The dream was vivid. It was a version of me I hadn’t seen in
too many years. There was a genuine smile on my face because I was surrounded
by family and friends. I don’t ever have conversations in my dreams that I can
remember so all I can recall is sitting in a room greeting people, some of whom
I didn’t remember, but whom I had known before the drugs. There was persistent babble
all around and it sounded like we were under water, but nobody was talking. Then
I pulled out a meth pipe and started smoking it and everybody started to dwindle
away. They weren’t mad at me, I could see them smiling as they faded into the
black, but very quickly I was alone. The last person to leave was my mom. She
was walking away and she turned back to look at me. She was still smiling at me
when she turned into nothing.
I lay in the bed for a few minutes trying to analyze what
happened in my dream. My alarm had gone off and I was fortunate enough to have
had enough sleep to wake in a state of awareness. The thing I really cared
about in the dream was my pipe which I reached under the pillow for. The only
time the drug really had any effect on me was after a decent slumber, and a few
hits made me tingle. I sat up in the bed and judged my surroundings. I saw my
giant bag of crystalized methamphetamine sitting out in the open at the foot of
the bed which was cause for concern. I’m not positive the manager poked his
head in at some point, but I decided it was time for an early check-out.
The only things I ever made sure I had when I performed the
evacuation procedure at a hotel were felonies which included my phone, drugs,
and all paraphernalia to include scales, pipes, and the glass turntable from
the microwave. I didn’t actually take the turntable, I just washed it off
because I didn’t want to be responsible for an accidental poisoning. I opened
up the door to darkness. It would prove to be another clean getaway for Vinnie
the meth dealer.
I hit the road, this time with a buzz that would keep me
awake for a few hours. I grabbed my fully charged phone and dialed the only
number I knew by heart. It rang only once and was answered by a cheerful voice,
“What the fuck do you want?” I replied to Seth, “Your sweet arse.” Silence. I
continued, “We need to meet up. I have some ideas on how to deal with my little
problem.” He sounded excited, “I assume you mean we get to kill them?” I let
out a sinister laugh, “You’re God damned right we do!”
About 45 minutes later I pulled into Seth’s driveway in
Fountain. I had lived in this town many years before and I always enjoyed
reminiscing as I drove through. There was the Broken Hammer Bar and Grill that
I had worked at for a number of years, the place I had met Crystal. There was
the grocery store where I would buy the only bacon that I ever became addicted
to. And there was the apartment above the pizza place where my life as a
criminal began again many years ago. As I drove by I saw a camera I had mounted
to the roof in a state of paranoia years ago. That camera had night vision
which is how I saw the camera the police had mounted and faced toward my
apartment a block down, the reason I left the town for good.
Seth’s house looked like everybody else’s house in the
neighborhood except for the lawn décor. He had a number of used vehicles for
sale in his driveway and on his lawn. To my knowledge, he had never sold one,
but he was always working on them. I got out of my car and found him under the
hood of an old Corolla. “Let’s go inside, we’ve got work to do.” He closed the
hood and we headed inside.
The inside of his house was immaculate, and you could
probably eat off of the floor if you ever decided to eat. We sat on his couch
and suddenly a dog was in my lap and licking my face. It was if she appeared
from thin air. I tried speaking through the K-9 assault, “Setrh, I nbeed a
pristol.” I succumbed to the affection of the dog and rolled her over on her
belly and gave her a good scratching. I repeated, “Seth, I need a gun.” He
pulled a large caliber revolver from his waistband and handed it to me.
