Page 2 of In My Garage


  "I'm hungry. Do you think they have anything in the fridge?" Nolan asked. We were trucking down the stairs pretty quick.

  "We should just go back to my garage."

  But Nolan didn't listen. In the kitchen, he opened their refrigerator to see what kind of food they had to munch on.

  "Not much in here," he said, disappointed. "Lame."

  Before he could say another word, we heard a loud rumbling from upstairs, a few thuds and the sound of feet scurrying. We ran out the back door of that fucking house as fast as we could.

  ***

  Jacob was a pretty good cook, no doubt about it. But even the best of cooks was only as good as the ingredients he had to work with. And Jacob didn't have much to work with at this point. I had purchased a lot of alcohol and tobacco products but not much in the way of snacks. There was a smidgeon of brisket and BBQ sauce left from what we had devoured earlier in the evening. And there was a frozen pizza in the freezer. Jacob, a confident cook under the influence of marijuana, thought he could make those ingredients work.

  "I love brisket," he said. "And I love pizza. What do you think will happen if I combine the two together?"

  Uh oh.

  Nolan and I sat on the driveway, peering at the stars, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, enjoying the evening, while Jacob was inside the house cooking up his masterpiece. If this really was the night before the end of the world, then the night sky surely wasn't giving any signs of it.

  "What do you think your family is doing right now?" I asked him.

  "I don't know."

  "Do you think they are thinking of you?"

  "Probably. Probably thinking I'm an asshole for coming down here."

  "Oopsie."

  "Yeah, oopsie. What do you think your family is doing right now?"

  "Laughing, I hope. Thinking pleasant thoughts," I said.

  "You know, that's NOT what they are thinking."

  "I said, I HOPE."

  "Well, let's make a toast." We raised our pint glasses. "To good friends. To good times."

  "Good friends! Good times!"

  We toasted, clinking our pint glasses together, tapping them on the ground, and then taking a swig.

  "I'm glad you guys came over," I said, choking up a little. "I can't think of anyone else I'd rather be hanging out with right now."

  "Me too, buddy."

  Jacob soon came trotting out of the house, proud of his new concoction. He placed it on the ground, slinging napkins in our laps.

  "Voila! Brisket pizza!" he declared.

  "Dude," Nolan said, pausing for a moment. "That will not go down well."

  We all laughed.

  "I combined my two favorite things. How can it not be good?"

  "You're high!" I said. "Crackers with ketchup would be good right now." We laughed some more. "Jacob, do you think your family is thinking about you right now?"

  "Ha! Hell no! The selfish bastards!"

  We couldn't stop laughing. It was just too funny. Too funny. Jacob took a bite of the pizza and wheezed. He placed his hand over his mouth. His face turned red, bright enough to illuminate the dark driveway. Nolan and I saw the look on his face and bellowed deep laughs, straight from our guts. He looked like he was going to barf. And he did, right in front of us on the driveway. It was disgusting.

  ***

  We woke up the next morning hung over. Really hung over. Kicked in the balls, smacked in the face, sick to our stomachs, hung over. We had the kind of bender worthy of the last night on Earth. We tried our best to kill that keg, kill all the booze, smoke all the dope and the cigarettes, finish ourselves off the best we could. It was our coping mechanism. We were dealing with things the only way we knew how. We were compadres.

  I could hear myself groan as I rolled over. Jacob and Nolan were both on their backs, their arms crossed over their chests like mummies, pickled and aching from the night before. I wiped the crust from my eyes and sat up. It was a beautiful morning. The birds had returned and were flying in flocks over my house, some landing in the trees in my front yard and chirping their morning songs. It was fucking beautiful, man.

  I shoved both my buddies and they soon rolled over, too. They sat up, like me, and looked around. I think they were as surprised as I was.

  "What the fuck?" Nolan asked, rubbing his face.

  "Are we in heaven?" Jacob asked.

  "Sure seems like it," I said. "What a beautiful morning."

  "Is there any beer left in the keg?" Nolan asked.

  He got up and grabbed our glasses. He took them in the garage and quickly returned with beers. He unwrapped a pack of cigarettes and handed us each a smoke.

  "Looks like this is the last pack. I may have to run to the store for more."

  "Looks like it," I said. "We'll probably need to buy some food too. I wasn't planning on making breakfast."

  "It's just like Y2K. What a crock of shit," Jacob said, taking a drag from his smoke, sipping some beer. "All this bullshit for nothing."

  We all chuckled a labored, hungover chuckle. It seemed too good to be true. All the worrying, all the predictions, all the hubbub, all for nothing. It seemed the weather forecast would have been more appropriate for that day, not the Mayan prophecy. How could we have been so stupid? Goddamn human nature.

  "Hey Jacob," Nolan said, sipping his beer. "Go get the hose and wash your puke off the driveway."

  "Fuck you!"

  "The sight of it is making me sick."

  "Hose it yourself. I'm busy here."

  "I'm busy too."

  We all regained our composure, shaking the hangovers off, sitting up, letting the sunshine hit our faces. It was a brand new day. And brand new days required brand new plans. More beer? More cigarettes? What to do? It was a time to celebrate. The world was not going to end. In fact, it was more than that. A millennia of foreshadowing and foreboding was neutralized in an instant. We felt rejuvenated, like marathon runners ready for a new race, like an army platoon ready for a new battle, like babies screaming to life. A new beginning. A new hope. We were the Jedi. We were best friends.

  "What do you fuckers want to do today?" I asked.

  "Drink some more. Duh," Nolan replied. It was perfect.

  "I have a bottle of cheap champagne. Should I open it?"

  Then...

  - POOF! -

  About The Author

  Scott Semegran lives in Austin, Texas. He graduated from the University of Texas at Austin with a degree in English. He is a cartoonist and a writer. He can also bend metal with his mind and run really fast, if chased by a pack of wolves. His comic strips have appeared in the following newspapers: The Austin Student, The Funny Times, The Austin American-Statesman, Rocky Mountain Bullhorn, Seven Days, The University of Texas at Dallas Mercury, and The North Austin Bee. His short stories have appeared in independent publications and literary journals like The Next One Literary Journal from the Texas Tech University Honors College. He is a Kindle bestselling author.

  Books by Scott Semegran

  This short story also appeared in MODICUM, a collection of short stories, musings, and cartoons by writer / cartoonist Scott Semegran. The book explores such themes as suicide, parenting, religion, masculinity, the apocalypse, and, most importantly, erections. It’s guaranteed to make you laugh, cry, and pee your pants (hopefully, not at the same time).

  Praise for MODICUM:

  "Funny, sweet, dark, and sad, Scott Semegran's comics and short stories create a wholly convincing world of love, loss, and fear. His light touch with heavy subjects is a gift, and his forays into silliness are a delight. I can't tell if his kids should read it as soon as possible, or never." - Emily Flake, cartoonist and author of LuLu Eightball

  "Hilarious, poignant, twisted... and those are just the stories. Scott Semegran's cartoons bring an added one-two visceral punch to a powerful collection of work." - Davy Rothbart, author of The Lone Surfer of Montana, Kansas and publisher of FOUND Magazine

  Get it today!

/>   ***

  Looking for your next mind-bending novel to read? Then checkout The Meteoric Rise of Simon Burchwood by Scott Semegran. On his way to New York to celebrate his impending literary success, Simon Burchwood is the prototypical American careerist. But a quick detour to Montgomery, Alabama to visit a childhood friend sends Simon on a bizarre journey, challenging his hopes and dreams of becoming a famous writer. The Meteoric Rise of Simon Burchwood is a character study that delves into the psyche of a man who desperately tries to redefine himself.

  Is Simon pompous? Yes. A jerk? Yes. Will you like him? Absolutely! "The book is told entirely from Simon’s viewpoint. Simon is not a very likeable guy; as a matter of fact, he is a self-centered, pompous jerk. But for some reason, it’s pretty fun to be inside his head, mainly because he is an inadvertent, oblivious jerk... you will learn Simon’s views on smoking, cleanliness and going to the bathroom, just to name a few. There were times that I laughed out loud... A very good novel that was humorous throughout." -- 4 1/2 Stars / Red Adept Reviews

  The Meteoric Rise of Simon Burchwood was selected as one of the "5 Best Summer Indie Beach Reads" by the editors of The Indie Reader. Their verdict: "An ambitious, enjoyable read with a superb ending that changed my interpretation of the entire text."

  Buy it today!

  ***

  Want more Simon Burchwood? Then get the next novel The Spectacular Simon Burchwood. Recently divorced and his writing career in shambles, Simon Burchwood's life is a complete disaster. He reluctantly finds work as a computer support technician and resigns that his career as the next great American novelist will never come to fruition. When he learns that his ex-wife abruptly moves to Dallas with his children, he embarks on a crazy road trip with a nerdy coworker and a hitchhiking punk rock girl and discovers the inspiration he desperately needs for his new literary masterpiece. Take another trip with the one and only Simon Burchwood.

  Praise for The Spectacular Simon Burchwood:

  "The author is quite funny and some of the quips are great. Simon can be hilarious and great to read about in his recaps and memories." –- 3 Stars / So Many Books, So Little Time

  "Simon is starting to understand something, and his luck literally changes. Semegran handles this quite deftly; even though Simon keeps warbling his "It's true!" declarations at a great rate, the reader does not tire of them, because, well, some of them ARE true, and we see the progress he is making in getting a grasp of what life is about, albeit in his own ham-fisted way." -- 4 Stars / The New Podler Review of Books

  Buy it today!

  ***

  Mr. Grieves started as a poke at human nature through the use of talking, narcissistic animals. It has evolved into a full-on assault to your funny bone. Where else will you find rats fighting over cubicles, camels worrying about aging, a parrot talking to aliens, and a lonely water snail longing for a friend? Welcome to the world of Mr. Grieves!

  Praise for Mr. Grieves:

  "An animal or plant — or maybe even an ovum — talks. Sometimes to itself, but more often to another of its kind. The idea is simple, but the execution is smart and almost always funny in Scott Semegran’s collection of 140 four-panel comics drawn between 2004 and 2008, Mr. Grieves." -- Reviewed for IndieReader by Andrew Stout

  Get it today!

  ***

  Boys is a collection of stories about three boys living in Texas: one growing up, one dreaming, and one fighting to stay alive in the face of destitution and adversity. There's second-grader William, a shy yet imaginative boy who schemes about how to get back at his school-yard bully, Randy. Then there's Sam, a 15-year-old boy who dreams of getting a 1980 Mazda RX-7 for his sixteenth birthday but has to work at a Greek restaurant to fund his dream. Finally, there's Seff, a 21-year-old on the brink of manhood, trying to survive along with his roommate, working as waiters and barely making ends meet. These three stories are told with heart, humor, and an uncompromising look at what it meant to grow up in Texas during the 1980s and 1990s.

  Buy it today!

  Find Scott Semegran Online:

  https://www.scottsemegran.com

 
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