"Fill my heart with song"

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Fly me to the moon Let me play among the stars Let me see what spring is like On a-Jupiter and Mars In other words, hold my hand In other words, baby, kiss me - Frank Sinatra.

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Dim lighting flickered with each step I made. "Too lazy to change that the light bulb…" I mumbled- squinting towards the ceiling at the nearly burnt out light bulb as it dangled from its cord in the center of my cluttered room.

I was now attempting to create a 'walk-way' through all the useless junk, I dragged my dirty clothes with my bare feet to a corner, colliding into what seems to be a coke-cola can collection, all practically crushed, since I pretended or thought I was 'macho-man', you know, crumbling the soda can in my fist- but as it turned out I wasn't so "macho" after all, I could only slightly bent them.

"I drank all the soda for nothing." I sighed.

And to top it off, put the icing on the cake- I couldn't stop burping all that day when I got to school– take it from me, that was embarrassing. The one time the Gor-man wins over a doll's affections- I have to be erupting out "Coke-Cola" breath and the dreaded toxic, 'Tuesday Tuna Surprise' comments of Hill Ridge's low-budget cafeteria I knew it now, I should have just starved myself . The sketch is a girl was asking me; yes, me Gordo, to go steady with her. Picture it: the lunch table;

Her eyes fixated on her Styrofoam lunch tray, eye contact is rare when you feel instant rejection is order.
"Gordo, ah, I mean... I kinda-um-well, was wondering if ... "she was stammer on each word, I was beginning to think she didn't know what she was trying to say.

She just nervously stared up at me- she was pretty miniscule – but then again, I shouldn't talk, half the girls in the Hill Ridge population were long-legged. She just kept up this stark gaze, with those ol' blue eyes. Much likes Sinatra's eyes-- - but since she was a girl more on Nancy Sinatra tendencies.

I didn't know what to say, nor did I speak the optic language. New flash: I can't hold a conversation with an eye ball. I quirked my eyebrow "Wondering, what?" not to sound rude- She restive fingered her auburn hair and bit her lip, "... As was just asking if –ah-" -- We all knew her fragment would end with 'go to the movies with me' or something on the lines of that. Instead of saving the girl drowning in her own words like Cary Grant, a tasteful belched escaped out of my mouth. With that burp, in that moment, everyone had signally turned, jocks, "punks" poseurs, cheer leaders, all cliques alike transfix at the display of an absolute nerd and his lady.

--- --- ---- -- - - Needless to say, she ran.

Now I know this might sound heartless, but I never even knew this girls name- we had some conversations in 'videography class', but that was the end of it. The one girl who showed me a bit of interest in my freshmen year was gone in a flash...

Blink. I hazily focused my eyes. 'I need to vacuum my rug..." I groggily murmured. I wasn't quite sure how I ended up on floor. A Trip down memory lane is more boring then I thought. It sure sent me to sleep. I indolently began the movement possess. Gotta get the blood circulating', I began to stretch my arms and yet out a cliché yawn with that motion. I rubbed the back of head and my dark curls sprung out like springs. I had a well keep white boy afro, thanks to Pantene Pro-V. Forget 'product' I've got the shampoo girls die for.

I shook my head at my tipsy heaps of VHS's and my use of the word "tipsy" huddling my VCR, just waiting to be played, "What's this!" not only they were disorderly, they were out of there alphabetical order," Miranda how many times do I have to tell you.." I growled as I rummaged through the videos.

"'C' stands for Casablanca," I was sorting the C's angrily.

You see, Miranda and I have "movie night" at least every Thursday since high school had started. Our dear pal Lizzie, I gyrated my eyes, isn't really into anything black and white or of good taste.

The reality is Lizzie Maguire drifted form us. It really wasn't such bolt from the blue; she was built blond with highlights. Barbie had a line of G.I Joes, Nsync puppets and kens waiting to court her by the time she reached homeroom, freshmen year. Lizzie was promptly accepted into elite society known as "popularity".

Miranda and I saw less and of less of the Lizzie McGuire. Via sophomore year I never saw her, she use to have the common courtesy of smiling, but now, we don't even deserve that.

Miranda plays it off like she doesn't care, even thought I know at times she craves desperately to dish and exchange advice with Lizzie on boys.

I singled out a copy of "How to stuff a wild bikini" I shook my head, this sexist picture made in the 1960's. One of the last movies 'not so silent anymore' Buster Kenton was in. It was depressing to see him struggle through his lines. Meh, I think I'll pop this on in tonight!

I stood up and examined my place of abode with narrowed judgment. I shrugged and drag the remaining wreckage under my bed. Who did I have to impress, not like Miss. Lizzie Maguire would be gracing us with her presence.

"Under the bed, Gordo, c'mon there's a whole closet to explore" she snickered at her remark.

Evidently this feminine voice was Miranda, the only girl that would visit me out of school. Miranda casually strolled in my bedroom like she'd be my obnoxious 'roomy' later in life. She plopped down on my scruffy bed and bounced a little in place. That mattress isn't getting any younger – fully equip with rusty springs and a frayed starry indigo comforter.
Miranda guffawed as she traced a star with her finger," Gordo, as if new sheets ever hurt anyone"

I rolled my eyes, I had quite a habit of that, "Ah, sure, I'll get on that, it's on the top of my to-do list" I gagged. Seriously like I be bothered, I've had them since, what, middle school?

"Since we have nothing to do on a Saturday night, I figured why not 'Movie night' tonight... again" Miranda wistfully pleaded.

Ha, we she says. More like me, Miranda had no dates lined up for the night.

I sighed into what became a smirk," Or perhaps Miranda didn't get asked out this weekend?" It was candidly harsh, I had to admit – but hey, I was the last resort on the 'interact list'. Now that is just plain pathetic.

Miranda elbowed my arm, she was constantly elbowing something. "Ouch. I'm lover not a fighter, remember, Miranda?" I clutched my arm.

"I must have forgotten that, Gordo" she scoffed. She fractiously crossed her arms," Is it so outta this world for me to hang with one of my best friends? Or am I an alien with three heads?" she pursed her glossily cherry lips. She did always have a thing for cherries. I observed her jewelry constantly resembled those girlie berries.

"Only the two today" I teased, things were getting uncomfortable," Look, Miranda, I was being 'Defensive Gordo'… the worst superhero ever" Why did everything have to be humored up with me?

"Apparently so, Gordo" she wasn't caving in with apologies. She wasn't making any eye contact, that's not a bright neon sign. What would that motel indication say? -No vacancy -No petty fights.

She yanked on her plaid shirt and apprehensively began plucking at her fishnets. I attempted to imagine what was on her mind. Was it "Defensive Gordo" or maybe, the detail, that she didn't have a rendezvous tonight?
Great, it was unavoidable; I was going and willing to take part of a 'girl talk'

The idea of 'girl talk' just stings like Thai food in your mouth, I mean, I have a soft spot for cultural experiences after all. "Miranda... why didn't you and Andy meets up with each other?" I was now prying into her love life, smooth moves I got. Miranda eyes finally met up with mine, not like Andy Ryan, 'punk of the year' who permanently lived in circa '76 with Sid Vicious. He had pink mo-hock and didn't know what anarchy quite was, but he was all for it. 'Die for your Government' is what he recited down the halls with his pants off. Miranda was drawn in like a moth to a flame after that stunt and she became "Andy's girl".

Miranda bit her quivering lip and swallowed," Like he said, he said... You are Nancy and I am Sid and I just stabbed you and I was like..." she was whimpering now, "What and he was all like, like, it's time we see new people"

He let her down with a bit history from the sex pistols?

What to say, I have no inkling, so I bewilderingly and awkwardly consigned my boney arms around her and constricted; a hug. I had zilch to say about anything and I knew nothing I supposed could help.

In other words, hold my hand.