2. The Deer and the Truck
Meeting Karl's eyes with his own, Marty stumble back and lost his balance landing on the floor with a dull thud. Karl, struck with a feeling of mild confusion, held his hand out to Marty in a silent gesture of help. Marty looked at Karl's hand wearily, not quite sure if he wanted to take the hand that hand done so much more that want to help him up in his dream. Marty hesitated, but then reluctantly rose his hand up, accepting the offer of help.
"Sorry Marty,", Karl spoke, a big happy grin spreading across his face as if everything in the world that day was wonderful. "I didn't mean to scare ya...I didn't know I was scary."
Marty forced a laugh, " Oh yeah, you're real scary, grr argh." Marty wanted to hit his head against a wall, he could feel waves of discomfort generating off himself. He was standing in front of the guy who he had just had a intense sexual dream about, that he unadmittedly enjoyed, and was feeling pretty awkward. He was pretty sure Karl could see it too. Albeit, Karl was a little thick, after all he was a jock, but Marty knew that no one was that dense. Marty wished he could jab a fork into his right frontal lobe and feed it to a near by cannibal 'cause just as his brain had told him, he noticed Karl looking at him, head slightly titled with a small look of concern in his eyes.
"You ok Marty? You look a little tense.", Karl said while Marty stood there with a slight fidget.
Marty stuffed his hands into his pockets, "I'm fine, I'm just...tired.", at that Marty pushed past Karl hurriedly.
Karl shrugged, "Ok. See you later.". Karl then walked off to get something to eat.
Marty walked to the balcony stairs. He climbed them and sat the little table. Instead of a wall, he hit his head on the table about five times. In between the sounds of hitting his head on the table he spoke words, "What * is * wrong * with * me! *". After the final clunk, he rested his forehead on the table. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he'd be thinking about men, Karl, in that way. Even if it was in his subconscious. But the fact that he was having those thoughts and images in any form was causing him brain pain. He sat up there for a good ten minutes contemplating reasons for his brain's sexual fantasy malfunction. "Maybe I had some bad blood the night before.", he muttered to himself. Then he thought maybe The Fury had something to do with it, maybe they had cast a spell on him. He then realized that the more he began to think of reasons, the more stupid and inane they got. Deep down he like the content of the dream, though admitting it was not an option. He decided that he couldn't take it anymore, he had to talk to someone. So at that he got up and went in search of a make-shift therapist.
Meeting Karl's eyes with his own, Marty stumble back and lost his balance landing on the floor with a dull thud. Karl, struck with a feeling of mild confusion, held his hand out to Marty in a silent gesture of help. Marty looked at Karl's hand wearily, not quite sure if he wanted to take the hand that hand done so much more that want to help him up in his dream. Marty hesitated, but then reluctantly rose his hand up, accepting the offer of help.
"Sorry Marty,", Karl spoke, a big happy grin spreading across his face as if everything in the world that day was wonderful. "I didn't mean to scare ya...I didn't know I was scary."
Marty forced a laugh, " Oh yeah, you're real scary, grr argh." Marty wanted to hit his head against a wall, he could feel waves of discomfort generating off himself. He was standing in front of the guy who he had just had a intense sexual dream about, that he unadmittedly enjoyed, and was feeling pretty awkward. He was pretty sure Karl could see it too. Albeit, Karl was a little thick, after all he was a jock, but Marty knew that no one was that dense. Marty wished he could jab a fork into his right frontal lobe and feed it to a near by cannibal 'cause just as his brain had told him, he noticed Karl looking at him, head slightly titled with a small look of concern in his eyes.
"You ok Marty? You look a little tense.", Karl said while Marty stood there with a slight fidget.
Marty stuffed his hands into his pockets, "I'm fine, I'm just...tired.", at that Marty pushed past Karl hurriedly.
Karl shrugged, "Ok. See you later.". Karl then walked off to get something to eat.
Marty walked to the balcony stairs. He climbed them and sat the little table. Instead of a wall, he hit his head on the table about five times. In between the sounds of hitting his head on the table he spoke words, "What * is * wrong * with * me! *". After the final clunk, he rested his forehead on the table. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he'd be thinking about men, Karl, in that way. Even if it was in his subconscious. But the fact that he was having those thoughts and images in any form was causing him brain pain. He sat up there for a good ten minutes contemplating reasons for his brain's sexual fantasy malfunction. "Maybe I had some bad blood the night before.", he muttered to himself. Then he thought maybe The Fury had something to do with it, maybe they had cast a spell on him. He then realized that the more he began to think of reasons, the more stupid and inane they got. Deep down he like the content of the dream, though admitting it was not an option. He decided that he couldn't take it anymore, he had to talk to someone. So at that he got up and went in search of a make-shift therapist.