There are 2 sources of this fiction. 98% of the circumstances never happened. Part of this story was
inspired by The New Yorker, the
finest magazine in the United States.
Did I add to the story? Yes. But absolutely very few circumstances are
true. I also added NIN's song "Piggy (Nothings Gonna Stop Me Now)."
1. The Infatuation
When Floyd was walking to the football game, in the
city where he was a student, this beautiful brunette said hi. “Are you going to the big football game?” he smiled.
“Of course, look at my ticket,” as she put the ticket
in his face.
“Damn, it’s too bad we were in different
sections. I sit in the student section,”
he forlornly replied.
“You don’t know anything,” she laughed.
“Bitch, I’m a student who has gone to school for 4
years!” she held his hand and smiled.
“Why is she smiling right after I called her “bitch”? She is so calm. She is so superly curvaceous! He would much prefer a woman 15 lbs over, than under.
“What I really meant, Baby, is that you have book
smarts, but very little street smarts!”
She whipped out her pack of Parliament cigarettes and started
smoking.
“Why do you smoke? You’re going to get cancer. Did you know that the US SURGEON GENERAL SAID
cigarettes always damage lungs? Since
the year I was born, cigarettes have had the SURGEON GENERAL’S warning. Barb, stop it!!!!”
“Well, Baby…”
“MY name is Floyd!” he interrupted.
“Woooowww, big
college student!! Oh, that’s even better! You are my Pink Floyd. Now, here’s the
plan. You go into your gate, into your
section, then I’ll go into my section.
You’re going to buy me popcorn and the biggest Coke you can find and sit
in the BACK ROW. Don’t sit in the seat you’re assigned.” They stopped. Right by the red autumn tree, they rapped
their arms each other and French Kissed.
Floyd felt their tongues, the world, and the Future
all spinning in sync! “Don’t be like
Lucy in the Sky of Diamonds and suddenly disappear.”
Barb said, “I won’t leave you for the world!” She lit
another cigarette with the filter towards Floyd as they stood close. “now, if
you don’t want me to get cancer my dear Pink Floyd, you smoke the pack with me, and I'll have fewer cigarretes!”
He lifted the cigarette out of her fingers and smoked
a long deep inhale from the Parliament.
They French Kissed again as she grabbed his balls. She stared into his brown eyes.
“Thank you, Barb-baby, for making me feel cool. Thank you for giving me the chance to love
you so much, the opportunity no woman in my hometown ever gave me!,” the tears flowed and his
voice quivered as he said the last part.
“I’ll take you where you never been,” she said calmly. They held hands, smoking and going to a big
football game. Sometimes they ran and
laughed. Sometimes, they caught their
breath, while Floyd picked up her cigarettes.
Floyd’s voice still quivered, “I got a confession,
Baby. I don’t have enough money to get
you the popcorn and Coke you need!”
Barb was about 5’6” but walked and ran like she was
six feet tall. She reached up, put his
fingers on his lips and replied, “buy me licorice. You don’t have to eat the popcorn, because
that makes you thirsty for Coke. You don’t
have to buy Coke, because you’ll wanna eat more popcorn. With licorice, we’ll suck, chew and consume it the
whole game.”
“BARB, YOU ARE SUCH A GENIUS!”
In the stadium, she calmly said as they were sitting in the back of
the stands, “you have book smarts and I have street smarts, stick with me my
Pink Floyd. We’ll go a long way.”
“Wow, that Al Toon can really catch the football.”
“Wooww!” she squealed, “he’s gonna score!” They hugged and kissed more as the crowd erupted.
“You know when I was on the football team, I averaged
11 yards per catch my senior year. I was a good blocker….”
“STOP!”
“I’m sorry, Barb!”
“This is what I mean, Floyd.
Enjoy the fall season,
enjoy the awesome football game,
enjoy the happiness that Al Toon scored, enjoy LOVE!”
They stood up again and couldn’t stop kissing. He stared back at her and said, "And let's enjoy the LOVE." This must be something like
heaven. He couldn’t remember the score,
he couldn’t remember that their team had more first downs than Indiana.
He only thought of her.
He did remember her big black 1982 F-150. She drove serenely home with a hand on the
steering wheel and one hand on his knee.
“Barb, I’ve got to study. I gotta study. I have a sociology mid-term that is really,
really important. By the way, what does
your Dad do for a living?” as they slowly walked to her house.
“He sells insurance,” she replied.
“What kind of insurance?”
“All kinds.”
When they were near the garage, Floyd pulled her body
into his, and they kissed another 7 minutes.
She started walking to her house.
He stared, he couldn’t believe it.
He never was this cool before.
She threw the keys backwards; he dove and caught them with both hands.
“Nice catch, big boy. No go home and study!”
“But how are you going to get into the house if I’m driving
your truck home,” he asked.
“I just opened the door, dumbass,” she said
placidly.
“Watch your mouth, Baby,” He got into the truck and drove
to the dorm. He didn’t remember anything
about the drive. He remembered that he
was going to drive very, very safely, because this was the first time he was
madly in love, and it was their truck.
He was in his dorm room studying intently for his test
Tuesday night. The door closed, and he
said, “Milton are you studying for your math exam?”
2. THE SWIRLING "LOVE"
He turned around, and she was there! “HOLY SHIT! You’re my Lucy in Sky of
Diamonds!” he yelled.
“Oh, yummy. Now,
let’s do my laundry,” she said.
“But can’t you do laundry at your parents?”
“I can’t stand my parents.”
“Ok, but the laundry room is a little cramped.”
“Don’t they have any desks down on that floor?”
“Barbara Dolly, you’re a genius. I forgot they have a whole room of
studying students by the laundry room.”
“Just shut up and study,” she replied.
“Don’t you need quarters?” he asked. She thrust her hand out, and he gave her a $1.75
for washing and drying one load. They
turned away from each other, because they were tired of kissing. They had their own work tonight.
He felt like maybe he could finally get an “A” on the
exam. He knew it was tough, because the
grading curve was high. He wanted that “A” in his Adolescent Deviance class. After all, he was in Madison and graduate
students were in the same class driving up the same, damn grade curve. It made getting an “A” nearly
impossible. With a tap on the shoulder,
she said, “let’s go.”
With fatigue, they slowly walked to the elevator and
slowly walked into his dorm. She ripped
the post-it note from his room. They both smoked their Parliaments. She put the note in her pocket.
“Give me that note, you bitch!” he commanded.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Don’t you ever listen to me? What the fuck did I say about my exam? “Now, give
me that fuckin’ note!”
She narrowed her blue eyes. “if you take that note out of my pocket, that
means you have no trust in me. If you
have no trust in me, you’ll never get to see me again.” Floyd begged her to read the note.
With fatigue, she stood saying sleepily, “Floyd-baby…”
“He didn’t call me ‘baby’ “
“Just shut the fuck up!”
“NO! You STFU!”
“ ‘ Floyd, I am going to my friend’s place. I won’t see you until Friday. Let’s get drunk when I come back.’ Milton“
She stopped and looked at him in a deadly, hard glare,
“are you getting drunk Friday” she asked and knew the answer was NO. He looked at her with excitement. She took off her sweater, and they started
undressing.
When Floyd was a child, he was afraid a tornado would
blow down his barn, his house and the world he knew. He didn’t know there were “happy
tornadoes.” She’s was on top with her
heaving breasts. Then, he’s on top and
making her gasp. They had their “happy
tornado.” When he woke up the next
morning, the girl with the sun in her eyes was gone. He started humming “Lucy in the Sky with
Diamonds.”.
The next 4 weeks were a fast swirl of activity:
Ø Read
about 250 pages a week;
Ø Study
hard! Feel confident, because, on multiple choice tests, the answer is staring
you in the face;
Ø Go
to class and take notes. Figure out if
you’re doing shorthand or writing out the notes carefully that the professor
wrote on the board;
Ø Study
hard and learn you got only a “BC,” not an “A”. Those damn graduate students. Then he sighed, “can’t
demonize them. I guess they have more at
stake than I do, gradewise.”
Ø Work
hard, make money at the place he worked
at, Pops Club;
Ø Watch
her come in and feel the happy, swirling tornado of "infatuation."
At the beginning of November, she came in his room. She stared at him. He couldn’t stop looking at her, hugging her,
feeling her nice big curves. “Are we
getting married?”
“YES!” as he started tearing up.
“You know how smart you are with your books? You know
the kind of smarts I have? We’re going
to do everything we dreamed about when we talked in the laundry room. They started breathing heavier; “do you trust
me, Floyd?”
“I’ll trust you forever!”
“I love the smell of your sweater,” they frenched again.
“Then take it,” he replied.
“I really love the smell of your winter coat, my Dear
Pink Floyd.
“Then take it!” Their happy tornado swirled
again.
When they stopped she looked at him coldly, “We’re going
to do the trick. I been in love before,”
she started singing rhythmically, “I been in love before. The hardest part is when you’re in it.”
“Just like our song by the Cutting Crew,” he
said.
She smiled sublimely, “we are going to go up and down
the hemisphere just like we go up and down in bed. Pittsburgh, Washington DC, NY, NY, Boston, Lake Buena Vista, FL, Miami, Mexico,
Guatamela…”
“But we don’t even speak Spanish,” he interrupted.
“Then we’ll go to Uruguay. We both know that nation promotes good
education and over 90% of their population is literate. We’re going to L.A. as we agreed and make you
famous. Now, take a deep breath. Yeah,
that’s it. I’ve been in love
before. Mickey and I used to do a trick,
and it goes like this. You see my car,
and I see your car. We both love to
drive at least 80 mph.”
“Ok, because we really don’t care about the cops.”
“So, here is what Mickey and I did. We saw each other’s car driving down the state highway; we would switch
lanes. We would both switch driving in
the right lanes to driving in the left in unison.”
“And blow each other a kiss?” he interrupted.
“No, dumbass, you’re going 80 mph! Concentrate on the
road. How good of a driver are you?”
The world swirled, and he was 10 miles from
Madison. Suddenly, she was standing in front of a 1982
Chrysler LeBaron. “it’s yours, my Pink Floyd. Your white Chrysler Le Baron. We’re going to get married. I’ll go to Midnight Mass with you. We’ll meet your parents. We’ll go to Church every weekend, just like
you said. We’ll do what you said we both will do.”
He left her in ecstasy.
THE FINAL
“I saw you and I loved the way we switched lanes,” she
said on the phone.
“WHEN?” he
yelled.
“Tuesday afternoon.”
“I was in the library studying for my economics final!”
“Oh,” she replied.
“You bitch, you GIRLFRIEND, you switched lanes with
Mickey!”
“I’m sorry!”
Floyd slammed the phone down and cried.
On Decemer 7, 1984, he called her.
No answer. He called her and no
answer. He started slamming the phone
again and again with every no answer..
“WTF, Floyd! Stop slamming the
phone!” yelled Milton.
“I’m sorry, Milton!”
He sprinted to his car. He was doing 25, then 40, then
70 down the state highway. He blew thru
a stop sign and swept-smashed the bumper off another car. They skidded on the wet road, but somehow stayed on the asphalt.
“Are you ok,” Floyd asked.
“Are you drunk,” asked the old lady in her car.
“No, I’m scared! Just take the car!” he threw her the keys.
He didn’t hear her say, “Thanks, but you must be
drunk!”
He sprinted, then walked, then he remembered the song
by Whitenake, “Crying in the Rain.” He
ran more. He cried more. The blue and red lights, were flashing as he
heard the police car. He stopped and laid down crying face down on the asphalt.
“Turn over,” the policewoman said, “what are you
doing?”
“I gotta see, Barb!!!!” he shrieked as he stood up.
“STFU! JUST STFU NOW!! DON’T you dare talk in that volume
again to me! Do you understand? Now, get in!”
“I’m sorry!” he said quieter. She wouldn’t talk. He stared at the road watching her drive. "You’re driving into another town; it’s now 7 miles
away! That’s not even the town you patrol!”
She wouldn’t talk.
Finally, as they were in Barb’s town limits, she asked,
“What’s her address?”
“I can’t remember!” he started sobbing.
“When you stop crying, I’ll tell you the plan,” she
calmly said.
Two minutes later, he stopped. She slowly said, “You have 3 choices. We can put you in
jail, because you’re not in your right mind. You can go to the hospital two miles away, and there’s a mental ward.” She
walked right up to him and pointed at the direction of the hospital. OR find her?”
Tears were still streaming down his face. "What’s wrong, Floyd, don’t you have any pride?” she said.
He started running. He saw a glimpse of the truck.
After all her driving to help him find Barb, Floyd
rarely got mad at any other policewoman.
He recognized where she lived when he saw a bare tree
with red leaves on the ground. He ran a mile more than 10 mph. He ran; he ran
through the door. There was the glow of
the TV showing Gun Smoke and a glowing cigar in his mouth. Her father was 5’6” and 290. His disposition was worse, “so you’re the one who does her laundry.”
“Sir! Where is
she,”
“She’s dead.
She had a head on collision and died.
She never would’ve amounted to anything anyway!”
IN RAGE HE TOOK 3 STEPS TO POUND HER DAD’S
HEAD THROUGH THE WALL. The
dad was quick and flashed the brightest flashlight he ever saw. “Will beating
the shit out of me bring her back to life?“
He sprinted up the stairs, and collapsed on her bed. He grabbed his winter coat and took the 2nd
set of keys for his car. He grabbed them
out of the jacket he gave her. He
slammed ½ a bottle of Southern Comfort that was on her table. Then, he slept.
When it was 7am, the bed frame jerked toward the wall.
“Get up, Bitch!” he yelled at Floyd, “it’s funny she never would’ve amounted to
anything. She is as bad as my wife." the father said, “It's funny but I knew Barb wouldn’t
amount to no good. She is bad as my wife! Barb and her always joining sides and brow-beating me out of my argument,” he ruefully
said.
“She can’t be dead!” Floyd whispered,
heavy with sleep.
“STFU!!!!! GET OUT! DON’T EVER LET ME SEE
YOU AGAIN!” the dad screamed. While Floyd walked down the stairs, the father
kicked him hard in the tailbone.
Did he feel pain? No, Floyd
felt the defiance radiate thru his cold body. He thought, "I don’t care anymore. I don’t
care about living. I’ll quote Bob Dylan,
and hum. He hummed the part of the song
that said, 'when you got nothing, you got nothing to lose!' ”
“Where’s her fuckin' F-150 truck?”
“If you had gone to the police station,
you would’ve seen it!” the father called out.
Floyd felt like the time he was knifed in
the shoulder. “I don’t care!” he said.
Then, he started to sing “Piggy” by Nine Inch
Nails. He walked to the Greyhound
station where she drove him once. He slipped into his defiance, “I’m never
going to own a car. I’m never going to…” he looked at what direction the final street went
to the Greyhound bus.
Then he thought, “Hey pig, yeah you!!...
“All of my fears came true, black and blue and broken bones, you left me here,
I'm all alone. My little piggy needed something new. Nothing can stop me now/ ‘Cause
I don’t care anymore/Nothing can stop me now….” he mouthed the words, “cuz I’ll
never own a car! Cuz I’ll get a knife
and this time I’ll go right thru my neck into my medulla”
Then, he kept singing, “Piggy” that was contained in the album The
Downward Spiral, made by NIN and sung and arranged by Trent Reznor
“Hey pig
Nothing's turning out the way I planned
Hey pig there's a lot of things I hoped
you could help me understand
What am I supposed to do? I lost my shit
because of you!”
Suddenly, he saw the yellow of the Greyhound building
and the silver of the bus he was so familiar with. Suddenly, he felt ashamed at the pejorative word used against police.
He called and cried to both parents. He cried to his sister. He called and spoke
to his younger brother. He stepped into
the campus rectory at his Church. He was told to come to 1 of the priest’s
office.
The priest ripped the lit Parliament cigarette out of
Floyd’s mouth. “Don’t do that again. Don’t
smoke another cigarette. You know, Floyd,
it’s strange. You just poured your guts
out to me. You didn’t even cry. I see you on campus. Yet, you're often alone. We say, ‘hi,’ remember?”
“Yeah,”
“You are so hurt.
Do you need the Rite of Reconciliation?”
They were already in his room. Floyd
confessed all of his sins.
He grew up,
he matured. He went to a college west
of where he was. He laughed at the
fact that his last semester at Madison, he actually got a “B” average. He had a history class with his favorite
professor, John Sharpless. Sharpless ran
for congressman in his parents’ district.
Whenever he moved to a different region, he became
different, and, yet, similar. But, he still craves the ambition.
