Disclaimer: I own nothing :) Cheers.

"Would you look at the girl on that ass?"

I ignored Ralph as I quickly began rummaging through the many travel guides set up outside of the boarding gates beside me. After high school which includes Nora and George's great schism, as I like to refer to it as, the McDonald's got the house, the cars, the dog (but technically Lizzie found it back when she was in the eighth grade so that wasn't too much of a heartbreaker), and the TV (oh noble TV…). The Venturi's got the DVD player (because one needs a DVD player even if one doesn't have a motherfucking television to go with it), the furniture (so we could kick back and watch our DVD player and ambitions sink into quicksand and Plexiglas), and Ralph.

Joyous Ralph.

Ralph decided he wanted to come with me to California about fifteen minutes before I started driving out to the airport. We were newly graduated studs out to embark on the mission of missions.

One embarked by every college-bound high school graduate since the beginning of time. The mission to find the most wasted college whores out there and have a good fucking time.

I was excited, he was excited. We both had just gotten out of some sticky relationships so running away was the only option. As I sat in my little navy blue chair reading all about the many extravagancies of Reno I chuckled to myself as shear irony sank into my skin. We were going back to the place we had gone out of our way to try and forget.

And this was not a question of force, but free will. We were willingly returning to the place where both of our lives had slowly become nothing but the passing of a blunt joint outside the science lab. I rolled my eyes and sat back, contemplating why. Why was I putting myself into such a miserable position? And then I remembered I was doing it for Casey. I had to do it for Casey.

"D, I'm serious, that girl was…they don't make em' like that anymore."

This was a statement Ralph often made. I guess by saying that statement it evoked a sense of false pride within him, as though he was simply admiring the female physic, when really he was being an asshole.

But, you know…it happens.

"Yeah, I saw her. Her ass was great—when do we board?"

Why is it that coach is always the shittiest place in the world to be? It's never "Oh, coach! Yes! Fucking free headaches and tiny pissing spaces!"

It's always (and will always be) "Motherfucking coach…this sucks so many hairy monkey balls that instead of fucking 'coach' it should be fucking 'choke'…"

Or, you know, maybe something a little less graphic for any self-respecting human beings, but I look around and all I see is premeditated suicide, so I'm bankin that everyone feels the same way…

"Wait, man, here she comes, here she comes! Oh, look at that…I'm feeling it, man I'm fucking feeling it…and she's gone."

I was still gripping the Reno, Las Vegas brochure for support. Ralph had taken to pointing out every mildly attractive female that happened to mosey on over to our neck of the woods because they needed fast access to the bathroom. I felt bad for every single one of them. They didn't even know how much they were being degraded by the dirty mind of my fucking lunatic of a friend…I probably would've said something but I was too preoccupied with the fucking slaughter of my eardrums due their excessive popping. Every two minutes they would pop and I would counteract that popping by popping another piece of gum into my mouth and chewing at top speeds, as if that would remedy anything, but obviously, uh no. The only upside was that my breath would be overwhelmingly minty fresh.

If that's really much of an upside…

"Ralph…that woman had to be about forty-eight."

He shrugged as if this could never and would never matter to him (and honestly, it really really couldn't/wouldn't.)

"Older women are more experienced…you know, like Nora."

And thank you for playing Inappropriate Things to Say on a Plane (or anywhere else in the universe or a parallel universe for that matter…).

It would then take two hours of festering, eight more pieces of gum, and thirteen more bathroom-bound women before the image of Nora sprawled out on the floor slinked on back out of my brain. Jesus Christ…there are some things people should just keep to themselves…

There were some other things I was trying not to think about, but couldn't help but do so as the plane descended back down to the ground. Ralph had fallen asleep (thankfully) so I was left with nothing my own subconscious (well…if you don't count the little girl in the seat across from mine who kept batting her eyelashes at me and asking if I wanted to pet her dolly…yeah, I know…I need help.)

I couldn't stop myself even if I tried. Whenever I close my eyes I see it all over again. Every second of it. It's like a movie poured out into my brain…I've written a screenplay for it…it's probably my best work but I'll never give it to anyone. Sam and Casey could pass away—they could give me their blessing for all I care. I would never let anyone know what transpired between us…

It's too heavy…even for me.

I am twenty-four fucking years old. I have sex with another woman practically every night. I am a teacher (if that's what you really want to call sitting in front of a bunch of kids, telling them school is bullshit). And I fucked a girl for three whole years just because she slightly resembled my practically unattainable ex-girlfriend/step-sister.

I can't fucking sleep at night without popping pills, I feel like as ass-hat all the time…and Jesus Christ, I'm actually doing this for her.

I'm actually going to my home town so I can be a little kissass, do every little shit thing she tells me to do, cater to her every want and need, jerk myself to sleep, and then watch her marry my best friend who I don't even fucking talk to anymore.

God, I really do need help.

As the seatbelt sign blinks off I am faced with a big decision. I could either be a man, get up, and face my past or I could board the next plane back to California where I would find some brunette with blue eyes, fuck her, and then go to sleep wishing I wasn't such a pussy.

Slowly, I stood up and walked Ralph and my carry-on luggage out the plane's bigass door.

I didn't even stop to thank the hot flight attendant…

Did I mention I really need some fucking help?

Hope you guys enjoyed it. Next one will most likely be up later on tonight.