Last Dance With The Dying (short story)

   "14,000 of these were made just last month. Do you know how many of those 14,000 were properly fucked before finding their way into a landfill?" Edgar was walking along the sidewalk with his right arm extended out in front of him as he spoke. Grasped in his hand was a rubber dildo flopping at both ends with every step he took. It's coloration was eggshell brown and it had a remarkable vein protruding down the length of the shaft. A detailed specimen indeed. The damn thing looked like a real dick, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to smack it out of his hand. I pictured it rotating through the air, balls over shaft over balls, and out into the street, bouncing across the pavement.

   But I didn't slap it, instead I answered, "14,000 seems like a high estimate for a month's worth of rubber cock, where did you hear that?" Behind us a car slowed and cruised up next to us. It was a green Fairlane, probably late 60's. I remember my father used to own one, his was a '67 in cherry condition. This one was bondo patched in several places and the engine sounded like shit. The green wasn't even a factory green and the front bumper sagged on the side nearest the sidewalk, held in place by a bungee cord stretched around twice. The weight of the solid steel bumper was simply too much, sag was inevitable.

   "You motherfucking faggots! Are you kidding me right now?" the passenger up front yelled angrily at us. At first I assumed it was jealousy, because there we were out in the open, enjoying the day, and he was stuck inside that miserable car with a chick at the wheel, no less. My father's Fairlane was competition ready, he had amassed three windowsills worth of trophies and I had bagged a few trophies myself on the original leather of that backseat. God, I loved that car.

   But this guy was really pissed. I watched as he motioned to the chick driver to stop, stop, stop with a hand motion that looked as though he were testing the heat of a candle flame near her face. She either didn't give a shit or misread the signal because the vehicle continued down the street. At one point I saw an arm appear from the passenger side with a middle finger aimed our way. Some people just get angry.

   "Hey, follow me, I have a quick stop to make" Edgar said as he cut left across the street. My mind was still on the Fairlane, wondering if that asshole and the chick driver had ever fooled around in the backseat. There was so much room to maneuver, you could really get away with a lot back there. I wonder if their car still had original leather? I doubted it.

   We were headed towards the 55+ senior living center on Taybin Rd. I didn't want to come off as a douche, so I didn't ask any questions, but Edgar had a way of getting us into awkward moments, so naturally there was some uncertainty lurking beneath the surface. I continued walking, following blindly. Edgar still had the rubber dildo in his hand, but now it was down near his side as he walked. Every once in awhile it would make contact with his jacket and produce a swooshing sound like rubber on plastic.

   We approached the "community area" of the senior home. In between, where two of the building complexes abutted, was a space beneath a slanted roof with four tables set out. On these tables was an assortment of miscellaneous items ranging anywhere from books to clothes to toasters. Attached to a wall to the right of the tables was a sign that read: Community Share Space. Edgar stood there surveying all the stuff. The rubber dong was half-shoved into his jacket pocket now, with the ballsack end hanging awkwardly out. From my angle it looked just like a fake puffer fish without any eyes.

   "Ha! Look at that, some old lady put jewelry in a Depends box," I pointed out with a retarded grin on my face. "Hey Edgar, you want some jewelry?"
   "Depends," he replied and walked over to the table. He shoved the adult diaper box aside and started rooting through some of the junk. He picked up a shirt with a giant yellow banana on the front, and on the back it read COOL CHIMP. "Dude, really?" he chuckled as he tossed it back to the pile.

   Near the back hidden beneath another pile of clothes was a wooden breadbox, vintage with a slatted roll-up door. On the lid was a colorful painting of a barn and silo with a pasture full of cows, and I wondered what this had to do with bread. Edgar was suddenly interested in his find. He pulled it out from the cave of clothing and opened it up. It was empty inside. As if this was the plan all along, he removed the rubber dildo from his pocket and placed it into the breadbox, closed the lid and hid it back under the clothes.

   "I just stuck my cock in granny's breadbox," he laughed. Without hesitation he began rummaging again. It didn't take long before he found the next thing he was looking for. On the next table over was a Tupperware container full of DVD's. "Ahh jackpot!" He quickly read through them aloud, "E.T., Always, Somewhere In Time, Apollo 13, Left Behind.. a rubber dong, Dutch, The Philadelphia Story, Casablanca, Cocoon.. haha, go figure, never fails." He pulled Cocoon from the stack and opened it up, took out the disc and tossed it in the garbage can. Then he reached into his other jacket pocket and pulled out his own DVD disc and snapped it into the case, closed it and put it back with the others. "Okay, let's go."

   Edgar had already started walking away, but before leaving I quickly picked up Cocoon and looked inside. The replacement disc was a burned copy and written on it in permanent black marker was the word 'Cockoon'. As I hurried to catch up with him I wondered which unfortunate senior would be watching hardcore porn later tonight. Would it be a man or a woman? Maybe a couple? Would they frantically reach for the remote to turn it off in disgust or would they smile shyly and watch it all the way through, thanking Ron Howard for his delightful contribution in their sleep. Either way, I was fast on the heels of a genius. "Yo, wait up! Where to next, man?"


The End