This story actually started out as an f'ed up dream I had one night and I immediately began writing it down cause I thought is was hilarious. (I hope it's not just me).
I should just warn you that this is a work in progress so it may not quite go the way it was showing at the start. Maybe someday if I feel like it I may publish it as a work in all it's glory, but for now it's just pure silliness.
Enjoy!
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Three Great Friends
This is the story of three great friends; Gary, Eddie and Tyson. They were no ordinary friends, no, they were best friends for life, it was ordained that they be friends even before birth.
Their mother's had been known as the Three Tracys; Tracy Smith, Traci Henderson and Tracy Fowler. "When I found out that Tracy was pregnant, well I just couldn't let her have all the fun," Tyson's mother said. "So Traci and I set out to get pregnant too. All the girls were so jealous."
Tyson's mother stood there relating her story one boney hand on her hip and compulsively chewing her gum. The gum, she said, keeps her jaw strong. "And in my job you need a strong Jaw." She was a waitress at the Schwimmin LeBuff Tavern, the only watering hole in the small town of Schwimmin LeBuff, located at the end of the road in north central Alberta. Anyway back to Tracy and the babies.
"We used to stand with our bellies together and when little Tyson kicked, well Gary would kick and then Eddie, it was like a little kickball game." The three Tracys spent their entire pregnancies attached at the hip (or bellies as it were).
Forty weeks had passed and all the girls were getting awfully anxious about their upcoming labours, especially Gary's mother, he was already two weeks late. "Then it happened," Tracy went on, "right in the middle of Home Ec, I was just in the middle of pouring mint chocolate chips into my blueberry muffins when all of a sudden I was standing in a puddle of water. I guess little Tyson decided to come early, but that wasn't the most amazing part. As if they were all waiting for Tyson, Gary and Eddie decided it was time to make an appearance two. All of our water's broke not five minutes apart." Amazing.
The three Tracys were rushed off to the Schwimmin LeBuff Hospital where they gave birth to three lovely little boys. "We named them after who we thought their fathers were, Gary Reese, Eddie Kay and Tyler, or Yves, or Sam, maybe Owen or was it just that no name guy I met in the grocery store."
It was apparent early on that they were destined to be friends. If the nurses took one of the boys away the others would cry until he returned. As Gary, Eddie and Tyson got older they were like brothers and even though they were very different each provided a unique quality. Tyson was the handsome and smart one, Gary was the brave one, and Eddie was the tall one, and gullible, I mean loyal. Tyson was the natural leader, dictating where they would go, what they would do and how they would get it done. For example at seven they started a small Koolaid empire, Gary provided the sugar, Eddie the Koolaid mix and Tyson supplied the water. When they split the profits 25% went to Gary, 25% for Eddie and 50% for Tyson, naturally, after all he did provide the majority of the ingredients, and water is the most important one.
Tyson showed great enterprising skills all through his young life, spearheading great ventures with his two friends. "I just couldn't stand to see that talent go to waste," his mother said, "so I just had to send him to college." Tyson's mother started him a college fund, raising money from through out the community, well mostly from his now happily married possible fathers. "They were very co-operative, just mentioned 'paternity test' and their wallets flew wide open.
When I Grow Up I Want to Be a Men's Doubles Competitive Throw Dance
When Tyson left for college, Eddie and Gary were lost. They wanted to follow him but had no money and besides Eddie hadn't left school yet (he'd failed the third grade, twice). It seemed as though their friendship may be lost forever. Tyson left early to get used to living in the big city and Gary took the only job he could, that of a forest fire fighter in the nearby Peacock Hills Forest. The forest was named after the mysterious Peacock Tribe which, although never seen, were believed to live deep in the hills. Legend has it that they dress in ornate costumes with brightly coloured headdresses with huge plumage resembling a peacock. They are also rumoured to be able to fly.
When Tyson left for college, Eddie and Gary were lost. They wanted to follow him but had no money and besides Eddie hadn't left school yet (he'd failed the third grade, twice). It seemed as though their friendship may be lost forever. Tyson left early to get used to living in the big city and Gary took the only job he could, that of a forest fire fighter in the nearby Peacock Hills Forest. The forest was named after the mysterious Peacock Tribe which, although never seen, were believed to live deep in the hills. Legend has it that they dress in ornate costumes with brightly coloured headdresses with huge plumage resembling a peacock. They are also rumoured to be able to fly.Their first winter without Tyson was a sad and lonely one. When the fire season was over, Gary spent most of his evenings trying to help Eddie with his school work and his days watching soap operas and breathing clouds of second hand smoke with his mother or playing pool by himself at the Swimmin LeBuff Arcade.
The signs like the one at the arcade made Gary a little melancholy, it brought back memories of the good old days, you see back when him and Tyson were in the ninth grade they did a school project on civic pride. Part of the project was to convince town council to pass a by-law requiring all businesses to include the town's name on their signs. It passed. Of course the ever enterprising Tyson set up 'Tyson's Swimmin LeBuff Sign Co.' They had three employees, Eddie painted the signs, Gary cut them out (Eddie and power tools were not exactly a good mix) and they both installed them. Tyson was the sales person.
Gary was recalling the past and playing pool on a lazy cold winter afternoon when he happened to look up at the T.V. The sports line up during the day is far different from what it is during prime time. Hockey, Football and Basketball are replaced by Darts, Cup Stacking and Lawn Bowling. What was on the sports channel now blew Gary away, it was called Men's Competitive Throw Dancing, and it was about the coolest thing he had ever seen in his life.
Gary stared at the tube in awe, forgetting the triple bank off the rail combo he had set up. Two men entered the floor in gloriously sequined tights. They stood for a moment, arms out-stretched, one foot taping to the intro of the music, then their bodies moved. They turned and faced each other, hands locked around wrists. Their feet came together and they fell backwards, holding each other up. As if the room was spinning around them they began to rotate, arms locked tight, getting faster, the music getting louder, they were almost a blur.
Gary had no idea how they were managing to remain in control. He gasped, they seemed to be breaking apart, but it was all part of the routine. The tall skinny guy used the momentum of the spin to do a double back flip while the other chased across the floor, he leaped. Just in time the tall skinny dancer came out of his flips and caught him. They switched places and the skinny one was flung across the dance floor, but the thrower didn't let go, he used the momentum to create a rolling ring of two dancers.
The movements and strength seemed impossible, their choreography so complex, so fast, it seemed as though they found a way to negate gravity, all the laws of physics were completely thrown out the window. The images of these two superior athletes burned into Gary's eyes and brain like a hot iron on flesh (only a lot less painful and without his mother saying, "why the hell did you think you could play with that Gary?").
He knew then and there that he had to become a competitive throw dancer.
The two men were built just like him and Eddie. One was short and stocky with strong legs and thick arms and chest, kind of like a bulldog. He knew he had a lot of work to do to get into that kind of shape but he could do it. The other man was very tall and slim, just like Eddie, maybe not even as tall or as thin!
Gary dropped his pool cue on the table not even caring about wasting the $1.25 by not finishing his game. There'd be plenty more of that when he became a world renowned throw dancer.
He ran as fast as he could to the high school, he had to talk to Eddie. In his haste and excitement he forgot one of the golden rules about the high school; you pull to open the doors, not push.
A blurry shadow blocked out the bright light as he gingerly opened his eyes. "Gary, Y'ok?" The face began to take focus, first a cloud of fuzzy blond hair, then impossibly white crocked buck teeth, and finally two blue eyes, one looking down a long ski-jump nose directly at him, the other one starring off somewhere into the distance.
"Eddie" Gary said groggily, "What happened?"
"You forgot to open the door."
Mullets, Colostomy Bags and Gummers
Tyson couldn't wait to get out of town. He knew his entire life that he was destined for more than Schwimmin LeBuff. He was so keen to go that he had his bags packed even before graduation. He had never been away from home before, "but I will succeed!" he yelled at himself into the mirror.
For a moment he thought he saw the faces of Eddie and Gary looking over his shoulders, they were sad. It wasn't an encouraging look they were giving him, it was more like, "Tyson, how can you leave us? You can't do this without us."
"Of course I can," he flexed his arms in the mirror, "I AM TYSON." The imaginary images of his friends disappeared in a puff of smoke.
On the morning he was leaving for the city he finally met his mother's boyfriend who'd agreed to drive him to the highway to catch the bus.
He'd only heard the man's voice before, well, mostly grunting and saying things you should never have to hear a man say to your mother, but from the black rusted Trans Am that had been sneaking in at night and out early in the morning, he thought he knew who he was; Burt Sotherby.
He was right, "ready to go to the big scary city little shitter?" He asked over his overflowing bowl of Captain Crunch. Tyson now knew who had been eating all of his cereal. Three crumbs fell into his bowl as he tipped the box. He didn't answer.
After breakfast he threw his duffle bag into the bag seat of Burt's car, covering the litter of old cigarette packs and rotting mostly empty Schwimmin LeBuff Burger bags which looked like they may have scurried out of the way as the black shadow descended upon their home.
When Tyson was in the third grade Burt would have been about twenty and the T.A. would have been a little less rusty. All of the young boys used to envy him, cool car, killer mullet (although someone should have told the fine folks of Schwimmin LeBuff that the mullet went out of style in 1986), and he was able to get all the girls, not that they would have known what to do with a girl had they ever got one.
All the kids used to stand by the fence and watch as Burt would carry out his mating ritual with some little high school girl. This 'dance' consisting mostly of peeling out of the school parking lot sliding across the paved road, then laying a long strip of rubber. The smell of the burnt tires were the small town equivalent of musk. Six years later and he hadn't changed much, his hair had a little less business in the front, and the party in the back was going grey and if he still tried going after high school girls he'd likely end up in jail (although it likely wouldn't stop him). These days, however, he'd traded in his young kittens for cougars (Tyson's stomach churned with the thought of his mother being a cougar).
Burt pushed a mix tape into the car stereo, cranked the volume all the way up and backed out of the driveway. The music was so loud and distorted that Tyson couldn't hear who or what it was, nor the sound of the spinning tires as they laid a strip of hot melted rubber in front of his house.
This was the ride all the way to the highway. Burt smoked three joints; Tyson got high, and almost shit himself when Burt didn't slow down when the town's pavement turned to county gravel nearly sending them into the ditch.
The pavement was only there to make you believe that when you left town you were going somewhere, you weren't. Truth be told it was an illusion; you could never leave Schwimmin LeBuff. Burt knew it, as he dropped Tyson by the side of the road he rolled down the window and yelled, "you'll be back ya little shitter," and Tyson could hear Burt laughing as he left him behind in a shower of dust rocks and rubber.
There must be at least some form of anonymity that can be had on an overloaded South American bus with no air conditioning and people riding on the roof or hanging out the windows. Unfortunately for Tyson, that level of anonymity was not present on the Greyhound bus collecting lonely isolated people from desolate forgotten communities in Northern Alberta.
Whether he wanted to or not, Tyson heard the life story of Shitbag Shawn, an old bull rider from Hay River. He got his name from the Colostomy Bag which he was not too proud to show Tyson.
"See this here?" He asked between spits of chew mostly landing into a Styrofoam coffee cup set precariously in the cup holder beside Tyson's arm. He lifted his shirt. "They call this here a shitbag." He tapped on it hard enough to make Tyson nervous. "Wanna know how I got it?"
Judging by Shawn's 1987 F.C.A. Bull Riding Championship belt buckle, Tyson concluded it must have been an unfortunate incident involving a bull, a horn and a goose (and not the kind that honks either). He soon discovered he was wrong.
It turns out that, "a hundred bucks ain't worth drinking a bottle of Alberta Crude hot sauce, two and a half dozen Habanero peppers washed down with a brick of Ex-Lax chocolate." Tyson had decided it was too much information the second the man introduced himself. "Doctor figures I'll be shittin' right in 'bout five more years." He pondered for a moment. "Good thing I didn't already have one of these, likely would have melted clean through."
That was enough. Tyson's stomach did a summersault.
He chose his next seat beside a moderately attractive woman likely in her early forties. They sat quietly for a few miles then the woman put her hand over her mouth and handed him something warm and wet. Before he got a chance to see what it was she squeezed his thigh and whispered sloppily in his ear, "ever had a gummer?" He opened his hand. To his horror was a full set of dentures toothily staring up at him. He seat companion looked at him moving her mouth between showing him her toothless gums and making an "O". He dropped the teeth to the floor. He desperately crawled over her to escape. There was no damn way he wanted gummer, he needed his teeth!
The overwhelming stench in the bathroom was nothing to the rot of people on the other side of the door. He hid in there until he felt the bus come to a stop. He didn't even know where they were when he went running out into the morning light. He cheered as he watched the bus roll off without him. Hitchhiking or walking couldn't be much worse.
Old Woman and Bad Cookies
He had found his new home, sight unseen, from an on-line ad.One Bedroom Basement Apartment, $250 All Included. Men OnlyAparently the lady had seemed quite nice when she had called back. Although his mom said she asked a lot of really personal questions. "I told her you hadn't wet the bed for years and that you were still a virgin."
Tyson was exasperated.
"Well she asked." She replied.
He was very concerned about what his landlady was going to be like especially given her requirement for some very personal information.
Mrs. Gnassi turned out to be a very pleasant lady, although very elderly and somewhat senile. Before he had even unpacked she invited him up for cookies and tea.
"I baked'em special for you, they were my son's favourite, vanilla coconut." He looked at them skeptically. The coconut was questionable as to whether it was really coconut and his nose told him that she may have gotten the vanilla extract mixed up too. Soy Sauce. He pretended to savour them and washed them down with weak tea that he was too afraid to sweeten.
The old lady handed Tyson his lease. His mother had told him to be very careful signing anything so he read it through. On top of the expected rental details there were these rules:
- No Drinking
- No Smoking (By Tenent, Guests Okay)
- No Female Overnight Guests
- No Objectionable Television or Music
- Apartment must be occupied by tenent between 10pm and 6am unless otherwise arranged
There wasn't much room for Tyson to set his plate down in his new apartment. A dishrack sat precariously on the counter beside his shell shaped pink porceline (kitchen?) sink. Across the room was a half stove with only two burners and an oven that would never fit a frozen pizza.
The dining room set consisted of two folding lawn chairs and two TV trays holding up a sheet of plywood which was obviously cut and "designed" by someone with too much time on their hands and a new router.
The Bedroom/Living room consisted of a folddown sofabed, an enormous dressor with a cracked mirror and a 13" floor model black and white TV complete with tin foil ordained rabbit ears.
There were a couple of missing elements to his apartment. He had not yet discovered the bathroom which he shared with the other as of yet to be met tenant but he did find the fridge, which he shared with critters living on the forgotten food of the last tenent. He really regretted opening that door.
Tired from his long trip he layed down on the brown vynel sofa and immediately fell asleep.
Almost Getting Laid by a Vampress
The higher he climbed the colder it got even though the heat from the sun made his head sweat. He stopped for a moment to admire the patchwork of green below him. Meadows, swamp forest and feild lay like a quilt over the earth. Clouds quickly flew through the sky and the sun melted into the growing shadows as the day passed. Tyson couldn't move.
The last snap of sunlight flashed on the horizon and all was dark.
"Beautiful isn't it?" A sweet voice said from behind him. He would have been startled but the sound was as startling as a butterflie's wing brushing your hand.
He turned towards the voice and felt the presence of another remarkably close although they weren't touching. "Who are you?"
She gently bent her head down and nuzzled his neck. "A vampire." She whispered then sunk her teeth into his neck.
He was sure that he was dead but opened his eyes anyway. A dazzling woman stood over him, her face was nearly translucent in the moonlight, her lips glowed brilliant red. He was drawn then to the silvery hair as it moved in the breeze, uncovering glimpses of he naked flesh. He was dead but he never felt so alive.
The vampress slowly dropped down over him, brushing her hair accross his chest, arousing everything in him.
"Oh my god," he said passionately, "I must be dreaming."
"Yeap, you are." His brain said and immediately woke him.
"Shit, not even in my dreams." He peeled himself from the pleather sofa in search of the bathroom and a cold shower.
Tyson peeled himself off of the pleather sofa and went on a hunt for the bathroom. A narrow sliding door gave way to a tiny room housing a teal toilet with a white seat, a sink matching the one in his “kitchen”, only lilac, and a formerly matching bathtub which had been repaired using white giving it a gay leopard feel.
Pipes screamed in dismay and banged when he started the water. The shower consisted of a hand held sprayer making it nearly impossible to hold the sprayer, shampoo and vision of the vampire vixen all at once.
Clean but unfulfilled Tyson pulled back the curtain. “Jesus Christ!” He yelped grabbing the sheer shower curtain and wrapping it around himself pulling a couple of curtain rings off in the process.
Mrs. Gnossi stood there in an ancient green dressing gown with her hair pulled up into a kaleidoscope of multiple sized curlers. She handed him a towel.
“What are you, the world’s oldest Ninja? Can’t you knock?” He asked trying to take the towel without exposing himself.
“It’s my house Trevor,” she shrugged. “It’s two am, just wanted to make sure that my new little man was okay.” She stood there staring at him.
Tyson raised his eyebrow at her, “do you mind?” She didn’t move.
“No more showering after nine sweetheart.” She said and turned to go. Tyson let go of the curtain and started to wrap the towel around himself. “Oh,” she started, causing Tyson to once again retreat, “and none of that other either, I’ll know, I wash your sheets.” He didn’t remember reading that in the lease.
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