KEVIN STANIEC DOT COM

As a child I traveled space mountains, rocketed to the moon and joined a ragtag crew of astronauts on their mission to deliver a gift to the wicked alien queen. Throughout these interplanetary explorations I survived solely on cinnamon churros and assorted sour candy balls.

On one occasion, when smiling overenthusiastically while gallivanting galaxies, a bug flew into my mouth, splashing onto my teeth, smearing across my central incisor. I enjoyed the rest of my day at the happiest place on earth occasionally using my tongue in an attempt to dislodge what I thought was food stuck in my gums.

My mother would later point out the common housefly smashed against my grill as she would scrape at it with her fingernail until it was finally gone.

I still miss Fuzzball, Idee and Odee, Major Domo, Minor Domo, and Hooter. Until they bring Captain EO back I can only afford Disneyland four stars.

An email from a friend in San Francisco: “I am making a super fun toy. If I send one to the gallery will you get it?”

Before I could reply to her first message, she wrote another note: “Well, I just broke it… so, never mind. But if I can ever get it right, I’ll send you one.”

I woke up with the thought “I have an idea…” in my head, but I didn’t have any clue as to what I was talking about, so I stopped paying attention.

How to heal a broken heart: share, give half to her.

I found my three-piece suit hidden however behind the swag sack wrapped plastic Christmas tree at the back of my garage in a torn garment bag, which someone thought it smart to fix both the coat and carrier with duct tape (probably my bright idea).

I haven’t slipped into this elegant formal fitting straight jacket since my high school basketball banquet. Reluctantly, I tried on the trousers, vest and jacket for size… the pants were up mid-calf, the jacket resting thin and tight on my upper forearms and the vest looked like a tube top.

I wore it anyway… it smelled like old.

Another Wedding. Another night sneaking drinks around back while befriending the bartender because he seems to be the only single left at the party. As fate would have it we both recently broke up with our girlfriends and were angry together.

Cue “Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns” by Mother Love Bone.

FADE IN:

EXT. LONG BEACH – DAY

MICHAEL, tall, slender and soft-spoken, strides along the sidewalk of Second Street, his hands deep in pocket, head hanging low, watching his shoes slowly stepping forward. The clouds are overwhelming.

He is following BRIDGET, his girlfriend, who is wearing a little lavender sundress with large sunglasses. She turns into “Blue Windows”, a quaint-qualifying boutique that fits comfortably beside your heart like home.

It is obvious Bridget is avoiding Michael as she conveniently distracts herself with a collection of hand crafted jewelry sets. Michael peruses a corner of unique dresses. Holding a few up in front of him while standing before the mirror. Bridget, not amused, walks around to the other side of the center divider denying any association between the two of them.

Michael continues past her toward the back of the shop only to stop at a crooked table leaning against a wall with a series of soy wax scented candles. He decides to smell selected samples: orange lemongrass, mango papaya and white lily. A simple smile interrupts his melancholy mood.

He walks over toward Bridget, interrupting her conversation with an employee. Reaching his hand delicately over and around her shoulder while gently holding a candle beneath her nose… a soft scent of chardonnay and apricots.

She turns toward Michael, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest, forgiving.

CUT TO:

INT. APARTMENT- NIGHT

The lights in the bedroom are out with the wick of a candle lit atop the bedside nightstand, “Sweet Love” by Anita Baker playing softly in the background.

FADE OUT:

Neither here nor there… still searching for my intimate everywhere.