In yet another excruciating find from the debris of Chickenhead's former domicile comes a story of sorts called "Solitude."
Jordan sat at her computer, typing in her journal. She had plenty to write about, having just broken up with her boyfriend of two years, Alex. She kept typing and typing and, before she knew it, she had typed three and a half pages. At twenty-six, she thought she was too old to be carrying on in this way. She thought about the mixed tapes she used to make for her boyfriends in high school, and the ones she made for herself after break-ups. She knew these tapes, with songs by Dokken, Danger Danger, and Beau Nasty, were somewhere in her parents’ house. Well, what did you listen to in the early nineties, or whenever you were in high school? Leave the girl alone.
She then went on the internet to download songs about loneliness, something she had been feeling since even before the break-up. She grabbed anything having to do with being alone, no matter whether she liked it. She copied songs by Laura Branigan, Eric Carmen, Gilbert O’Sullivan and others onto a CD. Quality didn’t matter in times like these, as even Roy Orbison, whom she had always made fun of her father for worshipping, was now bringing tears to her eyes. This was certainly an embarrassing moment for her roommate Marisa to walk in.
“Are you listening to Elvis?” Marisa asked in amazement.
“No,” Jordan replied. “It’s Roy Orbison.”
“What are you, sixty?” Marisa said. “And you’re crying. I’m calling 911.”
“Stop,” Jordan said. “I’m fine. I’m searching for songs about loneliness.”
“Because you broke up with that putz?”
“Well, what about ‘Lonesome Loser,’ by Little River Band?”
“Jeezy creezy, Miss Obscure-Song-Title-Reference-Girl,” Jordan said.
“From where did you pull that suggestion?”
“It was a big hit in, like, the late seventies,” Marisa replied. “My mother still loves them. And what about ‘Hey There, Lonely Girl,” or ‘None But The Lonely Heart,’ or ‘Only The Lonely’?”
“All right, who are you, Casey Kasem?” Jordan said. “Slow down. And I already have ‘Only The Lonely.’ That’s the Roy Orbison song.”
“No,” Marisa said. “There’s also the Motels song from the early eighties. You remember ‘Suddenly Last Summer’?”
“Good Lord,” Jordan said. “You’re like the non-evil version of Rick Dees.”
“Ohh, and don’t forget the theme from ‘The Lone Ranger’ and ‘Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band’.”
“All right, you’re drifting, Marisa,” Jordan said. “And no longer helping.”
“But, Jordan, you know what?”
“Okay, grow up,” Marisa said. “You should make a CD of songs having nothing to do with love or solitude or loneliness, like ‘Helter Skelter’ and
‘Kung-Fu Fighting.’ Ooh, is ‘Shaddup A You Face’ in there?”
“You are nuttier than squirrel shit. You know that?”
“I know,” Marisa continued. “Let’s watch wrestling! Or let’s go to Blockbuster and rent ‘Dick,’ ‘Pecker,’ ‘Private Parts,’ and ‘Snatch’.”
“That’s a malenky bit expensive for a stupid joke,” Jordan said.
“That’s it!” Marisa shouted. “Let’s go on a rampage of ultra-violence a la ‘A Clockwork Orange.’ Invite a couple droogies and bust some devotchkas in the gulliver real horrowshow.”
“Viddy well, my little ptitsa,” Marisa continued. “Don’t sit here all nochy being all oddy knocky and platching and razdraz.”
“You’re losing me, and I’ve read the book twice.”
“Tell me you’re interessovated in peeting and getting all pyahnitsa. Let some malchick filly with your groodies and your sharries.”
“All right, that I understood,” Jordan said. “You dirty, filthy girl.”
“Well I’m gonna itty over,” Marisa said. “You can sit here and horn to Bog and platch on your podooshka if you want. As for me, time to tolchock malchicks in the yarbles.”
“Oh, for the love of Bog,” Jordan said. “Let’s go.”
“Not so skorry,” Marisa said. “Give me at least one.”
“All right,” Jordan said. “My brooko is a malenky bit nadmenny.”
“Mm-hmm,” Marisa said. “You just told me your belly is arrogant, but that’s okay. We’re off.”
And the ladies had a wonderful evening out, and, for a while, Jordan forgot about Alex and her loneliness as she and Marisa terrorized children and old people and drank themselves silly, but made it home okay.