Trantic: How words are defined by the titles of stories they tell

Sex and a Suicide; May I define Trantic?

While the storms enveloped the region during the annual cycle of the atmospheres shuffling about the pressure differences that give rise to our weather. Dan Kult looked hesitantly out his vehicles window. The contrasting hues against the largely vacant, cattle heavy land weighed on his mind in what will amount to be a gift in understanding.

He was struck by the vastness of the planet, the entanglement of actions that give rise to our existence, and the simple ability that it is to elaborate; using tools to construct buildings that have done well in providing physical places for our emotions to dwell. Allowing the financial shortcomings of his life to direct his next course in travel, intermittent reciprocation of polar thoughts break through with his self derived foundation to this arena of free-will and thought. Those contrasting thoughts that contort one's mind, that are very likely the cause of suicide. A proposition sets into the man's mind. A clause to reconcile a means to an end. The intricate line of life to be established from the positive and negative sides that somehow are kept maintained, it truly is baffling that our existence still moves forward, and does not succumb to the disagreed point that is an agreement to die. Those thoughts make sense in his head yet the intuition seemed to be readily understood by others. He would aquire nonsense remarks that showed the mechanics of his alleged understanding in terms of the act that is taking one's own life. "Kick-starting myself that is all there is to it. That is what it was, I just pulled this tidbit of philosophy from the confines of my own mind, and used it as a swift kick in the ass". Dan's motivation takes the form of his actions. His right palm slams the key into his vehicles ignition. Riding on the emotion fueled takeover to his life he shifts into drive and resumes traveling to his destination. The vehicles speakers release of unnoticeable racket that is static takes its place against the beating droplets of accelerated water from the reservoir that is know as a cloud. Traveling airborne ponds that bring the life sustaining compound to a random location. The sinusoidal track of pavement enriched the drive, his decision to not use the highway systems straight stretch of board traffic weighed heavy upon the easy street logic of a constant. What is the number e. Driving on putting greens topology, that is the state Dan Kult finds his mind at ease. He begins to make a checklist, his write hand scribbles things to accomplish, as the vehicles heater dawns on his incoherence. He has been sustaining a bitter shiver that was so easily terminated with a knob and lever. "Full blast" he states aloud. The lever controlling the thermostat pinned all the way in the red he finds comfort in handling his own problems. His radio is tuned in to the area which breaks the static that becomes an understanding. A conversation from a local radio tower. "Turn tail and run" is followed by his own thoughts in agreement. "That's the dumb way, play opossum. You learn a lot more about reality like that." As the rain eases Dan turns down his windshield wipers and flips the heater vent to his feet. He ponders calling in to give his two cents to the show and the repercussions of what this line of action may have on his life forces him to simply listen. Yet his radio begins to catch multiple stations at once and he lets his mind postulate the concept of many wives. He has left Omega for Carthy and this has him quite convoluted as his mentality sets in the uneasy feeling of character defect 'what a piece of shit I am' he thinks to himself and drives head on into the Peterbilt truck at 114 mph. Omega could not believe the news report. Her car already smashed so well the vehicle crusher at at the scrap yard wouldn't even be needed. The tow man even told her himself and he would know these things. "He had to have been drunk or high probably both" that's what everyone said yet the drug screen came back with positive results he was negative. He was not the type of man one would think would die in an accident without any involvement of his own yet it was looking that way. The idea of suicide had not even crossed her mind until she thought of it herself, she loved him and could not envision life at these stakes now that he was gone. Her phone vibrates to a chill in her spine that gives her gut a sick twist and subconscious thought of reality sets in that something isn't right. Tom writes I know everything about you, vibrate is my ringtone. I set it for you, think of me owning you for I am your master and you will submit and love me. She watches the flashing of tail light flashers carry away her lovers true casket and wonders if tow truck Tom had killed her love. One thing was sure, he is a pysco.

"You are fucking crazy, the tow truck guy has nothing to do with Dan's death"

"Well he wrote this to me" Omega shows the text message to Lillian, her friend for over two years now and she believes she can trust her.

"He is just some horny guy that doesn't know what to do" "No it's weird okay, what would you do if this was happening to you"

" I would fuck him"

"You would fuck him?" Omega says rather unbelieving.

"Yes he just needs someone for a little bit and then he will move on. I would clean him out of everything he has"

"But he is a tow truck driver he doesn't have much and he will probably kill you"

"Girl with pussy this good he is not going to kill me please and that's not what it's about Omega okay? One thing is sure you have to date him and see what we are working with I'll get walkie talkies and..."

She is cut off by her friend with a backhand to the face.

"I am not doing this!"

"But come on we might catch a murder rapist I got your back. Promise." As Lillian spreads the word around about what's going down Omega cannot shake the feeling that something is not right. The Peterbilt driver would have to be a friend of the tow truck driver they would have to be working together. Yet with tow truck Tom's ability to change my ringtone remotely he could have rigged up my vehicle and was waiting for Dan to get in and drive it. He probably locked the doors on him and drove Dan all the way out here to do this when he was actually driving the Peterbilt. The accident did happen on a stretch of road where no one is at usually. The good old two lane highway of back road America. Her thoughts settle on the right thing to do. Omega walks into the diner a normal date except for the fact that Lillian was on a mission at tow truck Tom's house to uncover evidence.

"This guy is weird" Says Lillian to Megan. A closet full of sex toys stares down the duo. "I like it, I need a guy that will just screw me all day long." Megan stares deep and intimately into Lillian's eyes. Her blue hues put the sky to shame as Megan's hand finds the brass button and slips it through the slit in her jeans. Kissing Lillian passionately, Megan's fingers find Lillian's clit resulting in the agony of responsibility that is Omega on a date with a possible serial rapist and murderer. "What if something bad happens to her" "Look tow truck Tom wants to fuck her, he doesn't want to kill her, it's ok" Using one of the dildos from the closet Megan lightly taps Lillian's face. "Stop, I thought the same thing but seeing this worries me" She spits on the dildo. And proceeds to to undo her own bra as Megan chucks the spat on dildo back into the closet pile.

"Yeah fuck that piece of shit" Megan pushes Lillian onto the mountain of sex toys that litter the closet pulling Lillian's shirt up and over her head while moving into missionary position. "Straight up, like rock hard cock" Lillian's legs become erect and Megan starts at Lillian's feet. Pulling the jean pants from the fitted position of Lillian's ankle.

"Black floral?"

"Yes I wear a little bit of everything" her hips sway in consent as she slips her bottoms off, keeping them on at the ankles as does an inmate in shackles. She loops over Megan's head and catches the back of her neck similar to how a rock is put into a slingshot and fires a face to her pussy.

"Dinner is served" slipping her feet from her black floral underwear. She spreads out as Megan's tongue skips the clit and starts by entering from the bottom. With the agility of a dehydrated dog lapping water that settles into deep strong thrusts of the tongue. Lillian grips the back of Megan's head with fingers laced in hair that is similar to the way men get their dick sucked. "Eat that pussy you little whore" Megan secretly acquires another dildo from the pile. She moves up to the clit while sliding the toy into Lillian. Omega is found dead in a motel the following morning.

**********

The grass forced an hours bout of itching against the Summers heavy burden of humidity laced heat. The hat nor blocking cream did little use against the sun's rays. Probably scam it was it was carnie bought anyhow she thought to herself. Old mother's butters still sat waiting for me to churn it as the man around was burden not a help she told God in prayer. Stricken and forceful, all the more to turn his mood pale. Horsefly bites through the southern mosquitoes buzz, burden after burden. " I am Raquel Singapore" says the twenty-four year old farm maiden. The school council had shown up on Fair Day unexpectedly yet at least ready with lines of strict answers, memorized lies to get out of her jam, she was in luck she thought it may all happen quicker than expected. " Town carriage provided would you care for a trip to the institute for your review and testing, the week of next Monday? You may stay in the maiden quarters, the trifling waters sloshing about the quarry Stone Creek make for an easy sleep, and a meditative dream. It's a rather furnished lot. " Said principal Sherill Strant a person of character and let the rules bend to facilitate the common sense of the decent good; recipes was her addiction, heirlooms of previous generations as gifts to the children never met due to lives lived out through different areas of time. "Why yes, that should do quite well, will there be much downtime?" Asks Raquel. "Downtime..." Stated before thinking through a heavy pause with the humming hive buzz of the mosquitoes in their swarm holding tension in what is some unnoticed form. The bluntly stated continuation of "Dear that is a terrible question to ask, especially on an interview. It makes you look lazy. Nevertheless, yes what do you plan on doing with it?" "My scarfs and socks, newly stitched and patched up. Those that are salvageable at least, you happen to do the same principle?"

"Why heavens no, I take to my vegetable garden and hens. Plus the pig keeps me quite busy, well pigs counted the old brute known as Moose"

                               **********

The clock on the wall was wrong. Dan Kult noticed this right away upon arriving at the address. 'Play opossum and gain information' reminding himself of a hard earned truth. Worried he would slip and cause an awkward sense in his demeanor to grace his first impression at this new hosting to his life. He was well aware of the Peterbuilt crash and felt at ease with his faith in the fact that death does not exist. His mind didn't have the moral predicament he faced previously and in this new mental arena he found his state of mind at ease in comparison to where he previously was. "Brunch time Mr. Kult, do you like lobster, red wine, and fresh salad or...? "That'll be fine" says Dan. He is walking about the room looking at the art on the walls and decorative accents that were spread liberally throughout the dining room. 'This one is a bit crazy and senile' as he takes note to keep conservative, quiet, and respectful. This is not a bridge to burn. This is stability, peace of mind, and...

"Wahhhhhhhhhhhh"

His thoughts deterred, his amiability becoming subjected to fired rounds from the opposition. A child starts to cry. "Toddlers!" He exclaims in anguish as if he were coulrophobic and had seen a clown.

"How long do you think he'll be able to put up with the child? " Questions principal Strant. "Quite some time, he has the patience that supports the avoidance of conflict as in the turn the other cheek route..."

Letting the despair of her view rattle her brain on deciding whether or not to state the detractive adjective. She retains from giving birth to negativity.

A velvet comforter lays liberally about Dan's taste buds. The lobster tail was rich in its organic oils which become interwoven with lemon and rosemary tints accompanying the flavor of the shellfish as he began to swallow once thoroughly extracting the majority of the flavor in obnoxious chews and smacking lips that sucked the fatty liquids from there soaked in state of a twelve hour period to marinate. Not rich on her request at cracked pepper, the Italian-based constituents of the overnight bath brought his senses into a realm of neurotic pleasure that he never previously experienced. "What is your name?" He asks the farm maiden as she makes her way to the fireplace to grab the pot of boiling water. In need of a black tea her head was full of what-ifs due to the necessity of memorized lies and the unqualified disposition that currently have her employed at this institute; a secret that resided inside her head on the foundation of her mind only. "I've just been hired so please excuse my discomfort bestowed in learning the ropes" Questioning her Jerry Sailor linguistic metaphor. Yet Dan Kult let a smile slip through the enjoyment of intoxicating flavors of the crustacean before him.

"How far have you traveled from home?"

"Please Mister, I do not wish to discuss my home life with a man I just met and seems to find me for the easy night!" His attempt at small talk does not go well. The misunderstanding of the unintentional interpretation that is no fault of his own. He remembers his foundation and that is it. He lets that fault of hers become extinct. Saying nothing else to the woman for the remainder of this meal. He retires to his room after a stiff drink by the fireplace. It dawns on him he has been given no task, no job, no responsibility. This new place seemed ideal, yet something outside of his control had put him here. He wonders what he had done. Allowing the liquor to lay him down. Dan Kurt finds sleep shortly after tucking into bed.

The following morning porcelain shatters mother nature's alarm clock of Red Robin and Thatcher Finches to the Chipmunk banter and calls of native ducks that present a faithful ritual of instinct based tradition everywhere that he has ever known. These grounds carry traits, they carry character a form of sustained wholeness in the peaceful attire that was fitted as a groom's tuxedo that is allotted to the European Upper Classes and Royalty. I'll call this place TailorMade he thinks to himself.

As he strolls the grounds letting the farm maiden's misunderstanding collect its interest in cleaning up an undeserved mess. He strolls the grounds and notices a building that seems out of place as if a privately funded endeavor was going on under its roof and behind its doors. Knowledge had a style of curse that existed over the course of experiences that shaped who he was. He had ultimately figured that it was best to let things one is not involved in remain uninvolved for the simple fact that knowing information is dangerous, especially when involving oneself in situations that do not need your attention. It is asking to be held liable for something that the individual had no involvement in.