What I Did This Summer by Davey Fitz



  BY Michael Golvach

  BOOKS

  Split The Middle

  Missing Pieces

  Fix

  SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

  Bloody Gullets

  INSANE RAMBLINGS / SELF-HELP

  This Is Not A Book: Brain Spanking Vols 1–4

  SHORT STORIES

  What I Did This Summer by Davey Fitz

  What I Did This Summer

  by Davey Fitz

  by

  Michael Golvach

  ISBN:

  Copyright © 2016 by Michael Golvach

  https://mikegolvach.net

  Cover design by BookStylings – bookstylings.com

  Book design by BookStylings – bookstylings.com

  Book Editing by Richard “Tony” Held – heldeditingservices.blogspot.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organisations, products and events portrayed in this work are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Michael Golvach

  [email protected]

  https://mikegolvach.net

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing: November 2016

  Dedication:

  For My Readers

  ~

  For Allowing Me To Occupy A Small Space In Your Lives.

  ~

  Thank You.

  Acknowledgements:

  A Great many thanks to everyone who took the time to read this story, and provide me with their valuable feedback, at the expense of their own time.

  Thanks to my editor, Richard “Tony” Held, for his exceptional work helping make this story better.

  Thanks to Nikki, Meredith and all of the brilliant folks on the BookStylings team who made this story’s inside and outside look and feel so beautiful.

  Without all of your help, and infinite patience with me, this story would not have been possible.

  What I Did This Summer

  by Davey Fitz

  This summer I stayed a district away from home at my favourite uncle’s house. Actually, to be honest, I’m not really sure he’s related to me. I think my mom just calls him uncle because he helps out by watching me when she has to go away. I’m not even sure she’s ever really met him. He said I should start out this paper by writing that I really hope I get a good grade on it. I told him I didn’t think we were allowed to do that. But he insisted, so I put it in here. It’s not the first sentence, like he wanted, but I think he’d be happy it’s in the first paragraph. He also said I shouldn’t write that I think this sort of essay is too childish an exercise for a teenager to still have to do before the beginning of the school year, but I’m putting that in here too, so you’ll know what I’m writing is honest and true.

  I learnt a lot of things living at my uncle’s over the past few months. For instance, when I first got there and wanted to watch some television he said to me: “Look around you, Davey. Look at your world. Are you surrounded by things you love? Why not?” I didn’t understand what he meant. Except, I thought maybe he meant the world is a beautiful place and I needed to live in it, not just watch moving pictures of it, to really experience its true wonder. He would never explain himself. I think it’s because he figured me out a long time before I really understood myself. Or maybe he just guessed correctly, based on what he knew of my relationship with my mom. He knows I need my world to have some sense of certainty. But he insists I’ll be better off if my world is a puzzle. A riddle. Something to work on, inside my head, when he isn’t around, which is almost all the time. I’m not really sure why my mom thinks it’s a good idea to have him look after me when she’s away, but I don’t have much say in the matter and it gives me the freedom to do whatever I want when I’m living with him. Except watch television, because he doesn’t own a TV set. Or any lights. He doesn’t own a lot of things most people do. My bed is usually a mattress on the floor in an otherwise empty room.

  I think the most important lesson I learnt this summer with my uncle, I learnt on my own. While I was feeling truly alone. While he probably assumed I was sitting around my room trying to figure out whatever confusing response to a simple request he’d left me to ponder. I had a few friends in his borough and, even though my uncle and my mom probably wouldn’t approve of me spending time with them, it’s not like either of them were around to complain. As long as I made it back home by night, no questions were asked. If anyone was there to ask them.

  My friends and I spent most of the summer doing nothing of real consequence. That’s what summer’s for, I think. I got to watch television with them, so that made me happy. But it also made me sad, I guess, because they liked to watch the news and that made me think of what my uncle had said in response to my initial plea to waste some time sitting in front of a TV set. The stuff the news reported on every night wasn’t good. And it wasn’t fun, like most of the times I spent doing stuff around town with, or without, my friends. It was all depressing. And it made me not want to watch any more. Mostly, it made me realise that, when I was watching the television with them, I felt like I wasn’t surrounded by anything I loved. My friends were there, sure, but the terrible things the news people showed us were happening all over the world—even in our little part of it—made it seem like maybe my world wasn’t really that beautiful a place after all.

  But my uncle, for all of his strange and evasive behaviour, had managed to get that philosophical muscle working overtime inside me. And sometime around a week or two into my vacation, I started hanging out by myself a lot more, after my friends and I got done doing what we did for fun. His little questions even got me wondering if what I considered fun was really that great, because what my friends and I did for fun wasn’t legal and, if we ever got caught, we’d get in a lot of trouble. My uncle told me not to put that part in this paper, either, since he said it might put him in a fix too, but I thought I should, since it directly relates to what I learnt and he’s never going to read this far into my essay anyway. I could be wrong. I can’t predict what he’ll do from moment to moment. But I’m positive I won’t be there in person to hand in this assignment and get whatever grade I deserve.

  During my first few weeks in town, while I was hanging out with my friends and we were having fun, I met a girl I liked a whole lot. I’d seen her many times before, over the years, on other summers with my uncle and on days when I didn’t have school and my mom had to go away. And I always remembered seeing her, even though I was sure she never noticed me because we didn’t have the same friends, I was never in town on any sort of regular schedule, I didn’t want her to meet my uncle, or see my room, and she was way too pretty to just go up and talk to. My friends would make fun of me whenever she was around. They were being mean, but I felt sure they were trying to help me out in their own way.

  They started out calling me a chicken whenever I couldn’t get up the guts to talk to her but, as we got older, they began telling me she had a stupid looking face and she was fat and ugly and I could do a lot better. It made me angry when they talked about her like that, but it also made me feel special. And it made me feel lucky. Not to have friends like them, but to know the one girl who could stop my heart with a glance in my direction might be meant just for me. If she looked as repellent to the rest of the world as she looked attractive to me, that had to mean something really
good. It made sense to me, anyway, and I didn’t care much about what the rest of the world thought as long as I could look at my world and see myself surrounded by at least one thing I loved.

  Her name was Melody. And I suppose, if she’s still among the living, that hasn’t changed. Although I’m pretty sure the last time I saw her was the next to last time anyone ever did.

  She was stunning. Skin as white as milk and orange-red hair that looked darker in the sunlight. Covered from head to toe with a nearly invisible soft white fur. A little heavy around the sides of her lips, but the whiskers were incredibly sexy and not masculine at all. Very small breasts. Long, skinny-fat arms and legs. Hips that looked wide, even though they weren’t broader than her waist, and an ass that looked wide too, and flat, even though it was fat at the bottom. Her upper thighs were big and soft, perfectly shaped and fluid and the lower half of her stomach was an adorable pooch belly. Most of these imperfections, if anyone were to consider them imperfect and not impossibly arousing, she kept tucked away in body slimming undergarments. Hosiery she wore from the waist down instead of the revealing lacy panties all the other girls wore underneath the