You can continue to enjoy or despise it there.

This is another one from the Writer’s Digest weekly prompts:

You head into the bathroom at work, walk into a stall and close the door. Moments later, as you leave the stall, you notice two people standing there and there’s one major problem: They are of the opposite sex. On the spot, you make up an excuse as to why you are in their bathroom.

I ad-libbed a little bit (a whole lot…).  =)

Whoever was in the stall next to me took an extremely long, powerful leak. Not unfamiliar to the men’s room, but when I exited the stall, I was greeted with a mane of fiery red curls – at least that’s what I could gather under the blue lights which illuminated the club’s bathroom.

“Excuse me,” I said, bracing myself for some sort of exclamation. As the infiltrator looked up, the other stall door opened. In the mirror, I found myself between two beautiful women. Perhaps it was I who had wandered into the wrong bathroom. Having held my business for a 10-minute bus ride, I didn’t care where I ended up, as long as it was on a toilet.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I was just – “

“Oh honey, what are you apologizing for?” the redhead asked with a slight falsetto and turned around.

Not sure what I was dealing with, I tried to make up an excuse for whatever the situation was.

“Where am I?” was all I could come up with. I was staring at a urinal. Yep, this was definitely the mens’ room, yet I was the one caught off guard.

“You’re in the right place, love,” said the other, a short brunette, who clicked toward me with her platform heels. Her voice was significantly lower than the other’s. “We’ve got ourselves a looker tonight, Jezzie.”

The redhead, Jezebel, was still looking at me as she stretched her lanky right arm toward the door and turned the lock. She licked her lips. Both ladies edged towards me. I was hypnotized. Their heels clicked against the pounding beat of the music that played just outside the door. It was a strangely erotic dream come true. I rose up a bit as their breasts only teased me with grazing touches, and licked my lips as I locked eyes with them as they came into my eyes’ sight. My heart was pulsating heartily at some odd rhythm out of sync with the clicks and pounds.

I moaned a little bit when I was finally sandwiched between the two of them. Our personal bubbles were entwined, when the touch of someone’s crowbar popped mine. Not cool. I was immediately rigid again.

“Don’t mind that, sugar,” the brunette said. “The only one we want to play with is yours.”

“Sorry ladies,” I said. “It was a good time. But I think that we ought to share the bathroom.”

I unlocked the door, opened it and said, “Maybe I’ll see you out there.” When the last syllable ended, I let the door close behind me and swore the adventure wouldn’t follow me out.

I call it Rancho…

People thought I was crazy. They didn’t understand how I could eat Rancho Taquito every day. Having worked as a chef with a partner company, I knew the restaurant’s secrets. Unfortunately for everyone else, I wasn’t able to tell anyone. All I can say is that it’s not as bad as they think.

An ambulance siren sang on this sunny afternoon in Palm Beach. Being from New York, I learned to ignore them. Right now, I was craving a Guaquito like no other, so I turned up the radio and sped down the street past brightly colored buildings and some trees.

When I rolled up to the box, convertible-top down, I gazed at the menu. A minute later, I heard a familiar voice say, “Welcome to Rancho Taquito. What can I get for you?”

“Hey Randy,” I said. “I’ll have a Guaquito con queso, Ranchito Burrito extra spicy and Jalapeño Nachos.” I paused. “Yea, I think that covers all the food groups.”

I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Fleetwood Mac song on the radio. Randy was taking too long to respond to confirm my order, so I turned the music down, leaned out of the car and was taken by surprise when the sound box came back on.

“Hey Booger, can you cover for the new girl at all this week?” that was the manager, Leroy.

“You serious?” Booger shouted.

“Yea, man,” Leroy yelled. “Girl got bit by a shark!”

I was astounded. Sure, I knew most of the staff personally, but the new girl was my girlfriend Shandra – she’d just accepted a position as a part-time chef at the restaurant. And I hadn’t heard a thing about a shark bite. The blue Honda behind me honked its horn.

“Yo, Randy!” I said into the box. “What’s up?”

“That’ll be eight-fifty, Mr. Rhodes,” Randy said, in his usual bored tone. “Please drive up to the window.”

I think my eye twitched as I accelerated. I hoped they were going to talk to me there.

“What’s up?” Randy asked. Nothing. He was a pale-faced, perpetually uninterested 23-year-old who hadn’t gotten over his acne, yet.

Leroy came to the window. “Hey Joe,” he said, smiling sympathetically. “Food’s on the house today.”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, not concerned with my Guaquito.  “What’s going on with Shandra?”

“Oh,” Leroy scratched his head. “You don’t know. You should probably go to the hospital.” He tossed my food out of the drive-thru window and closed it as the bag landed in my lap.

Disturbed by how detached everyone seemed, I drove out of the parking lot toward the hospital down the street. I’d seen shark attacks on the news, but wasn’t prepared to handle one.

I walked, timid and shaky, into the emergency room.

“There was a lot of blood,” the nurse said.

It was a while before they let me see her but when she showed me the gashes, I said, “That’s gonna be a sexy scar.”

I found this one at Writer’s Digest (and have also posted it at their forums):

You and a friend break into your neighborhood swim club late one night to go for an after-hours dip. While splashing around in the pool, you go into shock when a dead body floats to the top. Worse yet—it’s someone you know. Write this scene.

“It’s fucking hot out here,” Jamie said, wiping his brow. The two of us sat on my apartment’s deck. It was humid, as most Delaware summer nights tend to be, and we had nothing to do. That wasn’t new, but we were tired of it.

A glimmer caught my eye. Jamie must have seen it, too, because he was out of his chair, screaming, “I’m going swimming. Are you coming?”

The pool had been closed for hours. The only light came from a harvest moon. I’d never skinny-dipped before and with no lights, no one could see my special bits.

As Jamie hopped the fence, it clattered and echoed in the otherwise quiet night. He dove in and I heard a refreshed, “Ahhh,” while I was struggling to climb up and down the fence without making too much noise. I succeeded in doing just the opposite. No one seemed to take notice. I eyeballed the pool.

“What are you waiting for?” Jamie demanded.

“Shut up,” I mumbled and stripped to my underwear. I sat down at the edge, slipped my foot in the water and shivered. It was cold but it was just what I needed.

“Stop stalling,” Jamie shouted and splashed me. I responded by kicking water in his face, then complied by jumping in with a nice cannonball, if I do say so myself. After I’d gotten over my chills, I removed the rest of my clothes and came to realize what I had been missing in all my years in hiding.

I was feeling good until Jamie decided to take advantage of my self-liberation. He casually “brushed up” against me. I splashed him away when, like a bad movie, he called from the shallow end.

“What are you splashing at?”

I swam to the closest edge and leapt out of the water like a trained dolphin. “Get out. There’s somebody in there.”

In the moonlight, I could see Jamie’s face was surprised and doubtful. Instead of getting out, he swam to where I pointed. A minute later, I heard his voice, softer than usual, “Hey Steph, you might want to get a flashlight.”

My cell phone was in my towel, so I grabbed it and ran, still free, into the shallow end. Jamie swam over. I shined the light from my phone on a mess of black wavy hair. I held my breath and he turned the body over.

It was my roommate Sam. She hadn’t been home for a few days. From the trail of red that followed we knew that whatever had happened was recent and wasn’t an accident. I bit my tongue and looked away. Jamie pulled her out of the water, looked her over and said, “I’ve been waiting?” The words had been carved into Sam’s body.

“Is this for me?” I asked, looking around nervously.

Jamie studied her, “This isn’t good.”

She was pale, make-up streaming down her face. Her eyes were still open, staring as if someone was behind us.

As I chatted with her tonight, I came to find out that a few of her friends applied and interviewed for the same position that I was hired for. The position is a Studio Associate at Portrait Innovations (a portrait studio based in North Carolina). Responsibilities include interacting with customers, taking portraits, selling packages and printing said portraits.

Boring, yes? What’s interesting is that I beat out photography majors for the “photographer” position. I have to give myself a little bit of a pat on the back for that.

To be fair, the job description did mention that photography experience wasn’t necessary and that the position was more focused on sales.

I don’t know Kerri’s friends, and I don’t want to put them down – but somehow, I was more qualified for the position. From what I can guess, either my personality or past job experience that edged me out.

Whatever it was, I’m happy I’ve got it. To be hired so soon in the “Epic Job Hunt,” while NPR News and most of the U.S. population is concerned about the economic crisis is a great accomplishment. I think so, at least.

I’ve been offered a full-time position at a portrait studio which will be opening in Delaware in the beginning of September. The studio is called Portrait Innovations. It should be a great job. I’ve worked in customer service since I can remember and now I’ll be selling something I actually believe in. Everyone needs a family portrait. I think it’ll be a good experience all around (job experience, a good place to be, etc.).

The studio is all digital and the entire process of taking, choosing and printing photos shouldn’t take more than an hour. I can’t wait to start training.

It may or may not give me a new angle to work on this blog. Either way, I’ll still be writing.

I’ve been working on a resume for several months. One has gotten me an interview. After a massive revision, I’ve been told it looks much better, so I think that will help me a bit on The Epic Job Hunt.

I will update after the interviews.

Sunday afternoon, everyone drearily returned to the parking lot after a late night at Load of Fun.

Ami Dang danced. Blood Baby screamed and the audience screamed back. They created a minor mosh pit with everyone at least nodding their heads with the rhythm. Child Bite was high energy and their joystick-happy lead singer was nothing but entertaining at all times. The Crazy Dreams Band reminded me of a old classic rock hippie band with their singer swinging her hair around as she sang.

Future Islands kept things entertaining as front man Sam Herring put on his show face and enacted the characters from whose voice he sang. As dramatic as Herring was, an audience member kept things lighthearted as he blew bubbles onto the stage and into the crowd actually becoming a strange part of the act.

Sunday’s energy only became more intense as Double Dagger took the stage. The post-hardcore band from Baltimore knew what the crowd wanted to hear and Nolen didn’t only give them what they wanted, but he jumped down into the crowd and joined the pit that swirled around in front of the stage.

It climaxed with the Dan Deacon ensemble, which nearly broke my legs on the stage and I’ve been bearing my bruises to prove it. Deacon’s music, while experimental and electronic, is somehow religious when experienced live. Deacon himself draws people to him, but has a sense of audience control that after the first song finished, he mentioned how their energy shouldn’t be used to push forward, but rather up and down – and that’s what the crowd did.

The set consisted of off-stage performances, lead by Joshua Kelberman and Sam Herring on separate occasions of a Simon Says-type dance, and a relay race that involved nearly everyone in the middle of the large crowd that stood in front of the stage.

Familiar faces from previous stages returned in different bands – Adam of Letters and The Creepers was kicking and screaming with Blood Babies, Connor of Letters and The Creepers was dressed in a tiger suit with Joshua Kelberman playing an electric ukulele in Santa Dads, and later Greg Fox from Liturgy joined Teeth Mountain, the tribal trance group, and the Dan Deacon Ensemble. Everyone in the Dan Deacon ensemble had performed earlier in the weekend.

These reappearances solidified the efforts of this year’s Whartscape. In every message about the festival, the Wham City group mentioned that Whartscape 2009 was going to be focused more on community than big names. Many were Baltimore natives. All the performers were energetic and most were interactive with the crowd, shouting “Happy Whartscape” at the beginnings or ends of their sets. By the end of the weekend, everyone had grown a little closer to the people they’d been packed into tiny spaces with for three days.

Most surprising and pleasant was how well-organized and how smoothly the festival ran. There were barely any glitches, and any holes in the line-ups were quickly patched up by bringing in one of the later acts or some sort of amusing method of stalling (i.e. Comedy time with Mason on Friday afternoon).

It was a happy Whartscape indeed.

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Saturday was plagued with clouds overhead and winds that threatened to ruin the day. Just in case, blue tarps were hung over the stages set up at the small MICA parking lot. The fluttered about during the blustery day but the rain never did come. Food, clothing, jewelry and musicians’ merchandise lined the sides of the parking lot. The festival, though, wasn’t restricted to the parking lot. The McDonald’s a bit down North Avenue found its bathrooms victims to Whartscape, while Cyclops, a small bookstore and venue across the street, opened itself up to festival-goers, offering free drinks and food.

Some people brought blankets and chairs, others sat right on the asphalt. It was a long day, but most braved it out and stood – watching the musicians and roaming back and forth between the stages like zombies craving music rather than brains.

Wherever they were, it wouldn’t have mattered. The music permeated the air of North Avenue and the rest of the Station North Arts District. The Creepers serenaded with songs about life and relationships. Little Howlin’ Wolf had everyone sitting down in front of him, as if it were story time and calmed with the jazzy, yet somehow tribal sounds of his drums and saxophone. He continued his performance on a street corner after his time slot. Liturgy, a post-hardcore band from Brooklyn, was playing their first show outside New York.

Despite the “headliners,” Saturday’s highlights had to have been the What Cheer? Brigade marching band from Providence, R.I. and Nuclear Power Pants – whose members hailed from Baltimore and Providence.

Sexy outfits? Check. Attitude? Check. Audience interaction? Check. Drums? Check. Brass section? Hold on. That’s not really a standard when it comes to most things bad ass. It is, however, standard for a marching band and the What Cheer? Brigade marching band brings those two things together. They marched and danced through the crowd with style and soul, screaming and shouting at the crowd to get involved and move around. Everything was in constant motion. They were undeniably Saturday’s biggest and busiest act.

Nuclear Power Pants had this odd, luring stage presence about them. With black lights and bright ponchos and neon lizard heads, they caught eyes and didn’t let go. Back-up singers/dancers made them catchy. Their music had layers and hook, and despite the slower BPM, people still danced.

After Ponytail‘s energetic set, which left some bruised and everyone with an adrenaline rush, it was time to move to the final festival’s third location at the Load of Fun. The LOF/t was a black theater box, which was nice and cool and housing experimental musicians like Ed Schrader with his funny song stories which he accompanied on his tom tom, Spellcaster, who tried to channel Hendrix with his guitar feedback music, and Married in Berdichev who experimented with her voice and loops.

The front of Load of Fun was packed with people who wanted to see the more upbeat acts like Plural MC, Ear Pwr and Adventure. Halfway through the night, the floor was soaked with sweat and the mirrors which hung above the doors had fogged up.

Adventure‘s 8-bit type music splashed with Benny’s interludes on the keyboard had a large crowd dancing, which stayed for Ear Pwr‘s fun, energetic, electric six song set. Devin Booze shouting and fiddling around with electronics in a suitcase while Sarah Reynolds singing and rapping about colors and animals.

There weren’t any visible stresses to the audience. Some of the acts were moved around, others were dropped, but the day went incredibly smoothly. Props.

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