Ohlone College
Creative Writing Stories

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Stanley took charge of alley cleanup, and found the seamy evidence of human encounters littering the alleyway 93% more abundant on weekends than weekdays. He also observed that 5% of the time he found either a KittyKat sex toy, or a human being passed-out among the trash. Numbed by his life experiences up to now, and completely driven by real and imagined percentages, he took respite from the world in doing this menial chore. Even on the worst days he found it more straightforward and less intimidating than other aspects of his life. The job temporarily stopped the constant percentages in his mind that seemed less in his favor lately. Stanley considered it a blessing that his oblivious immigrant father didn't understand what XXX-rated meant.

10% to 11% aware of Stanley growing too quickly, Viktor barely noticed that his son now physically towered over him. Stanley dimly recalled, around his 16 th birthday, that his feet and hands had grown grotesquely large for his seven-foot frame. He had become a slightly cross-eyed, and monstrously ungainly giant of a young man who would go unnoticed only in a horror film or comic book.

Over time, Stanley the Alley Janitor became Hairdresser for the KittyKat Klub's "Dance Revue" girls, and also their adopted mascot. They thought of Stanley as the kind-hearted freak show that lived upstairs and took care of his quasi-catatonic old man. The manager never stopped trying to get Stanley to star in his "Live Sex Show , " reasoning that the size of his penis, (because of his undiagnosed acromegaly) must be that of a donkey. KittyKat's girls celebrated with cheap champagne when Stanley declined the job offer. Thinking about all this made him nervous and he would stutter for a week. KittyKat's manager never stopped fantasizing about the money he could make with Stanley's private parts.

Stanley preferred to keep his parts private. He spent his off time in his bedroom, devouring books on unusual facts and statistical anomalies. A man in Chicago had survived an explosion that drove a crowbar up through his skull, without losing consciousness. The odds against that were astronomical, and Stanley giggled with delight when he found stories like these, his brain churning with the 3.662 million-to-one odds of that ever happening again. But even more important than all his statistics, Stanley had a secret friend. He carefully calculated a 79.5% chance of being sent to a padded room in the loony bin if anyone found out that she was a Black Widow Spider named Little Egypt. Unrealized grief, family weirdness, and discarded condoms took a back seat to his spiderwoman relationship.

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