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The story is simple.
Depressed boy meets crazy, possibly legally insane, girl at therapy and their whirlwind adventure begins.
Korin and Micha had only one thing in common: they had each discovered the...
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I've always wondered....
What did Toto get from the Wizard?
Why do they call a water fountain a "bubbler" in Wisconsin?
Does the size of the hand or feet really correlate to cock size?
Why do they call them food banks when you only withdraw, not deposit...isn't that a food disburse?
Ow, I seriously think I broke my ass.
Dinner was awkward. Korin was strangely distant and quiet once I joined them. Jay and Erik were giddy like boys that got their first handjobs...
Needless to say, it was awkward.
Possibly Korin wasn't used to having grilled Gouda and aged white cheddar with grilled pears on sour dough for dinner; it's one of my favorites. But then again, he ate it without question.
I danced around my room as the pictures Jhanie took of us printed out. "I wonder if little man would go Gnome swapping with me?" I asked; talking aloud was the only useful therapy I had found which worked for me; no overly priced shrink required. "It's fun, illegal as hell, but totally worth the possible felony record," I reminded the big haired gnome sitting on my desk, waiting for a new home. "If I asked him to play the trumpet for me would he? I've never seen a musician not want to play before. If he wasn't good he wouldn't be going to the Academy, right?" I asked, scratching my head. It was an assumption with basis since only eleven-hundred students were admitted to the San Francisco Academy of Contemporary Arts. I already completed my schooling at Oxford while a resident at the asylum, and technically am a secondary education graduate, but what better way to spend five days a week, six hours a day, than stalking Korin at school?!
It made total sense to me.
I grabbed the stack of pictures from the printer then flopped on the bed and settled in for the night. After opening the small window next to my bed in the dormer, I lit what I said would be my last cigarette since Korin didn't like them, and enjoyed my last inhaled nicotine rush while flipping through the stack of pictures. Looking at them made me smile and made it slightly more acceptable that I was going to give up smoking for a boy of all things. Korin was smiling and looked happy in each photo, which was funny because I knew that he wasn't that type of happy-go-lucky guy. He was a pessimistic prick, most likely because he's played wing-bitch to John for so many years and it caused him to develop a little man complex, but with me he was smiling...still a bitter, cynical prick, but it was mixed with amusement and a smile and that made him beyond sexy.
Apparently I had issues.
"This one," I mumbled as I put the picture I liked best on my nightstand over my alarm clock: Korin had climbed up on me and was using me like a jungle gym, and both of us were smiling wide, and it summed up our adventure that day.
