melted

kevin and the irony boards

smash! (he goes flying and there's stars in his head and he is a star and he's passed through insane and it's more than the cartoons tell you boomerang has nothing on an ironing board pretending to hit you in the face he falls over and then there she is with her fidgety digits and finicky thinking all over him all over again with that notebook that he keeps in a drawer by the door when he's bored or unsure he'll write more things in there and remind himself he's strong he's stronger he's strongest but the last one isn't quite right and neither is he in a concussive state with an ironing board next door maybe if he says hello he'll have a neighbor but hell he'll survive otherwise he's fine which he says to the girl with the snippety hickory coloured hair persnicketing around like a cop on break tossing parking tickets out the window as he chews on the air in his doughnut donut hole holding his breath he says hello to no response and that's normal so he jots it down with its own special slot in the normal category of the form in his notebook that he keeps in a drawer by the door which slams closed after five minutes of expositional dialog in which he learns that the girl with the pity flipping flippity wishy-washy wishing way of whizzing about is supposed to be his love interest because every love story has one so he kisses a patch of human that patches the invisible punctures from the floor as he fell from the ironing board scored a home run across his forehead and his sight goes flippity floppity as snow drip drops down during his deep development device that they called a monologue in the script even though it's more of a captain's log from a ship or a diary entry written on her lips which fog up his rose coloured goggles as he gobbles up all the information and stuffs it into his throat while she stands there agog at his obvious lob into her side of the court and when she backpedals through eleven feet of heaven's dreams shot down by a man and his bulletproof cannon shot by a man and his not-so-bulletproof canon camera capturing a candid for the newspaper that glorifies glory on the park bench made special by the kids half-asleep stage left the stage is the only thing left as they file out filing the night and its bright light in distant distance where dissonance reigns and his amends are reiterated with a raised eyebrow to raise the stakes higher now the steak tastes great on the paper plate he didn't pay for and the seat that seats him beats him at checkers and he checks himself to find that he's scattered all over the place from a fall in the autumn that could have been the leaves or the day they left)