Night in the Ruts

My Boyfriend - Charlie

I didn't want to shower.  I smelled like The Walrus still.  And he smelled really, really good.

        I put on my sweatpants, and out of the pocket of my pants fell a piece of paper.  I picked it up.  Because I'm friends with Nicky, I know that it's a rolling paper.  Why would that be in my pocket?

        On the paper was a number.  A phone number.  Under the phone number was the name The Walrus with the immensely cheesy xx.  No o's, just x's.  What?

        I placed the paper on my nightstand, ignoring it for the time being.  I sat on my bed, just sniffing my hair.  How weird and creepy is that?  I don't even know his real name and I'm relishing in his scent.

        But you know what?  Yesterday and today were weird days.  That doesn't normally happen at concerts.  Jess must've just been extra drunk.

        Speaking of Jess...

        "Hey, Charlie," Jess mutters, tapping on my partially opened door.

        "Yeah," I say, allowing her to enter.  I'm surprised she even knocked.  I was playing my favorite 45 at the moment.  There was this band in the sixties called the Chain Reaction.  I love them for some reason.  They sound so familiar, though I can't place where I've heard them.  The only thing that comes to mind is the Beatles because of one of the Chain Reaction songs–it sounds like a Beatles tune.

        Jess sits down on my desk chair.  She looks at me and scoffs.  "Oh my God, are you seriously sniffing your hair?"

        I scowl.  "Yeah.  It smells good."

        "Whatever."

        "I'm serious!"  I offer a strand of my hair to my sister.  She comes over and smells it, curiosity getting the best of her.

        "Okay... You're kind of right," Jess said with a grin.  Then she spots the phone number.  She picks it up before I'm able to grab it.  "What's this?!"

        "A piece of paper," I mutter, knowing perfectly well she wasn't the least bit alarmed that it was a paper for smoking.

      "Yeah, with a phone number!  Does a boy want you to call him?  Oh my God, Charlie!  Call him–who the f– heck is 'The Walrus'?"  My sister wants us to think that she doesn't say swear words.  I try to get my family to think that too.  So far I've done great.  "Call it, Charlie!  You have to!  Is he cute?  Where'd you meet him?  How old?  C'mon!  We'll call him right now!"

        She tugs on my arm but I sit still.  "No," I say.  "He's probably getting ready for a show."  I glance at the clock.  And then I grin, answering the rest of her questions.  "I met him last night.  He's immensely cute... But, I dunno how old he is."

        "We'll call him later, then, yes?" she asks hopefully.

        "No."

       "Yes, Charlie!  After dinner... Later tonight.  Promise me!  You have to!" Jess exclaims.  "He wants to talk to you!  Obviously he likes you, then!"

        "Hardly," I mutter.

        "Whatever," Jess says with a scowl.  "Just take your shower."

--

So I took the shower.  And it was peaceful and mind-clearing.  And afterwards, I called Nicky.

        "H-Hullo?" he stuttered groggily.  It was five o'clock; was he sleeping?

      Nicholas Vicky (yeah, yeah, Nicky Vicky).  I haven't dialed this number in a long time.  Now, Nicky is one of my best friends, but we don't hang out much outside of school.  But in school, we're inseparable (along with his other friends, who are all rather... Interesting).  "Nicky!" I exclaimed loudly.  He winced.  "Sorry," I whisper.  "What're you doing?"