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Wishful Thinking: Summerset I


Quixerotic


Copyright 2018 by Quixerotic


Smashwords Edition


Wishful Thinking

Summerset I

by Quixerotic



His mind tried to catch up, but he figured he was suffering from a redirection of blood flow. It’s Cindy from the actual film. She’s a clone of the character, not the actress. Jeez, this woman does everything in that scene. Blowjobs, tit-jobs, doggy, even anal! And now she’s some sex addicted personal harem for me?”

The town of Summerset, Tennessee held little interest for Alex Moore. It never had. Some people spent their youth exploring the un-walked paths and secret spaces of their small world, but not Alex. Alex had, for as long as he could remember, always been focused on the grander picture. It began in earnest in his first year as a teenager. A bug of music had caught him and his mind had turned toward becoming a country music star, moving to Nashville, and using his wealth to lord over the small minded people of Summerset. As time moved on, Alex discovered the opposite sex and most other things lost their appeal. His dreams of becoming someone rich or powerful dimmed into a vague expectation of a meager existence alongside friends, but the kernel of leaving Summerset remained. If anything, the town grew even smaller as he aged. Learning to drive changed his perspective a great deal. Behind the wheel, he could feel the long roads of America sprawling out all around him, each of them taking him as far from Summerset as possible.


Alex never took the siren’s call, though. Even as many of his friends did. The world moved on and Alex remained, growing stagnant and bitter. Despite being relatively bright and a quick learner, he had no aspirations for college. He lacked any real work ethic as well, somehow avoiding a bevy of job opportunities that would have led to many great things in his life. Instead, he took on employment at a local grocery store as a stock boy, working primarily in the night shift.


This is Alex as his true story began: Five foot eleven with the tendrils of pubescence lingering in his face. At twenty, he has not yet taken on the jawline of an adult man, but has developed a few wisps of facial hair. Atop his head, a pile of dry and broken auburn hair sits, begging passing grandmothers to take a comb to its tangles. His bright blue eyes have begun to dim into a grey color that could match the hue of the myriad of others in Summerset who never went anywhere. His form though still mostly gangly and ill-motored, has taken on a pudge of weight around the midsection. This trait he shares with the majority of his peers. The difference being that many of Alex’s old friends put on the weight due to a change in lifestyle or the stress of end of term exams while Alex simply eats the leftovers from the grocery deli at too high a pace while spending his off hours being as sedentary as possible. Seeing him, it is not hard to imagine a much larger version in the not distant future as he unconsciously abandons his remaining few good habits. His skin is blemished and elsewise marred by a troubling amount of acne that has retreated to his back where it is laying the groundwork for new patches of unsightly hair. Alex is unhappy, though he has not yet come to realize it. He allays any thoughts on his current well-being by drinking, eating, and video games. The first two vices are abetted by his boss. Angela, a woman who also sees a dimming future in a rundown town, prefers the negligent approach to employee supervision. The latter bad habit is enabled by Alex’s one remaining friend, Kurt who shares much of this description. Vice in hand, Alex is able to fool himself into believing that he is content if not happy, but in many sleepless nights and hungover mornings, he has begun to feel the worm of doubt festering in his thoughts. This small modicum of introspection has not led to self evaluation, but a projection of blame. He blames his mother for not preparing him, his father for leaving, society for being against him, and Summerset for being the type of black hole small town USA that holds mystic inertia over its residents.


This Alex stepped out of the back of the Meat-n-Bread grocery at the end of his shift. He’d volunteered once more to close up for Angela, who claimed to have another date. Alex doubted the boss lady saw much more social life than he did, but he couldn’t begrudge her aversion to work. He’d spent the extra time restocking a few shelves, sweeping the isles, and taking a crack at one of the nastier water stains near the meat section. Alex had no where to be and, with the next day off, no responsibilities at all. He planned to use his time finishing up the latest shooter on his Xbox. If he had time after that and felt like showering, he intended to go to the game store and see if he couldn’t find something new. This plan rumbled in his head while the fatigue of being on his feet for eight hours started to set in. He meandered toward his car, uncaring towards the peculiarly quiet lot and moonless night.


“Excuse me,” said a voice, startling Alex from his thoughts.


The young man whirled around toward the source of the sound as his mind recalled all the warnings he’d ever heard about walking to his car alone at night. In a fraction of a second, he cursed Angela for not making him replace the alley light bulb and cursed her again for leaving him unsupervised. He vocalized this rage, confusion, and fear in a quick, “Whozzat!?” His eyes strained to see anything within the shadows around him. How could it be so dark? Wasn’t there light a moment ago? As if in answer to his thoughts, a semblance of light returned to the world and from the inky darkness a man stepped forward.


“I did not mean to startle you,” the man said, though calling him a man did not seem accurate. Alex tried to take in the peculiar form as it approached. The man loomed over him like a giant owl. He wore a thick, black coat with shining buttons up the front. A Dickensian, ratty top hat covered the man’s head. He swooped it off and held it in front of him. “I am Thaddeus.”


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