Going Fly by Christian McPherson

Author:Christian McPherson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Now or Never Publishing
Published: 2018-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

GOING FLY

Before he was Door-Knob, he was Mathew Dean Grant; Matt to his friend (for he really only had one). Most of the people in the neighbourhood called him Door-Matt on account of his low IQ and the fact that some kid named George Woodhouse called him that in Grade 3 and it had stuck ever since.

The superhero-like transformation from Door-Matt to Door-Knob began while huffing glue in a Vanier park near the Silver Dollar strip club. Mathew and his only friend Carl had spent their afternoon drinking rum and cokes there while watching Carl’s four months pregnant sister Angie spinning nude on a pole. Carl thought his sister had a great bod and was happy to see Door-Matt taking such an interest in her despite the baby-bump. Carl thought it would be cool to have DoorMatt as his brother-in-law. Besides, the kid was going to need a father and Door-Matt would be a prudent choice. To celebrate Door-Matt’s perceived adoration of Angie, Carl whipped out a tube of model airplane glue and announced that they should get good and high.

Local radio station Turn it UP! was running a contest that involved their signature logo, an old fashioned car radio button etched with the station’s number, 86.6 FM. The knob was surrounded by a clockwise yellow swirling arrow which stated “Turn it UP!” in contrasting red letters. Turn it UP! was offering a round trip for two to Cancun, Mexico plus five thousand dollars in spending money. All you had to do to enter the contest was send a selfie to the station with a temporary tattoo of theirknob logo somewhere on your body.

The advertising image Carl and Door-Matt saw when they passed by a bus stop was of a busty blonde in cut off jean shorts, blowing a kiss, with a knob tattoo decorating the top of her barely covered right breast. Carl commented on the advertisement, stating quite plainly that he would sure like to play with her knobs. The comment set off an electrical-chemical reaction in the poorly functioning, alcohol and model airplane glue infused neurons of his friend Door-Matt. In other words, Door-Matt suddenly had an incredibly stupid idea.

“I’m going to win that contest, dude!” he exclaimed.

“How?” asked Carl.

“I’m going to get that button tattooed right here on my cheek,” said Door-Matt, pointing to his face. For Carl, high on glue and booze, Door-Matt’s face stretched and loomed like a talking cartoon dog. It caused Carl to tilt away from his friend and utter, “Whoa.”

“Yeah man, I’ll win that contest and then we’ll sip fancy drinks with umbrellas on the beach.” “How do you know you’ll win?”

“Because I’m going to get it on my face! On my mother fucking face!”

Carl’s head spun with this information. All that came out of his mouth was another “Whoa.”

“Come on, let’s go find Stain and see if he’ll do my ink.”

The buzz of the tattoo gun sounded like a flying insect, which was appropriate considering Stain was finishing up the colour of a giant wasp on the meaty forearm of the shirtless biker before him.

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