heretics

01. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DADDY

                                                                       WARNING: drug use 

     Valerie Russo's worn out, drawn on pair of red vans stomp their way into the deli. She uses her last $6 on two bacon egg and cheese sandwiches on kaiser rolls this spring morning, telling them to hold the ketchup on only one of them.

She can't hear the clerk say "what?" because she's blasting Le Tigre through her now outdated earbuds covered by her unbrushed dirty blonde locks. She makes a point every morning to start her day with music made by women. Her sandwiches are made, and she got a free coffee with it. She half-smiles. "See you tomorrow. And the next day. Until next time," she kicks her skateboard that was leaning against the door under her feet, making her way down the street, while unwrapping her sandwich with ease. She bites into it, and immediately spits it out into a trail of weeds growing in between the cracks of the concrete. Inside her brain, her gardener phase weeps.

"Fucking ketchup," She sighs, skating towards an alleyway, finding her friend Rob. Rob is homeless, and she feels partially responsible, because she sold him pills once, which to her limited knowledge, she assumed led to an addiction for him that made him lose his house. So, to put a band-aid over her guilt, whenever she can, she gets him breakfast and pays him a visit. Sometimes, she brings him books she finished that she thinks he'd like. If she were rich, she'd get herself an apartment, her dad an apartment, and Rob one. And that's all.

Also maybe a real authentic leather jacket now that she's out of her vegan phase, but that's really thinking ahead.

"Hey Rob!" She nods her head towards the stoop he sat on, and tosses the extra sandwich in his hands. He smiles.

"Sup, Val?" He asks genuinely, unwrapping his sandwich.

"Ugh, the usual," she sighs. "Nothing new. ever," She stares blankly at the concrete, then snaps herself out of it. "I have a deal I have to run after this, college boys. So that should be fun."

Rob laughs, his arm covering his full mouth. "You better give 'em hell if they mess with you, girl."

She widens her eyes. "You act like you've never met me! You can count on that." She feels the weight of the other sandwich in her hands, reminding her of the ketchup. "Oh, by the way, if you get hungry later, they put ketchup on mine and I hate it sooooooo here." She hands him the other sandwich awkwardly.

"You sure you don't want it? You paid for it."

She nodded. "Promise. Can't stand tomatoes."

"Aren't you Italian?"

"Yes, I'm failing our God, Robert De Niro himself, I know, I've heard it many times before." She chuckles a bit, kicking her skateboard under her feet again. "I'll see you whenever. Have a good day, Rob."

"As good as I can!"

________________________________________________________________________

    Max Beckherd shouldn't be driving.

He had just come from Ben's apartment, who got him sizably wine drunk for 5 pm on a thursday. They were watching The Parent Trap, laying on the couch with their shirts unbuttoned and decorated with popcorn crumbs. A quick glance and cringe at Max's watch saved him from his streetwise ecstasy plug witness him get emotional over two Lindsay Lohans.

"Fuck, I'm gon' miss dad's birt-day," He slurred, slowly buttoning his floral printed t-shirt and finishing his wine glass. He got distracted by his sweatpants strings tied in multiple knots and giggled. "You seein' this, Benji?"