Taking a Semester off to Drive Around the Country in a Monster Truck – Blake Middleton

On Monday, December 7, 2015, mid-afternoon, Jordan sat at the picnic table near the library with Eric and Aubrey.
“One thousand nine elevens,” said Eric.
“I wanna smoke crack before class,” said Jordan.
“I don’t wanna smoke crack,” said Eric. “Every drug I’ve ever done has turned into a problem for me.”
“Don’t smoke crack,” said Aubrey.
“I’m not going to smoke crack,” said Eric. “Fuck off.”
“I know you won’t,” said Aubrey. “But don’t. You’re a functioning addict. Low-functioning addict.”
“Mid-functioning,” said Eric. “Depending on what your definition of functioning is. Girls still talk to me. Why do they do that?”
“What do I have to do to get an Adderall?” said Aubrey.
“Why do you need an Adderall?”
“I have to write an essay about plumpy nuts in Africa for my foreign culture class.”
“I’m taking politics of France next semester,” said Jordan.
“Eagles of defeating ISIS. They have a song on Tony Hawk pro skater,” said Eric, then shit-talked an article he read on
“I’m tired of shit-talking Vice,” said Jordan.
“Jordan is moody,” said Eric.
“I’m just tired of talking about Vice.”
Aubrey typed something into her IPhone, and showed Jordan a picture of a capybara sitting next to a small dog in a kiddie pool.
“That’s good,” said Jordan. “I’m not moody anymore. Thank you.” He looked at Eric. “Do you think Robert would want to go eat food with me at the café?”
“I don’t know,” said Eric. “I know a dishwasher with twelve fingers that works in the dish-pit though. He smokes a lot of weed. He puts his second pinky nub into the pinky hole of pipes. He wiggled it for me. I didn’t ask for that.”
“I’d chop off my pinky nubs,” said Jordan.
“He’s a bad dishwasher,” said Eric. “He’s so high.”
“I’m always high at work,” said Aubrey.
“I would get stoned and stare at my hands if I had twelve fingers,” said Jordan.
“Hey girl, you wanna feel my nubby finger?” said Eric. “It looks just like a clitoris but more flexible…I wanna go to a porn store and buy whip-its.”
“I can get a cracker from Starbucks,” said Aubrey. “Also whip-its.”
“Do that on your last day,” said Eric.
“I don’t think I wanna do whip-its,” said Jordan. “No, I’ll do them. I’ll just feel stupid.”
“Is that why I was a shitty person in high school?” said Eric. “Because I did whip-its?”
“Doesn’t ecstasy make a hole in your brain?”
“All drugs makes holes in your brain,” said Eric. “The guy we bought whip-its from in high school made everyone call him Squid.”
“Squid,” said Aubrey.
“He got a job at GameStop and his nametag said Jake McSnake. It’s a really convoluted saga, like a John Irving-type of tale.”
No one said anything for a minute. Aubrey and Eric lit a cigarette.
“When’s the last time you guys played lazer tag?” said Eric. “I’m being serious.”
“I played air hockey the other day,” said Aubrey.
“I played glow-in-the-dark putt-putt with Robert a while ago,” said Jordan. “Then we ate Churros at Taco Bell. It was a good day.”
“I know,” said Eric. “I wanted to go, but I had to work.”
“Can we go to a batting cage?” said Aubrey.
“Yeah,” said Jordan.
“I don’t want to pay dollars to be bad at something,” said Eric. “I don’t have many dollars. Fun Station used to have bumper boats. That was fun.”
“Bumper boats are scary,” said Aubrey.
“Yeah,” said Jordan. “I used to think that I would fall overboard and get torn up by the propeller.”
“That’s the way of the high sea, sailor,” said Eric. He flicked his cigarette. “You must be at least this scurvy to ride.”
“I wish the library wasn’t packed,” said Jordan.
“We can just go to my house and study,” said Aubrey.
“That sounds horrible,” said Eric. “You sound horrible…I hope ISIS kills Bono.” His IPhone rang. “Hello, is this Al Qaeda? Yeah. We’re at the smoking tables.” He hung up his IPhone. “Robert is coming.”
“How long can we text about joining ISIS until I start to feel watched by the U.S. government?” said Jordan. “I don’t want to have to explain to my parents why the government thought I was in ISIS.”
“I’m going to bomb Florida back into the ocean,” said Eric.
“I don’t know why ISIS hasn’t bombed Disneyworld,” said Aubrey. “So many innocent civilians.”
“Are they really innocent if they’re at Disneyworld though?” said Jordan. “Banksy doesn’t think so.”
“Fuck you,” said Eric. “You won’t talk about Vice, but you’ll talk about Banksy. I hate you.”
“I’m pretty sure Vice has a documentary about him,” said Aubrey.
Robert walked up to the table. He was wearing a jean jacket with an Operation Ivy patch and Chocking Victim patch. He had a Mohawk rat-tail combination.
“You look like a punk-rocking monster truck driver,” said Eric.
“I am,” said Robert. “Corporate rock sucks. Can I have a cigarette?”
Eric gave Robert a cigarette. Aubrey talked about a Vice documentary where a person takes acid and goes to a monster truck rally.
“I’m taking a semester off to drive around the country in a monster truck,” said Robert. “Not really. But I am taking a semester off to drive around the country in a Honda Accord my parents bought me.”


blake middleton lives in jacskonville, FL. he tweets @blaketheidiot. you can read more of his stuff at