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The Rivals by Michael Harris Adrian Belfast, a young and aspiring author, chances upon the works of one Lucas Slaughter, a person... [5,415 words]
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Strong Enough For A Man
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Curiosty by Kristopher K Starliper Alex regrets his curiosity. [209 words]
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And The Winner Is by Liilia Morrison A summer camp sports competition has a surprise ending [1,132 words]
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A Soldiers Recount by Corey Moon This is a made up story that is based off a battle in WWII. [1,829 words]
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20 Dollars To Fear by Jimmy Mason This story hold a special place in my heart. A story of a strange night in a bar [1,437 words]

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TITLE (EDIT)
Strong Enough For A Man
DESCRIPTION
Can life get worse when you smell armpits all day? It may when you have a pothead roommate and the untouchable girl.
[1,066 words]
TITLE KEYWORD
Drama
AUTHOR
Eric Bridges
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A wannabe writer who is young and in hopes that somebody will like his stories.
[June 2007]
Strong Enough For A Man
Eric Bridges

“What do you mean by bang her out? Is that your knock the woman out, drag her back to the cave by her hair love making? Not my style.”
His eyes unwrapped, focused, and then tightened.
“I’m sorry Bairn. I forgot your all about the feelings thing. I missed my homo lessons this morning, so excuse my ways. I’ll have more than my right hand to come home to tonight…”
“I’m left handed. Gimme my weed.”
The door punctuated the existence of a fake relationship. It was time for Employee 855 to toil.
The mouth opened and I was the pill going in. The useless white lab coat held me close.
“Employee 855… Report to Room 62. You’re late.”
“I got a name; I don’t know what it is with you guys and numbers.”
A look of no concern greeted me. I did the white tile shuffle to Room 62. Blow the nose and enter the room. The tester and tested made a lot of no-noise. I showed the ready nod and commenced.
The tester said, “We will be testing multiple deodorants today. The standard protocol will be used, also including physical performance.”
The pasty residue roofed the armpit as the tested performed a rough rendition of spirit fingers. After application was done, I showed my shamelessness.
“Employee 855, your feedback please.”
My face moved in and I stared at the jungle of love that this man called his armpit. The nose pierced his hairy forest and took a big snuffle. Wiping my snout was the precursor to the response.
“The smell is crisp and clean but may have a little too much of a pine smell. It’s almost like Lysol. It may require a reduction in the fragrance.”
The tester condemned me from behind the clipboard. If I found a flaw it just meant more work for him. He said, “Lets not jump to any conclusions yet, not until after the physical test.”
His punch below the belt was devastating in our noiseless warfare. It was one thing to test smell a deodorant covered armpit but it was a whole new spectrum when the armpit was covered in sweat. The tester motioned for the tested to begin jogging on the treadmill. Each foot hit and created a much more stressful work environment. As sweat accumulated, I remembered my trainer Employee 712 trying to explain my everyday duties.
“Essentially, you bury your face in armpits all day and report which deodorant isn’t working. When I say you bury the face, I mean you really have to get a nose full of hair. I’ve done this for 17 years and stopped wearing deodorant after the first six months. You’ll get to that point someday. You might get lucky and run across somebody with a shaven pit but most of the time it will be pretty nasty. Be honest about your opinion and don’t piss off the testers. If you do they can make your unbearable work intolerable.”
It was all the training I was given. A rather useless tool for the job nobody wanted. The tester decided an hour of jogging would do the trick, and he called the tested back over.
“Employee 855, please give your feedback.” He was corking the wine of laughter that desperately wanted to be poured out and drank up. The oily massage I received on my nose was enjoyed by none and loved by all. Lunch time.
The cafeteria was senseless just like the rest of the building. Fluorescent lighting made the ceiling a checkerboard. She sat down.
“How is work today?”
I stammered, “Oh, you know the usual. Armpits and all.” I’m an idiot.
“Sorry to hear that. I’m hoping to go down to the lake this weekend… Um… Bairn you have something on your face.”
Swiping my face, she leaned over and plucked the object. Between her fingers was a chandelier of armpit hair. Disgusted with the work benefit and me, she quickly tossed it away.
“Ha, well that was gross. So what were you saying about the lake?” I was trying to make the hair become a skipped beat lost in a song. Her revulsion proved otherwise.
“Nothing. Well, I should get back to work. Talk to you later.”
I spluttered out to the back of her lab coat, “Your right. I should be getting back to work too.”
I finished the last six tedious hours of work and stringing hair out on the way home. The tope hallway making my lackluster welcome gave me another kick to the ribs.
“So did you do it today? Did you knock it off?”
“Leave it be Bryce. It wasn’t a good day.”
His laughter pounded the back of my head.
“Dude, you sniff armpits for a living, every single day is a bad one. I never even knew that was a job until I met you. As far as I see it you have one choice and it involves a gun barrel to the mouth. Get it over with now but lay some plastic down before you do so the carpet doesn’t get fucked up.”
Detestation festered. My toes turned to face him.
“The low that I have hit is my own doing. I keep waking up everyday thinking that my like sucks more than everybody else’s. I pick the armpit hair off my face; I wipe the gel from my nose, and wake up and do it all over again.” Voice was unwavering.
Bryce kept smiling that stupid smile. He was trying to make the situation weigh less. The bong was lifted, hoisted, shattered. His face drooped, eyebrows straightened along with his legs. Toes were stepping on toes.
“You say one more thing about my job, my life, or anything else it’s gonna get nasty. I don’t know a lot but I know you are going to sleep eventually, and that’s when you get the extra smile cut on your neck.” Shoulders were flexed.
Bryce stared me up and down. Ground was slipping from under him. After he snuck back to the couch, he lit up another bowl.
I realized while lying in bed that I might have to worry about Bryce taking initiative. How much worse could it really get? Other jobs existed but none had the attention giving face of her. The female persuasion is what kept me getting up every morning.

 

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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2007 Eric Bridges
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
June 2007
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
1353
 

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