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The Rules of Cheating
by
Shane Grey
I wanted to play Tetris.
For some reason I wanted to do that since I woke up.
Even after I puked my guts out and realized that last night limits
were tested. In the mirror the reflection didn't recognize me. I
didn't recognize the reflection either.
I wanted to buy an iPhone.
I had had a Blackberry. Then I an Android. I still had
the Android, but now it seemed obsolete. Everything eventually sucked
or got old or died. Really there was no point in even having a phone.
Shannon couldn't talk during the day anyway, even if she did call me.
The only person that called me was Darren. The clock said 4:25pm.
Darren would be waiting for me.
“Dude, lemme get this straight, you could be fucking
Shannon, you could have your dick deep in her pink tissue, but you're
not?” Darren said.
“I can't fuck her because I'm sitting here with you.”
The hangover that rested in the front of my skull, it radiated toward
the back. A reminder to not mix red wine and vodka and vicodin.
“Besides, she's married.” I said, adjusting my sunglasses. They
helped from the light, but not much.
An 80's moment when Darren spit out his Coke. All the
people in the diner looked at us. A little kid laughed.
“WHAT THE FUCK DUDE?” Darren said. The silverware
dropped off my napkin as I picked it up, using it to dry my
sunglasses and face of Darren's saliva swimming cola.
“What the fuck what?” I said. Put the sunglasses
back on, then took another bite of sour licorice. My hangover food
consisted of candy(fruity or sour or both), water, and beer.
“Shannon? The
oh-my-god-I-think-I'm-in-love-with-her-Shannon? The Shannon is
married?”
“Yeah. She is.” I said, indifferent.
“But you could fuck her?”
“Yeah. I mean, why not?”
“Why not? What do you know about seducing a married
woman?” Darren said. He wasn't making a statement, he was setting
up one of his epic lectures.
“I can charm women, Darren. Didn't mean for that to
rhyme.”
“So you're worried she won't cheat on her husband with
the likes of you?”
“Wife.” I said.
“Huh?”
“She's married to a woman. Shannon is married to a
woman, I think her name is Kelly.”
“You're fucking crazy. The seventh rule of cheating is
never do it(cheat)with a dyke.”
“That word is incredibly offensive.” I pause a beat,
remembering it's just Darren. “What the fuck are you talking
about?” I asked, put the licorice down, sat up a bit.
“The rules of cheating. You know?” Darren said,
oblivious to my own ignorance.
“I have no fucking clue, that is why I ask.”
“There are a lot of rules, man. But I follow the basic
ten.”
“Great. I can feel one of your speeches coming on. I
want to hear it. But first, follow me to Walgreen's so I can get a
six pack of Big Flats.” I said.
Big Flats lager had to be my favorite beer at the time.
But I never was one to judge beers or choose favorites. If it gets
you drunk and has bubbles, it was my favorite.
“I'll meet you there. I gotta stop and say hey to
Debbie.” Darren said.
Debbie had big tits and a small waist and lots of straw
blonde hair. Darren worked on getting her to give him a blow job.
He'd heard previously that she was really good at it. Debbie also had
a boyfriend. He was some loser hillbilly bouncer at some shit kicker
line dancing dive bar. It never seemed to bother Darren that maybe if
hillbilly found out he might come looking to kill him.
I strolled the cooler of Walgreen's until I came across
the six packs of Big Flats. I grabbed two and headed to the cashier.
At the register I bought a pack of Camel Lights, a green Bic lighter,
breath mints. The girl at the register rang me up. She smiled and I
figured if I told her my car was a Porsche, she would fuck me. But I
drove an old Toyota.
Behind Walgreen's I sat on some plastic milk crate and
cracked a beer. At some point later Darren showed up, smiling.
“What's up?” He said. He took a seat on a red milk
crate and took one of the beers.
“Are you fucking glowing?” I asked.
“Yeah. She did it, man.”
“Who did what?”
“Debbie. She sucked me up, even let me titty fuck
her.”
“Good times. How did you pull that off?”
“I followed the basic ten rules of cheating.”
“Alright, let me hear these rules.” I said.
Darren stood up, chugged his beer, tossed the can aside.
Then he burped loud. Then he said:
Rule #10
Get a pimp phone(aka burner phone). This is a no
contract phone available anywhere.
Rule #9
Never do it with the same girl more than twice. That
includes oral, hand jobs, anal, genital fondling.
Rule #8
Never do it at your place of living or business.
Rule #7
Never do it with Lesbians or bi-sexual chicks. Same rule
applies if you're gay(never with straights or breeders).
Rule #6
Be safe. Condoms, etc.
Rule #5
Keep your personal affairs personal. Don't share your
place of business or living or even favorite song.
Rule #4
Use a fake name or alias. I.e., Todd or Kyle(if your
name isn't either of those already).
Rule #3
Enjoy yourself.
Rule #2
If you get caught see rule number one. In the event you
do get caught, deny it and take it to the grave.
Rule #1
Don't get caught.
The list would be better read bottom to top.
Darren grabbed another beer. I sighed, my headache
slowly faded, but it still lingered.
“What else did you get?” He asked
“Smokes, Tylenol, a lighter.”
“Can I get a smoke?” I gave him one and lit it up.
“You took Tylenol after a night of drinking?”
“Yeah.” I said.
“I figured you would understand not to do that.”
“Why? Cause of the whole possible liver damage?”
“Yeah.”
“That's an old wives tale.” I said.
I still wanted to play Tetris. I still wanted an iPhone,
a white one. I wanted to play Tetris on my new iPhone. I was about to
ask Darren where the Apple store was, but this loud roaring echoed
the alley.
A large chopper motorcycle with an even larger hillbilly
on it.
The bike stopped in front of us. Turned off. The
hillbilly put it on the kickstand and stepped off. He took of his
sunglasses. I left mine on. So did Darren, but he stood up from the
crate.
“Which one of you fuckers is Dweasel?” The hillbilly
said.
“That's me.” Darren said.
“My lady gave you a blow job, now her tits smell like
your baby batter. I ain't cool with that, man.”
“Sorry, but it was a personal quest of mine.”
Darren/Dweasel said.
What amazed me was the coolness of Darren. He seemed to
not be scared. The hillbilly had a least a hundred and sixty pounds
on skinny Darren. I myself skinny from all the alcohol and pills. I
hardly ever ate actual food.
The hillbilly pulled his fist back, Darren pulled a gun
from the back of his pants, he shot the hillbilly in the head. Blood
and chunks of brain matter exploded everywhere, like a watermelon at
a Gallagher show. I finished what was left of my beer. Stood up.
“What the fuck?” I said.
“Sorry, man. I didn't know he followed me from her
place.” Darren said, wiping blood from his sunglasses. “Can you
help me get this into my trunk?”
I helped him put the headless hillbilly in his trunk. He
left the bike there. We said our goodbye's, until tomorrow, we would
meet at the diner. Before he left I asked him a question.
“Why do you have a gun?”
“Rule number sixty-four. If you sleep with married women, or just generally cheat long
enough, it may come back to bite you in the ass, so carry a gun.”
Darren said, putting on his sunglasses.
“Is that really the rule?”
“Something like that. I just like carrying a gun, it
makes me feel cool.”
Afterward, I washed my face off on the in the bathroom
of Walgreen's. The reflection didn't know who I was, nor did I know
who he was. I bought a bottle of vodka, a quart of pineapple juice,
one of those protein shaker cups.
On the drive to the Apple store I drank the vodka and
juice.
