Im a Stud with all the Chicks
I’m a stud with all the chicks
By Anh Tu
Just another Friday night at an opening of a new movie. Chick flicks, that’s what the ladies like to see. I’m all up for it. I’m just as emotionally sensitive as everyone in this line, just like the cute girl standing near the front of the line with her college friends.
“Hi, my name is Tom Brady, and I am the New England Patriots quarterback. What’s your name little lady?”
The girl blushes and the others around her squeals in unison, rejoicing my presence. She looks to the side with one hand covering her flushed red face, sticks out a hand for me to kiss. I padded my lips on her faire skin. It is warm and smells like scented candles. The hens beside her, waiting along the barbed fences without their rooster perversely bickers in jealousy as I smile, but I was very cautious in doing so. A smile too white would break a girl’s heart. I had to be aware of the death casualties involved. That’s just how great of a man I am. I would rather be wearing my underwear inside out with a red cape and tight blue spandex, sweeping her away, flying and breaking through the ceiling at 100 miles an hour and still have her safe in my arms, but you can’t complain too much when your name is Tom Brady.
I’m just sitting on the floor with my arms wrapped around my knees waiting for the line to move. The others are just standing, towering over me, some glancing over here at the guy on his ass. Sometimes I just stare back and they would look away as if I have lasers coming out of my eyes.
It’s kind of noisy here with people talking, telling stories and telling lies to make the others arch their brows or laugh. Most the time the sound just blurs out and all I could hear are sounds bouncing off each other like the sound you hear at a bowling alley when the ball rolls on the hardwood floor; soft spread out thunder and mumbles. Sometimes I just catch a glimpse of people’s lives through their conversation. It’s kind of hard not to eavesdrop when the party is happening right next to you. They say a person’s eyes are the window through their lives, but so are their conversations.
Once in awhile when you’re waiting for something, you tend to see something that interests you. For me, its the girl near the front of the line. Sometimes you get nasty thoughts, sometimes you genuinely feel connected. I keep glancing over at her here and there. A few times she caught me staring, but just looks away as if she saw nothing. I saw it though. Her eyes. The eyes that saw me. Cat like sharps and crystal green, her long lash, trance inducing eyes knocks me out black to glowing lights. I lie there hazy with a man in black and white stripes, a balding head with gray hair, standing above me counting. 9, 8, 7, 6… I sit back up to screams and chants, dimming yellow lights and spot light glares. I quickly shake my head to phase back in. Bullets of sweat rifles out like the rounds of a Gatling gun. The referee disappears as I come to sense. A pair of female lips replaces him. Pinked and gloss, luscious and moist. It was moving up and down, forming curves and puckering with soft padding sounds. Circles in back of it, spinning, spinning to a center where the lips are, reeling me in, mesmerizing me, hypnotizing me. I want to touch it.
“Jeremy. I’m Jeremy, nice to meet you.”
Standing in front, her hand reaches out to mine, asking my name. I stand back up and shake her hand. “Hey nice to meet you too Beth.” She shook everyone’s hands. I don’t feel so special anymore. Gordon is here with her. Gordon is her date. Gordon is my friend. Gordon was my friend. That A-hole just woke me up from my dream. I didn’t see him earlier because he was waiting inline for popcorn while his girlfriend Beth was waiting inline with her friends. I reach over to shake Gordon’s hand. He was holding a bag of popcorn in the other hand. Iâ??ve never hated popcorn so much in my life before now.
“Gordon, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend man.”
“We just met last week. I saw her waiting inline with her friends and just thought I’d ask her out.”
I kick his hand. His arm flings up high, launching his extra buttered popcorn into the air.
Angry, he shoves me in the chest, trying to downsize and intimidate me. I have no fear in my body. The blood in my vein pulsates like burning oil, setting fire to a pair of pistons.
I reciprocate with a somersault kick to his chin. That sends him spinning 360 into the air and on his face. Like a raging bull, he gets up on all fours and charges at me, tackling me 50 feet away and slams me through the concession stand, where I sit covered in warm melted butter, probably tasting pretty good too. An attempted soccer kick whales towards my head, but I grab it, spin it, sent him spinning through a wall. I slowly pace towards him with my shoulders walking side by side, my feet in front one after another causing cracks on the ground with the weight of the world on my shoulder. Gordon lies there wounded in a gravel of dry wall. Debris all over his body, nearly dressed in white dust, crimson red was slowly streaming down his forehead. One arm broken, he tries to sit back up to finish the fight. I know its over. He wonâ??t be taking his Beth home tonight. I pick him up by his throat, stare him eye to eye like a ravenous hawk. Mine, sharp and quarry, his ashamed and lowered, dressed in black and blue. I throw him out the window with a single arm. Glass shatters and shards chase after him down 3 floors of the cinema. He throws out both his middle finger vowing revenge right before he smashes San Francisco’s Sidewalk of 3rd and Howard. Spider cracks crept and crept below him. He lies there quiet with his eyes wide open, staring stiff, fixated at me. I stand tall, look straight back and wipe the popcorn off my blue spandex. Crowds gather around like a colony of ants, all inquiring and fearful. The sky cries, rain fires down at tremendous speed. A sonic boom erupts and shakes the building. Dark clouds smolders what was once a clear blue night.
Squeeze. Something squeezing my arm
“Jeremy!! You saved me!!!” Her eyes fixated at me, sparkling wet puppy like and a gleeful smile. Her nose winkles and animate like a bunny. I want to kiss her on the nose. She grabs my arm tighter with both arms and rubs her head up and down against it, adoring it like a warm blanket because I am her super hero. I lift her off her feet, with my bright red cape; I carry her off into the great unknown. My teeth, my pearl whites blind the crowd like the coming of Jesus. Everyone is in awe and fascination.
The ticket master walks out adorning a black collared shirt with a logo top left. Only the greatness’ are engrave with such an emblem. His greased hair protects him from great evil that lurks around every corner. His buckteeth can cut through steel. The pimples on his face are the count of many planets he has saved; the oozing ones are the ones he has conquered. He is the Master of the Universe. He holds the key to separate us of our own reality. He has the power to create new realities and control our emotions through a giant projected portal. All it will cost you is ten dollars. Ten, fifty at some places.
“Everyone waiting for the 8 o’clock showing please line up against the wall.”
I stop shaking Gordon’s hand and sit back down. “So Beth, who are your friends over there?”