Broken Pattern

Indian Summer

I arrive at my friend Turner’s house at eight since that’s the time he told me he’d be home. When I get there, his mother opens to door and is rather surprised to see me. Why? She had no idea I was coming over. I sat down to a ¾ finished dinner with Turner’s parents and their friends, and not surprisingly, I had an amazing time. The food was great and the discussions were even better. The whole night all five of us (me being the youngest by at least thirty years) shared stories, laughed hysterically and just had a generally amazing time. When Turner finally came home at ten, I didn’t want to leave the table.

Whenever you hang out with Turner in his neighborhood, you also hang out with his neighbor, Spencer. His nickname is Spenis so I call him Spagina. Turner and Spencer should get married for the sole reason of being a couple. They can have other families or girlfriends on the side but they work so well together that it’d be a shame for them not to be wed.

I love how when you’re fifteen or sixteen and couples around you have been going out for a year you immediately expect them to be having sex, though when two people form a relationship at that age the idea barely crosses your mind.

Last Sunday Broken Pattern got eighty visits. Now, I check a decent amount when I’m editing it just because I have no idea how the thing works, but I can’t account for all eighty visits, maybe six or so, but definitely not eighty. I figure it’s all those students procrastinating during a late Sunday afternoon so they think to themselves “Fuck it, I’ll check out the damn site” since I advertise it ever so minimally. And so they open up their internet, type in the site, look at it, say “fuck it” and close it. It’s not being read, there’s way too many words. That’s where I get my eighty visits.