[new short story]
Hootie and the Blowfish were all the rage that year. The band had started in South Carolina and captivated Greek Row across SEC country. Dean Ehronson had never heard a voice quite like Darius Rucker's. Cracked Rear View played from the stereo in his fraternity room.
He sat on the futon in the communal living room area of the suite he shared with Doyle, who was on the University of South Florida swim team and gone much of the time, smoking a hand-rolled joint while he used the remote control to mindlessly flip between Sportscenter and The Real World on MTV. On the wall above the TV hung a mounted buck head, an 8-pointer who wore a puka shell necklace and Aviator sunglasses. On a side wall hung a Tampa Bay Buccaneers poster, the background orange creamsicle, with the 1994 schedule on it, and on another hung a Tom Petty poster. Also in orange creamsicle were a Starter jacket that hung from a door rack on Doyle's bedroom door and a big Buccaneers magnet on their mini fridge.
Dean had sparked the joint with a Bart Simpson lighter as soon as he had set his keys and backpack down, took of his white, sweat-stained UGA bar hat, and ran his hand through his bangs, pushing them off his forehead into a combover. He had just returned from class with disappointing news about his midterm results in his Shakespeare course, for which he'd written a 6-page paper. In the trophy and records room, the fraternity kept files on old midterm and final exam tests, even sample essays for every course imaginable at USF. Dean had used one of these old essays to model his on yet still he had received a C grade. The professor, Professor O'Donnell, a white-haired fellow who wore Sperry boat shoes, nautical flag belts, and pastel polo shirts tucked into khakis, had written "trite and derivative" at the top of Dean's essay in red ink. Dean hadn't bothered to look up either word, yet, but he imagined they had something to do with the way he had generated his essay.
He tapped the burning end of the joint until the ash dropped into the ash tray on the coffee table. The coffee table bore the typical signs of a college living area. Also sitting out were two old Burger King soft drink cups with plastic lids and straws; Sports Illustrated magazines with the latest on top, the cover depicting Jerry Rice in an all-white Niners uniform, wearing a red number 80 in black trim, red gloves, and gold helmet, the subtitle proclaimed Rice "the soul of football's best team"; rolling papers and a grinder of weed sitting inside a yellow frisbee; a hunting and fishing magazine; a tin can of Grizzly Wintergreen; three empty Budweisers, the cans regal in appearance. Hootie went into the positively upbeat guitar intro to "Only Wanna Be With You" and complained "I'm such a baby 'cause the Dolphins make me cry."
[to be continued]
No comments:
Post a Comment