The Tumultous '60s
She was staring out the window, at the blue sky. She had just finished the newly recommended romance novel, Number One on the Romance Times, called Land Of Peace and Goldfish. Yet she could not move her hand to turn the final page. Frusturated, she squirmed and emitted a high-pitched wail, shattering the nearest light bulb. Fortunately, the book had flown across the room, leaving only the last page to read.
"And so the Goldfish was crowned King. The End." She sighed. What a lovely book. Looking out the window again she absently noted that the sky was no longer blue but a faded jet black, and it was snowing rather hard.
Snowing? In California? How inconvenient! She sniffed indignantly.
"Tiger?" A familiar voice cooed. Tiger licked herself. "Yes, mother?"
"May I come in?" Her mother's voice was pleading behind the think wood-panel of the door. Tiger felt her gut wrench in guilt, suddenly feeling pity for her poor mother, trapped behind the door Tiger had required, separating the nothingness of air around it.
"You may." Tiger settled back into the cocoon on blankets and looked up at the approaching figure, hazy in the light outlining her. It seemed to her, even though she could not see her mother, that she was wearing some sort of dress, as if she had a reason to put thought into her outfits like she used to.
Tiger's mom stood firmly in the doorway in a pretty, sensible, yellow sundress. She wore an apron around her lithe waist and her icicle like eyes were set off by the cornflower blue sunflowers on it.
"Mom!" Tiger exclaimed in a rare bout of approval, as she stepped through the doorway into the abundant light of the room. Tiger noted that she must have bathed, which she only did once or twice a month, and only when it was completely necessary. "You look…" She searched her vocabularly for the words that would correctly fit the unusual situation "Well groomed." She finished lamely.
Tiger's mom's grin was almost dangerous, her feline teeth flashing in the reflected light. Her white lashed eyes were wide and her large pupils were snake-like slits of black against the cold cold blue. She licked her paw and reached behind her ear with her hind leg. Her white hair was well brushed and, Tiger assumed, picked for fleas.
"Tab's coming over." Her mom said, tail flicking in amusement, and an uncalled for purr vibrating her graceful presence. "For dinner, and you're not to disturb us." Her mother put her paws on her hips and Tiger watched the glint of her claws. She barely swallowed her gulp.
"What will I eaaaat?" She whined, seemingly oblivious to the fact that there was an abnormally large cat in her doorway in a threatening position, looming over her.
Her mother yawned, and yards of pink toungue rolled from her mouth delicately, as her ears flattened against her skull unintentionally. Tiger noticed the white hairs on her tongue.
"Well, as you well know, I can't afford any 'fancy feast'," her mother mewed at her own wit and continued "So…" She set down a bowl of meow mix near the pile of blankets and stroked Tiger's head lovingly. Tiger purred and arched her back under the rough texture of her paws. Her mother chuckled and went away, leaving Tiger alone. Tiger sniffed and noticed the saucer of milk her mother her left for her, chilled too, just like she liked it. She mewed herself and then leaped gracefully off the bed in an umistakable feline movement.
She went to the bowl of food and took a daring bite. She discovered, with no lack for digust, that it was liver flavored. Sighing, she peeked out the small crack in the doorway and noticed that Tab had arrived and was sitting at one head of the small dining room table, licking his paws and purring with contentment, his eyes shut in the revelry or delicacies. She noticed, also, that there was a goldfish bowl in the middle of the table… an empty one.
"Frank! And Borris!" She didn't feel too much remorse, as she'd planned a similar ending herself. Tiger sighed, noting to herself the unfairness of her cold, snowed-in, liver-flavored, gold-fish-less life. She mewed in agony, and several dogs began to bark at her window…
Tiger jerked awake. "What the--" Her head seemed to sway unpleasantly and her stomach lurched in grumbled, contradicting itself in so many ways that she clutched it as if that were the answer to solving her problems. "What the hell?" She repeated, jerking around and noticing the rickety lurch of the ride and the scattered candy wrappers carelessly strewn about the floor. Not to mention the pungent smell of marijuana. She squeezed her eyes shut, momentarily lost. Her mom… a cat? No, no, that had been a dream… hopefully. Goddamn smoking always had that side-effect on her, she remembered with sudden clarity, and chuckled as if the situation were actually quite funny.
"T-i-i-ggggeeerrrrr" A voice wheedled, surprisingly close to her face, with a small burst of warm air on her cheeks and a lock of her trying conspicuously to slip inside her mouth. She tried not to sputter, at least for now, as she tried frantically to place where exactly she was.
She wondered vaguely if she could feign sleep for much longer, to figure out exactly what kind of people she was with, and if she had willingly gone with them, and if so… why?
'Free weed… duh.' A voice inside her head lectured. Oh yea…
She heard her stomach rumble and she innerly groaned, sure that most everyone in the van must have heard it. She needed something to eat. But not something that would in any way upset her stomach…
As if someone had been reading her own thoughts they suddenly shouted frantically to be heard above all the 'noise' they thought must have been going on but were mistaken. As far as Tiger could tell, as she strained her ears to hear, there was absolutely no loud noises whatsoever. Just a few murmuring voices whispering soft innuendos and murmured endearments to whomever happened to be on their lap at the time. The situation rang all to clearly in Tiger's mind and she wondered frantically why. She didn't get the chance to question herself though as the anonymous breather made herself content and continued to observe Tiger's peaceful state.
Tiger wanted to scream.
"Oh! Oh! Wendy's pllleeeaasseeee!" Someone pleaded with an annoying tenacity that, in spite of everything, Tiger had to grudgingly admire. "Come on Joey, I could kill for some frenchies. And a frosty." The frantic edge in her voice died away on a fit of giggles. Tiger dared not open one eye. Who the hell were these people? And how did they know her nickname?
To her left someone was smacking gum in peace, grape-flavored, Tiger guessed, as the familiar smell made her nostrils quiver. "Oh, hey guys check this out!" The gum smacker said between attempts to blow a bubble. Tiger cocked her ear imperceptibly to listen as the sound of glossy magazine pages being flipped and ripped carelessly, to get to the good part, echoed in her ears. Fortunately the loud gum smacker had been a girl, so she could expect none of the leering male appreciation of the female body unclothed (and airbrushed!) that you would most typically find in any self-respecting drugstore, hidden beneath the many candies and honey-buns. The thought of honey-buns made her mouth water.
Caught in a far more interesting position, the breather backed away and went to inspect the gum-smackers magazine. Tiger heard the struggle and a soft curse. She bit her lip to keep from giggling, and then went on to listen as the fight ended and the winner took a big breath to begin her triumphant recitatation of the article that all girls must now have taped to their walls for extra security…
'What's Stopping You From Climaxing?' A familiar voice read aloud. Tiger heard the smile in her voice, even as she frantically skimmed it with her eyes, as any smart woman would do. Sometimes romance novels just did not cut it. Sometimes guys didn't either. This article was definitely a must-read… er, or so Tiger thought the girls must be thinking, she consoled herself quickly, even as she tuned in to listen. The girl opened her mouth to speak when suddenly the Volkswagon van took a sharp turn and Tiger was lurched from her seat. There were a few angry shouts, and at the commotion Tiger's all-knowing piering hazel gaze opened, and she met with the smirking mouth of an old arch-nemesis.
"Hey Ash," He said calmly, flicking the blonde hair out of his eyes and smiling was exaggerated ease, his grey eyes roaming her body.
She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by an excited squeal and thump.
"You're awake!" She said, grinning and looking down at her. "Now we can have some fun." Tiger groaned. She didn't know if she could handle anymore fun.
Katherine Conners lounged in the passenger seat of the monstrosity, back in those days 'the Love Bug', and stared aimlessly out the dirty glass window, her chin perched in her hand. She looked almost troubled, but her reflection smiled subtly back at her. She was watching the countryside pass her by lazily, a grin on her face. It was so fitting. To be out of the smog and the city-limits, she felt she could be in touch with the mother here. She wondered how long it would take to get to Bethel, New York.
No longer did she saw the false bravado of the palm trees lining the avenue, she no longer saw the many decorative gaudy signs and those that looked down at her with something ridiculously close to shame.
Away from the fashionable city-goers, laughing too loud to cover the fact that theirs was not a designer dress, smiling flirtatiously at the boys that passed them, and walking off indignantly when those same boys came to talk to them. She snorted in disgust at the thought.
She had yet to do that to someone. Of course, she was 17 and she was hardly inexperienced but yet… she felt as if there was something that she was missing, some certain part of life that she was going to end up passing by if she didn't slow down soon and take it all in.
The thought depressed her, because she was all against racing against time and making up for her parents conservative, spotless record with her own prostests and riots. She had yet to succumb to authority, and she did not intend to begin anytime soon.
Hadn't it been she who had spit in that ignorant officers gleaming eyes? Hah. It sure had been, and she wouldn't change that fact for anything.
She was certainly not like many of the other girls, all preening in their lovely sundresses, made to lie in the meadows in, but instead infected by pollution and the ravishing thoughts of all ill-mannered young and old people. She shuddered at the thought and was grateful for her own baggy shirt and tight, ripped bell bottom jeans.
She looked over at Steve, his profile etched with the sun's generous pastels. He was wearing his hair long nowadays, and she had seen many of her friends sigh with longing as he walked past them with his long, self-assured strides. Of course, she knew how that felt. She too had had a crush on Steve, about 4 years ago, when first they met.
The memory made her smile, as she remembered the part where she had relentlessly drawn back her hand and delivered him one hell of a satisfying slap. Still, she felt a but guilty sometimes about it. After all, he hadn't really done anything wrong, just looked over at the street and whistled appreciatively at some blonde bimbo walking past in a dress far too short. And just before she was about to tell him she liked him too! Thankfully, after the awkward tension between them, they had resumed their friendship and continued on as normal. Right. Normal. Except…
Except, was it her imagination, or had he been checking her out when she had stepped out of the lake yesterday?
As if sensing her intense gaze, Steve looked over at her and smiled brightly, his face all sunshine and innocence. Inwardly she sighed with relief.
"Hey, you" He said softly, his brown eyes shining down at her. He remembered a time when she had once towered over him, at the peak of her height at 5'5". Now it was he who towered over her, at 6'2".
He gazed down at her, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to look at his blossomed young friend. Her long dark hair was midback, and her eyes were the innocent green of untouched moss, and they were fanned by long curling lashes. Even in her ripped jeans, and her somewhat baggy tshirt, she stil held a certain elegance he feared he could not penetrate. Just a few days ago her skin had been the color of pearls, but with all the stopping they'd been doing lately it was the burnished tan of a typical California girl, and the tan only set out to enhance the roseyness of her soft, lush mouth.
He groaned with restraint and tightened his hand on the wheels, willing himself to look away. What was wrong with him? This was his best friend, his Kit-Kat. And he… he… he couldn't seem to stop the vision of tan legs intwined, the panting breath of eagerness, their damp, sweat-slicked bodies…
His hands were slicked with sweat, and he jerked into the next lane, thankful that there was no one to honk a painfully loud horn and flip him off, even though he deserved it.
"Stevie?" She had put a hand on his arm, and was gazing up at him in concern. She was so close he could see the flush in her cheeks, her parted mouth looked so deliciously tempting, and he wondered briefly what would happen if he were just to lean over and envelope her within his own arms, part her mouth and taste her essence...
"You'd run the damn thing off the road, that's what'd happen you idiot." He said.
"What?" She had backed away now, and was looking at him as if her were indeed some sort of raving lunatic. "Are you ok? Need me to take over?" Her tone was too gentle, too inviting.
"Godda-" Before he could finish a loud squeak interrupted him, and then the familiar sound of a cursing voice and soft, mocking laughter.
"That's Tiger, you should go see what's wrong." He said, his voice husky. She lingered for a moment, wondering at the sudden brackets around his mouth and the angry furrow in his brow, then she shrugged and left him alone.
He blew out a thankful breath, and prayed that something along the way would distract him, and maybe save him, from temptation. 'Deliver us from temptation…' or was it deliver us from evil? The former seemed more right at the moment, so he contented himself with thoughts of the rainstorm that seemed to be drawing dangerously nearer...
Ok, if you object to pot, sorry dudes, but this IS the '60s. ;-) Remember, I NEED MORE PEOPLE!