Banana Split
Chapter 2
You shall not lie with a male as with a woman; it is an abomination.
When we got back in the Camry the former passenger, my new driver,
seemed to gain some confidence. Apparently my banana trick had
unleashed his inner beast and it was quite the frisky critter. But
it was a ride and I wasn't about to turn it down.
As we headed east on I-90 he began to reach across the center
console trying to grab my leg. The first couple of times I gently
pushed his hand away and said no, but this quickly became a game for
him. Could he grab my leg before I could bat his arm away? And
although it was, in a way, an interesting game, I didn't want his
hands on me.
“Why you teeeaaase me?” He asked in a whine, and moved
his head from side to side in the Egyptian or upset black chick way.
He seemed to be much less maternal now. The whole situation was too
funny to take seriously, but I decided that a mere slap on wrist
wouldn't be enough to detour him.
“Come on man, why ya gotta be so grabby?” I asked with a
chuckle.
“Well you no lemme see it, so I wanna touch it,”
he said reaching once more, and now I could see it wasn't my leg he was
grabbing for after all.
We flew past North Bend and I looked up and saw a bright rainbow chute paragliding down the front Mt. Si.
“Why don't you look at that?” I pointed out the left of
the windshield. The driver looked out the window and spotted the
paraglider, but looked back at me with a bored expression
“I no wanna see his parachute, I wanna see yours!” The lilt
in his voice was over the top. I broke out laughing again and right
as I did his hand darted toward my crotch. My reflexes kicked in. I
didn't hit his arm this time but gave him a snake bite. Although
this is a common name for a nasty pinch, the snake bite was something
I invented at the age of 8. To this day it is the most effective
pinch and very popular with slightly sadistic elementary schoolboys. My
right hand met his forearm and the first knuckle of my middle finger
clamped down against the second knuckle of my index finger—bone
against bone—and a shrill chirp, like a gopher screaming, came out
of his mouth and the car swerved sharply to the left for a second as
he recoiled.
“See man, you can't be all grabby like that,” He
looked at me with wounded eyes. “You think I'm just gonna let you
grab my cock?”
“Well you no lemme see it so I
just wanna touch.” Now he sounded like a wounded five year old who
had just had his toy yanked out of his hands unjustly. It wasn't
fair.
I couldn't keep a straight face
or remain angry at the caricature next to me and started to laugh
again. His hurt expression was funny, but the reason for it was
hysterical.
“Trust me, you don't want to
see my cock, it's just a little guy,” I said, still smiling. I
wanted to somehow make him lose interest, but this didn't help. His
eyebrows shot up.
“A little one, lemme see
it,” he said now in a conspiratorial whisper. “Is it like a
pinky or something?” He extended the pinky of his right hand making a fist with the rest of his fingers. It was baffling to see how he could go from
playful to injured to wide eyed and curious in less time than it took
for the paraglider to land at the base of the mountain. He had a one
track mind and I realized there was no way to logically or rationally
talk him down from the hunt for my dick.
“You know Brad Pitt has little
one?” He said. I was glad for the change of subject.
“No, I had no idea, have you
seen naked pictures of him?” I asked. This was
news to me. If anyone could find their way through the maze of the web to Brad's
junk it would be this guy. I was sure he would have paid top dollar
to see a bootleg picture of Brad Pitt's cock.
“Well, I no see him naked but
you can tell.” then he leaned a little closer to me and whispered,
“His bathing suit, you can see
it!” He nodded gravely, but then his hand darted down to my crotch, and once again, my
knuckles met on his forearm. The chirp erupted once more, but this
time it wasn't so piercing.
“Look you awready bruise me
once.” he said, the hurt expression cartoonishly contorting his
face again. He pointed to a purple lump rising on his forearm from the
first snake bite.
“Yeah, well that one wasn't as
hard as the first, but the next one will be harder than both those
bites put together,” I said, “And I'll aim for where I first
snake bit you.” I pointed to the purple blotch that he began to
rub. He stuck out his lip and squinted at me.
The four lane road was basically
empty west of North Bend and as we headed up toward Snoqualmie Pass we
flew by 18 wheelers hauling heavy loads in the slow lane. My driver
sat sulkily in his seat for a few minutes and shot me piercing
glances like a teenage girl whose parents have told her she can't go
to a party.
“Hey, what's your name anyway?”
I asked
“Timmy,” he said in a voice
filled with an adolescent pout. He must have been in his mid thirties but his emotional maturity was questionable. He did not look like a Timmy to me,
and I guessed it was either a lie or an American name he had adopted.
I imagined his real name would have some of the yoweling vowels that
he and his partner had conversed with earlier.
“I'm Jasper,” I said.
“I'm Jasper, I'm Jasper,”
he alternately moved his shoulders up and down as he mockingly
repeated my name and stuck his lower out even further. He scowled.
“Dude what's your problem,” I
said jovially, “I mean, do you try to touch every guys dick or
something, I mean, what the fuck?” His face was priceless! I shook
my head spurting air in bursts of laughter. I love this
guy!
“Jasper where you going?” he
asked suddenly puzzled. Here it comes.
“Spokane,” I said as casually
as I could as if it were no big deal. Just Spokane.
“Oh,” he said. I could see
his gears spinning trying to form a mental map. “How far you say
is, what is... Spooken?”
“Well yeah, Spokane. It's a
little ways over Snoqualmie Pass,” I lied. But this didn't pacify
Timmy, and he shot me a look of astonishment.
“Over the pass? You mean the
mountains?” He asked
now looking at me with wide eyes.
“Oh you'll love it,” I said
trying to act as if his expression was excitement, “It's beautiful,
I can't wait to show
you!”
“Oh no Jasper, I can not.”
He shot me a tentative sorry glance, “I no can Spooken today,”
Timmy looked around as if he were just now noticing that we were on
the freeway. I guessed he had probably never been passed North Bend
and the new territory was spooking him.
“Well at least take me to
Ellensburg,” I said, and as I did I slid my head side to side
trying to look flirtatious. How could I draw him back into the
flirting game? But he didn't even glance at my promiscuous concocted
expression. Is this how pretty girls try to get their way?
Timmy was looking for a road signs and I started to get nervous.
At the elevation we're at, it's gonna get cold tonight. Real
cold. Shit!
“Come on Timmy, it's just another 45
minutes or so,” again the lie didn't seem to have any effect.
“No Jasper, he said, his voice almost
devoid of emotion, “I no can take you, I sorry, I no can Spooken
today.” He was leaning forward to read the green sign hanging over
the freeway. Luckily they didn't advertise the distance to Spokane.
My head spun. It was already passed the
warmest part of the afternoon and freeway was almost empty. There
wouldn't be a steady stream of cars pulling onto the freeway from the
pass. In the winter the ski resort was packed, but in August, other than a
few hikers or vehicles running dangerously low on gas and willing to
pay the extra 50 cents a gallon, Snoqualmie would be empty. But I
didn't want to beg, and somehow, I knew that even if I did Timmy
would want to strike a deal.
The blue sky was turning gray as I saw heavy dark nimbus clouds looming over the crotch of the pass, and knew that my near future would be anything but bright and sunny if I didn't make it to the other side.
