...because who doesn't like two-parters?
Anyway, a couple things before my little story. If you dont care, skip ahead.
-I was originally gonna post another poem but I figured I should put this up instead and keep the poem for later...and by "I figured" I actually mean people I knew comming to this blog for the first time informing me that they've already read "Fat Lady Rolling Down A Steep Hill" before and desire something new...and they have a point.
-Right now you're here for one of two reasons: Either Ryan referred you or I did. And if I referred you, than you've already read "Fat Lady" before. So while the Ryan-referred might have read something new, the Ted-referred are scratching their heads and wondering if I've done anything new in the years after writing "Fat Lady"...Well I have. But old stuff will still find its way on here from time to time because my old stuf is just as awesome as the stuff I'm writing now, but until more of our incomming contributors make accounts and officially join us, I figure I'll just post new stuff for now while the talent pool is just 2 men deep...
-Though if there is old stuff on mine that you would like to see me post in the near future, feel free to tell me.
!!!And now on to my little story!!!
"Hair"
Jared was tired. His overtime hours were racking up and things around the station were already chaotic long before they even brought in the kid; The one uniforms caught on the scene and arrested for arson, though it all seemed a little anticlimactic when he finally got a good look at him. He looked like your typical college kid, not some anarchist punk you’d expect the way other officers had been talking about him. Jared wasn’t quite sure what had happened but those other officers were muttering terms like “arson” and “homicide” like casual everyday terms. This casualness would’ve made him sick if he weren’t so damn tired.
Jared was the only available person available at the moment, so he was given the job of interrogating the kid. With only a vague idea of what went down and a file folder someone had handed him on his way in, Jared sat down to talk with the youth who couldn’t have been older than 19.
“You gonna pull the good cop-bad cop act on your own?” the kid asked while playing with something in his hand that looked like a piece of string.
“No,” Jared responded “I’m tired and don’t feel like playing games. Just answer everything I ask you truthfully and we can both be done all the quicker.”
“Good.”
“What’s you’re name?”
“Can I get a cigarette?”
“Just answer the question.”
“If I do, will you spare me a smoke?”
Jared sighed, reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes which he slapped onto the table and kept his hand on. “What is your name?” he asked again.
“Mark.”
Jared pulled a cigarette out and handed it to Mark. “Where do you live?”
“Got a light? Kinda lost mine,” Mark said before laughing to himself, like it were an inside joke and only he was privy to it.
“Where do you live?”
“You must be the only guy they had available.”
“Please. Just answer the question so we can-”
“What are you, gauging if I tell the truth? This shits all in my file you have.”
Jared opened the file and started looking through it. He was more tired than he thought, and Mark had proven to be vigilant as hell, considering he was at a party all night.
“Just making sure you’re with me,” Jared said “Tox-screen says you consumed quite the amount of alcohol.” A bluff. Jared was lucky to catch that in the file, but he tried using it to hide the obviousness of his earlier questions. It seemed to work as Mark backed off and just sat with his unlit cigarette in his mouth.
“Tell ya what,” Mark said after a moment “We can either sit here, dance around the obvious and have you guess what happened, or I can just tell you my side about what went down at Tim’s place tonight.”
“Tim?” Jared asked while eyeing the file again, “The man you killed?”
“I didn’t kill Tim,” Mark said “Just shut that damn file, okay? Probably all lies. What I need you to do is get comfortable, listen and make sure I have something to smoke the whole time.”
Jared remained silent for a few minutes, not sure what he should do. Eventually he took his lighter out and slid it across the table to Mark. He lit up and started.
* * * * * * *
So Tim was never a big party guy. Then one day out of the blue, he decided to start throwing weekly parties. No one minded since it gave us all a place to drink on a regular basis. Also gave us a warm place to smoke in the winter months. Tim himself was never a social person, kept to himself mostly and made little conversation. But since he hosted the parties, he was popular as hell. Go figure.I’m not exactly what you would call popular either. I basically hang out with three other people: Stan, Lucy and Jack. Jack had just transferred over last fall, which was good because until that point I felt like the third wheel to Stan and Lucy who were dating at the time. They broke up about a month ago, by the way.
Stan was the drinker, Lucy was the druggie and I was the smoker. We really didn’t have a niche for Jack though he does have a car to drive us around in, but he never has money for gas, so it’s a waste. The man has no job and survives financially on the money his parents send, which is only enough to drive home (as if they strategically planned that). The other three of us pooled our money into our addictions so like I said, the car goes to waste.
We had a nice rut going on after Tim started throwing parties every weekend. The four of us would go, Stan and I would get in a few rounds of pong and we all usually chill out afterwards drinking beer and smoking whatever we had on the porch. It was a very relaxed and comfortable environment, Stan and Lucy’s breakup notwithstanding.
I know there’s a question rattling around in that beat cop brain of yours and the answer is no, I can’t recall exactly who was at the party when the shit went down. The people I am sure about will be mentioned in this because I would remember watching them-…well, I’ll save that part.
I know you just adore all this unnecessary back story bull shit so I’ll cut the foreplay and get right to the party. I knew from the start it was going to be a bad night. Lucy was on her period and had a term paper due, which just made her extra crazy. Naturally, there wouldn’t be enough money in all of the universe to make me want to spend the night with her, so instead the three of us guys went to the party without her.
It was windy that night, too. You ever realize that the wind blows like a motherfucker whenever something serious is about to go down? Bet you never realize it until after the fact? It’s like some higher power or unseen all knowing force is trying to warn you about something, but like I said, you don’t think about it until afterwards, prompting you to kick yourself in the ass for not being as observant as you should be.
So onto the party. At first I was glad Lucy stayed behind because it was literally PACKED at Tim’s. Apparently Tim decided to go bankrupt and buy all the beer from the local gas stations. He put every other party out for the night because everyone, and I mean everyone was at Tim’s that night. But at the same time no one was there because most of the people there I had never seen before.
The only person I kept running into that night was Tim himself, and he looked different. I couldn’t place it at first but Jack soon pointed out that Tim’s hair didn’t have any gel or anything in it. Tim had always been a man to gel his hair back to the point I felt he had OCD over it. You’d swear he was wearing a helmet because his hair did not move an inch. It had so much gunk in it, it was probably impossible to reposition his hair any other way than the way he combed it.
So yeah, his hair had no gel, and let me tell you, looking at it now I felt like I was trippin’. The slightest movement and every last strand of hair seemed to sway. Hell it seemed to all be moving in different directions but in sync with each other. It was freaky to say the least.
So while the warning lights in my head were going off after looking at Tim’s hair, the full blown sirens went off for me when Tim got up and announced several times that the porch was off limits and we weren’t allowed to smoke anything at all tonight. Many asked why but he never clarified. Now as the heavy chain smoker I am, the mere mention of smoking makes me crave a cigarette, and since Tim wouldn’t allow me to smoke on the porch for some reason, I weaved through the stinking, sweaty crowd for the exit.
“Where are you going?” I heard Tim ask me from behind. I held up my pack of smokes and gestured towards the door. I then fruitlessly tried to turn the knob on the door. “It’s locked, dude,” Time said “Besides, why leave? It’s almost time,” he said as he walked away. To say that creped out was an understatement, though maybe because I had watched Tim’s hair as he walked away. Was it growing longer?
I made a beeline for where I had left Jack and Stan and to my dismay they weren’t there. I had spotted them on the other side of the room and made for their direction.
Now let me explain just how serious this situation was. On my way over, I had passed three different chicks: One whose top was practically falling off, one who was belligerently drunk and actively looking for someone to go home with and one who (if the word on the street can be believed) wanted to ride my cock. Now I was so intent on getting to Jack and Stan and getting the fuck out of Tim’s, that I ignored these three women whom on any other night I would have definitely taken the time to meet and see how far I could get.
I wanted out. Period. I reached Jack and Stan and demanded why the hell they had moved. “Chill out,” Stan said “Jack just needs to piss and someone’s taking their damn sweet time in there!” Stan yelled the last part of that sentence as he banged the bathroom door he and Jack were standing by. “So why are you here too?” I asked. Stan looked back at me and said “I…gotta pee too.”
“Dude, I’ve got a bad feeling bout this place,” I said “I’ve got like, fucking spider senses or something over it. Lets bail.” Stan nodded “I’m feelin’ ya. Place gives me the creeps too right now. Must be Timmy’s hair. Have you seen that shit?”
“That’s freaky.” Jack said before banging on the door himself and yelling “Hurry the fuck up!” to which a female from inside screamed something inaudible.
“Either way, we should bail,” Stan said “But not before I pick up this one chick I met earlier.”
“You don’t even know her fucking name,” Jack said.
“The hell I don’t. It’s…Sherry.”
“I heard her say her name was Jill.”
“No, that was her roommate’s name.”
“The roommate’s name was Claire.”
“You are high as fuck. I didn’t hear anyone say Claire.”
“You walk up to that chick and call her Sherry, and she’ll beat your dumb ass.”
“Guys!” I shouted “How bout we find a way out of here, and THEN you two can bitch!” Stan and Jack stood in silence for a second before Stan spoke.
“…Or maybe her name was Ada.”
“What do you mean “find a way out”?” Jack said, ignoring Stan “What’s wrong with the front door?”
Before I could answer, Tim had jumped onto a coffee table and screamed for everyone’s attention. The room had got completely silent as everyone was looking up at Tim.
From there, everything went nuts. You got another cig?
* * * * * * *
“Well?” Mark asked. Jared was taken aback. “What?” he asked. Mark held up the cigarette butt he had just put out. “Cig dude, you got another cig for me?” Jared dug out another cigarette and handed it to Mark. “Continue,” he said.
Mark just lit up and stayed silent.
“Hey,” Jared said “The deal was I keep handing you cigarettes and you keep telling me what happened, truthfully.” Mark blew out some smoke. “See, that’s the problem, I’m not sure how to tell this next part.”
“Just tell the truth.”
“I’m not sure you’ll believe me.”
“How so?”
“Dude, how open minded are you?”
“The name is Jared. Stop calling me ‘dude’.”
“Fair enough, Jared. How open minded are you?”
“I’m a cop. A certain level of open mindedness is required.”
“No, I’m talkin’ real open minded. Not like you believe in ghosts kind of open mindedness, but rather you believe ghosts can physically fuck you up kind of open mindedness.”
“Are you saying that ghosts are to blame and you’re just an innocent victim?”
“No, Jared, what I’m about to tell you is far more…unbelievable. I just wanna make sure you’re ready to hear it.”
“Oh I am,” Jared said as he lit up his own cigarette “Now, please, continue.”
No comments:
Post a Comment