Steve Grogan is an ongoing contributor to Writer to Writers. He has published several short stories on the site, which can be found on the main page under the heading “Steve Grogan’s Fiction.” He has had several poems and short stories published over the years, some of which are available on Amazon. (See the announcement at the end of this post.)
He is the writer and creator of the ongoing, zombie, post-apocalyptic, Romero-meets-Dungeons-and-Dragons webcomic REDemption. Alternatively, Steve describes the comic by saying, “It is to zombie fiction what KILL BILL was to kung fu movies: everything I love about the genre housed under one roof and mixed with my voice.”
October 3, 2008
I had my phobia picked out. Now it was time to call Bob to see if this would do the trick. So that’s exactly what I did.
He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, Bob,” I said, announcing who I was. “Listen, I have a little bit of a problem getting the rent to you. I have the money in my checking account, but my problem is in going to the bank to get it.”
Silence. Then: “Go on.”
“I’ve been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder called agoraphobia,” I said. Then I gave him a brief rundown of the disorder’s symptoms. “If I knew someone I could trust enough, I’d give them my ATM card and my PIN so they could withdraw the rent money, but I don’t know anyone I’d trust to do that. I was thinking…”
Then Bob cut me off with a question which, had he asked me in person, may have very well inspired me to kiss him.
“Have you ever heard of PayPal?”
My heart started to pound in my chest. “Yes.”
“Okay. I use it all the time on eBay. The money goes right to my banking account. But don’t forget there is a fee when you transfer the money. You have to factor that in when you send your payment,” Bob said.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“Let me give you my user ID,” he said. “You got pen and paper?”
I didn’t, but I quickly gathered up these items. Somehow I managed to write the information down even though I was dizzy with joy.
“Mr. Schulerman, I can’t tell you how much this means to me,” I said.
“It’s not a problem,” Bob said. “I know what you’re going through. I had that condition when I came back from ‘Nam. Took me a long time to get over it, but I beat it.”
“I was only just diagnosed with it, so I don’t know how long it’ll be staying.”
“You’ll beat it,” he assured me.
With that we said good bye. I immediately sat down at the computer and transferred Bob’s money. It was done in less than two minutes.
After paying the rent, I flopped on the couch and watched some television. I didn’t take in what I was viewing because my mind was on bills, namely ones I could eliminate. With my current condition, I didn’t need a car anymore. In that case I could sell the Camaro, completely doing away with car insurance and gas.
Having never taken a car off the road before, I called my insurance company to see what I had to do. They temporarily put my plans on hold when they said there was a green card the DMV gave you when you turn in your plates, and I had to get that card before they would take it off the road.
Like I said, it was only a temporary hold. I sent an email out to a handful of coworkers, asking if any of them lived near me and could do me a favor. A half hour later, I got a reply from a former mailroom coworker named Chris Bell. It turned out he lived only five blocks away. I wrote back and asked him:
Could you run my license plates down to DMV? I need some green slip from them so I can cancel my car insurance.
His reply came back quickly:
Well, I don’t get out until five today. DMV is open until 6pm on Thursdays though. I could run it down then, if that would be okay. How come you can’t make it there yourself?
Thursday was the next day, so I needed to create a convenient little white lie to cover my ass:
Thursday is fine. I got the flu. Feel dizzy even when I stand up. Don’t want to risk driving anywhere.
He wrote back and told me that would be okay, and he would be over on Thursday around 5:30. Once I had that all set up with Chris, I called the insurance company back to get their fax number. Aside from a computer, a fax machine had also come with my work-from-home supplies. In other words, I wouldn’t need to ask Chris the favor of running the card over to them.
Then I lay back down on the couch. Just as I got comfortable, a flash of pain exploded in my right eye. It hurt to even try opening it. At first I had no idea what happened. Then a glance downward gave me the answer: my cock, which had been pointed up at my face, had decided it was time to expand. In other words, I got hit in the eye by my own boner.
A lot of guys I know would have been happy as hell about this development. Most men would say, “Let me tell you: if I could get my dick up to my own mouth, I’d never leave the house!” And here I was, accidentally dropped into a situation nine out of ten males would kill for, and I couldn’t care less. (Isn’t that ironic?) How could I think about oral sex with the excruciating pain that radiated from my right eye?
I stumbled out to the kitchen to get an ice pack. For the next ten minutes, I paced my apartment with my eye throbbing, ice pressed firmly against it, and my cock bouncing out in front of me like a divining rod. Eventually I went into the bathroom to check out my eye. I recoiled from the mirror in horror when I saw there was no white left; it was completely blood-red. How fabulous! Well, I just hoped Chris didn’t notice when he came by to get the plates. Otherwise I’d need to come up with a very creative lie.
Speaking of things I’d have to cover up, what was I going to do about my yardstick dick? The only solution I had was hide it under my clothes and hope to God it didn’t stiffen up when Chris was there.
Luckily he wouldn’t be in my apartment for too long. All he had to do was get a screwdriver so he could take my plates off, and then he would bring back the green slip from DMV. Each part of his visit should take no more than two minutes, right? Shouldn’t run into any problems there.
Or so I thought.
If you like what you have read and would like to purchase this serialized novel as one complete PDF, then please send $3.50 to Steve via PayPal: firstname.lastname@example.org
Also, don’t forget to check out his other writing at the following links below:
Author: Redemption Comics
Steve Grogan was born in the often-filmed city of Troy, NY. He has written in a variety of formats (novels, short stories, poems, screen and stage plays, blogs/articles) and genres (horror, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, drama).
Steve is also a father, a boyfriend, a musician, a fitness fanatic, and a martial artist. He has been studying Wing Chun Kung Fu since 1995, and he maintains a blog/YouTube channel that describe his training habits, epiphanies, and advancement. It also candidly discusses his stumbling blocks, such as his struggle with nutrition and mental health issues.
He is no relation to the New England Patriots quarterback from the 1980’s.