The Catalyst Spark

The Catalyst Spark By Rob Matthews “I told you how I feel about you people walking across my driveway.” “Yes, Mrs. Beasley. I’m so sorry. I’ll go around.” The last thing Marshall Galloway wanted to do was walk around Mrs. Beasley’s long-ass driveway. He had spent most of the afternoon mowing and weed-eating her lawn for Grass Master Landscapers and he was tired. His co-worker Kip was supposed to be planting and mulching the flowerbeds, but he had kept fairly busy staying out of Mrs. Beasley’s line of vision and lounging in the shade whenever possible. Marshall slung his heavy industrial weed-eater over his shoulder and walked several hundred feet to the road, across the front of the driveway, and back up to where Kip was sitting under a crepe myrtle. He sat the weed-eater down with a thump and plucked a showy bright purple bloom from the tree. “f**k you, Kip,” said Marshall. He held the flower up to his nose. “And f**k this crepe myrtle.” “Sorry, man,” said Kip who didn’t seem to be sorry at all. “I was up all night. I just don’t feel like doing s**t today. Especially for that b***h Mrs. Beasley.” “Hey, it’s her house. If she doesn’t want us to do certain s**t, it’s her right to tell us not to.” “It’s just how she says it. She’s a jerk and you know it. And what did that innocent crepe myrtle ever do to you?” “Well, for one thing, it’s beautiful, but it doesn’t smell very good. I mean, it’s a tease.” Kip groaned and collapsed back into the mulch. “Talk about a freakin’ tease, man. That girl I told you about? Kelly?” “Yeah.” “Well, me and Kelly went out last night. I took her to dinner, we went out drinking and dancing. She was all up on me on the dance floor. She got me all worked up and I’d be damned if she didn’t leave with one of her stupid-ass friends.” “She’s not a hooker, dude,” said Marshall. “She doesn’t have to put out just because you bought her some chicken strips.” “No, but s**t. My d**k hasn’t gone down since.” Kip grabbed his crotch and Marshall could see the other man’s erection straining inside his pants leg. Marshall blushed and turned his head. “Jesus, man. What’s wrong with you?” Kip laughed. “Look at your face! I thought you were red before. You’re, like, purple.” “Shut up,” said Marshall. The delicate Irish complexion of Marshall’s face was not only sensitive to the elements and to physical exertion, but it also broadcast his emotions loud and clear. “You’re such a prude, man.” “I’m not a prude,” said Marshall. “I just don’t like it when you perv out on me like that.” Kip scooted over so that Marshall had room to sit beside him. “Having boners and wanting to f**k hot chicks is not being pervy. It’s called being a red-blooded American male.” Marshall just shrugged his shoulders. “We need to get you out and get you laid, my boy.” “Naw,” said Marshall. “I’m good. How can you think about s*x after working in this damned heat all day? Oh wait, you didn’t work. You sat on your ass.” “Hey,” said Kip. “The heat zaps my energy too, but the call of the wild, man. The urge to merge. Don’t you feel it, like, coursing through your veins.” “Not really, no.” “Then we definitely need to get you laid. You ain’t livin’ right. You a virgin, Marsh?” Marshall frowned. “No. Of course not. I’ve had a couple of girlfriends. s*x is okay, but it’s just not my thing, really.” “That’s cool. More p***y for me, then. Let’s knock off for the day. You sure you don’t want to go out?” “Naw,” said Marshall. “I’m good. Just drop me off at my house if you don’t mind.” The two men walked to the road and loaded the company work truck. After a short trip across town Kip dropped Marshall off in front of his tiny one-bedroom house before squealing his tires and tearing off down the street. Marshall shook his head, checked his mailbox, and headed inside. He briefly considered taking a shower, but decided instead on the cool comfort of a bath. He could barely afford to make the mortgage payments. A luxury like air conditioning was out, which made a nice bath one of the few ways left to him to cool down. While he waited for the tub to fill, he contemplated his need for a shave, but decided his face and neck had gotten too much sun. He didn’t want to add insult to injury by dragging a razor, whose blade should have been changed two weeks ago, through his thick stubble. Marshall stripped off his clothes once the tub was filled and saw that his head wasn’t the only part of him that had gotten too much sun. His strong arms were also bright red. He would not have been surprised to hear steam rising off of them as he sank into the delicious cool water in the claw-foot tub. He inhaled sharply at his back’s initial contact with the cool cast iron, but he soon relaxed into sweet relief. He took a washcloth from the edge of the tub, soaked it in the water, and laid it over his tired eyes. Just as he let out a satisfied sigh, he heard someone rap on his front door before jiggling the knob and coming inside. “Marsh? You home?” Footsteps approached the bathroom door before its knob was also turned and his next door neighbor and best friend Jillian came barging in. “s**t Marshall, this place is stifling.” Marshall sat up and plunged his hands under water in an attempt to cover himself. “Jillian! What the f**k!” “Oh, s**t Marshall. If I see something I haven’t seen before I’ll throw a stick at it. I gotta pee. You mind?” Jillian pulled down her black scrub pants and panties and plopped onto Marshall’s toilet. She drew in a deep breath and released it with obvious relief. “Man, what a day. Work was nuts. Freakin’ Bridget called in today, of course. It’s a full-moon so everyone’s hog wild. This heat wave has everyone pissed off. To top it all off, my gas light is on when I start heading home and I had to pee so bad I didn’t want to stop. You know my thing about public restrooms. Ick. Anyway, I said a silent prayer that my car wouldn’t die on my way home and I wouldn’t have to run and pee in the woods like an animal.” “Uh, Jill? I’m naked here. And you’re peeing. Like, one foot away from me.” “You’re such a prude, Marshall.” Jillian pulled up her pants as she stood up before lowering the toilet lid and sitting on it to continue talking. “You’re the second person to say that to me in like literally an hour. I’m not a prude, damn it.” “Oh? Then stand up.” “You’re such a jerk, Jill. I’m not standing up and showing you all my bits and pieces.” “Yep. Confirmed prude.” “I don’t know,” said Marshall. “Maybe I am. I think I’m just old fashioned. I would have fit in better back in the day. You know, like before random people barged into houses and peed in front of people who were minding their own business just moments before?” “I resent that remark. Okay, Ward Cleaver. Maybe you’ll run into June out there somewhere in this great big world. Until then, you’re stuck with your crass neighbor lady who sometimes relieves herself in front of you.” “I think I’m cool with that. Hey, what are you doing tonight?” asked Marshall. “No clue. Changing out of these gross ass scrubs for starters. I have puke and snot and…” “That’s enough. I don’t need a forensics report on the fluids you have on your person. What are you doing after you change your clothes?” “I have to go out to my mom’s. She’s got some stuff she needs me to do. Which reminds me! That’s why I came here. Can I borrow your hedge trimmers?” “You want to go with me to Trixy’s first?” “Tempting, but no. I really have to get over there so I can get done and relax.” “Boo. Okay. The trimmers are way old, so be careful with them. I keep my good ones in the work truck and Kip drives that.” Jillian nodded and saluted Marshall. “If you change your mind, let me know,” he said. “I’m heading out approximately thirteen minutes after I finally convince you to get up and go the hell home.” “Why don’t you get up and make me?” Jillian said with a wink. She squawked and ducked to the left as Marshall threw a bar of soap at her. “Hey! Watch it. You almost hit my boob.” “I guess I need to work on my aim. I was trying for your face.” Jillian smiled and messed up Marshall’s hair before heading out of the bathroom. “I’ll leave you to whack your weasel in peace. Call me tomorrow!”