Feeling George W. Bush

Touching Bush (NSFW)

I step into the Drugstore. Cheesey music fills the air as I stump the snow off my boots. Warm air washes over me like a wave. An employee stands sleepily behind the counter, hunchbacked. I pick up a red basket with fading white letters and head into the empty aisles. I walked to the near by drugstore, to pick up some junk food. I just need to wash away the pain I've been feeling. Tears fill my eyes as I stand in front of the Cheetos. I can't decide whether I want flaming hot or regular. It's too much of a decision. I wipe my face with the back of my gloved hand and shove both into the basket. I'm glad nobody else seems to be in the store. If I breakdown, I don't want anyone to notice. I slowly walk down to the freezers as What is love Booms over the speakers. I grab the silver handle and pull open the door. Cold air rushes up and licks the sides of my face and my red nose. I skim the rows of ice cream for my favorite kind, Chocolate Therapy. It's the only thing that can mend my open scars. I find the pints a crane my arm around it and pull forward three pints. I walk down more of the aisle. Unexpectedly I slip into the hair care products lane. I think for a second, trying to figure out if I need shampoo. I stand looking down at the different smelling shampoos. At the end of the aisle, a hooded figure slinks in. I make nothing of it, of course. I pick up the coconut shampoo and flip open the lid. It seems nice. I close it and place it next to the Ice cream. "Excuse me..." An elegant southern voice springs out, hollowing me inside. I whip my head around to look at where the voice originated. It's the hooded figure. "yes..." I creak out. "Excuse me, ah sir... Do you think" The southern prince chuckles a bit.I lean in closer as they pull a bottle off the shelf to the side of them. " Do-do you think this will make me slippery smooth?" I look at a bottle the figure is holding out in front of me. They're just a few feet away now, and I step closer. I have terrible eyesight, even when I'm wearing my glasses. A liver-spotted hand wraps around a bottle of hair remover. I take it off my glove and grab the bottle from them to get a closer look. They let go of it lightly, slowly crumbling as it leaves their hand. I flick the bottle in my hands, and think for a moment. "I believe so." I lisp out."Thank-thank you." They reach out to grab the bottle from my hand. Our hands collide an adrenaline fills my lonely body as his hand slips over mine. We make eye contact as his hand rest on mine over the bottle. blue paint fondles his fingers. This was the first time I got a glimpse of their face. It's slightly wrinkle and splotched. His blue eyes are like lasers , making it impossible to look away. A small smile spreads under his nose as we stand there. Another glob of paint sits right next to his left eye, like a evergreen beauty mark. Something about their long face is familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. He's obviously a he."Thank you." He whispers out, still looking in my eyes. We stand a little while longer until he pulls away and walks down the aisle, slowly, like he doesn't really want to leave. I watch as he almost slips out of the aisle. Before he can go, I gush out "wait!" Without even thinking, I run-walk to him, letting my basket hit the ground. When I'm only a few steps away from him, I look into those same sparkling blue eyes as I place my arm lightly on his. "what's...Your...name?" He glances down at the bottle and tries pulls his arm from mine. I cling tighter, I don't want him to leave me, not like this, not if it means I have to be alone again. "George." He sputters out, looking back up into my eyes, as if he's trying to see my soul. "George what?" My words stain the air as he doesn't answer. "I need to go..." He tries to pull away again, as if his last name is something to keep secret. I cling tighter to his black hoodie. I stare daggers into him, hoping they'll cut him, and he'll spill his last name. He pulls one more time, trying to break free from my grasp. Again, he fails. Suddenly, George flings around, throwing the bottle into the aisle. I was so busy watching the bottle slide across the linoleum tiles I didn't realize George moved in. Now, he was only two tic-tacs away from my face. "Look," He whispers, with a crazy look in his eyes. Sweat drips down the side of my face, I never meant for this to happen. Sometimes I try so hard to be cute, I end up making people annoyed with how sugoi sugoi I am. "I'm only going to tell you because..." He stops and places his hands on my shoulders. "I like...you..." Blood rushes my cheeks. I try and hide my face from him, so he can't see what I'm doing, what he's doing to me , but he's gripping me so fiercely. I look down at his hoodie strings that are hanging gently on my chest. It felt like hours before he opened his mouth again. "Bush.." He pushes out, like it's made of broken glass. I hang in his arms as the words stain my insides. I feel wet, as I look up into the crystal pools he calls eyes. I push my head into his chest, making him wrap his arms around me. We're suspended in the moment, and I don't want it to end. I float above reality, as I play what just happened over in my mind. I'm hugging George Bush, Fucking GEORGE W. MOTHERFUCKIN BUSH! He breaks the silence."Would, you like to help me reach my goal?" I glance up at him, His chapped mouth hangs right next to mine as I search my brain trying to think of a reply through the haze of wanting to lip lock with him."What's the goal, Wait... no I don't care-yes I'll help."He chuckles at me as he pushes my head playful back into his chest. I breathe in every inch of the former president's scent, it's of sausage mixed with chanel no. 5 and acrylic paint. It smells wonderful.