This is Florida Sinkholes, Part 3/3
Jeremy and Ashley’s lips sucked and locked and broke and sought again. Somehow they managed to totter down the hallway, only bumping into the wall half a dozen times, and just narrowly missing the prize-winning begonia Mrs. Jay had won at the Tri-County Arboretum contest two years before…
Hey, listen. I finished writing this story a few hours ago and I even loaded it up onto Amazon already. Yeah, it’s a real book now, and you can buy it.
It’s called Florida Sinkholes and it’s just $0.99. So I don’t want any damn excuses that you can’t afford it, because I know you wasted a dollar on one of the following things in the past 24 to 48 hours:
- A cheap food item at a convenience store that you later wished you wouldn’t have bought;
- A tip on the bar of the place that contributed to the headache you’re now suffering through;
- Some stupid game on Facebook;
- An Amazon book that one of your friends has been pestering you about but which you never really wanted to buy and just now remembered to delete.
So if you’re going to spend $1 on one of those things then I think it’s only fair you spend $0.99 on this 8,500 word short novella that’s as dry as hell and pretty damn grisly to boot.
All right, I’m done, back to the damn story!
“Whose room is this?”
“It’s just a spare room.”
Ashley scanned the room with her eyes. The bed was neatly made, the bureau was orderly, and the pictures all straight on the wall, the Jay family staring back at them in smiling acceptance. A large collection of miniature porcelain animal figures stared out at them from a glass display case set into one corner. Ashley turned back to Jeremy, her arms crossed over her chest.
“You sure?” she asked, her jaw moving to the side in a look of doubt.
Ashley held her gaze on Jeremy for a moment more, but in the end his dimples won out.
“Alright!” she said, lunging at him once again. Their lips were locked again, and a moment later they were atop the bed.
Chapter 12/15 – Ricky Jay’s Bong
Downstairs the party was raging, and the alcohol was taking effect.
“You can’t smoke that much!”
“Wanna fucking bet!”
Connor Stevenson took a step back and crossed his arms. He frowned down at Stoner Carl and bit his lip.
“If you don’t wanna put your money where your mouth is that’s fine!” Stoner Carl laughed, and several of his stoner buddies around the table joined in.
“I never said that, it’s just–”
“It’s just what?” Ricky Jay said, the man of the house, at least until his father Ronald Jay got back into town on Sunday night. “You don’t think I can do it?”
“I didn’t say that…”
“Yeah, actually you did, Connor!” one of Connor’s drunken friends shouted out.
“Shut the fuck up, John!” Connor sneered, raising the back of his hand up enough for John to stumble backward with a frightened look on his face.
“Aw…fuck it!” Ricky Jay suddenly said. He got up from the table and dug into the pocket of his ratty hoodie. “I don’t need no one payin’ me to smoke!”
He pulled out a small, plastic bag and let it roll open. Massive marijuana buds could be seen bulging within.
“Bring me the Annihilator!” he said with a smile.
“Alright!” several of the nearby partygoers shouted as Stoner Carl and several of the other fazed-looking young men got up from the table. They disappeared into a back room and reappeared a few moments later.
“Fucking-A!” several of the drinkers at the party shouted out. They’d never seen a six-foot glass bong before.
Ricky Jay stepped up to the bong and gave it a good once-over. He was a washed-up stoner repeating his senior year, but having a fun time doing it. His unwashed hair was long and matted. He’d been trying to grow it into blonde dreads for months now, but hadn’t had much success. So it was covered by a Jamaican hat which he adjusted as he turned back to the crowded room.
“Shit,” he drawled, “this ain’t nothin’!”
He scoffed again and climbed up on the couch.
“Ri-cky Jay! Ri-cky Jay!” the crowd of assembled teenagers began to chant.
Ricky Jay grabbed the Annihilator with both hands, put his mouth on the top, then nodded. Below him Carl the Stoner did the honors and lit the bowl. The pot crackled to life, and the chanting grew louder as the smoke Ricky Jay was sucking up the tube clearly became visible.
“Ri-cky Jay! Ri-cky Jay!”
The smoke touched Ricky Jay’s lips, but he kept his eye locked on the bowl. Stoner Carl finally let the lighter go out and he stepped back. The chanting grew louder as Ricky Jay started to suck up the pot smoke.
Buy Florida Sinkholes on Amazon today! If enough of you do so, it might even get on the charts. Ha, what will all those successful authors think of that, eh!