Thank you Ken, I’m of the “Keep On Truckin’ Generation…LOL
Short Story / Keep on Truckin'
“I told you, I’m not buying those jeans!”
“But look, they’re waaay cool! Everyone has them, and I’ve tried them on. They fit perfectly!”
“I said NO, now let’s go, your father is waiting for us to go eat.”
The young teen aged girl stood glaring, defiance emanating from her. She made no effort to comply with the slightly older woman’s request. Hands on her bared hips, she stood stiffly upright, her ripped, baggy, faded, thong baring jeans almost falling off her body, held in place only by the chain belt looped around and dangling halfway to her knees. She also wore an “Eat me” T-shirt pulled tightly across her almost developed chest, but baring her pierced navel. She was angry enough that her maroon and blonde hair almost glowed. The lights sparkled off the earrings in her ears, and from the piercing in her nose. She wasn’t budging. The pair of jeans in her grasp were huge, and black, with zippers everywhere you could sew them, and layers of thin chains that dangled from the waist. The humor of her statement that they fit perfectly was not lost on me, but I saw that it was on the other woman.
The older woman looked at her, and sighed. She was tired, the look on her face told more about her than anything else. She was dressed in the casual style of most middle class parents, but she did not quite fit into the picture as the defiant teen’s mother. In fact, she did not look old enough even to be her older sister, even with her mask of exhaustion.
As the store security officer, I saw this scene played out in many ways, with teens and parents, and teens and grandparents, and teens and their friends too. The clothes in this store were not everyone’s cup of tea. And the kids drawn to wear them seemed to come with more attitude than the usual teenager already had…and that could make for some nasty scenes. But this was the season of giving, the time for presents and peace on Earth, and usually the parents gave in a little more easily than most other times of the year.
As I watched them through the two way glass door designed to hide my presence from shoplifters, I smiled, remembering the days of my own youth, when the coolest kids were wearing bikini jeans and elephant bells and silky, shiny nylon poly shirts with loud designs on them. Those were the days. I remembered how my parents could not understand that they were just clothes, they always were horrified when I’d come home with a new outfit. Everyone my age dressed that way, it was almost the only thing you could find in the stores, unless you went into the men’s jeans for work, or the older women’s section. But those clothes marked you as somebody uncool…and that was the last thing any teen ever wanted to be. I had to buy my own clothes if I wanted things my parents did not like. It was a small sacrifice I made to be cool.
About the time I decided that I’d have to go break up the stand-off happening in the center aisle, a man stepped up. Older than the woman by at least 15 years, greying at the temples, wearing jeans that fit nicely, and a casual cotton pullover shirt, he walked in with all the confidence in the world. The father, I assumed, from the look on the teen’s face. She held out the pair of jeans toward him, silently, beseeching. He looked at them, looked at her, looked at the woman beside him, who shook her head. He looked at the girl again, and said one word.
“No.”
She threw the jeans at him, dissolving in tears, and went quickly out the door. The woman rolled her eyes, and started after her, leaving the man there with the oh so offensive jeans hanging from his head. He sighed, pulled them off his head and shoulders, looked at them again, shaking his head. Then, he walked to the cashier, handed her a plastic card, and signed his name as she neatly folded the jeans and placed them into a bag. He smiled, thanked her, and walked out. As he passed, I could see more about him…the earring, a gold chain around his neck, and the biggest portion of his tattooed arm…a figure of a man, walking, wearing a t-shirt and BIG bell bottoms…and the writing, which simply said “Keep On Truckin’” It made my day. Yes, Virginia, there IS a Santa Claus. Please, don’t throw jeans on his head anymore…the chains might put his eye out.
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duhleenkwint reviewed Version 1 -
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jaywalke reviewed Version 1 -
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The piece sets the moment well. It was disrupted for me, however, by a few things. I am going to be embarrassingly grammatical . . . if I didn’t tell you these things bothered me, I would be lying.
“Teen aged” is one word, or it can (rarely) be hyphenated. ”Thong baring” is also hyphenated, and it is gratifyingly visual. ”Nylon poly shirts”—nylon and polyester are different substances. I really wish I didn’t know useless tidbits like that, but I do and when they appear in stories they intrude upon the narrative for me.
“She was tired, the look on her face told more about her than anything else.” What did the look tell you? This made me think that the narrator is keeping things from me.
I wouldn’t mind seeing some cuts to this piece. I think the section outlining the narrator’s own youth can be trimmed, giving us a taste while losing some fluff. That will make the reinforcement at the end much sweeter. There is definitely a good moment in here, but right now it is obscured by a lot of extraneous observation.
Cut to the core of it! Tell me what the narrator thinks of these people. I want to ride along.
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Jelissa_Jones reviewed Version 1 -
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Awesome piece! The point of view is one I haven’t read very often.
“She was angry enough that her maroon and blonde hair almost glowed.” This line really got to me as I just can’t grasp how being angry would make her hair seem to glow.
Also the way you describe the older woman really makes me wonder her relationship. Was she really the mother or is there something more to be said here?
CanguroArgentino reviewed Version 1 -
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Cute and complex.
Your writing style is fun and detailed. Your observations delve deeper than the outset, imbuing your characters with a mild personality, somewhat stereotyped though thoroughly emotional.
teen aged is either teenaged or teen-aged.
MrPhoenix reviewed Version 1 -
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Very good social commentary. Minor grammatical errors, but aside from that its enjoyable and well written. If anything, more could be added in terms of the narrator’s position.
April 23, 2006
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This is poignant. I would have been killed if I bought the jeans anyway.
But Keep on Trucking explains it all.
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