1. I'm Not Running from Satan, I'm Running from Mortality

Dreams of the footballing squad.

I was having a conversation with my school friend. We weren’t at school. It was Friday night, and we were sitting in my silver 2003 Nissan Xterra, as we did on Friday nights. He was black. Still is, I’m pretty sure. Who’s to say, I haven’t seen him in a bit. I’m white. Always have been.

‘We should join.’

I was startled by his statement, for we had remained silently listening to Zee Avi for quite some time now. Her guitar songs were annoying, but I thoroughly enjoyed her voice. It sounded auto-tuned, however raw.

‘Join what..?’

‘The footballing squad.’

I don’t think ‘footballing’ is a verb, but I ignored it. We continued.

‘I can’t. I’m already on the rugby team.’

‘You lie.’

‘No. We don't play, or practice, or meet up. We just get our name in the yearbook under 'Santiago Memorical High Shcool Rugby Team 1968.’’

The old woman who ran the newspaper class had a bad skiing accident back in 1968, and she always thought from then on that she was in that year. Nobody was cruel enough to tell her.

‘How do I join?’ my black friend asked.

‘It’s very specific. You have to have a dream about a giant cockroach serving you coffee. 

Black.

If you ask for sugar, he eats your arms off.’

‘I have to just sit there?’

‘When you wake up, write down on a piece of paper that you DIDN’T have the dream. Flush the paper down the toilet. Then go wait by the kitchen sink for your application to come out the drain. Careful, it may be on fire.

Fill it out and return it to the cockroach.’

‘How?’

‘Do you wanna be on the team or not?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then you have to figure that out yourself.’

‘I guess…’

We had stopped talking after that. About twenty minutes and four songs later, he got out of my car, waved goodbye and walked into his house. His mother wasn’t home, so she wouldn’t be bothered that it was past midnight.

I drove home, all the while considering what my past boyfriends may have been doing at the same time as me.

Author's Note

This is purely experimental, as until now I had never tried something so ambiguous and surreal. Criticize how you will, I take anything. I'm not here to take notes, I'm here to get readers. Also, please mention any spelling/grammar errors I may have sped through.