Brian thought he had everything together. Except one thing was off.
Brian could never shake off the feeling of longing and nostalgia, as if there was something that hadn't been delt with. Brian turned off the television, as the silence of his home made him feel uncomfortable. He walked up the carpeted steps, and dove into the closet, only to pull out a small box marked "Childhood Memories". He picked up the heavy box and headed into his bedroom, the box creating jingling noises. The box dropped onto the bed, dust particles flying everywhere. With one swing of his key, the duct tape seal was broken, and everything came back to him. He found pictures of his mother, father, and little brother at Disneyworld, old history reports he had completed in the fourth grade, some seven inch records that had been shattered. As he looked through, only a smile grew across his face. At the bottom of the box, it sat there silently. Brian's smile quickly faded away.
The box's bottom held a dirty black leather vest, torn sleeves and covered in various patches. It smelled like rotten milk and gas station bathroom. He picked it up, trembling at its' site. This was the vest that he had received from the monster underneath his bed when he was eleven. He dropped it on the floor, and stared violently at it. It has been years since Maurice last visited him. He wanted to do something. He wanted to get rid of it. However, he couldn't. As he grew older, Maurice left his mind completely. Maybe he had visited him a few times during his slumber, but Brian had never seen the blue punk in so long. The thought of them together again made him somewhat sad. He never had any friends after that day. His brother grew distant and the Thompsons moved away the next year. He could've become friends with the mullet kid, but he didn't want to associate himself with "The Kid from the Wizard."
Enough was enough. Brian couldn't take it. He wanted to feel loved. He wanted to feel what being with someone was like. He could not stop his raging erection. In a short moment's time, he found himself rubbing his erect member against the 20-year old vest. The coarseness of the leather made him even harder. One thing went through Brian's mind. The pants had to come off. He excitedly got off his belt and pants, hitting the floor in one fatal woosh. The impact startled the lonely man. He didn't care, though. He needed this like a baby needs milk. Brian grabbed his member, and started to, how did his dad put it. He started to "shake the soda."