Cat’s Meow~~May special~~Mayfly by Kenneth Weene #mayfly

Cat's Meow Reviews That purr books

Hi, Y’all! Welcome back to Cat’s Meow! I have a special treat for you all today. My dear friend Kenneth Weene has written a story especially for us.

Hi, Y’all! Welcome back to Cat’s Meow! I have a special treat for you all today. My dear friend Kenneth Weene has written a story especially for us.

desk logo

Mayfly by Kenneth Weene

Dedicated to Mayflies everywhere;

driven by one primal urge and doomed to its too quick fulfillment.

 

He checked his watch. Two forty-five. Damn! Careful to smile, Hector Fragon took a selfie video of the line extending behind him. “Line, line, line. Enough! #college #registration #amwaiting”

“What a waste,” Hector said to the guy in front of him. “This line’s too much; I got stuff to do.”

“Like I don’t,” the taller young man answered; “but we got to register.”

There was a slight move ahead and the two shuffled forward.

I’ve been here forever and I’m still not inside the gym. Should have listened to Mom and gotten here early.

Hector looked over his shoulder.

Hell, look at those fools even later than me. The line must go all the way out to the river.

The Myrtle River flowed right through campus. “It use to smell,” the student guide had told them during the tour. “Like the school, it’s been cleaned up. Now you can even swim in it.”

“That’s wonderful,” Hector’s mother had replied and smiled. She wanted her boy to stay close to home and Myrtle College was perfect in her eyes—ten miles and he could come home weekends.

Yeah, right, Mom, come home. Not happening. Tell her, Dad.

Of course, he knew that Dad wouldn’t say anything; Dad never did.

“What’s the chick situation?” Hector asked when he could whisper to the guide. “Are there enough to go around?”

“Yeah, man, don’t worry. Fifty-five percent so more than enough.”

Hector poked him in the ribs and added, “Don’t tell my old lady I asked.” The young man who had introduced himself as Larry, a sophomore and receiving financial assistance; hence the job as tour guide and having to wear the dumb blue blazer with the school’s insignia—two large bugs seemingly kissing and the motto in Latin that translated, at least according to Larry, to “Making Love of Life Possible.”

At least Mom had agreed to college even if it was only ten miles from home, and Hector was feeling the urge to get college life going. Standing in line for hours was definitely not on his agenda, not on a beautiful May day.

May was made for lovers. Maypoles and dancing. Dancing and making love. Making love and then…

He poked the taller boy. “You know where the girls hang?”

The young man took in the line with a broad-handed gesture. “Look around you.”

“Yeah, I know, but afterwards, where we can hook up.”

“I wish I knew. I just got here, too.”

“Yeah,” Hector sighed in agreement and frustration.

The line shuffled two feet closer to their destination. “This sucks.”

“Yeah,” the taller boy echoed.

“Let’s split.” Hector wanted to get out of line, wanted to get about his business, about his real business, the business of finding girls. He wanted to, but he didn’t quite dare, not unless somebody, anybody agreed. After all, he didn’t want to look like an idiot. He held his breath and waited for the other guy’s response.

“I don’t know. I mean what if we can’t register. What if we don’t get into class and have to go…home?” The last word pronounced in a sinister whisper.

“Come back later. This line will take forever. We’ll just be the last names through the computer instead of being lost in the middle.”

“Yeah, but where?”

Hector remembered something Larry had said. One of the other guys in the tour group, a real stud, played football he said, had asked, “How’s the fishing around here?”

“Good,” Larry had replied. “There are lots of fish along the river, almost like they’re waiting to jump your pole.”

“By the river?”

“You think?”

“I know!” Hector puffed himself with assurance.

I knew it.

Hector recognized the girl at once. She had been part of that campus tour. “What a beauty,” he had thought then as he looked her over. He remembered: Tightfitting blue blouse sweater highlighting boobs that sent blood surging downward; Short brown hair that demanded the touch of his fingers; A quick smile that filled him with doubt and reassurance; Her mouth as sweet as any appetite might desire.

Damn, wish I got her name.

“Hi,” he said as he strode towards her. “Remember me?”

“Not really.”

“The campus tour.”

“Oh, yeah. How you doing?”

“Great. You?”

Did I brush my teeth this morning? Hope I’m not too sweaty. What can I say?” A wave of thoughts tumbled through his head, but always on the top, Will she? Won’t she? Will she?

“Finished registering?” he asked hoping she would say no and they could talk about the stupid, endless line.

“Sure.” Her voice had the purr of a contented cat. “I got here last night, stayed in the hotel. Fifth in line this morning. What about you?”

Fifth in line, wow. I guess she’s serious about school. I’d better… Lie. Yeah. I guess…

“Well, not fifth, but I’m done. Made it before the big push. You should see that line. Glad it’s over; too nice a day.”

“So, what are you going to do with it?” Her dark green eyes smiled.

“Spend it with you.” The words ejaculated from his mouth.

“Okay.”

Okay. Okay. The word sang in his heart.

Hand in hand they walked along the river. The afternoon flowed with the water. They sat on the bank kissing and stroking and talking about movies and bands and plans—real and fictitious—for the semester that was just beginning, for the future that neither knew.

The sun, with a burst of orange, settled behind the trees. Hector bent forward to kiss her sweet lips.

Far away, the gym doors closed behind the last registering freshman. Only that night, walking her back to campus, asking if they could meet-up in the morning, telling her that he knew, absolutely knew that he was in love, did Hector realize that he was totally screwed.

 

 

Meet Kenneth

haircut

With a sense of irony and a deep love for the foibles of people, Ken Weene writes novels, short stories, essays and poetry. He says, “As long as my pen keeps working, I know that I’m still alive.” For that reason, he is always delighted to share a new story or commentary on any blog that will have him. As co-host of It Matters Radio, he reaches out to the world with his humor and warmth. Ken hopes that you enjoy his books in print, e-format, and audible.

AssylumTimes to try the soul of man

I hope you enjoyed this short story. I sure did. Poor Hector!

And don’t forget—if you can dream it~~you can do it.

Comments

  1. I began to feel the sense of doom when Hector spotted the girl, and was hoping for a miracle at the end. Weene did a super job creating believable characters in such a short piece.

  2. What a nice treat! Well, he’s right– May is for lovers, and I love the ending! Poor guy.

  3. It is a pleasure to share my writing with Cathy’s friends and followers. I hope you’ve been inspired to visit my web site.

Speak Your Mind

*

Follow

Follow this blog

Get every new post delivered right to your inbox.

Email address