Title: Think About It

Prompt: Learn (22/50)

Humans don't think.

I've just realized this.

We run around and do chores and do homework, but do we ever really think about it? No. It's automatic and it's comforting, and I mean come on, do you really actually think about walking or the route you take to work? No.

It's when we think that we get into trouble.

It's when we think that we realize and question and wonder and find. It's when we think that the rather nice monotony is broken and it's only when we think that the monster appears in the closet. A terrifying product of our thoughts.

I'm not a thinker.

I'm a do-er.

Just not in the naughty sense.

I don't think about doing something, I do it. Simple as that. I talk when I want, laugh when I feel like it, and hell I'll fart how ever loudly I want when the urge to do so hits me, because I'm a Man and I can Do that.

There's only ever been one person that's made me think.

And I've got to say, I'm really not happy about it.

So I'm laying on my front in a large pile of snow in a way that's a lot more pathetic than I'd like to admit and the snow's probably gonna have me buried within the hour, but you know what? That's okay, because it's about 2 am and dead silent to the point where I can hear the snow as it hits the ground, it's one of those winter nights where nothing moves and everything's deserted and nobody will be able to see my little half buried head and dig me up. I'll be able to stop thinking.

What's wrong with thinking, boss?

Ponch laughs at the oof I make when he plops on top of me, the sky is a deep navy. I didn't know this until he forced my head up with the power of his jump.

And you know you've pretty much hit rock bottom when your dog is laughing at you.

"It detracts from my state of blissful ignorance."

But thinking lets you know things.

"Sometimes I just don't want to know."

Like now, I really didn't want to know that snow is not my drug of choice as I accidentally snort up a nose-full of it while trying to wipe my nose .

Ponch asks me what was wrong and why I was being all sad and I sigh, not really wanting to think about it anymore.

We went to the movies. That was it, a simple movie trip to see some musical that I actually rather liked but will never admit to. We don't really get to hang out much. She's off at a private college on scholarship and I'm at NYU attempting to major in secondary education. Not a lot of time to cross paths.

But she called and I answered and she said Kit, I wanna go to a movie, and I said OK, because I always do. My 'Why the hell not?' attitude took over and I went with a smile.

And do you have any idea how awkward it is to hang out with a best friend? I didn't. I was like what! What's up with this?! You talk and interact and there's no conveniently placed explosions which results in every word actually being heard.

It was weird, man.

I happen to like explosions, too.

We almost didn't know how to act. We make a great team. When we actually get put on a project now with our busy lives we know what the other will do in a fight and know how to help them. We know when to help the other and when to leave well enough alone so they can go have their temper tantrum in peace. We know what to do.

But we don't know what the other thinks of in relation to Skittles or Milk Duds.

And this is a serious problem when attending a movie.


"Alright, Kit. We've got four bucks left between us, that's enough for one box of candy. Which kind do you want?"

Ahhh, the diet of poor college students.

"I don't really care, so long as it's not cafeteria food, I'm happy."

"Kit. Pick. Now."

"Ummmm, how about Milk Duds?"

"I hate those. Pick again."

"Who hates Milk Duds? How about Skittles? You can't be human and hate those, it doesn't work. You'll melt into a little pile of Skittle-less goo."

"Skittles are fine."

She pays and we begin to run to the theater, hoping that just maybe they happened to start the show half an hour late.

"And Milk Duds are delicious."

I found out later from Dairine that she liked gummy bears best.


You see? Until then I hadn't really thought about anything. I was just like Oh, it's Nita, my best friend, the girl who I see once in a blue moon and is of no other consequence to me. But the Milk Duds got me thinking.

How much did I really know her?

I mean, I knew the basics, favorite dinner, color, shampoo, ect.

I knew as much about her as any guy would know about his friend.

And that bothered me. I don't know why, but I wanted to know her better. See what made her tick, what could make her laugh, why on earth she liked gummy bears better than Milk Duds. I felt like I'd missed out on something really good. And I had.


"What's my what? Kit, that's ridiculous."

"You heard me."

She sighed and brought her leg up to her face. She lit the back light on her cell phone to see in the dark theater.

"A five and a half, Kit. I wear a five and a half," she laughed, "Why are you suddenly so interested?"

"I don't know, really." And I didn't. I hadn't thought about it yet.

She gave me an odd look.

"You don't have some weird shoe fetish, do you? Cause if you did, I'd be forced to steal the popcorn back to punish you for such unnatural perversions."

I handed her back the popcorn, brushing off the bit that had fallen onto her scarf. "Nope, to be honest I prefer socks. Much softer."

"That makes me feel a little better."

"I was hoping it would."


Now that I was firmly equipped with the knowledge of her unusually tiny feet, we spent the entire trip home just talking. Talking about everything and anything and an odd combination of everything and anything that we decided to call Anvrything, which we agreed sounded like the name of a little hick town in western Kansas.

When you create a town, you know it's serious. Ponch decides this while simultaneously licking his nether regions clean on top of me.


"You know, life was so much nicer before you picked up sarcasm. Are you gonna listen to me or what?"

Carmela taught me.

"…Remind me to beat her later. But you know what I found out during our discussion of the little wheat filled town somewhere named Anvrything?"


"That she's shy." My voice is the loudest thing in the night and I can hear my shocked tones echoing around the block.

Nooo. There's that doggish sarcasm again, accompanied by the unmistakable smell of dog butt.

You know life's gotten bad when you can identify the smell of a dog butt easily.

"Yes! It's crazy isn't it?! She's usually really loud whenever I see her, but nope. I picked up on it with my special guy powers."

The one's that give you and your pop permission to fart on the couch?

"Yup, those." I answer smugly, secretly praying that Ponch can tell the difference between my scarf covered face and the afghan covered sofa.


"So…you're not usually loud and obnoxious with a slight hint bordering on violent?"

"No, Kit. I have to say you're the only guy I've ever beaten." She laughed and huddled up close to me as the wind blew harder, stirring up the snow on the ground.

The little old lady walking ahead of us on the crowded street started swearing and attempted to beat it with her cane.



I laughed at the face she made as the lady's cane came a bit too close for comfort. "…That makes me feel rather special, I'm not gonna lie."

"It should."

"To think, me, Kit Rodriguez, Nita's personal punching bag…"

I'd never felt so much pain in my life as when Nita hip bumped me into the path of the afore mentioned little old lady.



So what do you want my advice on?

I sigh as well as I can with my lungs being squished by an eighty pound mutt.

"I don't know."

Well, how can I give you advice if you don't—

"I don't know because I don't know what's going on! I've never acted like that with a friend, I've never though about a friend like that—

Ponch makes his little growly laugh again and readjusts himself on me.

Yup, I'm pretty sure you never asked Manuel for his shoe size.

And you know, I can't even respond I'm just that shocked that he got such a cheap shot at me. It takes me a quick pout before I can bring myself to go back to my dog for advice.

…Something in that sentence just doesn't sound right.

You want to be her mate, he responds and lays his head on his paws Which happen to be on my head and it's then I realize that it's a good thing that you can't get stoned using snow, because I just snorted half a ton when his weight pushed my head down.

"Pssh, yeah. I'm sure." My voice is muffled by fallen frozen water vapor and it's just occurred to me that the only action I'm getting tonight is with my dog's ass as he curls up on me once more.

Well, then what else do you think it could be?

His oof echo around this time as I shove him off and lay on my back. My jacket is soaked, my hole filled scarf is doing next to no good and I couldn't be happier.

This was exactly the question I've been waiting for.

Boss, are you okay? You've got that sorta insane grin again.

"I know exactly what it could be."

He perks up.


"I've even thought about it." Even I can hear the smugness in my voice as I add suspense.

He's sitting up on his haunches, tail wagging so hard with excitement that it's kicking up snow everywhere.

What is it?

I pause for dramatic effect.

The snow's falling harder than ever, I can barely see the houses across the street. The street lamps are lighting a tiny strip of the night, illuminating nothing but the white and you can't even see the empty pop cans that usually litter the streets the snow's fallen so fast. All the lights in the houses are out and I can see my dog's silhouette in front of me, his breath puffing like a train engine's as he waits for me to tell him what I know.

I grin.

What is it boss, why do you think about her like that.

"Isn't it obvious?" I can't believe even he didn't see it.

He leans in close and I find myself whispering like I'm twelve years old again and jealously guarding the name of a first crush.

What is it? Why?

"Because, don't you see? She's obviously an alien sent here by Sker'ret's dad to mess with my mind!"

I'm grinning, so ridiculously proud of myself that I can't help it. Ponch only stares.

I wonder why, slightly hurt that he didn't burst into enthusiastic agreement with me.


He doesn't say anything. He hauls his big dog self up off the ground, walks around behind me head and just stares, a little pile of snow accumulating on his head.

"Ponch?" I ask again, wondering why on earth he isn't agreeing with me.

He shakes his shaggy fur out, turns around, and sits on my head, preventing me from saying anymore on the topic.