Hey Buddy!
I was going for a walk in the morning. Headphones on. Okay, I’d smoked before I left, there is some new theory about getting high before exercising, it is supposed to relax you, so you know I’d be all for it. Nina Simon was singing the blues.
Some guy stood in my way. He said, “Hey you,” and I brushed him off. Or did he say, hey it is you.” Nina sang, my mans gone now. I looked back, as you do, to try and mouth sorry, or whatever it is you do. He was looking back. Did I know him? No. Just a kid in a beanie. Nice eyes.
There is a message on my phone. “Now we find out if you gave me a false number the other day…”
False number? There is no use, wails Nina. The other day. I never gave my… oh? Widow Peak Boy.
I look back, he is out of sight.
Nina is too much. I change to the Rockmellons. I start to jog. The boy at the lights. Nice dick on him. Oh, yes, that was him.
I look down at the message on my screen. Yes, I guess this is the point at which we learn if I was sincere, or not. Was I sincere? You know, I probably wasn’t. Just a quickie, really. I wince. I could feel my cheeks ache.
The joint was relaxing, I settled into a slow jog. Step, step, step.
How would I feel? How would I feel, if I was him? “Hey You!” Hey you? Too young. I had to answer though, it was kind of catch 22. If I answer, I’ll probably damage my Prince Charming like reputation thus far, anyway. Ha, ha. If I don’t answer, it looks like the number was false in the first place, proving that I was a louse all a long.
The Rockmellons guy singer has a magnificent voice.
I jog a bit, tried to clear my mind again. I couldn’t.
I had to answer. Tell the truth, that’s all you can do. I message back. was that too blunt. I sent the following message send. Immediately regretted that. Too friendly. Do I want to be that friendly?
Good to see you again, he text back.
Keeping fit, I sent back. We’d made contact now, I might as well. I just wanted to keep the conversation going, once we’d started talking.
You looked fit, he messaged back.
That could be the end of the conversation, I thought. I’d responded, had been quite friendly and all. Job done. Everyone can leave happy. I slid my phone in my pocket and ran to the music.
So, is that it? Tim messaged 10 minutes later.
What did I think? He’d shown enthusiasm, in the very least. What did I think? No, that didn’t have to be it. I text back. It didn’t have to be it. Nothing has to be it? Even if you don’t exactly want more. I mean, what is it going to cost me? What is it going to cost me? Nothing. Just being friendly.
Good, he messaged back.
It made me smile, I have to be honest. Nice boy Tim, with his olive skin and his dark, thick hair, and his widow’s peak. Adorable. What am I to do? I am only made of flesh, after all?
12.00am. Walking down Smith Street, stoned, wishing I’d popped a mint, looking for a kebab.
Aint no sunshine plays in my ears.
I get this message. “If I said I was walking down Smith Street, where would that put you?”
I ordered the kebab first. Then I messaged, “Walking down Smith Street.” Too corny, I thought as soon as I sent it.
I was standing on Smith Street eating my kebab, when New Grove started playing in my ears. The first song I really fucked to. Cars lined the street in a sea of red and white lights flashing and blinking. People laughed, yelled, called out across the street. Music came up the street.
Then he was standing in front of me, with headphones on smiling. He text me. “I’ve got my own kebab.”
New groove in the neighbourhood. We danced around one another, shuffling, really, real slow, listening to our own music, that just happened to be in he same time, we rocked and ate our kebabs.
He’s cute, no really cute. Adorable, really.
I nodded in the direction of my place and we both headed towards my place. I had the perfect soundtrack running in my ears. We walked next to each other, eating our kebabs, sneaking sideways looks at one another.
He’s like a really sexy Eddie Munster, well, Eddie Munster grown up ten years. Sexy Tim. Big dick Tim. Big everything, Tim. He’s a fit boy, as they say.
Some guy stood in my way. He said, “Hey you,” and I brushed him off. Or did he say, hey it is you.” Nina sang, my mans gone now. I looked back, as you do, to try and mouth sorry, or whatever it is you do. He was looking back. Did I know him? No. Just a kid in a beanie. Nice eyes.
There is a message on my phone. “Now we find out if you gave me a false number the other day…”
False number? There is no use, wails Nina. The other day. I never gave my… oh? Widow Peak Boy.
I look back, he is out of sight.
Nina is too much. I change to the Rockmellons. I start to jog. The boy at the lights. Nice dick on him. Oh, yes, that was him.
I look down at the message on my screen. Yes, I guess this is the point at which we learn if I was sincere, or not. Was I sincere? You know, I probably wasn’t. Just a quickie, really. I wince. I could feel my cheeks ache.
The joint was relaxing, I settled into a slow jog. Step, step, step.
How would I feel? How would I feel, if I was him? “Hey You!” Hey you? Too young. I had to answer though, it was kind of catch 22. If I answer, I’ll probably damage my Prince Charming like reputation thus far, anyway. Ha, ha. If I don’t answer, it looks like the number was false in the first place, proving that I was a louse all a long.
The Rockmellons guy singer has a magnificent voice.
I jog a bit, tried to clear my mind again. I couldn’t.
I had to answer. Tell the truth, that’s all you can do. I message back.
Good to see you again, he text back.
Keeping fit, I sent back. We’d made contact now, I might as well. I just wanted to keep the conversation going, once we’d started talking.
You looked fit, he messaged back.
That could be the end of the conversation, I thought. I’d responded, had been quite friendly and all. Job done. Everyone can leave happy. I slid my phone in my pocket and ran to the music.
So, is that it? Tim messaged 10 minutes later.
What did I think? He’d shown enthusiasm, in the very least. What did I think? No, that didn’t have to be it.
Good, he messaged back.
It made me smile, I have to be honest. Nice boy Tim, with his olive skin and his dark, thick hair, and his widow’s peak. Adorable. What am I to do? I am only made of flesh, after all?
12.00am. Walking down Smith Street, stoned, wishing I’d popped a mint, looking for a kebab.
Aint no sunshine plays in my ears.
I get this message. “If I said I was walking down Smith Street, where would that put you?”
I ordered the kebab first. Then I messaged, “Walking down Smith Street.” Too corny, I thought as soon as I sent it.
I was standing on Smith Street eating my kebab, when New Grove started playing in my ears. The first song I really fucked to. Cars lined the street in a sea of red and white lights flashing and blinking. People laughed, yelled, called out across the street. Music came up the street.
Then he was standing in front of me, with headphones on smiling. He text me. “I’ve got my own kebab.”
New groove in the neighbourhood. We danced around one another, shuffling, really, real slow, listening to our own music, that just happened to be in he same time, we rocked and ate our kebabs.
He’s cute, no really cute. Adorable, really.
I nodded in the direction of my place and we both headed towards my place. I had the perfect soundtrack running in my ears. We walked next to each other, eating our kebabs, sneaking sideways looks at one another.
He’s like a really sexy Eddie Munster, well, Eddie Munster grown up ten years. Sexy Tim. Big dick Tim. Big everything, Tim. He’s a fit boy, as they say.
And confident, he knows what he wants to do and how he wants to do it. It is a bit of a wrestle for top spot, but I think that is part of his game, well, I like it, I hope it is.
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