Awkward Confession

"Hi, Jessica," He said, standing in the doorway to her dorm.
She stood up from her desk, shoved her hands in her pockets, "Hey."
They were silent, awkward.
Then he spoke, quiet, shy, "We broke up."
"What?" She was studying the pile of laundry on her floor.
"Crystal and I." He explained, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the carpet.
"Oh." Jessica said.
He waited for her to say more.
She didn't.
"Okay...well..." He turned around, like he was going to leave.  
He didn't.

"Last night --" he started to say.

"Was wrong." She finished for him, forcefully.  Jessica watched his shoulders hunch forward a bit; his back was toward her.
He still didn't leave, "You know I --"
"Hey, Char?"
He turned around a bit too quickly, his face hopeful "Yeah?"
"I'm with Liam."  She told him, though she was sure he already knew
"Oh."  Char studied his shoes.
She coughed and hugged herself, shifting awkwardly.
He looked at her silently for a few minutes, and then said softly, "You regret it?"
"Yes.  No, yes!"  She shook her head, confusing herself.
"I'm sorry."  He said, disappointed at her reaction.
"We cheated."
"I know."
"I'm sorry, Char."
"Don't be, Jessica."
Jessica sucked in a deep breath, "Okay."
Char clucked his tongue absently and ran a hand through his hair.
"You broke up?" She asked.
"Yeah, we did."
"Sorry."
He shrugged lopsidedly, "Don't be."
"Fine. "
"Liam's a jerk."  He said, crossing his arms.
"Really, he's sweet."  She tried to defend her boyfriend, though she knew that Char was right.  Liam was a jerk.  But he really did like her...
"Whatever you say."
"I love you."  Jessica bit her lip as soon as the words had left her mouth, only half-wishing them back.
Char looked up sharply, unsure if she was serious.
Jessica smiled sadly.
Then he smiled, not at all sadly, "Me, too."
They looked at each other, no longer awkward, no longer nervous.  Just smiling.

Actors Studio Method, Pizza FULL:

John: Is on the phone, ordering a pizza, when Julia walks in.
Julia: Is John's jealous girlfriend who is convinced John is speaking to another woman in code.

John: Mmhmm...Yeah, okay. Half an hour?
[Julia walks in]
John: Alright... 30 minutes. Make sure it's hot, okay?

Julia: Who is that?!

John: [covers mouthpiece of the phone] Nobody, honey. [Into the phone] Extra cheese, right? Okay. Right.

Julia: 'Extra cheese'?! What does that mean?

John: It means extra cheese, Julia.

Julia: What, am I not good enough for you?!"

John: Julia! I'm HUNGY!

Julia: So you have to go somewhere else? [starts to cry] I'm hurt, John. How could you?

John: Sweetheart.... I love you, but... your pizza just is never quite right.

Julia: 'My Pizza'?! It's 'my pizza' now?!

John:  Oh my God, Julia!  Back off, I'm sorry!

Julia: [growls] I can't believe this!  Go ‘cancel your order', or I'm done with us!

John: [flings his hands in the air in an exasperated fashion] Julia, I can't!  He's probably halfway here, already!

Julia: [is shocked] A man?  John - a man is giving you ‘pizza'!?

John:  Well... Probably.  I'm not really sure... but normally it's a man.

Julia: [begins to sob] You mean...God, John, you've done this before!?

John: [he  sighs]  Yes, Julia.  This has been my plan B for years and years.

Julia: [Chokes in surprise]  Years?!  John, how could you?!

John: Why are you so upset over this?!

Julia: If you don't know, you don't deserve to know!  And you don't deserve me!  I'm leaving you, John!  Have a nice time with your ‘pizza'!

[Doorbell rings.  Julia runs over to the door and wrenches it open]

Julia: Do whatever you want with him you horrible boyfriend-stealer!

[she stops and sees the pizza man, who is looking confused and scared of Julia.]

Pizza Man: Um... I've got your medium pizza here... Extra cheese?

"The Grin"  DO NOT READ THIS ONE IF YOU GET SICK AT THE MENTION OF BLOOD

But this one is my favourite.......

I had just died not but a few days ago, and already my family was rid of me.  No coffin, no funeral, no ceremony.  Of course, they didn't realize my soul was watching them, but it doesn't make their actions sting any less.

After I was hit by the car, my family cried, of course, and they sued the teen that had hit me for negligent driving, and hit-and-run.  The case is still pending.

But two days after they had filed the case, they told everyone that they would rather have a small family service than a memorial.  Only they didn't hold anything of the sort.  They took my body, drove me up into the woods, said a two-second goodbye, and left me lying in the mud.

My soul watched over my body then, not fully realizing that my parents had truly abandoned me, until night fell.  The first scavengers were birds, and they landed on my body's face and begin to peck at my eyes.  Vaguely I was reminded of my last Halloween party, when I was bobbing for apples; such was the motion of the hungry crows.  Stunned and horrified, I watched the creatures for several minutes without doing anything.  I could almost feel the pain, but not quite.  There was a hot, barely itching sensation where my eyes would have been if I still resided in my body, and it wasn't until one of the crows had pulled one bloody orb completely out of the socket that I realized what I was watching. 

I yelled and raved, trying to swipe at the birds with my soul's non-existent hands, but the birds only looked at me with mild interest, and then went back to picking my eyes clean from my body's face.

I would have cried, but I learned then that souls did not cry.  Instead I screamed until my souls voice, somehow, went raw, and I was unable to scream any longer.

By the end of the night, all that was left of my body's face was bone, and the smallest shreds of muscle that the proud birds had been too lazy to eat.

The day after my face had been cleansed of all flesh, spots of grey and green rot bloomed over what remained of my body.  I watched that day as more beasts shredded my skin from my bones, ignoring the hot feeling whenever something bit or tore into the bits of flesh that had not yet rotted.

I was hurt.  How could my family do this to my body?

By the end of the third day, even the rotten flesh had been eaten by hungry animals. 

All that remained was bones, my skull grinning at me, for it did not have a choice.

This is my short story:

 The Icky Incident

I love Christi dearly.  My darling daughter, my only daughter, was always sure to tell me, everyday, how much she loved me.  And the extent of a four year old's love will always be as far as her arms can reach, and always "plus one" more than I love her.  That's what she thinks, anyway, but she doesn't realize that my love for my baby girl is far greater than any number can count.

          What I didn't love was that evil mouse on the Disney Channel.  Mickey Mouse was, and is, Christi's "best friend", since her second birthday when she got a stuffed animal of the thing.  And I used to think that the mutant rat from hell was a blessing.  Everyday, Christi would march down the stair in some hideous assortment of patterns and colours - she was very particular about dressing herself, without Mommy's help - and click on the television to Playhouse Disney.  My Christi would then proceed to zone out in front of the T.V.  That suited me just fine, as it's always taken me three cups of coffee and at least two hours to fully wake up.  Christi was quite happy with the arrangement, as well.  But if I didn't know then, I know now that Christi doesn't like changes in her schedule.

          The night before "The Icky Incident", as we now call it, the T.V. set had been placed out of commission in an incident involving my husband, Jeff, a wireless Nintendo Wii remote, and a two-inch-in-diameter hole smack dab in the middle of my television screen.  I was sitting in the kitchen the next morning, only on my second cup of coffee, when a blood curdling scream of absolute horror tore into the room and assaulted my ears brutally.

          I leapt from my seat, the wooden chair I was sitting in toppling backward, and my second-best coffee mug shattering into millions of pieces as it tumbled from my hands onto my granite floor.  I flew into the living room, vaulting over left-behind toys and picture blocks, trying desperately to get to my daughter, so I could fight off whatever evil was harming my precious little girl.

          Immediately after I got to her, I scooped her up into my arms and began to check her for injuries. Distantly I realized that she was pointing to the far corner of the room, but I quickly shoved that thought aside and focused on checking that no bones had been broken.

"Shhh, shhh, baby what's wrong?  What hurts, show mommy?"

But my darling four year old was a blubbering mess, buckets of tears pouring down her face and soaking her overalls as she screamed and cried.

When I could find no bleeding or immediate bruising, I switched to yes-no questions, "Is it your head?"

Her wild blonde hair flew as she shook her head ‘no'.

"Your arms?  Tummy?  Legs?  Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

All of my questions were coming back to me as ‘no's, and she was really sobbing now, upset that I didn't magically know what was wrong.

"Wanna...where?!  ICKEY!" She screamed, hugging me fiercely about my neck.  I rocked her back and forth, making soothing noises to get her to calm, while my own mind was racing a million miles a second.

"Honey, you have to tell me what hurts?  Can you do that for Mommy?"

"NOT HURT!  Ickey!!"

My breathing began to even out almost immediately after being informed that my baby wasn't hurt.  But I still couldn't figure out why she was crying, "What's icky, honey?"

"ICKEY!"  She wailed, furious that I did not understand.

"Show me, sweetie.  I don't know what that means."

She flung herself away from me, stomped over to the far wall, screaming her head off, and thrust her hand into the space where the T.V. had previously sat.

"Oh, man..."  I groaned.  Ickey was Mickey Mouse, Mickey Mouse was in the T.V., and the T.V. was now living in the bottom of the dumpster...

"Sweetie..." I was speaking very softly, so that if she wanted to hear me, she had to stop screaming.  "Sweetheart," I began again when her screams had dulled to whimpers and tears, "Mickey Mouse is on vacation today.  You know vacation?  He'll be back tomorrow."

She blinked at me owlishly, confused, her blue eyes huge and red from crying, "But Ickey... Ickey doesn't go on vacation."

"He's on vacation today, love."

Christi then crossed her arms and did the best impression of my eternally-disappointed-in-me-mother-in-law that I have ever, to this day, seen.  Then she promptly threw herself on the floor, kicking and screaming bloody murder.

"NOOOOoooo! NOOOOOO!!!"

"Christi!  Christi stop it!  Stop it now, Christi!!"

"Noooooo!  ICKEY COME BACK!"

You would have thought I was killing her, with how much she was screaming, and any other time it might have been funny.  But as it was, I had been allowed only one and a half cups of coffee, and I was not happy.

I scooped her up and attempted to take her up the stairs, but she was flailing her arms and legs about.  "Stop it!" I yelled, as one cowboy boot kicked me in the face, "CHRISTI!  Cut it OUT!!"

"Nooo!  Ickey!  I love you, NO VACATION!!"

Finally I was able to drag her into her room, though she was still screaming like a banshee and was trying to worm away from me. I hefted her up into her bed and removed her shoes, - one cowboy boot and one flip-flop - deciding it best that she sleep for a while longer.

She screamed in my ear, and I jerked back, suddenly hearing a high-pitched ringing that made my eyes water. "NO!" I said sternly, "We don't yell at Mommy!  That is not allowed!"  I stood up, turned on my heel and left her room, closing her door behind me.  When I got downstairs, I could still hear her screaming her lungs out.

I started another pot of coffee.

Two hours later, Christi came down the stairs quietly, so quietly that I didn't realize she had even come out from her room.  The screaming had stopped an hour ago, and I had just assumed that she had finally fallen asleep.  I was sitting at the table again, reading some book or other, when she came up behind me and hugged me gently.

"I sowwy mummy..."She sniffled, "I love you... I sowwy."

My anger at her tantrum - for it really was her outburst, not Christi herself, which had frustrated me - was forgotten instantly as I hugged my baby girl.  "You won't do that again, though, will you?  You hurt Mommy."

"I sowwy...I sowwy mummy.  No hurting mummy..."

"Okay," I said, and she was forgiven, "Alright sweets."

She smiled and tottered off to the living room to read a book or play LEGOS or something.

In another hour I was done with my book, and I was getting lunch together.  Macaroni and Cheese was Christi's favourite, and I had decided to make it after such a rough morning, as a sort of pick-me-up for her.

"Christi!" I called, "Come eat lunch!"

Silence.

"I made macaroni!  And juice!"  Christi liked juice best, too.

More silence.

Then, "I like maconree cheese..."  I heard her say, and I smiled at her inability to pronounce the word.

"I know you do.  Come eat, love."

There was a big sigh of indecision.  And then she said, sadly, "I can't mummy..."

I frowned, and began to walk into the living room, "Why n-" I stopped.  Christi was sitting in front of where the T.V. was supposed to be, staring at the empty space.  All around her were ALL of her stuffed animals, covering every surface of my previously clean living room.  Pigs, elephants, dogs, cats, cows, and birds everywhere.  Lions and tigers and bears, too.  Oh my.

"Christina Jane Springs, what on earth have you been doing?" I breathed.

She looked up at me, smiling, and said proudly, "I'm waiting for Ickey!"

"And the stuffed animals?"

She looked around, then, and her eyes widened as if seeing the animals for the first time.  Then she looked back to me, "They are waiting, too!"

I sighed, "Christi, I thought you knew that Ickey - I mean Mickey - is on vacation!"

She nodded, "Mm-hm!  But Ickey will come for me!  He'll come back!"

"He'll come back tomorrow. Now come eat!"

"No!" She cried, tears starting again, "What if he's back and I am gone?  Ickey be mad at me, then!"

"Oh, Christi, he won't be mad, I promise!  He's coming back tomorrow, so you can eat now!"  I was getting frustrated again.

Christi shook her head, "No, mummy!"

"Well, guess what?  You're going to eat, anyway."  I picked her up and carried her to the kitchen.  She didn't struggle, but as soon as I had put her in her chair, she slipped out of it and ran back into the living room.

I chased after her, and repeated the process again.  And again.  And again.

When Jeff came home from work, some three hours later, I was still trying to get her to eat the now-cold lunch I had made.  I was half-sitting on top of her, and she was sobbing, though quietly, and trying to wriggle away without hurting me.

"Ickey!  Ickey!"  She kept saying over and over again.  I kept telling her that he would be back tomorrow.

"Good God, Mary!"  Jeff cried when he saw us, and indeed, I do believe we would have made quite a sight, "What are you doing to her!?"

"Daddy!"  Christi cried, "Mummy squishes me!  Help!"

"Mary!!"

This is where I sighed and stood, surrendering.  Christi escaped, gave her father a quick hug in thanks, and ran off to wait for Mickey Mouse to come back.

"What was happening?"  He tried to hug me, but I stopped him.

"Go get a T.V. Jeff."

"What?"  He stared at me.

I stared back.

He pouted, then, not unlike Christi, "But I just got home!" He whined.

"I've been with your daughter all day!  She won't do anything until she sees Mickey Mouse!  And you broke the T.V. last night.  So you have to."

"But-"

"Jeff!  T.V."

He sighed, "Yes, dear."

"I love you, mummy!!"  I could hear Christi call from the living room, "I sowwy!  But I wait for Ickey!  I love you!"

I sighed, my anger draining, "I love you, too, sweets."

"I love you thiiiiiiiis much!"  I could imagine her stretching her arms out wide.

"I Love you more!" I smiled

"I love you plus one than you love me!"  She giggled.

"Oh yeah?"  I laughed.

"Yeah!"

"Do you love me more than Ickey?"

Silence.