I’ve been reading real-person fan fic. I’d always thought that was pretty weird thing to do, but now I’m doing it myself. I would think it must be weird if you’re like a famous person and there are people writing fictitious stories about you. But that’s kinda what tabloids do anyway, right?
So here’s a drabble (short story consisting of only a few hundred words) about people I know. Ha Ha.
Fandom: RPF people you don’t know
Rating: PG-13 for possible language
Disclaimer: I can’t remember if any of this actually happened. No disrespect meant to anyone involved. I’m not making any money off of you.
Author’s Note: First draft, never edited.
“I remember when I could smoke in here,” I said wistfully. There were a few people scattered around the Denny’s on 37th Ave that night at 3am. They all looked young to me, and I doubt they ever sat in this place smoking a few cigarettes over coffee after a night of clubbing.
“You shouldn’t be smoking anyway.” Doug said.
He picked at his fries a little. I was trying my hardest not to. If I could smoke, I wouldn’t be so tempted by those fucking greasy french fries.
To my left, Moe was drumming on the table with two straws. “This shit brings back memories. I fucking hate it here,” he laughed.
“Yeah, we should find a new Denny’s,” Doug said.
“Why? Who knows when we’ll even be here again,” I said.
“Yeah, man. This is awesome being here together like this,” Gerry piped in. “How we can all be here at our Denny’s even though we don’t live here anymore. We should always eat here when we’re all in Miami at the same time.”
“Awe, you’re so sweet,” Doug teased.
“Shut up, Doug. For real, it’s like our own high school reunion,” Gerry said.
“Yeah, but we never came here together when we were in high school,” Moe pointed out.
“That’s true,” Doug agreed.
The waitress came by shortly with the bill.
“I’ll get it,” Doug said and grabbed the check.
“How much was what I ordered?” Moe asked.
“Don’t worry about it, I got it.”
Moe snatched the bill from Doug’s hand. “No way. Let me see.”
“Yeah, Doug,” I said, “You don’t have to support our sorry asses anymore. You gotta save for Whopper Jr’s college fund.”
Moe set the bill on the table and reached for his wallet to pull out some cash.
“Yeah, Doug. I bet you’re kid’s gonna grow up to be real smart,” Gerry laid a few dollars on the table with Moe’s.
“I can’t believe we all grew up and had kids,” Doug looked around the Denny’s.
I’d been silently wondering if some of these kids in here were from Miami High. Were these kids just like us, staying up all night trying to savor our youth and not miss a second of it? Even at 19, we had known that time was ticking by and that sooner rather than later we would be “adults” though the exact details of adulthood were still an abstract we couldn’t understand yet.
And here we were 10+ years later, at the same Denny’s on 37th Ave.
I laughed. “You say that every single time.”
We started getting up to leave. Doug, ever the responsible one, paid the lady at the counter with a credit card and pocketed all the cash we had given him.
“Oh, my god. The sun’s coming up already,” I said. “I can’t remember the last time I was up this late.”
“I remember the last time I was up this late – never,” Doug said. He signed the receipt and we all started to walk out the door.
“I can sleep on the plane,” Moe said.
“You guys,” Gerry said, “I’m gonna miss you so much.”
“We’ll see each other soon,” I said, “and hey.. MySpace.”
We hugged and kissed and all that goodbye stuff. We got into our cars and drove off to the lives we had made for ourselves. That small notion of regret tugged at my heart. The one that wishes we could have all stayed together somehow.
As I drove back to my mother’s house I sang along to my radio. “Hearts and thoughts they fade…away…”