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By Misti Lake Submitted by Misti Date: 2001 Aug 06 Comment on this Work [[2001.08.06.12.36.23376]] |
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Once there was a sixteen year old girl named Florida and a nineteen year old boy named Fiji. They lived in a small town on the Gulf Coast called Coral City. Florida lived in a shoddy trailer house with her mom (a cocktail waitress), her mom's boyfriend (a retired Hell's Angel named Blade) and her Siamese twin brothers, Bo and Charlie. To ease her pain, Florida smoked a lot of pot and drank a lot of Jack Daniels mixed with Dr. Pepper. She listened to her dad's old albums on his old stereo. He got ran over by a drunk schoolbus driver when Florida was two. Fiji lived in a motel room. He ran away from home when he was thirteen. His parents were rich and cold. They lived in Connecticut. They were into S&M and all-you-can-eat buffets. Florida and Fiji met each other in a laundromat on a hot Saturday afternoon in July. Fiji was playing Ms. Pacman. Florida was washing a load of cold delicates. "You're cute," Fiji said to Florida as he walked past her on his way to get a Mountain Dew from the vending machine in the corner. "Huh?" Florida looked up from her Rolling Stone magazine with bleary eyes. "I said,'you're cute'," Fiji called over his shoulder. Fiji sat down beside Florida with his can of Mountain Dew. Florida eyed Fiji with suspicion. "Why would you say that?" "Because I like the way you look. I like your long, limp hair. I like your sleepy green eyes. I'm not hitting on you. I am not hitting on you. Not at all. So what's your name?" "Florida. Like the state. What's your name?" "Fiji. Like the film." "You were named after film?" "It's a joke. Actually, I was named after an island in the South Pacific. Hey...wanna go for a swim?" "Tonight. Yes. When the stars are out." That night, Fiji rode up to Florida's house on his Indian motorcycle. Bo and Charlie answered the door. Bo was eating a Slim Jim. Charlie was eating Tums. "You must be Figi," Charlie said with a grin. "Yes, I am. You must be Florida's little brothers." "Yep. She's getting ready," Bo said. "Hey, come on in," Blade called from the recliner. He was drinking a bottle of Lone Star beer and watching the Playboy Channel. Fiji entered the green trailer house with trepidation. Green light bulbs burned in all the lamps and light fixtures. The carpet was green shag, littered with cigarette butts. Green ceramic frogs decorated the bar and coffee table. "Sit down and tell me all about yourself, man," Blade said with a yawn. "Not much to tell. My name is Fiji. I'm from Connecticut, originally. I work at the plant." "A transplanted Yankee, huh? Yeah, I hear it in your voice. I'm a crazy Californian. Once a Californian, always a Californian. It's in my blood, man. Hey, you want a beer?" "No, thanks." Fiji sat down on a battered green sofa. Bo and Charlie sat down beside him and focused on the display of tawny flesh on the Playboy Channel. Florida appeared in a black bikini. Fiji smiled in appreciation. "Almost as pretty as your mama," Blade said with a whistle. "Let's get the hell outta here," Florida muttered as her face reddened. "Yeah, let's go. Later, dudes. Bye, man," Fiji said to Bo and Charlie and Blade with a wave of his hand. At the beach, Fiji sat down and looked up at the stars, hoping Florida would plop down on his lap. Instead, Florida took off for the water. Fiji watched her splash around, wondering if he should join her. He couldn't swim. Suddenly, Florida began to scream. Fiji jumped to his feet. "Florida! What is it?" "It got me! I'm going under!" It was a Great White. In a few minutes, there was an eery silence. Fiji sighed and got on his bike. |