finally almost done with The Stings Don't Hurt So Bad When You're Busting Down The Beehive. Started work on it again last week for the first time in two years and it's almost complete. Editing and adding some things now.

Will post and keep up for a couple days before taking down and hoping to get published somewhere, or will just self publish and sell if anyone wants.

Your choice.

Excerpt #2 from: The Stings Don't Hurt So Bad When You're Busting Down The Beehive

 

 

 

Today at work behind the deli counter, I saw a forty year old man with a tan round face examining the quality of a box of glazed donuts.

He was wearing a black t-shirt that said: “I can suck dick better than any girl on this planet!”

The “suck dick” was written in rainbow lettering.

A tall bald man with a shaved head in a beige winter coat wiggled his way through produce until he was next to the guy who can suck dick better than any girl on the planet.

He reminded me of a construction worker, the bald guy.

He had to be.

His hands were large and calloused.

Permanent dirt glued in between the fingernails.

I thought about talking to one of them, but I always get nervous around celebrities.

I had a question to ask.

The man who can suck dick better than any girl on the planet put the box of donuts back on the table that serves as our bakery—our store doesn’t have an in-store bakery, which means all of the baked goods are brought in from the corporate factory bakery, put on the table in front of the deli, and marked “fresh.”

“These donuts look like shit! They’re already hard as fuck!” he said to the construction worker while moving his hands in a circular motion.

“Yeah! And for $ 3.99? Rather just go to Dunkin Donuts. Ya know? They’re made by those Indians, but at least they’re made daily.” the construction worker said to the guy who can suck dick better than any girl on the planet.

The construction worker giggled as he grabbed the guy who can suck dick better than any girl on the planet’s left ass cheek through acid washed jeans with one of his large calloused hands.

“Let’s go babe!”

“Alright.”

They disappeared around the corner like every customer does, but they were not like every customer because they were smiling, giddy, hand-in-hand.

The question I wanted to ask was: “Is it really all about oral sex or is there something else to it?”

Because they were the happiest couple I had ever seen so far in my entire life.



 

 

Excerpt #1 from: The Stings Don't Hurt So Bad When You're Busting Down The Beehive

 

“This is going to be a significant moment. A change!”

Fuck that.

I am standing on the porch smoking a cigarette behind the crowd of people gathered on the stairway.

Mel is in the street about to symbolically release an orange birthday balloon into the sky.

Her hand holds the purple string attached to the bottom of the balloon.

She looks uncomfortable: shoulders hunched, face frozen in an awkward expression like a cartoon ice cream freezer pop.

Her roommate lights her up with flash photography.

“Dude, ____ this is going to be a real fucking significant. Like a breath of fresh air or something. And I have documented the event as it occurred.”

“Yeah!” someone says.

“Go ____!” someone else says.

Alone and observing, I remembered something my third grade teacher said about the ramifications of releasing balloons into the air. She said they have the potential to pop over the ocean and kill a whale.

Rubber lodged in the blowhole.

My third grade teacher is dead because of a brain tumor, and I never really liked my third grade teacher—a full year of lunch detention.

Her roommate turns around and lights up the crowd kidnapping another moment in time.

“Dude these photos are going to come out so fucking great! Yo, did I tell you guys that I’m going to be doing a photo shoot in Philly for _____ Magazine sometime next month? It’s going to be so fucking rad man. I mean I already did a shoot with some porn stars, but this could mean the big time.”

I think about what constitutes the “big time” for her roommate and think about its relevance.

Mel is still standing in the street holding a balloon and looking uncomfortable.

Real uncomfortable.

The honest kind of uncomfortable which you see in high school locker room showers.

I think about a car coming around the corner too fast and hitting her on the hip, her doing a backflip, and landing on her feet, looking around to see if we all saw what had just happened.

I think about cutting off her roommate’s tongue, gluing it to his forehead, and calling him a unicorn for the rest of the night, while someone else took photos to document this moment in time.

Her hand let’s go and the balloon hovers upwards following a path of ascension.

Snap.

“WOOOOO!” someone says.

“Yeah!” someone else says.

Flash.

I think about a whale dying.

I think about shooting the balloon down before it disappears, and ruining the whole moment.

Mel reaches the sidewalk, newly baptized.

Still uncomfortable.

I think about how I am a piece of shit, and a horrible person who should drown in a bath tub of chocolate pudding.

So pointless.

(BTW: That magazine that contacted him was actually a fraud scam based out of Philly.)

almost done with The Stings Don't Hurt So Bad When You're Busting Down The Beehive.

I'll post an excerpt tonight and another tomorrow.

Stay Brutal!

 

i decided that i am never going to finish my first novella, How Have You Been?, so i decided to post it because i doubt i will ever formally publish it. i wrote it two years ago for my senior project to graduate from burlington college.

it is based on events that took place over my 2010 winter break in wilkes-barre, pennsylvania with people who i don't even talk to anymore minus carrie, my mom, and my grandparents.

i am going to post more of my creative nonfiction pieces and poetry i wrote in college + the pictures i have been drawing recently.

they are mostly of eyeballs and faces and will be for sale.

and finally, i have recently been recieving really kind words about my writing from a couple of people, which has given me the motivation to get back to work on my second novella called The Stings Don't Hurt So Bad When You're Busting Down The Beehive.

i got rejected a month ago and it made me stagnant because im a pussy. i started second guessing myself, stop writing, and sat on the couch every night i got home from work ruining my brain with reality tv shows and infomercials. num and faded.

to those people, and the people who read this blog, thank you for making me want to write again.


especially james, brittany, carrie, ivan, and megan.


i'll keep everyone posted. i'll try not to be a failure.


STAY BRUTAL!

-mv