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The camera quickly cuts to a deadpan news anchor, “uh, uh, as it seems someone has been shot at the presidential address. We will keep you informed about these events as facts come to light, uhm but we will be taking a break as for us to gather what has happened and report it back to you.” He stares out of my TV waiting for the camera to pan away.
I just stare at the screen, too surprised this even happened.
A woman appears on the screen promising that Petish Britrolium has learned its lesson and that it will be a responsible adult from now on. And has not ruined an entire ocean.
The anchorman returns on the screen. “Preliminary reports from our field reporter at the briefing has informed us that the woman shot is Edith Frank, a mother of one of the protesters that died tragically in yesterday’s events.”
He turns to a different camera with a split screen of the reporter.
“Welcome Terry, I would just like to start off with saying that I’m glad you’re alright, what can you tell us about what Edith was looking for in her purse?”
“Well as it turns out she was reaching for a picture of her daughter to show the president. After secret service subdued her they quickly transporter her to a nearby hospital where she will most likely, at least form the wounds I saw be in critical condition.”
“Ok thank you for your reporting on this. Our thoughts go out to Edith’s family as they go through this very tough time.”
I hear my mailbox flap open and clamp shut through the door. I feel my pulse rising, my hands shaking almost unnoticeably but it’s chilling. I stand walking to the door. Please, please just let it be junk mail. I open my door retrieving the mail. Sitting right on top an envelope with the word NOTICE in large red letters. I don’t suppose they’re talking about the sexy singles in my area. I rip it open. Dear Mr. McHenry according to our records you are behind on your current mortgage. I stop reading after the first line. It’s been the same stuff every time. You need to make a payment of blah, blah, blah. If you do not do so your house will be blah, blah, blah. Each letter only changes in how strongly they word it.
Quickly tossing it into the trash I sit back down on the couch. They can’t just kick me out can they? You’d think it would be illegal to make someone one homeless.
CHAPTER…
CNN
“As you can see behind in the aerial shots there is about half a million people whom have taken to the streets here in Oakland. There have been reports of intermittent confrontations of rioters with the police and the Nation Guard. Law enforcement officials have come under scrutiny in controlling these protesters, they have changed in only responding with force for those displaying aggression towards then, and not for such things as jay walking and blocking of roads as they were just a two days ago. The tension on the streets has grown exponentially since the events of this evening’s press conference. Many people here holding pictures of the woman whom was shot by the secret service and subsequently died and many others are holding pictures of her daughter. We have also seen protester hurling teddy bears at the police and National Guard. Chants against how the police and government are handling these protests and with an overall attitude that there is a right to protest and organize so long as no one actually does so.”
A small explosion behind the reported she screams falling out of frame.
“Are, are you alright?” A news anchor asks.
“Yes, yes I am fine. Here get a shot of this,” she tells the cameraman. He zooms in as protesters shoot what looks like fireworks and molitov cocktails at a battalion of police in riot gear.
“As you can see,” She pauses; shakily taking deep breathes into her microphone.
“As you can see behind me it appears that there has been an escalation in tonight’s events.”
Taking shelter behind a dumpster the cameraman zooms in on the protesters, or rioters I guess.
“It appears that protesters are trying to push back the police line, hurling molitov cocktails and uhh, fireworks, Juan is… uh are they throwing fireworks?” She ask the camera man
“Si,” he replies.
Short burst of gunfire erupt from the police line sending hundreds of the protesters running as a few fall bruised and bloodied from the rubber bullets. Long arcs of light from the tails of fireworks quickly followed by molitovs and handgun fire. A few policeman panic trying to put out one of the men hit by a molitov. A rather large and on fire teddy bear lands in front of the police line. Marching forward the policed shooting around their riot shields. The protesters taking the barrage for just a second or two until it’s totally clear they’ve fucked themselves and retreat back into the massive rally.
Half shutting my eyes I awkwardly try to tilt my head back trying to find a comfortable position, like the hundreds of seniors at the mall accidently falling asleep on those uncomfortable half plastic half wood benches.
The coffee table begins to rumble, my phone attempting to commit suicide by jumping off. Jesus it’s midnight. I open it half expecting to just see an offer from my wireless company trying to get me to upgrade to the next greatest thing to grace earth’s digital face. But I’m wrong; it’s her, Grace she’s calling. She’s calling right now, on the eve of the first day of her more or less single life. And let the over analyzing begin, I think as I answer the phone.
“Hello?”
“Will? O Will you’re awake, you’re alive!” She slurs in her best mid 19th century British accent, obviously drunk as hell.
“I suppose so, what’s up?”
“Well I was just sitting here enjoying a fine double malted bottle of tequila using my 18th century aged box of wine to chase said fine tequila when I realized in my drunken stupor.” She pausing laughing at herself.
“What, what epiphany have you had?”
“I realized in my drunken stupor the medication I had ingested not two hours ago and subse… Subsequently forgot about. And how that once mixed with alcohol a quite dire situation may occur to said person.”
“Jesus what are you talking about?”
“Well a long and arduous battle of alcohol and pills will soon be taking place in my blood stream, and I was hoping I could talk to you as to keep awake hence forth from now.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to go to sleep because I have more or less taken a non prescribed dose of Jesus juice. And having done so a few months ago I now realize the projectile possibilities of said combination.”
“So you’re afraid to fall asleep because you might choke on you own vomit. Am I getting this right?”
“Eureka! Although a quite brash way to put my so eloquently stated dilemma my dear Wilson.”
“Jesus, should I come over?”
“Post haste, although I suppose the longer you take technically the wine you will be drinking with me will taste a little better with each passing minute.”
“I’ll head over, you going be alright till I get there?”
“Absotivly a metabolic process of such… metaboliii dam I swear I was going somewhere with that.”
“I’m heading over,” I say smiling into the phone and hang up.
Grabbing my keys I… I sprint to my car. I don’t know why
Whoa, whoa there Will, what’s the plan.
I pause hoping something will come to me... Nothing.
Do… do you make a move? She’s drunk as hell; it would probably be taking advantage of. But she did seem to be… it sounded like she was ahh, hinting to something.
O a drunk girl hinting and flirting over the phone, that’s new.
God, Will stop that, it’s not helping. Just play it by ear, you know, just take it for what it is. Get over there and drink and whatever happens, happens and you will… I pause, something feels off. Nothing to do with Grace or my dilemma more… more like something’s wrong, I feel it floating through the air. I stand there, a slight humming floats to me. Then I feel it, little tiny almost microscopic vibrations flowing thro
ugh the air. I stand there in silence as it slowly builds. A tiny dot breaks the night sky just over the top of my neighbors. Then one after the other, about a hundred little lights and flashing things appear over the house. Every crazy UFO documentary fills my head as I watch these lights slowly grow, like they’re floating to me. Jesus if they are aliens I deserve to get probed for just standing here.
The vibrations filling my stomach as I feel the change in my pocket start to jingle, mixing with my keys. I stand, stunned really as a wave of helicopters swarm overhead. Dozens of them or so. In an instant the winds shifts blowing straight down on top of me as they careen overhead going west.
CHAPTER…
“Hello?” I ask walking in.
“I’m back here!” She yells to me from what is probably her room. Buttery butterflies swarm my stomach.
I turn down the hallway, “how are you feeling?” I ask.
“Very well thank you,” she says exiting her room in the midst of putting on her shirt. A flash of stomach and bra appears and disappears in an instance forever engraved in the brain.
“Oh, I saved some wine!” She cheers to me wrapping me in a hug.
“Thank you, for coming, it’s probably nothing but I just want to play it safe.” (The first and probably only sober sounding thing I will hear tonight.)
“I have acquired the greatest movie to watch.”
“Let me guess Star Ship Troopers?”
“Ah,” she smiles “not quite although it is a very good, cultured film. But no I have rented twilight! The perfect film that if one was to suddenly vomit into the air it would not be a complete surprise.”
“Wait, you really want to watch it?”
“Well as to the fact my cable has been shut off, and I don’t have anything else to watch it’s really the only thing to watch. We can just make fun of it!”
“I suppose we can make it work.” I tell her
“Great!”
She runs over to the TV popping the disk in as we take our places on her run down couch. The kind that no matter how you sit on it a magical sinkhole appears, forcing the two people on it to sit next to each other. So it might just be my favorite couch in the world right now. I sit down in the middle as Grace hops, stumbles, than hops again over to me. She sits down immediately falling into me. Laughing she adjusts herself as I try my best to have our bodies touch as much as possible without her noticing.
“Would you like some Tequila?”
“I suppose so.”
She starts to dig into the couch cushions. “I was about to pass out before I called you and I think it sank into the couch somewhere.” She struggles then pulls out a cheap plastic bottle. Winsworth premium styled tequila. What the hell is premium style? I wonder as she hands it to me her face beaming.
“What are you smiling about?”
“I have absolutely no idea,” she laughs.
The opening credits begin to roll through, a silent void growing in the room as I prepared for the mind numbingly corrosive take on super natural love and what any normal person would consider a caustic take on what it truly means to be young and in love. Staring at the screen acting overly interested in the movie as my mind draws blanks on where or how to take this night in a proverbial step forward.
The beginning credits finally coming to a close, derailing my train of thought. Shit Will you’re gona make this a boring night you need to make a move. Ahhhh I faintly sigh in my head, trying to think around it, but it crescendos into a roarish scream. Your arm! Just put your arm around her! Brilliant, subtle enough and something you can work your way up from. Casually stretching as what has been made apparent in my favorite movies as the best way to perform such a maneuver. I pull my arm around her, turning to look deeply into her eyes; I’m met with close ones and soft snores. God she passed out! What the hell she was here just a second ago. Her head tilted back and mouth slightly open as gasps of air flow in and out.
God I’m such a… such a smuck I guess. Removing my arm, feeling like I’m the biggest piece of crap in the world for trying to get with the girl who called me because she might die from being so drunk. Like some crappy documentary “Rapist the beginning years” I think.
Standing from the couch Grace limply slides down in between the cushions. Well I can definitely say that out of all the directions I could have planned for this never made the list.
Graces breathe stutters for a second choking on god knows. Crap, what do I do? She did kinda have a reason to ask you over Will. Ya but, how would it look if she wakes up in the morning and she’s just like, what the hell are you doing here Will? Or I could leave and she dies trying to reenjoy her dinner?
Deciding to do a little of both I lug Grace from out of the couch. She stirs a little but doesn’t come to. Rolling her onto her side shoving pillows under her until she seems stable enough to not roll over and choke on her own puke. I begin to make my graceful exit out the door. As soon as my foot hits the top step I hear her move. Turning around to what looks like her choking. O Jesus or fuck! I think as I run to the kitchen grabbing a dinner plate (dumb I know but the first thing I saw) I run back to her at the beginning stages of an all puke marathon. She shakes and convulses, as I hold the dinner plate under her chin, it quickly filling with the nastiness catching and running down my forearms. I pull out my phone to dial 911, when she suddenly stops. Laying there like nothing happened, gently snoring once more. Quickly turning around and running to the kitchen I dump the plate rinsing it of what has to be a terrible mixture of tequila, wine, and umm it looks like pizza. I hold down my own vomit as the smell hits me.
Sanitize! Sanitize! My brain screams at me as I drop the plate and focus on my forearms, taking everything in reach with a 99.99 percent labeled on it, I mix them in my hand reenacting every doctor show where they scrub up before surgery.
After sterilizing myself to my satisfaction I grab an entire roll of paper towels heading back to Grace, still unmoved. Huh, the plate was a dumb idea but I was able to catch most of it. I dab at the few spots I had missed until you can’t even tell what sort of massacre had just taken place.
Sitting against the couch I put my head down next to Graces. I figure when I fall asleep and she deicide to choke again it’ll probably wake me up.
My eyes start to close, the glow of the television slowly swimming in and out of my eyes. I love this part of falling asleep. The half dreaming half reality, caught between worlds where everything is just a little bit softer, a little bit gentler.
CHAPTER...
My eyes slowly open. There's a light above me. It's hard to see, my eyes still fuzzy from sleeping. It's raining, not hard just lightly sprinkling. My vision begins to clear as the light slowly forms into a streetlight. It’s hard to tell with the complete blanket of clouds but it looks to be early morning. What? Did… did I sleep walk? I roll over, the couch has been replaced with a black top street with me smack dab in the middle of the right lane. What in the hell? Struggling to get to my feet feeling as if they are in quick sand. Slowly standing up, I look around. I know this street; I'm two blocks from my old church. Wait a second, I turn. I look to the intersection where my parents had their accident. God I’ve avoided this part of town for months, three to be exact. What the hell? How did I end up here?
You have to get back to Grace and make sure she’s ok, I think to myself. I turn my back to the intersection; the vision of my parents’ mangled truck flowing through my head. I start walking towards the trailer park. It's weird the streets are absolutely deserted. I mean it's a small town but there are always people out and about. The rain slowly becoming heavier with each step I take. Dam this makes no sense. How the hell did I get here? I see a truck coming from up the road. The first sign of life to be seen. I step out onto the curb hoping I can get them to give me a ride. They are about a block away as I start to wave my arms over my head. Hey, please stop, I want you to stop, I need you to stop, I say to myself. They are about half a block away n
ow and not slowing down at all. You bastards, I think. Wait, something's weird. The truck is exactly like my dad’s. They get closer finally getting a good look at who’s driving my heart stops. It's him; behind the wheel, my dad. “Wait, WAIT!” I scream “NO DON”T GO, SLOW DOWN!” I see my mother and him arguing as they drive by me. Sprinting as fast as I can. “STOP! Please for God’s sake, please don't go through that stop sign.” I run flat out as my dad misses the sign. Instantly blindsided by a garbage truck on the driver side, sending the truck rolling. Not breaking stride I watch as glass and trash fly through the air, “O GOD NO, please no!” It's pouring now, getting heavier, the closer I get to the mangled mess that was my fathers’ truck. Old newspapers and fast food bags swirls around me as I look towards my dad’s truck blood already covering the windshield. I reach them. Grabbing the handle I rip open the driver side door. Blood and glass everywhere but my parents are gone. What where did they go? I shut the door looking to see if they flew out the window or something. Racing around the car I look. They are nowhere to be found. I turn to the garbage truck. “Where did they go!?” I yell, but get no response. I sprint to it, the driver side door already open. Did you see them, my parents?” I ask looking into the truck, but it's empty. Blood on the windshield but no one in it. I stutter step back. Just in time to hear a horn coming from my right side I turn as another garbage truck comes straight at me. No time to act, no time to run or jump out of the way. My entire body tenses as I brace for impact.
Complete darkness. Did, did I die? Am I dead? I wonder. Is this where we go when we die? Just darkness? I feel this void travel though my veins settling in my stomach. Has all this praying been for nothing? Was it all just a game? To make me feel better? That there is a purpose to life? Wait, a distant light slowly fades into my view. O thank God, I ironically say under my breath. It slowly becomes brighter, bigger, more defined. It's a square light with the softest buzzing coming from it. Why is it square? I’ve always imagined a circle, like a tunnel, the tunnel of light, right? Well obviously it's a door Will I tell myself. I try to start walking to it but am unable to move my feet as it continues to get closer. Alright God you can come to me. Stopping about ten feet from me serenading me with its soft buzzing. “He. Hel... hello?” I ask into it. No response. “Is there anyone there? Please I would really like some support here, dying is already stressful enough.” No response just the ever so soft buzzing coming from it. The light slowly grows brighter. Filling in the space around me. What is going on? Chairs tables and a sign suggesting a meal with fries and a drink appear around me. The entire lobby of my McDanalds slowly comes into view. I'm lying on my back directly in front of the cash register. I try and get my bearings looking to the clock on the wall but it's just an empty white circle. Hm I look around and nothing is defined. The coke machine has lost its words. And the sign are just outlines of happy meal toys. What the fuck it going on here? I struggle to my feet. I look outside and it's pitch black not even the streetlights are on and I can't even see the gas pumps outside. Oookkaayy? Turning to the grill I notice none of the ceiling lights are on. Only the faint glow of blank monitors and timers glowing greens and reds giving just enough light to give everything a silhouette.