#originally I was going to have heather as the third one instead of vinnie

[mxliv-oftheendless]

The Bridge of the Demonic Goatman (Part 1)

I thought of this a while back (specifically in the form of a hilarious mental image), and decided, “What the hell? I’m gonna write this.” It’s basically me combining two things I’m currently trash for (KISS and Buzzfeed Unsolved) into an AU, where my target audience is... well, me. On a side note, if you haven’t watched Buzzfeed Unsolved, I would definitely recommend it! It’s a great show, and they do episodes on true crime as well as supernatural cases. Here’s the link to the original episode if you want to watch it. Hope you enjoy!

Due to the sheer length of this story (it’s twenty fucking pages in the Word document), I’m going to have to post this in two parts. This is Part 1. Part 2 will go up tomorrow because it’s 11:30 PM rn and I’m too fucking tired to deal with this crap anymore.

Basic AU summary: It’s Buzzfeed Unsolved, but hosted by Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, and Vinnie Vincent. Gene is the believer of the supernatural, Paul is the skeptic, and Vinnie is the neutral third party (although he does like to join Paul in messing with Gene when they’re on a ghost hunt). 

Commentary text: 

Paul

Gene

Vinnie (apparently Tumblr doesn’t offer yellow as a color)

Something said in unison (who says it will also be in parentheses)

----

[cold open: camera is in the backseat of a car between the driver and passenger seats, looking through the windshield at the twilight sky. GENE is driving while PAUL is in the passenger seat. Soft haunting piano music plays over the footage]

PAUL: Almost there, Gene… you nervous?

GENE: I’ll probably be more nervous when we get there. How about you?

PAUL: [gestures out at the sunset] How can I be nervous with a sunset like that?

VINNIE: Ah, but remember, Paul. [camera cuts to VINNIE, who is sitting in the backseat] Eventually, the sun will be gone from the sky, leaving us in the foreboding dark of night. Then you’ll be nervous.

PAUL: [turns to look at Vinnie] How poetic.

VINNIE: Thank you.

PAUL: What about you, are you nervous?

VINNIE: Uh… [shrugs] kinda. I mean, we’re potentially going to see a demon.

PAUL: Potentially.

GENE: Don’t worry, Vin. I’ll protect ya.

VINNIE: You say that now, and yet if we actually see it, you’ll probably be cowering behind me and reciting the Lord’s Prayer.

GENE: How can I do that when you’re such a midget?

[Paul laughs. Vinnie leans forward and smacks Gene’s arm.]

[Smash cut: it is now nighttime. Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now walking through a forest, the only light being from the flashlights coming from the night-vision cameras they are holding. Camera focuses on an old-looking wooden bridge with newer-looking red metal ledges. Gene shines his flashlight on a nearby sign that has text and the Texas state government symbol. The title reads OLD ALTON BRIDGE.]

GENE: Well, here it is. The bridge.

[Cut: Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now standing at the foot of the bridge.]

GENE: Ready?

PAUL: Yep.

VINNIE: Yep.

GENE: … Paul, you go first.

PAUL: [scoffs at Gene and steps up onto the bridge] Okay.

VINNIE: [steps up onto the bridge and turns to Gene expectantly] C’mon, Gene.

GENE: [sighs then mumbles] God dammit… [slowly steps up onto the bridge]

VINNIE: [grinning at him] See, that wasn’t so hard.

GENE: Shut up, Vinnie.

[camera follows the three as they walk across the bridge, swinging their camera flashlights around. It is so dark that the only parts we can see of the bridge are what shows up in the beams of the flashlights; the rest can only be vaguely made out. Haunting music continues]

PAUL: I’ll be honest, I was kind of expecting something more… I dunno, intimidating, I guess? But no, this seems like a pretty standard bridge. [jumps up and down on it] Sturdy, too.

VINNIE: It’s a little scary, I guess. Though, the fact that we’re here when it’s nighttime probably has a factor in that. In the day time, this probably wouldn’t be scary at all.

[they reach the middle of the bridge]

GENE: Well, now that we’re on the bridge, I guess I should tell you why this bridge is so notorious.

[Vinnie nods]

PAUL: Okay. Enlighten us, Gene.

[haunting music stops. Gene stares at Paul, who looks calmly back at him]

GENE: Can you even look a little bit worried? Or just… you know what, never mind.

[Intro sequence, then title card]

[Gene, Paul, and Vinnie are now sitting on the foot of the bridge. From left to right: Gene, Vinnie, Paul]

VINNIE: This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we investigate Old Alton Bridge, aka the Goatman’s Bridge, as part of our ongoing investigation into the question, “Are ghosts real?”

GENE: [nods at the camera]

PAUL: [shakes his head at the camera]

VINNIE: [shrugs at the camera] Well, we may find out tonight. Gene?

GENE: Although that is our overall question, this bridge and the woods surrounding it are said to harbor something much more sinister than ghosts.

PAUL: [sounding maybe too light given the context] Demons!

GENE: [rolls his eyes but nods] Yeah, demons. As we’ve stated before, I will only consent to one demon episode per season, and this is that episode.

PAUL: You look pretty nervous. [looks to the camera and points at Gene] I dunno if you guys can tell, but Gene is looking pretty nervous right now. He’s just good enough of an actor that only Vinnie and I can tell.

VINNIE: I think we’re all a little nervous, to be fair. Just sitting on the foot of the bridge is making me feel slightly nervous. [pause in which he looks over at Gene and laughs] You’ve got kind of a glazed look, Genie.

GENE: I just—okay, I am getting kind of nervous. Let’s just get this over with.

PAUL: All right. Let’s get to the background stuff so we can dive right into the summoning part and see if any of us get possessed and/or murdered.

[Gene and Vinnie stare at him]

GENE: … Please don’t put it like that, Paul.

[Paul laughs]

[screen cuts away from the three to a black background with the shape of the state of Texas in white. Text and images appear on screen as Gene’s voice narrates]

GENE [voiceover]: In 1884, Old Alton Bridge was built in Denton, Texas, to connect the town of Alton to Denton. Alton was an extremely small town that consisted of only one person when it was established in 1848.

Wait, there was only one person in the entire town?

Yep.

Seriously? One person? And that was enough for it to be a town?

Yeah. One person.

*wheeze* Ha ha, that’s great.

Also, isn’t Denton the town from Rocky Horror Picture Show? The one Brad and Janet are from?

Oh yeah, it is! Oh my God, what if we did the Time Warp on the bridge?

Oh hell yeah, let’s do that!

*sigh* Dammit.

(Paul and Vinnie) Janet!

It was chosen as the legal center of Denton County. After the county seat was moved to Denton, residents of Alton moved to other towns, and Alton eventually disappeared. Today, the bridge is no longer permitted for vehicle use. But lucky for us, the bridge is available for pedestrian crossing.

*snorts* “Lucky for us”… the sarcasm.

You’re a master of sarcasm, Genie. 

--

[Paul, Gene, and Vinnie are standing by the parked car. The trunk is open, and Gene is rummaging through the contents of the trunk while Paul and Vinnie watch]

PAUL: I swear I’m not trying to scare you, Gene, but… I genuinely am getting a bad feeling about this place.

GENE: I am not listening to you, Paul.

PAUL: No, I’m actually serious this time! Vinnie, you can tell I’m serious, right?

VINNIE: I mean, I am getting kind of a bad feeling as well…

GENE: Don’t worry, guys. [straightens up] I came prepared tonight. [starts to unbuckle his belt]

VINNIE: I’m flattered, Genie, but I thought we were hunting down a demon. Plus, Paulie’s with us. And what would Shannon think?

GENE: [stops and stares at him in confusion] What would she think about… [he slowly realizes what Vinnie means] No! Not like that, Vinnie!

[Paul laughs. Vinnie smirks at Gene]  

GENE: Both of you shut up, that’s not what I meant at all! I mean I brought protection!

VINNIE: [grinning] Oh, well at least we won’t have to worry about that. I still think the setting is rather inappropriate, though.

[Paul continues to laugh]

GENE: I mean—I didn’t—shut the fuck up! This is what I’m talking about!

[Gene holds up a leather holster. In the holster is a squirt gun made of blue plastic]

PAUL: [stares at it, then bursts out laughing again] What the hell, Gene?

VINNIE: [trying not to laugh] Gene… why do you have a squirt gun?

GENE: [talking as he attaches the holster to his belt] It’s filled with holy water. I thought of it yesterday. It started out as a joke, but then I thought about it, and it’s actually a pretty good idea.

PAUL: [still laughing] You’re going to protect yourself against a dangerous demon… with a squirt gun filled with holy water?

GENE: Laugh all you want, Paul, but at least I’ll be safe from any demon that tries to sneak up on us. Just think, our backs will be turned, the demon’s sneaking up on us… [acts out this scene] I’ll just go, “Hey, guys, look at these bushes—[whirls around and whips out his squirt gun] freeze, demon!”

VINNIE: Smart.

GENE: I know, right?

--

GENE [voiceover]: Obviously, we didn’t travel all the way down to Texas to observe just a plain old bridge. What brings us to Old Alton Bridge is the meaning of its nickname, “the Goatman’s Bridge.” There are many legends of bridges acting as gateways to another realm, and perhaps this bridge is one of those gateways. Old Alton Bridge and the surrounding woods are said to harbor a dark entity: a demon, that is half-goat and half-man. The Goatman is said to have, quote, “glowing empty eyes” and goat-like horns. The reason for this entity’s existence is unknown, but has many iterations. One common story is that Satanists have carried out rituals on the bridge, that opened the door for this demon and perhaps many others.

There are actually records of people practicing rituals in the forest and on the bridge.

Really?

Yeah.

Oh, so your kind of people.

My kind of—how am I a Satanist?

Because you believe in all the crap they believe in.

Yeah but—I don’t go around performing rituals to summon demons. I respect it, and stay away from it. That’s completely different.

Okay, you’re right about that. That’s fair.

You also go to the synagogue.

*snorts* Yeah, I also go to the synagogue.

GENE [voiceover]: Another popular story is that a successful African American goat farmer was lynched and hanged on the bridge by Klansmen, returning from the dead as the Goatman.

Fuckin’ assholes…

Do we know why they lynched him?

Yeah, because he was African American and he was doing better than them. That’s it. That’s why.

… Okay, fair enough.

Yeah, that’s fair.

GENE [voiceover]: If this story is true, then it would explain why the Goatman looks as it does, since once again, the African American was a goat farmer. However, there are no records of an African American goat farmer living or even existing in that area anywhere in the 1930s or in prior decades. Furthermore, if this story is true, then the Goatman would simply be the ghost of the goat farmer, instead of a demon like the Goatman has been claimed to be. Additionally, demons are preternatural beings, and therefore not human.

So you don’t think the Goatman’s the goat farmer.

Uh, no, I don’t. See, the thing is, if it was just the ghost of the goat farmer, then the Goatman would be just…

A man.

Yeah, just a man. There really wouldn’t be any reason for him to become some version of a Minotaur.

Yeah, that makes sense.

However, the fact that it’s half man and half goat makes it more likely that it’s a demon.

Plus, aren’t there medieval drawings showing Satan with goat legs?

Yeah, that too.

I just have to object to one thing you said. You said it was some version of a Minotaur.

And?

And that is a false statement. A Minotaur is half-man-half-BULL.

Oh—Oh, well excuse me—

Then it would be the BULLman.

—Mr. Greek Mythology Expert.

Paul, you don’t even think the GOATman is real, why are you so stuck on details?

I’m just trying to make sure everything that’s said is accurate.

You wouldn’t think it was real even if it WAS the Bullman.

That’s true. I wouldn’t think it’s the Bullman. I’d think it’s BullSHIT.

*laughter*

GENE [voiceover]: But tonight, our goal is not to find out why this demon exists. Tonight, our goal is to make contact and try to catch footage of this elusive and dangerous demon, as proof that it is real. We can only hope that this evidence does not come at a great cost…

--

[cut to Paul, Vinnie, and Gene walking on the bridge]

PAUL: Are there any demons here with us? Perhaps a demon formerly known as the Goatman?

VINNIE: Prince reference?

PAUL: Yeah, thanks for noticing.

GENE: Let your presence be known… say something… make a noise…

PAUL: Throw us off the bridge…

GENE: Shut up, Paul. [speaks aloud] Why are you on this bridge?

[silence]

GENE: One of you ask it something.

PAUL: Why are you on this bridge?

[Gene rolls his eyes at Paul while Vinnie snickers]

PAUL: [in a dramatic voice] Goatman! [still silence] Nothing’s happening.

VINNIE: Well, obviously.

PAUL: What if we try yelling at it?

GENE: What?

PAUL: I mean, what if we try and agitate it? To try and bring it out?

VINNIE: Like, egg it into showing itself?

PAUL: Yeah!

VINNIE: Yeah, that could work! Can I do it with you?

PAUL: Yeah, let’s do it. Gene—

GENE: I’m just gonna… gonna let you guys do it. I don’t wanna be part of what you guys are doing.

PAUL: Okay.

VINNIE: Yeah, you stay out of it, that way if anything happens to us you can call our families.

PAUL: You want to go first?

VINNIE: No, you go first.

PAUL: Okay… [a few beats of pause] Fuck you, Goatman!

GENE: Oh my God—

VINNIE: Oh, we’re just gonna go all-out? Okay, let me try. [shouts] Hey! Hey, Goatman! You’re no good, Goatman!

PAUL: You’ll never be shit!

VINNIE: You’re just like your father!

GENE: Oh for fuck’s sake—

PAUL: Goatman! [starts dancing in place] See that? I’m dancing on your bridge!

GENE: Paul!

VINNIE: [also starts dancing] We’re dancing on your bridge because we don’t believe in you! Fuck you, Goatman!

PAUL: This is our bridge now! We claim this bridge for ourselves!

GENE: Jesus Christ, we’re gonna die—

VINNIE: You want us off this bridge? You’re gonna have to kill us! Whatcha gonna do, throw us off the bridge?

GENE: He did throw someone off the bridge once.

PAUL: Nah, he’s not gonna throw us off the bridge, y’know why? [shouts] ‘Cause he’s a CHICKEN! [starts clucking like a chicken]

GENE: I swear to God, both of you…

VINNIE: Paulie, c’mere. [they start doing a tango] See that, Goatman? We’re dancing on your bridge!

PAUL: We disrespect your bridge, Goatman!

GENE: Oh, for Christ’s sake—he’s taking names right now, you two.

PAUL: You ain’t shit, Goatman! We own your bridge now!

VINNIE: You hear that, Goatman?

PAUL: Me, Vinnie Vincent, and Gene Simmons own your bridge!

GENE: Paul, don’t you dare loop me into your shit. Stop it.

PAUL: Well, tell him you’re not part of it!

GENE: [speaks aloud] I’m not part of this! Okay? They’re just being assholes.

PAUL: You’re talking to Goatman now. [Paul and Vinnie grin at him]

GENE: … You son of a bitch—

VINNIE: Goatman entrapment, Genie, you’ve been caught. [high-fives Paul] Goatman!

GENE: Guys, stop it.

PAUL: This is our bridge now, Goatman! [Paul and Vinnie continue dancing and jumping up and down on the bridge]

GENE: I swear to God, you two—

VINNIE: They’re gonna write OUR names in graffiti!

GENE: If something appears and kills you, I’m not giving your eulogies.

PAUL: People will come here and tell tales of US!

PAUL and VINNIE: What do ya say to that, Goatman?

[silence]

GENE: I hate you both.

--

GENE [voiceover]: People have reported a growling voice telling them to “get off the bridge.” One person said that after he and his friend heard the voice, he ran off the bridge while his friend stayed. He then watched as his friend was seemingly dragged off the bridge and thrown into the river below. People have also heard hooves following them across the bridge, as if they were being chased off. It’s often said that the Goatman can be conjured by knocking three times on the bridge.

--

[on the bridge, Gene goes up to one side of the bridge and hesitantly raises a fist]

GENE: All right. I’m gonna… knock three times on the bridge… and we’ll see what happens.

PAUL: What if the Goatman bites your hand off?

GENE: Paul—

PAUL: And then he stuffs it in your mouth and makes you eat it?

[Gene and Vinnie stare at him]

VINNIE: … What the fuck, Paul?

PAUL: What? He might do that. He’s a demon.

GENE: Fuck you, Paul. You’re making this worse.

PAUL: Fine, sorry.

GENE: [turns back to the side of the bridge] Okay… here we go…

[Gene knocks on the side of the bridge three times. They all stand back]

GENE: Now it’s said that when you do that, you can see his glowing eyes. [glances around]

PAUL: [laughing] What a load of horseshit…

VINNIE: Quiet, Paul.

[silence. Nothing happens]

GENE: Well, I’m not doing it again. Either of you want to?

VINNIE: [shrugs] I’ll do it. [goes up to the side and knocks three times. Steps back.]

[silence again. Nothing happens]

VINNIE: All right, Paul, now you do it.

[Paul goes up to the side and raises his fist. Then he stops and looks around in a theatrical way]

GENE: For fuck’s sake, Paul, just do it!

PAUL: [shrugs] Hey, Goatman! [knocks three times]

[silence again. All three look around. The camera passes over parts of the bridge]

PAUL: You know, if you want me off this bridge, you’re gonna have to throw me off.

[still silence. Nothing happens. There is a long stretch in which none of them move or speak]

GENE: Okay, we’re done with that. Let’s go into the woods.

VINNIE: We’re going into the woods?

GENE: Yep. Let’s go.

[they all turn and start to walk off the bridge. Paul turns around and looks out into the darkness]

PAUL: We’ll be back, Goatman. After all, this is our bridge now.

VINNIE: Yeah, remember that, Goatman.

GENE: Would you both shut up?

PAUL: That’s how you get them to come out, Gene.

GENE: That’s not how you get them to come out, that’s how you get them to kill you.

PAUL: Assuming you don’t kill me first, right?

GENE: Exactly.

To be continued in Part 2!

[aaknopf]

The poet Quan Barry is also a fiction writer, whose mischievous We Ride Upon Sticks has just been published. In the fall of 1989, the seniors on the losing Danvers Falcons field hockey team avail themselves of some locally-sourced Salem witchery, in the hope of concocting a winning season. They make a pact, signing their names in a spiral notebook with Emilio Estevez on the cover, and rip and tie strips of Falcons-blue tube sock around all their arms, sealing their dark bond. In the scene below (which includes a special guest appearance by the poet Philip Larkin), the team mingles with members of the football team at their favorite pizza joint. We meet one of the more mysterious players, Girl Cory, so-called because there’s also a Boy Cory on the squad; Boy Cory’s story, like that of Girl Cory, their teammates Jen Fiorenza (whose awesome, high-teased bangs are known to all as “the Claw”), Abby Putnam (ancestor of an original Salem accuser), and others in the mix here, is a journey of identity, community, and the magic of high school friendships.

from We Ride Upon Sticks

“Our butts are going to States this year,” said Jen. “Where are your butts going?” Just then Girl Cory walked in. For a moment the air in Rocco’s filled with the scent of aquamarine waters and palm trees, the harmonies of steel drums, then just as quickly it was back to cheese pizza and the crackling of the deep fryer. “ ’Sup?” Log called out. Most guys at Danvers High didn’t talk to Girl Cory. From what we could glean of teen-boy-dom it seemed most teen boys only have a finite amount of confidence, and they couldn’t afford to go blowing it willy-nilly on a hopeless case like Girl Cory. It was plain to see she was out of everyone’s league. Most people accepted this. It was pure science, like the apple falling from the tree. Girls like Girl Cory didn’t date regular human boys. Historically, since the invention of written records in the girls’ third-floor bathroom concerning who was banging whom, Girl Cory had never dated anyone at Danvers High. Mostly she left in her wake a trail of names from the local private-school universe, places like the Prep, Pingree, even some faraway boy at Deerfield. Log’s “ ’Sup?” was still hanging in the air. Only he among his brethren had confidence to burn. Little did he know but “ ’Sup?” was an excellent question, one we’d been secretly wondering all our lives. Yeah, Girl Cory, what’s up? As she stood at the counter, Girl Cory nodded at Log but didn’t say a word or even take off her Ray-Bans. “And what does your soon-to-be captain have to say about you hosers going to States?” whispered Brian Robinson in a small voice, only looking at Girl Cory indirectly via a shiny plaque mounted on the wall, as if she were a Medusa with the power to transform flesh to stone. “Which is it?” he said. “You guys going to States, or 2-8 again?” “For your information, we haven’t voted for captain yet,” said Jen. Her Claw gave him the stink eye. Rocco’s adult son Vinny slammed her order down on the counter. Ceremoniously, she rose to retrieve her Diet Coke and two slices of Hawaiian. She noticed Log Winters was still staring at Girl Cory. “Take a picture, my friend,” she said, bending over and whispering in Log’s ear. “It’ll last longer.” Then she raised her voice so that all of Rocco’s could partake in the annunciation. “Besides, Cory already has a boyfriend.” “Who’s that?” said Log. “Nobody you’d know,” Jen projected. “He sent her flowers today. Isn’t that right, Cory?” Girl Cory turned and flashed Jen a look that simultaneously said both shut up and keep talking. She was an enigma like that. Honestly, none of us really knew her. Even now that we were all part of the sisterhood of the blue sweat sock, it was like she had constructed a wall to keep us out, a sunroom off the kitchen where she could sit and drink her Earl Grey in peace while the rest of us crowded around a plate of stale bagels in the breakfast nook. Girl Cory pulled a wad of napkins from the dispenser and went over to where Little Smitty was sitting with Mel. What’s up, Girl Cory? All season long, the rest of us standing around wondering, Girl Cory. What. Is. Up? And then one day we’d take a big juicy bite of the apple from the Tree of Knowledge, and to our everlasting sorrow, we’d find out. “Philip” made his first appearance during the ’88 season shortly after Girl Cory passed her driver’s test. It was late October, one of those autumn days when the afternoon sky prematurely takes on a hazy shade of winter. We were just off the school bus after returning from a massacre in Gloucester, 4-0. Truthfully, the score didn’t accurately reflect the gutting we’d endured at the hands of the Gloucester Fishermen. The two senior co-captains, Gina Packer and Mary Ellen Sommers, had gotten into a fight during the coin toss over whether to pick heads or tails. At one point, Gina reached over and ran her finger through the blue face paint where Mary Ellen had spackled the letters DHS on her cheek. We winced. It was like watching someone ruin a beautifully frosted cake. When we finally arrived back at Danvers High, Julie Kaling stopped reciting that part of the Nicene Creed about God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, her crucifix glinting in the dark of the bus. To be honest, after the kind of outing it had been, some of us found her religious yammering weirdly comforting. We’d grabbed our stuff from the locker room and headed out to wait for our moms to come get us or to bum rides with the seniors who lived in our neighborhoods. Girl Cory had hit the two-fecta, having recently passed her driver’s test and been given her own wheels to boot. Her brand-new white Fiero was parked in the student lot. The Fiero had been purchased weeks before her driving test and was just sitting around in her multi-car garage collecting dust. Driving was still a novelty to her, the monogrammed fingerless gloves still fun to slip on. That day she was giving Abby Putnam a ride home. It was Abby who pointed out the mint-green envelope stuck under the windshield wipers. Girl Cory peeled the envelope off the wet glass and held it between her fingers like a dead roach. “This is a wicked bummer,” she said. “Can you get ticketed here?” Abby shook her head. She watched as her friend tore open the soggy envelope. Girl Cory’s face betrayed nothing. If anything, she looked a little more bloodless. “Lemme see,” said Abby. She took the slip of paper in her hands and stared for a long time at the blurred writing, the washed-out words as if painted in watercolor. Roses are Red— Your Fiero—it’s White— With seating for two. Don’t! Put up a fight—take me with you! The next day before practice we showed the letter around. Heather Houston performed a close reading on it worthy of a 5 on the AP English test. She commented on the juvenile use of the Dickinsonian em dash, the strange imperatives, the elisions, the contradictory tone of both fight and flight. “Whoever wrote this is not playing with a full deck,” she concluded, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t even make sense. Like this part. ‘Don’t!’ Don’t what? Use your words, people!” She was practically spitting she was so worked up about it. Poor Heather Houston took weak syntactical choices as a personal affront. Julie Kaling patted her comfortingly on the back. “I dunno, I think it’s sweet,” said Little Smitty softly. This was back in the days before Emilio and the blue tube sock, back when Little Smitty ate all the spinach on her plate happily with a big smile as though it were cotton candy. “What I will say,” said Heather, offering a second conclusion about the note, “is Philip Larkin he is not.” Becca Bjelica looked at AJ Johnson and silently mouthed, Philip who? We were all thinking the same thing. Nobody rolled their eyes at her. How were we supposed to know some curmudgeonly British poet, even one who’d written: They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They may not mean to, but they do. They fill you with the faults they had And add some extra, just for you. And thus “Philip” was born. That first year “Philip” mostly left little things lying around in plain sight, like a cat who brings its owner dead robins. A tube of Chanel lipstick without the actual lipstick in it. A box of chocolates, but instead of sweets slotted in each compartment, there were rocks. Girl Cory took it all in stride. We didn’t tell anyone in the adult world because what was there to say? Some poor slob had the hots for a girl so beautiful she should have been in a music video, and he left her crazy presents? Back then the word “stalker” wasn’t really part of anyone’s vocabulary. Fatal Attraction had come out the year before, but that was just stuff that happened to sexy creeps like Michael Douglas, who banged complete strangers and mostly had it coming. And so Girl Cory learned to live with it. And so we learned to live vicariously through her. In time, we began to look forward to “Philip’s” offerings. They made us feel like maybe somewhere down the road, somebody, anybody, might possibly want us. Even the time he dropped a note in her schoolbag that said, “I hate you, you stupid peckerhead,” and signed it “Much l♥ve.” We were a bunch of mostly inexperienced teen girls. We thought that’s what true romance was supposed to look like. A boy telling a girl she was a stupid peckerhead, but she was his stupid peckerhead. Lord, make us worthy, we prayed. God from God, Light from Light, Boyfriend from Boy Who Considers Us a Peckerhead. It seemed like the thing to ask for. None of us ever thought to pray for a better caliber of boy.

More on this book and author:

Learn more about We Ride Upon Sticks by Quan Barry

Browse other books by Quan Barry including her four poetry collections published in the Pitt Poetry Series

Read the full text of Philip Larkin's "This Be the Verse" at the Poetry Foundation

Peruse other poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series 

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.