Dirty Mouth

If you spend too long in one place, you start to go crazy. Well, not mental hospital crazy, but you start to get all agitated and the little things piss you off, like when the garbage pick-up is or who the mayor is. You got to get out sometimes, you know, to clear your head and all that good shit. The best part about getting out of dodge is that you don’t have to go to one place in particular. You can go wherever the hell you want, as long as you got money for gas or a bus ticket to get you there. I think that’s one of those things about the world that doesn’t suck so bad: the ability to just go somewhere. I think more people need to try and take advantage of it.

I had my elbow out my window, a new cigarette between my teeth, a hand on the wheel and my foot on the gas. Hell, I had no idea where I was headed or why I was going there. I was just driving for the sake of it. I was about forty-five minutes out of Rogersdale limits and I couldn’t have been more content. I was forty-five minutes away from my job, my crumby apartment, and Emmie. This way, I wouldn’t want to run to her and fall into her for the millionth time. I got too wrapped up in her when I was with her and it was unhealthy. This way, I didn’t even have to think about it.

Sid was panting like crazy in the passenger seat. He had his front paws up on the rest inside the door and his head out the window. His tongue and ears were flapping in the wind and no doubt his slobber was flying all over my car. But I didn’t care. He was just a dog and he was having the time of his life. He rarely got to go on long car rides; we had nowhere to go. He jumped down from his window perch, turned around, put his paws on my armrest and tried to climb over into my lap. I raised my arm just a little so he could crawl under but we hit a little bump and he did a face dive into my junk.

“Jesus Christ, dog,” I gasped, trying my best to protect the only useful part of my body. “Simmer down.”

I pushed him back into the passenger’s seat with one hand and rolled my eyes. He was a furry loser, but damn it I loved him. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: he’s my best friend. I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for Sid.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with going for a long drive to nowhere. Some people might consider it a waste of money. But the way I see it, the only other things my hard-earned cash was going to go towards was booze and cigarettes, so this was a far more productive option. See, when you take a long drive to nowhere, you see things, all kinds of things. Some of those things are beautiful; some of those things are ugly as hell. But hey, that’s the best part about it, you know? Because that’s life: a combination of beautiful and ugly. So whether you find a field of sunflowers at sunset on the side of a gravel road or two people fighting over a Hershey’s chocolate bar outside a greasy gas station, you’re seeing life; you’re living life. I know, it’s kind of freaky, isn’t it? I mean, yeah, looking out at a pretty sea of yellow flowers leaning towards a dying sun can be really poetic and beautiful and relaxing and shit, but when you’re sitting in a car while some pimple-faced freak pumps your gas and you see two alcoholics duking it out over a bag of Doritos or something it’s kind of jarring. It’s like you just sit there and you can’t really look away, but the whole time you’re thinking, ‘Jesus, is this really it? Is this what I’m doing with my life for this moment? I’m really just going to sit here and watch two people beat each other up because I’m not even sure how to approach the situation?’

And anyway, I liked the feeling of having the windows down and the wind slapping me silly as I pressed on the gas. I got to think my thoughts and listen to my music with no interruptions. I got to pick what roads I took and what roads I didn’t, and it didn’t matter either way. I wasn’t headed anywhere special. I could go wherever I wanted, see what I wanted, do what I wanted, and be back home in my bed before midnight with new things to think about. I don’t like to brag or anything, but I was a pretty good guy to have a conversation with. I mean, I had awesome conversations with myself. I always agreed with myself and I could get pretty deep into some pretty touchy subjects. That was why I liked to be alone, for the most part. I just liked the fact that I didn’t have to hear anyone else’s bullshit opinions, or listen to them tell me why I’m wrong by backing up their argument with several “facts” that were actually just made-up bullshit. I just had my own opinions, and I could formulate them as I wished, and broaden my own mind by asking myself challenging questions on subjects. Like, sometimes, I got all Psychology Major on myself and it freaked me out but exhilarated me at the same time. It makes me feel kind of good knowing that people see me and the way I look and assume I’m some high school dropout that couldn’t read a book if he tried, but I’m actually pretty smart. Or at least I think so. And that’s all that matters, anyway.

I pulled off the paved road onto a narrow little gravel road. I drove a good couple miles down the road before pulling off onto the grass and parking my car. The sun was just setting to the left of this big tree that was all alone in a field of grass and it was kind of cool-looking. I got out of the car and beckoned Sid to exit, too. I figured I’d let him roam and stretch his legs a bit after being so excited and unable to lay down in the car for longer than two minutes.

“Okay, go piss you dork. I’ll get you some water.”

I reached into my backseat and grabbed an empty Cool-Whip container and a water bottle. When the container was filled I put it down on the dusty ground and whistled for Sid to come and drink. And boy, did he ever drink. It never failed to amaze me. I mean, he was such a small dog but the amount of water and food he could take in was astounding. He downed the whole container almost and then took off down the road to pee on some grass. Maybe that was why he drank so much; just so he could have more ammo to mark his territory with. What a selfish little bastard. He didn’t even know where we were but he was claiming it as his own anyway. I loved that dog.

I took a seat on the hood of my car and lit another cigarette while I watched the sun’s mighty fall. Have you ever just sat in silence and watched the sunset? I mean right before the sun disappears out of the sky; just that little section of time before only its shadow remains and the entire sky is divided between dark night and the light of day. It’s kind of entrancing. You can look at it without really feeling that burning sensation because it’s already dying out, and it just falls slowly but quickly at the same time. And before you know it that red ball you were so fascinated by is gone and you sort of blink, like, well what do I look at now? And then you see all the pink and purple and orange clouds left behind, and you sort of watch them for a little bit as they lose their colour. I don’t know; this probably all sounds really poetic and stupid. To sum it up: watch the sunset sometime, it’s cool as fuck. Also, don’t bring your fucking phone with you when you do it. Leave that shit in your car or house or wherever, just don’t bring it with you. Just sit there in silence and watch it. Breathe. You’ll thank me later.

After the sun disappeared I took a final drag off my cigarette and put it out before wrapping my arms around my knees and looking out at the clouds. I kind of wished I had a girl to put my arm around and kiss at that moment. It’d be super romantic, I think. I mean, isn’t a sunset kiss in all the sappy chick flicks? If not there’s at least a sunset scene in all of them. I’m not a connoisseur of chick flicks, so I wouldn’t know, but it seems pretty likely. Anyway, chick flicks aren’t my point here. The point is, it’d be really awesome to watch the sun go down and then look over at some girl I’m falling for and kiss her, y’know, really take her breath away. And then maybe I’d do something crazy and tell her I’m falling for her. I don’t know. Sunsets made me romantic as hell.

Sid was chasing a butterfly a few yards from the car, barking at it and jumping in the air to try and capture it. I smirked. Sid was a lover, not a fighter. He liked to play with other creatures like that. One time, there was a fly in my apartment, and I’d tried to get Sid to kill it. It was on the window and he was staring it down really hard, like a shootout was about to go down. And then, do you know what he did? He pressed his wet little nose to the window right next to it—not on it, but next to it—and then watched as it flew away. Then he sat down, scratched his ear, and started to chew on his bone. He had the opportunity to be the alpha male hunter he was inside and he just didn’t take it. He’d rather chance inhaling the bug over eating it. I guess I couldn’t blame him. Flies are dirty things.

Sid loved everyone and everything, for the most part. I was always in awe of his capability to be so gentle. It made me wonder if I could ever love someone like that. I don’t mean jumping up on their lap and licking their face or anything. I mean I wonder if I could see someone and someday soon I just willingly slip so easily into loving them and I accept it and that’s that. No questions asked. I am in love with that person, I trust them, I will do anything for them, and that’s all there is. Because, honestly, I’ve never really felt that way before. I don’t even feel that way about Emmie, not even close. I don’t feel that way about my parents or even my two friends. I mean I like them sometimes, and that’s cool, but that’s about it. I wouldn’t want to kiss any of them at sunset. I came close to that feeling once, though, I think. I mean, I was just a kid, so I probably didn’t, but still. I hadn’t forgotten her since then, and surely that had to mean something.

Her name was Sophie McDonald. I went to grade one with her, and preschool, and kindergarten, too. We were friends that whole time until my parents divorced and I had to leave New York behind. I remember, she always had a bow or something in her hair. She had this real cute strawberry blonde hair and her mom cut it into a bob all the time, so it only went to her chin. One time she let it grow to her shoulders, but it was only like that for a little while before she had it cut again. I’d liked it when it was down to her shoulders; I mean, I’d kind of wanted to put gum in it a couple times, but I’d still liked it. Anyway, she had strawberry blonde hair and the prettiest robin’s egg blue eyes I’d ever seen. They had little freckles in them, I remember. I used to call her a weirdo for her freckled eyes, and she’d call me one right back just for the simple fact that, well, I was a weirdo. Everyday after school we’d stay as late as we could and swing on the swings until our parents would come back and find us swinging together. We’d make a promise to do it again the next school day. One day I went to Sophie’s house to play. We played dolls—she used her Barbies and I’d brought my action figures with me. Our dolls were husband and wife and lived together in Barbie’s mansion with our kids: Kelly and Skeletor. My G.I. Joe drove a pink BMW to work at the police department. And you know, we were five, we didn’t give a shit. It was fun. And when it was over and time for me to go home for dinner, I’d kissed Sophie McDonald on the cheek and told her I had really liked playing dolls with her, and that I really liked her, too. Then I’d told her I was going to miss her. She’d said we’d see each other the next day, since we had kindergarten. I’d just said “I know” and walked out to my mom’s car. She’d stood out on her front step and we’d waved to each other until we couldn’t see each other anymore.

I never really thought about ol’ Sophie McDonald anymore. I wonder how she was doing. Was she still in New York? Did she become a teddy bear nurse like she said she wanted to be? I bet she did. Sophie was real smart like that.

I whistled for Sid to come back to the car. He hopped over, jumped inside, and lied down in the passenger seat right away. He’d gotten all of his energy out, at least. That was why he liked car rides so much: the sights and the adventuring. I wish I got as excited about everything as Sid did.

On the drive back to Rogersdale, I wondered about some things. Would I ever just drive one day and find myself back in New York? I mean, it’d be cool, and I could probably do it, but there wasn’t much point. I didn’t have anything there anymore. My mom wouldn’t care to see me on her front step much. I really believed that. And my sisters were doing their own thing. They didn’t have time for me to darken their lives for a couple days. Sophie McDonald was probably the mayor of New York by now. She wouldn’t even remember me, anyways. They were all important people now and I was just a fry cook at a shitty restaurant on the side of the road. They didn’t have time for me and it’d be selfish of me to force them to make time for me. So no, I couldn’t go back to New York. Maybe I’d like to, but I couldn’t do it. I just…couldn’t.

By the time I got home it was dark and starry in the sky. We got into the apartment and Sid got a drink and munched a few bits of kibble he’d left in his bowl before going straight to bed. Me, I made coffee. I still had stuff to think about. I’d sleep when I ran out of topics.