4/2/01 - 7:21 PM
It may be a fantasy, but it's a fun fantasy.
Everyone needs an obsession.
Mine just happens to be Mike Mills.
Yes, as I've discussed with several people, it's not Mike himself that I'm obsessed with. It's the idea of what he represents to me that I'm obsessed with. He was my template for my mate. He was template for many things over the past year.
But the story I've been working on for the past months is by far the closest to true insanity over Mike Mills I've ever gotten. Before I left for college, I was online and signed up for one of those dream contests, the kind that let you tell them what you'd like to win and they'd make it happen if you won. After signing up for this, I took the idea I'd submitted and started working on my take of what would happen if I won.
Maybe I've read too many romance novels. Maybe I'm just a wishful thinker. Well, I know that both of those are true. So I'll just say that there is no way in hell any of what I wrote would happen. I just thought I'd clarify that for anyone who has their hand on the phone, preparing to call Public Safety to keep me from stalking Mikey in Athens. In spite of being Otherkin, I'm fairly well-rooted in reality.
I mean, the idea of a romance blossoming between a 19-year-old college freshman from the back-ass of nowhere and a 42-year-old rock star from Georgia. C'mon, I'm off my rocker. It's fun to think about anyway.
I've been working on this one on and off for a while and I tend to jump great gapes in story. There were originally three movements, basically "Linn arrives," "Linn spends time," and "Linn leaves." Makes sense, right? Well, it's stretched into "Linn at home," "Linn in Athens," "Linn at school," "Linn and Mike at home..." Who knows where it'll go. So far, there's been the meeting, the beginning of romance and the struggle to keep it under wraps with cameras crawling all over the place, the leaving which ended up being muchly prolonged when Mike sort of willingly abducted her for two nights in a motel (yes, I'm preoccupied with sex, but you knew that already), a meeting on Linn's campus (more sex) which resulted in the original proposal and some awkward explinations to Linn's roommate (written before I got to school and found myself without a roommate), many discussions (I'm big on dialog when my characters aren't fucking each other's brains out) between Linn and Mike.
And I'm currently working on meeting the parents. Linn brings Mike home, first not intending to tell her parents that they're engaged. I'm very familiar with the fact that I'm nearly incapable of lying to my mother and having her believe me, especially if she asks me a direct question. Needless to say, Mom asks Linn directly, "What's going on," and she gives in and says that they're engaged. Which goes over oh-so-well, as you can imagine. It was fun to write my mother having a fit. :-D Mike sleeps on the couch with the cats and Linn sleeps in her own room.
After that, they head to Dad's. Which would be even more hellish because Dad doesn't have the more leniate attitude Mom does. Lucky for the story and my sense of humor, he doesn't seem to recognize Mike as anyone famous and just goes about making pizza.
So I got to take a few crack-shots at my father and his cocoanut without him actually knowing about it.
Have I mentioned this before? I don't know. I hope not.
My father has a cocoanut. In real life. This is true and I swear to whatever's out there, I'm not making this up. My dad finally broke up with his girlfriend (thank GOD) but has apparently replaced her with a cocoanut one of his coworkers brought for him. He named it Myers, after Fort Myers where his coworker was visiting when she bought the cocoanut. It (Myers) wears a furry hat and lives on Dad's kitchen table. I've met Myers. My father talks to Myers when he's lonely.
My father has replaced his girlfriend with a cocoanut.
And I got to make fun of him a little in this story that I'm working on but will never do anything with. At least I'm aware that this one is being done simply for my own benefit. There is absolutely nothing I can conceivably do with this. I can't publish it without changing all the names, places, etc. And that would ruin most of the jokes anyway.
Well, maybe there's one thing I can do with this. So, without further ado, I'm going to put up some of my favorite exchanges from this. Don't ask to see the rest of it. I'm never letting this one out of my sight again.
"You know my parents’ names?"
"Oops."
"My dad’s a twit, but he’s still a good man."
"I think that’s been said of me a few times."
Linn shifted in his lap and smirked at him, "Because you are a twit, but in a different sort of way. My dad talks to a cocoanut."
"Okay." A small line appeared between Mike’s eyebrows while he considered that. "A cocoanut?"
"Yes. It’s a really long story so don’t worry about it."
"Okay."
They managed to avoid getting lost, at least. Luckily, Mike’s sense of direction was a little better than Linn’s, so they managed to get to the turn-off without Linn feeling the intense need to turn around and stop at a gas station for a map.
"What do you want to listen to?"
"What have you got?" Mike glanced at her lap, keeping one eye on the road.
"Ummm… a lot of R.E.M.?"
"That doesn’t surprise me."
"It shouldn’t. Of course, my stuff ranges from R.E.M. and Pearl Jam to the Corrs, Third Eye Blind, and Vertical Horizon."
"Linn!" Mike sounded a bit affronted.
"Don’t start!" she squeaked back. "I get enough guff about my music from Cara."
He was laughing now, "I’m kidding, Linn. Just put something in. Lord knows I listened to what was popular." Linn blushed, grinned and fiddled with the CD player before music started to pour out of the speakers and Mike stared for a few seconds, "Wilco."
"Shoot me, I read too many interviews."
There was no apology in her voice.
"I mean, it wouldn’t look good if we showed up at your parents’ house after an hour and a half in the car together and you look like you’ve been bawling your eyes out."
Linn coughed and kissed his cheek, "Yes, I’m fine." She wriggled back into her own seat and pulled the visor mirror down to double-check. "Yeah, I’m okay."
"You’re more than okay," Mike replied, reaching and pulling her into a deeper kiss for a few minutes. His lips twitched and he released her, embarrassed to see that she was dizzy and looked about the way he felt. "Um, it also wouldn’t look good for us to show up with me looking like I’ve got your father’s cocoanut in my pants."
Karen simply stared at her daughter, disbelief written all over her face. "How old is he?"
"Forty-two."
"How old are you again?"
"Nineteen."
"I don’t think I need to clarify this point!"
"Does your father know?"
"Mom, if Dad knew, do you think either of us would still be breathing?"
"Good point."
"You’re cats have been loving me up good."
Linn glared at the grey cat. "You can’t have him. He’s mine."
"Is there anything you’d like me to do?"
"You could cut the olives, I suppose," Ken offered but Linn snatched the bottle of olives out of Mike’s hand before he could open them, clutching them to her chest. "Or not."
"My olives," Linn snipped and finished grating the cheese with the bottle of Spanish olives between her knees.
"I don’t want to know why you’re holding those olives between your knees."
Linn just grinned, then glanced down the counter. "Hello, Myers."
The cocoanut on the counter didn’t answer from under its furry hat.
They watched each other for a few minutes over the olives and Linn sighed softly, looking back at the pile of green fruits. "I know," Mike mumbled. "I was thinking the same thing."
"You were thinking you’d like to shove an olive up your nose, too?"
"What??"
Linn was doubled over now and could barely even answer. "Sorry, old joke." She took a deep breath, giggling still while she sliced olives into little slivers. "Where is Cara when I really need her?"
And I'm done. I'll shut up now.
