I ask her when she’s coming over and she tells me she has to finish smoking her pack of cigarettes.
A few hours later, she shows up and asks if I have any cigarettes. I remind her I don’t smoke and tell her we’ll get some on the way to the club. She says she’s ready but we both know there’s something we have to do first.
We take off our clothes and wipe each other all over ourselves.
We put different clothes on, as ill-fitting and mismatched as possible.
We douse ourselves in fragrance because now we both smell like cigarettes. I’m pretty sure we use way too much.
Eyes watering, we go in search of tonight’s entertainment.
We wander into what I suspect is a costume party where everyone is wearing the same costume. A man is running a jackhammer in the corner while everyone else runs around doing other things. The volume is deafening. It might be a construction zone. They don’t seem to mind that we’re there. They don’t ask us to leave until I start trying to do construction things and she lights a cigarette.
After a lot of arguing and some minor violence, we decide to leave.
“Ain’t nowhere lets you smoke inside no more,” she says.
We go to a hospital. After driving around for an hour, it’s the only place open besides convenience stores. We’ve been banned from most of those. Various reasons.
When they ask us why we’re there, I tell them I’m dying of boredom and she tells them she’s pretty sure she has lung cancer.
A security guard escorts us out. I try to steal his gun and he gives me a violent beatdown before tossing me out into the parking lot.
She hikes up her skirt and pisses so close to me I can feel the spatter hit my face.
I ask her if she knows smoking can change the smell of your urine.
She tells me tonight’s been a real dud and she’s going back home to smoke and drink until she loses consciousness.
I ask if she can give me a ride home and stumble after her when she says yes. She barely stops the car at my house. I watch her pull away, envious of her cigarettes and booze. I pick up a small stone and hurl it at her car, just because. It doesn’t come anywhere close.
I try to think if I have something in the house that I can do until losing consciousness but can’t think of anything.
It doesn’t really matter anyway because I’ve forgotten how to open my door. I thought it was the same as any other door, but it seems different now.
I curl up under the porch swing and patiently wait for sleep.
I hope I wake up in time to threaten the school children on the way to the bus.
Maybe by then I’ll remember how to open my door.
Maybe I’ll remember what’s inside my house.
Leave a comment