Apparently I have too Much Crap In My Head (Feb 3, 2009)

Current mood:weird

The people in the following story are both made-up and real. With the exception of Carl, the ones that are real, I have not seen in at least 7 years. Maybe more. Except, also, Terrance, who I do not know personally.

So, I had to fight my way to the top of the stairwell. The old dilapidated building was almost literally falling apart before me, and here I was climbing the banisters and rails rather than the stairs. I had my phone in my pocket, and my bluetooth, too. I think I had a dog with me as well. Something was chasing us, and getting closer.

I had to get to the top floor. In one very specific room, my presence was being waited for. I ran down the crumbly old corridor until I got to the right room and ran inside, slamming the door behind me.there was a single window centered on the far wall, and a once green armchair about 3 feet out from it, covered in detritus. My friends sat in the corner, none of them on the chair, waiting for me. I walked over and sat down, indian, on the floor.

I pulled out a very small bottle from my pocket, the kind you would keep earplugs in, white, with a hinged, fitted lid. Inside is where I kept my pills. The olive skinned one, Perez, got up from the other side of the scattered circle and walked to me. "I have something that is sure to interest you."

I stared back at him as he got out a handful of pills, various shades of pastels, with a devil inscribed on one side. They were fairly large pills, chewables, about the size of a Tums. "What are they?" I asked.

He laughed and told me they are the 21st century cure. I stared at him blankly. "What ARE they," I asked again.

He told me a technical name. I didn't recognize it. Damn pharmaceutical company. They may as well just randomly string together some vowels and consonants the way they name their meds anymore. "They're about like mini-thins. Stronger, maybe. They're not bad. You'll like them."

"I dunno... I've actually had quite enough of the racing heart and feeling like I was going to explode to last me a life-time. I probably shouldn't." I looked around nervously.

"Well, here, at least take a few. No charge. You know the other Tom will want a few. Besides, you can charge HIM for them if you want and make a small, but neat, profit." Perez was good at his job.

I took a small handful of the lightly colored tabs and didn't say anything. Perez turned his attention to someone else and I turned my attention to my phone.

Carl was at work, as it was night time, and I sent him a text to let him know I was ok and I was thinking about him. Then I called Terrance, who was ALSO at work. Both worked in bakeries of sorts. Carl's was upscale and modernized, all shiny clean and well lit with stainless steel everywhere. He'd taken me with him before. I knew. Terrance's was not. His small bakery job had him trapped in a space the size of the average spare bedroom all night with one dim light bulb and grimy walls with exposed pipes. It looked like you'd expect the boiler room of a chinese sweatshop to look.

Terrance picked up after about 3 rings and I could hear him pounding away at the dough. We chatted for about 4 minutes when the door to the small room I was in burst open sending shards of it all over the inside of the room. 

*He stands 6 foot 6 head and shoulders. Pray he never comes knocking at YOUR door.*

There he was. Having just kicked our door in, he stood silhouetted momentarily, in the doorway before walking quite purposefully into the room. I still had the handful of tablets. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I shoved my hand under the rotting cushion of the green chair and deposited the tabs, all but one. 

Perez was a well-known dealer and there was no use even THINKING he would escape. He was dispatched fairly quickly, actually. Then the blue-lit eyes turned to me. "I don't have anything! I have nothing, see?!" I took the small white bottle with the hinge cap and opened it, shaking it upside down for emphasis. I had forgotten there were 2 tiny pills left in it from a past playtime with something or other. They weren't hard candy, but they were still candy. I begged incoherently.

He grabbed my wrist and turned over my closed fist. I opened it to reveal a pasty yellow green tablet, which I ate to demonstrate that it was harmless and likely a Tums. He bought it but looked again at the 2 tiny pills that had fallen out of the bottle. He looked back at me and, staring me in the face the entire time, drug his scalpel across the palm of my hand, leaving a bright red gash. I screamed and screamed. It wasn't TOO deep, just deep enough to hurt like a bitch and maybe teach me a lesson.

He went through the room like that. One after the other. If they were clean, he let them go or gave them a similar warning. If they were not, well... 

I was crying and begging mercy and forgiveness the whole time. "Don't let me die like this, OMG I'm sorry, please don't kill me, they weren't even mine, I don't know where they came from..." Cry cry cry.


After he had gone, I immediately stopped crying. I've been able to cut off the water works like that as long as I can remember. The only real purpose a trick like that serves is to make it appear to onlookers that the whole weeping mess you were but a second ago was all just a sympathy act and save you some face. I glanced at the scrawny blonde girl staring up at me from the floor and noted that yet again, it had worked like a charm.

I bandaged my hand and realized that I was still on the phone with Terrance. He congratulated me on an excellent scream and a job well done. I took the fire escape down to the sidewalk so that I could hear better. There were 3 or 4 people down there, standing on the curb for no apparent reason.

They whispered quietly amongst themselves and paid me no heed. There was also an old homeless bum wandering about out there with an empty glass bottle he would set down and then pick up again every time he wandered past it. He was drunk as hell.

He wobbled past an old red wagon, presumably his own, full of dirty possessions. A few scraps of clothing, a glass measuring cup, a grubby old doll with no clothes, and a dark green bottle with a bright orange fluid inside it. It was a Jagermeister bottle. I recognized that one well enough.

As the old bum approached the wagon a 4th time, he seemed to take note of the bottle and ask of me if he could have it. It wasn't mine, and I thought it his, so I said that he sure could. He took it up and began to drink it. I walked away.

I asked Terrance what time he was supposed to get off work and it wasn't for a while yet. He was bitching about having to slave away in that tiny little crap hole. I couldn't blame him. "Maybe I could come by and help out for a little while?" I offered. "Carl has taken me into his store a few times. I know how to do some of it."

We discussed it further as I wandered aimlessly down the streets. I was getting close to the Commons Mall downtown. I hung up the phone. I don't know if Terrance was still on there or not. 

There was a large group of elderly people inn front of my, ogling a set up display of some sort. I crossed the street to where they were gathered and as I was walking past, I heard one of the old crones repeating over and over, "No, I think thats the saw blade I painted. Edgar, doesn't that look like the saw blade I painted. I think thats the same one."

No one was paying her much mind and I glanced up at the display of several large painted objects on the square white shelves. Pumpkins. Painted pumpkins. Most with flowers on the top or glued to the sides. The one the lady was pointing at was a particularly well done one with flowers on top and a scenic view of a snow covered park with a red covered bridge in it.

I recognized the woman as Mrs. Merryman from across the street at my mother's house. I had grown up across from her and her old-ass husband. I thought about how old she had been the whole time I was a kid and how I was 26 now. She must be a hundred and ten!

I picked up the pumpkin and brought it down to her eye level and let her examine it. "Oh, heh, its not a saw blade at all, is it? My, eh, eyes must have been playing tricks on me, there. That's not mine at all. Its lovely, though, isn't it?" She stammered.

I replaced the pumpkin on the shelf and as I was taking my first step to walk away, my hand still throbbing, I woke up.