Bedtime Stories

"Tell me a story!" Terry's chin pierced solidly into his chest, crestfallen. Moments after turning out the lights on what he thought was his slumbering drunken room mate. The slurred speech twisted his words into a single, nearly incomprehensible word. Terry could feel his night slipping away from him. Every alternating Saturday in Terry's work schedule during college football season, he found himself babysitting his roommate Frank. Frank has a standard stool at O'Malley's every Saturday beginning at 9am, hours before any game began. Frank had a tendency to become the alumni of any team with a large following at the bar on any given day. Today was the University of Iowa alumni group doing shots for every punt forced. It was a good day for the Hawkeyes.

"I'm not hearing any yarns being spun!" Frank's sense of time was slipping and his grasp on his esophagus was serviceable at best as "spun" was cut short with a guttural eruption. A wobbly arm rose slowly from the bed like a mummy in an old horror movie before a clumsy snapping sound was heard. Terry glanced out the door to the stairway down to the noise of his friends arriving. Shoulders slumped, he returned to his inebriated companion whose snapping fingers had lost the ability to make more than a subtle slapping sound as he continued to fail on his snaps.

"Well, what kind of story do you want to hear, little man?" If Frank was going to act like a child, Terry though, then I'll would treat him as such.

"I don't knoooooow. Just tell me something to make the room stop spinning." Frank bragged about his iron stomach claiming stories helped for his mind to focus and keep the room from spinning and tossing him into a bucket. He never bought into the "quitters" as he called the people who believed they would feel better the next day if they vomited when they had too much to drink instead of fighting it. A collection of audio books were kept on his mp3 player for such an occasion as when NPR was in music mode or, if drunk enough early enough, if "Wait, Wait Don't Tell Me" is on.

The sound of something heavy falling downstairs increasing the urgency to put Frank out of his misery quickly. "Alright. I've got a story for you. Once upon a time in this very room, a poorly shaved slob of a man decided to grace the world with his lumpy form on the beach by the lake."

"It's too cold for the beach today." Frank could be imagined to be pouting though Terry could not see with Frank's face buried deep in his pillow.

"That's why I started with 'once upon a time'. It didn't have to be upon today's time."

"Oh."

"So off to the beach you go with your towel, your 5 SPF because you are too stupid to avoid burning and old school style boom box that you unconvincingly hide a six pack inside."

"I did that ONCE!" Frank swatted blindly in the air nearly slapping Terry from his seat now at the edge of the bed. Sliding a little farther out of arm's reach, Terry hurries back into the tale.

"Well, on this day, you tried and succeeded as nobody cared about your drinking due to the fact that the beach was been ravaged by a GIANT KILLER SCORPION FROM THE SEA!" Terry paused hoping for silence and getting a muffled chuckle in return.

"You drop your beer filled electronics and tube of sunscreen in terror as you back away from the enormous arachnid over body parts of fellow beach visitors."

"Crustacean!" Terry shook his head. Frank got a D in Biology in college and thought he was an expert at everything.

"It's in the spider family."

"How many spiders have you seen at the beach?"

"Scorpions are in most desert stories. They live in the sand."

"So it came from the sand, not the sea."

"A huge ass scorpion FROM THE SAND is lumbering down the beach clipping limbs and shearing bodies in half. The blood is turning the beach into a mile long kitchen sponge soaking up the nicks and cuts of a million botched dices and juliennes."

"Rough chopped? Sliced? Brunoise? Minced? Chiffonaded?"

"What? Yes. Right." The confusion drifted in and out quickly as Terry remembered Frank's obsession with Food Network. "A chiffonade of legs with minced piles of brains! Mashed eyeballs and a brunoise of liver! Intestines drug out for the lengthiest sausage you've ever seen..."

Frank began to chuckle and mumble under his breath. Terry tentatively leaned in and slowly processed the word he was chuckling. "Sausage."

"This is ridiculous. Moving along. You rush for the tunnel under the street by the beach but are spotted by the thing's beady little eyes. It clamors over beach umbrellas, briefly gets tangled in a volleyball net and paused to bat a lemonade stand aside like a small insect. You clomp and stomp noisily towards your salvation, but the beast closes in on you running to the tunnel because you are a man wearing flip flops in public and unable to run away. Thus your last breath is nigh and deserved. The beast lifts you in the air from the small of your back and begins spinning you like a basketball around and around and around. The world spins around you blending colors and lights into a swirling cloud of imminent death. To reiterate, you are about to die and being spun around and around and around and arou..."

Two hands grasp Terry unexpectedly feels two hands shove him away. He lands hard on the ground watching Frank leap over him in a rush to the bathroom. The sounds of a "quitter" fill the hall. Terry lifts himself from the ground and walks back downstairs to the gathered friend in a world where it is still only 7pm and everyone else is still sober.

Annie

She has been training her eyes to see through it all. She's been on the valedictorian track since freshman year, but, three years later, she has yet to make any social impact. As much as she tries to be seen and be heard, only her teachers will really listen. She spends weekends alone with her family working around the house on projects her parents have put together for gardening and renovations. As much as she enjoys the time spent with family, this is not by choice.

Annie has struggled to fit in despite growing up with everyone in the community. When she had a birthday party at age 5, everyone was there. By age 10, the ones that were still at her parties had become transparent in their unwillingness to be there. At least her parents had friends and means to get them to bring their kids to the party. The shift from children with no real insight on each other to young men and women learning that they have a choice of who they should be and be associated with was too much for Annie. She spent time on the fringe in the hallways listening to the cliches that she was not a part of to find out what she was missing.

After years of imparting herself into each group as a floating body, Annie began infiltrating each with some subtle suggestions. In Chemistry, she noted to Christine that she liked the drawings on her book cover of the griffin. It reminds me of my favorite role playing game, she had started and continued as Christine's eyes widened. Annie was successful at becoming part of the role playing cliche, but only in the moments when the group was gathered away from everyone else.

When she was with the athletic group, she was the runner who followed the track circuit and marathoners in professional competition and Olympics. With the drama group, she quoted plays and songs from musicals. Annie found herself going from group to group so often that she no longer had alone time between any classes on any given day. Her grades began to slip steadily with the effort she was putting in to fit into the molds each group had her set into. She had no time for studying she realized one Wednesday night as she found herself slipping into bed after midnight having had no time to put into her studies.

"I feel like Jane Goodall with the apes. I've associated myself so well that I could be one of any of them, but who does that make me? They have all latched onto an identity they have chosen for themselves, but I don't see anything in any of them that I can identify with. They all think I'm something different, but I'm no longer a person when I'm alone as if I only exist in someone else's head", she says to no one.

The next day, Annie attempted to return to her place in society as the studious book worm she had been before, but found her new standing in each group threatening that. She declined time to discuss the preference on number of sides to a die for gaming and if training for a run in bursts of high to low speeds was better than a straight steady pace for a long distance. She shook her head each time someone gave her a quote from a play or line from a song as she did not recognize them in some cases and, in most cases, was too preoccupied catching up on homework to give any thought. Within days, she was an outsider again.

For three weeks, Annie settled back into her groove of spending all of her time working on school work and with her family at home. The phone calls slowly ceased from the different groups, but she did not notice for a couple more weeks when she suddenly started missing the calls. Annie found the reentry to be nearly impossible. She was beginning to understand the concept of burning bridges behind her.

One night, Annie slept soundly. She awoke feeling as refreshed as she ever remembered feeling. She smiled in the morning out of pure happiness and her eyes settled into every piece of the morning from brushing and flossing her teeth to the scarf she tied around her neck as she prepared to walk out the front door. She made one final stop in her parents' bedroom before heading out the door and off to school.

Through the front doors, Annie travelled into the long corridor of people she had pretended to truly know. She felt a burning in her chest that did not upset her. The burning heated up her face and the smile that formed there was sickly and frightening to anyone who may have noticed her. She was sure nobody did notice her.

"I had a wonderful dream last night," she stated in a voice too weak to pierce the cluster of noises from group after group of friends engulfed in their own discussions. Undaunted, she tried again. "I had a wonderful dream last night," she shouted to the full hallway and reached into her backpack. The hallway quieted for a moment and some groups started to turn her way when they placed where the shout had come from. A young man in her class she had never noticed coincidentally as he was in her same outsider circle grabbed her and pulled her into the empty classroom. He held the wrist of her hand deep in her back pack.

"I don't have a good feeling about your intentions with that smile and the focused intent of your hand in that bag. Can you please spread your fingers wide and pull your hand back out?" Neal's frightened eyes met the half crazed eyes of Annie. He felt her fight with his hand to hold onto the surprise in her bag. "Please, Annie."

It could have been the please repeated to her with those pleading eyes, but Annie would later realize it was the use of her name that snapped her out of her psychotic break. The realization that she was an actual person to someone she did not know and had put no false pretenses into went a long ways towards breaking her down. She pulled her hand out empty and dropped the bag to the ground. Annie backed away almost surprised when the bag fell open and the handgun from her parents' bedroom slipped out. Neal barely registered that actual sight of the gun having already convinced himself of what she had been reaching for moments earlier.

They talked for an hour outside of the school skipping their first period classes. Neal comforted Annie telling her she was not alone. He was the second in line for valedictorian behind her and had always watched her in awe. He was not jealous of her ability, he was in love with it. When Annie slipped off the academic radar for a bit, he did his own investigation and saw how she had conformed herself to the multitude of seemingly self assured students in their class. It turned out that Neal was one of the few students actually sure of himself and his place in life.

He explained to Annie how the loner role was not really the shunned outcast of the world when it came to high school. Neal had observed the same groups Annie was pushing herself into, but from the individual stand point. When Annie and the majority of the group left the hallway, Neal observed a single group member at her locker or staring at himself in the mirror in the restroom. Outside of the group, the people Annie was jealous enough of to want to shoot were less sure of their place in life than even she was before she lost herself.

Annie went back on her track and ended up narrowly beating out Neal for the speech at graduation. She thanked her fellow students for teaching her something in her four years in that high school. She spoke of a sense of camaraderie and a sense of purpose, but she urged each student to find out who they were individually and not to settle for anything less than what they truly desired in life. She accepted the applause knowing well that most were not paying attention and many would not understand her words until years later when the truly valuable time of learning about themselves was nearly over. Neal stood the longest and clapped the loudest to Annie's ears. Life for each of them was wide open.


There's something in the way she makes believe, please be careful, Annie dreams that everyone is dead. - Our Lady Peace

The Series Hits A Speed Bump

"Dear ABC/Producers of Great American Bachelor,

My name is Tyler Gantry and you may know me as the newly selected bachelor for the next season of your show. I am excited about the opportunity to be apart of the show and enter into my journey towards finding my one true love from the 25 or so you have selected because you know me better than my parents and sister and friends who have done a horrible job with blind dates in the past. Especially my sister. She actually set me up with a transvestite once. I don't think she was insinuating anything, but I do think she was drunk or on something hallucinogenic, but I digress. That is not the intent of this letter.

When I was suggested to you by Rachel, my ex-girlfriend as you know, we had been apart for three months. She was dating and feeling guilty about breaking my heart and wanted to see me happy again. Something happened during whatever letter she wrote you and she started thinking about all of the great things she had to say about me. As she thought about what she had sent, she began thinking of how the guys she was dating after me all seemed to be missing things on that list. In the past two weeks, we've begun seeing each other again and have become more connected than when we split up. We started where we left off and I feel ecstatic to tell you that we are more in love than ever. That brings me to the point of this email.

I am aware that I have a contract to start shooting episodes in a week from today. However, I do not feel it is fair to the women chosen and the fans of the show to go on the show and lie about trying to find love when I am back in a happy relationship again. If you feel the need to bring legal action, I understand. If you have any flexibility and no back up bachelors, I have a suggestion that may rectify the situation. My best friend, Davis, is a great guy. We have the same sense of humor and interests. Davis has a good job and a good family life. I am also told and aware that he is an attractive man that I believe you will have no problem marketing for the show. The only thing is, well, he's kind of married. I say kind of because they are separated. no kids, just married but separated.

Before you roll your eyes and get your lawyers on the phone, I plead of you to think about the option. Davis Baker is a great guy with a failing relationship. You are always looking for good candidates and a new angle. What better angle than a man still married looking for what he's missing and what went wrong in his own marriage while he's still in it. I guarantee he will break down a few times during the run of the series.

Thank you and I'm sorry again,

Tyler Gantry"

The Big Sleep Interrupted

Tony felt the shots to his chest nearly hearing the thud as each shot hit his ribs. The overwhelming sense of gravity kicked in as he felt the hardwood crack under his skull as he dropped to the floor. The shade on the lamp next to him on the table rattled threatening to tip before settling on the base again. The shock to the back of his head signalled the ringing in his ears. The lights appeared to flick off and on as if in a muzzle flash. A form appeared above him muffled voice coming to him softly in his ringing ears.

"Have a nice flight!" The mocking tone he imagined in the voice brought up images of bad villain lines from past movies or even worse hero lines in final scenes where the bad guy dies. The points in his chest ached from the earlier strike, but did not feel like he had been shot anymore. He was distracted by the ringing and the weariness in his brain he attributed to the slow creepy decline into eternal slumber. In his waning thoughts, he began to assess his recent times and reveal who would sneak into his home and assassinate him in his sleep.

He worked in an office entering data from credit card applications received in the mail. He knew each of the ten others working around him, but no one else in the company except for the man who had hired him. In the past week, he had eaten with everyone he worked with at least once. Larry laughed at Tony's lame knock knock joke he had stolen from an episode of The Office the night before. Simi and Terri had bought him lunch when he left his wallet on his desk last Monday, but he had paid them back and they had seemed to have forgotten he owed them money. Tim, Janice, Fred, Joe and Margret took him out for drinks Friday night to celebrate a strong week of over 10,000 applications entered as a new record for the team. Timo and Angie could not make the happy hour, but they had pitched in for a round and taken off in their enamoured haze as newlyweds. His boss had given them all bonuses for work well done. His work place could not have been the source of the assault.

He had met no one knew in the past month. He had walked home quietly in solitude to his wife without so much as jaywalking to upset anyone. He had come home a bit too intoxicated for his wife's preference the night before when the happy hour ended. She had ordered take out like they do on Friday nights, but he was late and she ate alone. He had apologized several time for not calling, but she had never seemed to drop the grudge. It couldn't be his wife, could it? Could she have actually been so angry at his tardiness as to shoot him? It couldn't be, he thought. We don't even own a gun. We hate guns.

The initial shock was wearing off and he now realized he was actually getting warmer instead of colder on the floor. He reached down and felt his chest coming up empty for blood seeping out of open wounds. He was fine. There was no assassination. He had fallen from bed and now lay next to the space heater trying to recover his breath. Pressing his right hand firmly against the floor he got up to find his wife looking at him with a slight smile through drowsy eyes. The clock marked the time as 3:48am. He crawled slowly back to bed and curled on his side facing his wife as she closed her eyes and seemingly slipped back into her dream world.

After five minutes of closed eyes attempts at a return to sleep, the aching died in his chest and he began to doze off barely aware of the sound of shifting sheets as sparks jumped in front of his closed eyes. A sharp aching arose from his groin. He opened his eyes to look down and find his wife's knee solidly lodged between his thighs. The assault was on again. Tony slipped out of bed and walked towards the bedroom door to get some ice from the kitchen. From behind him, he heard a whisper chase him out. "Don't forget to call next time."

In Case Of Monty...

Em G A
A man came to my door today
At first he didn't have much to say
Then with a wink and a smile he opened his case
And insurance forms were strewn all over the place

He handed me his card, his name was Monty
His hand shake was as steady as it was crushing
The first form showed me pictures of him
Ransacking my neighbors house and killing old Jim

F C G
He pointed at the price on page one
F C B
He showed before after pictures he'd done
He pushed me to my couch, he crushed my favorite chair
He began his pitch as I started to stare
And he said...

G A D
Mmmmm mmmmm mmmmmm Maybe I'll crush you
mmmm mmmm mmmmmm Oh what can you do
mmmm mmmm mmmmmm Maybe I'll kill you
Mmmm mmmm mmmmmm Oh what can you do

The words were confusing but the motions were clear
He emphasized each word while building up fear
He ripped off his bow tie and I saw with a jolt
On the left and the right protruded each bolt

Stuttering I begged him please to just leave
He took my muttering as mocking and started to seize
He tore down my TV, he ripped out the fan
Then he started to cry far too much for a man
He pointed again at the prices quoted
I began to question his violent motive...

G A D
Mmmmm mmmmm mmmmmm crush you
mmmm mmmm mmmmmm what can you do
mmmm mmmm mmmmmm kill you
Mmmm mmmm mmmmmm what can you do

He was green and frightening, he stood ten feet tall
His clothes were hand tailored, he could not shop at the mall
He terrorized people with his tremendous power
But at least he was nice enough to give that poor girl that flower

I settled him down and sat him on the ground
He started to breath heavy, what a frightening sound
His story was sad, his history was grim
He was made in a lab, his career options were slim

The doctor had never given him a name
From a fruit cup, up with a new name he came
His resume was weak, his experience was none
Telemarketing was out, he thought it no fun

I felt sorry for him and we worked out a plan
I bought a policy to protect me from a man
who knew no real father, he had no mother
His first word groaned, villagers he'd smother
When life gave him lemons, he crushed them
He now made his living. when the uninsured saw him

G A D
Mmmmm mmmmm mmmmmm crush you
mmmm mmmm mmmmmm what can you do
mmmm mmmm mmmmmm kill you
Mmmm mmmm mmmmmm what can you do

G A D
Mmmmm mmmmm mmmmmm crush you
mmmm mmmm mmmmmm what can you do
mmmm mmmm mmmmmm low deductible
Mmmm mmmm mmmmmm what can you do

Grazed and Confused

Jeffrey stared out the grime stained windows of the bus at cow grazing off the side of the road. He daydreamed about what it would be like to not have a care in the world but to roam and eat grass. He would happily live in ignorance of the imminent danger he would always be in even as he was taken in on occasion to be milked. He would still roam carefree attributing the milking in his cow brain to that of necessary doctor visits or a car tune up. Yes, even as a cow, Jeffrey feels he would understand the internal combustion engine and the need for preventative maintenance. On the day he would be taken in for the slaughter, he would no doubt daydream about this patchy bearded man on a bus broken down on the side of the road and think how wonderful life must be not to be a cow.

"What the fook is taking so long!" Timothy paced the aisle impatiently waiting for the repair truck that was called an hour prior to arrive. Jeffrey had agreed to take the bus because Timothy was terrified of flying in a plane and thought a bus trip might do him good. Jeffrey figured they would both have time to figure out what to say when they saw her in Dallas. Jeffrey knew she was waiting for Timothy after running away to her parents' home outside of Dallas four months ago. She had told Timothy not to come down there, but after months of unreturned phone calls, she answered two days ago. Timothy begged her to let him explain what had happened, but she didn't want to hear it. He begged her to allow him to apologize in person at least. Jeffrey thought it odd that she had agreed, but he was anxious to see her again too. He had a confession of his own.

"Are they flying a special mechanic in from fookin' Germany?" Jeffrey could always tell when Timothy was frustrated because he always spoke in his modified swearing like a man with an accent he's worked years to lose, but always returns to in fits of anger. Timothy was born and raised in Iowa, but had grown up with his mother trying not swear in front of her child. The twisted vulgarity would stick with him through high school and get him mocked when he tried to go on a tirade against the running back of the football team for bumping him in the cafeteria.

"Watch where the fook you're going, cook stalker! I'd rip your brain out of your axe if I could find it, dip head." Brant Fising had stared at him unsure if he should be angry before patting Timothy on the shoulder and saying, "sorry about that, foreign dude" and walking away. Jeffrey had been friends with Timothy ever since that day.

"She'll be waiting for us at the bus station and my phone is dead thanks to the reception out the middle of fookin' nowhere Kansas!" Timothy pivoted like point guard to reverse his pacing and stopped to apologize to a woman and her 5 year old son for his vulgar tone. She told him it was fine. As he walked away, Jeffrey could hear the five year old call Timothy an asshole as he walked away. There wasn't much chance Timothy was going to affect the mannerisms of a young child who had probably spent more time in bus stations with odd ways about them than in this delayed trip south with Timothy.

"I could give her a call. I have reception and my phone is charged." Jeffrey reached into his pocket for the phone, but Timothy grew panicked and waved Jeffrey away from his pocket.

"Yeah. We'll call her on your phone and then she'll know I was too afraid to come see her alone. I'm sure that would begin our reconciliation just great." Timothy made another point guard pivot and began his pacing again. Jeffrey was going stir crazy in the back of the bus watching his friend nervously pace in the aisle.

"I'm going to hop out and see if I can figure anything out. My sister is a mechanic after all." Timothy stopped and gestured toward the back door like a man without much faith in his friend's ability, but wanted to humor him anyways. Jeffrey didn't care. He wasn't going out to look at the engine. He wanted to call Denise regardless of what Timothy wanted.

Jeffrey pressed his way through the rear doors of the bus and the driver came at him with both palms out waving frantically for Jeffrey not to leave the bus. Jeffrey pulled out his cell phone and shook it gently in the air. "I need to call and make sure the person I'm meeting knows we are going to be delayed and my friend will drive me insane if I call in there. I'll stay within 10 feet of the bus, alright?"

Begrudgingly, the driver dropped his hand and went back to staring at the steaming pile of engine in the rear panel of the bus. Jeffrey flipped open his phone and hit 7 on speed dial. He rarely met new people and had had no reason to reassign the speed dial since Denise had left. He listened to the static and ringing as the traded off at the speaker at his ear. After four rings and expecting to get an answering machine or voice mail, Denise picked up sounding like she had been sleeping.

"Uhh, good morning?" Jeffrey slapped his forehead forgetting that they had left on a 4am bus and had only been traveling for a couple of hours. It was still early morning on a Saturday. He listened to the rustling on the other end of the phone as Denise sounded as if she were turning on her pillow to see the clock. He heard her mumble something about six in the morning at a distance and he figured she was taking another look at caller ID.

"Jeffrey? What do you want? Is something wrong? Are you drunk? Still awake from last nights?" The concern in her voice for him was appreciated but unnecessary in his mind. If I get a 6am phone call from an old friend, I just assume they are drunk still, Jeffrey thought.

"Nothing is wrong. I just wanted to call and see what you are doing today? Any big plans for this, a random Saturday in September?" He had decided to play it vague in the hope that she wouldn't pick up that he was with Timothy on the trip to see her.

"Really? You decide to call me at 6am to chat about my day? What is wrong with you? Let me sleep, for the love of god. I'm on a trip to Phoenix for work and have to spend the weekend here. I was really hoping to sleep in before I have to get up and start working again, but I guess you've killed that. Thanks, friend." Jeffrey flipped his phone closed quickly like it mike explode if he didn't end the call. He had hoped she might slip back to sleep and forget he had called. Unfortunately, he would not be able to lose the fact that she was in Phoenix and would have had plenty of time to let Timothy know before the trip that she would not be in Dallas this weekend. Unless Timothy had another reason for bringing him down there. Jeffrey found he had now joined Timothy in nervous pacing as an over sized tow truck arrived on the scene.

Dorene

Dorene sat behind the battered brown steering wheel waiting for the stop light to blink out to green tapping her nails on the wheel to the song on the radio. The final guitar wail ended with a crash of drums and the next song began filtering in through her speakers. The drums rolled in slowly with a cymbal tapping for emphasis as a deep voice began to hum the melody. She could see the light for the cross road turning yellow as the voice began to sing.

Dorene, why you got to be so mean
Dorene, what's your problem with me
Dorene with the beater Ford escort
Dorene, why did you tear out my heart

Dorene stopped tapping and stared down at the radio. She glanced to the passenger dash staring at the Ford symbol emblazoned there. The honking of horns behind her reminded her that the light was turning green. She looked back to the street and stepped on the accelerator as the first verse started up.

Color of her hair don't mean a thing
Her black black heart didn't want the ring
She straddles some guy like a parking cone
She's done with me, her cheating is known

The honking was back again as Dorene looked in the rear view mirror and realized the cars parked on the street were no longer slipping past her. She had stopped her escort completely half a block from the next light. Noticing an open spot in front of a fire hydrant, Dorene jerked the wheel to the right and slammed on the pedal to move out of the flow of traffic as the singing continued.

Her eye a deep green, she was blind to me
A wandering gaze follows ever man she sees
Spiteful hand grabs a handful of denim
That should be me, but that is him

Dorene, why you got to be so mean
Dorene, what's your problem with me
Dorene with her wandering stare
Dorene, sees lovers everywhere

Dorene sat with her foot on the brake pedal trying to think through her past loves for anyone who would have been tied to the music industry in any way. Frank had been a bartender and knew bands, but they had never been anything serious but a few random nights on spring. She definitely had never cheated on him. Tom had been heart broken by her, but he was a computer programmer who didn't listen to much music. Darren had been hot headed which was part of what she had loved about him, but he had left her and he could not have known she cheated when she went away for a conference for work. A wave of male faces swirled in her vision. The sheer number was a bit unsettling. A voice cut into her head telling her that the song can't be her. It could be anyone, the voice said.

Dorene exhaled as she accepted it was just a coincidence. The bridge dashed those hopes quickly.

Her tattoo on her hips, she only let slip
For the men not me, that she slipped off to see
The ink covered birth mark, green as her eyes, black as her heart
A miller's daughter for me, a whore she turned out to be

Too much coincidence to ignore, Dorene knew the song was about her. She had a tattoo of a pot of gold with a green shamrock on her hip she had placed there to cover a scar from her birth. Even the last line was a reference to her. Her father was a marketing manager, but her last name is Miller. How many people she knew would recognize the song was about her? Would Ben know? She sucked in what air she could find in the suddenly confined interior of her car. No boyfriend had ever known about her indiscretions and she had never cared enough about a man to worry about being faithful until Ben.

Dorene, this song is for you
Dorene, you belong in a zoo
Dorene, you already work there now
Dorene, how do you like me now

Dorene stared in wide eyed terror at the specificity of the final chorus. Someone was going to suffer for this. She stared with tears in her eyes waiting for the song name and band, but it never came.