Weird and Weirder

CH1. Josh POV - Sympathy for the Devil

Chapter One - Josh's POV

Sympathy for the Devil

If I could choose a soundtrack for my life it would be Sympathy for the Devil by The Rolling Stones. And it's not just because of the maracas playing in the background to make my life sound exotic, or because I do know an Anastasia who screamed way too much, but because I do play a game and I find the idea of never forgetting evil is always lurking around the corner appealing.

And today, the devil is wearing worn out Chuck Taylors, worn out jeans, and an equally worn out Beatles shirt—the irony from that and the Rolling Stones reference is blatant—though worn out is the last word that I would use to describe that girl.

That girl. That's the only denominative I have for her. Well, that's not true, I can find very colourful names for her, but the point is, I don't know her name. I don't know the first thing about the girl—just that she's smoking hot, and I haven't been able to take my eyes off of her for the past eight weeks, every weekend when she comes to the flea market. For as much game as I believe I have I'm completely stump when it comes to her. I don't know how to approach her, I don't know how to start a conversation, hell, I'm pretty sure I'd forget basic motor skills if I came within two feet of her. It's ridiculous because I'm AWE-some when it comes to picking up chicks. I'm a king at picking up chicks. Sure, picking up chicks in a flea market, that's wouldn't be my first option but there's just a spark in that girl's blue eyes, a spark that just screams trouble. And I want in.

I just don't know how to get in. It's never happened to me before. All I've been able to do so far when I see her is to just look from afar.

I hate to admit this but I kind of feel like my not-blood-related little brother Blake who's completely head over heels in love with this Not-Stripper-Lexi girl. He claims he's madly in love with her but he can't even start a conversation with the girl. It's been like this for seven years.

I really hope it won't take a decade of me selling crap at a flea market to final have the guts to confess my unrequited feelings.

Backtracking here, I don't have feelings, I have tingly sensations in my pants, but not feelings. Feelings are too big a thing for me to have.

I'm interested. She's interesting.

I think she's looking my way.

God damn it. I freeze. I forget what to do with my hands. I'm sweating. I'm actually stinking sweating right now. What the doolally-deuce?

"Jack?" I ask the guy selling old videogames beside me, "can you check my tables? I need to go to the bathroom real quick," I ask him and I'm running away before he can even nod.

When did I become that much of a mess? When I get to the bathroom I brace myself on the sink. I splash cold water on my face. I think about maybe flushing my head down the toilet. When did I become such a melodramatic floozy? I seriously need to stop hanging around with Blake. His wacky feelings are starting to creep up on me. I don't like this. I don't like freaking out and not knowing what to do when I see a girl.

I always know what to do. I always know what to say, even if it's the wrong thing. I gotta admit, it's very rarely the right thing. I'm not a right kind of guy. I'm more of an inappropriate kind of guy. No girl has ever introduced me to her father. I pity the father who's going to have to meet me one day.

My own father already hates me enough as it is. Fine, he doesn't hate me, he's just disappointed with me.

Everybody usually is. I'm a big disappointment.

Oh god... am I really feeling sorry about myself in a public restroom?

No wonder I'm such a disappointment.

The door of the restroom opens and I instinctively look to see who walks in, like it might be a surprise, when it normally never is.

But today is not a normal day.

That girl walks in. She just walks right in like it's the most natural thing in the world, like I'm not staring at her like a moron.

"Oh don't mind me," she says and I swear we almost reach the zenith in my pants. I hadn't expected her voice to be this hot. I should have. I should have expected this girl to be perfect. It's soft with just the right hint of raspy. Her voice I mean. It sends chill up my spine. "All the girls seemed to be taking shits in there and I'm kind of in a hurry," she adds and I'm so engrossed by the sound of her voice that I don't fully register what she's saying.

At least, nothing in what she just said prepares me for what comes next.

Because this impossibly perfect girl just walks up to me, grabs the collar of my shirt, pushes me against the wall and kisses the soul out of me.