Hall & Oates [NaNoWriMo Fail]

Abandoned Luncheonette

prompt 1: in which a character gets food poisoning

Hall/ Four Years Before

It all started with Noelle Pierce.

Well, technically, it all started with an elevator at the mall.

Actually, it technically technically started when my mom and dad met at some speaker thumping, ass grinding club and got it on in my dad's Acura. My mom (the coin collecting, churchgoing, registered nurse) bumped uglies with a stranger in the backseat of a used sedan. Then, after nine months I tap danced out of my mom's uterus and my dad tap danced out of the picture. My mom always described him as some tall brooding dude with great dance moves and hilarious jokes; I only met him once, so I don't really remember (or know) if it's true or not. I do remember that my mom introduced us and instead of speaking to me, he asked Mom if he could borrow some money. Then my mom was pregnant with my little sister and neither of us had a dad, and my mom's coin collection was no longer on her dresser where she kept it.

I'd always called him my "dad" not my "sperm donor" or any other spiteful name that makes it seem like I think about him more than I should. It also has to do with this recurring dream that I have. In the dream, he comes back to our doorstep and when he hears me call him dad, he feels guilty and wants a place in my life. But by then I'm already wealthy and successful with multiple cars and several coin collections that he can't have. And then he says, "But you'll never have another Dad." And then I say, "Fuck you, I can pay any bum on the street to be my dad. You just landed the job by chance," and I slam the door in his face.

I guess I do think about him more than I should.

My mom, my sister, and I started spending every weekend together when I was halfway through middle school. Mom thought that I was going down the wrong path, when really I was just going through that mysterious, bask in my own funk, "fuck the world"phase. The one where I grew my hair out and refused to take showers, I regret it every time I look at my old student I. D.

We went to the mall one Saturday when everything was on sale in every fucking store; it looked more like a people factory, working at it's highest level of function. Like most hormonal pubescents I didn't want to be around people, I only agreed because The Mexican Restaraunt in the mall had the best burritos. It's really called The Mexican Restaurant, whoever was naming the place took the easy road (imagine that conversation, "The name of your restaurant will be: The Mexican Restaurant! $500 please.").

We drove around the parking lot for thirty minutes looking for a spot, finally deciding on one across the street, in front of some hardware store. When we finally made it into the bloated shopping center, my mom insisted on going inside each and every store, which meant that I had to look after my sister, Katherine, while she was browsing EcoGoods for vitamins or Zales for promise rings or something.

Katherine and I stood outside of the fourth store (I don't remember what it's called, but I do remember that there was lots of lingerie), she stood a little closer to me than I would've liked, staring up at me with that "I'm about to do something to piss you off" look on her face.

"Mike. Mikey. Michael."

"Shit, what do you want?"

"This!" She then slapped me directly in the face as hard as she could with her (surprisingly strong) ten year old hand. It was as if she'd smacked me in the face with a fucking brick, I was surprised I didn't start to swell immediately. And since I was three years older than her, I wasn't allowed to hit her back. So I settled on the next best alternative.