Read Online Rockets Versus Gravity by Richard Scarsbrook - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Scarsbrook
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whatever it is, never fails to arouse James. It makes him want to taste her, to touch her, to thrill her, to fill her with pleasure.
Priya catches him admiring her and smiles.
âDo you want to take a break with me, James?â she says. She peels off her paint-speckled yoga pants and brushes past him in the narrow hallway. He follows her into the small living room, where she lies back on her ancient sofa and opens up for him, her thatch of jet-black fur trimmed neatly around the edges, just the way James likes it.
James begins stroking himself, feeling as if the rushing water is the only thing preventing him from bursting into flames and crumbling into a pillar of ash.
Â
Inconvenience
W hen the argument begins, Iâm trapped inside the âEmployees Onlyâ washroom at the back of the Gas ânâ Snak convenience store. Iâm not an actual employee of the Gas ânâ Snak, but because my wheelchair wonât fit inside the washroom thatâs reserved for customers, Khalid lets me use this one instead.
âIâm sorry, sir,â Khalidâs voice says, âbut until you comply with my request, Iâm afraid that I cannot serve you.â
âLook,â the other voice says, âjust gimme my smokes, my lottery tickets, and my burritos, and weâre done here. Mmm-kay , Gandhi?â
Their voices are getting louder out there, but right now I canât do anything to help Khalid.
K halid is my best friend. When my mom is working the night shift at the hospital, she drops me off here to keep Khalid company. Or for Khalid to keep me company, whichever. She doesnât have to worry about me when Iâm hanging out here at the Gas ânâ Snak. There isnât much trouble I can get into here, she figures. Still, between the sporadic bursts of customers buying premium gasoline for their cars and two-for -one microwaved burritos for their children, Khalid and I manage to keep ourselves entertained:
We drink âcomplimentaryâ cherry cola Slushees. Khalid says itâs okay to have a free one now and then, since thereâs really no way to track how much of the syrupy guck is actually consumed by humans and how much gets spilled and drained away into the sewers, probably creating hyperactive, high-fructose-corn-syrup-mutated frogs and catfish down there in that fertile water.
We peruse the restricted magazines with titles like Penthouse Letters, Juggs, Biker Mamas, and MILF International from the top shelf of the rack. We find most of the content hilarious rather than titillating. âHey, look at Bunny McBoobs, who is washing a sports car with her ridiculous artificial breasts!â or âMiss Sex Ed Teacher is going to teach those thirty-year-old âboysâ in her classroom a thing or two about discipline!â
We laugh at the customers who scramble back to their cars with the magazines theyâve purchased from the top shelf. Itâs usually older men; I guess theyâve never used the Internet for anything but email and the Weather Network. It tends to be guys who wear glasses and/or cardigan sweaters who buy Penthouse Letters , while Juggs seems to be the favourite of guys whoâve got, um, âjuggsâ themselves. Biker Mamas generally go home with Biker Papas, and MILF International is favoured by guys around our own age, guys whose moms must be regulating their Internet usage, guys who are probably really into our English teacher, Ms. Womansfield (who changed her name from âMansfieldâ after her divorce).
We talk about whatever happened at school that day, which usually takes about five minutes. If youâre not on the football team, or a cheerleader, or in the school band, or in the photography or yearbook or Bible Study clubs, not much happens at Faireville District High School, except for when the occasional kid falls asleep at his desk and then gets laughed at by the other kids.
Nobody at school calls
Priya catches him admiring her and smiles.
âDo you want to take a break with me, James?â she says. She peels off her paint-speckled yoga pants and brushes past him in the narrow hallway. He follows her into the small living room, where she lies back on her ancient sofa and opens up for him, her thatch of jet-black fur trimmed neatly around the edges, just the way James likes it.
James begins stroking himself, feeling as if the rushing water is the only thing preventing him from bursting into flames and crumbling into a pillar of ash.
Â
Inconvenience
W hen the argument begins, Iâm trapped inside the âEmployees Onlyâ washroom at the back of the Gas ânâ Snak convenience store. Iâm not an actual employee of the Gas ânâ Snak, but because my wheelchair wonât fit inside the washroom thatâs reserved for customers, Khalid lets me use this one instead.
âIâm sorry, sir,â Khalidâs voice says, âbut until you comply with my request, Iâm afraid that I cannot serve you.â
âLook,â the other voice says, âjust gimme my smokes, my lottery tickets, and my burritos, and weâre done here. Mmm-kay , Gandhi?â
Their voices are getting louder out there, but right now I canât do anything to help Khalid.
K halid is my best friend. When my mom is working the night shift at the hospital, she drops me off here to keep Khalid company. Or for Khalid to keep me company, whichever. She doesnât have to worry about me when Iâm hanging out here at the Gas ânâ Snak. There isnât much trouble I can get into here, she figures. Still, between the sporadic bursts of customers buying premium gasoline for their cars and two-for -one microwaved burritos for their children, Khalid and I manage to keep ourselves entertained:
We drink âcomplimentaryâ cherry cola Slushees. Khalid says itâs okay to have a free one now and then, since thereâs really no way to track how much of the syrupy guck is actually consumed by humans and how much gets spilled and drained away into the sewers, probably creating hyperactive, high-fructose-corn-syrup-mutated frogs and catfish down there in that fertile water.
We peruse the restricted magazines with titles like Penthouse Letters, Juggs, Biker Mamas, and MILF International from the top shelf of the rack. We find most of the content hilarious rather than titillating. âHey, look at Bunny McBoobs, who is washing a sports car with her ridiculous artificial breasts!â or âMiss Sex Ed Teacher is going to teach those thirty-year-old âboysâ in her classroom a thing or two about discipline!â
We laugh at the customers who scramble back to their cars with the magazines theyâve purchased from the top shelf. Itâs usually older men; I guess theyâve never used the Internet for anything but email and the Weather Network. It tends to be guys who wear glasses and/or cardigan sweaters who buy Penthouse Letters , while Juggs seems to be the favourite of guys whoâve got, um, âjuggsâ themselves. Biker Mamas generally go home with Biker Papas, and MILF International is favoured by guys around our own age, guys whose moms must be regulating their Internet usage, guys who are probably really into our English teacher, Ms. Womansfield (who changed her name from âMansfieldâ after her divorce).
We talk about whatever happened at school that day, which usually takes about five minutes. If youâre not on the football team, or a cheerleader, or in the school band, or in the photography or yearbook or Bible Study clubs, not much happens at Faireville District High School, except for when the occasional kid falls asleep at his desk and then gets laughed at by the other kids.
Nobody at school calls
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