Shred Wallace's Oblivion, Pynchon's "V", Leyner's Sugar Frosted Nutsack* and Ourednik's Instant Propice . Gather in a 2 Gallon Ziploc Brand Freezer Bag. Shake, half-bake. And here's this subtly crusted bilingual English/Fren
KISSING NUMBER
By Philippe St-JeaniUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2012 Philippe St-Jean
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4759-0570-0Chapter One
—Seriously? Texting? While I'm just across the hall?
—The apparatus moved last night.
—I mean I even heard you type.
—Check it out, though.
—Who touched it?
—No, no. All by itself, the little guy. 'bout a quarter to one. I looked at the video, no one was there.
—Antenna? Piezo? Nothing there?
—Nothing on the antenna. A little something on the piezo starting about 5 minutes earlier, but barely detectable ... could have come from a train passing by far away. Although 5 minutes sounds a tad long for a train. I wouldn't have picked it up if I weren't looking for it. Of course I don't know what happened after, since it knocked off the piezo once it popped out of the socket.
—Gamma burst?
—Nothing on the semi.
— ...
— ...
—Ça n'a aucun sens.
—I know.
—On se bat pour en sortir une douzaine d'électron-volts, combien pour le faire sortir de son socle?
—I know. We're in macroscopic country here. Boggles the mind.
—It can't be.—Show me the clip.
* * *
-1988-
Calvin avait l'habitude de marcher rapidement dans le corridor de son école secondaire sans lever les pieds. C'était possible, car le plancher du corridor en terrazzo était maintenu impeccablement propre—assez pour y patiner. En marchant, il laissait toujours sa main gauche traîner sur le mur, ne la retirant que lorsqu'il passait à côté des protubérances en bois compressé—peintes du même marine très foncé que le mur lui-même, fait de béton—qui servaient à masquer des tuyaux d'où provenaient des coulisses de rouille. Elles étaient couvertes de 2 à 3 centimètres de poussière. Le nettoyage de leur surface supérieure ne faisait pas partie de la description de tâche du personnel d'entretien. Zach et Javier regardaient Calvin venir vers eux en s'échangeant un sourire qui disait: on devrait lui dire de ne plus marcher comme ça, mais on ne le fera pas.
—C: I thought I'd find you guys in here. Couple of things I wanted to talk to you about.
—Zach: Hence the hyper-drive walking.
—C: You know Ganacks? From 304? The dude just got a step closer to the first Dexter Slam in modern history.
—Zach: No fudging way. He got to three? When?
—Javier: Dexter Slam?
—Zach: When, Calves? And most important, with whom?
—Javier: ...?
—Zach: You're kidding, right, Jav-boy? You never heard of it? Calves, would you mind explaining to our socially inadequate friend here.
—C:I can't believe you've never heard of this, Jav. It goes way back, like thirty years ago or something. It's a contest. Very challenging. Been won three times. First by Jean-Paul Maquette back in `66, then by another guy a couple of years later, though no one seems to remember his name which is strange considering the detailed descriptions of his achievement that has been well-documented, graphically speaking, frescoed on a somewhat hidden wall in the 3rd floor boys' bathroom. Then finally, by Bruce Longhorn, most recent in line, 1978.
Most guys now believe that the last one really was the last ever and that it just can't be done anymore.
—Jav: De quoi on parle?
—C: Je dirais que l'évènement a été victime de sa propre légende, parce que les parties intéressées sont désormais mises en garde à chaque début d'année, d'après ce qu'on dit, lors d'entretiens privés avec certaines enseignantes ayant elles-mêmes étudié ici à la belle époque. On devine facilement les raisons pour lesquelles elles ressentent le besoin d'organiser ces entretiens.
—Zach: It's a bit of a weird thing, though, when you think about it. I mean, what's the point of warning thirteen-year-olds about a thing like that? Old folks have this notion that we lack some sort of maturity that they are entitled to pass on to our age and, quite frankly, I find the whole attitude towards us quite contemptuous, plus the perception widely inaccurate. For instance, take any thirteen-year-old girl and consider for a minute the choices she has to make about encounters with boys. Completely unconstrained choices. Complete freedom. Projecting herself in the relationship, in the long-term, is just a kicker at her age. I look at my half-sister who's now 23 and I can see her making poor decisions over and over—sentimental ones I mean—'cause now she's starting to think about selecting a viable partner for eventual reproduction down the line, one that would also be able to contribute regularly to a mortgage and joint RRSPs and so on. So when I turn to her and ask what she sees in whatever new guy she's dating, her answer is systematically: "I think he's funny", and while I typically restrain from commenting on this criterion I sometime feel gripped to confront her and tell her that measuring compatibility with a potential soul mate based on the limited fact that the counterparty can produce a single witty line under the influence of three beers might fall short of doing the trick, over the long-term that is, but I look at her and I can tell that she knows this already. Of course. But that's all she's got, and the realization of this shortcoming, I think, weighs heavily on the management of the sentimental realm of her life. So my point is: talk about a girl who needs guidance. She's the one—along with of her same-aged friends, which incidentally probably includes some of the teachers Calves was referring to earlier—who could use a word of advice about guys. You know. While our thirteen-year-old girls, on the other hand, being a) already well-aware of all bio-mechanical considerations concerning the matters at hand-thanks to ass-kickin', government-sponsored,—approved sex ed—and b) completely willing to engage in such relationships with the prior understanding that the counterparty might be a total ass, as long as he can perhaps pretend to be exclusive for a period of about a week or two, while as well practicing proper hygiene—minimal—and keeps wearing those cool sneakers. That's about it. Plus the non-spoken rule that age difference with the counterparty shouldn't exceed 18 months. Now I'm asking you, my friends, what's wrong with throwing a little dextering in, assuming that proper hygiene is ensured throughout?
—Javier: Who's Dexter?
—C: I've heard those annual awareness presentations are lead by Miz McClatchy. I think it makes sense. You can tell she has a past. Something in the tone of her voice, comme quand on a le trois heures de bio en ligne le vendredi après-midi et qu'elle fatigue vers la fin.
—Z: You bet she has a past. And a great future too, with yours truly, hopefully. But do tell about the Slam, I heard the set of rules once, I can't seem to remember.
—C: You need to succeed in four different public spaces under the following categories: a) Transportation—either city bus or school bus, basically. There's been discussion about whether the minivan for the sports team would qualify, but it's been ruled out as "not public enough". Also the vehicle must be in motion. b) Corridors and Classrooms—this one is pretty self-explanatory. Labs and the Art Room are allowed, but...
