A Starfire Codes Entry Episode
Chris Youngblood January 26, 2024
The following is a work of fiction. This is my entry into the Starfire Codes writing contest where the author can use outlandish prompts that Demi has uttered in her life. It is such an awesome idea and other authors have entered their submissions. I have not read all of them but intend to. The contest information and links to other submissions via the comments section can be found here. So far all are uniquely awesome in their own way. Here are the rules in the contest:
*Use any or many of these collected sentences in a story or a poem that you write.
*No editing the prompts. They must remain intact.
I will bold the phrases in the story when used.
This story can be graphic in nature and language. Do with that what you will. One more thing, if you happen to go by the name Rob, no offense. It’s a story.
The scene is set at dinner, hosted by Tom’s Father and Mother in Law. The story is told from the first person narrative of the anti hero, Tom.
Kate – Tom’s wife
Bert – Tom’s Father in Law
Rebecca (goes by Becca) – Tom’s Mother in Law
Rachel – Tom’s Sister in Law
Steve – Rachel’s husband
It’s the Christmas season.
“The cold rain outside sure is pelting,” Steve said as they walked through the door.
Tell me about it. Don’t bother drying your wife off. She’ll remain wet the entire time.
Rachel and Steve, my sister in law and her husband, are an odd couple. They got married right out of college, no waiting or seeing what life could bring. Just tag onto another your selfhood, slide that diamond mined through slavery and off to the races to procreate, work for a paycheck, retire to golf and die.
Steve works as a computer tech nerd, don’t know what he does. Whenever I ask, genuinely wanting to know, he acts as if I wouldn’t understand.
Rachel’s whole thing with that is, “Oh, he’s just humble. He doesn’t like talking about himself.”
Or he could just be an asshole who doesn’t like people. Ah, the dress up.
They have three children, ages 10, 8 and 6. Good kids, respectful. Kate and I decided not to have children and we are made to be felt guilty. The passive aggressive comments on how easy our lives are, and how hard theirs are, the ones they chose, never seem to subside.
I remember one time we were going on a family trip, all of us. Kate said something about how she was packing and was having trouble just knowing what to bring. She’s having this conversation with her sister, mind you.
Rachel goes off, “I have to pack for myself and three kids, get over it!”
Okay. Guess your life and day to day is meaningless if you aren’t pushing out. Duly noted. Although, we push in and push out just fine, thanks Rach. Sorry if you don’t enjoy it, or jealous of your sister.
Rachel is secretly bisexual. The only people in the room who know so are Kate, Steve and myself. No one really knows why she became bisexual. It happened a few years after they were married. I have my theories. First, see above, regarding getting married out of college. Second, I think it’s cause Steve has legit bitch tits. She got used to them. It’s weird too because he’s actually skinny. Steve’s pretty calm about the whole situation, the bitch tits and the bisexuality. His computer nerd calm demeanor leads me to think, “Gynoconamaste….. the bitch tits in Bill Gates recognize the bitch tits in the meme.”
I feel sorry for him for one reason. Rachel’s side ho is a complete Butch Bitch. Damn, if my wife is going to cheat on me with another woman, she better be hot.
Rebecca, my mother in law, who goes by Becca, was in the kitchen with wine. We all were drinking. I tend to drink more at these gatherings because if I’m going to be put through nausea I have to get a buzz on.
“Burt and I are just one of the best couples in the couples league.” She loves telling us about their golf game. We will hear very long stories about them. I always look around to see who will get worn down by them first. I have a bet with myself each time, which helps get through it.
Bert and Kate are retired teachers. They of course retired early, thanks to us taxpayers. Most of their friends still work and I have been around these stories while their friends look on. The resentment is palpable.
“Why is that a candy cane? That’s an Ace of Wands,” said Asher, Rachel and Steve’s six year old son. He took a candy cane and twirled it around as he said it. Asher, yes that’s a name these days, is a big Harry Potter fan. I’m thinking he will be waving wands merrily in his adult years too.
“Go downstairs honey,” said Rachel. Yes, mommy’s drinking and I do like when she does. Those eyes tend to glance down at my crotch every once in awhile. The redder the teeth the more often they do.
We went into the living room to talk after the 18 hole course. The living room is full of your typical frames, decorations with how you should be a better person. Life does not have to be perfect, blah blah blah. One that I always get a kick out of is, “Because Nice Matters.” Maybe because Bert and Becca are the most self absorbed people I’ve ever known. I have no illusions to the fact that I’ll never hear from them again if Kate and I ever break or she, God forbid, passes. The conversations I have with them one on one seem like theatrical plays. A lot of “Uh uh, yeah, ok,” whenever I actually have the audacity to speak on my life. Then a quick back to them as if they are the street reporter and in studio reader all in one. I’m like, wait what just happened here?
The conversation went to their couples friend, the husband sadly on his last leg of cancer.
Kate said, “Are you going to travel up to Lake Geneva to see them?”
“They don’t want to see us.” Bert just said, “Yeah.” He cosigns a lot.
You really mean your golf game and personal time will be ruined. Because Nice Matters!!
I said, “Well it’s good you know what the guy dying from cancer wants. That’s important.”
Silence.
I tried to break it by saying, “There are some nice golf courses up there. You could probably get a good round in.”
Bert said, “Yeah, that’s true, something to think about,” eyeing Becca.
So, you did know what the guy dying from cancer wanted? I’m confused.
The man who was dying was a Vietnam vet and somehow the conversation came back to Becca and Bert attending one protest in college. I’ve heard this story more times than I can count. It sounds like it was a pretty safe protest, like one that nobody gave a shit about. You almost think they imagined the actual protest they attended being carried out on the tube instead. Doesn’t sound like it was that big of a deal when you take the wine induced emotion out of it. Motherfuckers act like it was Kent State and shit.
Even though I know they won’t make it up to see their friend I’m already anticipating how touching the funeral will be. The story will be electrifying and Becca will be the main star. We will be made to feel sorry for her and a possible forced cry will commence.
Have you ever witnessed an adult forced cry? The adult forced cry to gain sympathy is one of the most simultaneously surreal and hilarious situations one can witness in person. Especially when one knows the cryer personally. I have witnessed two in my life and have permanent bite marks in the lower lip as proof.
The Dunning Kruger effect on these two when it comes to their belief in how good they are. It’s truly like, hats off. “Life is Good” hats that is.
Kate and I were discussing some new shows we were watching on Netflix. We asked Rachel and Steve what they are watching. They were silent and we wanted to include them.
Steve was about to chime in when Rachel cut him off with a stare and said, “Oh, we don’t watch anything, there’s no time. We’re soooooo busy.”
If I roll my eyes any harder, I’ll be looking at myself right in the pineal gland.
“Really, you don’t watch anything?” Kate calling her bluff.
“No,” Rachel said.
I guess we can’t prove that she’s full of shit, but she’s full of shit.
“So what do you do then?” said Kate.
“We…”
“I’ve got to toss the salad,” said Becca. “Bert come with me.” They headed into the kitchen.
This tossing of the salad announcement always comes. I’m not sure the underlying meaning if any, not sure if Becca gets it. I never want to know actually. It’s so amusing to me. It’s her way of getting out of a conversation, being a martyr and dropping James Bond style sexual innuendos all in one. It’s become less hilariously charming as she’s gotten wrinklier though.
“What was that?” Rachel said. “She totally just cut me off and they left the conversation.” Join the club, I thought.
“Don’t worry. They’re just trying to see how long it takes you to vomit out your insides like a sea cucumber and slink away into the darkness to regenerate. Wait……what?!
This came from Kate. I rubber her back and laughed, we all did. Kate could be clever when she wanted to be.
Kate and I met in college, summer of 97. Two things happened that summer. My first love, Hip Hop, came back online for me. I had given up on it and where it was going. As Common said at the time, describing Hip Hop like a woman, “eyes all Puff.” Then I heard Company Flow, “Funcrusher Plus” and Atmosphere, “Overcast” both dropped that summer. My love was rejuvenated. I met Kate and my heart for another came back online too. I thought it was done. She was just as aggressive, DIY and independent as those albums.
She had an editorial at the school paper and I was a Hip Hop DJ at the college radio station. We were a good match.
We broke up and met again later in our late 20s. We got married in our early 30s. Here we are.
A few years ago she had an affair with a “friend” of mine. Later on I had an affair with a young woman named Lauren at the office but that’s another story. I wouldn’t call him a real friend, he came into my life through her. But we became friends, worked out, hiked together. I snooped them out though. His name was Rob.
Who the fuck calls themselves Rob who is Robert? Just call yourself Bob or Robert and be done with it. “Hi I’m ROOOOOOOOB.” Toolbox.
Geez you Robs, learn something from Robert Zimmerman other than how not to walk away gracefully.
His name might as well have been Robert Paulson though because when we fought in a parking lot I was wearing a Fight Club shirt, with the soap bar. The words on it were “I am Jack’s complete lack of surprise.” And it was a surprise cause it wasn’t planned. I just saw him in the lot and went up to him and punched him in the face.
We fought for a long time and the soap from the shirt washed us clean. I’ll never forget a woman came up to us while we were sitting there on the sidewalk and said, “You two had a good workout, you could use some water.” We declined probably because we weren’t sure what was in it and weren’t sure if we would go for Round 2. We didn’t. I wanted to hug that lady though because she didn’t call the cops. She let two men (well one man and one slippery fuck) fight it out. Respect.
I still have that shirt and I’ve never washed the one blood stain off from it. I never will.
Rob is now in a mental institution last I heard. He couldn’t bear being left alone after Kate called it off. I don’t feel sorry for him. He reaped it. Maybe one day I’ll come visit, slip him a razor or gun so he can off himself as he should with his pathetic life.
“Dinner is served!” said Bert.
We had dinner. Conversation was light except for two subjects.
“Bert and I are loving Breaking Bad,” said Becca. “It’s so fun.”
“Yes, it’s one of my favorites,” I said. Always trying to find some common ground. I do try.
“Oh, I love that,” said Rachel.
“Wait, I thought you don’t watch tv.” I said. Kate pinched my knee so hard. Rachel will not talk to me for a month now. She does that.
I hold my tongue so much. There’s only so much one can take.
The second conversation had to do with Kate’s friend, Maria. Really it was regarding her husband, Mike.
Becca asked, “What does Mike do?” This was always the first or second question regarding any man Becca was learning about. Funny how she never asked if said man was nice. Figured that would matter.
“He’s an accountant.”
“Oh.”
Mike was a very selfish man, to himself, kept a distance from people. He barely spoke to his family But I sensed a high intelligence in him. He had drive though that seemed to only go into his accountant work and nothing else. I wanted to know him better, what makes him tick. I had plans to sift this out and see if he would want to work with me on my plans.
“Waste of talent,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Bert said.
“I mean that a man like that, with his intellect and self absorption should have done something more with his life. Been a dictator or a CEO. Imagine the lack of care he has for his own family, can you imagine what will and determination coupled with pure selfishness could accomplish?”
They all stared at me like I was crazy. It never ceases to amaze me that when put up to a mirror, people’s own values reflect back the horror in a Medusa face that turns them to stone. It’s why they look away.
The two people who talked about their Vietnam protest, against the man, now watch MSNBC, the Today Show spinning out products promoted by CEOs that actually DID do something with that talent. And they look at me for holding up the mirror, albeit dancing around it, with contempt.
We left after post dinner wine. On the way home “Fake Plastic Trees,” from Radiohead was playing. The rain was pelting. I stared out the window while Kate drove.
“Do you remember the affair with Rob? It was seven years ago.”
“Was that seven years? It started with Poseidon and my makeup bag.”
“Very funny. Lauren and I were six years ago. That started with her makeup bag.”
She smiled. I wonder if Kate will find it amusing in the future if Rachel and I have an affair. Rachel’s looks at me do not go unnoticed. I imagine when her kids are grown up and out of the house with Steve away on business, things could get spicy. Hopefully she has a hotter (and by then younger) girlfriend.
Kate and Rachel kind of go back and forth for me on who’s hotter. It’s like hot sister musical chairs.
I was thinking about what the tall stranger said to me the other day in the grocery store. “We have been watching you and your progress.” What did he mean by that? The eeriness of his presence was something I couldn’t put my finger on. He knew what I was thinking when he said, “Look at these people. Oblivious to their own self worth aren’t they? What good are they? If their life was on the verge of being snuffed out, would they even lift a finger?”
“No,” I said, in a daze. “They probably wouldn’t.”
He then walked away and I never saw him again. I looked all over the aisles. He had vanished.
I came back to the present, looking at the homes passing by. Seeing the Televisions on. Stars entombed in their cube watching the tube. How many of them? Row after row.
Then I started humming in my head, “And you could have it all, my empire of dirt. I will let you down, I will make you ..”
“You know you’re going to do it!”
“What?!”
“Make up with Rachel. She won’t talk to you after tonight.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll text her tomorrow.” Work the retirement investment.
What was I humming again? Oh yeah. And look how creepy these lyrics are in context. Especially when you’re being taunt- serenaded by a hyperdimensional.
I’m going to have to run into Mike this week somehow. I wonder if the tall man has come to see him too.
We got home and Kate said I’m going to bed. She seemed slightly pissed at me and didn’t ask if I was coming up, which means no sex.
I made the coffee for the next morning as I always do then stood there in the foyer before turning out the lights. Then the words at the end of The Cure “Open,” came to me:
I can’t take it anymore, this It I’ve become,
This is it like I get.
When my life’s going numb
I just keep moving my mouth,
I just keep moving my feet,
I say I’m loving you to death,
Like I’m losing my breath,
And all the smiles that I wear,
And all the games that I play,
And all the drinks that I mix,
And I drink until I’m sick,
And all the faces I make,
And all the shapes that I throw,
And all the people I meet,
And all the words that I know,
Makes me sick to the heart,
Oh I feel so tired.
And the way the rain comes down hard, that’s how I feel inside.
I turned off the lights and stood there in the dark before making the long walk up the stairs. Of all the darks that one is the longest. But of all the darks, this is one of them. And it lasts for an amount of time. It could last forever, but then we wouldn’t care. Because we’d be dead. And there would be no one left to care.
I laid my head down. Kate was already asleep. I hope I dream well tonight and it doesn’t show up again. Funny how that tall stranger meeting seemed like deja vu.
I think I might already be a quantum hunting glitch dreamer – I just didn’t know it had a name.