Hairstyles of the Damned by Joe Meno

Author:Joe Meno [Meno, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ebook, General Fiction
ISBN: 9781417657544
Publisher: Turtleback
Published: 2004-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

three

I fell in love with a girl named Dorie. She was Mike’s neighbor and the moment I met her, I was so into her it was not even funny. Most girls I didn’t really fall for at first, like Gretchen, who had been my friend for so long that it probably would have never worked out, and, well, I was not one of those kind of guys who was very particular with girls. Mike told me to take what I could get, so I did. There were tons and tons of mostly decent-looking girls who wanted some nondescript, renegade, loner-type to de-virginize them so they could have it over and done with and so they never had to see the doofus again. That was where I liked to think I came in, though it hadn’t happened like that exactly for me yet. Monica Dallas: over the bra. Kelly Madley: down her pants. Kathy Konoplowski: not totally de-virginized, but close.

OK, so the first time I met Dorie it was a Friday night and about a month since Mike’s mom had gone crazy. Mike had to finally go out and get a job, at DiBartola’s Pizza, which was this take-out place by his house, which meant he was not home from work until after eleven most nights. So that night, I had to sneak out of my house through my bedroom window, which was ground level, and ride my bike over, then walk down the basement steps. “Moonlight Drive” by the Doors was playing loud; I could hear it even when I was outside. When I came down, like that, there she was: this tall girl just sitting on the sofa beside Mike, smoking a roach, and she had on this Iron Maiden “Somewhere in Time” T-shirt, which must have been black once but was now gray and soft from being worn so often. Dorie was tall and skinny and had long greasy brown hair that was cut in bangs. Fuck. No girl had bangs that I knew, they all wore their fucking hair in ponytails. I mean, fuck. Also, she had this love bite, you know, on her neck; one bright red mark at the base of her throat. Which to me meant she must have fooled around, I dunno. She was sitting down there in Mike’s basement and cussing out this other dude we knew, Larry with the superbad acne, and she was yelling at him for him spilling his beer on her shoe and Larry, quiet as he was because of his uncontrollable pimples, just nodded and apologized, wiping it up off the tip of her black boot. Then, by mistake, Larry with the superbad acne looked up and smiled and simply said, “Sorry, dude.”

“Do I look like a dude to you, you fuckface?” she asked.

Fuckface? I thought to myself. Who even uses the word “fuckface”?

The girl of your dreams, my heart said.

Immediately, and I know this is weird, I had this kind of vision, this daydream: I imagined

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