I'm at the park waiting for Byers to pull up. We all knew if we met at
the park we could get this job done faster, get the story in, and the
faster we would have next edition's up.  If we could only get a few more
subscribers we could dump Jimmy, but that isn't the point now. I'm
supposed to be looking for the white and green VW bus Frohike insists on
keeping around. Truthfully, we have no other choice. It's all we can
afford at the moment. That and we've had it so long that it's
personalized now. I'm just waiting for the day when some one will name
it.
        I look around the park, see a few kids wrapped in parkas sliding down
the giant metal slide, or swinging on the swing that always needs to be
oiled.  I haven't been to a park in years. Can't even remember the last
one I've been too.  The big open space of the park, with it's fresh cut
grass and the yellowed leaves falling from the trees seems to almost
scare me. It reminds me too much of home. Too much of a farm.
        Now I look away from the empty park space and see a girl skipping down
the path, the one my bench is sitting on the edge of.  From the way she
looks, she can't be more than eight years old and all ready the teeny
boppers of the day have gotten at her.  Her hair isn't too long,
probably about the same length as mine. It wraps around her neck and
brushes her shoulders just like mine, but instead of it being platinum
blonde and thinning rapidly, it's full and a dark tuscan red. Her eyes
are an odd color, almost yellow in color, but the closer she comes near
me, the more I can see that they're an amber color. Her skin is so pale,
almost as white as the paper we print the newspaper on. Her lips are a
dark red and full, the kissable kind and I feel odd. I'm attracted to an
eight year-olds lips. I shiver and realize the white and redness have to
be from makeup.  Her shoulders are bare, in fact, nearly her whole top
is bare but I can see her wearing a green tube top and I swear she'll
catch a cold.  I'm sure it's at least 49 degrees out here and she's in a
tube top and shorts.
        Well, they aren't shorts. They're denim over-alls and they're shorts.
The front pocket on her chest, or what should be the front pocket has
been ripped off and has been replaced with a glittery American flag. Our
stars and stripes. I bet she's only wearing them to show off. That she's
a political teeny bopper of some sort. Or else Brittany Spears has come
out with a song about the government no ones knows about.
        Her legs are bare and here's the best part. She's wearing black
platform sandals. In total, her height with the shoes has to be about
5'2".  I try not to puke by looking away.  Unfortunately she stops next
to me.
"Is this seat taken?" she asks, her voice strangely mature for a girl
who looks to be eight. She's probably really nine or ten.  I decide to
just mumble something incoherent. Even I don't know if it sounds like a
yes or a no. She sits next to me and I watch as the green backpack I
hadn't notice before comes and rests on her lap. She unzips it open and
pulls out a laptop. She sets down the backpack and begins to flip it
open, on, the normal you do with a laptop. But I startle as I hear a
modem begin to dial and I look over to her. She looks to me and smiles.
"Hi." she says warmly.  I sigh.
"Hey." I casually say. Where the hell is Byers? I look at my watch and
she blinks.
"You like the Ramones?" she asks as I see her staring at my shirt. I
look down and then to her. I feel as if I'm being set up. She's a nine
year old Narc?
"Yeah." I say, beginning to sound defensive. Wouldn't be the first time.
People usually hate all the things I like.
"They sang Happy Birthday to Mr. Burns on The Simpsons. I know that
probably doesn't sound good, but I don't get a chance to listen to their
music. I'm more of a Queen fan." she starts to ramble on.  It's my turn
to blink. I debate whether I should even respond to her.
"What you looking up?" I ask motioning towards the screen.  She begins
to blush, her face growing red as a cherry as she slowly closes her
laptop.

"What's so bad about that?" I ask, relaxing against the back of the
bench now, showing her I don't have the foggiest idea that she's
probably looking at something her parents have banned her from. She
leans in close, her breath on my ear and suddenly my whole body's alert,
as if someone just poured ice cold water down my pants.
"I'm hacking into it so I can re-arrange the schedule to fit mine." she
whispers so I know only the two of us can hear. I move my eyes around
the park and I see that half of the inhabitants of the place are staring
at us, their eyes wide. I try to move away from the girl.
"So you're a ten year old hacker, big deal, get away from me." I say as
I try to push her away. She giggles and then begins to break into
laughter.
"I look ten, don't I. Care to see my ID card?" she offers and I shrug.
She pulls out her wallet and flips it open. I scan it over as if I could
care less and then blink and rub my eyes as I look at her age. ...she's
34. I look up to her and she smiles brightly as she nods and puts away
her wallet.
"I've got what I've been happily calling the 'Gary Coleman disease'.
I'll forever look about ten, maybe 12 if I'm lucky, but I'll age
normally."  she explains and I find myself absent-mindly nodding at
everything she's saying.
"I'm...I'm sorry." I decide to offer up, not really knowing why I'm
saying it.
"Don't be. I love getting the reactions I do from people. But if we talk
any longer, I think we should at least make some sort of introductions."
she says, her smile still bright as she opens the laptop and quickly
begins to hack into the Maryland Bus Schedule.
"Langly." I offer this time, but dully, simply. I don't want to give her
any more. She looks to me and raises a brow.
"That a first name or a last name?"
"Last." I reply.
"Got a first name?"
"Ringo." I mumble out. I /really/ don't like giving out my first name,
but I feel obliged when asked.
"Cool." is all she says as she nods and goes back to typing. I breathe a
very small sigh of relief, glad she doesn't act like everyone else and
begin to ask me for an autobiography.
"You gotta name or what?" I ask, the slight rudeness in my voice coming
back for no real reason.
"Yeah," she begins looking over to me again, "Thera Raster." and then
she goes back to typing. I hear a car horn honk and look up. Byers has
arrived, thank God, and Yves is still with him.  I was really hoping her
and Jimmy would have run off together by now, but I've been seeing the
way she looks at Frohike and I know one of these days someone's going to
get lucky. I just wish it were me.
        I look over to the girl and begin to feel really uncomfortable. I
decide to just stand up and walk away. Byers honks the horn again and I
wave at him. Yeah yeah. I'm coming. Narc.
"Bye Ringo." the girl says, not looking at me, but at least waving. I
scratch the back of my head and wave at her.
"Bye Thera."  I don't even know her and all ready I'm calling her by her
first name. I hear a ripping sound and watch her wave me over. I hear
the car horn again.
"Shut the hell up! I heard you!" I yell to Byers. I turn back and
see the girl's face right in mine. She grabs my hand and presses a piece
of paper in it.
"I have a good feeling about you. Call me." and then she goes back to
her lap top. The horn honks three times, quickly, and then Byers just
lays on it. I turn and jog over to the van. Damn Narcs. I'm glad I'm
cooler than they are.

---

        It's so god-damned fucking cold and there she sits with her blue tube
top and her all-American overalls and those damned black platform
sandals, no jacket on, typing away at 105 wpm and here I am in my
Ramones shirt, blue jeans and my warmest jacket I could dig out. Even my
hair's all in my face with the wind blowing at some ungodly speed, but
there she sits with her tuscan red hair flowing behind her like she was
running naked through a field. Her laptop just sits on her knees and
she's hacking into six websites trying to find out where the hell the
nearest gas station is so we can pick up some fuckin' gas. And why
didn't we just keep a jug in the back? Because we had to once again make
room for those shitty night goggles Frohike insists we keep in the van.
        We're not even in the van and I have half a notion to just let her
sorry ass freeze out here, but I stay because if I go in she could get
kidnapped and it's not like I'm worried about her, but she has the body
of a ten year old and some perverted asshole might try to rape her.
        Just like the thoughts that are going through my head right now. She's
not ten. She's thirty-four. And I'm not some perverted asshole. I'm a
thirty-seven year old hacker who's terrified that if we don't get out of
here soon, some government agency is going to come kick our ass through

I wanna fuck her so bad.
        She just sits there in the wind, her fingers are shaking with cold, I
can see it, and she's trying to locate a GPS to scan over us so it'll
show up on the laptop. But if we stay out here any longer, her comp will
literally freeze.
And so will we.
        I want to grab her by her naked shoulders, wrap my arms around her
waist and drag her kicking and screaming into the van. I want to throw
her down onto the floor of it and press my weight against her and shout
at her that we're going to die in this god damn blizzard and that it's
all her fault.
But it really isn't her fault.
        I want her to lay down on that floor with my weight pressed against
her. I want her to look me in the eye; I want to see the terror in them.
I want her to whimper and almost scream at the rage I show her. I wanna
beat my fist against the floor, right next to her ear. And then I want
to press my lips against her and fuck her for all she's worth.
And I'm still sitting here staring at her shivering little body typing
away at the computer at 105 wpm.
"Let's go in." I try to tell her in a hoarse voice. It's the cold. The
wind. The fact that I haven't had anything to drink in over six hours.
I bet her juices taste sweet. I'd like to drink her in.
"Give me five more minutes." she shouts back. Her voice strong, and I
wonder how she could have so much energy. It must be her age.
        I sigh. We're nearly the same age and yet I feel so much older than
her. But it's only in body. She claims it's mentally. And I think
spiritually, if there is such a thing, that we're exactly the same age.
And I wish we were thinking the same thoughts.
Because instead of being out here in the dead of winter, we'd be inside,
getting it on like we were the last humans on earth.
And if she doesn't find out where we are, we just might be.
        I've given up now. The snow's beginning to fall harder and she's
shivering more and more violently. The trees are swaying in the wind and
we're both so scantily clad that hypothermia could set in at any moment.
"Thera! Let's go back!" I shout to her, my voice still hoarse. I know
it's still parched and I wonder if there's any water in the van. A
bottle, a thermos. Even some whiskey.
Maybe her kiss.
        That god-damn bitch holds up her hand, her signal for 'just give me one
more minute'. We don't have a minute. We have thirty seconds until I
head inside, with or without her and her fuckin' lap top. Maybe if I
just grabbed her like I've been thinking. Pick her up, drag her to the
van. Strip us both naked and cuddle her.
But I don't want to cuddle her. I want to make love to her.  I want to
be inside her. I want to run my hands through her hair, my tongue around
her mouth.
I've never wanted a woman so bad.
I've never had a woman.
        I look up at the sky. It's a cloudy dark gray and I'm sure freezing
rain will start to fall. All the trees are covered with it now and most
of it begins to fall in my hair, in my lap. I wonder how in hell we got
here. I can't even remember now.
        I give up and watch as Thera looks like she has some sort of seizure
from the cold. I decide to stop playing nice. I'm fuckin' cold, I'm
hungry, I'm thirsty, and I'm so god damn fuckin' horny right now that it
hurts.
"Thera...you bitch! Drop your lap top and let's go!" I shout to her,
using all my energy to make sure I'm heard and all my strength to call
her a bitch. I watch as her shoulders tense up. Either from the name or
the cold. I don't know which. I decide now's the time to make my move
and so I stand and begin to walk to her.
It's all like a dream now. Some horribly gone wrong dream.
        I put my right arm around her shoulders and they're like ice. I gently
slide my left hand underneath the crook of her knees and pick her up.
She isn't heavy to lift, but she's fucking cold. I leave her lap top and
I hear her whine.
"Don't leave it." she whispers as her head comes to rest on my shoulder.
 Her lips are beginning to turn a light blue and her cheeks are red.
Little snow flakes have attached themselves to her eye lashes.
        I ignore her plea to save the computer and I know it's hurting us both.
To leave a perfectly good lap top all alone in the cold. One that could
possibly save our lives.  But we have more in the van and trying to
sound far from heroic, a human life *is* worth more than...than...a
virtual reality.
        I make my way back to the van. The wind's blowing harder than ever and
it's so fuckin' ass cold that I nearly lose my footing a few times from
the ice that is pouring down on us.  I try to hold her close to me, to
wrap whatever parts of my clothes around her.
        By the time I reach the van, the coldness is beginning to stiffen my
body and her weight seems to be growing more and more heavy.  I try to
adjust her weight on my arms and some how I get the van door slid open.
        Even though I want to be graceful and slowly lower her to the van
floor, I almost half throw her into the van as I climb in myself and
shut the door close. I hear her moan and her teeth are chattering. She's
shivering violently and I see her fingers are almost lobster red in
color. In fact, her whole body has gone red, white and blue. Just like
the American flag sparkling on the bib of her overalls.
"So cold." she whispers out as she tries to wrap her arms around her
shoulders.  I have half a notion to turn on the van, make the heater run
full blast, but I remember how we got into this problem in the first
place. There's no gas in the car and in a VW van there's no simple way
to get the engine to run to make the heater work. Besides, the valve on
the control is almost worn thin. To keep this baby up all night, it
would kill it.
At least, that's what Frohike always tells us.
        I begin to take off my jacket and wrap her in it. It hardly helps as
she still shivers. Some how I know I have to help her. I've seen plenty
of movies where people get stuck in snow storms and they strip down to
nothing and hold each other all night.
End up making sweet beautiful love all night.
I don't even think I could unclutch those overalls from her without
getting beaten up.
Even if she is an ice cube.
        I decide to damn it all and I slowly reach out, my right hand fumbling
to undo what I believe is the right clasp on her overalls. I stare into
her beautiful amber eyes and watch as her melting snow covered eyelashes
blink and look into my own hazel eyes.
"What are you doing?" she whispers out softly, her voice now hoarse, but
her steaming hot breath flowing over my neck.  How do I tell her that
I'm trying to keep her warm without it making it sound like I wanna fuck
her and get all this tension out of me.
"Haven't you seen those movies," I begin as my hand still fumbles with
the clasp. I shake my left hand a bit and make it help my other one
un-hook the strap of her overalls,
"Haven't you seen those movies where people get stuck in their cars. In
blizzards and they know the only way to keep warm is if they strip naked
and--" before I can finish I hear her say,
"No. I haven't. What movie is it?" and just as she's saying this, my
hands reach their first goal of unhooking the strap to the right side of
her overalls and I can hear myself slightly mutter "Damn" and I watch as
those amber eyes look at me, confused, almost vacant.
"OK, so maybe it's on some TV show." I tell her as my hands move to her
left side now and begin to fumble and unhook that clasp. I take a quick
look over her body. Her own hands are holding tight onto my jacket. The
exact spot where the zipper runs up to close it. Her hands are so tight
on the jacket I just know she'll have zipper markings on her hands.
"What TV show?" I hear her ask, still softly, in that whisper that makes
her sound like she's seven. Her breath still oddly warm against my neck.
Damnit! Why can't she just shut the hell up and let me fuck her in
silence?
        But I know I don't want to fuck her in silence. I want her to scream
out my name. I want her to pull at my hair. I want her to thank God she
met me.
"The A-Team." I lie, and badly. I've never been able to lie and not only
that, but I've never seen one episode of the A-Team. I've just heard
about it. The show and those snow scenes from some magical else world.
        I look back to her eyes and see as her head slowly nods. Those lips are
so white, almost blue. I get this sensation of wanting to kiss them. I
lick my own chapped lips and my eyes move down from her lips, to her
chin, to her sweet pale white neck and I hear a tiny clink as my hands
have finally unclasped the other part of her overalls. She shivers a bit
more and whether it's voluntary or involuntary, I feel my body lean more
against hers. My weight coming down on her. And a small bulge beginning
to grow in my pants, but just big enough I know that she'll have to feel
it eventually.
"So do I just get naked?" I hear her ask as my fingers slowly pull down
the bib of her overalls and the blue tube top comes into view. Her skin
silky white underneath. Her slim and well toned stomach coming into
view.
"No." I can hear myself choke out. "I get naked too." As long as I don't
freeze to death.  I can begin to feel a little heat generate between our
bodies, but it's not much. Not much at least to fog over my glasses.
"Should I--" and she pauses as she turns her head and coughs. It sounds
bad and her body racks against mine. Part of me begins to have second
thoughts. Thoughts maybe I shouldn't do this. But one look at her white
stomach erases all those thoughts. I want my own pale belly on hers.
"How can I help?" she asks as I feel her one hand begin to loosen up on
the death grip she has on my jacket and ever so slowly move up to my
shoulder. She could help by ripping my jeans off me, but at the current
state of affairs, I think that is headed towards more on the impossible
side. I can hear my brain take a leave of absence as I deliver the most
idiotic line in the history of the world.
"Just let me work my magic baby." I sound like those perverts in chat
rooms, but I guess something in that line reassures her because for the
first time in hours I watch as her blood red lips curl up into a grin
and she snuggles closer to me.
"Cold." she says, her voice still sounding more like a seven year old.
"I'm working on it." I hear myself mutter as I slowly slide her overalls
down her legs, leaving them at her ankles. Tube top and a pair of bikini
cut blue underwear. I begin to slide the tub top up her body but she
begins to cough again, moving her head to the side so I don't get
coughed on. I stop for a moment. Let her body ride it off. Let the more
pressing matters in my pants take a breather. To let them know this is
going to take a while.
After she's done coughing I hear her voice, so weak, tell me,
"The top...clasps...like a bra...behind me." she says, pausing every so
often to catch her breath. My entire weight is still pressed against her
and I think that maybe that's why she's coughing, but the moment I begin
to move, her arms shoot out to my shoulders and try to hold me in place.
"No." I see her lips move, but no sound escapes from her mouth. I move
my hands to the back of her, having to lift her up so I can put them
between her and my jacket. My hands once again begin to fumble with the
clasps. My fingers feel so numb and everything's so cold. I finally feel
her top become lose in my hands and watch as it almost falls away,
slides down her. I pull it off and I see her beautiful lily white
breasts. The ever so mocha colored nipples all ready hardened by the
cold.
I can't help it as my hand reaches out to brush one, to finger it. I
hear her moan and I watch as it grows it's hardest in my hand. I feel
myself licking my lips again and I look to her face, her eyes looking
into mine, as if we're meant to be together for this one moment. As if
we're meant to die together.
I know I'm lowering my head to hers. I feel my lips against hers, hers
against mine. This kiss as chaste as any kiss could be. A kiss so chaste
they'd never show it on TV. The kind people use when they're kissing
relatives.
My hands go around her waist now, I'm holding her tight, my arms lifting
her off the cold floor, even if she can't feel it. My lips still on hers
and I don't know who makes the first move, but suddenly our tongues are
dancing together. In her mouth, in mine. I can feel the air begin to
grow dense. The air warm up. Her lips are still cold. Like kissing an
ice cube, but instead of getting that drink I've been wanting, I feel
myself thirsting for more. But not for some cool liquid. I want her. I
want every part of her. And I can't help but wonder if she wants me just
as bad.
The kiss seems like it goes on forever and I feel her breasts pressed up
against my shirt and I don't want them against my shirt, I want them
against my chest. I lower her back to the floor, I let go of her, as
much as I don't want to, I let go and she's watching me. Watching me as
I take off my Ramones shirt and placing it over her own discarded tube
top from what seems like weeks ago.
Like lightening we’re back at each other, our arms wrapped around each
other, our mouths over the other’s, our tongues so intertwined no one
will ever be able to pull us apart.  I know she has to be warming up
now. Maybe not physically, but at least emotionally, I can feel her
hands all over me. Massaging my shoulders, my back, rubbing my lower
back where the band of my jeans are still pressing against my waist. Her
short finger nails lightly rubbing up and down my spine, sending shivers
all over my body.
My own hands reach around to her front, to lightly finger her nipples,
to knead the soft flesh of her breasts under my hands. I can feel her,
ever so slightly, buck her hips towards mine, and now I know she wants
me, all of me.
I pull my hands away from her breasts, go down to the metal button and
the zipper on my own pants, working at them slowly, knowing if I go too
fast my hands will only fumble and the zipper will probably get stuck.
Her own hands pull away from my back and go down to her underwear. She’s
slowly pulling them down on her legs, down to her ankles as best she
can. Just as I’m finally pulling down my jeans. My boxers giving enough
room so my...excitement isn’t being constricted by any major clothing
articles.
I suddenly find myself terrified. In a matter of seconds I won’t be a
virgin anymore, and the way she sounded when I gave this idea, it sounds
like she won’t be either.
She’s tugging at my boxers now, ever so gently pulling them off herself,
and I help her. Together, both our hands slide the thin material down my
legs, and before they’re even at my own ankles, she pressing her hips
against mine, the head of my excitement just barely teasing her opening.

I feel a huge rush run over my body, especially my head, and it takes
all my energy just to not force myself into her and start to thrust
wildly. I put my hands on her waist; I hold her tight, and her arms go
around my neck, her face burrying into my neck. I very carefully slide
myself into her and she’s so tight. I go even slower, afraid I’m hurting
her. Her little squeaks, and arms growing tighter around my neck only
seem to confirm my suspicions and I stop. She quickly baps the base of
my neck and whispers into my ear.
“Keep going. It’ll be fine.” and suddenly my glasses fog over and I
can’t see a thing, but I continue to gently slide into her until I’m
finally all the way in.
We lay there for a moment, both of us too scared to move.