Quandary 12

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.

This, That, and the Other.

I haven't written anything about me for a while. I'm not trying to toot my own horn here because my life really isn't that fascinating anymore, but I feel compelled to keep you all in the loop.

This very moment I'm in the break room at work. I have just finished a sandwich I made before I left the house, and I am at a table listening to two people devouring their microwaved lunches. It's a catastrophe.

Human lips serve many purposes, one of which makes it possible for things to stay in your mouth like food and noises. Neither of the two employees at this table are using their lips properly, but I can't help being fascinated by the situation. It's like they're having a contest to see who can make the worst noise and they are both in first place. But I digress.

Me. So I've been either going to the gym or running for about 40 days straight.... Shit, I skipped Sunday. So I've been going to the gym or running every day since yesterday and I am seeing some results. I don't mean that I can see new muscles, I mean I can see a change in endurance and strength. On Friday I ran a 5K in 29 minutes, that's twice around Como lake. Now that's not going to get me in the Olympics, but it's pretty damn good compared to where I started (again) a month ago. Also, for the first time in my life, even at boot camp, I can bench press my body weight. Actually, I can bench about 20 over my weight, and I keep going up. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

The Quandary: I have heard a lot of comments from you folks and I am happy to keep going with it. It's quite an experience making something out of nothing. It brings me to a dark place, but I know it's fantasy and I can take myself away from it when I choose. Although each post is connected in some way, I like to think 1-10 have their own uniqueness and a story that only belongs to it. That sentence makes sense to me, how did you do with it? I’m starting to see that I’m straying away from reality a little more each time, and I think that’s forward progress.

Hey, I’m home now! What a long day at the laminating factory. I went to the gym after work and ran on the treadmill for a bit and now I have no plans for the rest of the evening so I think I’ll take Willie out for a stroll or out back for a little fetch, who knows.

I really can’t think of anything else I think you need to know about yet but I promise to let you know anything important. But for now, I will keep on writing the Quandary, and see where it goes. Peace.

Quandary 10

This is the tenth in a fictional series of posts that starts here.

I parked in my usual spot less than twelve hours since my previous arrival. Mason and I had a predetermined amount of cash that would prompt the phone call for my visit, and I was well over the line. There was nothing I could do to hide the bruising, and I hadn’t spent any time coming up with a story to explain it and there was no time left. I knocked on the door.

He opened it up and pulled me inside with brute force. He slammed the door shut and pushed me up against the wall, grabbing me by my throat. “What the fuck is wrong with you coming here like this!?” I replied with a lie, “I got into a fight man, it happens!” Quizzically he looked me up and down, “That’s it?” I nodded. I felt his grasp loosen and finally he let go of me. I wondered if I had made a stool in my pants. Mason said with tension in his voice, “Shit man you scared me, I thought you were gonna tell me you got robbed or something. I’m sorry, people are fuckin’ me over left and right lately, I should have known you were good.” More like amazing, I thought. “You look like shit though. You get in a fight with a girl again?” He beamed, I returned the gesture less proportionately and retorted, “Yup. You should see her, not a scratch.” I laughed at my shot at comedy.

I pulled a well-organized wad of folded money out of my pocket. He liked how I always faced my money, and how the number I gave him always matched what was actually there. He always counted it anyhow, it wasn’t a sign of disrespect, it was customary in the drug trade when dealing with any number over $100.

While he was counting the money, I was recounting the evening in my head. What the fuck was I going to do? I had been threatened, beaten, tossed around, and put in a trunk. Twice. My mind was full of half ideas, fractured thoughts, and vengeful plans. None of those would get me out of this mess. There was only one way out. Murder.

And just as my head rolled back in the same direction as my eyes, the burn phone in my pocket that Driver had given me vibrated. It scared me and my whole body jolted awake. Mason could hear the vibrating but it was expected that I wouldn’t answer the phone while I was there so I let it keep going. Silence. I really had to answer that phone, but I couldn’t. Why would they be calling already? I just wanted to sleep. I got up to use the bathroom and when I shut the door behind me I reached into my 5^th pocket and grabbed the last meth-filled capsule and washed it down with a handful of warm tap water. I stood and gazed at the man in the mirror. He was sweating and his eyes were a solar eclipse; two giant black marbles circumferenced by two bright white rings. I realized at that moment why sunglasses were really invented.  He had been through a rough twelve hours, and the pressure would not be relieved anytime soon. The only thing he could not do was fall asleep.

I went back out to the living room to find Mason weighing out a bag for somebody I had never seen before. It was a small bag so I assumed it was nobody of importance. We greeted each other with a simple bow of the head. I sat there patiently and I felt the phone begin to vibrate again. Shit. I looked at Mason and asked with a gesture of the thumb if I could leave and he gave me the thumbs up. I stood and exited his house and reached into my pocket for the phone.

It was Dumpy. “Why didn’t you answer yer fuckin’ phone?” I cringed at the sound of his voice. “I was busy, what do you want?” He spoke very clearly, “We're at your hotel room. We need to talk.” Fuck.