Blank Sheet

Sitting on the couch, I looked at the clock. 5:30 p.m. What to do. . . What to do. . .

I have several choices here.

1. I either go out with the drummer guy from whatever metal band that he’s in and see where that goes.

2. I skip out and stay home where he just might show up and knock on my door till I give in and finally go out with him.

OR. . .

3. Skip town on a plane and go somewhere else where he can’t find me.

Choices, choices. “Fuck!” I cried as I got up and started to pace around. This was getting more and more difficult because I was just that way. I wasn’t that pretty, but I wasn’t ugly. I wasn’t that thin, but I wasn’t fat. I wasn’t the extraordinary, but I wasn’t plain. I was just. . . Me. “What the hell’s so special about me that I attract someone like him!?” Of course I don’t receive an answer, I’m by myself. . . Kind of.

‘Maybe he just likes you,’ a male voice said with a chuckle in my head. Oh boy here we go.

“You! Where were you yesterday!?” I turned and yelled at an empty seat on the sofa. Let me explain a bit here so that I’m not written off as psycho lady. The voice that just popped into my head, that would be Mot. Me and him have long talks a lot. Since I’m home by myself I can actually voice what I want to say. Ok so Mot is me, but he’s like another part of me with this whole different personality and life that I don’t have myself. So when I’m trying to think, he some how comes up with what I need. Nothing like a multiple personality disorder, more like an imaginary friend if you will.

‘ I was waiting to see what Stretch would do,’ he chuckled. I could just picture him there on the sofa. Reclining back with his long arms across the back of the couch with his shaggy black hair on his head, sitting like a mop. His eyes were hidden, but that damn smile sure wasn’t. His bare arms literally COVERED in tattoos were muscular and held little to no fat, were envied by many in the books. Mot was a rock god, revered and awed by all. The bass player for his band Wicked End, he’d been through hell and back so when I needed someone to listen to me whine and bitch and cry sometimes, he was always there.

Mot was just about my best friend, I mean he was the first character I’d ever really written that I liked. He was his own person no matter what and took no bullshit. It still amazed me that he and Connie even met. I mean she was just a regular waitress that had a blue streak or two in her hair and a few earrings, nothing special. She saved up a ton of money to go to Hawaii and they met. They took on a long lost tribe that tried to sacrifice them to Pele the volcano goddess and lived to tell about it. They were inseparable. Connie with her level headedness and Mot with his unpredictability. It was amazing she didn’t just up and leave him.

‘That’s because friends don’t do that to each other,’ a female voice chimed in. I look up and there she is sitting next to Mot all cuddled up. The span and nearly 30 years between their ages and they still were best friends. I guess I put a lot of myself into Connie. We were alike in so many ways. ‘You know what that means,’ she grinned at me.

“No! Don’t you say it!” I yelled at the two grinning people.

‘Jimmy is your Mot!’ He cackled.

“God damn it!” I screamed. Of course, this would happen. It always does. Something profound that I just couldn’t get they come up with. Though it is kind of their job since they have to fight angry Irish mobsters, Hawaiian natives and now a gang of thieves. . . I’m so kind to them. “Fine! I’ll go! I will enjoy it! I will be happy!”

‘Keep yelling and it might come true!’ Mot cackled as he and Connie faded from my mind and my concentration went on to the night I had ahead of me. Marching into the room with my mind set on doing what I thought was absolutely nuts, I managed to look half decent. Forgoing make up and just washing my face, I simply changed into my tank top and jeans before looking in the mirror trying to decide if I wanted to really do anything with my hair.

“Nah,” I said making a face in the mirror. Taking it out of the pony tail I had it in, I shook it out. I at least kind of looked like my 25 years of age. Usually I was lucky if I looked 21. “Ok, now that I’m about to dive into a land of unknown and insanity, I might was well hurry it up.” Grabbing my wallet from my other pair of jeans, I slipped on my shoes and was out the door with a small black hoodie just in case it got chilly, you never know.

Stepping out into a slight breeze, I zipped up my hoodie and headed back to the restaurant where I was suppose to meet Jimmy. Chewing on my tongue thoughtfully, I went over stuff to talk about in my head. His band, my work, likes, dislikes. It was all blown out of the water though when I got there and he wasn’t in sight. Checking my phone it was only 6:01. ‘He better not have stood me up,’ I thought as I stood by the fence, keeping an eye out. Five minutes went by and no sign of Jimmy. “Fuck it,” I grumbled, refusing to be put on like some dumb groupie. I didn’t have time for this! I was on a schedule!

“Hey,” a voice said as Christmas hair appeared next to me. Jumping at the sudden magical appearance, I growled at him.

“What is it with you people and sneaking up on me?” I huffed. Hell I was taller than her was by a few inches.

“It’s what we do, but that’s not why I’m here?” He said not even looking at me, looking at everyone else around us.

“Then why are you here?” I groaned, not enjoying this game one bit.

“I’m a distraction,” he grinned as I looked at him confused.

“Hey there sugar pie!” Jimmy cackled grabbing my sides from behind. Shrieking, I turned and whapped him hard on the arm.

“Stop doing that!” I seethed as he merely laughed and jumped over the fence.

“Thanks Johnny, I’ll catch you later,” he said waving to Christmas hair.

“No problem, you two kids stay out of trouble and keep it wrapped up,” he smirked walking away.

“I have no clue what he was talking about and I’m too scared to ask,” I said looking at Johnny, finally a name, as he left.

“It’s ok, it’s better to just ignore the leprechaun,” Jimmy said, he actually sounded coherent. Frightening. “So, how about a walk around the beach? I hear it’s nice this time of year,” he grinned suddenly linking arms with him. Blinking I was just pulled along a bit confused. “So Al, what brings you to our fine city of Huntington Beach?” He asked. Wait, how did he know that I didn’t live here?

“Just fine,” I said a little nervous as I watched most of the people started to go into the stores and restaurants, leaving the beach sparse and empty. Oh snap. Where the hell’s my mace!? Oh yeah back at home in Missouri cause they won’t let you take it on a plane!
“Anything new and exciting besides moi come to you yet?” He chuckled as he added a bounce to his step. Something was defiantly going on here and I don’t know whether or not I should be frightened or excited. I am totally blaming this on Mot and Connie.

Stupid imaginary friends.