Sex or the Pussy?

By: W.B. Preston

Anjer and Dennis sit on a couch starring at the television. Dennis is flipping channels. Anjer rests her head on the palm of her right hand resting on the arm of the couch.

-Just pick something.
-There's nothing on.
-Then why are you flipping channels?
-Cause there might be something on.
-You just said there's nothing on.
-Something might come on while I'm flipping.

Anjer sighs and jumps out of her seat.
-Hey, wassup?

She turns back to him.
-I'm bored.
-We're just watching tv.
-No we're not.

Dennis motions towards the glowing screen.
-I don't want to sit here while you flip channels.
-Alright.

Dennis turns the tv off and sets the remote down.
-What should we do?

Anjer sits back down.
-Talk
-About what?
-Your cat.

They both look down at the black and white tabby.
-What about em?
-He's weird.
-He's a cat.
-I don't like him on the bed during sex.
-What?

Dennis is genuinely surprised.
-It's weird.
-You never said anything before.
-I'm saying something now.
-Why'd it take you so long?
-I didn't know how to bring it up.
-Well you sure eased into that one.
-Seriously.

The cat looks at Anjer.
-So what, I should just shoo him out of the room before we get naked?
-Preferably.
-He hates to be shooed.
-Dennis.
-What? He's a cat, he's sensitive.
-I'm not doin it with him on the bed.
-What's so bad about it?
-He stares at me!
-You're imagining things.
-It's like he's jealous or something.
-Don't be ridiculous.
-I'm not being ridiculous, you're the one that's ridiculous, having sex with a cat on the bed.

Dennis pulls his hands through his hair.
-I don't want to make this a big thing.
-Well, what's it gonna be? Sex or the pussy?

Dennis looks down at the cat. The cat glares at Anjer.
-See look at em, he's starring at me.
-You're crazy.
-I am not crazy, that cat is evil.
-Now he's evil.
-Look at em!
-He's a cat for christssake. What do you want him to do, change his expression?
-He doesn't stare at you like that.
-He looks at everything the exact same way, cause he's a cat!
-His eyes get squinty when he looks at me, like he's got an attitude.
-Cats can't get attitudes.
-That cat has an attitude.

They sit for a moment looking at the cat. The cat stares at Anjer.
-What's it gonna be?
-Fine, he's out of the room during sex.
-Your gonna keep em?
-What have we been talking about?
-Your gonna let that cat, that obviously hates me, stay here?
-You want me to get rid of my cat?
-Him or me.
-I've known that cat longer than I've known you.
-So.
-My mom gave me that cat.
-Well give it back to her.

Dennis stands up and walks towards the door. He opens it and gestures outside.
-Get out.
-It's not just gonna leave.
-Anjer get out.
-You kickin me out?

He motions towards the hallway.
-I can't believe you pickin a cat over me.

Anjer stands up and walks towards the door.
-I hope you and your cat are happy together.
-We will be.
She walks out. Dennis slams the door. He plops down on the couch and starts flipping channels again. The cat jumps into his lap.

A Downward Spiral Culminating In Hell

 By: W.B. Preston

    
     Dr. Gian Relp was working on a formula that would account for the discrepancies of time and space. What is the opposite of fall? Float? Hover? That would mean whenever we are on the ground we are falling. So the minute we are born we are in a state of constant downward spiraling. A downward spiral culminating in hell. Impossible to know. The only fact is we die. Is this due to the force of gravity? The literal fall of man. After so many years of falling we reach the bottom, life is forced out of us, back to the top, giving the next generation a chance to fall from grace. This is turning theological. It's roots in science. Ho do we not fall? This is one of the questions Dr. Relp wanted to answer.

ANOTHER: When you turn light off, where does it go? When you turn on the light, you have it there, for your own consumption. Every time and anytime you flick the switch, the light comes to you, rather quickly. And just as quickly as that, it leaves when you turn it off. Where does it go? Is there a pool of infinite light and energy, just lying around somewhere waiting for us to summon it for our own amusement. What kind of life is this for something as powerful as light? No there must be something else light wishes to do, rather than provide a visible room for humans to weep in. The good Dr. is developing a light tracker, to track the light. The light from his light bulb will travel down his cord and into his machine on its way to the light source. On its way out of his machine it will acquire a number. This number will be tracked by the machine. The Dr. will be able to see this number anywhere in the universe. Thus finding the source of light.

ANOTHER: The stabilization of sound. This one is a secret, as the government has tried to weaponize his inventions before. Sound, as we know it, starts loud, in a relatively localized space, usually where the sound was created. However the sound does not magnify outward as the waves disperse. Rather the sound tends to weaken the further from the source it gets. The Dr. wanted to reverse this phenomenon. He wanted to create a sound that started out silent, and then grew exponentially as the waves dispersed. As you can imagine the consequences of this could be disastrous, as the sound would grow to literally earth shattering high levels, and quite possibly universe shattering levels. If he could some how control the waves, he could stop the decibels from rising too high. Unfortunately he can not test this machine, for even one miscalculation could destroy the entire universe as we know it. Not to worry, Dr. Relp has many projects that can be tested quite safely. 

Flippin The Fuck Out

 By W.B. Preston


FADE IN:

EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT

A parked car in an empty parking lot. BRADLEY in the driver's seat.

His muffled screams slightly audible by two men passing by.

MIKE

(To the other man)

Call 911.

MIKE yanks the car door handle and pulls Bradley out of the car and to the ground.

BRADLEY

The hell you doin!?

Mike's arms wrapped around Bradley's chest.

MIKE

Calm down, an ambulance is on its way.

Bradley looks up at the man on the cell.

BRADLEY

For what?!

MIKE

You're not having a seizure.

BRADLEY

No!

Bradley pushes Mike's arms off of him and stands up.

The other man hangs up the cell phone.

Mike pulls him self off the ground.

MIKE

Well what the hell were you doin?

BRADLEY

I was flippin the fuck out!

MIKE

You flip out often?

BRADLEY

You yank people from cars often?

MIKE

I'm a paramedic.

Bradley looks at Mike then the other guy.

MIKE

That's Toney

Bradley looks at him.

TONEY

Glad your ok.

BRADLEY

Yeah me too.

They stand silent for a moment.

MIKE

We here just goin in, can I buy you a drink or somethin?

Bradley looks at them again.

BRADLEY

You guys gay?

Mike and Toney chuckle.

MIKE

Nah, just feel bad is all.

BRADLEY

I guess I could go for a beer.

They walk towards the liquor store.

END SCENE.

The Silent Song

The Silent Song

W.B. Preston

Beneath her stride sweeps melody

Her every step a song.

She sings silently still,

Her whispers live forever.

Sunken under ocean sands,

A stolen treasure hidden,

With the thief lost forever.

See it brightly shinning

Wrapped in boney prison bars?

You know me from the night.

There she lay comfortably,

Sheets of time shift their beds.

Bottom feeders rob the dead.

Lifted heads by woven dreams.

A statue sings to those that see

The shadow's son blissfully.

He dances to her song below

Unheard by passersby.

I touch your toes through dreams and time.

She always seems to cry.

The place she lays where no one knows.

No one goes to see her.

No one hears her song,

But thieves.

And yet they can not see her.

They see the prize.

A stolen dream, a treasure.

Unknowing, all along,

She's worth double her weight in gold!

Mirrworld

Mirrworld

W.B. Preston

     I stand by myself starring in a mirror. Someone stares back, but it is not me. Or more accurately, I do not feel like the person that stares back at me. That person is not me. He moves when I move, he feels what I feel, he cries when I cry, and still he is not me. I do not know why he cries but it can not be for the same reasons I do. He has this cocky look on his face like he is completely at ease and sure of everything going on around him. That is not the way I feel. 

     

     That arrogant smirk is not the way I look, to me. To me, I'm worried and scared. At any moment the ground could open up into a huge crack and the skies could fall in, taking me and my mirror with it. So when I look into the mirror I expect to see this anxiety reflected in my face. Yet every morning I awake to find that my face is calm and still. This worries me. 

     

     So much so that I have come to the conclusion that, however unlikely, this person in the mirror is not me. It can not be me. For if it was, it would mean, that I am incapable of projecting the feelings that reside on the edge of my psyche. That would make me a sociopath or something right? To be unable to express emotions that are so clearly and deeply residing within? No, that is way too frightening a possibility. No I'll stick with the doppelganger theory. 

     

     There is a mirror world on the other side of this glass. Mirrworld. Yes, and from this other world my doppelganger stares at my sad self and attempts to mask what he sees in the mirror with a smirk. That's it! He smirks to compensate for my anxiety. And all this time I thought I was going mad. Perhaps if I began smirking he would begin to frown. 

     I wonder what my life would be like if I smiled more like him. He probably was popular in school, and got girls to talk to him, all because he smiled to hide my frown. He probably had friends and laughed and played and joked and bullied the quiet, sullen children like me. Our lives diverge and connect here at the mirror. At a fork in the road of a smile and a scowl. And what of his dreams?

     Were his dreams lively and carefree? Colorful and light. While mine dreary and gray, filled with dark corners hiding evil behind. Afraid of the dark but too afraid to close my eyes to sleep, I wept. So did he. But why? Why would he cry if he had that life? The life everyone wants. The life I should have. I must know what this Mirrworld Man feared. I must enter Mirrworld. But how?