orangetoughguy | log post II

Whoa whoa wait a second. So I'm the one who's got to put out? What the fuck am I on display or somethin'?

[Nothing serious, just dicking around. With salami.]

Nah, but your particular tastes, they're enough to get other people to try it.

[He'll take another bit and put it in his mouth. A few chews before saying]

You made me like cereal more than I did. Got me eating it out of your hand practically.

Really? You like my Fruit Brute, Capn Crunch, Rice Krispies, Cheerios, and Honeycombs?

[As a reward, have a slice of salami from Freddy's hand, Lawrence Dimick.]

I always liked Cheerios. I had never tried Fruit Brute.

[The kid is too fucking kind. Larry keeps his hands flat on the counter top as he leans forward to get it. Teeth first, then tongue swiping to make sure he's got it. More tongue after chewing.]

[Nicotine stained fingertips do a little wiggling at those lips, getting them slightly wet before he tastes them himself.]

Well I'm glad to be some kinda service to you.

[Why do they keep eating out again? Oh. That's right. Two grown men can't live on finger food alone. Still though, they should try and do this more often.]

More than that.

[Larry gives him a bump on the way back to the fridge for beer.]

Talk to that friend of yours?

[He's banking on the fact that the reestablished harmony is solid, rock steady even. They're on speaking terms. And it's one simple question. The kid can answer however he pleases. And hey, if he evades, well, Larry can't say he doesn't blame him. One of these days though, these questions are going to bite him in the ass again.]

[Oh here we go. Keep it cool, Newendyke. He's a jealous old bear and you know what he wants to hear but you know he'll take what you've got to say too. Will it wreck this salami peace?]

Yeah, I did. I told him all that wholesome organic shit and whatever's a noble cause but I ain't gonna stop eatin' tacos and cheap Chinese, so maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore.

[It's a joke that answers nothing beyond cementing the fact that he'll always have a preference for this bear's diet than that...what is he anyway, a lynx? Anyway, that Lynx's diet.]

[A beer for Freddy too. Larry pops off the top of his, no opener needed. Then on to Freddy's. He's listening, calm even. He doesn't trust much, but he trusts the kid. And if he's gonna make an ass of himself with this suspicion business and ruin their reconciliation that'll be his own damn fault. Waiting, breathing, listening like a good bear in a friendly environment.]

Oh yeah? What did he say to that?

[A smile is breaking way to easily over his face as he takes a drink. It's got to be bullshit, but fuck it's nice bullshit to hear.]

[Watching him twist those caps off raises his temperature just a bit. He gives a nod of thanks for his own bottle. Larry's playing along, Freddy can tell that much, and it makes him smile too.]

He called me a Republican.

[Good thing he swallowed before he heard the kid's reply or else he might have spat some of the brew out while laughing.]

A Republican? Dirty son of a bitch. Shouldn't be friends with that.

[Maybe that was slightly too sincere but look, Freddy he's laughing.]

Bet you gave him a piece of your mind then?

[All fabrication sure, see though, a man can't make a magic carpet out of normal material.]

You're kidding me right? What fear do I got from a hippie? I just gotta keep my ass out of Eugene, Oregon.

[You're supposed to ask him 'why', Lawrence Dimick.]

So why that? I mean, of all the things to say...and why Eugene, Oregon?

[Another sip. He's enchanted. What is that flappy jaw and flappy handed body gonna deliver now?]

There's no work there.

[Freddy takes a smug sip of his beer. Okay so the guy actually has a job and isn't a dirty hippie but that's just part of the whole joke ain't it? Larry knows he's got nothing to fear...right?]

[There's still the nagging suspicion but it's nothing that Freddy's done. It's that fucking shrink. Larry's not sure what it is that makes him feel so fucking suspicious but his hunches never cut him a break. Let's forget the hunch that this man standing with him shirtless in the kitchen of their apartment was innocent. It's all relative though. Cops can be innocent he's come to find out.]

No work.

[He repeats it, snickering.]

Well, thank goodness.

[That they can joke about it a little. Larry leans over and grabs a hold of Freddy's chin to lay one on him.]

[Flappy jaws are about to flap some more when the old man takes him by the face though not really by surprise. Freddy has to quickly find space for his smoke and beer, somewhere on the counter, so he can rest his hands on that thick clothed torso.]

Uh huh. [He sounds through their mouths. Crazy kids.]

[There's a whole lotta good flavors in that mouth. Beer, smokes, salami...chocolate somewheres. A whole damn meal. The bottom line of this issue with the therapist friend is that Larry is certain that he knows a good thing when he sees one.]

You were gonna say somethin'?

[That's what he says when he feels like he can pull back. Not out of the reach of those hands. Give the man some space, huh? He'll use that cigarette a moment.]

[A damn fine mix of flavors, this. Warm and in those paws, green eyes could close up and ignore everything outside of this apartment--say what? Green eyes open up again.]

Uh.

[What was he gonna say again?]

Right uh... [Freddy shrugs because yeah, that kiss totally made him forget. Oops.]

[He puts the Marlboro between Freddy's lips to let him have another smoke while Larry gets another sip.]

Hippies sure don't like Republicans.

[Larry shrugs then. It'll come back to him right? Besides, not like they got anywhere to be today.]

He purses his lips around that smoke to take a shallow pull which he exhales in soft rings.]

I wouldn't know, I'm way more fun then either. [Right?]

[Fucking smoke rings are a lost art. Does Freddy know that. Larry watches the way his mouth moves and how they curl up into the air getting wider and more translucent.]

Oh, I know. I had my experience with hippies and a few Republican types.

[Fingers trace down his torso.]

Way more fun. [As he says it.]

How much experience do you have with a cereal-eating superhero-loving type?

[He presumes none but the kid won't make that many assumptions about Lawrence Dimick. Who knows, he might even surprise him. Meanwhile he's got his own hand on Larry's side now, at some point the towel got discarded...somewhere. Yep.]

Only as much as what you'll lemme.

[Oops. Towels these days. Larry's hand keep on a-movin'. Up and up then it's taking a trip down.]

So far I'd say they're pretty fucking good experiences.

So it's up to me? I mean if I wanted to have a party you wouldn't mind?

[It's just a question, the kind the mind conjures when there's a paw heading southward. Freddy adds a little difficulty by hoisting himself up on the counter, because he can. Mindful of the beers and smokes of course. And the salami.]

Well. I can make you do shit. But I'm not that kind of a man.

[That paw is southbound and still going down even if he's on the counter top.]

Do you wanna party? It's not your birthday. What kind of a party do you want?

Do shit like what?

[He's challenging Larry's sense of order on that one only because he knows he can. That hand where it is sure is a battle for Freddy Newendyke too, some form of chicken, whose cock is gonna crow first?]

I dunno we could meet up with some guys at a bar, see where it goes. Like to a private room or somethin'.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject