Posts Tagged: fiction

A New Story on WhiskeyPaper!

I’m super excited to have a story, At the Roller Rink, on WhiskeyPaper today. Maybe I should be more chill about this, and say something like, “I am so humbled to have this site publish my story,” but actually I’m pretty stoked. I think Leesa Cross-Smith is the coolest and I loved her short story collection Every Kiss a War, so it’s really an honor to be on WP.

I’m sort of obsessed with the friendships of young girls at that age right before they start to be interested in boys, when they’re so close and intense that they’re almost romantic. And I’m even more obsessed with the point at which those friendships start to break down, which is when boys and sex enter the picture. There’s always one girl who crosses that line sooner, and that moment of outgrowing a friendship is like squirming in an itchy, embarrassing sweater. And then there’s the other girl, the one who’s holding on a little tighter, who doesn’t understand why things are even changing.

And also there’s rollerskating involved. An an REO Speedwagon song. I’ll love you forever if you read it!

Instead of Working on Things Actually Have a Deadline, I Wrote This Story About Lenny Kravitz

“Damn it,” said Lenny Kravitz. He’d spilled coconut milk on himself. Again.

That was what he got for eating cereal in bed. He knew it always led to disaster, but what could he do? It was a routine comfort. It reminded him of being a young Lenny Kravitz, sitting in a much smaller bed wearing a much smaller tunic and eating cereal with real milk. Lenny Kravitz was lactose intolerant now and had to drink coconut milk. He knew there were other milk alternatives, but he didn’t trust the phytoestrogens in soy milk and he didn’t like the taste of almond milk. He’d just seen that Almond Breeze was coming out with a almond/coconut milk blend. This intrigued Lenny Kravitz. He planned to try it.

Lenny Kravitz padded barefoot into the kitchen to find a paper towel. Carefully, he dabbed at his terry cloth sleep tunic. Terry cloth was a comfortable fabric, but goddamn if it didn’t absorb coconut milk. He’d learned this lesson many a time.

Lenny Kravitz sighed and thought about what was on his agenda for the day. Dr. Oz, sure, but that didn’t come on until 3. He thought about getting a 4th nose piercing put in, but decided against it. Lenny Kravitz walked back to the bedroom and stepped inside his walk-in tunic closet; he’d let the tunic decide the mood of the day.

Paisley. Chambray. Glitter. Name a tunic, Lenny Kravitz had it. He’d been collecting tunics for his entire lifetime, and it showed.

He ran his hand over them, and the hangers swayed back and forth. He seized upon a white linen tunic. Perfect for the warm weather. He pulled off the damp terrycloth tunic and slid into the linen tunic. Lenny Kravitz stared at himself in his full length mirror.

“Lenny Kravitz is ready for summer,” he whispered out loud to no one. He stared at himself and admired how the tunic looked over his impressively toned body. Lenny Kravitz didn’t work out. He’d just popped out of the womb looking like this.

After awhile, Lenny Kravitz emerged from the closet. It was dark. He glanced at the clock; 10 p.m. He’d stared at himself in a white linen tunic all day.

Lenny Kravitz crawled into bed, put on a sleep mask, and fell asleep immediately. He’d start all over again tomorrow. Maybe he’d get that 4th nose piercing after all.