirt magazine books

 

Down in the Dirt orders
Dirt Issue
Ordering with this link is for items being mailed in the USA.
If you are ordering issues to be mailed to the U.K., go to the Down in the Dirt main page for U.K. shipping.

...Future issues can be ordered in advance, to ensure that you receive a copy as soon is the issue is released.



Order this writing
in the 2009 book


Crawling
Through the Dirt



Crawling Through the Dirt
this writing is in the collection book
Ink in my Blood (prose edition)
(PDF file) download: only $4.95
(b&w pgs): paperback book $16.95
(b&w pgs):hardcover book $32.95
(color pgs): paperback book $64.95
(color pgs): hardcover book $74.95
Ink in my Blood (prose edition)
Brian’s Thing

Michael Schmidt

    Standing in line again at the QuikMart, there was a lady standing in front of Brian that got him going. Not sexually. She was ultra thin, had on a see-through top with a black bra underneath. He could see almost all of her. Very freckled. Skin just about to begin wrinkling from old age. She was moving out of her middle-ages. Breasts hardly to speak of. Buttocks non-existent.
    All that aside, the thing started to get him. She was one of those few that give him the thing. She left the line, then came back in line behind him.
    “Wanna go back up front?”
    “Oh, well,” she stammered, as she thought about how she wanted to fuck him just because he was young. “Oh, well, okay. Thank you.”
    The thing really started to get rolling. It was all flooding into his mind. Her whole life, from beginning to just a little after that moment. Her husband was cheating on her at that moment. She was off to cheat on him with some other guy. The names even came.
    When the thing hits, he has to tell it. It’s an irresistible urge and a very rare thing, and some people think he’s a god at the time and others get dangerous. But still, he had to tell it.
    “Excuse me, Miss. Claire, right?”
    “Why, why yes. Do I know you from somewhere?”
    “No. It’sÉit’s complicated. ButÉ” He often had this problem of starting it up and telling. The line moved forward. He had little time. “You see, I have this thing with some people andÉ”
    “Oh, brother. Move along, buddy. Another pick up line. I drive a Mercedes. My husband makes a six figure salary.”
    “No, no. Nothing like that. I have this thing with people that I get and I just suddenly know them. Like really know them andÉyou happen to be one of those people.”
    “What are you talking about? Get lost.”
    He decided to just let her have it.
    “Your husband is cheating on you. With uhÉa Mindy. They’re at her place right now. His name isÉBrady. Tomlinson.”
    “How dare you presume such things about my personal life. Are you stalking us? What do you want? My husband would never cheat on me!”
    “And you’re going to meet aÉCharles Schroeder. Right now. And you’ll be doing the thing today, too.”
    He took a sip of his extra big soda.
    “The nerve! The nerve!”
    “Okay, how about this. You grew up upper middle class, but your dad got laid off and you had to move into an apartment. Sold off the house. Lost the dog, too. Skipper. And your family slowly crumbled financially until your grandfather died and left your family a large sum of money and some land. So you all moved to the house out inÉWesterfield, where you went to school and was miserable. Once you were eighteen, you moved out quickly and back to the city. You bummed around, living at friend’s houses. Then, when you were old enough, you started bar hopping. That’s how you met your now husband, at a barÉ” He snapped his fingers, trying to bring it all in. “The bar wasÉChamberlain’s. Anyhow, there isn’t really an end to the story, I just pick up on these things for certain people once in a while and I just have to tell. You understand, right?”
    “Miss?” the clerk prompted. She was slack-jawed.
    She snapped out of it and paid for her Red Vines and little soda out of her three hundred dollar purse.
    “You were totally wrong about everything. I’m not going to get tangled up in whatever scam you’re playing.”
    “No scam. JustÉwhatever. I mean, I even knew the name of your childhood dog.”
    “Guesswork. You better not follow me or I’llÉI’llÉcall the cops.”
    She stormed out in her six hundred dollar heels and got into her Mercedes. He got up to pay for his refill.
    “Damn, man! Was that all true?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Damn, that was incredible! Of course there’s no way for me to know, but you got some sort of gift. How about me? What to you have on me?”
    “Not a thing, buddy. Maybe in another space, or time. I’m not sure what makes it happen.”
    “Okay. Sure. Sure.”
    He started to walk out of the place. Claire squealed out of the parking lot.
    “Hey,” the clerk said. He stopped and turned. “Where’s she going now?”
    “She’s going to try and prove me wrong and go home instead of her lover’s, but she’ll find him waiting there at her place because they had an argument yesterday over the phone and he suspected that she might not come over.”
    “You’re crazy.”
    “I know.”

    Claire pulled up her drive to see Charles’ SUV parked in front. She got out and stomped over to where he was waiting on the porch.
    “There you are! I was just going to call you!”
    “You know better than to be here, let alone parked in front of my house!”
    Charles was a deathly good-looking man and she had a hard time staying angry at him.
    “You know old Brady is over at Mindy’s right now. Relax.”
    “I know.”
    “Still mad at me?”
    She tried to keep playing the angry game, but it was quickly falling apart. As soon as they got inside, they were kissing and soon after that, were fucking on the couch.

    Brian walked slowly home, trying to shake off the last of the shivers he gets when he gets the thing, drinking his big soda and quietly laughing to himself.



Scars Publications


Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.




Problems with this page? Then deal with it...