Cream Scene Carnival

I once caught a couple having sexual relations in a Costco parking lot. Accidentally speaking. I mean, it’s not like I was looking for it; it just happened! 

At the time, I was going to a special education career center for adults with special needs to gain skills to obtain competitive employment. So, our class frequently got to go off-campus and explore the community. We all decided to go to Costco for the food court. 

Ah, yes. I remember those days when I’d order a hot dog or pepperoni pizzer! And to drink it down was a medium-sized cup of Pepsi-Cherry or Dr. Pepper. And then I’d eat ’em up, give a big, hunky-dory smile, and say, “DAS SOME GOOD PIZZER!” And strangers would look back with confused faces, snicker amongst themselves, and say, “What the feck is wrong with him?” to which the other person would reply, “Oh, don’t worry, honey, it’s one of those ‘mentally handicapped’ folks. Don’t pay ’em any mind.”

“Jesus fecking Christ, these people give me the creeps. They look like they’re on angel dust.”

Those were the days. And then they would leave off with their box of Ensure, bag of chips, rotisserie chicken, and doughnuts. With that combination, I wonder what their diet plan must look like.

Anyhow, when it was time to go back to the van and the center, I would take my leftovers to go, wrap my pizzer with tin-foil, and hit the road. To be frank, I never wanted to go back to school. I wanted to stay. Anyplace like Costco was like being at a palace—I was over the rainbow! But I had to go back regardless.

We all walked back to the parking lot in a big line, as if we were ducklings. But from a young, hip-ish stranger’s perspective, we were all just plain ass ugly. It wasn’t as hunky dory as people like to flower it up to be.

Anyway, I was walking behind them as we made our way to the van, and the van was located in the far back of the lot, with a few cars parked here and there. Walking and passing one car to another and watching their windows like some crazy person, I accidentally caught this skinny dirty blonde woman placing her lips on some feller’s red cock. Going down and sucking away every inch of his confidence until he would regret it in the end. (I assume that with all men’s egos, they would regret losing their man juice. That’s what I heard from YouTube, as told by many pornography and sex addiction experts. Why do I know this? Why not know it? I must understand what these young folks are doing these days. Can’t be born yesterday or live under a rock forever.) 

Alarming right?! And I scurried fast to catch up to the line. For a fat kid—which I was at the time—I was doing a marathon. When we got to the van, I was tired and breathing heavily. One student asked if I was okay.

“You look like you’ve seen the devil.”

To which I replied, “Oh no. I saw worse than that.”

And then we drove back to the school center.

Looking back on it, I can’t help but laugh like an old sailor. Just thinking about those people doing it in the car makes me laugh! That was also where my introduction to oral sex began. Only at the Costco’s parking lot. 

I should also add that at school I would write steamy fiction (the type you buy at the pharmacy store or Walmart) on the computer or in a notebook, print it out, and solicit it for a dollar. I was like the newspaper boy calling out the hottest take on “Goldilocks and the Three Bears: Goldie’s Confession,” or “The Atomic Bomb,” or “What Did the Cheating Husband Do This Time?” or stories about the “Asylum.” I wrote ’em all! It’s always more fun to write for pleasure than for income. Though I shouldn’t say that; I would also write for money here and there, I will admit. I guess I found pleasure in writing and earning a little salary. Sometimes I’d use that money to buy snacks at the store and share them with my siblings or acquaintances. I wish I could do that again. But I already have a day job. Now, I just write (and paint or draw) for pleasure. I have to write. Gotta say something. Can’t keep everything stored in my head forever; that would be selfish.