Violence: Not really.
Language: Uh, not good. If you don't like foul language you may want to go elsewhere.
Other: This story has the potential for a f/f relationship. If it's illegal where you live, write your congressman or go somewhere else.
Feedback: Welcome at firstname.lastname@example.org or email@example.com
That had come out of nowhere and now that I had everyone's attention, I felt a peculiar shade of burgundy creeping up my neck. What I thought of the President was old news, but it flew out before I could stop it. This wasn't looking very good.
My boss gaped at me, his mouth moving to make words but only clicks and grunts came out. It reminded me of some African tribesman and it took a lot of self-restraint not to laugh. Then I noticed, curiously, that the entire crew had grown silent. I looked from one startled man to the next, their garbage pokers stuck in the ground or half raised to black garbage bags. A semi went by and ruffled the rather ill fitting toupee my boss was sporting. It seemed to slap him back to reality as he grabbed at it before it could fly away in the truck's wake.
"Conner you're FIRED!" he finally screamed, his face as red as mine felt.
I grimaced as the word ╬fired' echoed through my head. I didn't think it had anything to do with the fact that he was a right-wing Republican and a staunch supporter of George W. Bush, being a native Texan.
Before I go any further let me put this on pause and tell you what possessed me to say those words in the first place. The devil made me do it.
Well, not exactly, but one can only hope, right?
Alright, the truth is this. I suffer from a horrible, cunt-of-misery disease. It's called Turrette's syndrome. Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. But I tell you what, it's cost me more jobs than you can imagine. Even with a doctor's note.
You don't believe me? Well let me give you an example. Or six.
Let's see, there was the time I worked in a restaurant as a bus-girl. I figured it would be harmless enough. No direct contact with the public, just clean the tables and be done with it, right? Right.
It was all good and fine until, as I was restocking the kitchen, a sudden outburst scared a cook so bad he had heart palpitations and fell forward onto the grill. Let me tell you, the smell of cooking flesh is not pleasant.
Not good enough?
Okay, how about the time I worked down at the tracks mucking stalls. A few words, and I swear they weren't really that loud, caused a horse to go berserk and trample the poor jockey it had thrown from its back. When the guy got up he was shorter than Willy Shoemaker.
And if that wasn't bad enough, you should see what happens off the job. I'll suffice it to say that all the cabbies in town have pictures of me on their dashboards. They won't give me rides anymore, I guess it's some insurance liability. At least that's what they tell me.
So here was job number fifty-eleven down the tubes. Who'd have thought disaster could befall a roadside trash picker-upper? I tossed my garbage bag aside and started back towards town on the side of the highway.
I unlocked the door of my meager studio apartment. Being the world record holder for going through the most jobs in a week did nothing for my finances and so far this tiny place had been the easiest to keep.
I tossed my keys and jacket on the ancient sofa slash bed and made my way to the small refrigerator. My stomach was growling even though I was disgusted at having lost another job. The inside of it did nothing to quell my hunger, even through all the science experiments I had growing in there. A three-week old piece of pizza caught my eye and I bit into it, heading for the TV.
After flipping through the channels fifty cock-sucking times, I shut the offending object off and sat in silence. I was horribly lonely, my disease leaving me virtually friendless and without a doubt lacking a relationship of any sort. I couldn't even keep a pet. Figuring fish as immune to my little outbursts, I was more than a surprised to find Goldy the goldfish belly up one day after a particularly bad tirade that was out of my control. Any more, the only creatures that weren't afraid or offended by my vulgarities were the resident cockroaches. I didn't figure they counted because everyone in this neighborhood had those.
Unable to sit still a minute longer, I donned my worn corduroy jacket and headed for the streets.
After an eventful evening (I should remind you that there is never a dull moment when you have Turrette's) I returned home, the proud owner of a black eye and a fat lip. The neighborhood toughs had decided it was my night for a little fun, and did I mention that the more stressful the situation, the more severe my case of diarrhea of the mouth?
Anyway, after a few expletives about their mothers, the last thing I saw was an extremely close up view of a gold ring they'd probably heisted off of some poor tourist. It must have taken a lot of courage for them because with my height of 6"1', even with a slender build, I must say most people find me intimidating. Especially my eyes. At least that's what I had been told on more than one ear-burning occasion.
After that the first thing I saw was an extremely beautiful young woman bent over me, wiping the blood from my mouth. The first thing I noticed about her were those incredible green eyes. The second thing was that she didn't turn tail and run after what I said about Mother Teresa and Ron Jeremy. The third thing I noticed was that she still managed a small smile even though I must've looked like a Cyclops with parched lips. Will miracles never cease?
After reassuring her through several small cuss words that I was fine, I managed to convince her that this happened all the time and that I'd be fine to walk home alone. As much as I would have loved the company, I couldn't bear the thought of her listening to any more of the shit spewing from my mouth. She looked innocent enough and I didn't want to be credited with taking that away from her with a few words.
As I kicked back on the sofa I couldn't help but let my mind drift back to the events of the night. It was the first time in a long while that someone had shown me kindness, even after hearing me in all my glory. I couldn't help but wonder why I hadn't asked her name.
╬Oh well,' I thought to myself. ╬You'll never see her again and even if you do she'll probably run screaming for the ball-licking hills'.
Isn't it great? I even think in Turrette's.
I awoke the next morning with a little bit of a headache. Not surprising, considering I couldn't even see out of my right eye. I decided that I was in no condition to go job hunting and figured I'd spend the day wandering through town. A perfectly harmless idea, right?
Two hours into what I considered to be the most peaceful day I'd had in a long while (minus the stares I was getting over my eye), I found a hot dog vendor with a patch over his eye hollering that he had the best dogs in all the city. Sympathizing with his situation I decided to spend the small amount of money I had with me on a hot dog with the works- sauerkraut, relish, mustard, chili and ketchup. Looking at me as though I'd lost my mind, he took my money and hurried off with his cart for another destination.
I shrugged and went about my business, window-shopping as I made my way down the main drag. I was marveling at how I'd made it this far without offending someone or starting a riot with my coarse language. I should have known that it was the calm before the storm.
Two blocks later, I rounded a corner and ran headlong into someone. Before I knew it my mouth had kicked into overdrive and had no intention of stopping any time soon. Clapping my hand over my mouth in a final attempt to stop the profanity, I felt myself pale at who I was looking at.
It was the blonde who'd taken care of me the night before. She looked perfect. Perfectly mortified.
"Shit fuck!" I exclaimed in a vain attempt at greeting her.
She raised a hand to her mouth in obvious offense. Her green eyes widened and I thought she was going to run the other way but by some miracle (or not) she stayed rooted to the spot.
Once again I put my hand over my mouth, waiting for the words to stop falling out before removing it.
"Hi," I finally managed, the first normal words I'd gotten out in almost five minutes.
She finally screamed in frustration and shoved past me, disappearing into a building several doors down.
I didn't dare follow her to try and apologize, knowing that the upset the whole conversation had caused me wouldn't be going anywhere any time soon.
╬Great,' I thought sardonically. ╬Another one charmed senseless.'
After that thoroughly mortifying incident I decided to call it quits for the day. I sat at home in front of the TV for the next thirty-six hours. At least Sally and Maury had some idea of what it was like to spend a day in my shoes.
When I was done feeling sorry for myself I went out to get something to eat. The one-eyed hot dog vendor ran as soon as he saw me, so I stopped at the Orange Julius just up the block from there. After being forcibly removed by an off-duty policeman I started thinking about suicide. I'd been dealing with this affliction for years and the weight of it all suddenly seemed to catch up with me. I couldn't hold a job for more than seven hours; I couldn't make and hold any friends without scaring them senseless in a matter of minutes; I couldn't even get something to eat without flapping at the mouth enough to get a normal person arrested for lewd and lascivious acts.
With hunched shoulders and a feeling of utter dejectedness I made my way back down the street, curses barely audible falling from my tongue. I knew they were there and that was enough for me. I passed my front door and continued on down the road. There was a bridge several mother-sucking blocks down the road and I had every intention of going to see the view.
After arriving and spending several hours marveling at the water passing under the bridge, I started home. I was so disgusted with myself that for once I couldn't even cuss. I couldn't believe that I didn't have the guts to throw my six foot frame over the edge and close my blue eyes forever.
Three days later my eye had finally healed enough that I thought I might be able to get a job. I searched through the local paper and finally decided on a labor company that dispatched the wayward jobless to various employers for a day or two until the job was done or they got fired. It was my lucky day and I got sent to a hotel as a maid since three of the regulars had called in.
After many profanities and a few hours later I'd finished the assignment I was given. On my way out of the last room I ran headlong into a familiar blonde. She gasped as I grabbed her to keep her from falling, then sucked in an angry breath when she realized who I was.
I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the room I'd just come out of, unable to bear the look of disdain in her eyes a minute longer. She opened her mouth to scream and I clamped my hand over it just before it was too late.
"Shit fuck!" I yelled at her.
╬Great,' I thought after the words had come out. ╬You sound like a broken record.'
"I- I'm sorry," I stammered. "Look, I don't mean to be so foul-mouthed, I just can't help it. Really I-"
She yanked my hand from her mouth with surprising strength for her short stature and I found myself reeling backwards from the intensity in her eyes.
"You don't mean it?! How dumb do you think I am? Huh? The only thing that ever comes out of your mouth is foul and I've had enough. Do you hear me? Don't ever touch or talk to me again. If you do, so help me I'll kick your mother-fucking ass!"
I couldn't help it. At those words I raised an eyebrow and smiled. Maybe all was not lost, considering she'd just cussed at me.
"What are you laughing at?" she screamed. "What's so funny? If I didn't know better I'd think you were some crazy Turrette's syndrome throwback that was stalking me. Now you better stand aside and let me go before I get really fucking mad!"
I didn't doubt for one minute that she'd get really mad. But what she'd just said touched my funny bone and I couldn't help but chuckle. That turned into a laugh, and from there it became hysterics.
She tried to shove past me but I grabbed her shoulders and held on for dear life. I couldn't let her go thinking I was crazy and laughing at her.
"Wait!" I finally managed to spit out. "I do have Turrette's."
I stared into her eyes, watching the emotions flicker through them. Disbelief, and finally, reluctantly, cautious consideration.
"I swear it."
"You really have Turrette's?" Her green eyes bore into me with more intensity than I could handle.
"Nut haired bullshit pile of fuck!" I cringed and looked at the sidewalk. "Yes," I answered meekly.
She cocked her head, regarding me warily before a smile crossed her lips. The smile turned into a full on grin and from there she began to chuckle.
"Turrette's huh? I always wanted to meet someone with Turrette's."
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