An Ode to Old Playboy
It’s about four in the afternoon now when Tommy’s walking home from Thornton High School but he knows he really can’t go home just yet. He’s stepping along the sidewalk of a quiet, lonely street he’s never walked down before—Fairview Street. He slows his pace for a moment and then turns his head to the right to give a long hard look at the house next to him. It’s an older home, with faded yellow paint peeling off the wooden sidings. That’s when Tommy spots the bright red sign on the unkempt lawn between him and the house: FOR SALE. oh so its vacant, Tommy thinks to himself. He stands there on the cracked concrete of the sidewalk for a minute before he realizes that this empty house could be his home for a little while. He turns onto the pathway leading to the house and walks up the steps onto the empty porch. Tommy swings his backpack off his shoulder and sits down.
if joe hadnt been so fuckin stupid i wouldnt be in so much trouble why is he so fuckin dumb gettin caught with my porno magazine in class now dad knows i stole it from under his bed and moms gonna be pissed as hell ill get my ass beat and grounded and now i cant go to joes no more
There’s a thud. Tommy jerks his head towards the source of the sound – it came from inside the house. It’s silent again, now, but Tommy stands up. He swings his backpack back over his shoulder and steps towards the door. Slowly, he reaches his right hand out and tries to open the screen door without making a sound. It’s useless – the hinges are dried and rusted so the door lets out a harsh screech like a bird from hell. fuck it Tommy swings the screen door open and waits for something—anything—to make a noise from inside the house. Nothing. He goes for the rusted brass doorknob of the wooden, rotting red door standing between him and the interior. Another screech – this bird’s got a little more baritone, though.
It’s all dark inside. Without any furniture resting on the old carpet, the house looks like it’s been robbed but it’s the still air of the place—air smelling of old cheap paperback books—that reminds Tommy that house is simply vacant. No one here.
An empty house. Tommy’s imagination is running, now. what happened here what family lived here in these rooms what memories took place here Tommy decides to take a tour of all the rooms, making up memories and stories and families and friends to occupy all the emptiness. He walks from one to the next. There’s five rooms total: a living room, kitchen, and three bedrooms—all bare and lifeless. At the end of the house’s single hallway, Tommy stops and stands before the door of the last bedroom he has yet to enter. Funny—all the other doors have been open. He inhales, opens the door.
A boy. There by the corner Tommy sees the hunched back of a maroon-shirted boy probably half his age sitting Indian style. The sun’s been setting by now so only dim, gold sunlight floats in from the room’s single window onto the carpet and faded wallpaper. Tommy would’ve said the room felt hazel.
“What did momma say this time?” the boy asks with a careless voice.
“What?” Tommy says.
“Well, what the hell she say? Can I come home now or what?”
Tommy can’t respond. He stands there, still and wordless inside the jambs of the open door. The boy flicks his head around his right should to take a look at the person standing behind him. Tommy watches the boy’s pupils grow. The kid’s been talking to a stranger.
“who the fuck are you?” the boy asks.
A pause. “I heard some noise comin’ from inside this house. Ain’t no one supposed to be here” Tommy says.
“yeah and so you sure as hell ain’t ‘posed to be here either” the boy shot back.
Silence. Tommy’s not sure what to make of all this.
“why you in here?” Tommy asks.
“well, shit, like I said earlier, momma kicked me outta the house.”
“why?”
“I stole twenty dollars from her purse so that my older brother could buy us cigarettes.” Tommy didn’t know cigarettes where so expensive.
“what’s your name?” Tommy asks.
“Albert.”
“Albert what?”
“Einstein!”
“Get the fuck out of here!” Tommy jerks back and takes another look down the single hallway. “How long you been here?”
“since ‘bout one, I guess.”
“You find anything cool in here?”
“I just been sittin’ here waitin’ for my brother to get back.”
Tommy steps back out into hallway. Then he turns into the bedroom next to the one Albert’s in. He steps in, taking a second look at the closet.
“You got any cigarettes? I bet you got a few in that backpack” Albert asks from across the other room.
“Nope.” Tommy walks up closer to the closet. That’s when he finds a stack of magazines hidden in its dark corner. He kneels to read the title. PLAYBOY. holy shit what the fuck did i just find here Tommy freezes for a moment. Then he scrambles to grab the entire stack. these all better fit in my fuckin backpack i swear to god The ruffling of magazine pages echoes through the room. Albert steps in the room.
“what the hell is all that?” Albert asks. Tommy rushes to cram all the magazines into his navy JanSport backpack. They aren’t fitting in.
“Uh,” Tommy says, “it’s all books.”
“Lemme see”
“No it’s okay. They’re just, books. Old books. Old shit.”
“thems ain’t books!”
“No! Fuck you!” Tommy’s panic is clear now. “I found ‘em first!”
“lemme see ‘em! What the hell is all that!”
“You’s too young to look at ‘em! It’s for big people”
“Fuck you! You ain’t a big person!”
“just how old the fuck are you?”
“twenty-four!”
“you fuckin’ liar—”
A furious rapping, like iron striking steel, interrupts the two. It came from the living room—no—the front door. Tommy, still kneeling on the ground, goes silent, waits. He barely fits all the magazines into his backpack.
“who the fuck is that?” Albert whispers while pointing across the house to the front door.
“I don’t know.”
They keep still. Then Tommy and Albert hear the rapping again—BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM—nine angry knocks in rapid succession on the old wooden door. It sounded like it might break right in half.
“Thank GOD I locked the door behind me” Tommy says under his breath.
“it could be my brother.”
Tommy shrugs.
The two hover quietly into the living room. It’s nightfall now when Tommy and Albert realize that it’s in fact not Albert’s older brother pounding at the door. Strobing blue and red lights flash into the house from in front, lighting up the whole empty living room. The two look at each other in common fear, their faces morphing in shock from the blue then red then blue then red lights.
“the fuck we gonna do now?” Albert asks.
“I don’t fuckin’ know. We’ll have to go out back—sneak by ‘em.”
“Oh gawd. I need a cigarette.”
Tommy leads Albert to the backdoor in the kitchen. He motions for Albert to stay in place while he takes a peep into the backyard from the window by the sink.
“No one’s there,” Tommy reports. “We’ll just slip on through there then make a run for the park—ya know the one by Singer Elementary?”
“yeah, I know the one. I lost my virginity there—in that big green plastic slide, ya know the one?”
“oh shut the fuck up, kid.” Tommy pushes open the backdoor and slowly steps through into the dark backyard. Albert follows after him. They step off the tiny little concrete porch and onto the tall grass of the backyard lawn. They’ll need to hop over an old, leaning chain-link fence and then rush down an alley and across four blocks before they reach the safety of the park. Tommy walks up to the fence.
“here, I’ll lift you on over” Tommy says, reaching his arms out to pick up Albert.
“fuck off! I can do it myself”
“alright you little bitch—”
A voice charges from behind them: “You two! Stop!”
okay fuck this kid thinks Tommy. He leaps over the chain-link fence and makes the dash down the alley. He has trouble running with his JanSport backpack swinging side to side behind him, but there’s no way he’s going to let himself get caught with a new stack of Playboy magazines by both the police and his parents – again. Tommy’s heart pounds along with every strike his feet make when they slam into the hard asphalt beneath him in the alley. He feels himself move faster through time with every stride.
Out of the alley now, Tommy jumps right onto Northridge Street—the park is just four blocks away. There’s some relief when he emerged from the alley to find no blue and red lights around but he keeps up his quick pace. Only a few sporadic streetlights, porchlights, and lit windows help guide Tommy down to the park but it’s that cold air of the October night that starts to burn up his lungs. He starts to feel that awkward cold sweat run down his neck, now, too
He makes it. There’s no lights around but Tommy can still see his warm breath steam in the dark of the park. No one’s there to hear him heave. Tommy climbs up a platform, pulls his backpack off then hunches over to take a look into the mouth of the big green plastic slide where Albert said he lost his virginity. that fuckin dumbass i bet hes asking the cop for cigarettes too He wiggles himself in.
For five minutes Tommy rests there in the slide. His lungs burn like hell and every breath he takes feels like a punch to the chest. Slowly, he calms down and his sweat dries up. Everything starts to feel smooth again. A moment passes, then he unzips his backpack to take a look at his treasure. fuckin finally He pulls out a single magazine and strains to read the text next to the blondie on the cover: 2007 Playmate of the year – Sweet & Sexy Sara Jean Underwood. Tommy flips to the center. Warm blood rushes down his torso, through his groin and into his crotch. holy fuck shes the prettiest thing ive ever seen that smile those eyes those tits that ass holy hell i bet joe aint found a better girl than this shes amazing perfect
He doesn’t notice the cop climb up the platform and stick his face into the slide.
“Alright, kiddo, let’s go” The face says with a bodiless, nameless voice.
Tommy slowly raises his eyes from Sara’s breasts and to the cop’s head on his left. awWwwWW FUUUCCKKKKkkingggg HEEELLLLLLLLL
The cop leads Tommy to the cruiser parked on the street in front of the park. Tommy waits for the cop to open the door so he can step in. Seated inside: Albert. Tommy makes a face like the Chicago Bulls logo.
“You little bitch!” Tommy says. “He took ‘em all!”
Albert grins.
“And NO I ain’t got any fuckin’ cigarettes, before you ask.”
Albert howls.
a young writer from the lone star state 