Tag: 2021

a christmas miracle

An erotic mirco-story for mature readers.

i walk around the wrapping paper trip mines that dot the path from the living room to the bathroom when i see the lights on the street from the basement window, pull up, then shut off. i knew who it was. my phone goes off in my pocket. just a sec, gimme a minute, will you? i offload the most eager of waste while my mind rattles-off a mile-a-minute, my erection throbbing against the inside of the toilet seat. i use a wet wipe then give my girlfriend a kiss. she sits on the couch in a half-baked eulogy to the evening, her phone in her hand while the last few tracks of the christmas cd play from the stereo. i’m going outside for a smoke, do you want to come? “no, i’m ok here.” that’s great, you stay here. you look very comfortable. i don’t. “you don’t. everything ok?” everything’s fine, i just need to go outside to smoke up, calm down. “what do you have to be uneasy about? it’s christmas!” she takes my hand from just inside the radius that allows her to reach from her seat without moving, and pulls me toward her. she kisses me. it’s sloppy, and i miss her lips and peck under her nose in the fervour. “are you sure everything’s ok? you just seem off.” i’m fine. my phone goes off again. “someone is really trying to get a hold of you.” i know, it’s probably Dad, you know i tried him earlier and he didn’t pick up. “well hurry back to me.” i will. she has said her peace, but she still knows that something is up. she isn’t stupid, and i’m easy to read. i kiss her once more for extra reassurance before robing myself up for the storm outside and venturing forth, around the side of the house from the basement suite entrance to the street out-front, where i can see the darkened silhouette of a figure in the car parked out-front. i can recognize that hair anywhere. and she put it up for me, with a little poinsettia scrunchy that enunciates her flawless smile and red lipstick. i kick the snow off my boots before getting in to the passenger side of the car. hi. “hi.” she starts the ignition and pulls away, waiting for the last minute to turn on the headlights.

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Jay’s Take: The Godfather Part III (Coda, whatever)

A revisionist & spoiler-heavy movie review and personal analysis.

A Roman, divorced from his wife, was blamed by friends for the separation. “Was she not beautiful?” they chorused. “Was she not chaste?” The Roman, holding out his shoe for them to see, asked if it were not good-looking and well made. “Yet,” he added, “none of you can tell where it pinches me.”

– Adapted from Plutarch by Reader’s Digest

When I was in Grade 9, a few friends and I got together one afternoon and shot a movie on my Dad’s ancient Hi-8 Panasonic camcorder. Grade 9, how old would we all have been… 15? In this riveting independent feature (that took hours to film and only yielded 10-minutes of useable footage), there is a gang war between humans and bottles. Anthropomorphic, Ebonic-spouting plastic Pepsi bottles with angry faces scribbled on them in black Sharpie. There were three scenes: the prologue, with the bottles encroaching on the humans’ turf; a “driving” scene where the humans go to the bottles’ hideout (where all us underage-teenagers pretended to drive around in my friend’s mother’s sedan, which was parked in the garage); and a final confrontation where the humans kicked the shit out of the bottles. We win, The End. It sounds ridiculous just writing it here, and it WAS ridiculous, and a good memory. But – being the fledging cineaste I was – it wasn’t good enough. It could have been better. So I tried to “improve” it by adding 90-minutes of stock footage stolen from both poorly-converted VHS tapes of Hollywood movies and the public domain database that came off the editing software CD I was using.

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Posted on by wd 0