Shareware Supreme Volume 6 #1/swsii.zip/swsii/201/RUBYV22.ZIP/RUBY22-5

Text File | 1993-05-28 | 40KB | 690 lines

Copyright 1993(c)
                       SUCCESS AND FAILURE
                        By David Mitchell


Los Angeles, California. Present Day

Thump..thump.......thump..thump.......thump..thump...........
     At thirty-seven years of age, Howard Kerns hadn't changed much
since his senior year in high school. He was still relatively
short and overweight at 5'6" and 191 pounds with little or no skin
color, (unless you considered pale, flabby white a color). His hair
was the same, short, bright red with a few streaks of grey. I guess
that you could say the only difference in his appearance from then
to now is that he had a few more inches of "Love Handles" around
his already large waist, thicker lenses in his glass, a little less
hair on the top, and a slight heart problem which, he was told by
the doctors, could be "easily controlled with the proper
medication."
     "Christ..." he mumbled quietly to himself as he stared at his
reflection in the bathroom mirror, "Who am I trying to fool? No one
PORKY! No one but yourself. You're still the same fat, ugly kid
that every bully in school used as their own punching bag. Get
real. Don't kid yourself.....BUT YOU'RE RICH!"
     He'd show those losers who was who and what was what at the
class reunion this evening.
     I'll bet they're all still living in that piss-ant-of-a-town,
Cassadaga, Washington, where the King and Queen of the senior
prom were Matt Collins, a goat roping, horse riding, cow shit
eating asshole, and Tiffany Wilson, a stuck up, cock-teasing,
bitch-of-a-blond.
     Howard was almost too engrossed in remembering his old high
school peers to notice that he had nicked himself once again with
his trusty Gillette razor. Blood began to slowly flow down his left
cheek. He gazed into the mirror in front of him. The warm,
trickling blood opened an old door in his mind, a rusty closet
which held all of his past childhood anxieties. A closet which,
twenty years ago, Howard had tried to lock forever within his mind.
His mind had found the key to the closet once more. Thump..
Thump.....Thump..Thump.....Thump..Thump.....Thump..Thump..
     "STOP IT HOWARD!" He yelled at himself as he grabbed for his
pill box. He quickly placed one pill under his tongue and closed
his eyes, letting the nitro take its effect. "Cut it out, you're
NOT the same dumb, fat kid you once were so stop it right now!"
     But what if someone brings it up?
     What if they all laugh at you again?
     What if they DO it to you again?
     What if they...
     "THEY WON'T! I WON'T LET THEM! And besides, they are all
grown adults and won't even remember. Yeah, that's right. Everyone
is grown now and everyone is mature now, and they won't even
remember the time they..."
Thump.Thump....Thump.Thump....Thump.Thump....Thump.Thump....Thump
     Howard closed his eyes with all of his might until it felt as
if his eyes would implode beneath his fatty, colorless eyelids. It
didn't help, the vision was trying to resurface.
     The closet was found in the back of his mind. The closet full
of evil, twisted memories of his childhood. Locked behind a door
in his mind's past memories which he could never EVER bear to open.
So much hatred, so much anger, so much horror for anyone to ever
have had to go through.
     "Ding Dong..................Ding Dong....."
      The doorbell echoed through the house like one of those
heard in an old horror film. It was this noise that brought Howard
back to reality and away from the closet in his mind.
     "Ding Dong........Ding Dong..........Ding....Dong..." the door
demanded again.
     "I'm Coming!" Howard yelled down the hall toward the entry
way. Where the hell is Morris? Don't I pay that fool enough?
     Howard quickly grabbed a piece of toilet paper and plastered
it onto his face where he had cut himself. The toilet paper clung
wetly to the fresh wound which lay in his face. It was actually a
cut that could have used a small Band--Aid but that would have to
wait.
     "Ding Dong...Ding Dong...Ding Dong............Ding Dong.."
     After quickly grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself,
Howard made his way hastily for the front door. His stubby fingers
grasped and turned the door knob revealing "Tiffany?" he whispered
quietly to himself, almost as if in a state of shock.
     "Tiffany?" he said once more, a little louder, a little closer
to her now. No, it wasn't Tiffany, but God, there was an amazing
resemblance - so close that they could have been sisters or even
one step further, twins.
     He gazed at her for what seemed several minutes. Mouth open
wide, eyes bulging, hair dripping wet, towel wrapped around his
waist, and the damn piece of toilet paper stuck to the side of his
face.
     "No, I'm Marcie"; The distant voice said, so, so seductively.
     Howard was so awe stricken with the vision of absolute female
perfection in front of him that, he failed not only to introduce
himself, but to notice that the towel in front of his crotch began
to stand at attention, ever so ... slightly. Yep, Howee was glad
to see her.
     "I'm Marcie from CUPIDS ESCORT SERVICE . . ?"
     The voice still didn't fully reach Howard's ears. Marcie was
5'9" of pure playmate material. Long blond waist-length hair
flowed over her perfect, round and huge? yes HUGE breasts. Her face
could have been compared favorably with Kim Bassingers or Sophia
Lorens, and that dress . . . the dress, if you could call it that,
was tight and shiny white. It began midway down her shoulders and
ended just a mere three inches from the bottom of her silky smooth,
round buttocks. The dress was, as if that weren't enough already,
completely backless and the front showed enough cleavage to make
Carol Doda jealous with envy. Oh yes, Howard was very, VERY glad
to see her.
     "Can I come in?" The voice whispered. No response.
     "HELLOooooo....." There was a little bit of anger mixed in her
voice now. She felt like saying "Hello Fat Boy, stop looking at my
tits and ass, put an ice cube on pee-wee there poking his head out
at me from under your towel, and LET ME IN you FUCKING PERVERT!";
but instead she simply said, quite bluntly, but politely,
"HHEEELLLLLOOOOooooo......"
     "YES, yes, I'm Howard, glad to meet you, please come in."
     "Sorry I'm a little early. I thought perhaps we could go over
a few things about our 'marriage' before we left for your class
reunion. I just got assigned to you last night and only had a few
minutes to read over the material you sent in."
     "I'm not quite ready yet but please make yourself comfortable
in the living room. The bar is nicely stocked so help yourself. If
you need anything just give a yell over the intercom."
     Howard escorted his new 'bride' to the living room where he
quickly noticed a plate half full of nachos with cheese and hot
peppers laying on the end table. Nachos with cheese and hot peppers
was one of the reasons that he carried a spare tire around his
waist and he indulged every chance he got.
     "Thank you, thank you so much for making me feel so warm and
cozy."
     She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 2:15 in the
afternoon, and in another 45 minutes they would be taken by
limousine to the Los Angeles Executive Airport where they would
board Howard's private plane for their trip to Washington. What
Howard lacked in personality she noticed, he sure did make it up
in cold, hard cash. Not a little money, but from the looks of this
place, TONS of it.
     The Chairman of the Board of H.K. Enterprises was a very
wealthy and powerful man indeed. Howard had started a small
business at the age of twenty which manufactured, of all things,
shoe laces, and now H.K. Enterprises, seventeen years later, was
a multi-million dollar corporation. They supplied companies such
as Nike, Rebok, Addidas, and had recently landed a Government
contract to supply the entire United States Military, all branches,
with shoe laces for their combat footwear.
     Howard Kerns had made it, all right, in terms of monetary
value, but he had never married, hardly ever dated, had no life
whatsoever outside of his 'Shoe Lace Empire'. He was, after twenty
years, still that same fat kid, except now he was a RICH fat kid
with all the toys.
     His newest toy, for instance, was a fire engine red Ferrari
Testarosa in which he couldn't even safely shift the gears without
causing some sort of minor accident on the open road. So that, as
well as a few other exotic toys, was parked in the garage and
seldom saw the sunlight. No, Howard was destined to be a rich,
single idiot all of his life ... . But not tonight.
      Tonight Howard was not only going to be rich and powerful,
but he was going to have a sexy, voluptuous wife. Howard was going
to show them, once and for all, that THEY were the losers, THEY
were the nerds.
     Hurriedly he finished his personal hygiene and then proceeded
to get dressed in his new, purposely-tailored-to-look-thinner suit.
He wore a deep navy blue blazer with just the right cut at the
wrists to show off his Presidential Rolex. His white, slightly
textured shirt was cut the same way as the blazer, except for the
cuffs, which were held together by large, gold cufflinks. His pants
were a nice dark brown that covered, not only with the cut but the
color as well, a good portion of his weight. With a splash of
'Obsession for Men', and yes, that phony wedding ring in place, he
was dressed to kill. After admiring the vision he saw in the
mirror, carefully slicking ever hair in its place, 'The King'
joined Marcie in the Living Room.
     She was taking Howard up on his invitation to indulge at the
bar. Marcie was on her second scotch and water and showed no signs
of letting up. She already had a drink waiting for her 'husband'.
After all, the nicer she was to him, the better her tip.
     That's right Marcie ole gal, suck this fat pig for all he's
worth tonight. Tease him until he can't take it anymore, until he
asks that question which every woman waits all her life to hear,
those magical words.....'how much?'...at which point she would
reply, after seeing Howee's fortune....'quite a bit'. But when is
it ever enough to sleep with a fat, smelly man, have him and his
stubby fingers all over your body, to touch you, to feel you,
to ... . She didn't want to think about it any more than she had
to.
     Howard entered the living room, looking, to her surprise, not
all that bad. Overweight? yes. Ugly? kind of, but not that bad
really. Plain was a better word for it. One thing was for sure, he
sure looked a hell of a lot better now that he was dressed properly
than he did wrapped in a towel, toilet paper stuck to the side of
his face and his tallywacker poking out from between his legs.
     "I made you a drink."
       Marcie held out the glass enticingly.
      "It's a Bloody Mary."
     Howard took the glass and gazed down into the mixture of
tomato juice and vodka.
     "Bloody Mary Miller ...", he mumbled to himself.
Thump.Thump...Thump.Thump...Thump.Thump...Thump.Thump...Thump
     You remember the way it went Fat Boy. She was the only one
that you could make fun of and get away with it. Say it..SAY the
rime about Mary Miller.
     Howard stared intently into the Bloody Mary, stirring its
contents with the little umbrella that lay in it.
     BLOODY MARY MILLER,
     BLOODY AS CAN BE,
     LOOKS LIKE SHE'S GOT HER PERIOD,
     THERE'S BLOOD DOWN TO HER KNEES.
     Howard's eyes shut as he tried to shake the rhyme out of his
mind. He could remember every word of it, he could even faintly
remember the wet, salty, stinking smell that came from between
Mary's legs when she began to bleed.
     Stop it!, I WON'T say it, I WON'T!
     Slowly Howard began to count backward from ten. He had learned
it from a co-worker a long time ago and it had worked before.
ten....nine....eight....seven.....six.....five.......four.......
Thump..Thump.......Thump..Thump.......Thump..Thump......Thump...
     "Howard, are you alright?"
     CHRIST MARCIE!, She thought silently to herself, What kind of
weird shit are you getting yourself into? Look at this fruit cake.
You give him a drink and he's off in la-la land, which, had he
drank it, you could understand but this asshole hasn't even TRIED
it and he's freaking out."
     "HOWARD??!!"
     Howard reached for his pill box and popped another one in his
mouth under his tongue.
     "YES, yes, I'm fine. We should be leaving now. The traffic is
terrible this time of the afternoon. You know, pre-rush hour
traffic."
     Sweat poured from his forehead leaving little, wet salty
streaks down the sides of his face.
     "Please excuse me for a moment."
     Howard rose from the sofa and walked to the intercom mounted
in the wall near the front entrance.
     "Morris, bring the car around please. We must be going now."
     Morris quickly brought the Cadillac Limousine around the front
of the Estate where the bags were placed in the trunk and Howard
and his new 'wife' were placed in the back seat.
     "WOW Howard! This is really nice, I've never been in a
Limousine before, not like this one. Is there a bar in it?" I need
to get good and smashed to make it through this night, she told
herself, and decided not to speak the thought aloud.
     Howard pushed a few of the many assorted buttons on the
control panel located next to him, and a fully stocked mini-bar
with everything from bourbon to pretzels unfolded from the side of
the interior panels. Howard didn't need to say the magic words
"Help Yourself". He didn't need to. Marcie was grabbing a glass
before the motorized shelf had even finished unfolding itself.
     They made idle, unimportant talk on the way to the airport.
An occasional chuckle or laugh would escape Howard's throat, but
he wasn't all there right now. He was at his senior prom twenty
years ago, reliving it piece by piece. His face slowly turned
emotionless as he stared through the side window as if in a deep
trance. He tried all he could to block out the memories, to keep
the closet shut, but nothing seemed to work. He began counting
again. ten.....nine......eight.....seven....six......five.....
     It didn't work this time. Marcie's half-drunken voice was
replaced by that of his high school classmates laughing at him.
The bullies that pushed him around, the ones that called him names,
the ones that had pulled that trick on him that was so evil, so
twisted, it had emotionally scarred him for life. This scar was so
deep, so painful, so powerful, that every second of every minute
of every hour of every day it was there, in the background, waiting
to surface and make his life a living, tormented hell.
     His closet full of anxieties was opened once again. He closed
his eyes as he lay back in the seat and began to hum the theme song
from M*A*S*H, ANYTHING to keep the closet shut, but there it was
... his face covered with blood. That wet, salty, smelly blood of
Mary Millers'.
     Why are you doing this to yourself out of all days? Why
TODAY! STOP IT!, His mind yelled out, STOP this childish shit RIGHT
NOW!"
     Howard opened his eyes, wiped away the sweat pouring from his
forehead, and grabbed for a drink, anything, from the wet bar.
     "Let me get it for you Howee." Marcie giggled in a drunken
stupor. "You're too tense, you need to relax and enjoy yourself.
After all, this is your twenty year class reunion for Christ's
sake. You're a multi-millionaire, not bad looking and you've got
a great personality, so relax."
     Shovel that shit Marcie. Shovel that goddamn shit so high he
thinks you really mean all that crap you just said.
     The liquor burned all the way down his parched, dry throat.
He let out a gasp of air and his eyes began to water
uncontrollably.
     "Go Howee Go! Chug-a-lug! Loosen up a bit. I don't want my
husband to be all work and no play."
     "Maybe you're right, maybe I need to loosen up. Hand me the
scotch bottle."
     The rest of the trip to the airport was much more relaxed than
it had been previously. Howard and Marcie laughed and talked until
Morris brought the limousine to a stop next to the company plane.
     It wasn't one of those big, expensive Lear Jets, but it was
a nice aircraft all the same. Howard had designed the Twin Engine
Piper Chieftan himself. It was normally a ten-seater, but Howard
had converted it to a cozy six-seater with plenty of room for a wet
bar, microwave, television, and there was even a small sofa you
could stretch yourself out on for those long flights.
     After Howard and Marcie were helped on board the aircraft, the
luggage was stowed away, and they were on their way. The flight
from L.A. to Cassadaga would last approximately 3 hours, plenty of
time for them to rest, relax, and go over some of the details of
their marriage.
     Howard tried to focus his mind on the details of their phony
matrimony, but the liquor had its desired effect, he was getting
snockered, smashed, wasted.
     They had been married for nine years and had two beautiful
children, Kimmy, seven, and Markee, four. They enjoyed ballroom
dancing, opera, all the yuppie entertainment areas. If they got
TOO nosey, he would just shrug it off and change the subject. It
WAS a fairly good plan which Howard had laid out and it should work
just fine -- IF everything went as planned, that is.
     Howard had a dream one night of him walking into the old high
school gym with his lovely wife, everyone would be applauding and
patting him on the back for being the most successful person from
their class. He would finally, after all of these years, be
accepted by his old high school peers. What a pipe dream.
     At 6:00 in the afternoon, the plane touched down at the
Spokane Executive Airport and they were met by a Limousine which
would take then to Cassadaga, approximately two hours away.
     Once in the limousine, Marcie made her way for the wet bar,
crawling over Howard in the process. She was feeling no pain and
Howard ...  well Howard was feeling Marcie.
     Marcie lay horizontally over Howard's waist area and thrust
her ass towards his face, her skirt hiked up past her hips showing
Howard EVERYTHING she had to offer. He was a bit drunk but not so
far gone as to be blind, and, you guessed it, he was copping a
MAJOR feel alright.
     "Now Howee," Marcie sneered with that cute girlish grin and
seductive voice, "You only paid to look at the menu. If you want
to order anything off of it, you've got to pay a little extra."
     The time passed quickly as Howard and Marcie laughed, talked,
and intently discussed 'The Menu Specials'. It seemed that the
closer they got to Howard's old high school, the easier it was for
him to confront his deepest anxiety, his deepest childhood scar.
(actually it was the booze, but whatever works)
     "Howard? What happened? What was it that you fear so much
about going to your class reunion?" Marcie finally asked.
     "I don't want to talk about it."
     "SHIT! Tell me for Christs sake. I am your WIFE after all.
Now Howee, you know we shouldn't keep secrets from each other now
should we?"
     Marcie began to nibble Howard's ear. There was an apprehension
that filled the atmosphere so thick you could slice it. It seemed
that the whole world had stopped to hear the dark story of Howard
Kerns' nightmare.
     "I've never told anyone before, not family, not even my
psychiatrist."
     "Tell me Howard, Say it! Get it out of your system." Marcie
was near a rage. She didn't HAVE to know but she WANTED to know.
She also wasn't used to not having her way with anything,
especially with men.
     "Tell me Howee and you'll feel so much better."
     Marcie slipped Howard's hand between the massive mounds which
protruded from her chest so ... so invitingly. Slowly she began
to move his hand from left to right and then left again, not
actually letting his hand caress her breasts, but enough to get his
attention. Howard was thinking real hard about this latest
development, and then he hesitated, removed his hand from the
center of Marcie's chest and placed it instead on her leg which was
rubbing next to his.
     "Marcie, it's a very personal, private matter. Please don't
make me discuss it with you."
     "I'll swallow Howee..................."
Thump.Thump...Thump.Thump...ThumpThump...Thump.Thump...
     His eyes lit up so bright that his eyeballs almost fell out
of their sockets. His face had the weirdest sort of grin on it.
One of those that you see on a five-year-old boy with a large
chocolate sundae, half in the dish and half on his face. Howard
had this very look right now, only the chocolate sundae on his face
was replaced by a strand of drool that went from his bottom lip to
a mid-air-dangle a few inches under his chin.
     "For FREE." she added with a teasing wink in her eye.
     Howard explained how he had been feeling a little less of an
outcast that night of his senior prom. His date had been a cousin
no one knew. Tiffany, his high school idol, had even said hello to
him that night and complimented him on how nice he looked. That
was, Howard thought, one of the greatest moments of his entire
life. He actually felt like he was almost a normal person. She
said hello to ME! She said how nice I looked. She LIKES ME! He
couldn't believe it. That fifty pound weight that he lugged around
on his shoulders, that dark cloud that seemed to always float over
his head, all of it was gone. Swept away by such a simple thing as
a nice hello and compliment by none other than the one girl he had
a heart-ripping crush on. Howard for once in his life, felt alive.
He felt popular. This new-found emotion lasted about as long as a
fart in a whirlwind.
     It was actually Matt Collins, The King of the senior prom's
idea. He had encouraged Tiffany Wilson, The Queen, to go along with
the joke, and he even convinced most of the ENTIRE senior class to
go along with him.
     Tiffany was given the task of abducting a pair of Mary
Millers' bloody underwear. At first she felt ashamed of being a
part of such a wicked, evil plan but given the choice of being
humane or popular, she snatched the panties.
     Matt Collins, the mastermind of this grotesque scheme, did the
'dirty work'. At the beginning of the prom, individual pictures
were taken of the couples for the yearbook. When it was Howard's
turn, Tiffany had helped him with his hair and even straightened
his bow tie and shirt collar for him. After all, this was going to
be a picture to remember forever in the yearbook. She wanted Howard
to look his very best for this special occasion.
     Howard was on cloud nine.
     He was IT.
     He was momentarily numero uno.
     He was about to be scarred emotionally for life.
     Howard was seated in one of the two big, white wicker chairs
that were placed among the various pots of plants and flowers. His
cousin was seated next to him and the photographer made his usual
primping of the couple before the picture was taken. The whole
senior class was looking on as the photographer yelled "SMILE ON
THREE NOW!"
     "1.........2..........3"
     It seemed as if even the photographer was part of the cruel
plot, waiting for Matt Collins to thrust Bloody Mary Miller's
underwear over Howard's head, smearing partly dried blood on his
face before the picture was snapped. At first he thought he was
hallucinating, but soon realized that the laughs were for real.
This was really happening, to him.
     "CLICK"
     Howard had somehow managed to hear that distant CLICK of the
photographer's camera over the roar and laughter of his classmates.
When Howard finally removed Bloody Mary Miller's underwear from
his head, he was greeted by dozens of camera flashes. It seemed
that everyone had brought their own camera to savor the moment.
Even the photographer seemed to snap a few extra shots of this
"KODAK MOMENT". As if this wasn't enough already, when Howard stood
from the chair, tears flowing from his bloody face, Matt had made
up a special rhyme for this special occasion.
BLOODY PORKY KERNS
BLOODY AS CAN BE
HE'S BEEN SNIFFING MARY MILLER'S CROTCH
THERE'S BLOOD ALL OVER HIS CHEEKS.
     Howard's life was over. He was humiliated beyond
comprehension. The only way he could escape an inevitable anxiety
attack was to create a closet in his mind, his closet full of
anxieties. It was here that Howard had locked that unthinkable,
hideous episode of his childhood away forever, or so he thought.
     Marcie sat back in her seat, her knees doubled up under her.
She was doing all she could to keep from laughing out loud and
this, in turn, brought tears to her eyes. She had never heard
anything so funny in her life. Quickly she composed herself and
lovingly threw her arms around him and kissed him lightly on the
forehead.
     "I'm so, so sorry Howard. I could have never imagined
something so horrible in all my life."
     The remainder of the ride was spent in total silence except
for the occasional drink Marcie would make at the nearly exhausted
wet bar. The limousine arrived at exactly 8:00 p.m. at the high
school. Howard stared at the old brick building with a sort of
eerie face. He had held all of his fear and hatred and humiliation
in for so long. Twenty long years. It was ironic that just now, on
the way to his class reunion, he had finally confronted his past.
He chuckled at himself as he noticed the people staring and
pointing at the limousine as it came to a complete stop.
     The first thing Matt Collins noticed when the driver opened
up the back door was legs -- nice legs at that. They reminded him
of a woman he once loved, once cherished. Those nice, tan, smooth
legs and what? Those can't be real,...They're HUGE!!! Then it hit
him like a ton of bricks, it was Marcie, his long lost love.
     There Howard stood at the bottom of the steps which led to
the front doors of the high school. Howard remembered how he used
to dread this moment every day during his youth. The old, two-
story brick building was laced with various barred windows giving
it the look more of a prison than that of a school. Funny how
twenty years ago it seemed like more of a prison than that of a
school as well.
     Now, as Howard stood at the base of the stairs after all of
these years, he realized that it wasn't the appearance of the old
building, not the damp, dusty smell of it, it wasn't anything that
dealt with the school at all that he had hated. It was Matt
Collins, the know-it-all of the school, the most popular boy, the
biggest bully, the most athletic boy  - that was what Howard hated.
Matt Collins had in a sense stolen some of the best years in his
life away from him and he could never, ever forgive him for that
cold fact of life. If a person could truly hate another as to wish
death upon him and truly mean it, Howard honestly hated Matt.
     Seeing Matt walk down the stairs toward him at this moment
brought two things to his mind: Fear of what he would do, and
hatred that he had done whatever it was that he was going to do.
     Most of the senior class looked on as Matt approached Howard
at the base of the stairs. Howard wanted to run, to hide, and he
almost did, but something inside of him kept him from it.
     Twenty years of pain.
     Twenty years of anger were now condensed into this one day.
     It could be capped no longer. If it didn't come out now,
he felt as if his whole body would explode. Howard found that his
hands had balled themselves up into two tightly configured knots
of steel, ready to strike out at whatever crossed him. Those two
fists held inside the twenty years of torment and he pitied the
fool who dared to see what they could do at this moment.
     Closer and closer, each step seemed an eternity, each beat of
his heart slowing time down, each breath strengthening his anger.
This was indeed the moment Howard 'FAT BOY' Kerns would avenge his
past.
     But the look in Matt's eyes wasn't full of hatred and anger,
in fact they weren't even looking at him at all. His eyes were
looking somewhere else, somewhere distant. He was staring at his
'wife,' and he noticed after all this time, Marcie was doing the
same.
     "Marcie? Marcie Childress?" Matt's voice echoed.
     And then, after those magical words, what followed was
something like that out of an old romance novel. Marcie and Matt
rushed towards each other with their arms spread wide, eyes locked
together in the flames of love. The wind gently blew their hair
back into the breeze in slow motion, giving the scene an ambiance
of passion. As their arms met together, Matt took Marcie in his
strong arms, twirling her once in a magical circle, and then they
embraced in a kiss so hot, so steamy, you had to be insane not to
feel the moment with them.
     Howard must have been insane, or at least temporarily insane,
because he felt nothing but a dull, throbbing ache where his heart
used to be. The closet full of anxieties wasn't a closet any
longer. A closet was much to small too hold this new addition of
pain and horror. Howard had an entire room devoted to his
anxieties now. A BIG room at that.
     Tiffany Wilson was standing on the stairs watching Matt and
Marcie, when she noticed Howard. She saw a once overweight, picked
on, school dunce of over twenty years ago looking much the same as
he did back then, except now she saw Howard Kerns in a different
light. Now she saw a lonely, fragile man in a very vulnerable
state, a man that needed to be held and loved. She stared at him
and the passion that she felt from Matt and Marcie was replaced by
an ugly, horrible black ooze that flowed over her soul as she
looked at Howard. Slowly she walked down the stairs toward Howard,
each step adding guilt and shame to her conscious. When she looked
into his eyes for the first time in twenty years, she didn't see
the 'FAT BOY'. No, what she saw was a very attractive, successful,
professional man. When she finally reached the bottom of the
stairs, they stared at each other for a brief second that seemed
to last an eternity.
     "Howard? Remember me? I'm Tiffany Wilson."
     She hadn't changed a bit. God Howard, she is still just as
beautiful as she used to be, so pure, so lovely, and so.......
     He glanced quickly at her left hand and it showed no sign of
a ring.
     ... so single.
     "Hello Tiffany," he greeted her after a long, tense pause, not
saying anything else. Just leaving her hanging there, dangling in
mid air. He tried to think of something to say, couldn't find the
words. Tiffany found a few instead.
     "You look very nice Howard." O.K., its HIS turn now.
     "Thank you."
     It was a simple reply, but that was all she deserved. He
remembered the last time Tiffany had talked to him and he ended up
with some girl's dirty panties over his head. He wasn't about to
let THAT happen again. Yet at the same time he noticed that
Tiffany looked at him much different now than she did at the senior
prom. She looked embarrassed.
     Tiffany smiled once more and reached out and touched him
gently on his shoulder, then turned to walk away. She wanted to
say how very, very sorry she was but couldn't bring herself to
speak the words. No, she would have to live with the guilt all her
life.
     It was Howard's turn to do the talking and he was grabbing for
something, ANYTHING to say.
     "Tiffany!? You look very nice as well."
     Slowly she turned around and confronted Howard Kerns, not the
boy, but the man.
     "I've never been really good with words before so please just
listen to what I have to say."
     Her lips began to tremble and her eyes turned slightly red and
watery with tears.
     "I'm sorry for what they did to you, for what I did to you.
Please forgive me. I know that I don't deserve to be forgiven, but
please try to."
     Tears flowed down her face from her swollen eyes and down to
the grass below. Howard quickly reached for his handkerchief, (not
noticing that his heart pills came out with it and lay hidden in
the grass), and gave it to Tiffany.
     "It's O.K. We were kids back then and I understand. I forgive
you Tiffany, I really do."
     Tiffany embraced Howard affectionately and kissed him lightly
on the cheek. His face turned a bright red and his ears began to
burn. If this was a dream, Howard didn't want to waken.
     As if some magical spell had been cast down at Howard that
night, some mysterious wonderful spell, Howard's curse had been
lifted. As the others saw Tiffany and Howard embracing, a sudden
shift of feeling which had once been for Matt and Marcie, was now
directed towards Howard and Tiffany. As they walked up the stairs
toward the school, arm in arm, each and every one of his old
classmates hugged or shook his hand, apologizing for what they had
done to him in the past.
     He was IT, THE MAN, Numero Uno, Head Honcho.
     Howard Kerns felt like he was on top of the world. As they
all gathered around him in the gymnasium, he began to tell them
about his life from graduation day to the point where he was now.
He explained how he had moved to Los Angeles with little or no
money, lived on food stamps and stayed with one other person in a
studio apartment in the southeast projects, working in a shoe
factory, lacing shoes. Then it hit him ... shoe strings. He
saved for two long years, working weekends, overtime, anything,
trying to save enough money for a small warehouse in which he
envisioned his dream of success and fortune. He started with three
people making shoestrings and one of those three people included
himself. Eventually after a long, slow five years, H.K.
Enterprises landed a well know company called Nike and soon
others such as Rebok and L.A. Gear followed. In fifteen years
Howard Kerns net worth was twenty-five million dollars. The little
warehouse he once leased out was torn down, and replaced with a
state-of-the-art thirty thousand square foot manufacturing plant
with fifty full-time employees. Since then, his plant had expanded,
he said, and his net worth "was a hell of a lot!" Howard explained
that he had never gotten married, for that matter hardly ever
dated. His explanation for this was the incident at the senior prom
twenty years ago, how it had stuck in his mind, haunting him day
after day. He admitted that he had a crush on Tiffany and when he
realized that she had played a part in the cruel joke, he withdrew
into himself emotionally and had put all of his time, all of his
effort, everything he had into his work. It had paid off though.
He was a very wealthy individual, but he was without love.
Throwing a glance at Tiffany, he admitted that he STILL had a crush
on her.
     Tiffany's face blushed in embarrassment as Howard spoke those
words that she, strangely enough, longed to hear. She gently
kissed him on the lips this time and hugged him around the neck.
The crowd went wild with applause and cheers. It was a perfect
moment, then, as if in a dream, 'Unchained Melody' by the Righteous
Brothers began to play softly in the background.
     "Would you like to dance Tiffany?"
     "I'd love to Howard."
     Howard and Tiffany danced like no other couple in the world
had ever danced before. It was like a fairy tale, no it WAS a
fairy tale. The two people danced alone center stage as everyone
looked on. The entire gym went totally dark, except for a
spotlight which shone upon Howard Kerns and his new bride-to- be,
Tiffany Wilson. Howard was in another world, far, far away
from the one he used to live in. His life had turned a full circle
for the better. He had money, a gorgeous wife (almost) and the
love and admiration of others around him. Then, typically enough,
the moment was replaced buy a stomach cramp. Elegantly he excused
himself as he made a dash for the restroom.
     All this excitement, all this commotion around him made his
system fully aware that those Nachos with cheese and hot peppers
wanted out...RIGHT NOW. As he stood in front of the mirror in the
boy's restroom, his face was dripping with sweat. The exit scene
for the nachos was summed up with a coin toss ... Heads or Tails.
His butt said Tails, but before he made a dash for the toilet, he
noticed blood all over the side of his face.
Thump.Thump..Thump.Thump..Thump.Thump..Thump.Thump..Thump
     "It's Bloody Mary Miller's Blood! Can't wait...gotta go
NOW!!!!!"
     His heart began pounding faster than it ever had. Confusion
struck, but there was no time for any rational thinking. The
instant his pants hit the floor his butt exploded with such a
force, he could have sworn it lifted him off the toilet seat a
couple of inches. It was a nasty, smelly mess which, he was sure,
was completely covering his entire ass, but not to worry, there was
toilet paper..........correction, there was NO FUCKING TOILET
PAPER..................
ThumpThump.ThumpThump.ThumpThump.ThumpThump.ThumpThump.Thump..
     His heart increased its rhythm a few beats more per minute
than it was already.
     "God not now! Don't let them find you like this! With nacho
shit all around you and....and.....and Bloody Mary Miller's Blood
on your face."
     When the first wave of 'the burnies' from the hot peppers hit
his asshole, not only did his heart almost explode but his face was
dripping with sweat and his eyes were aflame from the salt mixture.
He used his coat sleeve to wipe away the sweat, NO!..It was too
late, he had smeared blood onto the sleeve of his Navy Blue Blazer.
Thumppump..thumpTHump..Umpthump..thUMP..UmpthumP...pm..Ump..Tmp...
     His first REAL chest pain hit with a violent twist of his
entire heart. It felt as if his left side went momentarily numb.
     "Heart pill, gotta get heart pill."
     He clumsily reached his hand into his blazer pocket to find
... nothing. The pill box wasn't there. His heart beat increased.
THumpump.Thump.umppumpthu..Thump.Ump.THUMPthump.Ump.
     Then his second chest pain hit him with all the ferocity of
a freight train hitting a Volkswagen Bug stuck on the railroad
tracks.
     SMASH!
THUTHUMPumpTHump..PUMPTHUmPTHUPMTHU.P.THUMPTHUMPUMPumPT
     Howard's body was launched backwards in such an awkward
position that one hand was clutched on his chest and the other hand
accidentally hit the lever to flush the toilet. Big mistake.
WHOOOOOSSSHHHHH.......gurgle..gurgle..gurgle.....BURP.
     The toilet began to overflow immediately sending "NACHOS-A-LA-
HOWARD" all over the bathroom floor, and, more importantly, all
over Howard's lower body.
thump.........THUM.....MP........Pump...........Thu..
     Then the final Blow, the final incident that caused Howard's
death was the second wave of 'The Burnies.' He never really felt
the third chest pain and its probably best that he didn't. The
pain was replaced by a tightness in his lungs and a grey,
cloudiness which covered his eyes. He tried to breathe, but
there was no air to be found. It was all to much for Fat Boy to
handle. He tumbled sideways off of the commode, his head striking
the surface of the crap covered floor with a sickening crack of his
neck and a muffled splash as the rest of his body followed.
thump..hump..........mp..................................ump.....
............................................... .  .    .    .
.     The last thing he ever saw was the crap covered floor of his
high school's bathroom.
                                   THE END