No. It has not been a piece of cake. Two weeks later and I'm not even done. This sucks and I've been halfway tempted to say fuck it and get married at the courthouse today. I won't. Just because I've spent so much time, effort, and not to mention money on things for this wedding. Ugh. September can not come quickly enough.
Anyway, I figured I would post my prompt that I had written for the most recent meeting of the Wicked Wordsmiths (and especially since I didn't get to go to the meeting). The prompt was that we had to write a story using four words that we drew at random. (Luckily I'm familiar with such an exercise as I worked on Ohio University's 48-hour Shoot Out several years in college). My words were: drive-in theater, sizzle, tattoo, and antiquity. Enjoy.
Let’s All Go
to the Movies
Courtney was an enigma. She was the girl everyone loved, but no one
really knew about anything about. When she tricked me into taking her to the drive-in theater, I
didn’t complain. She was, after all, my dream girl. This was the girl that I
had spent hours and hours writing bad poetry and cheesy songs on my guitar.
Courtney was the girl I thought of when the crappy love songs came on the
radio.
My mom and dad had let me borrow the
car after a half hour of begging.
I spent more than usual getting ready. I wanted to look casual, but not
too casual. I wanted to be cool without looking like I was trying too hard.
Which I was, but that was beside the point. I opted for my Nirvana shirt with a
flannel shirt over top even though it was still summer. I combined it with my
jeans with the huge hole in the right knee and my Chuck Taylors. My hair. Well,
there was nothing that could be done. It had a mind of its own.
I pulled up to her house very carefully. Seconds later Courtney stormed out
of her house, slamming the door. She wore a crop top and a mini skirt, while
stomping angrily in her platform sandals.
I didn’t even get a chance to get out of the car before she swung open
the door and plopped herself into the seat with an audible grunt.
“Hey,” I said.
“Can we just get a move on it?” She didn’t look at me.
I shifted the car back into drive and made my way to the other end of
town where the drive-in was. The sun was still up. The heat from the setting
sun burned into my face. The car felt like it began to sizzle and I became suddenly embarrassed
that I wasn’t allowed to use the car’s air conditioner. It had been one of the
conditions my parents demanded when they agreed to let me use it. My parents
were weird like that. It could be a bajillion degrees out and they would refuse
to turn on the car AC.
“It wastes gas,” my mom would say.
“Having the window open works just as well, son,” my dad always countered.
But it wasn’t. It never was. And I was half tempted to turn it on. The
car wasn’t exactly “cool.” It was an antiquity and probably needed to be taken out of its misery.
Courtney said nothing. She just watched the houses go by with a bored
expression on her face.
“So what’s playing tonight?” I knew very well what was playing as I
obsessed over it as soon as I got home from school. It was a summer double
feature: The Lion King and Angels in the Outfield.
“Don’t know.” Her eyes never left the window.
“So it will be a surprise then. Cool.”
I pulled into the drive-in, paying for both of us. Still Courtney looked
out the window like she didn’t want to be here.
I suddenly became very self-conscious about the situation. Maybe she had
changed her mind. I imagined she tried to call my house to cancel, but I had
already left. If only I hadn’t left five minutes early.
“Do you want any popcorn?” She turned towards me.
Her sudden question surprised me and I was a little caught off guard.
“Huh? Oh yeah. I can go get us some if you want.”
“I’ll get it. You paid for our way in. The popcorn will be my treat.”
She quickly climbed out of the car and walked to the concession booth.
Her sandals crunching the gravel with each step she took.
I felt awkward being here alone. Glancing around I saw mostly kids
running around and climbing onto the hood of their parents’ car. They were
excited about staying up past their bedtimes. I know I would have been.
I fiddled with the radio, turning it to the station of the theater. For
the time being, it was just advertisements telling people to remember to go to
the concession booth before the movie started. There were a few local ads as
well. Nothing that was worth paying attention to, but it kept me busy while
Courtney was gone.
“Care to give a girl a hand?” Courtney stood at the passenger side door,
her arms full with popcorn, sodas, and other movie treats.
I scrambled out of the car and walked as fast as I could to the other
side of the car. “You made out like a bandit.”
“I just flirted with the boy at the counter. You would be amazed how easy
it was to score all this. For free even.” She got in the care. I looked at all
the junk food, then at Courtney. That poor boy didn’t have a chance.
The sun was almost down. While the temperature had gotten lower, the
humidity had stayed pretty high and I was really beginning to regret the
flannel shirt.
“I’m sorry I was in a bad mood earlier” She popped a kernel of popcorn
into her mouth. “My dad was being so lame. He didn’t like what I was wearing.”
I looked once again at what she was wearing. My dad had a similar
argument with my older sister the other week. Then again, she was wearing way
less than Courtney was currently wearing.
“It was all to distract him from this.” Courtney placed her right leg
onto the dashboard and right above her ankle was a butterfly.
“Is that a real tattoo?”
I leaned in closer to get a better look at it.
“Yep!” Courtney had a smug look on her face. “I got it today after
school.”
I had never known anyone with a real tattoo before, especially not
someone around my age.
“I got it for Princess Diana. She died yesterday.”
The mesmerizing butterfly with its pink wings and dark body broke its
spell. I looked up at Courtney with confusion.
“Seriously, Marcus, don’t you watch the news? She died in a car crash in
France.”
No, I didn’t watch the news. Most of the time my parents wouldn’t let me.
They said I was too young to understand things that went on in the world.
I didn’t quite get why a seventeen year old girl got a pink butterfly
tattoo for some dead princess. But when the African chanting started up and her
eyes got wide with excitement that was the moment I completely fell in love
with Courtney Fuller.
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