Disquiet Teen

Thomas was a sluggish, hulking twenty-eight year old man with slightly hunched shoulders and a slow air about him. He had always housed a disquiet teen within.  The teen was pernicious.  And though Tom should have known better, the young teen's compulsive ideas and acerbic sense of humor put him in crap situations repeatedly.

It was the teen's fault that Tom lost his girlfriend in a dart game.  Patsy had sat at the bar, drank her beer, and pulled at the long strands of her brown hair that she wore swept back from her face.  Her red nose should have let Thomas know she was cold, but he kept playing darts.  Perhaps he didn’t even notice her nose; he was encapsulated by her heavy handed application of ocean blue eye shadow and bubblegum pink lip gloss.

There were a handful of people playing darts, some Thomas knew, others were just lingering in the bar and looking for a game.  Patsy tried to act interested.  When it was his turn, she would turn to watch him throw.  When he was successful, she clapped.  When he missed, she was quiet.  She would arch her back in a stretch, pushing out her greatest feature, her deep chest.  While some thought this was flirtatious, the fact was that her back was sore.

When Thomas wasn’t throwing, she turned back to prop herself on the bar and talk to the other girls from the club across the street.  This was where the seams of their relationship dissolved, and Thomas would tell you it was the fault of the teen.

In the middle of the game, while another player threw darts, she sat on her stool, temporarily engrossed in conversation.  She may or may not have been aware of it, but her low rise jeans on her narrow hips gave an inch of butt crack – a penny slot.  Thomas took position behind her and pretended to pour his beer down the back of her jeans.  The neck of his bottle came dangerously close to her exposed skin.

The teen goaded him on while Tom waved at his crowd, pantomimed pouring, laughed and rolled his eyes, anything to elicit laughs or encouragement from the circle of people around him.  But he got none.  This didn’t dissuade him.  He continued to pretend to fill her butt crack with beer while dramatically holding his other hand up to his ear as if trying to hear the response.

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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)