The Cabin

Because I am focusing my blogging genius (such that it is) on the super secret blogging project with this chick, PDDC here is being a bit neglected. Yesterday’s word doodle was pretty crappy.  And I have nothing better to offer you today.

What you do get is something I found in the draft folder.  I must have written it a couple years ago, but I have no recollection of doing so.

And the stuff in italics was something I wrote at the time too.  “My storytelling style”? What a dink.

Enjoy.  (Ha!)

Messing around with my storytelling style a bit here. Wanted to tell it all from one point of view. I am not digging how it turned out. But, as with everything else here, this is very much a first draft.


Well, that’s that, I guess.

She’s gone.

Three years, man.


Thankfully it was fairly amicable. I’d hate to have any negativity here in my cabin.

I hope she has a safe drive home.

Three years.

I’m hungry.

I suppose, after a respectful mourning period, I can ask out that woman who works in the office next to me.

Ehh… Later.

I think I’ll watch my ROUNDERS dvd.

*knock knock*

Who the–?

“Oh, hi. I thought you were gone back to the city.”

“My car won’t start. And it is getting blizzardy out there,” she replies.

“I guess you can stay over night. We’ll figure it out in the morning?”

“Thanks,” she says. “I hate to be a pain, now that you finally got your castle of loneliness back.”

“It’s a fortress of solitude and — Nevermind. Give me your bags.”

I didn’t see this coming. But, we are adults. We are friends. This doesn’t have to be weird.

“This is totally going to be weird,” she blurts.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

Hmmm. Awkward silence.

“Are you tired?” I ask.

“I really am.”

“Well, I’ll take the couch, you can have my bed.” I offer.

“No. It’s your cabin. I’ll take the couch and –”

“Okay, let’s face it… the couch is a piece of crap. It should have come with it’s own chiropractor.”

“We can share a bed as friends,” she says.

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Okay then.”

Am I really picking up her bags and leading her into my bedroom? Yes, yes I am.

So much for the “yanking the bandaid off” break-up.

“I’ll turn my back, so you can get changed and get in bed.”

Please don’t let it be that lacy black number!

“Okay, I’m done,” she says.

I’ve never been so aware that I am undressing.

Okay. I am now under the covers.

“You know, if this was a sitcom we’d have to draw a line down the middle of the bed, or agree to sleep with one foot on the floor,” I say.

“If this was a sitcom, there would have been a laughtrack when you took your pants off,” she giggles.

Okay, that was cute.

“I remember why we broke up,” I say.

“Good night,” she says.

“Good night.”

I’ve never been more awake in my life. I could operate heavy machinery… you know, at least as well as I can normally.

Why have I seen a million cobwebs, but never a cob?

“Hey,” she whispers. “Are you asleep?”

“Not even a little.”

“I need my goodnight kiss before I can sleep next to you,” she whispers.

Why is she whispering?


I roll over and give her a little kiss on her lips.

She kisses back.

I kiss some more.

This is such a bad idea.

Though that’s a tough argument to make with someone’s tongue in your mouth.

Why is my hand wandering…?

Crap! It is the lacy black number.

I should totally take it off of her. What do you know… she’s helping me do just that.

She just moaned…

I am in so much trouble.

I am having a Pavlovian Horndog reaction.

To be continued…

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