Breaking Bad, Fight Club, Rick And Morty, Clockwork Orange, And The Catcher In The Rye Are All Arguably

breaking bad, fight club, rick and morty, clockwork orange, and the catcher in the rye are all arguably good things - but if a man says they are his FAVORITE book/movie/tv show? RUN.

if your feminism doesn’t include all women, i’m not interested in it 

Part of me wants to shift the entirety of Magical Fantasy Adventure Land into the normal world instead of splitting it into a separate realm.

Part of me is still annoyed that this fucker still doesn’t have a proper title. Or at least something that sounds better as a place holder.

“Imaginary Friends” Preview Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

Adrian’s World

September 4th, 1999

On that same day, before the two boys met, Adrian Carter was sitting in the front of his dad’s car, running his hand back and forth across the window, increasingly bored and in desperate need of a stretch. To compensate for the long drive, his dad had let him pick the music, but eventually switched to NPR when he could no longer take listening to Smash Mouth’s “Astro Lounge” for the collective 48th time. With his one silver lining revoked, Adrian took it upon himself to count every cow they passed, as this was both mildly entertaining and clearly something the world needed. By late afternoon, when they’d arrived at the old farmhouse Mr. Carter had purchased, he’d counted at least seventeen, but might’ve missed a few while he was rolling his head back in sheer road trip agony. Adrian was all too eager to step out of the car and race around in the fresh air, but before he could get too far, his dad grabbed him around the waist and propped him up on his shoulders.

“Are you excited?” Mr. Carter said. “This is our new house!”

He gestured to the vast farmhouse in front of them. It was tall and decaying in some areas, but mostly alright, and had a wide front porch protected by a glass screen. With no fence, Adrian could spot a large barren tree in the backyard, as well as a peeling white barn just north of that. Past the barn was a forest with a wheat field to its right. Adrian couldn’t think of the words to answer his dad, so he just responded with, “It’s old.”

“That’s why we’re gonna fix it up!” Mr. Carter set his son down. “Why don’t we take a little break and eat something before we unpack the essentials?”

“I want pastrami.”

“We have turkey.”

“Bleh.”

“Oh, come on, you like turkey. That’s all you used to eat.”

“But now I don’t like it.”

“My finnicky son. What your mother would’ve thought of you, I’d like to know. Okay, here’s my compromise: you eat the turkey now and I’ll take us out for dinner later. Deal?”

“Burger King.”

“Burger King again? But we’ve eaten at Burger King twice in the past two days!”

“I’ll eat the turkey if we go to Burger King.”

“Fine. Shake on it.”

Mr. Carter rubbed his palm across his cheek before extending his hand to his son. Adrian did the same and shook it. This was the Carters’ alternative to spitting on their hands to make a deal. Once that was settled, they both gave huge stretches and ate the turkey sandwiches from the cooler in the backseat. Both father and son sitting atop their white Ford Taurus, Adrian thought he saw something rustle in the wheat field but figured it might just be his overactive imagination at play again. Of course, we know who exactly was in that wheat field, but in his five-year-old brain, Adrian wagered that it could also have been a ghost or a spirit haunting the land. And while most children would be frightened stiff by that notion, Adrian Carter was not.

As he was helping his dad by dragging the sleeping bags across their leafy lawn, Adrian spotted the figure again, this time exiting from the back of the house—though his vision was partially obscured by the sleeping bags drooping over his right eye. He put both beddings on the porch and ventured off to find the ghost and befriend it. As soon as he did so, however, his dad appeared and redirected him back to the car to finish unloading what he could. Once that was over, Adrian jumped right back into his original goal and wandered away to the wheat field. He stepped carefully forward, thinking of what one might say to a ghost to make sure it didn’t vanish upon initial interaction, hoping that it was a friendly spirit and not an evil one. Imagine his surprise when, instead of a ghost, Adrian ran into a small ginger-haired boy rummaging around in the dirt. Their eyes connected, and Adrian could see his pupils were a strange shade of crimson. This was not at all what he’d prepared for—yet, in a way, he’d ended up with what he wanted all the same.

#

March 28th, 2010

Easton was the first to fall asleep, as he usually did when the rain started to weather down on the rooftop. He was so peaceful-looking curled up in his bed that Adrian couldn’t help but stare at him from his own. Adrian did this sometimes when he couldn’t sleep: just laid down and memorize the freckles of his best friend’s face from across the room. When he’d first started doing it back in middle school it felt sort of creepy, but that feeling had long since passed and a passive contentment had settled in its place. In his dreams—more frequently than he’d like to admit—he would be laying in Easton’s bed instead of his own, nuzzling him from under the covers, their bodies pressed together as he wrapped his arms around his friend while they breathed to the rhythm of the rain.

But these were the dreams Adrian would wake from with tears down his cheeks, for even unconsciously he knew that fate’s cruel hand would never allow such a treasure. He’d wipe the despondency from his eyes, smile wide, and meet his best friend at the bus stop where the bus would come and pick Easton up first, then Adrian a minute later. He’d go to school, do the ear scratch that signified waving to each other in the hallway between classes, kick around the soccer ball afterschool during practice, then walk home and meet Easton at their usual spot in the tree. Easton would read to him a passage from whichever book he was currently reading (or rereading) while Adrian would challenge his friend to whatever game he’d come up with during study hall. Or sometimes they would just play Name That Tune.

That was a typically uneventful day for Adrian. Or at least it had been. Right now, he was feeling a small distance from his best friend, who’d been acting a bit more emotional lately. But as he stared at his fifteen-year-old roommate who turned away from him towards the window, illuminated by the occasional bolt of lightning, Adrian couldn’t help but feel a bit empty. How could he be filled with such joy and such erosion at the same time? This, dear friend, was because life, despite common misconceptions, is not all or nothing: it is all and nothing. Adrian loved Easton with all his heart, but nothing would change the fact that they were on two separate islands, each barely visible from across an ocean, seeming only a mirage to the other. And unfortunately, my friend, asking for help was a futile task, as life will continue to be unswayed towards the feelings of those in longing.

#

September 4th, 1999

A few moments after Easton had left for dinner at whatever nearby house he lived at, Adrian heard his dad hollering. He walked out of the wheat field to find Mr. Carter frantically jogging around the estate, looking for him. When they spotted each other, Mr. Carter ran over to him and clutched him to his chest. Adrian could feel his dad’s heart beating fast against his right ear.

“Oh, you scared me, son!” Mr. Carter broke away from Adrian. “I’ve been calling you for thirty minutes.”

“I didn’t hear you,” Adrian replied, which was true.

“Where were you?”

“I was playing with my new friend.”

“New friend?”

“Yeah, Easton. He lives ‘round here.”

“Huh. That’s strange. I haven’t seen a house for miles. But be that as it may, you can’t go wandering off just yet. I’m not comfortable with you being out of my sight for right now.”

“Okay. I’m sorry…”

“Well, there’s no use dwelling on it. Once I’ve surveyed the area, I’ll let you know where I think it’s safe for you to play, alright? In the meantime, it’s starting to rain, so let’s go inside and unpack those clothes!”

“What about my bed?”

“Uncle Jesse’s bringing it by tomorrow with the rest of our stuff. Don’t you want to explore your new home? I’ll show you your room!”

Adrian nodded, and they headed into the house through the backdoor, which was unlocked. As soon as they entered the bare kitchen, the five-year-old started looking around with curious eyes. The inside was much like the outside, yet it held a certain charm to it. It was cozy and contained, if not incredibly spacious. It wasn’t particularly clean though and, as Adrian stepped forward, he left a trail of footsteps in the dust. Mr. Carter took notice of him looking back at them and said, “Don’t you worry. I’ll be doing some tidying up tonight.”

“Where’s my room?” Adrian asked.

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

Mr. Carter led him upstairs to the fourth door at the end of the hall. Opening it, Adrian walked inside and saw that his room was fairly large, even for adult standards. The grey curtains on the windows, like the rest of the house, were drawn, but he could hear the rain starting to thump against the glass. He opened them and peered outside to find a slightly blurred view of the leaf-stripped tree in the backyard. He turned around and looked at his dad.

“I like it!” He smiled. “Can we get Burger King now?”

“Alright…” Mr. Carter sighed. “Let’s go.”

Due to the moving boxes and other things blocking the front door, the Carters left the way they came in. The storm had taken no time at all in becoming unruly, so they had to race to the car while unavoidably getting soaked. Young Adrian laughed as he did so. Once they were buckled up and safe from the downpour, Mr. Carter revved the engine and backed out of the muddy gravel driveway and onto the main road. They had to drive all the way out to Altus to order from the closest Burger King and consumed everything within the seven minutes it took to get home. The rain showed no sign of letting up, so Adrian and his dad, again, sprinted for the backdoor, tracking in mud from the bottoms of their shoes.

“Let me find a towel for you to dry off,” Mr. Carter said, and went into the living room. He returned with a folded towel and a change of clothes for his son, who promptly made use of them. While he was doing so, out of the corner of his eye, Adrian spotted another figure scampering upstairs. Perhaps it really was a ghost this time! He left his dad, who was still drying off, and tiptoed towards it, excited at the prospect of finally meeting an otherworldly being. But when he arrived at the second-floor hallway, he found his surroundings wholly empty.

Adrian walked into his room, disappointed again by the results until he looked down. On the floor, staring at him with the same red hue in its eyes as Easton had, was a pearly white cat with a mess of fur grooming itself. This development delighted Adrian. Where had this cat come from? Was this old farmhouse its home? If that was the case, he certainly couldn’t send it out into the rain. Evicting it from the place it already resided simply because they’d moved in was a cruel notion, even if it was the American way. Adrian resolved to care for the poor thing right then and there, slowly sitting down as not to frighten it. The cat, however, seemed unaffected by his presence and continued cleaning its fur.

“Here kitty,” said the young boy. “Come here.”

At this, the cat looked up at him and gave him a hard stare. It was almost as if he was seeing straight through Adrian to something behind him, but Adrian knew there was nothing there. (Unless his dad had come up, but he hadn’t heard any creaks in the floorboards.) Then, quite unexpectedly, the cat darted from its place on the dusty floor and sped past Adrian with the force of a bullet. This caused the young boy to spin around and immediately look up at the person standing in front of him. It was the boy he’d met in the wheat field, Easton.

“What are you doing in my room?” they said together.

For a moment the two kids could only stare at each other. Then, without a word, Easton ran off. He returned moments later, his hand outstretched as he seemed to be dragging something invisible alongside him. Adrian stood up as Easton threw his other arm out and glanced expectedly at the empty space beside him.

“Huh?” said the boy. “But he’s right there!”

Adrian tilted his head, mystified. “Who’re you talking to?”

Easton turned to him. “My brother!” Then he turned back to the empty space. “He’s not imaginary! Touch him!” The red-haired boy grabbed at something in a sort of pantomime, and moved it towards Adrian, stopping when his hand was only a fist’s length away. His eyes went wide. “What…?” Suddenly, Easton let go of what he’d been holding and shoved has hand into Adrian’s chest. His fingers stuck through to the other side. Both boys jumped back, startled by this development.

Adrian’s face lit up giddily. “Cool!”

Easton on the other hand looked frightened for his life and ran off again. Confused, but utterly enthralled by this strange wonderment, Adrian just stood there, smiling, as he didn’t know what else to do. After all this time of imagining something greater, he finally had the unexplainable to indulge in. It was a good thing too, as if he hadn’t had that mindset, the two might never have found the secret to this bizarre happening.

“Dad!” Young Adrian cried, misinterpreting things. “I just met a ghost!”

But of course, we both know that things were not that simple and couldn’t be fully rationalized by two five-year-old brains. For the best of mysteries take years to wind up and a lifetime to unravel. And for Adrian and Easton, a lifetime it would take.

Author: @besttardywrites (Best Tardy)

So I drove by Boulder Pride and there were a murder of goths simmering under a black Lolita parasol in the sun, looking intentionally done with everything but not actually leaving.

Spotify

Mello Jello, a playlist by Best Tardy on Spotify

A playlist featuring Corey Kilgannon, Blind Pilot, Julie Byrne, and others

I really like music. It’s how I fall in love.