feel me gone

I was thinking, if I died tonight and never slept the whole night with Johnny Cupcakes, I would call it an only fairly satisfactory life….”

 

by laine perry

 

I have never wanted to sleep with any man more than I want to sleep with Johnny Cupcakes. I don’t want to do anything but hold him. He’s nothing but delicious. I think of licking him on the eyelids, his forearms, the backside of his knees. My want of him is the fuel that keeps me alive these days. I’m not obsessed with Johnny Cupcakes. I’m enamored of him. I don’t wonder where he lives or what it’s like in there- in his place. I’ve been in there. We kissed, talked, drank red wine, took off our shirts, kissed some more, fell asleep, woke up and I went home. The day this happened he was riding past me on his bicycle and he had to disengage me from my earphones. I don’t look at boys on the street. I listen to Iggy Pop scream about how he’s been Dirt, and doesn’t care. Johnny C. was riding with a guy friend when he saw me and accosted me with questions like, “When are you coming by?” I answered with “I’ve stopped by eleven times and you don’t answer.” He thought I should come over that night and watch a movie with him..maybe drink a bottle of wine. I refused and said the only thing I want to hear from him is “Yes, Laine.” I then told him I had about an hour to spend starting twenty minutes from where we stood trying to make something happen. He was there and I went in. He was just Johnny before that. Next, he was Johnny Pirate because that’s the connection. He’s a pirate and so am I and we know it. But yesterday when my new roommate and I were caught in a rainstorm and had to walk with two brown paper bags filled with everything we thought a good cupcake might want…we returned home to find we did not own a cupcake pan. I dialed Johnny’s number and hot to know my roommate better he agreed to run us to the market. I sat in the back and let her sit next to him. I am kind of into the torture of not having what I want and making sure it’s close enough to me to hit me hard, like when a fourth grade adversary knocks the wind out of you before you can even make up your mind about fighting.

They were sitting up there in the front seat of Johnny Cupcakes’ Jeep and I was thinking, if I died tonight and never slept the whole night with Johnny Cupcakes, I would call it an only fairly satisfactory life.

The frosting we came up with was white chocolate, guava fruit buttercream. We made vanilla bean cupcakes. I was thinking of Johnny the whole time we were baking. My roommate thinks he’s hot. She’s tall, and goofy with bad skin, and big breasts. She’s all right though. She lasted through the walk in the rain with the groceries, a quick hitch hiking stint that landed us back in civilization, and she allows me to bring up Johnny’s name at least seven times a day, and like Johnny told me yesterday, she has pretty eyes. So what am I going to do? Nothing. Before Johnny I was involved with a movie director who aimed to control my every move. Before him? Another pirate.

If I don’t make the next thing matter I don’t think there will be anyone alive who will feel me gone.

Originally published:
Issue Sixty-One
July 2011

 

(illustration: john richen)


Laine Perry grew up on the road with her mom, making music and telling stories. Laine, with the help of fellow Smokeboxer Ed Markowski and a steady supply of red licorice, is almost finished with her first screenplay, ‘Used Men’, which will be made into a feature film this winter. More from Laine Perry can be found in the Vault of Smoke.

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