no-fi "magazine" presents
THE DETERMINATION
a short story by Garrett Faber ~ illustrations by Chris Beyond
People seem to confuse my determination for obsession.
I'm not obsessed.
Really, come on, I mean, why do people use such harsh words like "psycho" and "loser" and "clinically depressed," the ever popular "stalker." Good God! Stalkers are the inventions of the media for celebrities who haven't done anything newsworthy in a while! Billy Bob Thornton hasn't been making too much of a splash lately, let's tell everyone that he has a stalker!
This is a love story.
A love story about how I fell in love with an angelic beauty named Monica. She's got eyes like honeycombs; not actual honeycombs, but the cereal Honeycombs. Damn, I could really go for some Honeycombs right now. Listen, after this love story, we're going down to the PigglyWiggly to handle this situation.
I met her in passing. It could of been at church, but I think I would of remembered better. No, actually that was someone else at church; someone I cannot remember because my heart, soul and brain belong to Monica.
She knocked me off my feet with the way she would casually walk past me 
without acknowledging my existence. It's really sexy how she says "Eleven Fortythree" after I'll act like I'm not wearing a watch and then ask her what time it is.
I inserted a mini camera into her dogs collar. The bites and scratches were well worth all the damn trouble. Now I know what she feeds her dog. Porkchops. Yes, porkchops. Apparently she doesn't spend too much time with her dog because I haven't actually seen her on camera yet. It's okay! I'm recording all the footage onto both VHS and DVD-R! Best to be prepared, I always say.
For weeks I would spend precious time with her, watching her with my telescope. I invented a special vest that has a huge telescope protruding out of it. I just tell everyone it's a pacemaker for haemophiliacs. With this telescopic chest invention I can watch her from down the street as long as there are no cars or trees or buildings or clothes in my way. Stupid stuff, really.
Every Tuesday she takes out her trash and every Tuesday I intercept it from her street corner. I have so many taco bell wrappers that I could make a goddamn parachute out of `em. I don't really like Taco Bell, but I can make a sacrifice for her, ya know? All relationships have to have compromise and sacrifice. Oh yeah.
Our seven and a half week anniversary rolls by and we ended up at the Broken Bar together. She was with her normal gang of stupid friends. Of course she was the hottest out of all the other people there. As a matter of fact, there were no people there. It was just her and me. No one else matters.
The whole night she was giving me eye contact and pointing and whispering to her friends. My heart was pounding so hard because I knew we were finally gonna have our first kiss. She approached me with a seductive, fast strut, her friends in tow. She started speaking to me but I was so hypnotized by being that close too her that I couldn't understand a word she was saying.
She must of noticed that I was in a daze because she took to yelling. She must have really wanted to confess her love to me. God, I've waited so long for this moment. Physical contact! She's got her hands on my shirt, holding me, about to pull me in. I guess she's a little drunk because she's shaking me and I'm trying to hold her up to stop her from falling and its working. And yet I'm still shaking for some reason.
Now her friends are jealous of us because they're trying to pull us away from each other. Fuck that. I push `em away, So fucking obnoxious! I don't really see it happening, but Monica kisses me. She kisses me so hard that my lip has busted open against my teeth. She kisses me again on the cheek. Her kisses are landing so hard on me. She must really be an animal in bed!
My head is aching and I'm knocked off my feet, landing on the cold, hard, sticky floor. Monica tries to help me up but maybe the floor's too sticky because her feet keep stepping on me and kicking me. She's really drunk. I should get her home after I seek medical attention.
I black out and wake up outside the Broken Bar. I'm completely beat to hell. I look over and see Monica and some douchebag making out. He comes over to me and says something and I just stare at him. I should really start paying attention to what the fuck people are saying. Oh well. I've gotta get going if I'm gonna make sure Monica gets home all right.
Love hurts, but I'm determined to make things work out between me and her. I'm determined to get this girl. I've felt her kiss on my lips and I knew she was the one. I'm determined to make her my wife and we'll have 2 kids; one boy and one girl. Determination is key.
People seem to confuse my determination for obsession.
Garrett Faber is a staffwriter for No-Fi "Magazine"
and swears that parents' daughters really are safe around him.
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