Saturday April 23, 2005
	At the roller skating rink in Florida.
	She's fifteen years younger than me and she's going around the rink again and again and when she passes me she yells: "C'mon Norm." I smile and wave and while I'm waving I'm thinking: Look at her.  Just look at her.  She's like a f-ckin' gazelle.  Thin, little frame and long hair.  She's your type alright, Norm.  Jeez, I like her perfume.  When she passes me again I'm going to inhale (through my nose) extra hard.  Why are you standing here, Norm?  Get out on the rink and show her your moves.  What moves?  The only move you've got is trying to stay upright.  She's gonna think you're out of gas.  That you're old.  Do you want her to think that? What are you talking about, you are out of gas.  Look at those legs.  Jesus.  I'd like to wrap my arms around her thighs and cry for about an hour.  That would be good for me.  I'd be safe there.  When they drop the lights and turn on the mirror ball I'll go back out there and then she won't see how hard I'm breathing.  That's a good idea.  No that's a stupid idea.  You can't see now.  You need all the light you can get.  Forget the mirror ball idea.  Shit.  Here she comes.  Push your chest out, watch your posture and smile.  Get ready to say something witty.  Jesus.              "C'mon baby," she says then moving past me (while skating backwards). "I just put in a song request," I say.  "I hope you like Dope Show by Marilyn Manson. I'm drinking Coca-Cola.  I like Coca-Cola and when all the cola is gone the ice cubes slide down the waxed paper cup and hit my bleached teeth and I'm thinking:  Jesus she's got nice tits.  I'd like to suck them and then like a baby kangaroo I'd like to climb inside them.  That would be good for me.  I'd be safe there.  I'd be a joey.  PREVIOUS   HOME   NEXT