Jett’s Short Pulp Story – Excerpt from Jett

NOTE:  This short story is from the larger story of Jett.  This excerpt is  a short story written by the protagonist, Jett, for her Literature class.  She tells a more light hearted story of an incident which happened over the summer.  The incident itself was much more dangerous than Jett makes it out to be in her story.  Enjoy:

It started out a boring day of summer, but not for long. I was on my bike, riding my usual route from my summer karate class to my job when a group of boys confronted me. I say boys, but there were girls too. Girlfriends, sheep, or sycophants. It’s all the same. Me? I don’t have boyfriends. I ain’t nobody’s sheep and I do what I want. That’s how I live and it ain’t changing for no boy.
The boys were your typical popular kids who somehow parlayed their popularity into being bullies. Most of them were followers, looking for a brave leader to show them the path to glory on the gridiron, or diamond, or whatever other patch of grass they throw a ball around on in a vain attempt to prove their manhood. But these poor souls were misguided. They didn’t have a brave leader to show them the path to glory; they had Bob.
Bob wasn’t the strongest guy. He wasn’t the fastest guy. He surely wasn’t the smartest guy. He wasn’t the anythingest guy. He could throw a ball far, all kinds of balls, and apparently that earns a boy some status in this town. He could throw it far, but he wasn’t very good at getting it exactly where was supposed to go. But, the bar was low in this town and Bob’s ability to throw a ball far, combined with his dad’s bloated bank account and political ambitions, apparently buys a football team a quarterback in this town, or a baseball team a pitcher. I’m not sure what the going rate is for a quarterback, but there wasn’t much of a market by my estimate. Zero wins and Ten losses last year. Again, the bar is low in this town. Pep rallies were more like group therapy and cheerleaders weren’t cheering as much as they were pleading.
Anyway, I digress. These gridiron hapless heroes were blocking my path to get where I was going and they weren’t moving. “What’s up guys?” I asked as I came to a stop. There was no point in trying to run this blockade. I figured I could outsmart them instead.
“What’s up? We’re what’s up. We don’t like your attitude,” one of the boys said. It wasn’t Bob, but it was Joseph. He often spoke for Bob. I say that because Joseph isn’t smart enough to speak for himself. He couldn’t put two words together to form a coherent sentence if he was spotted the noun and given his choice of verbs. Joseph was the muscle, Bob was the brains. Did I mention the bar was low?
“I’m sorry guys. Did I do something that hurt your feelings?” I asked.
“No, you pissed us off though. And we’re gonna kick your ass now.” Joseph replied.
“Kick my ass? Didn’t you get your ass kicked enough on Friday nights last year?” I retorted. I knew it was a mistake, and I wanted to regret saying it, but it felt pretty good coming out. I smiled and said, “I’m just kidding. Sorta.” Oops I did it again.
“See, that’s the kind of stuff I’m talking about. Your attitude. We represent your school on Friday nights.”
“I didn’t vote for you. In fact, I demand a recount.” I retorted again.
“You have no respect for this team or us players,” Bob said, getting into my space.
“Neither do your opponents.” I said, without hesitating. This was too easy. Bob, though, was getting madder and clenched his fists in anger. Something was different about Bob. He was more intense than I remembered him from last semester. Nevertheless, even his girlfriend laughed at that one.
“And you. The karate kid,” Bob said, “Are we supposed to be afraid?”
“Of what?” I asked.
“That’s what I thought. Right now, you and I. You’re going to learn who the boss is here at this school.”
“I don’t want to fight you Bob. I was just riding to my job when you guys stopped me. You started it.”
“Yea. And we’re going to finish it.”
From my left one of the other kids, Rick, a grabbed me by the arm as Bob and Joseph started swinging at me. I managed to get out of Rick’s grasp and moved to my left, away from the other two boys and positioned Rick between us. I stepped forward when Rick lunged at me and then sidestepped, putting my arm up for protection. Rick missed me entirely and lost his balance, falling to the ground. Bob made his move before Rick could get up. I got into my defensive position and simply avoided Bob’s wild, erratic punches while moving away from the other boys, effectively isolating myself with Bob. It wasn’t hard. Bob was strong enough to do damage, and angry enough to lose control, but he was so angry that his punches were random with no focus. He simply flailed away at me with no coherent strategy. It wasn’t hard to maintain a position just to his left and simply block or stay out of his reach while he flailed away. It also made it easier to use Bob as a buffer to keep the other two boys from attacking me. I never threw punch. Didn’t need to. Eventually Bob ran out of breath and was bent over. His friends had given too up by then. We all stood there awkwardly for a moment and I said, “Are we done? I need to go to work.”
Before I could respond Joseph and Rick jumped me at the same time. I let my guard down, I got cocky, and now I was on the ground with two large, stupid oafs beating on me relentlessly. Bob caught his second wind and started kicking at me. That’s when something strange happened.
The girlfriend grabbed Bob and pulled him away. Then she pulled the other boys away with the help of her two friends. “You’re not supposed to fight girls!” she yelled at him, clearly angry. For that moment we were sisters united and there wasn’t anything the boys could do. They just stood there staring as I got up off the ground, with the help of the other girls. The girls then walked me to my job and told my boss what happened. She called my dad, and he came and picked me up.
I never talked to those girls about this when school started. I knew the score. We had our moment of triumph, but we weren’t going to be singing songs around a campfire or marching in any women’s rights marches together anytime soon. They made up with their boyfriends and life went on. They despised me, I tolerated them. Their boyfriends still wanted to beat me up but are a little more hesitant now. I learned two things that day:
Sometimes you can win a fight without throwing a single punch;
And I hate a bully.

Then End.
Jett Landry.

 

It Happens in Your Sleep

“It happens in your sleep, Steven” – What I was dismissively told when I first became curious about love and sex.
This will never work out. We’re not compatible.
We’re too different:
If I hold her she will sleep.
But if I don’t hold her, I will sleep.
She can’t go to sleep unless I am holding her.
I can’t sleep when I am touching another person.
She suggested I hold her until she falls asleep.
Then let her go, so I can sleep. Once she is asleep, she will not know I am not holding her she says.
She’s a very practical woman. A problem solver.
But she has nightmares. I hear her. Her breathing speeds up.
She startles. She tries to cry out. But she has no memory of these in the morning.
So I held her one night when she was having the nightmares and the nightmares stopped.
The nightmares she doesn’t remember.
If I don’t sleep, I’ll be okay. I’ll know that she didn’t have the nightmares. This will sustain me.
So I start holding her and I don’t let go.
Late at night, when I’m awake holding her, her hands grasp my hands and our fingers are interlocked.
Her legs are intertwined with mine. She holds my legs tight with hers.
We wake like this, but she has no recollection of how it happened. I dismissively told her that
It happened in our sleep, “who knows? it’s just one of those things,” I said .
“Hmmm. . .” she said, and then she gets up and takes a shower.
At night, when she subconsciously grasps my hand. When our fingers are interlocked
And our legs are wrapped around each other
It’s like her soul is breaking through her subconscious mind.. begging me. .saying
“Don’t let go baby. . .never let go.”
And my soul answers, saying
“Baby. . I won’t let go. I will never let go.”
Now, something strange has happened. When I hold her and don’t let go
I sleep. . .. . . .. . . . .
Sometimes it does happen in your sleep.

 

The Fuse

 

So there I was,at this joint on the south side of town.  It was a hot, sticky night and all I wanted was a break from the heat… and to be left alone.  The bartender just looked at me, so I said, “Give me a whiskey and coke, hold the coke, make it a double and keep em coming.”  I had a lot of thinking to do and this wasn’t the time to do it.  The bartender grunted, turned around, and poured some whiskey into a glass and set it in front of me.  There is an art to ordering a drink and if I don’t get anything else right in this life, at least I got that.

That’s when she walked in.  Dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin, with long legs and nails.  To be honest, she was beautiful.  I was hooked and there was no turning back.  But I didn’t let on.  I kept my hands and eyes on my drink.  I held my breath even though her sweet, sultry scent filled my nostrils and swirled around my brain.

The bar was empty but she took the seat right next to mine.  She fumbled around in her purse, clumsily pulled out a cigarette and put it between her lips.  She leaned over and touched my arm.  Electricity pulsed through my body and lit a fire in my gut.  I turned to find her staring into my eyes, “What’s a girl gotta do to get a light in this place,” she asked. Without taking my eyes off of her, I pulled out my lighter and flicked it alive. But I hesitated. . .  Because sometimes you’re lighting a cigarette, and sometimes you’re lighting a fuse.