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| Author: |
Stephen Daniel Lewis interviews himself |
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Q: What are you eating right now?
A: Celery soup.
Q: Why?
A: It costs fifty-three cents and is sort of white, so if it goes cold I can cut up bananas and pretend it is cereal and milk.
Q: If you were a zombie, what kind of zombie would you be?
A: An athletic one.
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| Submission Date: |
| 19 Feb 2008 |
Category: |
Flash fiction
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In Podcast and Chap-book
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it feels like october
She was sitting at the bar. She didn’t see me, she was calm. I could be calm too. My friend, she couldn’t be calm. She saw the girl at the bar and said, “Let’s go, I think we should leave.”
I asked her why.
She said because of the girl at the bar.
“Which girl?”
“The one with the red sweater.”
“Oh.”
“Why are you worried?” I said. “It’s a big bar.”
“Ok.”
“We’ll sit in the back.”
“Ok.”
I walked to a booth. I wanted to buy a drink but I was nervous being at the bar and I had to pee. If I walked up to buy a drink and the girl looked at me I’d piss myself. I asked my friend where the bathroom was.
“Fuck you. I want to leave now.”
“I need to piss.”
“Ok, I’m leaving. Fuck off and good night.”
She walked towards the door. I walked onto the balcony. There were only a few people. They were very drunk. I lit a cigarette and huddled on the corner close to the building and began peeing. I heard a girl directly below me scream so I finished fast and went inside.
I went to the bar and bought a whiskey sour. The girl didn’t look at me. I went back to the booth. I wanted her to look at me. I wanted her to remember nights spent in my room clogged with cigarette smoke and empty wine bottles. I wanted her to think of the scenes, so hazy she can’t clearly recall what happened but feels that they were good. She should have noticed me by the bar. I finished my drink, ate the cherry. I took a breath. I went for another.
She was talking to another girl and didn’t see me again. I walked halfway back to the booth, stopped, finished my whiskey in one drink. I didn’t eat the cherry this time, my mouth burned. I walked back to the bar. Shots. I gave her sidelong glances. Say something, I thought. I don’t know if I meant her or me. I looked directly at her. She didn’t see me again. She was ignoring me.
Staring at her, I ordered another drink. I bought something with vodka in it because the girl liked vodka. I went to her and set the glass in front of her.
She looked at me. I looked down. That red sweater was horrible. I couldn’t look at her face. I could see the ends of her black hair falling over her shoulders. I thought maybe she was laughing. What the hell is going on, I thought. I left the drink and walked onto the balcony. I searched my pockets for a cigarette. Nothing. My phone rang. I threw it off the balcony. I heard a girl’s scream below.
I walked back inside, passed the girl at the bar. She looked at me. I looked at her sweater, not her face and thought maybe she was smiling still. Or laughing. I walked outside. I walked around back. I needed my goddamn phone. It was wading in a puddle, dripping warm water. I picked it up to call someone. She/he answered “Hello?” but I wasn’t sure why I called that person so I threw my phone back on the ground. It may have been raining or maybe it was just wet under the balcony. I looked at the rows of cars lined up neatly in the alley. They were nose to end. I used to line up Hot Wheels like that when I was a kid. The streetlights shone on them, the windshields were ice blue. The light looked good reflecting on the cars that way. I thought about being a kid, about how this is almost the same thing. Cars lined up. Just bigger cars. I laughed. I thought about the girl in the bar laughing. Her ugly red sweater. I picked my phone up again and threw it at the balcony, at the bar, at her. I forgot about the cars, the blue streetlights. I started walking home.
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