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I wish I could have a woman like her, though. I wouldn't have to spend most of my time chasing down something that might never be; The things I'd do with her and she with me. Man! I wish I could have a woman like her! If only for a day, at least... The film ended and I looked at the clock on my bedside reading half past 1:00. It was Friday night/early Saturday morning; I didn't have anything going on, but I still didn't care to wake up at noon. I resigned myself to sleep, secretly wishing on the inside, but losing hope quickly. Nah, it'll never happen. As I woke up the next morning, I felt someone shake me on the shoulder lightly. Five more minutes, Casey. It wasn't until then that I remembered that Casey, my sister, was on a business trip in Colorado for a week, and opened my eyes to find myself looking at a woman with eyes green as emeralds looking back at me. I jumped slightly out of fright that there was a strange woman in my house and she jumped back a little at hearing me gasp.. That silent, grotesque lump of God-given clay yet to be molded, for all hope, to die in the dust with the humming of the cortex, those strange fibers of consciousness wrestling angsty teenage love, my sweet Kimberly... she'd dated someone I'd thought my friend. Society's law kept me from killing him. I would wake up in the night and punch the floor in anguish, homoerotic fear and shame... I killed him a thousand times over in my mind.... His form extinguished by the hood of my car raging into him outside of his jock club, the mma fighting club where I'd first gotten homoerotic thoughts about him. I held it back and back and back... until one day, I thrust my index finger into my rectum and imagined myself dominated by all those who had flaunted their large male members. Even then, though, my killing thoughts lingered. I swore when I went off to college I would come back and kill him in the evening hours, my trusty green car battering the life out of him as I spun my tires away back.
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