four.
Personally, I could have gone my whole life without knowing Mrs. Garrett’s evil twin waxes.
“My stiffy is gone.”
I snorted when I laughed. “Do you suppose she gets a landing strip or the Elmer Fudd?”
“Could you never ask me that again?” He rubbed his face. “Are we done now?”
“Yeah. I think I have all the information I need.”
* * *
Since I knew Foster was coming anyway, I accepted his offer of a ride to my date. We did not speak of bikini lines or woodies on the way to Abby’s Diner. Though we did have an interesting conversation about fonts and typefaces. Well, it was interesting to us anyway.
Mr. May revealed himself to be Steven J. Morten—at least that was how he introduced himself to me as we met across the diner table. His handshake was firm, but his skin felt on the clammy side to me.
Other than that, his appearance was unremarkable. Not quite matured yet, he carried himself like a freshman maybe. His face still had that baby-soft look to it, and behind his glasses, his eyes seemed boyish. A nice change from the last date, who thought he was more man than he really was.
Abby’s Diner was a retro 50’s joint and famous for their pies. Steven and I both ordered peach ala mode which gave us a great conversation starter.
I offered, “Peach is my favorite.”
He replied, “I just got it because you did.”
Cue uncomfortable silence.
“Do you have a favorite pie?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“Oh.”
Again, this really wasn’t working. I looked to the surroundings for a kick-start. Nothing about Formica and chrome screamed “good conversation.” The jukebox kicked out “Teenager in Love” and the night wasn’t getting any younger.
“So Steven, what school clubs do you participate in?”
“Just the Spanish Club.” I thought that was all he was going to say, but then he added, “But I’m really into art.”
“Oh?”
He picked up a portfolio on the bench next to him. “I brought a few of my favorites. Would you like to see them?”
I had just taken a big bite of pie, so I nodded and he pushed the portfolio across the table. Upon opening to the first page, the pie in my stomach offered a repeat performance.
“Um. Wow,” I mumbled. He turned the page. “These are really…” Disgusting . “Intense.”
He turned the page again and I tried not to wince.
“They are very…” Vulgar. Vile . I reached for a nonthreatening word. “Vivid?”
Because the mind of Steven J. Morten was apparently a very scary place.
Each drawing was indeed intense and vivid. And the stuff of nightmares. Naked teenage girls that I recognized as cheerleaders sprawled in painful poses while being eviscerated or beheaded by demonic, hulking beasts. Page after page of death, violence, and destruction amid burning urban landscapes. I looked at Steven again, thinking I misjudged his appearance, but no, he still had that guileless young boy vibe despite the fact that his mind vomited up such detailed ugliness.
“So your favorite medium is pencil?” I asked while texting SOS by Braille to a demon sometimes scarier than the ones on the paper in front of me.
He nodded. “But I did do a painted mural on my bedroom wall. Hey, do you want to come to my house and see it?”
Blinking away visions of the chains and torture devices he might have awaiting for me in his bedroom, I declined. “I’m not allowed to take this date out of the restaurant. Sorry.”
Steven shrugged. “Maybe some other time.” His gaze shifted to something behind me. “Hey, what is Jimmy Foster doing here?”
Oh, thank God. Lucifer was going to save me. I was afraid he wasn’t going to take my text seriously.
Foster stopped at our table. “Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh hi, Foster. What a surprise seeing you here.” I smiled brightly at him even though he obviously questioned the distress call. I’m sure that by all appearances, my date with Mr. May seemed pretty tame. “Steven was
Personally, I could have gone my whole life without knowing Mrs. Garrett’s evil twin waxes.
“My stiffy is gone.”
I snorted when I laughed. “Do you suppose she gets a landing strip or the Elmer Fudd?”
“Could you never ask me that again?” He rubbed his face. “Are we done now?”
“Yeah. I think I have all the information I need.”
* * *
Since I knew Foster was coming anyway, I accepted his offer of a ride to my date. We did not speak of bikini lines or woodies on the way to Abby’s Diner. Though we did have an interesting conversation about fonts and typefaces. Well, it was interesting to us anyway.
Mr. May revealed himself to be Steven J. Morten—at least that was how he introduced himself to me as we met across the diner table. His handshake was firm, but his skin felt on the clammy side to me.
Other than that, his appearance was unremarkable. Not quite matured yet, he carried himself like a freshman maybe. His face still had that baby-soft look to it, and behind his glasses, his eyes seemed boyish. A nice change from the last date, who thought he was more man than he really was.
Abby’s Diner was a retro 50’s joint and famous for their pies. Steven and I both ordered peach ala mode which gave us a great conversation starter.
I offered, “Peach is my favorite.”
He replied, “I just got it because you did.”
Cue uncomfortable silence.
“Do you have a favorite pie?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“Oh.”
Again, this really wasn’t working. I looked to the surroundings for a kick-start. Nothing about Formica and chrome screamed “good conversation.” The jukebox kicked out “Teenager in Love” and the night wasn’t getting any younger.
“So Steven, what school clubs do you participate in?”
“Just the Spanish Club.” I thought that was all he was going to say, but then he added, “But I’m really into art.”
“Oh?”
He picked up a portfolio on the bench next to him. “I brought a few of my favorites. Would you like to see them?”
I had just taken a big bite of pie, so I nodded and he pushed the portfolio across the table. Upon opening to the first page, the pie in my stomach offered a repeat performance.
“Um. Wow,” I mumbled. He turned the page. “These are really…” Disgusting . “Intense.”
He turned the page again and I tried not to wince.
“They are very…” Vulgar. Vile . I reached for a nonthreatening word. “Vivid?”
Because the mind of Steven J. Morten was apparently a very scary place.
Each drawing was indeed intense and vivid. And the stuff of nightmares. Naked teenage girls that I recognized as cheerleaders sprawled in painful poses while being eviscerated or beheaded by demonic, hulking beasts. Page after page of death, violence, and destruction amid burning urban landscapes. I looked at Steven again, thinking I misjudged his appearance, but no, he still had that guileless young boy vibe despite the fact that his mind vomited up such detailed ugliness.
“So your favorite medium is pencil?” I asked while texting SOS by Braille to a demon sometimes scarier than the ones on the paper in front of me.
He nodded. “But I did do a painted mural on my bedroom wall. Hey, do you want to come to my house and see it?”
Blinking away visions of the chains and torture devices he might have awaiting for me in his bedroom, I declined. “I’m not allowed to take this date out of the restaurant. Sorry.”
Steven shrugged. “Maybe some other time.” His gaze shifted to something behind me. “Hey, what is Jimmy Foster doing here?”
Oh, thank God. Lucifer was going to save me. I was afraid he wasn’t going to take my text seriously.
Foster stopped at our table. “Hey, guys, sorry to interrupt.”
“Oh hi, Foster. What a surprise seeing you here.” I smiled brightly at him even though he obviously questioned the distress call. I’m sure that by all appearances, my date with Mr. May seemed pretty tame. “Steven was
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