Wear the Stories

I was there for first dates, sneaking out late at night, thrown on the floor as your boyfriend turned  off the lights and lost in pile of laundry for weeks at a time. Faded black cotton with a few small holes here and there I started as just your average Kiss t-shirt.

I remember the first day you locked eyes on me. I hung there on the display wall of the Hollywood Bowl’s store for who knows how long. Kiss was coming to perform the following weekend and the numbskulls who worked there set up all the retail for the show weeks in advance. Let me tell you, hanging there for weeks on end was no joy ride. Finally the day of the concert rolled around. Thousands of people rushed straight to their seats or the pit if they were lucky enough. I noticed you from afar, your blonde hair tied into a ponytail on the top of your head with pink streaks running through, face painted white with a black star over your left eye…you were hard to miss. You ran up to the store, posse of girls in tow, and pointed directly at me saying, “I want that one, how much?” Greg, the salesman for the day, said, “That ones $25 please.” You eagerly pulled a wad of cash from you brassiere and handed him the money. He pulled me down, folded me up and handed me over.

I felt this overwhelming feeling of happiness when you ran to the bathroom, ripped off your shirt and put me on almost immediately. As you leaned over to touch up your red lipstick, I began to wonder how it was even possible that out of all the other shirts you picked me. After all, I’m just a black t-shirt with the bands name printed across and Gene Simmons face with that massive tongue down the length of the shirt. I realized I had been zoning out for quite some time because when I came to, the concert had started and I was being rubbed against the chest of some guy. As the concert ended and you hopped the car with the man you’d just met, I knew my journey had just begun.

Years passed, you slept in me almost every night and even brought me along on your honeymoon. Yes, she married the guy she met the day I was purchased at that very Kiss concert. I was along for the ride as you and your family moved into the big house on Vanita Pl. A couple weeks after the move things started to change, I noticed some of your other clothes being tossed into a plastic bag, I’ve never been so scared.

It was dark, I was tangled up with other shirts and pants and being violently rocked around. Finally someone ripped open the bag and dumped all of us out onto the cold, wooden table of a thrift store. It was a young girl, she looked to be about 16. The look on her face when she dug me of the pile was the same look the woman at the Kiss concert gave me, pure joy. I remember being shoved into the girls purse and the rest was a blur.

When I finally came too, my sleeves had been cut off, along with my neckline and I had bright red paint splattered all over. I was shocked, but as the young girl leaned into her mirror to put on bright red lipstick, I knew my journey wasn’t over and that these next chapters were going to be good ones.

NOTE: This was a project I had to do, it’s a story based off the perspective of a t-shirt! hope you enjoy:)