He closed the door. He stank. Body odor and rain. He was headed to Santa Fe. He reached his hand over, “Jerry.”

I shook his hand and told him my name. The desert had been a long drive of rain, a long drive of thinking about the worst possible things, for no reason. Vacant is worse than fear. He looked around my car, then over his shoulder to the back, where the theatre seats were folded up above my dog on his king size bed. He leaned back, “Nice ride, man.”

“Thanks.” I reached back into my backpack and felt for it, then pulled it up and handed it to him without taking my eyes off the road. Deodorant. Old Spice. “Here.”

He took it, “Is it that bad?”

“Yes. But don’t take it personally. Though there’s no reason to make the ride suffering.” I glanced at his expression, and I felt bad. I gave him a fast smile and nodded at the road, “Not to borrow trouble. Just being honest.”

“No, fuck, man. If it’s that bad.” He reached up each side and solved the problem. The day grew brighter there. He reached back to replace it.

“Keep it,” I said.

He thought about it, then shoved it in his backpack, “Of course. Thanks, dude.”

“Don’t mention it.”

I hadn’t picked up a hitchhiker in years, but in the last year, I’d picked up three, counting him. No, in the last month. Success had found me late, but it found me with my memory in full. The only thing that changed me from being him was stubbornness. But he was younger. Tall, lost, six week beard. He didn’t have to be out in the wind, but he let it happen. I checked the time on my phone. I had to be in Albuquerque in the morning. I was dropping him off outside of my hotel. From there he only had 40 miles or so. He was coming from Manhattan Beach. Something about his father or his mother and then a restraining order, then a girl he knew in Santa Fe. I was only half there. The other half of me was lost in the music, Agent Orange, and the all the grey spiked upon the desert. He fell silent. I scratched my beard.

“How long?” he said.

“About two months. I need to shave.”

He looked over at me, “You know what you call a person without a beard?”

“What?”

“A woman.”

I laughed. It had been awhile. All the thoughts of nothingness dropped away for the moment and we laughed there. It made him more human to me, more flesh. The last year of my life had been waxed over by a long and steadily dull riff. My ears hummed with it, my heart was soaked by it. The road was the only answer. Some things never changed. I looked over at him, “Restraining order?”

He shook his head and gave me an apologetic stare. I looked back at the freeway.

“Spill it. Fuck it.”

“I was living with my parents in California, and I met this girl who lived in the apartment downstairs. We went out for drinks, and ended up walking pretty far together, dude, bar to bar, and she liked my sense of humor, and I liked her. After a few more vodka doubles we were walking down the beach, then cut through a patch of trees. All fucking night, man, all night, we were cracking dark jokes, ripping on people in the bars, totally talking shit, right? So, when we were walking through that patch, on the trail or whatever, she says, ‘It’s so fucking cold out here.’ And I say, ‘What are bitching about? I have to walk back alone.’”

I broke out laughing so hard it woke up my dog. He sat up and looked around. Jerry watched me laugh and he lost it, started laughing, beating his knees. We went on laughing until we couldn’t anymore. He took a deep breath, “Thank fucking god you get it, man. I was only joking, I really was. I thought she would be impressed. I mean, the joke wasn’t mine, but I improvised it, totally freestyled a pervert joke into a joke between two adults. Anyway, she takes off running, totally hauls ass and disappears. I fuckin’ get lost, and when I get home a couple of cops were there, and blah, blah, blah. Long story short, she got her restraining order, and I had to leave. My parents live too close, well within 500 feet of her. They didn’t know what to think, so I called my ex and she told me I could stay with her, but I had to get a job. Gave me two weeks to get a fucking job.”

I looked over at him and we broke up laughing again. The rain came down and the road was the same, and we drove toward New Mexico.

"Knock knock"

"What are we 8 or something?"

"Come on" Aden smiles "you have to play along."

Jess rolls her eyes "who's there?"

"Box" Aden barely able to contain himself

"Box who?"

"Box cause I love you"

"Wow that was terrible" Jess says trying to hide a grin

"Fine." Aden's smile faded "let's try again"

"Seriously? You aren't going to be a comedian you know"

"And you will never get your gift if you don't play along"

"Who says I want it?"

"Oh you'll want it. Trust me." He kisses her gently on the forehead "knock knock"

"Who's there?"

"Surprise"

"Surprise who?" Aden collapses down to one knee

"Surprise for you" holding out a small box with a shiny ring "box cause I love you."

Jess laughs uncontrollably as tears form in her eyes "you are so weird"

"Probably, you gonna marry me anyway?"

Jess shrugs "I guess so" as he slides the ring onto her finger.

So anyway where was I? Ah yes, Wednesday of last week I was out shopping for groceries. I was in our local supermarket, waiting at the checkout and this bloke who I used to know was behind me in the queue. We started talking and passing pleasantries while waiting and he says to me that he's got this great joke, not wanting to seem stand-offish I says to him okay then let's hear it. So off he goes;

A Freeway goes into a bar and orders a large scotch and stands there, nervously, as the bartender pours him his drink. Seconds later he's finished and orders another, the bartender thinks nothing of it and while he's pouring out the drink a strip of Tarmac walks in.

The Freeway dives behind the bar and hides. The bartender asks him if he's okay, the Freeway says "Shh, that guys a Cyclepath".

I laugh politely, and turn to see that the queue has still not shortened. My talkative friend has not finished however and taps me on the shoulder. He tells me he's heard an even better joke, so again I do my best to look interested and tell him to go ahead. He starts;

How did Darth Vader know what Luke Skywalker had bought him for Christmas? I shrug.

"He felt his presents"

I force a laugh and tell him he's just so funny, but he hasn't finished with me yet.....

"How many ears has Mister Spock got?" I reply that as far as I'm aware he has two! But I'm wrong;

"Three ears! His left ear, his right ear, and his final front ear".

I leave my basket and hurry home.

Doug and I had met in college. We were best buddies before romance ever entered the picture. I could knock beers back as well as any of the ego inflated, IQ defficient ball players he hung around with. They were our entertainment, really. Like fireworks. All you had to do was light 'em up and retreat to a safe vantage point. With graduation closing in, I realized I couldn't bear parting with Doug. He felt the same. We were married six months after graduation.

It took a few years to put our degrees to good use. It took another few to build a nest egg, buy a house, do some traveling. We were content with life. Then, suddenly, it didn't feel like enough. There was something missing. So we decided to have a baby. Only it hasn't been that simple. When you've been trying to procreate for 3 years, with no success, everything starts to crumble. I started wondering if I was barren, which made me feel like a failure. Doug wondered if he was shooting blanks. Sex wasn't hot and messy and fun, anymore. It was a means to an end, with a shitload of pressure attached. We finally decided to see a gynecologist for procreative advice.

There I was, in every woman's all-time favorite place and position. I squinted as the spotlight flooded my vagina; it was time for the show to begin. There's always an awkwardness we women try to talk through and I was no different. "So, Dr Mangum, why did you decide to go into gynecology?" He placed lube on the speculum. "Lots of openings". Doug snorted, I rolled my eyes. Exam in full swing, he turned to Doug, "Why can't ghosts have babies?" Doug is clearly enjoying this visit more than I am. "No idea, sir." "Hollow weenies. But don't worry, you're next. We're going to do a semen analysis. Have you jack off in a cup so we can see just how lazy those tadpoles are." Smile gone, color drained, Doug looks like he's a ghost. He looks at me for a long moment, then we both bust up, laughing hysterically, like we haven't since we've allowed this pressure to weigh us down. We walked out of that office and never went back. We stopped trying to have a baby and started enjoying each other again. And, guess what? We had one anyway.

She watched him from her balcony, as she did on those occasions when he tended the south garden. Papa would not approve of her lusting after a gardener. But surely Papa had been young once.

At her debut, he had been excited for her. “Look around you, my darling one,” he had said. “All these young noblemen will be clamoring for your attention. But you mustn’t trifle with them, for you have the power to break their hearts. And you must choose wisely. Remember, my dear, the daughter of an Earl does not marry beneath her station.”

He was proud and loving that night, but also sure to make his point. No, he would not be pleased with Terrance. But she simply couldn’t help herself. The fresh bloom of love on a maiden’s heart would not be ignored. And so, she broke the first rule her father had set for her…she trifled with a man’s emotions.

She found any excuse to be alone with him. Little by little, she became bolder and bolder. First, she’d let him touch her hand. Then her cheek. Then her hair. She was the aggressor, but Terrence did not try to dissuade her. Rather, his attention only fanned the flames of her desire, until it got the best of both of them. They wanted nothing more than to be wed.

So, they made plans to elope and then hoped to run away to France, or Germany, or even the Americas, maybe.

She wore a simply white frock with a ribbon in her hair. He had picked the finest lilies and sweet William from the Earl’s garden and fashioned a bouquet for her. And they kissed as man and wife, there before the vicar in a town miles from her own.

As they walked to the inn, she held tightly to his arm and whispered all of her dreams for their future. They had never been alone for so long a time before. Never had the chance to really talk. Now they had their whole lives before them.

“Oh Terrence,” she swooned, “won’t it be marvelous? There is so much in store for us! Tell me, have you ever been abroad?”

He looked at her askance. “Well there’s a strange question! Certainly not! I have always been a man!”

She was confused by his response, but preferred to let it pass, so as not to spoil the moment. When they arrived at the inn, she asked for the most beautiful suite they had available. The desk clerk, noting her white dress and bouquet, delicately asked, “Bridal?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” interrupted Terrence. “She can just hold on to my ears until she gets the hang of it.”

Young Lady Claire wished she had listened to her father after all.

Adelaide had no idea what she was supposed to say. Surrounded by dogs and kids, a clown dressed like Minnie Mouse with braids held the microphone aloft and began to chant. "Make! Us! Laugh! Make! Us! Laugh!"

"Shit," thought Adelaide, "This is the last time I bring Archie to see Fig and Jackal." She looked down at Archie whose eyes were bigger than the polka dots on Fig's dress. He pushed her leg.

"Mom, SAY something FUNNY! Everyone is looking!"

Adelaide was not shy but she hated being put on the spot by people dressed more like cartoons than humans. Speaking of which, she fucking hated television.

"Alright!" she yelled, holding her hands up, "Why did the feminists get burned at the stake?"

Fig lowered the microphone. The parents stared. Archie smiled and raised his hand. Adelaide tried to shoo it down. Archie was adamant.

"Because bitches deserve the same rights as witches!"

Adelaide smiled at him.

"We made that up."

Parents began to gather their things and move towards the door. Archie waved joyfully.

The tip bucket for the clowns stood empty except for a dollar. They glared at Adelaide and Archie. Adelaide took the bill out and rolled it carefully into a tube. She held it to her nose and inhaled, testing the pull. Satisfied, she handed it and a salt shaker to Fig and Jackal.

"Next time, why don't you stick to something you know will work?"

"Knock, knock." He said, with the scent of fresh cigarettes and stale alcohol in his breath, I vomit in my mouth. The smell is horrible. Silence fell between us, I hesitated to answer to him. His nostrils flared, he grew impatient. I could tell from the looks of him.

"Whose there?" I give in, my knees feel weak.

"Life."

"Life who?" I taste blood from holding my tongue moments ago.

"Life and Death." He responds.

"That isn't funny." I sound harsh, as the words escape past my lips. Oh, Shit, now you've done it, Justice.

"But your life is, and pathetic. Don't forget that." He chuckled lowly. I grit my teeth, my hands pierce into my palms.

"Right." I managed to say. Still vomit is on my taste-buds. I place my hands into my jacket, feeling something cool I place my fingers over it. A gun...

"Knock, knock." I say.

"Whose there?"He says.

"Death." I pull out the gun, cocking it."I was onl-." He managed to say before I pulled the trigger.