5.01 / January 2010


Some days before something stabbing was pressed against my chest, I connected with the girlfriend. We watched the other dissolve in on the screen, set by the sights of two strongly pixelated webcams. My laptop glowed as its eye a green light, by whose gaze I knew how to angle and fold myself correctly.

I sat in this chair that has wheels. I wheeled around before things really got rolling.

I kissed my mouth on the camera and licked a little. I whispered messages in a very basic typeface, and dug my eyes gallingly back into my head, like to scratch, when it was clear to me she’d received them.

We said various commands which, someday touching this self in isolation, we would learn doubly not to regret.

“Pretend you are a cow,” I said.

“Meow,” she said.

After brief introductions, I lassoed my shorts around my ankles and applied moisture to myself. I spat and dripped some drool and wiped that unwillingly around.

After passively puppeteering our parts, this man from work entered her room, and thus her screen, and thus her, sucking on his fingers. He wore a parsley-colored cotton jacket only. I have to say, I think it’s hers. After all this time spent wearing it he did not remove it.

I enlarged my portion of the screen framing me, which had filled up a corner of my screen, to constitute half of my screen, gone full-screen, the details blurred and obscured, but still I wanted to portion us evenly, and to know what kind of a man I am.

“Pretend you are a fish,” I said.

“Pretend you are me,” I said.

Basically what they did we’ve already done long since, only now with more of another man.

This man, the boyfriend, would play with her toes and generally the whole imported bulk of her body. She would groaningly moan his name, always garbled as if some unsavored swallow, and flirt her eyes, while pinkly mouthing his penis, to the favorable video feed of me. I tried, during lulls, to fall myself asleep.

But I would only awaken with less, less, and less of somebody.

“Buzz buzz buzz hey guys I have to go,” I said.

Naturally, it’s not like my being anywhere, for either you or him, would advocate a behavior, the distance being so impressed, and I can eagerly understand you continuing to behave this way while I am not around–and I am not around, believe me–unless then, or now, or ever, I begin to bleed. I’ve always believed that if somebody ever could
love and be loved by a separate somebody, they would never be lonely.

This is not the case, as it happens.

It would have been my pleasure to join them. The drive was fifteen minutes apart. The problem holding us together, I’ve always said, was there weren’t enough cars to go around.

At one point of climax, it was my opportunity to call out my own name to no one’s surprise. His semen, that time, clunked onto some low point in her neck.

Then I gave everybody kisses good-night.

It has been my pleasure to watch this man grow without celebration into an adult. And now I’ve brought wedding gifts for everybody.