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I Keep Losin' Me Rake By Alex Hogan © Alex Hogan 2009
"Aaron!" Oh, no. What'd she want now? I stumbled out in my pjs to answer the call. The wind sneaked in under me shorts and played with me balls. Mum was standing knee-deep in oak leaves next to her open car door. "I want you to rake these up after I leave." Sure, why not? As if they wouldn't just come back again. I stood hugging myself against the chilling wind as she drove off in a whirl of leaves, which successfully cleared the path enough for me to go back to bed. I got up later, at 11:00. A decent hour. Cruised my way through brewed coffee and French toast with maple syrup; leaving the mixing bowl, frypan and plate, with bits of cold egg and drips of maple syrup, on the table. Mum would be pleased to see I got breakfast - err…lunch - by myself. I tried on my new straight-legged black jeans. Cool! Hot even. But…nahh. Not gamed to wear 'em yet. Put my baggies back on. Went out to try the local café for a coke, meet up with some o' the guys, Adam with ‘em maybe. Oh damn! The leaves. They were back. Scattered over the driveway. I hunted in the shed, behind redback-spiderwebs and ancient dust, for the rake. The one Dad left here before he left here. Raked the leaves into a pile close to the tree `from whence they came'. *Bring. Bring.* What was that? Oh shit! It was the, like, `landline' phone, which meant it must be for Mum, which meant I had to answer it or I'd be in deep poo. Dropped the rake. In I went. Damn it! Shoulda known. Some Indian what was wanting to sell us a new home loan. I repeated, like rote, the words Mum always used; "if I wanted a new home loan I'd be perfectly capable of finding one myself. Now get another job!" and dutifully hung up. Shame though, he sounded kinda cute. With the melodious tones of his accent tripping through my head I decided the str8 legged jeans would be the go, so I changed into them, then was out the front door and off to the shops again. Shit! The bloody leaves, they were back. It was like our yard was bewitched or something. Some bloody little oak fairy was playing with us. Whoa! There was Adam, walking straight past my front gate. What was he gonna think of my jeans? Would he think they were gay? Or even gay? *Thwack!* Oh nooo…and I fell backwards on my arse – the forgotten rake between my legs and laying flat against my face. I'd stepped on the prongs of the rake, hidden under the leaves, and it had reared up at me and hit me for five. It was that bloody fairy again! I heard the gate creak open, but I was hurting too much to lift my head to look. Crunch, crunch, crunch went the leaves, then stopped. A shadow loomed over me. "Mate, you alright?" I wasn't really. "Shit yeah!" I said, and tried to laugh. "Here I am trying to fuck this bloody rake, and it's not co-operating." "Oh, mate!" he said, and leant down to lift me up. My jeans were tight and awkward, and getting more so as his hands grabbed mine and pulled me up. Oh, man! He took me back into the house and sat me down, inspecting my eye closely. "What an idiot I was. It was the bloody rake. Mum'd get mad if the leaves were still there, and then her phone rang, and I forgot about the rake and the leaves were back, and... shit!" "Is your eye okay?" He was looking directly into mine. I kept blinking and looking away. "Yeah, of course it is." "You sure?" 'Oh, man!' I thought, 'Stop looking at me so close.' "Those bloody leaves. Why'd Mum want 'em raked?" "You know parents! The leaves will just come back, so what's the point?" "Yeah. Especially here. I reckon there's some bloody fairy jinxing us." "A fairy?" he asked incredulously. Oh, no, he didn't like my jeans! He laughed out loud, then grabbed my arms and leant his head on my shoulder as the laughter took control of him. I couldn't help but laugh with him. After a time he lifted his head, wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes and looked back at mine. He grew serious suddenly. "You sure your eye's all right?" He reached out and very gently touched it. The feather soft touch shot through my whole body. I started shaking. "Yeah," I whispered. He moved his hand to my lips. My shaking grew. He leant in close, his mouth hovering over my eye, and gently kissed it. Then before I could speak he swiftly moved to kiss my lips, this time not so gently. And the rest - I ain't tellin' ya. That's gonna be our little secret. Shhh—don't tell the other guys. Oh, and that pile of leaves finally stayed under the oak tree from whence they cum, I mean, came.
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