Free short stories about Generation End

Archive for the ‘Christie’ Category

YOU NEED MORE MONEY

you need money

Sometimes I see the earth as this tiny marble occupied by these even tinier dots called people, and all these people are looking up at a giant sun made of money, and they’re all bowing to it, talking about it night and day, thinking about it night and day, and when they’re not talking or thinking about money night and day, they’re talking or thinking about sex night and day: these vast fields of moist, succulent cocks and pussies and bumholes and mouths all fucking each other endlessly – then all these people, these tiny, tiny people on this tiny marble, their minds are so filled with money and fucking, money and fucking, money and fucking, that their brains actually explode from the immensity of it all, and because of this the marble they live on shatters to pieces, but then you know what? The sun made of money keeps on living, imposing its brightness on anything else that stumbles beneath its path.

“I’m tired of being poor, Christie.” This is what I said to Christie.

“Then stop being poor, Dean.” This is what she said back.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Of course it isn’t.”

“Why can’t it be easy?”

“Nothing good comes easily.”

“But is money good?”

“Hmmm.” She put her finger on her chin.

“What would we do if we didn’t have to make money?”

“Travel, I guess.”

“Everyone says they want to ‘travel’ but in the end we’ll get sick of travelling. Plus I think people are secretly afraid of travelling or of change or of anything they can’t complain about.”

“Then what do you think we would do, Dean?”

“We’d kill ourselves from boredom,” I said, trying to sound philosophical and wise.

“Compared to everyone else, are you even that poor? It will never be enough, no matter how much you make.”

“I’ll be fine with thirty-eight billion dollars.”

“Just trust in God.”

“I don’t think God rewards lazy, trusting people that much.”

“You say the prayers but you also have do the work.”

I thought about this guy in the city who asked me for money. He said he needed it for the bus home. I gave him money and watched him walk into a McDonald’s. “I just want to sleep.”

“You spend more than you earn, Dean.”

“I just don’t like being limited by life and all its limitations.”

“You don’t want to be someone who takes but never gives.” Christie looked up from her iPad. She’d just finished ordering a new dress online. “Want to go out for dinner or something?” she asked.

“Where you thinking?”

“That Indonesian place in New Farm?”

Sure. I looked at my bank statement from my phone and frowned.

 

_

Read my book

MIRACLES IN WEST END

miracles in west end

I had become a mess so Christie told me to visit a lady in West End who performs miracles. Apparently, she helped cure a lady of her cancer, she helped cure a friend of his chronic back pains, she returned joy to a broken person’s life.

I went to the hall and sat down among a small group of others. The lights were dim and music was playing, and although I was thinking of nothing I wept. It was a ridiculous catastrophe: tears keep stumbling away from me and I had no idea why.

“I don’t have powers,” she said to the small crowd, “I am merely an instrument of God.”

After a while a queue had formed for people to come up to her to be healed. As each person would approach her, she’d say something to them, and no matter their size, they would fall to the ground.

I was invited to come up to her. She closed her eyes and clasped her hands and smiled, and she placed her hands in mine and she whispered in my ear: “You never have to feel lonely again. God is with you.” She blew onto my chest and I fell to the ground, and I lay there, thinking that nothing inside me had changed.

I stood up and returned to my seat, wondering what the hell just happened.

This guy who was around my age came from nowhere and sat next to me. “You don’t have to feel alone anymore,” he said without invitation, “I’m certainly not.” He spoke of other things – his addictions, his ego, the homes he’d lived in, and how his coming closer to God had cleaned his soul. He told me that everyone will go to heaven. “I think I’m supposed to talk to you and I don’t know why.” He hugged me, stood up and walked out of the hall.

I sat there on my own until ten in the evening. I was exhausted. When it was over I drove home and fell into a deep sleep.

 

__

Book I’m reading: Walt Disney: The Triumph of the American Imagination 

Show I’m watching: Billions

Buy my book

SOMETHING IN YOUR STOMACH

Someone from work once gave me a moleskin, and for some time I just let it sit at the back of my car.

“If you don’t want to write in it, why don’t you draw something in it?” Christie asked me from her hospital bed.

“Yeah okay,” I complained. “Like drawing is so fucking easy.”

She got mad, so I drew something:

kanye west standing on 3 heads“How much drugs are you on?” she asked me.

“Nothing!” I lied, so I drew something else:
an evil spirit about to give you a handjob

She laughed at this one. Well it was a tiny laugh, but I still considered it a laugh.

Christie was in hospital for something they’d found in her uterus that was causing her to bleed.

“Apparently, there’s a chance I can’t have kids,” she said, her eyes turning a little red. There was a tube in her arm and she looked small in her hospital bed – she hadn’t been properly eating in days. “Will you still be with me if I can’t have kids?”

I looked at her and her family members standing behind her. They were pretending not to be listening to our conversation. “Of course.”

I remember once thinking that if I were to ever be a dad, I had to be a young dad, like a nineteen-year-old dad, or a twenty-one-year-old dad. I didn’t want to be some old dad who couldn’t relate to my kid. But then I grew older and older and I became almost thirty, and then I thought that if I were to have a kid, maybe I should adopt a twenty-one-year-old or something, someone who’s already grown past that shitty rebellious adolescent stage of life and is graduating and has an entry level job at some large and stable company, and is in a stable relationship, and any disturbing vices they may secretly carry would have nothing to do how I treated them when they were five years old, because I wasn’t there when they were five years old. Can I handle a child? Can I hold one, and feed one, and understand one, and love one no matter what? No matter what? I mean, why make one when you can adopt one, right? Can you even adopt a twenty-one year old?

And then I realised that I was actually rambling the above monologue out loud to Christie, and her whole family was watching.

“The hell are you on about, Dean?” her brother asked me.

I continued holding Christie’s hand, and we continued talking about other things, and her family left, and I stayed until the nurse said I had to go. I leant my head against Christie’s chest, and I told her that I wanted to listen to her heart, and I listened to her heart, and then I stood up and said goodnight and I walked all the way home.

 

__

Buy my book

GUYS IN AN ALLEYWAY

guys in an alleyway

Christie and I were walking along the city and this guy snatched her purse.

“Let’s chase him!” she said and we ran and found him in an alleyway, where about five or six of his friends were waiting.

“Let’s get out of here,” Christie said and we ran off.

It was a quiet drive home.

 

_

Book I’m reading: Infinite Jest

VALENTINE’S DAY LOVE

Christie told me that she fell in love with Barry Edgar about four years ago. He didn’t know that she’d fallen in love with him, and understandably so: she didn’t tell him and she didn’t change anything about the way she treated him.

Barry Edgar was a waiter who once travelled to Europe. He also once travelled to India. He also once travelled to Beijing, to Philippines, to Peru. Barry was shorter than the average guy and he had hairy shoulders, and his deodorant had a strong, musky smell. There was nothing really special about Barry, but then there was really nothing that special about Christie, so she thought it fitting that they were destined to be together.

To Christie, falling in love was more than just a childish feeling of falling in love. She tried her best not to think of “falling in love” as something that was merely a product of evolution, of the movies, of pop songs, of seeing her parents, of hearing her friends. Christie wanted to fall in love in a completely unique way, in a way that was individual to her. But how could she do this when so much of her was a product of her environment? How much of her “falling in love” truly came from her heart?

Picturing herself as a bouquet of flowers, Christie spun in dramatic circles with the hope of shaking off any unruly untruths in her life. She meditated, she shed her skin, she consumed, she prayed, she sold, she gave up, she quit, she ran, she ignored – she dedicated an entire year to only telling the truth, of being completely honest with herself and shedding all insecurities, all bonds and all connections, even her physical connection with Barry. Feeling like a Buddhist, she detached herself from everything, and in her pursuit of complete honesty she found nothing but love. Not only love for Barry, but love for herself, and of the world, and of God.

About four years ago I told this girl I loved her because of the way she said the word “cunt”. This girl had a great smile and a great body and she rarely shaved her pubic hairs and she was taken by someone else. “I’m addicted, Dean,” she texted me, and I texted back, “To what???” and she replied with, “to everything there ever was.” And at one in the morning, the morning after Valentine’s, I picked her up, and we drove to McDonald’s and bought nuggets and we didn’t say much and I tried to kiss her in the parking lot, and she said, “Not until we take some,” and I said, “Some what???” and she replied with, “take some of everything that ever was.” And around noon we drove to some crowded beach at the Gold Coast and we ran into the sea.

LOVE CHECKLIST

love checklist are we free

“Being in a relationship is an easy yet complicated process.” This is what Christie started our conversation with.

“Really now.”

“At first it’s easy because there’s no checklist yet. There are no rules – you’re soaked in this, this unshakeable high. But then, once you get comfortable with the other person, a checklist emerges, and all of a sudden you find yourself looking at your lover and asking, ‘Do they fulfill my checklist?’ and in turn, they’re looking straight back at you and asking the exact same thing.” She played with her fork a little bit. “But then, but then it gets much more complicated. Because the checklist changes, because people change.”

“So when it comes to love or any kind of relationship, checklists can like, come and ruin everything.”

“That’s an odd way of seeing things.”

“So what’s your checklist of me?” I asked her.

“Are we in a relationship?” She smiled.

“Once upon a time I wrote down exactly who I wanted to be with on a piece of paper.”

“So did I.”

This amused me. “So we both have checklists.”

“I guess so.”

“Can’t you say these checklists are ruining our lives?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘ruin’.”

“Is your checklist different now?”

Christie took my hand and then took me to a church. The church wasn’t the same as the types of churches I grew up seeing in the movies. The church had rock music, and people would sing for long stretches of time, some speaking in tongues, and the guy in the middle, the pastor, would speak in the same way Obama would speak. I looked at Christie singing with the other people. Her eyes were closed and her hands were high and she was smiling and she reminded me of someone I was once in love with.

On the drive to Christie’s, at a red light, I asked her something I suddenly thought about: “Why do women say ‘Oh my God’ during orgasms?”

 

__

Book I’m reading: Love in the Time of Cholera

THE END OF EVERYTHING IN THE ENTIRE WORLD

life after death - the end of everything in the entire world

Are there two Christians with the exact same ideals? Are there two atheists who believe in exactly the same things? I wonder how Jesus meditated. I wonder how he prayed and what he asked for on a daily basis. I wonder what Buddha would’ve looked like, if he would’ve been taller than me, and if he was bald and always laughing in the same way he does on all of those statues. What did the Prophet Muhammad do in his spare time? Einstein said that science without religion is lame, and religion without science is blind.

“When the universe ends – when my life ends, what will I see?” This is what I texted Christie.

“You’ll see me.” This is what she texted back.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I know everything.”

“I don’t believe I’ll see you.”

“Ouch,” she replied with a frowney face. “lol.”

“I don’t believe I’ll see anybody.”

“You don’t believe in heaven?”

“I do and don’t. Sometimes I hope for eternal happiness, sometimes I hope for an immediate end. I mean, if heaven were real, we’d have to live FOREVER.” I paused, then added: “Do you really want to be living forever?”

I watched my phone say, “Christie is typing” for a while until her message finally appeared: “If it means being happy forever, if it means being with God forever, then yes. I’d be with my God and I’d be with my love, whoever it may be. It’ll be wonderful.”

I deleted Christie’s message and put my phone away. It took me four hours (and thoughts of her naked) to reply to her with a completely different subject: “Want to hang out? I’m bored.” And we went to this place in the city that served interesting ramen.

 

_

Book I’m reading: Seduction

DRINKING WINE ON A BALCONY BEFORE CHRISTMAS

balcony lookout

“Have you ever spoken to God on Christmas?”

This is what Christie asked me as we sat on my couch on my balcony. It was some time in the evening, and beyond us, beyond the railing, were buildings and trees and lights, and beyond that was the city, and beyond that was the universe, and beyond that was time, and the future and the present and the past, and beyond that was God. God who has to exist, otherwise how else will anything exist? But who made God?

“How do you speak to God?”

“How do you think?”

“I asked you first.”

“Did you?”

Christie took a sip of her wine. “Do you think you and I grew up making the wrong choices?”

“What do you mean?” I was looking at her legs.

“I mean, do you think it’s too late for us? I have this colleague, he’s this handsome guy, this built guy, and he’s married and he’s so faithful to his wife. I was speaking to him, and he’s like, this leader of his church group and he has these talks about how guys should stop watching pornography and treating woman like objects.”

I looked at her lips, thinking about the photos she used to send me. “I mean I think there’s always a chance for people to redeem themselves. No matter how terrible the things they’ve done and even continue to do. No one wants to admit this, but all it takes is one day or even one minute for someone to completely turn their lives around.”

 

__

Book I’m reading: Here I am