With the sun’s gentle rays caressing their skins and the
ocean’s waves to lull them into comfort, Scott and Adrienne strolled along the
beach together hand in hand without a care in the world. Scott’s tan cargo
shorts clung to his hips like he actually had the body of an athlete.
Adrienne’s purple bikini revealed her best physical features, though none could
match the beauty of her smile as she pecked her boyfriend on the cheek.
Somewhere in one of the straw huts, a portable stereo played
the underrated Sting classic “When We Dance”. And by god, the couple was going
to do just that. Scott spun his girlfriend around and leaned her backwards
while she lifted one of her gorgeous bare feet in the air. The two lovers
shared another kiss together, this one much longer and more passionate than the
first.
The two hugged each other and slow-danced to Sting’s lyrics.
When Adrienne asked him why his face grew serious all of the sudden, Scott
said, “Can we never leave this beach? Do we have to go back to Perkins City
“Trust me, babe, I’d love nothing more than to spend forever
with you on this beach. We have everything we’ll ever need here: good food,
gentle waves, and enough sunshine to keep us warm until the end of time,” said
Adrienne in a seductive voice. Her face also grew serious when she finished her
sentiment with, “Unfortunately, we have to go back soon. Vacations are only
temporary as we both know from going to school all the time. It seems like time
is just flying by and we can’t catch up with it.”
Scott embraced his girlfriend tightly and begged, “No, I’m
not going back! Please don’t make me go back. I fucking hate that place. It’s
like a reverse fucking Disneyland !”
Adrienne pushed him to a close distance and said, “I know,
Scott. Trust me, I know. If I go back to Perkins City
“I don’t want this life anymore,” confessed Scott. “I’ve
waited all this time to be free and I’m not going to just have it snatched up
from underneath me.”
“But then who’s going to pay the bills, honey? What will we
do for money? This beach isn’t paying our rent. It’s just an escape from our
responsibilities. Whether we like it or not, we’re part of a community.”
“No, don’t say that word! Don’t say the C-word!” snapped
Scott as he dropped to his knees and covered his ears. “Don’t say that fucking
word! I hate that word! Oh god, oh god, oh god, I hate that word!”
“Scott, please! You’re scaring me! I didn’t mean to trigger
you!” said a frightened Adrienne as he gently rested her palm on her
boyfriend’s shoulder. The minute Scott’s tears splashed on the soft sand, she
hugged him around the head and comforted him with, “I’m sorry. I’ll never say
that word again. We can stay here if you’d like. It’s not like this island is
in short supply of jobs or anything like that.”
“Jobs?” wept Scott. “Who’s going to hire me? What boss in
his right mind wants to hire a guy who falls to pieces after every little
thing?”
Placing both hands on her boyfriend’s shoulders and giving
him a stern look, Adrienne said, “You have to take responsibility to wake up
from your nightmares. You can’t live this way forever, my dear. I can only do
so much for you. Now it’s your turn to fight back against the world. You can’t
let these people beat you so easily. Fight for me, Scott. Fight for us. Fight
for our child!”
The two of them stood up slowly together and Scott’s watery
eyes were now staring lovingly into his girlfriend’s sweet face. “You’re right,
babe. You’re absolutely right. I’m sorry I acted the way I did. Can you do me
one last favor before we leave here? Kiss me. Kiss me as hard as you can. If
I’m going to fight for what’s right, then I’m going to need all the strength I
can get.”
“Of course I’ll kiss you, silly. Come here.” Just as
promised, the two of them locked lips and swirled their tongues in each other’s
mouths. Adrienne’s lips became much more aggressive as Scott held her closer.
Scott closed his eyes and enjoyed the passionate kiss…until
he felt some strange presences crawling around on his tongue. He forcefully
pulled away and his eyes shot open in horror at the face he was now gazing
into. The visage of Aloysius Striker sang her operatic “Good Morning” song
while Scott desperately spit out worm after worm, maggot after maggot. He stuck
his index finger in his mouth and barfed the last of the worms onto the sand
below, turning his body nearly inside out from the deadly force.
“Good morning to you! Good morning to you! Good morning,
dear Scotty! Good morning to you!” Mrs. Striker’s voice became progressively
deeper and more demonic as she sang her whimsical tune. Her teeth looked more
dangerous than those of a great white shark. Her evilly-slanted eyes glowed
with orange neon. The worms in the back of her throat slithered down her jaw
and all Scott could do about it was scream his head off.
“Order! Order in the courtroom!” commanded the judge as he
smashed his gavel and awakened Scott from his nightmare. Drenched in sweat and
still wearing his hospital scrubs, he found himself back in the defendant’s
chair with his lawyer by his side. Scott’s breathing grew deeper and deeper
while his lawyer tried to calm him down with shoulder pats.
“Has the jury reached a verdict?” asked the judge.
“We have, your honor,” said the lead juror. Scott’s hazy
vision was now laser focused as his heart beat quickly and adrenaline flooded
his nervous system. Even though his “vacation” with Adrienne was only
temporary, he had to take that lesson to heart: fight for what you believe in.
Fight for what’s right. Never give up. This internal monologue steeled his raw
nerves to where he could focus on the verdict. No matter what the jury decided,
this fight wouldn’t be over by a long shot and Scott showed that with his
eyebrows furrowed.
“In the case of The People vs. Scott George, on one count
statutory rape, we find the defendant Mr. Scott George…guilty as charged.”
“No!” cried Adrienne from a far corner of the courtroom
while the judge’s gavel banging restored order to a chaotic situation. No
amount of mallet whacking could drain the tears from Adrienne Simpson’s eyes as
she hugged her mother tightly.
“Bail set at five thousand dollars. Thank you, members of
the jury. Bailiff, please take the defendant away. I’ll hand down his sentence
soon enough. Case dismissed,” said the judge before banging the gavel one last
time.
The bailiff grabbed Scott’s arm and brought him to his feet
before cuffing his hands behind his back and pulling him away. The defendant’s
eyes watered as his lawyer mouthed the words, “I’m sorry for everything.” Scott
nodded at him as he was being half-dragged down the aisle.
“Scott!” shouted Adrienne as she rushed to the center,
stopping the bailiff and his charge in their tracks. She placed a hand on her
boyfriend’s shoulder and whisper-sobbed, “Promise me this isn’t over! Promise
me you’ll fight through the pain!”
“I promise you, Adrienne. We will see each other again.” He
tried to kiss her, but was immediately pulled away by the scruff of his neck.
He never took his eyes off of his beautiful, yet sorrowful Adrienne Simpson,
even when she turned away to hug her mother once more.
Before Scott could cross the threshold leading to the
outside world, he distinctly heard his girlfriend shout, “I’m not a goddamn
victim, you assholes!” The uncaring judge banged the gavel even louder in order
to shut her up.
The one thing that raced through Scott’s mind as he was
being hauled away into the police car was anxiety over whether or not he made a
promise he couldn’t keep. Maybe the two of them would see each other again…in
the next life. Maybe there could finally be justice in a political climate
where there was none…in the next life. Maybe the world would finally pull its
head out of its ass…in the next life.
Such a funny phrase for someone as atheistic as Scott
George: the next life. He had only heard about its beauty through the Pop Evil
song of the same name. Even without his trusty MP3 player, he could still hear
Leigh Kakaty’s golden voice crooning that lovely rock tune to him. Scott was
surprised that his mind was cooperative for a change instead of trying to
force-feed him worms, or worse yet, the philosophy of a conformist community.
In many ways, the prison system was a “community” of its own.
Everybody wore the same clothing. Everybody did the same activities. Ate the
same disgusting food. Lived with the same disgusting people. Lived by the rules
of the same disgusting prison guards. Lived under the thumb of a warden who
could only be described as Aloysius Striker on steroids. And to think, that
woman was actually a real person instead of a traumatic Floydian ghost.
That reminded Scott of something that brought out even more
wormy feelings in his stomach: would he see Alan Young in prison too? What kind
of person would he become after such a short time of captivity? Alan was
already a nasty son of a bitch. What would he look like in an orange jumpsuit?
Would he be covered in prison tattoos? Would he look twice as ugly as when he
went in? Would he actually be good at fighting this time around? Scott somehow
took solace in the idea that the other prisoners wouldn’t put up with his
rotten attitude. But even that modicum of solace wasn’t enough to shut up the
worms in Scott’s belly and brain. Where was a gavel when he needed one?
