It's Just Different | By: Rochelle Rose Jones | | Category: Short Story - Comedy Bookmark and Share

It's Just Different


“The only way to truly live, is to completely die
once.” -Toby

Chapter 1

This has been going on for too long. No sleep, no rest, no dreams, no anything.
It had been okay before.
Sleep deprivation bites a part of my life everyday. Smiles fade.
Laughing seems pointless. Eating gives me no relief. Caffeine just seems like
a energetic waste. Water is there just to fill me up. Clocks just present the
minutes left until I go to work. And my boss, she just seems like more of an
bitch than the day before.
Time become endless. Life becomes a struggle. Everything is altered.
And in the end of it all, the last fucking ounce of your integrity, and the
last pint of definite morals, and the last gallon of self mutilation, and the
last pound of desire, and the last quart of excitement becomes my everything.
Changing what used to be fun into what is now hell.
It’s hard to believe I put up with it for no absolute reason.
I’d kill myself, but I don’t have the time to write an unambiguous
suicide note.
Paid programming and infomercials explaining their new Bette Crocker
Kitchen Set or Nutrisystem guaranteed weight loss diet covers half of all my
The way I imagine Bette Crocker to look like is one of the Stepford
Wives, who robotically earns her husband praise.
I watch them to hear something else banging at my ear drums, it works,
because I’m usually enthralled with Rogan’s newest formula for preventing hair
loss, but at the end of it I wake up to my reality.
Rustling on the bed. Turn my body to face the wall. Count the ceiling
tiles. Face up, face down. Prop my leg up on a pillow. Turn the heater up,
turn it down. Too cold, too warm. Use the pillow, or lay on the cool sheets.
Have my arm hanging over the edge of the bed with the overly superstitious,
irrational fear of my arm being grabbed by a cold, sweaty hand and have the
fingers wrap around my forearm like an Indian burn grip so maybe I’ll put my
arm on the bed and not hanging over the edge of the bed.
Lynn shouts and Toby grunts harder. I hate their voices at 4:00 in the
Maybe I should go get a bite to eat.
After all, if you can’t sleep get up and do something.
Wendy’s is now open 24 hours for people like me who can’t sleep. Order
a small cheeseburger and leave. Maybe a coka cola too.
4:28. I’ll have to get ready for work at 5:30, then leave at 6:30,
and get there at 6:50. And then wish I had a gun until I get off at 5:00.
Then act happy until I step inside my place and hear Lynn rustle about. Then
the night starts. No sleep. No dreams. Nothing of mine’s left.
The cashier at Wendy’s doesn’t even smile as she hands me my meal.
I don’t blame her.
I don’t even smile anymore.
At work, I get anxiety attacks around my boss. She looks at me and
I breath heavy. I hate her. I have that to look forward to after not getting
sleep. Joy.

Chapter 2

I haven’t been able to sleep with the noise and the agitation of Lynn.
Lynn is fucking Toby in the room next to mine. She shouts at her
climax and he laughs wildly at anything.
I like Toby. I loathe Lynn, but when their both in the same room, I
hate them the most.
It’s like nails on a chalk board each night.
I get no dreams and Lynn gets an orgasm.
Not only to they have carnivorous sex, but they both invaded my life,
my things and my head.
On one side, I can’t like Lynn if I cared, and I can’t like Toby when
he’s with Lynn. He’s not the same sly, nocuous, and free man I am
willing to listen to. He’s just another naked man I have to watch roam around
my apartment, in my life, during my breakfast.
Lynn and Toby don’t love each other, they love what each other has for
them, so, in the simplest terms, Toby, a penis, and Lynn, a vagina.
They love sex. They’re both orally fixated. They don’t know anything
on a personal level about each other.
I wouldn’t mind it so much if they made love every night to demonstrate
how they feel, but no, this is them, this is sport fuck, and they just throw
away condoms in my toilet.
I look in my toilet. I have never seen so many condoms. I don’t even
think I can flush my toilet. Oh, and my trash bin. That is overflowing with
rubber wrappers too.
It’s repulsive.
I can just imagine Toby pumping his human caliber into Lynn’s
vacancy, while she screams. I sigh.
“Herrrrreeee’s Johnny,” says Toby as he peaked into the bathroom.
“Guess what?”
“How many were used last night?” He screeches out.
No, I’m not going to answer that, I say.
“Thirty nine.”
“Aw! Gross!! That’s not even possible!”
“Hah, and we weren’t even trying.”
Toby! Don’t, don’t tell me this. I don’t want to know this stuff, I say.
“Just joking, calm down.”
I push him aside and leave the bathroom. I can piss at work .

Chapter 3

I want to be on the beaches of California, soaking up the hot sun, like a
lizard, as I lay there, naked, happy without any distractions, just myself
and the water rushing to the shores.
I rub my eyes as I awake to the bright, gleaming warm rays of golden
threads hitting my pale skin. The blue water tickling my feet and the sand,
the sand as soft as a butterfly’s silk wings. The wind silently brushing
little feathers in all directions on my body. And everything’s serene and quiet.
I can smell the water as it moves near me and I can’t hear it splash the
shore, like two little kids dunking each other off in the distance. I love
the calmness of all the movements of nature.
And suddenly, things go dark. The water stands still, the sand turns
into rocks and glass, the wind hardens and the sun fades behind the murky,
gloomy clouds as they crackle and pop in my ears. Everything’s cruel.
I see Lynn smiling. She’s here. She’s in my life, in my head, in my
Everything went down the toilet, just like those condoms. Every night
I loose a little more.
“Hey, wakie, wakie, eggs and naked!”
Fuck. I must’ve fallen asleep again at my desk.
Kevin stands hovering over me. His joke was humorless to me.
Since coming out of a daze, I had no clue what he just said.
“Excuse me?” I concentrated on my keyboard as my vision started
coming to normal. My eyes blur when I wake up after looking at the computer
screen too long.
“You’re going to get fired if this keeps up,” he teases.
“Oh, shut up, everyone knows you’re only here because you kiss Shelia’s
ass every Friday night!”
“Yeah, so?”
“Go away, Kevin!”
“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Get out of here!”
He leaves with a conceited walk. I hate his guts. I want him to puke
blood before the end of the day.

Chapter 4

How Lynn came to live with me was, well, Jim. He’s my co worker. He’s the
annoying, incessant asshole, who has to tell me about every lay he gets.
This had to be about three weeks ago, when I was still dreaming of
lilacs across hill sides of fine scents and beautiful sunsets, when I acted
normal, or looked it at least. I was still telling myself I was at bottom.
I convinced myself I had it real bad. Bad job, son of a bitch boss, and nothing
to do in my life except complain about it in my head. But, I had no idea how far
away bottom was until Lynn infected my life.
Let’s begin with the beginning.
I walked into my building and saw Jim. He was waiting for me and he
had a wide smile on him that shouted he was ready to tell me the grotesque
details of how he fucked some spineless chick the night before. I can’t stand
his stories. I want to rip his tongue off so I never have to hear his whiney,
raspy voice say anything ever again.
“Hey,” he said as he walked beside me. “You’ll never guess what
happened to me last night.” By his excitement, I didn’t think I wanted to
He would ramble on about his broad and I would be there wanting to
kill myself, but somehow I could sense there was an unusual amount of excitement
in his annoying voice. I, sadly, wanted to know more, but I wasn’t going to
act like I did want to know.
“Okay so, this chick, that I met at the bar after she was giving me
the cowgirl eyes,” he started off.
In Jim’s mind, “cowgirl eyes” meant she gave him a look of arousal,
like she was interested and later in that night would like to fuck his brains
“So, she wants me to come to her apartment, so of course I decide to
go up and you know, make a move or something real nice like that. I mean, if
a girl invites you up to her room for the night, then you know she really
means sex, right?”
“I guess,” I said trying to mind my own business as I waited for the
elevator to come because I’d have rather started my morning with coffee than
listening to how Jim injected certain structures into his cowgirl last night.
I couldn’t have acted like I cared or he would have told me everything
nasty about his night. I couldn’t take that much.
The elevator doors opened and we go in along with like two other
people, who had to regrettably hear Jim’s story.
“So, after a while me and this chick start talking dirty. I mean,
she initiated the dirty talk so I was just conforming after her. Then
things start getting nasty and we move into the bedroom.”
The older woman beside me rolled her eyes and sighed.
I didn’t blame her. I used to do the same thing only now I don’t
have it in me to care anymore.
“Okay this is the best part. We’re in the bedroom and I’m not kidding,
she gave me the greatest blow job I’ve ever had.” he said that last part
really loud so the older woman could hear him.
The elevator doors opened and the woman left. As she got off Jim
gave her the finger.
“What is the deal with people nowadays? Anyway, I mean, this blow
job was worth 10 grand, I’m not kidding.”
Jim would always rate his women’s performances by the sum of money
it could amount to.
“The funny thing about that chick though is she never told me her name.”
He laughs. The doors to our floor opened, finally.
“Alright, I got to go. I turned left as he went right. Our cubicles
are in the opposite ends of this floor.
“See you at lunch,” he shouted as he walks away from me.
I sat there in my chair staring at the computer, my eyes were
glued to the screen and I was working. It hurts after a while of focusing
constantly on a bright contrast of shadowed words on top of porcelain
white paper. I imagine my eyes will start burning soon.
I wonder if my eyes will begin to twitch.
In my office, you hear about that a lot. People in the coffee
room complain about how their eyes won’t stop twitching because they
concentrated on the screen too long and strained their eyes. I’ve never
had it before, but I’m just curious. Maybe today.
You know when you’re too concentrated on something you forget what’s
around and everything becomes distant and miniscule, well . . . you
startle easy . . .
“Hey!” shouted Jim as he peeked into my cubicle.
“Holy shit! You scared the shit out of me! Why are you always doing
“Wanna hear a funny joke?” What joke isn’t funny?
“Jim I have a lot of--
“Okay, why is sex like a bicycle?” He had a corrupt grin on his face.
It reminded me of The Joker’s smile in the Batman series.
“I don’t know. Why?” is said in the most unconcerned tone.
“You have to keep pumping if you want to get anywhere.” He laughed
so loud and gritty. I barely smirked.
“Jim, I have to--
“What are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing.” I was hardly paying attention. I was staring at the
computer screen and hoping he would’ve left me.
Reflecting upon it now, everything would be better if he did leave.
“You need is a drink. You know, something to get your mind off your
work. A release. You’re too serious. What do you think?”
“I don’t need a drink.”
“Well, than have a drink with me tonight anyway.”
“Sure. Whatever. Jim, I have more reports to do before lunch so can
you, please?”
He raised his eyebrows and waved his hands out like a boy scout’s
pledge motion.
“See, you’re too serious.” I rolled my eyes. He backed away and then
he left.
I would never go to the extent of saying I hate Jim, but he can get
maddening at some times. He is very uncouth with women. He has the usual
pattern of every promiscuous guy. He takes everything he can get out of one
chick, like using all their mileage as if they were a car. When he doesn’t
like them anymore or sex gets harder to have he’ll get a new car. Only this
ride could be anyone. It doesn’t matter to him. He thinks fine legs, big
tits, right size ass compared to body, decent facial looks is ready enough
for a test drive.
Jim got his plate and walked over to sit next to me.
How reminiscent is an office building’s cafeteria to the old high
school days. The ones with high school non-steadies, or one night stands as
we put it. The mass arrangement people as they decide who’s been fucking
their way up to the top and who’s really earned it then label them as what ever
they want as long as it is reprehensible enough to start something or better yet
make themselves laugh in secrecy.
I remember my first day at this job. It felt like high school all
over again. Knees trembling, hands shaky. Cold, moistened palms. Eying for the
hot girls and the far-fetched jocks with the pumped up biceps, glamorizing
looks and a huge ego in their pants.
All of it makes me sick.
Maybe that’s my habit. Destroying what I hate to its bitter core
and reading and venting out people in my head when ever I want. Or maybe
everyone does it and I just don’t know about it so it would then be almost
arrogant and ignorant to consider this my habit.
“Hey!” He slammed his ass down on the bench. He put his tray down
and grinned at his newly occupied food.
I had only a water bottle and one bag of chips.
“Hey, you remember that chick I was telling you about this morning?”
“Yeah.” Oh God, not this again. “You know I don’t want to talk about
the greatest blow job or any other sex related activity that you did with
your cowgirl last night. I just want to finish this and get back to work. Okay,
Jim? Okay? Can we do that? Please?”
His eyes fell downcast as he lowered his head, but then suddenly he
lifted it back up again and smiled.
Fuck. He was still going to tell me what he wanted to.
“She was great. I think you should meet her.”
“I don’t want a blow job.”
“I didn’t say blow job. I just said meet her.”
“Isn’t that what meeting her will lead to, Jim? She’ll smile and
then push me into the bedroom do something sex orientated.”
“Not necessarily. Okay, just listen. She said some funny things last
night that I think would cheer you up. Will you come?”
“I thought she didn’t tell you her name?”
“Well, yeah, but she gave me her phone number. That’s all that’s
necessary, right?” His mother must’ve bathed him in rotten oil, seeing that
a good childhood does not produce this much of a shallow and obscene man.
“So can you come?” he asks again.
“No, Jim, I don’t think--
“Great. Come to my house around 6:00.
“Jim! I said--
“You’re going or I will drag you there kicking and shrieking.”
“It’s kicking and screaming.”
“Never mind.” I got up and through away my bag of chips and water
bottle. I just stood by the trash can and looked at Jim.
He looked excited, and if I could only say that for myself. I could
sense nothing after this would be alright again, like an animal’s anxiety
before a hurricane hits. It’s in my gut, a twisting sensation that things
won’t cheer up and I won’t laugh.
I wish laughter was repressed before it hit Jim. He saw everything
as a joke. It made him look desperate to smile. I hated it.
Or maybe, I’m just looking for a small, unreasonable reason to hate
him and it’s me with the character flaws.
I need a reason to hate anyone, but why give the effort to fix
anything I’ve built up inside when things seem normal. It’s hard enough to
care already.

Chapter 5

I expected nothing about this event tonight. Even if she did want to give
me a blow job, I wouldn’t have gone for it.
Although, when I’d go home that night, I’d have nothing to do, I
still want to be there sympathizing for myself. Two, I’m not interested.
I don’t think, unlike Jim, that a blow job will allow me to stop being
depressed and anxious. Honestly, I’d be better off with pills than a blow
I kept thinking this is so stupid and truly pathetic.
Some chick opened the door. Wearing a skimpy black strapless top that
draped over her dark blue jeans that only reached halfway down her shins, she
sat next to me on the couch. She smiled and tip her head back to get the hair
out of her icy blue eyes.
This must be her. The cowgirl.
Her eyes are drenched with black make-up and her skin, pale like
unadulterated snow itself. She had a cigarette in her hand that had been
smoked to it’s finsh but she didn’t seem to notice yet.
Her eyes were biting into my bones as if she already hated me before
she heard me speak.
“I’m Jim’s friend.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Hey. Come here.” Jim walked into the room. I got up and went to him.
“What?” I asked blankly.
“You saw her, right?”
“Yeah.” He shakes his head as if I should be turned on by her
She takes a new cigarette out of her pack of PlayBird Cigarettes
and lit it using his oven. She turned the dial and waited for it to click on.
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I think she shouldn’t smoke.” I feel like an asshole
standing there next to Jim dictating her life style and every move as if
I’m any better than her.
“Her name is Lynn Jones.” says Jim.
“Oh so you found out her name.”
She sat back on the couch casually.
“Hey Lynn, this is my friend.” he says pointing to me.
I feel like we’re in high school where your friends try to set you
up with girls in a condescending manner. It used to make me feel like an
idiot. Now I just feel tired.
She looked at me. Eyeballed me toe to head.
When people do that you can’t help but feel like you have no
pants on.
“Does your friend have a name or should I call him nothing?” She blew
out some smoke into my face as she smiled to hint she doesn’t care for my name.

Chapter 7

That night she took me to her place. I went. I thought maybe I could stay
for a drink and then smoothly make my way out of the door by coughing up a
few lies. I shouldn’t have ever gone.
PlayBird Cigarette packs were scattered across every table and ash
trays were overfilling with tiny black specks. And cigarette burns marked
each counter and sofa. I felt unsafe and like I had already smoked a cigarette
just because of the fumes.
I’ve seen better homes in the dark alley’s of Los Angeles.
There were towels from the bathroom in the kitchen and clothes hanging
all around the house making it indecipherable to tell which ones were clean.
Lynn didn’t seem like the normal person. She was different. If there
was a tornado within a person, Lynn had it. She was fucked up on all her
grounds. I just didn’t know the half of it then.
When I got into her apartment, I suddenly had an instant urge to
take a leak. I think half the reason why Lynn’s in my life now has to do
with my bladder that night.
I opened the bathroom door to see an addict ready to shoot up. He
was on the floor, belt tied tightly on his bicep, needle in shaking hand
prepared to inject, and eyes excited and exhausted too. He seemed to be
relaxed as I watched.
This wasn’t the normal activity you’d expect in one’s bathroom.
Lynn comes up behind me and chuckles at this site.
“You think you can pee with him staring at you from behind?” She
giggled. I gave her a cruel stare.
“Can you guys leave? I’m trying to do this here. I can’t do it with
people staring at me,” said the junkie.
And I can’t piss with another person staring at me.
“Oh yeah.” I closed the door. Lynn just stood there laughing. “Who
was that?
“That was Toby, my roommate. Don’t mind him. He just comes here to
shoot up and then he’s gone.” She handed me a PlayBird Cigarette. She lit
it with a dark purple lighter.
I hadn’t ever smoked a cigarette before.
Lynn had major problems that I gradually found out about. She was a
complete train wreck.
Vicodin. Valium. Paxil. Zoloft. Selesca. Depitco. Percocets. Zydone.
Stadol. Xanax. MS Contin. Lortab. Darvocet. Lorcett. Librium. Diluadid.
Klonipin. Codeine. Ativan. Thorazine. Barbiturates. Ecstasy. Tranquilizers.
Cocaine. Uppers. Amphetamines. Speed. Heroin. Marijuana.
And anything else she got her hands on. Most of these drugs she told
me about she had only tried once and sometimes the portions were so small
she didn’t like them or lost her love for them after the first time.
She had once told me Oxycontin was a personal favorite for her.
Anorexia nervosa. Bulimia. Drug dependence. Depression. Anxiety.
No self-esteem. No self-confidence. No way to say no. She was really fucked
She said she had no main drug at the moment but she said she was
certainly looking. She was straight down fucked up. And every night I was
somehow a part of it. It was like I could taste a little vomit every time
she talked, not literally, but metaphorically. I got a little relief.
The night after I went to her place after being at Jim’s was my first
night and then a weekend later was my second.
Let’s get one thing straight. I don’t love her. Lynn, I don’t feel
moved by or feel like I have to save her. No not at all. She interests me.
She makes me realize how much I have that she doesn’t. That I have
nothing to hate in my life and that I shouldn’t be depressed, but content.
That I should be satisfied with my life and be glad I’m not her. I know that
that is a mean thing to say but it’s only the truth.
I didn’t get any anxiety at work after that night with Lynn. She
cured me in a sense. I wanted more. I thought maybe she could fix me and
I could stop mulling over everything in my life. I should have thought
I have to see her again. Not to listen to how demented her life is
but to get relief from my own. A sense of control she fails to have and I,
lack. Seeing a piteous girl like her tells me I have nothing to be ashamed
of. I’m reminded of how normal I am.
She seems to be my drug. I haven’t done anything with her at this
point, I just listen to her talk.
I went to Lynn’s house like normal and we talked to each other, like
normal people do. She told me of her life as I listened.
After hours of that, I started to get tired. It was about 11:00 so I
decided to go home and sleep.
I walked home in the rain. I was soaked by the time I got there. My
clothes drenched, my eyes irritated, my feet making wet foot prints on the
ground along with smushing sounds from the water being compressed out, and
my wet, stringy hair, dangling in front of my eyes.
I changed my clothes and plopped myself on my bed.
I fell asleep. It felt like I hadn’t slept in years. I lay there, just
drifting away.
You have to realize how I felt. I was finally at peace with myself
for once, like everyone else is.
I dreamed of lilac clouds carefully shifting behind a vibrant vanilla
sky over fields of vast emptiness with little mundane black and white cows
graze in the setting sun. this is my perfect idea of what dreams should be
for insomniacs. Serene farms full of beautiful features that demonstrate
flawless perceptions of our world in the most overachieved way. I felt
like a fucking brilliant invention to have seen it.
I woke up to the sun shining in my windows.
Wait, that’s not right. It’s Monday. Shit! I’m late for work!
I ran into the building. I’m 5 hours late. My boss was at the main
desk ready to pound me with harsh words and discouraging looks. She looked
like she’s ready to hang me.
“What happened? You’re never late! And today of all days. We had a
shipment come in and a meeting. Where were you?!” she asks.
“I’m sorry sir, I just lost track of time. It won‘t be repeated. ”
“Well, you came late to work today and I don’t think you have a good
enough excuse to be.”
“No, I don’t.”
I feel like punching her in the right side of her jaw and beating
her repeatedly as she lies there on the ground helpless. While the lobby
secretary stares in shock, and the corrupt security guards pull me off of
her. Blood is everywhere. And I just look at what I’ve done and grin the
biggest fucking grin I’ve ever had.
My boss gives me a look of agitation. She walks away.
I walked into the elevator and down the halls
Let me go talk to Jim and tell him why I’m late.
“Hey Jimmy!”
“Hey!” He looks up from his computer and sees me. “Were you late?
I didn’t see you in the morning.”
“I was exhausted.”
“You and everyone in this city. Everyone is exhausted, but why
were you late?”
“Oh, it was nothing.”
“Who did you see?” He can smell I lie I bet.
Oh Lynn, dear Lynn, tragic Lynn, you saved me. I slept due to
your pitiful life. Due to your useless excuse to keep going I was able
to dream of mundane cows and vast farmlands and skies of wholesome bliss
above. Thank you Lynn. Thank you for not living conventional.
“Lynn? Aw, dude, did you fuck her!?”
“No! Ew, God, no! Keep you’re voice down!”
“Then what happened?!”
“Nothing. I’ve got to work.” I turned around and went to my
shrinking cubicle to rot away. I felt my heart speed up and I started to
sweat. Another day ahead of me and then I’ll see Lynn tonight and then
I’ll be fine. I’ll dream and be calm.
Her life distracted me from my own. I didn’t think about my life
after hearing about hers. It worked well enough until we fucked.

Chapter 7

She seemed suicidal tonight. Perfect, I’ll sleep better if she’s more
“I mean truthfully, who can live like this? With the pressures
and demands of shit that isn’t necessary to survival but expected to be.
It’s a killer. I swear if this bullshit doesn’t kill me, then I certainly
She wants to kill herself as a means to an end. What a change? She
always has that idea. I know why, but I bet she doesn’t. It’s all the
anti-depressants she’s taking.
It’s truly ironic how anti-depressants can give you suicidal thoughts.
I mean aren’t they suppose to take away your depression, not add more thoughts
of not wanting to live. Obviously they’re not working. Lynn doesn’t see the
mockery yet. I’m not going to tell her though. All this suicide is letting
me be able to dream of mundane cows and lilac clouds in front of cream skies.
I wouldn’t want to stop that.
“I mean, let’s say I slit my wrists, down the street, and I fall to
the ground And watch the blood pour out from my open cuts, I bleed and die.
Who would honestly care if I died? I don’t contribute to society. I’m living
illegally in an abandoned house. I pretty much taken every drug on the street
market at least once. My father raped me as a teenager. My mother left me
when I was 15. I have had no real commitment to a guy so there’s no chance
of any of my ex’s coming to my funeral. It really makes me think. Who would
actually come, you know? I cant think of anyone except maybe the priest who
would say all that religious bullshit to honor my death, but who else?
I mean, he’d probably ditch it and go out to eat because no one showed up.
It’s just I’ll never know unless I do it but I’m not sure if that when you’re
dead you can watch your funeral, like as if it was in a like a movie theatre
or something. I don’t think it is though.” She laughs.
Her talking usually turns into rambling, making her first subject
completely separating itself from her last sentence. This could go on
forever without end so I’ll just sit there and nod my head repeatedly to
act as if I’m listening to every word when actually I’m just sitting there
thinking of what I want to dream about now that I’m able to sleep.
“Hold on.” She leaves the room. I think she’s going to swallow a
couple of her anti-depressants, not unusual. In fact I think I’d be more
surprised if she didn’t want to take any of her pills in her fragile, but
temporary stage.
She stumbles as she walks back into the room. After almost tripping
over the small table to her right, she manages to gain her balance. There’s
a bottle of hard liquor in her hand. I think it’s scotch.
“I don’t really drink.”
“Not even on occasion.”
“No.” She laughs.
“You’re too immature. You’re over 21. Drink your fucking heart out.”
“I don’t want any whiskey.” She takes the top off and tries to get
me to drink it by putting it next to my mouth. “I said I didn’t want any.”
“Shut up. I’m liberating you.”
“What for?”
“Shut up and drink.” I take a sip and wince in the awful taste.
I try to swish my tongue around as if to rid myself of the bitter drink.
She giggles. “Toughen up!” She laughs more. “Have more,” she says as she
tries again to shove the bottle down my throat. I swallow more and then I
once again cringe with the awful taste. She chuckles and swallows half the
bottle of whiskey in one huge gulp. A smile plays her pale skinned face.

Chapter 8

I broke the cycle. Here I lay, next to her warm, dead body and once again
insomnia shall plague my life.
It’s funny how she seduced me into this. We finished off the whiskey
hours ago and then we drank more and more of various beverages all fitting
in the category of hard liquor. We were then drunk and I was too vulnerable
to put up a fight not to have sex to top of the evening.
She looks dead. Her limp figure, so pale and damaged, hardly moves.
I’ll stroke her cotton cheek and wonder how the fuck I managed to let this
happen. No more sleep, no more rest, and certainly no more dreams of cream
skies with their lilac clouds above fields of mundane cows. I’ve lost it all
now. I can’t even imagine how I could find a person more miserable than her to
somehow shake myself back into thinking how lucky I am not to be that person.
She nuzzles her head into the pillow. Right now I could suffocate her
with my pillow. But what’s the point? Somehow I’ve ruined my hope of sleeping.
I broke the cycle with one fatal flaw of purely new found arousal. What have I
done? What for? To what purpose?
Her hair has no scent just like that of the poppy flowers, just as her
skin color reminds me of the opium white the flowers have. Their fragile
state reminds me of her feeble nature. Her skin, like paper to the touch,
and caressing it makes me think of the silky feel, the kind that poppy flowers
tend to have, the feel like cotton or an orchids wildness tamed and put onto
the skin of another. It makes me sick. It makes me want to strangle her more
than ever now. She allowed me to sleep. And now? Now I have nothing to dream
of. She stole my dreams. She grins a little at the dreams she must be having.
Oh how wonderful it would be to see those fluffy lilac clouds in front of the
magnolia skies above those dreary cows in their fields of vast emptiness.
Oh do I want to see it again. She took them.
Her eyes flutter open and she playfully smiles at me.
I hate this moment.
She grabs a pack of PlayBird Cigarettes from under the bed and looks
for her lighter. She takes out a PlayBird Cigarette in the mean time and puts
it in between her lips. Her rosy red lips hold it there. She grabs her lighter
which landed up on the ground and she lights her PlayBird Cigarette. She blows
smoke out. Her naked body is sitting up over the ledge of the bed now. I can
see only the faint silhouetted figure of her back and her breasts gently showing
themselves. Their bliss, so young and so delicate.
“Hey, umm, I’m sort of in a conundrum right now. Do you think you could
help me out in the meantime?” She looks at me and her desperate eyes reveal
their elegance in the dim light of the room. I would miss those eyes if I
didn’t hate her.
“For how long?”
“It would probably be only 2 months or maybe less, depending on how
fast I can tie up loose ends.”
“Yeah fine, just, umm, clean up after yourself.”
“Thank you!” She leans down to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll
go pack.” She leaves the room in search of a suitcase or bag to carry her
shit in.
How can exasperate this more?
Her shit went everywhere.
Her bras hung from the shower doors to dry, her cherry red lipstick
next to the sink and on my nightstand, her nail filer in the kitchen desk,
her high heels by my couch, her skirts in my closet, her Pepsi in the fridge,
her hair in my brush, her mouth in my business, her eyes on my actions, her
judgment, her in MY LIFE.
I could stand all of that for the most part. Every once in a while
I’d get pissed and after she left I’d clean the apartment. It didn’t relieve
much stress, but I felt more in control over it. I figured at least I have
a handle on things when she’s gone.
Things only got worse.
Her drunken, rich, sexed up pseudo businessmen, with their ties on my
ceiling fan, their shoes in separate places in my room, their shirt and jacket
on my floor, their underwear on my couch, their pants on my chair, and their
naked buffed up muscles displayed on my pillows and their reproductive organs
fully erect during my breakfast.
Her self styled kings of slop were always leftover jocks shot into the
real world that nerds had practiced before school got out and now they drink
to get drunk to get sex to put behind the worries of their shit life.
She’s invaded my life and brought dicks in with her.
The only thing that keeps me going is knowing that there’s a new guy
every night and that he’ll be so embarrassed when he realizes Lynn’s nasty
little habit.
After her little shit guy takes off his clothes, she steals them. She
hides them and then later gives them to homeless people. She forces the guy
to walk home in the nude.
I never found out why she did it, but when I came to her about the
subject she only responded, “Why not?”
It was her signature.
She still got a different guy each time and the guy from the previous
night never told anyone because, who could confess that?

Chapter 9

I had been lenient with her shit lovers, but after I got to know one that
she never left naked walking home and that came back, I started to like him.
How I met Toby, was, well, I was at Lynn’s.
She was snorting up some cocaine she had procured this morning.
I had to wait for her because I drove her here in my car.
I could feel the house move there was so many junkies in it. I had
to sit in the corner just so I could think.
This heroin filled, sweating, sex crazed, distant junkie came up
to me and stood in front of me, just staring. I didn’t know if I should
have waited for him to speak or if he was waiting for me to say something.
At first you don’t realize it’s there but then you look and then you
spend the rest of your time trying not to look at all.
There are a few things more unsettling than glancing at two pinpointed
pupils and then looking down to see a huge cock in front of your face at high
I tilted my head. This was wrong. He didn’t look embarrassed or
bothered. It was all hanging out in front of me and he just stared into my
eyes with his smoldering black, gritty eyes. I tried to only look at his
concentrated eyes.
I could feel his dick pointing to me. Look at me. Look at me. Look
at me. Fuckin look. It begged me to look, but I didn’t want to. It propelled
me to see it again, once more. I held my gaze strong those. His memorizing,
immovable eyes made me not turn away.
His deep eyes reminded me of a toddler’s need for attention. All they
want is for you to pay attention to them for just a second longer.
I don’t know how long we were glaring at each other, but it felt never
ending. He didn’t talk, nor did I. He wouldn’t look away, nor would I. An
insane cycle of reluctance.
He finally parted his lips and started to speak, “Where do you live?”
“Where do you live? You know, home? Yours? Where is it?”
“I want to fuck Lynn this weekend or tomorrow, I don’t know,
sometime, and she said I should talk to you. Where do you live?”
“You mean sex?”
“No, I mean inject some Snow White until she pukes out the seven
dwarfs. Where do you live?!”
“Uh,” He listened, stared for a second, and went into the bathroom
to get Lynn.
I had to stay there for another hour looking at naked anorexics,
doped out junkies and paranoid, cranked-up and spun addicts who kept asking
me, “Who did I work for?”
Toby flung the bathroom door open and huge piles of steam and smoke
flooded out. He had Lynn on his back.
I took them back to my house where they filled up the whole night
with condoms and intravenous drug use. It’s still a blur to them.
Now both of their voices were in my life. If I was a piece of
furniture they’d have too many stains on me to keep. I’m disposable to them.
I’m just in their way.

Chapter 10

The wall street broker or the self styled banker. The cab driver or the
bartender. The piss drunk punk or the punk who wanted piss drunk sex. The
millionaire or the poor bum on the corner of 4th and 5th.
Lynn had more choices than any girl and I got to see them leave broken
back and naked.
It was so comical that I got bored out of my head laughing sometimes.
I had to keep myself busy which is one of main reasons I befriended Toby.
I didn’t intend for it to end up how it did, but it’s comforting know
now that he kept me happy the whole time. His dark humor enlightened my dark
We started to talk when he started hooking up with Lynn more. And
since she never took his clothes the opportunity came when she’d take some
other asshole’s clothes and me and Toby chuckled at the poor guy’s humiliation.
That’s what brought us together. But I still hated him a little bit. I
couldn’t stand him but I wouldn’t do anything to act upon it. I could hide
it from him.
We would stand outside of Lynn’s door, sipping out of our porcelain
coffee cups to be able to stay awake, waiting to catch of glimpse of each
guy’s face when she tossed him out into the cold, wretched evening filled
with our laughter and his tears.
This happen four or five times each and every night.
The weird thing was once I met Toby, I didn’t miss as much sleep.
I didn’t covet my dreams and I didn’t want to lie on my bed nor did I want
to put my head on my pillows. I never wanted to have one of those quiet, sad
evenings where I cleaned my room again.
I still hated them sort of. I wanted to pull my hair out and scream
each night they moaned and violently moved forward with each other.
Sometimes I forgot they were here and I’d walk around in only a rope,
hoping to make myself a delicious breakfast and read my paper in silence,
and then I’d realize it all when a different type of sausage was hanging
from a stiff naked body next to my plate.
With no sleep, I intended to continue my everyday work ethic.
Unfortunately, without sleep you can’t function normally. I’d fall asleep at
my desk. My boss would wake me up and yell at me. It was wrong to sleep at
work. But it was just equally as wrong to restrain my body from a natural
It was a double candle. It’s when a candle sits directly above
another candle. As one runs out onto the other one, it drips the wax than
later passes the flame. The torch. It keeps going, in another sense, the
recurrences won’t stop.
No one at work could stand me. I snapped at little situations, like
the copier stopping because of no paper or excessive chatter of Jim’s mouth
and eventually I stopped treating anyone as if I liked them. I told them the
truth because I didn’t feel it necessary to lie about my feelings for them. I
wasn’t going to give the effort. I had nothing left in me. My life had been
robbed and now, empty. I had nothing to give and I wasn’t pretending. I was
just being raw.
I shoved the truth right down their little throats.
Yes, those are black smudges under my eyes. Yes, I don’t care. Yes,
you can’t relate. Just try to live my life with Lynn and Toby making fuck
stains on your couch, on your walls, on your dresser, on your floor, on your
mind and in your life! Just try and puke after smelling the strong body odor
that comes after two bodies have laid their skin onto each other’s and
viciously pushed and pulled their way into a short rush of pure bliss.
This is what happens when sleep is no longer an element in my pitiful
life. I have become sick and twisted behind my pale skin.
This wasn’t the last condom that broke the camel’s fuckin penis until
I started crossing over my home life into my work life. Half the time,
I forgot where I was or even who I was talking to. I just listened to
everything and nodded. That’s all you need to look like the average weary
One day, I flew off the handle at work.
I was so pissed at the revolving situations at my apartment, I
cracked. And I vented on the one person I shouldn’t have.
There I was, face pressed on my keyboard with the letters “G, F, V,
H, Y” being typed on the screen, mind at ease, body clam, and in the mist of
a angelic setting in my head while drooling on the letters “D, F, C”. My name
was shouted and I sat up with a jump.
My boss, Shelia. The big, fat, bitch was here to comment on my new
found habits.
“I’m not paying you to sleep! I can’t believe you would pull such a
stunt! Do you have that paper I told you to write?”
Side effects of no sleep:
1). Short-term memory loss.
“I, uh, forgot about it,” I winced out.
“Well, that is just like you lately. I don’t know what issues you have
to get sorted out, but do it! I think you--
2). Increased risk of irritability.
I cracked.
“No!! You know what?! I can’t believe you think you can bitch about
my habits when you clearly lost control of yours. You look like a weeble
wobble as you saunter on over to each of our cubicles to exploit our flaws.
And everyone know you only do it because you life is so fuckin miserable
that you have to treat your shit job like it’s everything. Well, fuck you.
Fuck you, Shelia.”
“Your fired. Get out. How do you feel about that?!”
“I love it. Best thing you’ve ever said.”
“Don’t ever beg for your job back because it won’t be here!”
“God, I hope your right.”
“Get out!”
I left. When I got home, I realized what the severity of my action
cause me to lose. I had lost my job. I started to panic.
Lynn caught me in the middle of looking in the yellow pages,
frantically scanning for a number to call.
“What are you doing?”
“ lost my job. I need a new one.”
“Why?!” She gave a hint of a chuckle in her voice at my frantic
“Money, Lynn! Unlike you, I pay for things.”
“I pay for some things.”
“Oh, yeah, and I’m the secret sharp shooter from the Grassy Knoll.”
“Whatever.” She walks over next to me. She peers over my shoulder,
judging the page I’m on.
“You know, you’re better off without a job. This way you’ll stop
taking things so seriously.”
“I don’t need any advice from a nymphomaniac, borderline anorexic
and drug- influenced, impulsive psycho.” I said.
“I’m not impulsive.”
No, you’re a sunken ship, without effort this comes out of my mouth.
Clever of me to use that. Mmhm, what else? Well, my dear fuckin Lynn, you’re
a car pile up in the middle of a intersection full of heavy traffic that
keeps emerging.
“Where’s Toby?” She asked.
“I don’t know. I thought you lovebirds were still engaging in your
oral fixations.”
“No. I haven’t seen him in days.”
“Then who’s in there?”
“I don’t know his name.”
Or, my shit love, you’re the center of flaming pile of shit, you
just keep burning, like your cigarettes.
Indeed, I said. I raised my eyebrows to her.
“Not yet.”
Then I’m sorry, I spun at her.
“For not caring.” That was so insensitive. It felt rejuvenating to
hear her be insulted.
“I hate you.”
Maybe, my sweet fuckin heart, you’re just a plane crash into the
ocean, leaving only one survivor to rot next to his fellow passengers,
cadavers in their seats.
“I hate you too, sweet cheeks.”
She storms off into one of my rooms. She slams the door and yells
at some poor slug to get out. He’s pushed out, naked and still half asleep.
He stares at the door a minute and then looks to me. He smiles. Most of the
guys I saw, slumped away in heavy embarrassment. He seemed proud.
“It was totally worth it.”
Possibly, my burnt skeleton, my thin orgasm, my small ache, my flat,
cruel, sleepless, empty nightmare, you could be the thriving whole in the
center of my being, screaming and scraping the chalkboard with your nails,
you don’t stop.
“Why?” I hiss to him.
“It’s always worth it when you get a chick like that, who gives an
orgasm like that.”
Gross. Utterly revolting.
I get up and walk into my room.
I don’t want to know anything about Lynn’s sex life. I don’t want
to know who she fucks anymore. I don’t want to laugh. I don’t want to care.
I want sleep. I want my dreams. I want my job back.
You’re a double candle, infinite supply of bones and filth, orgasmic,
tiny piece of my white whale, and you, my huge pair of red lips, my pack of
cigarettes, my little invasion, are my dreaming corpse.
Lynn told me later that Toby wasn’t at my place at all that day
because he was on a crack cocaine binge.
The binge only lasted three days because that’s how much his money
got him. He said, “A drug can only last a short period of time because it
artificially resembles perfection and everyone know perfection never lasts
long enough, but just a taste makes you thrive for more. Hence addictions.”
I wanted his views on life. I wanted his ability to be free and simple.
I wanted to lack all the necessities that come along with the fancy job and
the high priced suit and the reputation that says you’re a valuable member of
society who measured by the size of their wallet.
Nothing for Toby was filtered. He saw things for what they were and he
didn’t bully inadequacies. He didn’t have to make himself feel better with
accessories, he could just get a kick out of anything for a day and be happy.
I liked him better than Lynn.
He had little jobs that paid him to the point where he was able to
binge every once in awhile on a drug. He liked to mix it up. He loved change.
To him, change was always neutral, neither bad nor good.

Chapter 11

I woke up, drooling on the yellow pages. I must have fallen asleep. I hadn’t
slept in years, or what it felt like had been.
I stand up. I drop the book on the floor. I just don’t care. I’ll
pick it up later. I grab a cup of old coffee. It has a cigarette in it. I
can only guess it was once held between Lynn’s lips, or in between her boney
I rub my feet against the ground to the door, to lazy to pick them
up. I twist the knob and pull the door open. I look outside the hallway of
my floor. I don’t even have to look for it, my paper is right there, by my
feet, on the ground, waiting. I hear whistling. Toby comes sauntering down
the hall to this door. He’s swinging a bat with his arms down, like he’s
“What were you doing?” I ask strongly.
“Uhh, well, I just . . . I was at . . . “ He smiles cleverly. He
raises his shoulders and his hands. He jerks one eyebrow up and just smiles.
He starts laughing.
“Wait! Is that? No, wait, is that my bat?”
“I don’t remember. Could be.” He chuckles harder.
“You took my bat? I need that. It was mine.” Everything was mine.
Nothing was theirs. They took everything their hands could reach. This
can only end when hell freezes over.
“Uh, well . . . Yeah.”
“Is that blood?” I grab it and switch it over to see the red spot
more closely. “What the fuck, Toby? Why is there blood on my bat?”
“Whoa, wait. Hold on, no, I got this.” He steps back and thinks
for a second. “Shit, I got nothing. I forgot, man.”
“Are you kidding?! This is new! This blood just came from something!
What was it? What’d you do?”
“What are you doing today?” He asks out of nowhere. I sigh. I won’t
get an answer.
“Uh, looking for a job, I guess. I don’t know, I haven’t decided yet.
Why do you ask?!”
“I was going to go take some pictures or get money and Lynn told me
to bring you along. Have you got anything planned?”
“Perfect.” He slyly grins. He remembers what Lynn says, but not what
he just did. He hands me the bat. “I’ve got to change my pants.” I didn’t
even notice the countless other blood stains on his pants. I wasn’t going
to ask anyway. It didn’t matter.
One of Toby’s little jobs was working at a shitty movie store for
people who either like old time classics or cheap Indian shit. He hated it.
He asked me to just watch him for a day. He wanted me to make sure he didn’t
yell too much at a customer. He thinks the customer is always an asshole
because, to them, their opinion, whatever be, is right.
I flipped through a magazine behind the desk as Toby sold shitty
movies to assholes.
“Toby, are you religious?” I asked.
“Why not?”
“One, I don’t accept labels and two, religions never fully understand
themselves so people can perceive them in any form and in any mixture.”
“I’m Jewish, but I don’t believe any of it, not for a minute.”
“The why do you consider yourself still a Jew?”
“Same reason anybody else would. If your born to a Jewish family,
your Jewish. To the uninformed individual Judaism is considered a ethnicity.”
“That’s fucked up! What are you reading?”
“This. __________.”
“Dirty. I like it.”
“It all looks airbrushed to me.”
“Look, dude America’s airbrushed. Get used to it.”
“That’s a bold statement.” The customer in front of us buying his
shit film is repulsed.
“I don’t think that’s true.” He whimpered out.
“Are you sure?” Toby asked.
“Yes. America is a faithful country, one of the bests. People come
here to experience our freedom.”
“It seems to me you seem to assume that the news tell you the truth.”
“Is there a doubt they don’t?”
“I’m sure they could and I’m sure they have.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, for one, did you know there are more protests for this war
than the Vietnam War?”
“Well, how would you? The news doesn’t let you know this. They tell
you every time a gang banger shoots at some people, but the walk outs and
protests of today aren’t what anyone wants to hear. America’s airbrushed
whether you want to accept it or ignore it. But, hey, I don’t care. Things’ll
fall apart, just you wait.”
“I’m going to kick your ass if you continue this.”
“Why? Aren’t I expressing the freedom of speech? It’s a natural right
as told by the founders of this country who’s ideals have long been pushed
“Shut up!”
“Sir, you are really affirmative with that ignorant demand?”
At that second, the bastard hick punched Toby in the jaw. Toby hit
the ground with a bang as blood ran out of his mouth. I stood up and helped
him up. He didn’t even need my help because he sprung around and jabbed the
customer in the stomach with his fist. The guy fell on a cart containing the
newest Mathew Moughhanty movies.
“Fuck man, that felt great. I’ve been meaning to punch someone lately.”
“You should do it sometime. It feels good. A real pick-me-up.”
“You mean, punch someone?”
“Why not?”
“It’s cruel.”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s unethical.”
“It’s completely neutral.”
This could go on for hours. I had to punch someone. If I knew how
good it felt later, I would have punched every single son of a bitch at my
I told Toby I had to leave after the fight scene with the customer.
He made me a deal, if I left now, I’d have to meet him up in black outside
of his apartment. I found out where he lived and then proceeded to leave the
movie store.
I had no idea what he was going to make me do, but I could tell it
involved me doing something illegal. With Toby, everything was legal.
After waiting for half an hour, Toby showed up with a six pack of
beers under his arm. I didn’t want one, but he forced it on me.
I was getting inpatient.
He told me to wear black and drink beers, I had to ask.
“What are we doing?”
“We’re are getting drunk, obviously.”
It was starting to get cold and I didn’t want to be drunk in the cold.
If only I was at home, in my bed, sleeping with my dreams and living in
fuckin peace in my life. I want to sit on those nude beaches I had dreamt
of and lay in the sand.
“No, I mean. Uh, what are we going to do? Why did you ask me to wear
“So no one would bother us.” I never followed his logic.
“What makes you think they won’t bother us?”
“Cuz’ in black we look like criminals.”
“No, we don’t. We look like a couple of drunk hicks.”
“We’re not drunk yet.”
I want to forget Lynn and her life sticking it’s moans and orgasms
into my life, and I want to forget I know Toby and forget him blabbing about
his ideals hoping to rub them off on my morals.
“Toby, what the fuck are we doing out here? You told me to come here
and wear black and drink beers and now what? What do you have planned?”
“First of all, plans are for idiots. Second, just wait. I’ll think of
“Is this one of your little jobs?”
“Maybe.” He wasn’t going to inform me of anything. He was going to
let me keep guessing until I gave up.
And if forgetting moved into my life, stinking up my home and my
things, fuckin around with my head and my job, if that’s impossible, then,
please, I want to know nothing when I’m around them. I want to be as close
to dead as I can. Just dreaming and just silent.
An hour passed, and I wasn’t drunk. Who can get drunk off of three
beers? Toby seemed on a buzz. Not drunk, not sober.
I asked him if I could leave. He said no sternly.
“I’m ready.” He said.
“For what?”
“You ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“Look, I need money and I can get it, but I need your help. It’ll do
you good to get out.”
“What? Get out of where?”
“You know, yourself. Live on the edge a little. Be me in the
simplest of terms.”
“Thank you Dr. Clepto, but I don’t need your advice.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“No, I really don’t right now. I need a job.”
“No, no, no. Come on let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“On the road.”
“What for?”
“Well . . . ”
One of Toby’s job included his friend, who lived two towns over.
Toby would have to drive his friend’s car over there and then hitchhike or
whatever back to my place. He wanted me to come along.
I refused at first, but what else did I have to do tonight?
The car was shitty, an old lime green Volkswagen. The little piece
of shit was covered in peace signs and smelled like hippies got high in the
backseat. I hated it. I wanted to dive out the window and roll onto the road
and get asphalt imprinted on my skin as a tattoo.
Toby was strangely quiet on the ride. He seemed to wait for me to
“I should try to get my job back.”
“Didn’t you hate it?”
“Yeah, but I need money. Everybody needs money.”
“So, I got to get my job back.”
“Forget about it. You hated it. It wasn’t meant for you. Choose
something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Do what Lynn does?”
“I’m not going to fuck men each night.”
“No, I mean, bartend.”
“I didn’t know she bartends.”
“You’d be great for it. Pour drinks and get tips. The best thing
about it no asshole boss yelling at you.”
“Maybe, but I spent four years at a college, and I was planning to
spend the next twenty years getting ready for the day when I could retire
and relax.”
“You can relax now.”
“On what?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sooner or later my bank account will be empty and I’ll need a job.”
“Then bartend.”
This was going in circles.
“Nevermind. How much longer?”
“Ten minutes. Can you do me a favor?”
“Can you get my camera out of the bag on the backseat?”
“Yeah, sure.”
The camera was an old fashioned, big lens, black and white one. I
preferred recycle ones.
I didn’t find out until later, but Toby took pictures of everything.
He had photos of Lynn walking, Lynn smoking, Lynn’s hands, her lips, her
smoke, her feet, her hair and her eyes. He took pictures of me eating
breakfast and reading the paper. He took pictures of drugs, of dealers, of
cops, of cars, of streets, of buildings, of garbage, and of anything he saw.
He said life should be documented despite whether it was bad or good.
I handed him the camera and he pulled over to the side of the road.
I watched him get out of the car and walk back ten feet or so. I got out of
the car and followed him.
He had the camera hanging from his neck. He stopped. I ran up behind
him. He took a picture, waited a second and walked back to the car.
The animal was disfigured. It’s intestines were stretched over it’s
legs onto the asphalt. The blood marks on the road had turned a faded orange
color. Maggots ate in every corner of its insides. Its eyes seemed distraught.
The paw of the animal had tiny claws big enough to scratch through a trash can.
The head was turned facing the cars passing by us. The stench invaded my
clothes and stung my nostrils.
I stared at it longer, wanting to look away, but not having the guts
to. Toby stood by the back of the car staring at me. He was waiting for me to
finish. I like to think now that he knew there was a dead animal there and that
I would have wanted to see it.
I saw nothing and everything in the creature. I saw life and death
combined at its last impressions. I saw me. I had been dead for almost thirty
years, just passing by and waiting for a mid life crisis to wake me up and
now, now I stood waiting to move again.
I backed away slowly and then started to come back to my senses and
I ran closer to the car. I ran to push everything I ever did behind me and put
closure on a once pathetic life.
I got back into the car and Toby drove away.
He had taken a picture of a dead rabbit.
He handed the photo to me.
“What you thinking?”
“I don’t know.”
I don’t know why I thought of my job again, but maybe it caught up
to me when I ran from it.
“I should get my job back.”
“You’re pathetic!!”
“I set this up for you and you’re still pissing and whining over
that stupid fucking occupation.”
“Oh, at least I earn my money instead of ripping off dealers, fucking
Lynn, and going on a drub binge every week.”
“Oh what the fuck ever! At least I’m free. You, you tie yourself down
to society’s rules and expectations. I need a job because everyone says I do.
Fuck you.”
“Fuck me?”
“Yeah, fuck you. You should be doing something you like, not something
you hate but need for financial purposes.”
“Shut up.”
“You know I’m right. I’ve been right this whole time.”
“Dude, listen. The only way to truly live, is to completely die
once. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know. I should kill myself.” I didn’t care for what he had
to say.
No, listen again. Why is it to truly live, you have to fully die? Why
is that so?! What does that mean for you?!”
“I don’t know! I should try harder to be myself.”
“No! It means stop living like this and give up. Stop everything
and just give up! Die! And then start over without returning to your passive
aggressive ways! ACUNA FUCKIN MATATA!!! No worries anymore!! Not about your
job! Not about anything!! Just live everyday like your first day free. You
can do anything without those false restrictions you’re always setting up!! So
fuckin let go already!!” He had yelled at me so hard that the vein in his
neck was popping out and his face was bloody red. He looked gritty.
“Fine. How do I let go? I just stop caring, huh? I just give up and
start over? That easy? You must think I’m okay with that?!”
“You don’t have to do what other people say, just listen, not hear
them, listen. Take it in.” He was talking normal now, not shouting as if he
was okay that I didn’t really agree with him still. It sort of convinced me.
I wouldn’t let him know that yet. I didn’t want to back down to him that soon.
I had to let it sink in for awhile, then I could thank him properly.
The car came to a stop at a red light. I pushed the door open and left
the car. I walked only a block before I heard Toby chasing me. I wanted to run,
but I didn’t have it in me. For some reason, I wanted to hear what he would
I stopped and turned to face him. He took a picture of me and handed
it to me. He took another one and another one. I grabbed his camera and threw
it to the ground.
“You’re actually getting mad now instead of pushing it down.”
“That’s my problem?”
“Out of many.”
I blew a fuse. He smiled and I punched him on his cheek bone. He
stumbled back and looked around. After he gathered his senses, he grinned
to me. I punched him again.
“Yeah, get it out! Let it all out!”
I punched him more and more until my fists bled more than his nose.
He hit the wall of a building as he turned away from me. His face
slid against the hard rock and started to bleed and puff up.
“Shit! Ow! That’s good. Nice job. Aw, that really hurt.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“Oh, yeah, I wouldn’t be either.”
I laughed. He did too and then all of the sudden a mass array of
chuckles sprung over us.

Chapter 12

Toby told me “Nothing ever came close to what it originally was except at
birth.” I love that line.
I didn’t miss any part of what I had had and now I realize I was
never really happy during that whole period. I was just being normal. I was
pretending to think it was as good as I could get. I was procrastinating
until my mid life crisis came along. I was praying it would hit sooner just
so I had something to do. Just so I could take a deep breath and watch
everything I built up fall to the ground and shatter.
Now, without sleep, I had nothing to wait for. Everyday was just
itself. Nothing was planned and nothing was decided. And I can honestly say
it felt good not caring what could happen the next day.
It is truly a great feeling when you know nothing’s worth the ignominy
of risking any precious moment as it comes. I can now watch those magnificent
wonders pass before me and smile.
Life isn’t about jobs you have to work for to get nor is it about
accessories that amount to whatever we’re told it should. It’s just a wonder.
I stopped taking things seriously and looked at them for what they
were. No labels and no judgments. I was able to see clearly with Toby and
Lynn disrupting my life. That may sound different but it is true.

Sunday morning. I had just finished reading the paper when I went to go see
if Lynn was fucking Toby just so I could see if he would want to hang out
with me.
There was nothing in her room, not even her. It was empty.
The only thing that proved she was once here was a pack of her
PlayBird Cigarettes. I took one out of the pack and went to get m lighter
out of the kitchen. I smoked one and relaxed. I breathed out and in.
Lynn was gone. No note, not one clue. Toby left with her.
Occasionally, I see him now walking around taking pictures, but I
don’t go up and greet him. I’m a new person. He wouldn’t recognize me. I
wouldn’t even recognize me now.
I was glad to have Lynn out of my life and into hers. She did visit
me one last time asking me for some money. She told me she left because I had
sorted everything out and we were now the same person. She had to move on.
She said she was glad I did or she never would have.
I still might not get it. I still can’t sleep without wanting to fall
asleep listening to her shouts and a deeper voice’s grunts. That’s why I
purchased a DVD player and put it in Lynn’s old room to be able to play porn
at maximum volume. I fall asleep like a baby that way, but it still isn’t
the same.
I bought myself a camera the other day. I left it sitting on my kitchen
counter for a week before I even used it. I had to think of what to take
pictures of first.
I still have the picture of the dead rabbit and my angry face ready
to punch Toby. It’s taped to the wall by my bed.
I went on a walk and saw a dead bird the other day. I wanted to take
a picture, but I thought I don’t need a picture to remind myself of anything
although it would’ve been nice to have the bird accompany the rabbit and
I don’t need anything. I do what is good for that day now.
After I lost my job, things took a fall, but I kept myself up. My
landlord asked me to leave on account of I stopped paying him. He didn’t
like that, not a bit.
I’m at New Sunny Roads Center For Rehabilitation. The programs
aren’t helping. I’m happy despite this place.
I not taking things seriously until I’m going to be forced to. It’ll
be a good few more years before I have to do anything.
Click Here for more stories by Rochelle Rose Jones