Some women are men
Some men are women
Some dogs are cats
Some cats bark.
Get over it.
And I’m back..
Hey I’ve been messing around with different mediums lately and I finally settled on writing a webseries. Im really excited about this one. So excited that i thought I’d share a snippet with you guys. Tell me what tou think.
P.S. Not the best layout for it, I know. But it’s the best i could do on my phone.
[City, ST ZIP Code]
INT. 4TH FLOOR LOBBY
THE ELEVATOR dings its arrival on the fourth floor. Outside its door wait a young lady nervously, fidgeting with her neck tie. She is dressed in a button down and a tie with a creased pair of jeans.
Come on, Chris, you can do this.
The elevator doors slide open and there’s a young man already standing inside, she recognizes him from the fifth floor above.
You look like shit.
Christa steps onto the elevator slowly and goes to press the first floor button but notices it has already been pressed.
Where ya headed?
Christa lowers her eyes to the floor and away from Johnny.
I get it. Don’t tell me. Not like your brother needs to know anything.
It’s not that. It’s just…personal.
Personal huh? Is it about Miranda?
Why would you even bring her up?
You guys’ve been broken up how long? Four days?
Five. What’s your point?
Nothing. Just, looks like date clothes to me.
Well it’s not.
Then what is it?
Christa lets out a loud frustrated sigh.
Of all the elevators in all the world…
Hey! You’re the one that insisted that we move into the same building. Some bullshit about keeping the family together. Like that stuff actually matters to you.
Christa is just about to open her mouth to protest but the elevator dings and the doors slide open. Another man steps inside, waving to them and presses the second floor button. They both give fake smiles. Christa and Johnny let the silence grow between them for a couple of seconds.
It does matter. And it should matter to you.
It’s all bullshit if you ask me. If families were meant to stay together they wouldn’t have invented colleges and other states.
Christa rolls her eyes. The man in front of them shifts in uncomfortable silence, clearing his throat. Both Christa and Johnny glare at the back of his head.
Besides, what has family ever done for you?
The elevator dings and the man steps off onto the second floor. The door close behind him and Christa turns to look at Johnny.
Are you saying I’ve never done anything for you?
No, I’m saying that I see all these fabricated pictures of Moms kissing bruised knees and Dads playing catch in the front yard. Where was that for us, huh?
It was me! I kissed bruised knees and played catch. I tucked you in and read you those awful bedtime stories over and over. I did that. Me! Family!
Johnny falls silent. The elevator dings and opens on the first floor. Christa lets out a sigh of frustration and turns to Johnny.
Family is not pictures. Family is what you make it. We may not have had the perfect childhood but I don’t regret a second of it.
Christa smiles and Johnny reflects it.
Neither do I.
The elevator door dings and begins to close and Johnny reaches forward to stop it, motioning for Christa to go out. She walks out ahead of him and into the lobby of the apartment building. They walk in silence to the door, waving at the door man as they exit.
Looking back at each other, they smile.
Well good luck with whatever you’re doing.
And to you, brat.
Johnny chuckles and they walk in different directions. Christa walks a few blocks, looking back until Johnny was out of sight. The sidewalk is moderately crowded. She smiles to herself and stops in a store front adjusting her tie once more. There is an older woman sitting there, enjoying a cup of coffee, looking at her wrist watch. Christa sighs and goes inside. She hesitantly approaches the woman, taking note of her facial features and mannerisms. Christa stops short of the table and smiles.
The woman looks up at her.
Can I help you?
Christa slowly nods.
I think so…Mom.
You’ll be half when you meet them, whole when you’re together, a quarter when you argue, a fifth when you drink, and in fragments when they leave.
Love is infectious, intangible, inconsiderate, and invasive. But incomplete without you.
I’ve taken up doodling again recently. I don’t know why but its soothing to me. Lines on the pages are much like words, telling a story that’s incomplete without the next. I will be documenting my doodles on youtube in hopes that I may look back on them and exclaim at how much they suck.
Join me if you wish. It’s not a thing.