Wednesday, November 17, 2004
The last of chapter seven, unless there is a tiny bit more later of course
Xodiac caught herself staring at Marty’s butt as he bent over his CDs muttering to himself. She looked away, trying to be polite, hoping he wouldn’t notice and then realized that she had nothing to lose by letting him know she thought he was cute. This whole sleep with someone on the first date thing might have potentials she’d never considered. It was oddly freeing to think she could do pretty much whatever she wanted to and not have to look the guy in the eye ever again. She could burst into a heartfelt rendition of Stars and Stripes Forever right during the act itself and what was the worst that could happen? Nothing really as far as she could tell. She was home free.
Marty turned around and held his hand out to her. “Would you care to dance?”
She started to say no and then remembered her new creed. So what if she felt gawky and uncoordinated because she didn’t have to impress him. She was already in his house and the sex was sure to come along. It was just a matter of time and she was enjoying waiting to see exactly how it all played out.
Marty hit the play button on his stereo and Bob Marley started to sing. Xodiac stepped into Marty’s arms and sighed as he held her close to his chest. This was nice. He was warm and he really did smell awfully nice. She started singing along. “Flintstone Rock, oh oh Flintstone Rock.”
Marty pushed her away and held her at arm’s length. “What the hell is that?”
“What the hell is what?”
“What are you singing?”
“I’m singing along.”
“With what, pray tell?”
Xodiac was getting a little flustered. She’d never actually seen anyone grind their teeth and talk at the same time. She was vaguely worried about the safety of his tongue. “With the song, the Bob Marley song, Flintstone Rock.” She stepped back because she suddenly thought he might shoot lasers out of his eyes and melt her on the spot.
He spoke in a clear, cold voice. If his voice had been a winter day all the animals would have dropped dead on the spot from dehydration and hypothermia. “It’s called Trenchtown Rock. Not Flintstone. Trenchtown. Say it.”
“It.” She stepped back further and fell onto the couch. He was furious. If Glenda had come into the room with her huge guns right after being called fat by an entire busload of supermodels she still would have looked calmer, saner and friendlier than Marty looked.
“Say Trenchtown Rock.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re a little weird and creepy? I’m going now, I’d say it’s been a nice evening but I’m afraid the last few minutes spoiled all that.”
Marty shook himself. He turned away from her, ran his hands over his face, turned off the stereo, took a deep breath and gave her a charming smile. “I’m sorry, I’m not really like that. I’m too far into my role in the show, that’s all. Let’s just scratch the last few minutes, all right?”
Xoda really wasn’t sure. Actors could be strange that was true but was this guy truly strange or just acting out a part? She reached into her purse and pulled out her key chain with the little can of pepper spray. “All right Marty, you sit over there for a little bit while I think.”
He sank into the chair. “What is this, hostage negotiation?”
“No,” she said. “And it’s not going to be.”
“You aren’t one of those whacky chicks are you?”
“Please, how is anyone supposed to answer that question? First of all it’s an insult and secondly there is no good answer. Either you think I’m crazy or you think I protest too much. The point here is that you are the one who is acting crazy anyway, so why in the hell do I suddenly have to prove myself?” She was pacing now as she talked, waving the pepper spray can in the air. Men could be so irritating sometimes. Sheesh!
“All right, all right, take it easy with that thing. I can’t help it if I really care about music. Don’t you appreciate that I’m passionate?”
“Sure, passionate is good but Jeffrey Dahmer was pretty passionate and I’ve always been glad I never met him.”
“You weren’t his type, trust me. Don’t you have something that you really, really love? That tears you up inside when someone messes with it, disparages it, tarnishes it in any way?”
Xodiac stopped and thought. Did she? Maybe that was the problem with her finding her niche in life. She had no great love of anything besides peace and quiet and she was pretty sure that didn’t count. “Look,” she said. “I love music too. I even love Bob Marley. Admittedly we had our little differences in the beginning but we sorted them out.”
Marty became very still, staring at her in the way she imagined a cobra stared at a mongoose right before the mongoose went off to the great cobra hunting grounds in the sky. “I’m listening,” is all he said.
“I heard the name Marley and the Wailers but I never saw the name spelt out. I really didn’t get it. I thought it was Whalers. I used to be very active for various environmental causes when I was a child. The only one I really kept up was the plight of marine mammals. I love them. I couldn’t get behind music that was about killing these beautiful, intelligent, endangered people who happen to not look exactly like humans.” She looked at Marty. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Go on,” he said.
“When someone said their music wasn't about killing whales I still thought they were insensitive to the plight of the marine mammals. What kind of barbarian calls himself a whaler when he’s not? I couldn’t decide if that was worse or better. By the time I figured out that Mr. Marley would likely never hurt a whale it was too late, he was dead and now I can’t apologize.”
Marty got out of his chair and advanced on her, his arms out in the classic strangulation pose. “That is the stupidest, most offensive story I have ever heard.”
“Oh get real,” she said as she climbed onto the back of the couch. “You must be the biggest, most sheltered baby in the world if you really think that. Erk!” She kicked at his hands and then, he grabbed one of her feet, she held the spray in front of him. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
"Give me that, you little fool, before you hurt someone.” He grabbed for the can and she let him have it, right up the nose. When she was quite sure that he was busy rolling around on the floor, screaming, crying and clutching his face, she got her purse and marched out of the apartment, dignity intact.
Marty turned around and held his hand out to her. “Would you care to dance?”
She started to say no and then remembered her new creed. So what if she felt gawky and uncoordinated because she didn’t have to impress him. She was already in his house and the sex was sure to come along. It was just a matter of time and she was enjoying waiting to see exactly how it all played out.
Marty hit the play button on his stereo and Bob Marley started to sing. Xodiac stepped into Marty’s arms and sighed as he held her close to his chest. This was nice. He was warm and he really did smell awfully nice. She started singing along. “Flintstone Rock, oh oh Flintstone Rock.”
Marty pushed her away and held her at arm’s length. “What the hell is that?”
“What the hell is what?”
“What are you singing?”
“I’m singing along.”
“With what, pray tell?”
Xodiac was getting a little flustered. She’d never actually seen anyone grind their teeth and talk at the same time. She was vaguely worried about the safety of his tongue. “With the song, the Bob Marley song, Flintstone Rock.” She stepped back because she suddenly thought he might shoot lasers out of his eyes and melt her on the spot.
He spoke in a clear, cold voice. If his voice had been a winter day all the animals would have dropped dead on the spot from dehydration and hypothermia. “It’s called Trenchtown Rock. Not Flintstone. Trenchtown. Say it.”
“It.” She stepped back further and fell onto the couch. He was furious. If Glenda had come into the room with her huge guns right after being called fat by an entire busload of supermodels she still would have looked calmer, saner and friendlier than Marty looked.
“Say Trenchtown Rock.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re a little weird and creepy? I’m going now, I’d say it’s been a nice evening but I’m afraid the last few minutes spoiled all that.”
Marty shook himself. He turned away from her, ran his hands over his face, turned off the stereo, took a deep breath and gave her a charming smile. “I’m sorry, I’m not really like that. I’m too far into my role in the show, that’s all. Let’s just scratch the last few minutes, all right?”
Xoda really wasn’t sure. Actors could be strange that was true but was this guy truly strange or just acting out a part? She reached into her purse and pulled out her key chain with the little can of pepper spray. “All right Marty, you sit over there for a little bit while I think.”
He sank into the chair. “What is this, hostage negotiation?”
“No,” she said. “And it’s not going to be.”
“You aren’t one of those whacky chicks are you?”
“Please, how is anyone supposed to answer that question? First of all it’s an insult and secondly there is no good answer. Either you think I’m crazy or you think I protest too much. The point here is that you are the one who is acting crazy anyway, so why in the hell do I suddenly have to prove myself?” She was pacing now as she talked, waving the pepper spray can in the air. Men could be so irritating sometimes. Sheesh!
“All right, all right, take it easy with that thing. I can’t help it if I really care about music. Don’t you appreciate that I’m passionate?”
“Sure, passionate is good but Jeffrey Dahmer was pretty passionate and I’ve always been glad I never met him.”
“You weren’t his type, trust me. Don’t you have something that you really, really love? That tears you up inside when someone messes with it, disparages it, tarnishes it in any way?”
Xodiac stopped and thought. Did she? Maybe that was the problem with her finding her niche in life. She had no great love of anything besides peace and quiet and she was pretty sure that didn’t count. “Look,” she said. “I love music too. I even love Bob Marley. Admittedly we had our little differences in the beginning but we sorted them out.”
Marty became very still, staring at her in the way she imagined a cobra stared at a mongoose right before the mongoose went off to the great cobra hunting grounds in the sky. “I’m listening,” is all he said.
“I heard the name Marley and the Wailers but I never saw the name spelt out. I really didn’t get it. I thought it was Whalers. I used to be very active for various environmental causes when I was a child. The only one I really kept up was the plight of marine mammals. I love them. I couldn’t get behind music that was about killing these beautiful, intelligent, endangered people who happen to not look exactly like humans.” She looked at Marty. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
“Go on,” he said.
“When someone said their music wasn't about killing whales I still thought they were insensitive to the plight of the marine mammals. What kind of barbarian calls himself a whaler when he’s not? I couldn’t decide if that was worse or better. By the time I figured out that Mr. Marley would likely never hurt a whale it was too late, he was dead and now I can’t apologize.”
Marty got out of his chair and advanced on her, his arms out in the classic strangulation pose. “That is the stupidest, most offensive story I have ever heard.”
“Oh get real,” she said as she climbed onto the back of the couch. “You must be the biggest, most sheltered baby in the world if you really think that. Erk!” She kicked at his hands and then, he grabbed one of her feet, she held the spray in front of him. “Stop or I’ll shoot!”
"Give me that, you little fool, before you hurt someone.” He grabbed for the can and she let him have it, right up the nose. When she was quite sure that he was busy rolling around on the floor, screaming, crying and clutching his face, she got her purse and marched out of the apartment, dignity intact.
