defender of the universe -- river holiday

[swing]

The proverbial wonderboy was composed of rainbow-knit caps and a fascination with the Flash ? young at heart despite the old bones that were encased in the youthful skin of survival. He was a true western tragedy, just like his daddy ? the doctor with a predisposition for an early grave. Few people could truly say that their afflictions didn?t bother them in the slightest, and River Holiday was one of those few.

Instead, he filled his worry space with paper and ink ? sketching the world as it flew before his candy apple eyes. Still a child yet in many ways already a grown man, he played Peter Pan with his own crew of lost boys (and girls) who really weren?t so lost at all any more. Los Angeles had brought out his sunny disposition and the vilified state of New York had yet to stamp it out. He was forever a hero with a story to tell in pictures instead of words.

For everyone?s sake, let?s hope this story had a happy ending.

[swing]

Street corners were always meant for shady dealings. A pink painted smoke stack jangled as the cigarette was removed from his mouth. He could've been mistaken for a Sinead O'Connor impersonator if it weren't russet hair that caught the streetlight.

"Hey."

A nod upwards at the man as he stopped. The young boy, but still taller than the smoke stack, acted as if he had on an imaginary trench coat, before taking a step forward.

"Hey."

Gravel pitch, he'd expected it. Arms jangled as he shifted his weight and set hands in his pockets.

"Y'got any..ah, y'know any..pills?"

The man laughed, and the cigarette jumped with each syllable uttered, hands moved to rest on one of the boy's shoulders.

"Sure kid, I've got some baby asprin."

"Fuck you asshole, that's not what I meant."

"Listen, how old are you kid? Why don't you just go home."

"I'm old enough."

"Yeah, it's about twelve-thirty kid, does your mom know you're up this late?"

"I don't know, do the village people know you escaped?"

"What kind of half-ass comeback is that?"

Hand lifted to grab the cigarette before dropping it to the ground to die, and he laughed. Honest to goodness laughter.

"I don't know, I was trying to think of something as lame as you insulting my age."

"Well, judging the cracks in your voice, I figured it was an easy target."

"I could take you."

The man laughed again, and shook his head.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"No, I'm not. I could kick your ass right here on the street."

"Alright then, punch me."

"What?"

"Punch me, if you can take me, then you can throw the first punch."

He was bluffing, just to see if the kid had enough balls, but what he didn't expect was for the kid to follow through. Knuckles met his jaw...hard. His head turned back, as he stood agape looking at the kid.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Why?"

"So I can tell the coroner after I beat the shit out of you."

He didn't give him a chance to answer though, because a fist was aimed straight for the kid's stomach however, he didn't hit him. River flinched, before letting out a nervous laugh.

"Holiday."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Fuck you. It's my last name anyways."

"Well, then what's your name, and hurry up with it before I decide to whoop your ass."

"River."

"Even better. Well River Holiday, you're up past your bed time, and you ought to run along."

The man who was still laughing, was turning to walk away.

"Hey asshole, what's yours?"

"Why, writin' a book?"

"No, but I want to be able to tell everyone who I sucker-punched today."

"Charlie."

[swing]

"Hi.

I just felt like writing something for my own health, in case, you know, I kick the bucket or something. It would suck, to not have some kind of memoir right? Ha ha, memoir sounds like I'm Joan Rivers or something, I'm not. We share a similar name, but that's about it. She looks like an alien! I drew a comic about her once, it was her and Elvis battling it out for the universe. I don't know, sometimes I just get carried away.

So, what was I going to do again? Yeah, write up some kind of memoir, so when I've croaked you can understand a little bit about me. Let's start off easy, with the questions you're dying to know the answer to. Like, where I grew up!

I was born in Los Angeles, I grew up there pretty much. We moved to Texas when my dad got sick, but I was like four so, I don't really remember that except, that I liked to try and climb on the cacti and my mom got mad. We moved back after my pops died, he had what I have, but we're gettin' to that.

First, I want to tell you about my mom. She's crazy, and she's had the same car since it came out. One of those nice joints- if you lived in the sixties. A VW beetle, mandarin orange and let me tell you, the thing purrs. It's old, and rusted around the edges, but I don't think she cares--it's her baby. She used to take me to school in it every day, and I remember all of the other kids' faces when I came to school--pure jealousy, and why? Because, they knew my mom let me have ice cream for breakfast and eggs for supper. She is quite possibly the coolest mom a boy could have. Oh, her name is Lilianna Starchild Holiday. I kind of think she's makin' up the middle name though. You never know...

I suppose now I should talk a little more about my dad, because he's just as much a part of this as my mom. He died when I was six of Leukemia, yeah they have treatments that can save lives now, and yeah, my dad probably would've made it. Except that he had this thing where he didn't like medical help, "It's not natural" my mom told me. He wanted to die as he was intended to, even if it meant dying from something he couldn't control. But, I mean, you can't really control death can you? It just kind of happens, one day you're here and then the next, you aren't. I always admired that about my pops, the fact that he died the way he wanted. His name was James, but everyone called him Doc. I think it's supposed to be funny, but it's not. It's rugged and partly true, Doc Holiday died from TB, so it's only proper my pops died from some disease. Y'know? It's like passing on a legend, too bad I'm following..

I have Leukemia, don't go gettin' all teary eyed on me. My intentions were to be like my pops and die naturally, but my mom wouldn't let me. I was diagnosed when I was thirteen, because my arm hurt really bad after soccer practice one day. It wasn't broken or anything, but they found the problem, I had leukemia, and since it was so far progressed, they didn't think the chemo would work. They said I wouldn't make it to my fourteenth birthday. They were half right, I made it passed my fourteenth birthday, and the chemo sent it into remission--but it didn't last. That's the funny thing about doctors and the weather people. They're always taking guesses and hoping for the best, but preparing you for the worst.

I went to highschool, it was normal. I had a good time. I played soccer, and I went to every dance even though I can't dance, it was still fun. LA is a big drug scene, for anyone who doesn't know that. Drugs mess with the medicine I'm already on, but during my last year of highschool, the only friend that hadn't started on drugs was doing it. I guess you'd call it peer pressure, but really, I was just mad that I didn't get to do what the normal kids did. Nobody knew I was a freakboy with cancer, so why not right? There's your first mistake. Er, mine, rather. I went out looking for the "candy sellers", that's the stupid name we gave them. I found some guy, in a pink shirt with bracelets smoking outside one of the clubs that everyone went to. My first reaction was, "Dude, this guy's a fuckin' flamer. He's just going to tell me that there's something for me in the alley and rape me." But, he didn't. Instead, he just laughed at me and told me to go to sleep because it was past curfew.

I hated this guy, let me tell you. I wanted to lay him out, but instead I just decked him. He was the biggest asshole I'd ever met, and he was rockin' the flame wear. I said some stupid shit to him, and he said some stupid shit to me, and somehow we wound up at Sal's diner eating waffles. I don't understand it, and I never will. Charlie's just a weirdo like that.

I only mention this because Charlie saved my life. Yeah, in that superhero kind of way, except I'd really think he was gay if he wore tights. He got off heroin and gave me bone marrow, and he knew me for like three months. What the hell is that? That, is superhero shit. If I only knew someone for three months I'd just feel bad but shrug them off. I don't know, he's never going to let me tell him thank you, so I guess if he ever reads this he'll know that he's the only reason I live. Even if that's sappy to say, it needed to be done. My queer lifetime moment is over...

So, now? I'm twenty and I go to school because I'm smart and everyone would kick my ass if I didn't. I draw comics, just doodles and stuff because I like it. Besides, you're not supposed to work a day in your life if you like what you do right? I like to draw, so I guess it's true. I make up alot of stuff just based on everyday things, it's kind of funny. I think that if you could keep your life in drawings, you'd be a happier person. I mean, you'd could look back at the expressions on your face and go, "Man, that was a great day." or, "This really sucked." I don't know, I'm just weird I guess.

I'm really into eighties stuff, so, if I did die soon, I'd make them play "Wang Chung" or "Our house." something totally fucking cheesy, so they'd be glad I died. I don't want to die, I know it sounds like I do, but when you're lying on a hospital bed for seven months you realize things. I've realized that, yeah, I'm going to die, but I'm going to live as much as I can before hand. People don't understand that, they bitch about life being so tough, but it's really fucking great, you know? Death's the thing everyone should bitch about, I mean, you're stolen away from people who'll be sad for a long fucking time, from things you've never seen, places you've never been, and people you've never met. It's all something that's worth crying over. My only goal that I haven't met yet is simply this; I want to draw the sunrise, and I want to be able to look at it, and not tell the difference between the picture and the real thing--because when I'm gone, I want my mom to look at my picture the way I'd look at that drawing, and not tell the difference.

Always,

Rebel River Stone Holiday.

The boy with too many names. "

<font color="#000000" size="1">[ June 27, 2005 07:57 PM: Message edited by: secondhand bruises ]</font>

[swing]

Pink and red construction paper littered the floor of Charlie's apartment as the wonderboy made shapes with scissors and wrote letters in detailed swirls and angles. Candy-apple greens were inches from where his seventeenth attempt lay before kneeling knees.

"Holiday...What the hell are you doing?"

"Making a valentine."

"It's the middle of the summer."

"Love doesn't need a special day."

"Have you been watching Lifetime again?"

"No. Charlie, I met someone, she's really great."

"You...what?"

Charlie nearly choked, blue were saucer wide as keys clattered on the counter top. This was a new phrase coming from the taller (yet smaller) of the two.

"I met someone."

Nonchalant as his tongue poked out the side of his mouth while finishing the last star above an i that was placed near the center of his paper heart, shoulders shrugged soon after.

"I heard you."

The paper heart was held up to the light as one eye squinted as if measuring the proportions so that each side was perfect and immaculate.

"So what's her name, then."

Charlie was inwardly wincing at the comment that just came from his mouth. He moved into the kitchen and grabbed two cokes, in case River hadn't already gotten himself one.

"Milla."

"Mee-la?"

"Yeah. She's foreign....Czechoslovacawhatever."

River shrugged his shoulders again before presenting the heart for Charlie's eyes.

"Y'think she'll like it?"

"Sure, Coke?"

River stood up and took the offered beverage with a grin, before walking towards the door and slipping on his shoes.

"I'll be back later."

[swing]

"Hey...Charlie?"

"Yeah."

"Do you...D'you.."

River was shifting and pulling at the stitching on his tuxedo shirt, he knew the question he wanted to ask, he just couldn't.

"Damnit, just ask already."

"Fine. D'you think I could use your apartment today for a few hours? With you...not in it?"

"....Yeah. "

"'Cause I really want Milla to come over and I want to make her dinners an-"

"I said yeah, kid."

Charlie chuckled, ruffled his hair and walked out the door shaking his head. Which left River in a fit of mid-air twists and turns, ecstatic as a grin sliced his face from ear to ear.

"Milla!"

He was waving her down by the bus station, the tattered fray of olive drab and messenger services was bobbing behind him, and lanky limbs worked in mechanic motion towards the woman, she smiled.

"Ree-vir."

"Come with me, I'm going to make you the dinner I promised."

A lanky limb outstretched fingers towards her, an offering that she accepted after a few minutes of hesitation and concrete pondering. She was led along a maze by a wild eyed boy in a tuxedo shirt.

"Do you like macaroni? 'Cause it's really the only thing I can cook, I think you'll like it. It's not like steak or any of that fancy stuff, but it's really filling."

He was talking over his shoulder, smiling in between syllables at a girl who couldn't understand a word he said. She smiled back though, and let out little bits of laughter as she was pulled along.

"Maca-Maca-ron-e?"

"Yes. You can call it maca-maca if you want to. It's easier than saying the whole word. "

She was pulled along into an elevator after he'd opened a series of doors for her.

"Ree-vir...."

"Yes, Milla?"

She started to open her mouth, but nothing came out except words in a language he didn't understand.
"You speak so pretty, Milla. I'm really glad you came to dinner."

He was smiling, which left her mouth in a faint sort of frown, but she kept herself silent until the bell of the elevator announced their arrival. RIver fished out keys with one hand, but held one of hers with the other.

"This is my house, you can sit down where ever you want. I have something for you."

He motioned for her to sit, and she did, upon an old couch that was River's bed. River walked towards one of the windows, and pulled out a box that sat near it, producing the immaculate heart with her name scrawled acrossed it. A wide smile was drawn on his face as he presented it to her.

"For you."

She took the offering, but her face expressed sadness.

"What's wrong?"

River dropped to the floor by her, so she wouldn't have to look up to explain, even if her explanation was one in a language he had yet to learn. She took one of his hands and gestured to the high heavens rambling on about things, but RIver just smiled faintly. Exasperated she pointed to the heart, and then she dug through her purse, pulling out her wallet, and a picture.

He nodded slowly, fragments of his smile slowly falling off of his face. She put her things back in her purse and stood heading for the door.

"Wait, Milla."

He didn't know why he had said what he did.

"You forgot this."

Offering to her his paper heart, which she looked at, before tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes, taking it, she ripped it in half. Offering him one half and taking the other before placing a kiss to his forehead and opening the door. She'd left-in a flurry of broken paper hearts and foreign apologies.

[swing]

Keys jangled and the door was unlocked along with two very distinct knuckle raps--it felt so strange to knock on his own door, to his own house.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

Charlie had a smile though, and a goofy way of saying that sentence. It was really weird to know that River was in his house, with a girl, alone. He glanced around and saw two bowls of Macaroni sitting on his table, and River sitting in the ledge of one of his windows, staring out into the city.

"No."

Charlie was putting everything together, and at the soft affirmation of the obvious, he was dumping out his pockets before crossing over to stand and stare out the same window.

"I'm sorry."

His hand shot out to rest on the boy's shoulder, but instead it just hovered--caught in space between all of the wrong things to say, and apologies for things he didn't do. River pulled up his legs, resting his chin on his knees--a silent offering for Charlie to sit if he wanted. The orange hue that burned across the city, gave sad features an ethereal glow.

"Not your fault."

Words were mumbled into his knees as that candy-apple stare threatened to burn through the glass that separated city air from his lungs.

"Come with me."

Charlie wasn't asking, he was telling. Hand that hovered was offered to the boy who's eyes turned their wrath upon it. Bangled arm and too long fingers ensnared themselves with his hand, pulling himself up, and untangling lanky limbs. He didn't ask where Charlie was leading, he followed--even if it meant the edge of the earth--or the top of the building.

"Why did we come out here, Charlie?"

Sad tones, he wasn't even going to try to sound happy when it was obvious he wasn't. Fingers were drawn up to his mouth as an arm crossed over his tuxedo shirt.

"Come over here, I'm not going to kill you, Jesus."

Charlie was folding limbs along the edge of his building that over looked the city--the air was cleaner up here, just above the smog line. River followed and sprawled out beside his best friend.

"This fucking sucks."

"Yeah."

Charlie removed the cigarette that was behind his ear, and lit it with the pack of matches that found solace in his shoe. An inhale and then an exhale, making silver clouds that weren't so far from their grasp.

"Why didn't she tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That she was in love."

"Women only tell you things on a need to know basis."

"Yeah, well she could've told me before I offered to share my maca-maca with her."

River drew himself up again on the ledge, setting his forehead in his knees so he couldn't see anything but a denim city-scape.Charlie laughed, but the sound was hollow and it mixed with ash and smoke.

"She broke my paper heart, Charlie."

He turned his head so he could look at the profile of his friend the smoke stack, just a moment before pulling out the crumpled (and tear-stained) half to show him the bleeding letters that used to spell a smile.

"At least it was paper, you can tape it back together."

"It's not going to be the same is it?"

"No."

"Is it going to hurt like this all the time?"

"For a little while."

"How long is a little while?"

"Until you find someone else to make valentines for."

"You didn't."

"No, River, I found heroin."

Charlie's jawline clenched as smoke streamed from his nose, those words left a bitter taste in his mouth, ashes were flicked from an angry thumb and left to fall fourteen stories.

"She's the best lover I ever had."

It was a moment of brutal honesty, when their gazes met. River was silent for a long time before he finally said something, quietly because he was afraid of the answer.

"Why?"

"Because I never had to worry about her sleeping with someone else, or tasting them on her lips. I didn't have to wonder if she was ever coming home, she always did. Euphoria, River, fucking euphoria is what you should feel--like your fucking heart's on fire, and you don't want it to be put out. That's what fucking love is, it's better than any drug because it doesn't fade out of your veins or leave scars. Nothing will ever fill your heart the way it does, and nothing will leave you as empty when it's gone."

He took another long drag off of his cigarette, and River was silent, and staring at his friend--for the very first time.

"I write fucking letters, fill up fucking notebooks full of what it felt like to be loved--to have it taken away. I waste so much fucking paper and effort trying to get even an ounce of that feeling I had back. I can't sleep at night, I can't fucking eat without hearing words that were whispered to me. Even fucking heroin is tainted..."

He finished his cigarette and flung the end into the expanse of sky sending it to the pavement.

"I would've done anything for her, anything at all, she shot me up with no remorse for what she was doing. She knew that every time I lit my lighter under that spoon, every time that needle neared my skin, she'd be on my mind. She fuckin' loved that I was nothing more than a pathetic junkie..."

Words were spat out like poison into the open air, as he shook his head. River shifted, and he didn't hesitate to wraps his arms around Charlie's skeleton frame.

Charlie broke before his eyes, the man that he used to idolize as indestructible leaked heartache and saline.

"How long is it going to hurt?"

"For a little while Charlie, for a little while."

[swing]

"Plllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaase?"

"No."

"Please please please please please?"

"No."

"Why do you have to ruin all of my birthday fun!"

"Because River, do you realize that the only people that are going to be down there are redneck hillrods from Katmandu bumbly fucknut. "

"Katmandu's a real place, and I do think they have any hill billies."

"Do you know why?"

"No.."

"'Cause they're all at that damned monster truck rally shovin' popcorn through the spaces where their two front teeth are supposed to be!"

"I thought it was because they were Buddhist."

"I....need a cigarette."

Charlie left River sitting on his couch, (practically boring holes into the fabric with bony fingers.) to find his pack on the counter.

"But! They have the super metal monster machina king, and four time champion there tonight! And! And! A demolition derby afterwards! You have to come, we have to go!"

River fell off the couch as he reiterated the brightly colored fliers bold print in an announcer voice which ended in a whining tone. Charlie just stared, and inhaled deep the nicotine that was needed to coat his lungs.

"Oh, so what now, my present's not good enough to keep you occupied?"

"You got me a present?"

This stopped what ever further whining that was about to erupt from doing so. River sat up on the floor and looked at his friend, who in turn, smacked his forehead.

"For chrissakes kid, do you not see that huge package on the table, in brightly colored happy birthday paper?"

"I didn't know what that was!"

"What the hell did you think it was, a bomb?"

"You never know! Besides, it could've been someone else's birthday today."

"Yeah, who else do I know named Rebel Holiday?"

"I don't know?"

"Just shut up and open it."

Charlie was losing bits of his sanity with each word shot between the two, he could feel it leaking down the back of his neck, and a hand went to wipe imaginary droplets away. River just grinned and tore into the package exclaiming words after each article was drawn from the box.

"How did you find this?!?! This is the best episode of The Flash series ever! Green Lantern's in it, and the kid flash! Oh, and this one's just got Green Lantern in it, wow!"

"Calm down kid, they're just comic books, besides you've got other stuff."

"There's more? No way!"

River was dumping the box on the floor in search for what ever else his friend had stashed inside. River was amazed to find a Flash helmet and a new messenger bag full of sketch pads and pens. He put on the helmet and immediate launched himself on Charlie.

"This is the coolest birthday ever! Thank you!"

Charlie staggered back and patted River on the back after his cigarette was (safely, soundly) set in an ashtray.

"You're uh, you're welcome kid."

River, ecstatic kept himself latched to Charlie even after his piece was said.

"Uh, River?"

"Yeah?"

"You can let go, any time."

"Not until you say we can go to the monster truck rally."

"I could just beat your ass."

"You won't."

"I'm thinkin' about it."

"If you just say yes, this could all be done with."

"No."

River was as serious as a heart attack about staying latched to his friend, and after a few more minutes, Charlie attempted to squirm free.

"Alright! Alright! We can go to your stupid rally! Just let go of me!"

"Can I wear the helmet?"

"No."

"I figured you'd say that, but it was worth a shot."

[swing]

He stared down at his hand for a long moment--the skin had sallowed out and was nearly paper thin, an IV needle found its way into that very hand. His eyes didn't move from the webbing between his thumb and forefinger where he swore that something illegible was written there....

When he was little he used to sit out in the sun with his father on their patio and just watch the formations of the clouds, with lemon twisted iced teas (His as a sippy cup, Speed Racer--he remembered it well.) and talk about the important things in life.

"That one looks like an elephant."

"It's not daddy, it's a rhinocarusorus."

"Really? I don't see any big teeth."

"They don't have those teeth. They are Curbmivores."

"Are they? Have you seen one before?"

"Yep, they make noises like grrr, and ROAR." Little fingers wiggled as he made a 'scary' face, squinting his eyes so that they were nothing more than slits.

"Okay, Rebel..I believe you, it's up to you to protect me from those monsters you know." His father chuckled faintly and shaded his eyes from the sun that found it's blazing way into his eyes.

"How?"

"By using your magic crayons, remember those crayons I gave you?"

"I don't have any magic crayons, daddy." The child looked crestfallen as he moved to take a sip from his sippy cup.

"I know.." His father leaned forward, almost conspiratorily, reaching in his back pocket, and revealing a set of crayola crayons. "A wizard gave them to me...He told me to give them to the most special boy in the whole world."

"Really?" The child's eyes went wide as he whispered his reply, reaching fingers out towards the gift.
"Yes Rebel. He told me that this boy would love to draw."

"But I don't have any paper.." Again, his hopes were crushed, but his father smiled handing him his very first sketch book.

"Will you draw me something?"

"I am going to draw you a rhinocarusorus." His small tongue was already shoved to one side as the first piece of fresh paper was attacked by black wax.

"Draw me the world, Rebel."

"It's too big." He looked up from his drawing for just a minute. "But I can try."

"Don't give up, son, someday you'll draw the perfect world I'm sure."

He'd written an idea there before his arms became to painful to raise, and now? Now he was trying to read the illegible text that was scrawled there, because he thought if he could decipher it everything would be okay. In his comics he had the perfect life--a bag full of magic crayons and the right things to say. His smile was healthy, and his eyes weren't hollow...

He had little hair left, and it made him nervous. He was certain he was going to be put in the same polyester suit that they laid his father to rest in--the one with the itchy tie, and the tacky cuff links. Instead of playing Wang Chung, his mother would probably sob over a guitar that had long been out of tune, Charlie would be there to comfort her--but who would comfort him?

"They say heaven's cryin' when it rains, son."

"Why are the angels sad daddy?"

"A good man died today."

He closed his eyes and prayed to God to let the sun rise.

[swing]

"I've been really tryyyyyyyyyin' baby. Tryin' to hold back these feelings for sooooo long, and if you feel like I feel baby."He spun around, singing into the comb in between moments of slicking back shower-fresh hair. The comb was pocketed quickly so he could raise his fingers in make-shift guns and wink.
"Then come on."

Another spin and he was grabbing at the after shave to continue singing the song at the top of his lungs into the comb that came back out of his pocket..When his favorite part of the song came on belted out the "woo" with much bravado, spinning around like a fool until he stopped at a dead halt to see Charlie leaning in the doorway.

"Go on, the song's not over."

Charlie had to yell over the music as River's face turned red.

"I..uh..I...I.." River was stammering and scrambling to put the things in the bathroom away.
Charlie just shook his head and turned the radio down.

"Hot date tonight?" A smirk from the elder when he came back, noting River's attire.

River smoothed down the Tuxedo t-shirt that was just a smidge too small for him lengthwise and lifted his chin, still red in the face.

"So, what if I am?"

"Whoa there turbo, I didn't mean anything offensive." Charlie said in between chuckles with his hands raised.

"You're just jealous." And River was shoving past him to sulk on the couch.

Charlie coughed and wafted the air in front of his face before turning out the light and continuing to torture the bean pole.

"Ach, Pepe Le Suave should tone that shit down a bit, lest the lady friend get overpowered."

"It's not cologne, it's the scent of raw man."

Charlie rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen, yanked open the fridge and pulled out a coke while River mumbled a come back from the couch.

"Yeah, okay.. raw man in a knock-off two dollar bottle maybe."

"Shut up!"

River threw a pillow at Charlie, who caught it and tossed it back laughing.

".....Is it really too much?"

"When's your date?"

"In a half an hour."

"It should diffuse by then." Charlie said whilst cracking open the can. "She got a name?"

"Yeah, but you're an asshole so I'm not telling you."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

"Whatever." Charlie just shook his head and flopped onto the couch next to him. "So.."

"So, what?"

"Is this your first da--"

"No Douchebag, it's my sixth."

"WHOA, gettin' kind of serious aren't we, Riv'?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"You haven't--"

"Maybe."

To this, Charlie set down the can and stared at his friend who was lip synching the words to Corey Hart's 'Sunglasses at Night.'

"Rebel River Stone Holiday! You bastard! You shagged that poor girl rotten, didn't you?"

"Her name is Alison, an--"

"ALISON? My little boy is all grown up!" Charlie was wiping a fake tear from his eye when he got a pillow in the face.

"You are such a homo."

"I'm not the one walking around in a midriff am I?"

To this, River looked down and scowled.

"It's not that short."

"Dude, I can see Christina Skankulara skin."

River just glared and walked away from the couch, to which Charlie sprawled in the empty space.
"It's not that short."

"Oh for chrissakes River!"

Charlie said rolling his eyes and off the couch so that he could walk over to the closet and yank out an oxford.

"If you're that worried about it, put this on."

Charlie may have been shorter, but River was skinnier so in some weird way it would all work out. River did as he was told and then dashed into the bathroom to see how he looked.

"I look like a back-up singer for Elton John."

"So? She's not going to hold it against you."

"I'm never going to get laid in this."

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing!"

"No, you distinctly used the word laid in a sentence with sexual implication."

"Stop using big words, you sound stupid."

"Don't evade the subject!"

"I'll evade your mom."

"REBEL!"

"What?! Jesus!"

"I think it's time."

"Time for what?"

"For us to have a talk about your sex-capades."

"Sex-ca-WHAT?!"

Charlie was pulling the boy out of the bathroom to sit him on a stool.

"There comes a time in every man's life when he has to--"

"Oh God, you're not going to give me the 'love handshake' bullshit are you?"

"No. If you'd ever LET ME FINISH A GODDAMNED SENTENCE, you'd understand that the decision you have to make is a ve-"

"Can you get to the point please? I need to finish getting ready."

"If you don't shut up I'm going to give you something to cover up."

River, promptly shut his mouth.

"Now....As I was saying. There comes a time in a man's life when he has to decide on the pr--"

"This is the love handshake speech."

"No, it isn't."

"Yes it is. You're going to tell me how it should be warm and invi--"

"NO. I'm go-"

"And how the w-"

"If you'd just let me fin-"

"And she will--"

"SHUT UP,? Charlie finally yelled at the top of his lungs, slamming the counter with a fist. "You need to use protection."

"For what?"

"So you don't get Ghonaherpasyphilitis spelled C-R-A-B-S and die."

"Ew. I didn't know crabs could get diseases."

"You know what? You're not getting laid. Ever."

"Sure I am! I already have."

Charlie gave him a look of incredulous proportions.

"You. Are. A. Boy. "

"So?!"

"You've never been laid."

"Sure I have."

"Oh yeah? By who."

"......."

"That's what I thought."

"YOUR MOM!"

And with that, River was sprinting for the other side of the apartment. Charlie didn't bother to run after him, because he knew that River would trip on the?

"OW!"

Pair of shoes Charlie discarded next to the couch.

"That's what happens when you lie about love handshakes."

River, just gave him the finger.

[swing]

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey loser."

"Hey asshole. Way to call me back."

"I am calling you back, duh. "

"It's been two days."

"I like to be dramatic."

"...."

The silence on the other end of the line was expected. River turned on the music in his dorm and Charlie lit a cigarette.

"Yeah, real dramatic. Anyways--what are you doing?"

"NUTTIN' CHEEEEEEEELIN' AT DA HOLIDAEEE IIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEN."

"When you learn to speak English you can talk to me."

"That's not the next line assmonkey. The next line is--"

Click.

This was a game that they seemed to play sometimes. When River was too hyper for Charlie, he hung up, had a cigarette and the boy called back. Just like now.

"YOU SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

Click.

The phone was re-dialed and Charlie called him back.

"Yeah, almost as good as your MOMMA! "

Click.

Ring. Ring.

"Shutthehellupaboutmymom. FAGAZOID!"

Click.

A period of five minutes passed before re-dial was hit.

"LOOOOOOOOOOS--"

A clearing of a throat.

"I don't think that's appropriate language for a boy your age to be engaging in."

Charlie only sounded like an old man because he practiced sounding how he felt...Save that he wasn't English.

"Who is this?"

"The person WHO WILL KICK YOUR ARSE MOTHA FUCKA!"

Click.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Heeeyyyyyyy The village people called, they want their wardrobe back BEYOTCH!"

Click.

Re-dial pushed again.

"You know, that comment didn't make sense at all. Seeing as how I've never donned a head dress or pranced around in chaps."

"SO?!"

"So, you can't use that one."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"...."

"........."

"........MY MILKSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YAAAAAAARD AND THEY'RE LIKE IT'S BETTA THAN YOOOOOOOOOURS, DAMN RIGHT! IT'S BETTA THAN YOURS! SANG IT CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA'LIEEEEEEEEEEE."

".......I refuse to take any part in the singing of Kelis."

"I COULD TEACHU BUT I'D HAVE TO CHAAAAAAARGE."

"....five......four.....three....."

"LA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH WARM IT UP!"

Click.

Ring. Ring.

"You are soooooo not fun."

"Are you done being ghetto?"

".....Sure!"

"Okay then. What's up?"

"Nothing. Just.. you know, chillaxing' with a fo'ty and my sho'ty."

"WHAT?!"

"You heard me."

"I did not hear you correctly, did you say you had a shorty?"

"Naw, I was jes' playin' witchu foo!"

"How much sugar have you had today?"

"Uhm.. Just like.. some skittles.."

"How many?"

"Three or four."

"That's not be--"

"PACKAGES AHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHA. No seriously I'm late for history see ya!"

Click.

It was times like these when Charlie just sat there staring at the receiver.

"What......the......fuck."