Running and running. The beast at my heels was the intense ignorance of my peers.
– Queef Chapter 2

“Alright Old Man, just eat around the area you destroyed.” I stalled and looked down. Jess reached over and cut around my handprint with her pocket knife. My jaw unhitched, and I shoved a most massive portion of chocolate matter into myself.
“Alright grab the tray, let’s deliver our gift, and enjoy this hell house.”
Walking up the mountain I started to suspect something strange about this present, my head became ever so slightly airy, and my feet began to go soft and tingle, ever so slightly. We reached the top and I tried to formulate a question about my suspicions , but couldn’t. I couldn’t make out the right words and decided not to speak. The journey inside through the flock and into the back room was filled with jolted visuals. Slow, and then fast. My attention to color was intense.
I stood before Anne, her grin oozing and dripping from her face. The brownies were presented, as a sacrificial virgin to the slaughter. “MY FAVORITE…I ..LOVE..YOU GUYS." A choir of monk-like hymns buzzed behind my eyes, reverberating out from my central core.

Warm, everything was warm.
They all ate from the dish.
Anne’s laughter peaked,
I thought I was going to cry.

 I was so emotional, hearing her pure ecstasy, I wanted nothing more than for Anne to be happy. My eyes began to water, and Jess popped this emotional outpour. "Stay cool Sam!”
 “There’s shrooms in the brownies”   I heard while my attention was drawn to this Victorian lamp glowing in the corner. Oh shit.  

My thoughts stuttered and flipped between cautious and reckless, perhaps some paranoia. The groups every expression was carefully noted and archived into my memory. Charlie carried a big stupid grin around the room. With that big stupid grin came a big stupid laugh. I loved it; he was so lucid. His eyes turned giant and watery black, glowing blobs illuminating his beauty. I became self conscious and turned away.
“Let’s dance!” Jess howled, and we moved toward the door. Charlie pushed me and quickly smeared my cheek with a kiss.

Inside me was somewhere I’d never been before.

 Jess and Charlie went to the dance floor, Anne the snack table, and I saw Zen in a shitty rusted folding chair.   On the outskirts of the limelight, I watched my friends. In joyous rapture, Jess and Charlie embraced something primal as they danced. Couples and groups moved from them. Giving them their much need space, for a fist in flight or a stray high kick. Like voodoo priests, they shook and spiraled to the crappy pop beats. They began touching and pawing at one another.
 I sat glued, my fibers, tissues, veins, and whatever else makes a boy, united and synthesized to that chair. I didn’t move or speak; I just let my eyes patrol my environment. The peevish priest scolded Jess and Charlie, separating them, as Leroy’s cheeks rouged with anger, but it was no use. They’d only end up back together, in holy communion, committing sin on the dance floor.

A hand on my thigh. My insides squirmed. It was Anne. “I love you, Sam. Do you know that?” I couldn’t handle this right now. “I have a love for you, Anne.” I chose my words carefully. Her glowing face nestled on my shoulder. This did not bother me. My concerns rested in jealousy. I wanted to be out there. Living. Like Jess, touching Charlie.
Anne rose and went back to the snack table. Leroy’s attention moved to his daughter. There was a conversation, and it was out of earshot. Their only audience was a half finished bowl of stale cheese balls and a pitcher of neon bug juice. Anne’s expression looked cheeky and high. A few words were exchanged, and Leroy erupted.

“How dare you talk that way to me!”
“Fuck off!” screamed Anne.

 The record stopped. Jess and Charlie stopped. I moved for the first time in a half an hour. Anne ran crying to the door.   The party was over.
  • A selection from Chapter 18

Queef: A Novel

“Queef: A Novel” is the story of Sam, a teenager growing up in suburban Connecticut. Through Sam’s perspective, we are thrown into a darkly comedic world of angst, isolation, and self-discovery. Life is a real shit hole when you hate yourself. When Sam was born his mother regarded him more as a vaginal flatulence (a queef) than an actual human being. Haunted by the abrupt loss of his recently deceased sister Christine, he writes to her of his journeys and his questions about this world. Sam is alone to process learning to love himself, making friends, understanding the world around him, and saving a thread of a relationship with his selfish mother, while battling his feelings of being just a “queef”.