The Harmful Story

         I am the average person, here on leave. I can’t quite make out myself but I can make out you. It’s difficult to live by that, so we changed it so that I knew exactly who I was, why I am here, and knew nothing about you. Yes, we talk and greet each other as we pass. But there never really is much there, just a shiny smile. Now we have begun an epic battle to conquer solutions. But the answer is outside and we can’t go outside on our porch to see it. Its fear and the lack of enough porches for everyone, this shortage is of great concern to me. I discussed this with a professional and he said it was due to the lack of interest in the stars, because you can’t see them move. As I had feared the people of Boise were all dyslexic. I must add that this discovery was of no surprise due to the fact all the signs in town are written with the first letter last and the last first; quite unsatisfactory when you need directions to Hannah Finns for a daily dose of death. Yes, so I found out that it was Downtown or 'Nowdnowt' from an old man with no teeth. How he came under those circumstances defies me. What interested me most about this man were his unusual habits.  He had a bed of pinecones in his little shack by the river. All he lived off of were tea and loaves of bread. He said he was happy and comfortable; he looked it. It was quite interesting talking to a man with common sense. Although I didn’t think he could really get by long on his menial supplements I really wasn’t going to intrude on his lifestyle. I admired him.

         He went to Ohio once by hitching a ride on a train running east. As love would go it snagged him on a sweet summer evening. Wrapped him up in hearts and tossed him to a girl. It was his forced fate he realized; he said forced because it just inexplicably happened without his will. His will and free choice determined his fate and to trip like this had ruined his life plans. He never said what those might have been. He had a bright twinkle in his eye as he told stories of his life to me. This made me question his honesty, but then I realized either way it was interesting. He had still lived those tales in his head as he told them, whether actual truth or not.

         I left him with his tales and muddled over the hunger eating my stomach. I thought about butter then and how I missed its wonderful taste. Butter usually was my favorite, but lately it had just been plain bread. I used to eat butter once a day, but it never satisfied me as much as bread did. Then one night I found a new substance called booze. Booze and bread became the most amazing combination I have ever had. I tend to stay away from combining the things I consume, but this, this was an ecstasy I had never experienced before and wanted forever.

         I found the restaurant a shady spectacle, with mumbling men drinking wine; bartenders laughing at midgets and large breasted women. I found a corner table and sat in awe at the lunacy of the rich contenders. I ordered a glass of milk and rested my chin on my hand, swirling the worn wood of the table with my fingertips. A woman came up to me then all clad in silk linen and asked if I were from Wisconsin. I said I might have been and she gave me a perplexed look, as if I were from the moon. She then asked if I was from the moon and I again replied in perhaps with a small smirk. She giggled and threw her hand out; telling me her name was Adrianna from New York. I obliged the dainty shake telling her my name.

         I, not being taken aback by this open flirtation, took a moment to take in this beautiful brunette coming out of the woodwork of such a place as the south end. She implied my glance as an invitation to sit, pulling out a chair and placing herself in front of me. There were some jealous glances around the room I noticed and I asked her why I was so obliged to receive her company. She smiled a pretty smile and said I was intriguing. A stranger to this area, and that only regulars tend to these old seats. I was just passing through, heading to Portland to meet an old friend of mine. I sighed and told her I had something very dear stolen from me. I hoped to find it in Oregon somewhere and that I had been travelling a long while. I opened up slightly and as she prodded and pried I began to tell a few stories. She stared with her blue eyes listening intently with typical oohs and ahhs.

         Although her very being was most beautiful I had no interest in such matters. My mind was in such disarray that I could not think straight. I had my fill of this place, this scum bar and dusty benches. I told her I was sorry but that I must go and stood to put on my hat. She made a sad facial expression but there was nothing she could say. She asked if she would ever see me again. I told her she would in a few weeks when I come back. She quickly scribbled out her number on a napkin and shoved it into my hand. She then hugged me and whispered keep in touch.

         As I was leaving a band began to play an old blues tune up on stage. I paused a moment to get the reference, my opinion of this place went up slightly hearing the soft melodic brass. It was cool outside with the smell of rain drifting in the air. I lit a smoke and began to walk toward the greyhound station; I would be leaving soon to slit that mother fuckers throat.

         I needed coffee now; my soul was drained of all life and energy. The stress of the past month began to slowly seep through my fortified emotions. I was usually composed and kept myself well. The antics of drug addled minds kept coming foremost to my nerves. They had taken so much without even so much as an apology.

         I smiled and steadied myself at a crosswalk, misdirected anger and resentment wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Introspective criticism will be set aside for now on my part. I’ll let the extroverted gods decide that one. I will just calmly skip across this street here. And I did so with the exhilaration that was my usual self.

         I remembered one time I sold to an old Brit in London two pints. And he told me about a stone he found that would glow on the most beautiful nights and swirl with color. It would speak in whispers and share in the cosmic energy of the universe. Vibrant with the reality of it all he said he could feel the grace of god. It was more powerful than ten hits, he had said. I would scoff and say he had gone way too far but he insisted. Insisted you would be complete with it in the palm of your hand. I was skeptical of my god being a pebble. But there had been stranger incidents.

         If he wasn’t dead now and chopped up I would ask him for it though. I would have liked to see that very much. He had been an old friend of course, and I missed him dearly. But when one has ties with a man like Markee their life is forfeit.

         I felt a jolting pain in my ankle I had sprained a few months ago and I had to sit. I found a bench to rest, to sit and watch the early morning unfold and the old homeless men wander the dark night. I knew all too well where they had come from. The drugs, the kids, the wife, the law. All came into destroying factors. I destroyed myself doing what I love. What did you do today?









2



         Briefly the clear road ahead gave a whiff of the coast, just 80 more miles to the edge of the world. A pop punk band played on the radio, embodying the horrid beauty of American creativity. My eyes glanced longingly at the broken CD player; they watered with lack of sleep and burned from three days worth of contacts. Darkness engulfed our little Corsica in this highway through the wilderness.

         “Gibberish, that’s all I can say, fuck.” A fragile girl mumbled beside me belittling herself for hours on end, the confidence gone left somewhere at home in a closet.

         “Don’t do that, Kailey.” I sighed between my teeth sick of the constant criticism she dealt her character.

         “What?” She was still high. But I supposed we all were in some way or another, even the dead man in the trunk. A girl lay piss drunk in the back seat on her boyfriends lap, we all called her Morgan but we never actually knew her real name. I’m sure her boyfriend did, but he never told a single one of us. Of the four of us she was the genius intellect, yet all was squandered on bottles of liquor, weed, and cigarettes. She didn’t have the patience or will power to hold herself together anymore. This all formed our American dream; it formed an open road and an unplanned future where we had just a car, one million dollars, and one implausible story.

         A kid who went by the name Webbs came up to us at a gas station in The Dalles, eager to greet us with persistent stupidity and lack of charm. None the less he had an interesting story and never failed to catch us with his thick southern drawl. Not but nineteen he needed a ride along the eighty-four to Portland. As this was our destination and we were up for whimsical ideas we obliged him.

         We lit up cigarettes in unison and puffed away as the lines of the road sped by mile after mile, Webbs would talk every once in awhile about his father in Portland who managed a little hotel and how he would own that one day and had it made. He glanced awkwardly at Morgan every once in awhile, still asleep bottle in hand.

         “Er, is she okay?”

         Her boyfriend glanced over and then at Morgan gently moving a strand of hair from her forehead.

         “Yes, yes.” He mumbled as he took a swig from the bottle, and then offered it to Webbs. He took it cautiously glanced at the label and took a small sip.

         “Ah, thanks.” He said awkwardly handing the bottle back.

         It was an odd halted conversation I heard in the backseat. About life and love and the things they missed back in Ohio. The rolling hills and the country as far as the eye could see. Morgans boyfriend seemed to rub off on people in odd directions. Pushing them away or intriguing them immensely. He was an offbeat character sharp witted and shy, portraying this tough man exterior from his alcoholic upbringing. Kailey and I met him dealing in a small south side flat where we all hung out to get a cheap fix. Gradually we began to break through his tough exterior, he had walls and walls built for people and we had only scratched the surface. I wondered at the same time if that maybe his walls were the only intriguing aspect of his nature.

         Morgan came into the group more open and loose ended. Lost in intellectual disarray she had clung to her boyfriend every step of the way. Yet keeping her own person intact. She flung herself out with so many questions that it began to destroy her integrity. I cannot claim to really know who she is any more than I can claim my own existence. But sufficed to say she came through the times she has been sober.

         A rest stop appeared up ahead and I pulled in to stretch my cramped legs. Kailey mumbled and stumbled outside letting her arms stretch wide. It was nearing five am and we hadn’t thought about Paul since Boise. I went to the coffee dispenser inside and paid my fifty cents, sipping the scalding black liquid warming my insides. I closed my eyes with a sigh of momentary satisfaction, lighting up a cigarette and resting on a bench. Kailey walked over and sat as the rest sat in the back drinking into a worry-less sleep.

         “What are we doing?” She said softly resting her chin on her folded hands.

         “I, I don’t really know. Dead bodies aren’t my field. I wanted something more for myself but now these days have gotten so mixed up. How far do you think the money can carry us?”

         “Aha, maybe around the world; maybe it’s worthless. You saw what I saw. That Paul was a friend of that mans wasn’t he?”

         “I highly doubt it the way things went. I need a nap. I need to sleep forever really. I can’t think straight to decide where to put him. We have to get rid of him; I know we didn’t do anything, but still…” I trailed off not knowing what to do. It was all so scattered in my head.

         “We’ll take it to the ocean, well get a boat. That’s what we’ll do. Ride out into the waves, Australia, India. It’s all within our reach, we can just go. The lives we led here in the Americas are inconsequential. But this isn’t an escape, this is a change. A rebirth if you will.”

         Kailey smiled a timid smile at what she had said. She was right we could get away from this monotonous existence. But the past few months had been anything but ordinary.