poopdapoop

he'd been told to cut back, but after a ten hour work day he never gave much thought to the doctor's orders. there was a certain allure to that bottle of jim beam waiting for him in the back of the kitchen cabinet. it was the way he had felt about coming home to his wife during the first few years of marriage, except probably stronger. in all fairness, he was forty-eight and she wasn't getting any younger either. he noticed a few years ago that gravity had started taking it's toll on her breasts, and as much as he'd like to blame his forties for his diminished libido, he knew that his wife's perfect figure going to s**t was the real culprate. it wasn't her fault, time is just a b***h that way, he mused. his thoughts turned back to that bottle, and his foot grew heavy on the accelerator.

 

the brakes of his lexus squeeled into the driveway and clumsily stuttered to a stop. the sound reminded him that he needed to get it looked at, but really he didn't care. the car was an impulse buy after he got a raise a few years back. he joked to his friends that he'd put more money into fixing it up than he did to buy it, and it wasn't far from the truth and that annoyed him. he was thinking that everything was falling apart before he reeled that thought back in and scolded himself for being a melodramatic putz, although this wasn't far from the truth either. he thought about last friday night when he walked downstairs and found his fifteen-year-old daughter blowing the high school's quarterback. she had called him an a*****e. for what? it was his goddamn house. he cringed, and walked toward his front door.

 

he was home alone, and glad. karen had taken joey to little league practice and danielle was probably out getting gang banged by the defensive line. time to hit the bottle. he poured his drink and moved into his living room. he sat down on the couch. it was the same couch his father had died on four years ago, and the same couch his baby girl had given (hopefully, but probably not her first) head to the superstar athlete just last week. he downed the glass and examined it for a few seconds. he would just grab the bottle when he cared to get back up. he waited a few minutes longer and he was decidedly too sober.

 

he drifted listlessly through the hallway toward the kitchen. his eyes made brief, agonizing contact with his family portrait. he couldn't believe he ever thought it was a good idea. all the fuss of wrestling joey into a suit and tie, and getting danielle to take that f*****g gum out of her mouth. she called him a jerk. (jerk to a*****e in three short years? time surely flies) all the arguing for the kids just to smile for three seconds. karen complained about her feet. she was standing behind the goddamn kids. what'd she need heels for again? he put that question out of his mind, he remembered it getting him into hot water anyway. he wondered why it was only recently that he'd noticed just how pathetic his life was and when it had become so. and then he drank.

 

...

 

sitting at his computer, he scrolled through emails, from his mother, his coworkers, his attorney. it was a particular piece of junk mail caught his eye, however, from [email protected]. he opened it and a photo loaded, a naked girl, licking her lips and touching herself. he assumed it was mandy, not that he would know. he stared with drunken intrigue as if staring long enough would bring those perky c-cups off of the screen and into his hands. he was aroused. one hand undid his pants while the other slid past the elastic band of his underwear. he gripped himself firmly and began to salivate. he was thinking about what a dirty w***e mandy was...

 

he didn't even hear the door open. danielle was becoming quite good at sneaking in and out of the house. he didn't hear her walk into the living room either, or drop her backpack in utter shock.

 

he was totally oblivious until she screamed "dad! what the f**k? oh my god! you're so disgusting." she ran out of the room.

he stammered idiotically "uh, s**t, f**k, um! goddammit, danielle! what are you doing home?"

she was already gone, he heard her pounding up the steps to her room and she screamed down at him "don't f*****g talk to me while your dick is hanging out! jesus christ! what's wrong with you?"

 

he frantically closed the email, stabbing at the mouse with his index finger. he sighed and put a hand to his pounding head. adrenaline and embarassment were coursing through his body. he wondered why she was allowed to get some varsity letter's rocks off in the living room, but he wasn't entitled to his own. 

 

"it's my house too, you know!" he shouted into the hallway.

 

he heard a muffled "f**k you" in reply, from behind a closed door and loud rock music. he tried to relax, but couldn't, though he did take some solace in the fact that his erection had died before his daughter finished uttering that first syllable.

 

...

 

he had retreated to his bedroom, and he was by himself. danielle was gone, as was the whiskey. he sat down on the edge of his bed and looked to his night stand. there was a lamp, a framed picture of he and karen, he with his arms around her on a swing in the back yard, and a post-it note. his head swirling with alcohol, he had to close one eye to read.

 

"james,

dinner's in the oven

-karen"  

 

 

Reviews

[Timothy Lawmowe]

really nice so far. id like to see where it goes. yeah, punctuation sucks, but that doesnt say its not good storytelling

[TBPopper]

You didn't capitalize a single word in this. It's called 'Poopdapoop'. This doesn't convey any real thought, and is hands down the least enjoyable thing I've read on this site.

I just don't see 'coherent' in this.