Hey guys and gals. This isn't complete but I wanted to post what I had. I'll add more descriptions of the scene as the two characters talk as well as naming the narrator but right now that isn't what is important to me. The actual meat of the story is. This is a back and forth with two friends with the narrator being accused of only telling sad stories about his life. That part isn't here. What is here is his reply about a happy story. It might seem a bit outlandish but its a bit biographical. I stole this scenario including the first kiss from real life and I hope you won't mind my fictionalizing as I try to describe something that is stranger than fiction. Please let me know what you think. Even mixed with truth I've never written any fiction of any kind. So please give me your best advice and don't fear tempering your judgment for a first timer in the world of fiction.
I Owe You A Happy Story or
Passion Mountain Volunteer
"I suppose I owe you a happy story." My voice somehow managed to fend off competition from the busy night in Queens to make it to my friends ears. "Would the story of my first kiss be good enough. What if it was with twenty showgirls on a mountain in Kentucky?" An unexpectedly sharp retort told me I was fighting an uphill battle, "that hardly counts as a first kiss if its with twenty people."
It was too late. I was determined to remember just as much as I was determined to share the story. "But you can't argue it isn't a happy story can you?" I replied. He smirked rolling his eyes as if this was an argument he'd already won. Again I didn't care leave it to Kyle Martin to think that there was some melancholy lurking in a story like this.
The corners of my mouth curled into a rare smile as I started, "I was twelve years old. We were on a family vacation in Kentucky. One of those roadside attractions that somehow got lost on its way to Route 66 and wound up on a mountainside between Louisville and my grandma's hometown in Tennessee. It was a living history museum but it wasn't recreating anything that ever existed in Kentucky it was a Western town full of Can Can dancers gunfighters and some dubiously dressed white people pretending to be natives. The Can Can dancers needed a male volunteer in the Saloon and nobody's hand went up but mine. So they laughed and put me onstage in a chair. They pretended to tie me up with a lasso and then they danced and kissed me for about half an hour for their entire show.
I don't know if it was a sense of humor or that they thought it would play to the audience but they didn't just kiss my cheeks. One of them whispered a question right into my ear. "Have you ever kissed anybody darlin." I blushed so deep red that I must have mirrored the stains of lipstick on my shirt from all the joking abuse up to that point. I shook my head to say no and she leaned in with a smile and planted a kiss firmly on my lips. She had thrown her red boa around my neck obscuring both our faces and making the audience think it was all part of the joke. I didn't know what to think and I didn't have a vocabulary then to describe it.
After she was done she erupted in a giggle to the audience and I can only imagine I was the dictionary definition of slack jawed. In fact my mouth must have hit the floor. But after that kiss I was numb chin to chest and I couldn't feel it. She must have said something to the other girls because one by one they all swooped down on me. The feathers in their costumes and waist length boas accented their high kicking legs making them seem like a pack of affectionate flamingos.
I honestly don't remember much after that point. It was like being introduced to ice cream for the first time and scooping up twenty cones full of sugary indulgence. Except there was no hint of unpleasantness. No brain freeze. Just a dazed kid walking out of a candy shop needing to be pinched to assure himself he wasn't dreaming.
Kyle was still not convinced. "I don't consider that a first kiss. That's twenty strangers playing around with you for a show and you weren't the one doing the kissing." "Well after ten or so you get a few ideas. I didn't say I didn't kiss back just that I didn't know what I was doing. Who does their first time?" "But you didn't even mention her name. You can't tell me you don't know the name of the first girl you kissed?" "I honestly can't. They had to rush offstage and she wasn't exactly going to exchange numbers with a kid." "That story really is you then. I knew you would find a way to screw up making out with showgirls. Your first kiss and its a stranger. Always a stranger because you don't even have a name."
"Now your the one being gloomy." "You rub off on people. I imagine those poor girls caught a little of you to. Contact glum." "I was a dumb lucky kid. How much happier can you get?" "You could have had the first kiss everyone else had. Wet and sloppy and with someone who actually liked you. Someone whose name you can remember. That's happy." I paused. It was miraculous. Kyle has spent too much time around me and been pulled into my wistful orbit. I had to surrender this argument after all. "Yeah that would have been happy. But then I guess it wouldn't have been one of my stories."