Daze- Chapter 1

Daze 

Chapter One

Lil Wayne blared from my Blackberry, shaking me awake.  " Fuuuuck," I let out as I glanced at my alarm clock.

9:01 PM

What the hell was I doing sleeping at 9?  Must have been the fifth of Smirnoff I downed at that party last night.  God, I coundn't bounce back like I could when I was 15.

I reached for the phone, needing to kill Lil Wayne's annoying voice.  My head screamed, signalling that I was not in the mood.

" Hello," I answered, glad to have killed the daggers poking my brain with pain.

" Hey, what're you doin'?"  Lisa Wright's voice asked from the phone.

" Shit... just woke up."  Lisa was my coworker at Sunshine Sandwiches and I loved her.  Well, as much as I was able to love a chick.  " Did you work with the new kid today?"

" Yea, I trained him.  He was hot as fuck.  I totally plan on doing him."  I heard her car door slam and the ignition start.  She was out on time, which I found weird.  Sunshine Sandwiches closed at 9, but we usually got out right when we closed.  The two of us were the night managers and when we worked together, we were able to get everything done so that we could lock up and leave right at closing.  Still... she was working with some new kid.  How the fuck did they get everything done?

" So is he a good worker?  How are you done so fuckin' early?"

" No, he's actually a pretty shitty worker.  We were just really slow.  Economy and all that."  We had been getting slower and slower.  The American economy was in the shitter, but Metro Detroit's?  Metro Detroit's was 10 times worse than the rest of the country.  I was surprised our cheep Indian boss was even able to keep the doors open.

" Would I want to fuck him?"

" Probably, he's kind of thuggish and straight.  You know, your type."  Lisa was incredibly blunt and thought like a dude.  We always joked that we were the same person, she just had the vag and I had the cock.

" Psh, should I put him on my to-fuck list then, too?"  Lisa knew I was gay, or bi, or whatever the fuck I was that day.  I was out to most of my family and friends, but she was the only one that knew at our work.

" You should totally try to hit it.  Hey, I'm on my way over.  I've got a blunt."

" Damn, bitch, I ain't even dressed.  Well let me get off the phone and throw some clothes on."

" Hurry the fuck up, I'll be there in like 5 minutes."

" Shit.  Just come in and chill in my room then.  My mom ain't here, so just come up.  I'll be outta the bathroom in like 10."  It wasn't like it would have mattered if my mom was home.  She was pretty cool and didn't have any rules now that I was back home after 3 years.  She was just happy that I was finally 18, had a job, and wasn't in jail.  In her mind, I was grown and her job was done.

" K, bye bitch."  I heard a click on the phone, then hung up on my end.  I got up and grabbed a Newport from the half empty pack on my dresser and lit it up.  The warm, minty smoke filled my lungs as I opened my large, walk-in closet to decide on an outfit to wear.  All my shirts hung from the top rack, which ran along each of the closet's three walls.  The shirts were arranged by color, something that I hated, but I learned a long time ago not to argue with my mom's fuckin' OCD.  

I grabbed a blue Southpole teeshirt from the "blue area" (thanks for your psychoness, mom) and a pair of Southpole bluejeans from the bottom rack (comically placed right underneath the teeshirt... yep, the craziness arranged my pants with their coordinating shirts, too).

I stopped at my dresser and ashed my cigarette into the pot leaf ashtray.  Opening the top drawer, I grabbed a pair of blue boxers (everything's gotta match, you never know when some sex might break out... can't have my boxers not matching my shirt) and a pair of socks, and headed off down the hall and into the upper-level bathroom.  My house was rather large, as my stepfather had put in 35 years at Chrysler before the company went to shit and he retired.  The auto-industry made the American middle class, and my house was the perfect example of what working in the manufacturing industry could result in... in the olden days, that is.  

I threw my cigarette in the toilet and flushed it, watching its corpse swirl around and around and eventually down into... well, wherever the fuck the toilet empties into.  I threw off my white tee and white boxers and checked myself out in the mirror.  Buzzed blond hair, blue eyes, toned body, nice 6 pack- I knew I was hot and I exuded it in everything I did.  The only thing I didn't like about myself was my dick.  It was only 6 inches long and I wanted it to be bigger.  Not that I ever had any complaints... still, who doesn't want to be hung like a fuckin' horse?

I could still taste last night's liquor in my mouth and I knew that I probably smelled like a brewery.  A shower was definitely in order.  I turned on the radio on the counter and "Sweet Dreams" by Beyonce filled the room.  Someday they'll play more than the same fuckin' four songs. I cranked the hot water up all the way, turned the cold water slightly on and waited for the water to warm up.  I noticed my dick hardening.  Ugh, a year without sex is entirely too long.  Not at all good for the soul.

After a quick five minute shower and a two minute jack-off, I emerged fully refreshed and the hangover from the previous night's party fully washed away.  I put on my clothes and brushed my teeth.  After checking myself out in the mirror and deciding that I looked fresh and clean, I sprayed some Axe on my chest, turned off the radio and made my way back to my room.

Lisa was sitting on my bed and breaking up some weed on my Up In Smoke Dvd case.  

She was beautiful.  Wait, scratch that.  She was hot as fuck, not beautiful.  She had long, blond, straight hair which reached a fuckin' huge rack.  Her face was a bit long, but it was proportionate to her tall body.  The stupid black Sunshine Sandwiches shirt she was wearing was baggy, hiding her tight, skinny body in a mound of fabric.

I hated those fuckin' shirts.

I had been working at Sunshine for over a year when she had started there.  We were both 16 at the time and hit it off right away.  We thought the same, watched the same shit, and listened to the same music.  On top of that, we both partied our asses off and became besties right away.

We flirted around for over a year, before I finally told her I was gay.  Besides, we both were fucked up in the head and a relationship would probably have made one of us off ourselves- we would've fucked with each other's head so bad.  We both decided to leave our friendship where it was and to never take it further, though there were a few drunk occasions when we almost fucked.  

Key word being almost.

" Hey skank," I said as I plopped down on the bed next to her.  She had finished rolling the blunt and was licking it in an attempt to seal it.  I had to admit, it was kinda sexy... if she were a dude.

" What the fuck took you so long?"

" Bitch, I was like 20 minutes tops.  Besides I had to jack it in the shower," I responded, a smile playing across my face.  I loved having someone that I could be completely open and honest with.  She felt like... home.

" Ha, that's hot."

" Okay, Paris.  If you're done making out with that blunt, maybe you should spark it." 

She pushed me down on the bed and laughed.  She pulled out a green lighter (we only spark that shit with a green lighter) and lit the blunt, taking a long, slow drag on the peach Whiteowl.  She held the smoke in for six or seven seconds then blew it out with a spasm of coughs.  " Haha, you're such a punkass bitch," I said.  I grabbed the blunt from her and took a few puffs, letting the warm sweet smoke fill my mouth.  When I felt like I couldn't fit any more of the heavy grey smoke in my mouth, I inhaled deeply and let the weed go to work in my lungs.  After a few seconds, I contorted my mouth into an O shape and lightly puffed the smoke out of my lungs.  As the smoke rings blew from my mouth, Lisa rolled her eyes and grabbed the blunt from my hand.

" Show off."  

When I was 12, my brother James was 15 and offered me my first puff on a joint.  From that moment on, I loved the high and smoked every chance I could.  I turned 18 four months ago, and I think I've been high everyday since.

Just the way I liked it.

After finishing the blunt, we just laid there, staring at the ceiling.  There was nothing but silence, the type of silence that just crushes you because you're wondering what the fuck the other person is thinking and if they're thinking about you.

Or maybe it was just the weed.

I got up and switched my Xbox on.  I scrolled down the media library and selected the "High Shit" folder, finally landing on "Weed Song" by Bone Thungs & Harmony.  I shot Lisa a look, knowing what was coming.

" Ugh, turn this shit off, it isn't 19 fuckin 99."  

As usual, Lisa didn't disappoint.  

" It's a classic."

" Bradley Bradford," I cringed- I hated my fuckin' name, " Turn this shit off. NOW."  Lisa glared at me as I waved her off. 

" We need to get out of here.  I want to do something.  I hate being stoned and just sitting here," I said, totally ignoring her rejection of my song choice.

" I really don't feel like partying tonight," Lisa paused for a moment, her face scrunching up, signalling to me that she was lost in thought.  " I totally got Bobby's number today.  Let's call him."  I looked at her for a moment, the name not penetrating my smoked-out brain.  " The new kid.  I trained him today," she said, obviously noticing how perplexed I was.  I had only heard his name once or twice and if I hadn't been stoned, my mind probably would have made the connection right away.  

But....

" Oh, I totally forgot to tell you," Lisa continued, " I thought Bobby was kinda hot, you know, so I like bent over right in front of him and started scrubbing the wall, you know, to see if he'd check out my ass."  Lisa demonstrated for me, her ass shaking right in my face.  I rolled my eyes and smiled at her.  Everyone thought that she was such a slut because she was always doing things like this, but the truth was, she only had been with two guys the entire time I had known her.  I think she just liked the attention- coming from a family with 7 kids will do that to you.

" Ha, did he check it out?" I asked as I gave her ass a little smack.

" Fuck, no.  It's like he didn't notice.  So... I was starting to think that he was gay, you know, because who wouldn't check this out," she smacked her own tight ass and sat back down next to me, "But then he said something about how he had his own house and his girlfriend lived there.  Still, though, who let's that stop them from checkin' out some ass?"  I laughed for a good straight minute at that comment, the weed probably fueling most of it.

Lisa pulled out her cellphone, dialed a number, and put it up to her ear.  I hadn't remembered volunteering to hang out with some kid I hadn't even met, but that didn't seem to matter to Lisa as she waited for a second then spoke, " Hey, pimp.  This is Lisa."  There was a pause as I saw Lisa chuckle for a moment, probably aware that Bobby, or whatever, was completely confused by the phone call.  He didn't know Lisa though- she was always doing shit like this.  She was incredibly social and just didn't give a fuck.

" Well, I just wanted to know if you wanted to chill for a minute with me and my friend Bradley.  We could smoke, or something."  Another pause as the smile seemed to grow bigger across her face.  " Ummm, he's like your other boss."  There was a loud laugh this time, Lisa obviously finding the humor in her suggestion for him to get stoned with his bosses.  " Alright, we'll be there in a minute.  I'll call you when we get on your street so you can come outside or something.  Peace."  She flipped her phone closed and let out her little joyous laugh.

" So what's up?"  I asked, rolling my eyes at her as she fell back on the bed laughing.

" We're going over there.  And I swear to God, he's soooo fucking gay."

I hope you all enjoyed this.  I think it'll be a fun story to write and hopefully, for you, to read!!  I'm a complete attention whore, so send all questions, criticisms, or whatever to me at my email.

If you'd like to read any other stories by me, you can find them around Nifty, or check out my author page at Gay Authors.

This story is Copyright 2009, Jon T. lappin