Slip
My sister capped her summer with a week of desperate interaction with her boyfriend. They were loose in their commitments, although this is what allowed them to be tied so genuinely. She got back from her trip and wanted to spend the final week of summer sweat being romantically horizontal before she moved to university. This is a summer climax familiar to many.
They nuzzled noses each night, their brains firing, their legs firing. Their intensity ramped with each moment in contact. Their hands were familiar with one another; communicating in sign language without the awareness of my sister or her boyfriend. My sister was feeling tall. Her boyfriend had finally reached the singularity in his meditations, forever branded with the ability to exist.
Although in the power of one week’s time, she left him in our hometown. Their relationship is healthy in this way. She packed her life into the car and drove six hours to her university. My sister got a two-four from our parents as a housewarming gift.
She celebrated with her new roommates. They were merry and excited to spearhead the school-year with the digestion of eight beers each. They were having fun searching all the drawers and crawlspace corners to see if there were any good leftovers from the last tenants. The night became denser as the alcohol blunted their perceptions. Soon ingredients were haphazardly thrown together; a slop not even worthy of a drunk girl’s tongue.
· Spaghetti noodles (one rat’s weight)
· One whole tomato, sliced with a soiled knife
· Pinch of basil
· Beef broth stock
· Water
· Carrots, diced
· Celery, diced
· Onions, diced
A ghastly substance I assure you. Not soup, nor spaghetti and meat. It was a hybrid-dish that limps with a mutated gait, spilling watery tomato sauce on your shirt as it hobbles by. It pukes under boiled vegetables into your mouth. It dons an apron made of spaghetti so under-cooked it's crunchy. They ate gravely; slurping bland carbohydrates into their guts like a desperate man digs a hole. After my sister and her roommates were satisfied, they waddled and rolled into their bedrooms. So drunk they were. In fact, my sister had a dream that her boyfriend was beside her and went to kiss his neck only to realize it belonged to one of her female roommates, what a mix up! It was a really interesting experience for her, watching a lover morph into a friend in front of her eyes. It was not disgusting though, a funny experience if you ask her.
They were drunk still when they ate morning eggs, and drank morning water. They were fighting for the toilet the next morning, they all had diarrhea.
JACK LYTLE
Jack is a professional writer in training, but already is a seasoned unprofessional cook. He enjoys both activities equally, though one satisfies his soul, the other his stomach.