《Kino》


 Chapter 1 – gnefk

    All it takes to kickstart a day is an arm jostling out from its nest of pillows, but a day is long and full of hours¡ªand unemployment time is a lenient and benevolent mistress. Read, jog, tidy up, make a mess. Tidy again. Teddy. Not even a half-day''s work. Maybe the arm is aware of that. We weren''t up on my clock, my arm and I. This was busy-Nanski''s gong gone off to send her out to greet the people, pulling me along unwillingly. It was a small sacrifice I suppose, to spectate as she left to put food in our fridge, weed in our pipes. I hadn¡¯t told her about the call from Theodore. It¡¯s a rotten thing to do. It¡¯s a reasonable thing to not do. He¡¯s a stench. The type that makes people look sideways when passing, if you¡¯re not fine-tuned to the wondrous machinations of mankind. Mmh. A fine boy for a collector of specimens. My fine boy of olde, before he shut the door on the world. But for others, he¡¯s a creature best avoided. Out of sight and mind. Nan would not approve. A sleeping arm agrees.


    The pounding in the vestibule was furious, like a landlord just checked his bank account, missing something. It could¡¯ve been a dream, another sleep paralysis. But once it dawned on me, that I¡¯d dozed off, it became very real. Three rings on the doorbell, two proper thuds, squeaky letterbox opened.


    ¡°Maaax I know you¡¯re in there. I saw her leave twenty minutes agoooo.¡± No mistaking that nasal caterwaul of a voice. Positively Teddy the Kid.


    He wasn¡¯t toying when he said it was urgent. Eight sixteen. I barked ¡°Yees!¡±, got up. Grabbed the first pair of pants I could find, wrestled into them on a wobble through the livingroom. More beatings on the poor old door.


    ¡°Maaax!¡± he roared.


    ¡°Yes god dammit I¡¯m up!¡±


    Only the door left. Simple one-two operation. Turn the lock, pop the handle. Buy the ticket, take the ride. Deep breath, a prayer. Done.


    ¡°Y¡¯fken nuts or what? Lettin¡¯ me stand out here like an idyat.¡± He held his arms out as if challenging me, smiled. Same burning eyes as always, spark of something lost twinkling behind them. I feigned a yawn, rocked back and forth on heels and pocketed hands.


    ¡°Coffee? Good Lord I need a cuppa¡¯,¡± I asked.


    ¡°So I¡¯m coming in?¡±


    Glanced him up and down. All that vigor, threatening to tear down the walls lest I wake, had dissipated in an instant. Replaced by a look of forlorn perturbation like there was an actual scene on queue where I¡¯d close this here door, no-go y¡¯goy no-show. He stood there, squirming when I didn¡¯t reply right away. It was too much to bear.


    ¡°Get in here you odd fakkah,¡± I said with attempted comfort, leaned out and grabbed the lapels of his black hoodie, and bungeecorded him safely inside.


    ¡°Fuck is wrong with¡ª¡± he blurted mid-flight where I spun him around for an embrace, slamming the door in the same motion. I hugged him good and proper, cupped hands around his shallow ribs and tried to hold on. For a moment, just a teeny blink, he surrendered.


    ¡°Hippie bastard,¡± Teddy scorned, and I let him push me away. He met my drowsy eyes with a conniving smile (he knows that I knows that he loathes physical touch), and in it I saw something homely, a secret only we were privy to, a feeling reflected in him that I didn¡¯t expect to burst up like this in my own insides. And the next blink, like the tranquility of a morning, it was gone. ¡°We alone?¡± He kicked off his boots, looked around nervously. ¡°Saw her leave, kept my distance. Let you sleep in, all that. We alone?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I replied, herding him inside. The ominous feeling rose again. Nan''s lingering perfume had been consumed by Theodore and the seaweed rot permeating the walls. Can two years of only chatting turn brothers into strangers? Surely it can¡¯t. But he was¡­ different. Haunted.


    ¡°Nice place.¡± His bearing hadn¡¯t evolved an inch. Still flaunting the same rodent prowl, slightly hunched stature moving about in bursts and twitches.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright. The landlord is a pure nut, lives up top. Downstairs you got an old artsy couple, real big deal according to themselves. They threw a party last weekend, invited us down and I swear they¡¯d all dropped acid. This old bat kept following me around, patting me on the head, mumbling, said I reminded her of when she met Mick Jagger. But¡­ holier. Could¡¯ve been demented I¡¯suppose.¡±


    Teddy had stopped listening. He was inspecting the few paintings Nan had bothered to hang, the couch and coffee table that wasn¡¯t ours, the floorboards, the cracks separating them. I pushed him past the bedroom mess of unknown implicating objects, into the kitchen. Closed the door, lowered blinds, lit incense to joust away the ocean¡¯s plague, pulled out a chair for him, and got to work on a jug.


    ¡°How long were you in for?¡± I asked as I rinsed the (worst) filth from the pot.


    ¡°Two months,¡± he said after a silence.


    ¡°Two? And it¡¯s all over now. You¡¯re cured?¡±


    He took a seat in a different chair than the one I offered, scratching a millimeter trim. Then he wormed the other hand into his jeans, faced me with a feigned reassurance stretched ear to ear.


    ¡°That¡¯s what they say! Good as new.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? That bad huh.¡± Texts he¡¯d sent me from inside flashed through my head. The madness described, implied. When he wrote to me two months prior, saying he was standing on the edge of a dark pit, that he was afraid the earth would rip asunder and swallow him, I didn¡¯t think he¡¯d heed my command and actually do it, call up emergency services. Didn¡¯t think they¡¯d convince him to willingly check into a closed psychiatric ward, label him suicidal. They¡¯d send a technician at best, give him a sleeping pill for honorable service, pat on the head. How wrong I¡¯d been. ¡°Well you gave me a scare when you stopped writing, almost paid a visit to your mom¡¯s to hear the bad news.¡±


    ¡°Almost?¡± he scoffed, like there was an inside joke only he understood. ¡°That bitch didn¡¯t call once over the whole stint. Sweet little mummy.¡±


    ¡°Mmh. Harsh¡ªI guess.¡±


    He was about to say something when I interrupted.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had the pleasure of serving up a full looney before. You gotta tell me about it, and no snippets. I want the full jist.¡±


    ¡°Come on¡­¡±


    ¡°Meeeh! Humor me.¡±


    Leaning on his elbows, face in palms, he chuckled awkwardly. After a long pause, long enough for me to prep the coffeemaker and the first drops to spark through the tubes, he sighed.


    ¡°It was shit Max,¡± he began, talking solemnly to his feet. ¡°A drag. You got all these degenerates and psychotics that don¡¯t give a fuck about anything, yeah? It¡¯s the first stop for all the relapse psychos and nutters before administration can figure out where to put them. Like, how¡¯re you gonna get better when Marney¡¯s yellin¡¯ all night about how she¡¯s gonna do it this time, she gonna hit the mainline. The other half are poppers on charter, stackin¡¯ Benzo, stashin¡¯ and tradin¡¯ meds to get fucked in the head proper every three days, sneaking around waiting to knick yours if you go off on a nod. You just want someone to talk to, yeah? And nobody listens. Everyone¡¯s tuned in on their own shit. Like I just wanted to breathe. Not much else to it. But nobody listened.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Nice to be out again ei? Milk?¡±


    He looked up to shake his head, then back on the floor again.


    ¡°Nah. People go in and out, shipped off to other facilities. You make nice, shoot the shit and next day they¡¯re gone. Staff looks at you like you¡¯re toxic. Like you¡¯re a cancer-kiddo. There¡¯s no humanity. You get all these meds to drown out the insanity but the air in there makes you worse, like you¡¯re huffing down their crazy. I didn¡¯t want to kill myself. I don¡¯t think I did. Just¡­ had to get out of my room. But then they wouldn¡¯t let me leave. Said I was unstable, faking progress to get a hall pass. Day in and out you¡¯re behind bars, all doped out to cope with being in a locked confinement with these fucking mongrels.¡±


    He paused. I regretted asking. The room had taken an uncomfortable turn. It was pretty obvious that he didn''t wanna say any of this shit, and I was listening to words I didn¡¯t wanna hear.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s fucked,¡± I said in an uppity tone while rummaging through cabinets. ¡°A pill for every ailment they say, but I doubt anyone¡¯ll ever find out what¡¯s going on in your shifty little noggin¡¯. Can¡¯t blame em¡¯, the mountain of manhours alone¡­¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t wanna kill myself.¡±


    ¡°... and the budget cuts, oh lawdy. You¡¯d need to start up a whole research field, university wings, professors. Who¡¯d lead them with Pavlov ten feet under? I say¡­¡±


    ¡°Fuck off I¡¯m serious! I never wanted to die.¡±


    I placed the mugs on the table, sat down opposite him and slammed a palm down for theatrical emphasis. ¡°Obviously! I mean you¡¯re a doer. Not to be confused with someone who does a lot. But you''ll die from sensory starvation if you go cooping up at your mom''s again, get back on the scroll-n-fap routine.¡±


    Teddy nodded, fiddled with his hands and wistfully stared out the window. It was hard to imagine it, despite being propped up right in front of me. Theodore shattered¡ªa fragment of the madlad sparking up bedlam wherever he went, back before it all turned sour. Images of me in my shy teen beauty flashed by, chasing hallucinations through the pine forests and suburb idylls of Pisstown, Teddy close behind, taking notes on the potency and proficiency of anything we got our hands on; cough syrup, sleeping pills plucked out of maternal medicine cabinets at houses of supposed friends, industrial glue, mushrooms fresh off the ground in misty sheep pens outside of town come autumn, acid on sugar cubes at an Ikea parking lot in MCity, dodgy flower seeds off the web. But our findings back then stretched far beyond metrics and datasheets¡ªwe found ourselves in those feverish summer nights, shivering frostbitten nightmares of winter. We found each other and a kinship of bickering levity, of love through teasing and wrestling and growling at everyone around us. We¡¯d turned our backs on all of them. Didn¡¯t need em¡¯. Except for a curious few who held some ineffable value. Nothing could touch us, we were indestructible and conceitedly aware of it. Picked fights with anybody ¨C and always escaped unscathed. Always came out on top by some rogue benefactor or miracle, like old Ned the Needle, or Steven, the local Nazi warlord who¡¯d materialize out of thin air just as the bashing of I and Theo was set to begin. These absolute shites would recognize our faces, connect the dots to some dealing or transitory ciggie, assess the mess we were in, and all of a sudden blades were drawn, brass threaded over knuckles. Teenage boys quivered, grown men bolted and in the midst of it all we stood, laughing, rioting, darting through youth. Nobody would go near us, they thought we were connected all the way through to Bandidos and Hells Angels. Then one day it stopped. Teddy locked the door, stopped leaving his room. He was my best friend back then, like the only one who saw it all. Who saw me and didn¡¯t fuss about, said what he wanted to say and pissed in every direction he deemed dry. My mom tried to forbid me from seeing him when the rumors of our escapades reached her, and for him, for the first time in my life, I''d stood up to her, told her what a cunt she was and that I''d knock her out if she didn''t vacate the doorway because he meant everything to me. He was my world back then. Somehow I slipped through the cracks in the walls we''d built around ourselves, but he got stuck in there. When the fuckery subsided I looked around to see what the world had on offer. But he just¡­ slipped into its shadows.


    We were well beyond awkward in our silence, both staring out at the sprouting maple tree or a bird or fuck knows what, when he slapped a zippy full of white powder next to the mug. It only took a second I reckon for the zippy to pull on my heartstrings, palms warming up, building towards perspiration, and the oh so familiar tingle, creeping its contorted face over a ridge internal.


    ¡°You know what day it is right?¡± he began. ¡°It¡¯s the day our Lord and Savior rose from the grave, two thousandish ago. Now what good¡¯re we, in the capacity of devout Christians, if we do not revel in his blood and celebrate his name ei?¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure he didn¡¯t turn wine into powdah on Easter Eve. Whaddya have there? It¡¯s like nine in the bloody morning.¡±


    ¡°Lord!¡± he proclaimed in a raspy soapbox voice and looked up at the ceiling. ¡°Martha said to Jeeesass, ¡®If you been here my brother wouldn¡¯a died!¡¯. Upon which Jeeesass replied, ¡®bitch don¡¯t be ignant n¡¯ deliver unto me the ashes of Lazarus and he shall riseth.¡¯¡±


    Teddy rose from his chair, arms soaring like he was Christ crucified, picking up momentum and spinning round the room.


    ¡°Take me Lord and cleanse me in her womb! I¡¯m a hapless sinner¡ªand so is he!¡±


    Stopping mid-spin, he pointed at me with mad eyes and a countenance I hadn''t seen in a living soul since we were seventeen. The knot in my stomach pulsed with a mix of pity and fear. Like I was being sucked into a nebulous vortex, the toll of admittance too fine-printed to fathom. I¡¯ve never told him how much he¡¯d meant to me, seven years ago when he entered my life on a lukewarm summer evening, when we were but specks on the canvas of glory. I¡¯ve never told him that finding him there, on a bench behind Al-Jaffah Good and Service, was like finding god. I owe him everything, every last shred of my person. He showed me the light out of my shyness, how to turn fear into power. And of this fact, he is wholly oblivious.


    ¡°What¡¯s in the bag man! Jesus fucking Christ! Speed?¡±


    ¡°Guess again.¡± He started doing a little dance, swinging bony hips and snapping fingers. Nauseated, I picked up the bag, unzipped and dipped.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°What the fuck is that,¡± I said, trying not to grimace. ¡°Some proper RC vibe.¡±


    ¡°Nope. Ketamine brother. High time to ascend!¡± He spun around, opened a cupboard and then another. ¡°Where are the plates? How can you live without plates.¡±


    ¡°You do you man. I¡¯ll watch. The plates are in the bottom drawer.¡±


    Roles reversed. Me the voyeur, the note-taker; he the red-eyed lab rat braving a new frontier. I was all for it, the madness. My mouth said no but tendrils of spirit reached out, fondling the bag, toying with its contents like a kid in a sandbox. My synapses had already been leased out to Nan and MCity, earmarked for spending once the sun had sunk through the horizon line. But the sight of him was gut-wrenching. Like I¡¯d sucked the air out of the room with my decline, sending Teddy into a free-fall, limbs tensing up, cracking the shell he¡¯d manufactured for this here moment. Someone had to man the rudder before we struck shallows.


    ¡°I got shit to do today Theodore. Gotta go into MCity. Big rave and Nan will murder me if I cancel.¡±


    It was true. Saying it out loud was like peering through a keyhole, catching a glimpse of the monstrous creature that was her wrath. Teddy didn¡¯t reply, didn¡¯t move¡ªa statue with arms hanging like a bridge between the fixtures and his shoulders. He was I. I was him. Bottom approaching fast. A bottom neither of us were willing to face, there and then. Save it for later, sins are made for repenting. Weakness made for atonement.


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± I snarled after what must¡¯ve been a micro-eternity. ¡°You win! Fine! Yes. We¡¯ll do ketamine.¡± More silence. His face turned away from me, unresponsive, unmoving, annoying me. I¡¯d sacrificed the peace of paradise, banished my own dignity. Maybe he didn¡¯t hear me? ¡°Go on then! Get to work. I gotta catch a train in like seven hours.¡±


    Five seconds to act, ten, then I barged up from my seat, chair crashing into the floor, to grab a plate, prep the lines in a fit of rage. I pushed him aside, opened the drawer but stopped. Tears streamed down his mottled cheeks as he looked up at me. All hollow, like his soul had slipped out through the chapped, parted lips.


    ¡°I need this Max,¡± he said without trembling. ¡°Need to do this with you.¡±


    I sighed, walked back to the table, picked up the chair, dusted it off, sat down and gestured to the plates. ¡°I can see that Teddy. Let¡¯s take a breather. We all need our somethings, yes?¡± Deep breath. ¡°So! What¡¯re we up against? Come here.¡± I tried to offer him a hug but he just shook his head for nay. He took a plate, positioned himself beside the table and turned the bag upside down, finger flicking out its contents.


    ¡°Need a razor.¡± A surgeon''s peremptory orders.


    ¡°MasterCard is all I have. Bedside table, and in the drawer you¡¯ll find two straws.¡±


    On vermin legs he made quick work of the distance to the door, blasting a pillar of light straight at me as he opened it and disappeared into the room. The knot had entered hyperdrive, churning reactor chamber alerting me to the mortal perils ahead. I knew it was a shit enterprise, that ketamine was a horse tranquilizer best suited for the troubles of equinity, unsuited properly for mankind¡¯s divinity. It was already being whispered about in certain circles on the rave scene, praised and denounced in a roughly 50/50 split. He popped back in, looked as seared by the light as I felt, and got to work.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going Kool Aid on me now?¡± I asked as deft hands started molding the madness into digestible shapes. ¡°You didn¡¯t have a moment in there? Realized you¡¯re Manson¡¯s third reincarnation or some shit?¡±


    This was A-grade dope. I¡¯d only dipped my fingertip, and I could already feel an insect jitter under my skin that definitely wasn''t there before.


    ¡°Nobody likes a pansy,¡± he replied, zoned in on the task. He cut the lump again and again until it was fine and smooth, split it in half, and worked the white mounds with the card like a budget Michaelangelo until two lines began to take shape. They were thick as pencils, longer than your average coke line. Very troublesome.


    When he was done he gave me a straw and said ¡°Guests first!¡±. I took the card and shaved off a third from one of the lines, looking parentally at him, like I¡¯d caught him doing the naughty, and up it went.


    ¡°One down,¡± he said as I stood up, leaning my head back, rubbing the nose bridge. It came on quick, real quick. A searing fire concentrated to my forehead, spreading like a tsunami in all directions, engulfing every nerve and fiber, swallowing me whole. I slumped down to the floor, tried to focus my energy, taking it all in.


    ¡°Shit Theo. That is a b-b-bit ¨C ah shit! ¨C heavy.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re just getting started.¡±


    Somewhere in the distance a suction-machine switched on and I could feel it, how another entity stepped through the portal into the hostile wastelands of my kitchen.


    ¡°Shit shit shit,¡± he chanted, stomping his feet, letting a warcry rip through the air.


    ¡°What¡¯ve we done Teddy?¡±


    ¡°Whaddya mean? I told you¡­ Fuck me shit! I told you! It¡¯s time to face the light and atone for sins undone ¨C to embrace the Lord and rise from this mortal mess and sit by his side in the presence of angels. Sweet little angels.¡±


    ¡°Pfft yeah ok sure Teddy whatever Teddy. We did too much! I can¡¯t feel my fucking hands.¡±


    They were right there, right in front of me and then they weren¡¯t. Someone, or something, had moved them. I could hear my heart pounding and when I scanned the room it felt like my head would come off. Vision misaligned, some invisible hand dragging the image too slow. Couldn¡¯t keep up with me. I was falling apart.


    ¡°Music Teddy¡­ I¡¯m smelting. It¡¯s a virus. Shitting fuck it¡¯s too much.¡±


    I crawled to the door, opened it and shrieked in terror as the sun pierced right into me full force luminating every fiendish inclination in hiding, projecting them to full scale. I turned back to assess the damage but Teddy was unharmed, peering out of the blinds.


    ¡°Get away from the window!¡± I barked. ¡°Some basterd might see you!¡±


    I buckled up, kept moving to the computer resting on the bed, entered the password, then again, and again and again until some malign entity took over. My hands were working on years of conditioning, like they¡¯d laid dormant, waiting for this moment to prove their worth in the face of catastrophe. Screens hopped and shifted, appearing never to be seen again. By some miracle the thud of a bass drum echoed through the apartment like a life vest thrown from beyond, synchronizing with my own internal rhythm. A distorted voice repeated This is not electronic, Punjabi music, and I pulled the cover down, wrapped it around myself, crawled under the bed through dustmites the size of rats, out the other side coughing into a corner below the window. It felt safe, covered off from all external angles. Nobody could see me, and just then Teddy entered the room. I¡¯d forgotten he was here.


    ¡°We need to leave,¡± he said with a mix of fright and authority.


    ¡°Are they coming?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nevermind. Just¡ª¡±


    ¡°What the hell are you doing?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t wholesome Teddy, this is the devil¡¯s dope.¡± I set to arranging, measuring, sorting myself and the cover so that only my face poked out of the duvet kebab.


    ¡°You need to let go,¡± he replied calm as a lizard.


    ¡°Let go of what exactly?¡±


    ¡°We should go for a walk. It¡¯ll clear you out. What in the fuck kinda music is this?¡±


    I wasn¡¯t entirely sure myself. A distorted voice kept repeating the same phrase over and over to a furious snare, base trying to drown the whole piece. It was pointless. Somewhere in the cacophony Punjabi music echoed in circles. Teddy looked cool and collected, smiling.


    ¡°It¡¯s not music,¡± I said, an exemplary host. ¡°It¡¯s my heart rate. You should lie down, you don¡¯t look too well.¡±


    He jumped on the bed and I realized that I wasn¡¯t seeing out of my eyes.


    ¡°Oh God Theodore. I¡¯m in the ceiling!¡±


    Laughing he said, ¡°It¡¯s normal. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not worried Teddy, do I look worried?¡±


    ¡°Maybe a little.¡±


    ¡°What do you want Teddy?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We made a mistake, like trying to cure pneumonia with paint thinner. But we¡¯ll run with it. We¡¯ll sort it out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m seeing three of you talking, and I can¡¯t understand what the fuck either one is saying.¡± He squinted at me, triple cross-eyed, shaking his head as if to reboot.


    ¡°What do you need?¡± I said, emphasizing every word, and then I lost patience. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m asking. Standard fucking question. And before you answer it I want you to think real good because this shit ain¡¯t sane. This dope ain¡¯t normal. I¡¯m not in my body right now and I don¡¯t know who is, and let''s not even get into the paranoia. None of this is kosher. You, Teddy, are a human being and in this regard you have needs and wants, urges and drives. If these are not satisfied you are lacking. So what I¡¯m asking is this: What do you need?¡±


    He was smiling all creepy like he does when he¡¯s switched on a vibe, when you break through the fourth wall and peep in where you ain¡¯t supposed to but I¡¯m ready. I¡¯m fucking ready this time.


    ¡°You wanna be reborn?¡± I continued. ¡°Huh? Wanna start over again?¡±


    He stalled. The base was doing a number on me ¨C despite my vantage point it was near impossible to meddle forth a peace treaty between my mouth and head. The longer he stalled the further away I drifted, so I yelled ¡°WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!¡±


    Jumping half a foot, crying out ¡°Holy Mary I was in another place,¡± he looked around himself. ¡°This. I want this.¡± He bit his lip, cheeks quivering real subtle.


    ¡°You wanna be a ketty dope boy? You can¡¯t get on the switch on/switch off machine trail and expect to enjoy it¡­ It¡¯ll catch you in the head; ah shit. What the hell am I talking about? Are you crying?¡±


    ¡°I just¡­ I just wanna love somebody.¡±


    ¡°No shit. Turn that fucking music off I can¡¯t stand it.¡±


    ¡°I want what you have Max. A girl, a normal life, and friends¡­¡±


    It was hard to make out, but I was quite certain that tears were speeding down his eyes but the god-awful music ¨C Phat booty on the usual DJ Assault monotone beat ¨C put the scene in a discord. I did what any reasonable being would and wormed my way over to the computer, smashed my hand on the keyboard. Instantaneous liberty.


    ¡°Ah man. Can you hear that Teddy? It¡¯s your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± he replied, rolling over on his stomach. I shed the cover like a snake discarding skin, jumped up onto the bed, wobbled over to him and straddled. I could feel a surge passing through him. An urge to wrestle him erupted, some hardcoded need to subjugate him like I¡¯d done a million times in his room of olde, when he tried to throw me out for want of privacy and I¡¯d refused to leave. But this time was different. No resistance. And then I remembered the other things.


    ¡°This is medicine. I won¡¯t rape you,¡± I said soothingly as I put my palms on his back, drawing circles and shapes until I got lost in his shirt. He just took it, took it like a good boy. ¡°When I met you I was nothing Teddy, and you were the universe. You did your thing, didn¡¯t take shit and didn¡¯t give two fucks about anybody. The world didn¡¯t want to look at you, but you forced their eyes to see your weird face, terrorized them wherever you went. Do you remember that time you made me cry cus¡¯ you called me all sorts of names, and you were about to go home but I didn¡¯t want you to leave? And I said that you¡¯d hurt my feelings and that I¡¯d be dead if you left me there. You know it?¡±


    He nodded into the bed.


    ¡°And you asked me: Why do you even fucking care what I think?¡±


    He nodded again.


    ¡°And I said the cringiest shit I¡¯ve said in my whole life.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± he sobbed. ¡°That was pathetic.¡±


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t make fun of me for it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop rubbing. It¡¯s nice.¡±


    ¡°And we done so much shit together, and now you¡¯re fucked in the head and you¡¯ve run out of gas and you¡¯re a social god damn autist and I¡¯m not.¡±


    An energy had built up in some backroom out of sight, rising, coursing in waves through my arms into his body. I could feel his inner being screaming for help, clawing at the walls of its rotting cell. As my eyes went shut-shut its image pixelated ¨C a pitiful creature, strung along on a noose of false promises, ephemeral truths that it¡¯d one day see the light, truths that Teddy was too weak to embody. The fractious demonkid that had been my master, and then my equal. Fallen from divinity into the pits of his own soul. I had descended into his soul in order to erect what a bad hand had toppled. I was God. I had ascended.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see the glory of old my Lord, but a just Father demands a sacrifice. Flush the rest of the bag. All of it. Not a grain of torment can remain. And then you¡¯re going to purify your soul in a bath of holy water. Scrub all the nasty filth off your insides, cleanse the rot and flush out the quagmire that is your eternal soul. We need a Teddy fresh, something to build, to mold. You unlocked the gates that led us here, to this precious moment in our alternate timeline. Now listen to your Lord, heed the call or forever tumble into debauchery and ultimately, death. Don¡¯t even dare to avert off the path Teddy-boyo. I¡¯ll see you hung!¡±


    I rolled off him and almost fell on my arse, saved by agility and an invisible hand placing me upright. He sat up, eyes red and swollen, revealing a wet stain where his face had been.


    ¡°I need a smoke,¡± he said with all the destitution he could muster. It made me wanna smack him.


    ¡°Hell fucking no! The neighbors Teddeh, they¡¯re gonna flog us if we go outside ¨C done for. Eternal damnation.¡±


    ¡°No man¡­¡±


    ¡°GET YOUR ASS IN THE SHOWER!¡±


    And there, the shell cracked, yolk pouring out, wailing louder and rising still, like an animal crying out primordial horror. There were two of him, sitting side by side, embracing, faces covered by the black hoodie.


    ¡°One step two step routine,¡± I said with the patience of a saint, unsure if he could hear me over the ooing and booing. ¡°Into the kitchen, get the plate and the bag ¨C all of it ¨C and one step two step to the bathroom. It has to be by your own will, yes? No good it does in mine, no respite. Here, I¡¯ll hold your hand now. Purr-purr, here we go.¡±


    I got up and skipped around the bed, guessed which image was real, took its hands in mine and began pulling. He resisted, so I pulled a little harder until he fell over and I dragged him onto the floor.


    ¡°Teddy! Snap out of it!¡±


    On pure instinct he curled into full fetus, hiding his face as the sound pitched up, reaching unbearable heights, ripping through me like a blade. I had to make it stop, had to penetrate his flesh and rip his soul out into a new dawn. I barked but received no response. The ravine floor in glistening obsidian was approaching fast, soon the time to act would be lost forever. So I rolled him onto his back, pulled his hands away to see a contorted monster and gave him a good slap right on the cheek. The smack split the air in half, and through that ripple I was able to lift him up on a slipstream, place him neatly on his own two feet.


    ¡°There you go.¡±


    I got a good look at him, torment etched into the blurred faces like permanence but anything¡¯ll wash off with soul bleach. His eyes hollow, seeing nothing. The time was now, the chasm closing its maw to devour the sun. I pushed him in front of me, like Moses into the desert.


    ¡°Kitchen. Good boy, and now through here. Good. Shed those threadies now. You¡¯re meeting our Lord and Savior, Teddy. Show Him his image, show Him what a mess he done did.¡±


    As the powder went sailing into murky waters, it dissolved, its contained insanity passed on to some other misfortuned bastard. I turned the showerhead on a random setting, blasted the pressure to full and helped him undress, throwing garments left and right. In the midst of all the commotion my own two feet refused to obey, sent me crashing to the floor. Teddy swayed from side to side, almost keeled with me. It made my labor much easier, clawing his pants off and undies in one swoop, flaccid cock shriveled up into defensive formation, hurling profanities through its choke collar. With the last cloth unsheathed, I brusquely pulled him down into my lap, hopped my bony asscheeks like stilts over the tiles and into the tropics. The water, perfectly warm, absorbed into my pores, turning me to liquid. I had dissolved, melding with Teddy and the sewers, soaked clothes weighing me down and I performed the last rite. Before releasing him proper, I placed a hand under his neck, two under his knees and started rocking back and forth, humming on some nursery rhyme whose lyrics escaped me. The convulsions revved up, sure as bits, as he covered his face in my shirt and howled. The physical birth is a static affair, it has been mapped and plotted, but the birth of your soul cannot be predicted or facilitated by external means of preparation. Teddy had been the midwife of my soul, had delivered me into the light that was now his darkness, and so I held him closer, and wept of joy.

 Chapter 2 – catadehe

    The train-window felt icy-cool on my forehead, venting a marginal portion of the disarray brought on by nerves protesting their lack of Ketamine. Droplets of sweat sat perched like pigeons on my upper lip, coo-cooing for nutrients or further decay God knows naught. It wasn¡¯t a difficult exercise to endure if you factor in the expectations of my peers, the un-ketted zooming across twilight plains of wheat stalks dancing, cows mooing, manure reeking, bumpkins bumming, hopes kindling. Smile, avoid eye-contact, don¡¯t harass the locals. Same pipedream rules that apply for humanity independent of individual shape, hue or conviction in a decent society. Sit still and shut yer yap. It wasn''t my first rodeo, surely not the last unless Weavers of Fate got some grim plot in store. Breathe, and sit. Enjoy the ride. Don¡¯t negotiate.


    Nan isn¡¯t a devious person. She hadn¡¯t pried it out of me. I crumbled straight off when she called to inquire about my arrival in MCity, that is the state of me. Told her I was a walking carcass, a carved out shell of a man. She¡¯d never believe the innocent little lies fabricated in my moments of despair preceding the call anyway. The odds of Ketamine poisoning are fortunately abysmally small, and I can¡¯t justify the existence of vats for in-slipping either. She¡¯s well aware I don¡¯t have any close friends, and none of my fictitious ones are veterinarians. Besides, the guilt of keeping secrets from her is a vex. A torment more bothersome than to-whom-it-concern¡¯s scorn¡ªbest flushed out to rob the shroud of mystery of its sleeved aces. Bite yer cheek and face the music. The little lies are naturally excluded, like the knowledge of Teddy¡¯s reappearance. He could''ve just showed up at my doorstep out of the blue. It fits his character. Maybe she believed it. Maybe she didn¡¯t.


    As is natural for a woman of her stature under the given circumstances, she lost her shit. I was a scandal, mutually agreed. Degenerate. True under the circumstances but, as it was derived from the crime of substance abuse at an untimely hour, with emphasis on the hour, an enterprise in which she herself had indulged prior, on numerous occasions nonetheless, alongside me¡ªit had a skewered ring to it. Something about bricks and orangeries. I settled for a partial degenerate, a conclusion I obviously didn¡¯t share with her. And then there was Teddy. Staying true to the makings of a contrite confession I¡¯d delivered a minute report on the state of the boy along with the clouded reasoning behind my obligation to oblige his K-request. Said I''d struggled, objected to the madness but, given our history and the prelude of our little play, I¡¯d been powerless to circumstances. Yet he was treated like a ghost in her bombardment. This little omission hinted at the core issue at hand. That it was his intrusion into a space reserved for me and her, for our love, his intrusion into my psyche and the debaucherous departments where, for the past year, she was the sole proprietor. This was a grave concern, a truth much worse than the potential of me being a simple junkie.


    My mind was the only dissident in need of a whipping on the eternal train ride into MCity. I was a scatterbrained master, having plenty of time to atomize every word and stutter, tone and cadence of our conversation. The invitation to join her was still on the open market, with the foreboding addition of unimaginable consequences if I failed to catch the six o¡¯clock train. No matter how I twist and turn, I can¡¯t find a punishment fitting the crime. It could be anything. Toss me to the wolves, castration, pinch le bum. But it doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯d rehearsed the lines and arrived on time. Dressed up in fine attire; jeans, black hoodie, and the most obvious telltale sign of my decline hidden behind counterfeit Ray Bans. Teddy left early, off to see his mom when things started to get way awkward after the high diminished. That left me plenty of time to rinse the worst mess off, trim what needed trimming, rid the apartment of our stampede, fresh sheets, the works. It was spotless when I left, impeccable. A selling point in the atonement to come. And now, squeezed between a wall and a blobby man smelling faintly of hamburger grease, probably off to hunt for Easter eggs, I didn¡¯t have a clue what Nan¡¯s fury would look like. She could rip me to pieces, it was fine. All I needed was her touch to fill the hole drained by Teddy¡¯s misery.


    We hadn¡¯t been at this juncture before, Nan and I. Our unity had been a wild one from the getgo and the fires awoken on the first night together hadn¡¯t subdued or slackened as they usually do a year on. We burned with a feverish intensity together. Next to her the world went mute. My ears deaf to all but her voice. Bodies drawn together by magnetism. Those around us, our families and friends, random people on the street, were enchanted or disgusted by the public displays of affection, their sentiments but a pebble in an aromatic hailstorm. There was only Nan and I, living on raw love that neither of us could ever imagine existed before a fateful night in February one year prior. I¡¯d arrived at a party outside Pisstown at the farmhouse of our mutual friend, Pierre, in the company of my hookup, Emma. I had a longtime rival back then, in a modern yet medieval sense of the word, sleazy Chileno fella¡¯ smooth as butter. He was also there and couldn¡¯t hold back on a chance to imp and ruin my chances on a lay. So while he tooted his flute and Emma soared over to him I spotted Nan alone on the couch, rolling a joint. A familiar face, words exchanged prior. Pisstown being relatively small, there wasn''t anyone in your own litter that you didn¡¯t recognize, and Nan did one better. She hung out with Teddy¡¯s twin-sister back when he and I were at our peak. From our flash-encounters in hallways and kitchens, looks traded over ciggies bummed from whoever had them, at the parking lot outside the Munter residence, I¡¯d developed a low-key crush that never came to fruition, hoping our paths would cross until they didn¡¯t and I forgot about her. So when I crashed down next to her on the sofa of la mere de Pierre, offered her a beer, there was no intention, no grand scheme of fuckery. We quickly found our rhythm, kidding around. Laughing at the attempts of courtesans to woo her. I¡¯d rolled out a plan of acquiring a hippie van, touring Europe (which was an outright lie, I dunno why I ever said that, having no driving license, dough or semblance of mechanical proficiency) that piqued her interest, an eye-opener as she later put it. We got bored, taxi¡¯d back to town after consuming our consumables, anointing the other superior company, making a pitstop at my dad¡¯s to stock up on grass and beers before heading out into a blossoming night. Somewhere in there, looking up at her sitting in my squeaky office chair grinding weed or roasting a ciggie or twisting a joint, the light reflected off the glass table onto her face and it struck me that she was awe inspiring, the most beautiful creature I¡¯d ever seen up close. Blonde locks spiraling down narrow shoulders, bobbing whenever she moved. Gracious hands working the weed like an artisan. Slender figure covered up with a loose tank top and baggy jeans, only hinting at its naked contours. I¡¯d cry bloody murder if I let the moment slip. She was genuinely surprised when I gently embraced her face, ran my fingers through her hair and kissed her. What ensued was otherworldly. We weren¡¯t like, cherries in nagoy or anything. We¡¯ve concluded it several times on a billion all-nighters, running through the details, taking turns wrapping the events of that night in the truest words we master. Like, sometimes you just know that you¡¯ve stumbled upon something else. You walk through life and you¡¯re full-on ready to throw yourself into a war full passion, willing to sacrifice all your memories and everything that has ever been for unspeakable ends, but you don¡¯t actually believe that the day will come. Until it does. Erasing your past, like you wake up from a nineteen year old dream and breathe clean air for the first time.


    The ride from there to now wasn¡¯t all calm waters. Life sludged on, we made attempts to hook up again but she was busy during the weeks working full-time as a teleseller while I peddled dope to the masses of Pisstown on a vagabond¡¯s clock. It came close to never becoming more than that one encounter. The mind forgets, busies itself with whatever distraction offers up. But the body remembers, speaking through electric jolts of lack. When we did meet again, the moment she shut the door to my room and hearts went silent, we were taken back, in that moment, like something had pressed play, resumed living. We both had a healthy appetite for narcotics ¨C different experiences, fields of study, but the desire for explorations into the unseen was mutual and on the same level. It¡¯s a rare thing, to meet on equal grounds, at the same internal wavelength, the same semester in the curriculum of drug use. The playing field was leveled, two students versed in the elementary table, adept in the cuttings and carvings of worlds, still only scraping at the surface of a universe whose secrets we were resolutely intent on unveiling at all costs. There was a childlike want for it, to play with fire, neither having soared too close to feel a scorching. With dope you only get one shot at a grand entry, and we were dressed to the teeth for our arrival, waiting for the right suitor to grab our arm and lead us through the gates. We¡¯d already peaked through the blinders, felt the odors of the heavenly banquet inside, but the route we¡¯d taken to the Holy compounds had passed through opposite endpoints of the grid. I was engaged in the introspectives; mushrooms, acid, tramadol for chilling. She was on the powertrain; speed, ecstasy, coke and pure MD. An uppity gal¡¯. From that first reunion, we congregated in my room every weekend for two months sure as clockwork, soared off into the void, slithered around each other. With a head full of mushroom, it seems absurd at first, like it can¡¯t be done, that having sex is an unpure and dirty act unfit for the childish atmosphere of a rising trip. But as soon as you kiss, electricity of touch coursing through you, you¡¯re absolved. Mind leaves body, ascends the astral plane. And on that phantasmal plateau you¡¯re not alone, you are in the presence of divine entities, body interlocked with the one, gyrating up waves of emotions with a potency unfelt prior, showering you in the most basic and pure sense of unity, of belonging. Through love we grew, left permanent marks on the future of the other. And now I¡¯d done fucked it up. Broken the spell.


    My relief was immense when I stepped onto the platform of MCity Grand Station. Nimble feet carried me away from the scene, spurred on by the paranoia I¡¯d been such a goody-good boyo to stave off on the train ride, that is until I broke one of the holy rules of civility. It started with a couple in front of me. Clean, tidy people, talking in whispers. I caught a fragment from her along the lines of if you don¡¯t say something I will and in my head it was the queue to exit, wriggle away like a lubed up eel, else my nerves would explode. Some part knew that they weren''t talking about me, but it be like that. Nothing left to chance. As I stood up to leave the train jerked, almost tossing me off balance. There was still the blob blocking my path and I considered if I should ask him to move or clear my throat or climb over or sit back down, but I was invested in the flight. Aborting was equal to begging my neighbors to call up the psych ward and hose down a padded cell for my arrival.


    ¡°This is me,¡± I said, putting on the normalest smile I could muster. Pain shot through my jaw. It was a difficult pose to hold.


    He looked up with beady little swine eyes, crewcut, like I''d just called him a cunt, said ¡°That''s ok, I''m getting off too,¡± and didn''t move. He was toying with me. Meanwhile the coupled guy peered back, and I made sure not to turn my head when I looked at him.


    ¡°Well I need to use the restroom, so if you could just¡­¡±


    ¡°It''s out of order.¡±


    Jesus fucking christ, I thought or muttered. He had me backed into a corner and I was soaked and unfit for this climate. I needed a moment''s respite to prepare my defense. It was detrimental to the future survival of my sanity. Then I was tossed off balance again, saw my leg hoisted up and stretched out in front of me, hovering over the fat fucker. My body was already committed to the lean, Hail Mary¡¯s while gravity pulled me forward, him baffled and I terrified. There was an empty square between two standing bodies on the packed train and I nailed it, rotated, straddled the space above his legs, moved the other on sheer momentum and swiftly got the fuck away from there, pushing past the crowds until I was safe in the end-car. These things happen, I tell myself.


    Reaching MCity did wonders. It¡¯s something about being in a big city, the open spaces or towering buildings, that shrinks you down, anonymizes. There¡¯s a fair share of weird fucks, and people, generally speaking, have been conditioned to steer clear. It¡¯s the wobble that gives you away. A discordant walking pattern, limbs moving irregularly, eyes darting erratically. Now I wasn¡¯t one of these spectacles, I¡¯m sure of it. But these bits of knowledge are good to have, for rainy days. My presence was already a thorn in the side of passer-bys, creeping through the finer parts of Old Town.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Nan was cooped up at Melvin¡¯s, our home away from home in MCity, an enormous apartment fit for the likes of Mushkin that housed three generations of his bloodline. It sat right across the road from the lush and bombastic Malahm Garden safeguarding trees two hundred years old. It was the peak of bourgeois, yet his kin were far from it. They¡¯d snatched it off the market for a measly sum somewhere in the dawning 90s, let the years fill it with paraphernalia, mystery and a musky odeur extruded from Melvin¡¯s grandmother (likely candidate, think retirement home decay); a curled, miniature woman who¡¯d lost all interest in the outside world, investing her last earthly days into teasing the immediate flock. I could only manage the bare minimum charadery that would get me in. Press the telecom, wait an eternal minute for Mellie¡¯s mummy or grandm¨¦re to buzz me in, stalk through the broad lobby leading to the furthest door on the first floor. And then there were the inevitable greetings, nods and reports. Luckily this didn¡¯t take place in the vestibule. They never locked the door, which gave me a moment to adjust bearings, bathe in musk d¡¯mami. Passing through the kitchen I greeted the wrinkly old sod. They always sat there, in the kitchen, Mellie¡¯s mummy and gamama. Kitchen people. She kept at it, sensing I was off my baseline. Courtesies had no end in sight. Oh and the ride over yes, most marvelous scenery this time of year. I do envy you. Don¡¯t you agree? And how will you be spending summer? On the riviera? Not working I hope? Yes, ah yes. In my days we¡¯d work the winters and travel the lands once the first wheat had been cut¡­ Tell me, are you familiar with wheat? There was a glimmer in her eyes, a sinister fractalization of the dim kitchen lighting that made it harder to act, to speak. My hands were twitching uncontrollably. I squirmed them into pockets, convinced myself that she was indeed toying, laughed mid-sentence and excused myself for the bathroom.


    Techno sent skin into full vibrate when I entered Melvin¡¯s room. It had been rearranged again, for such is his restless way. I threw myself on the couch now placed smack-center in the room overlooking the relatively new aquarium. Watched the fishies lick the glass, feeling thirsty. Melvin turned around and said hi, poorly trying to conceal a grin. Nan, standing next to him, ignored me, bent over a laptop in the opposite end of the room, shuffling through playlists or whatever it is you do when you¡¯re gearing to strike the iron sizzling hot off the coals.


    ¡°I¡¯m dying, send help,¡± I pleaded but she pretended not to listen. Trying to find some must-be-played tune, all part of the act. I focused on breathing, tried to enjoy the anticipation. After a while Melvin came over with a beer from the mini-fridge, told me to open wide, placed a pill in my mouth and patted me on my moist forehead.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be good as new in a heartbeat,¡± he said, opened the beer ¨C a Polish brand smuggled in from Germany or Denmark or some other second-rate country ¨C and handed it over. Swallowing felt like pushing a corpse over a spiked rug. Once it passed the trachea, there was no going back. The tune got abruptly cut off for a favorable BPM. Nan turned and hovered casually, slid over the couch¡¯s back, straddled me, took the beer, placed it on the coffee table and held my arms in place above my head. Leaning in for a kiss, she swerved, strafed my cheek and placed her lips against my ear.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t perform tonight I¡¯ll crush you.¡± As she whispered she repositioned, pressed her knee against my groin and started to push down on it.


    ¡°Ok, ok,¡± I yielded. ¡°I¡¯ll do anything.¡±


    My hands now free intertwined each other behind her back, pressed her body against mine cus¡¯ I knew it would soften her, ingratiate myself back into the spotlight. A fool. A simple, monorailed fool I was. My punishment laid ahead of me, not on top. An internal gauntlet where external aid would do little to advance my standings. Before she kissed me, she held my face, elevated on elbows looking dead serious. Smile, wave, give les publicum zheir show. Wier playing zhe big stage Martha, tap-tap-tap. Tap for glory. Tap for mercy.


    Activate standard routine. Melvin¡¯s paradise filled up with smoke. Trays ashened, bottles drained. My quest was that of survival, stringed along in conversations, reduced to a hugless centipede crawling up and down Nan and Mellie to their heightened amusement and my salvation. She saw straight through my translucent skin to the fermenting core, saw the inner child operating a squiggling fleshy machine too big for his size. A child tormented by images of unspeakable horrors. She didn¡¯t ask about Teddy. Didn¡¯t have to. She could¡¯ve gone full brute, played the bad fiddle, let me rise to the occasion on my own metaphorically stubbed arms. Entitlement was present, she had every right to press me. But it never came. She picked me up, licked me clean with an invigoratingly honeycombed voice, marinated me in the sap of raw devotion for which I was wanting but didn¡¯t dare to request aloud. Melvin wasn¡¯t far behind in his uplifting endeavors, though wrapped in motives of a different nature entirely. Over the course of me and him, the bestest lovelyboy in Nanski¡¯s arsenal going back five or so years, he¡¯d popped out of a smothering closet, and I sort of have to take partial credit for that escape. When we first met, in his fits of molly-infused lusts, he couldn¡¯t keep his hands secured to his own person. He took every opportunity to feel me up. That is before he¡¯d openly come out as gay, popped his cherry on a terrace overlooking MCity with a frenchmen known as Bob on Grindr. I¡¯d given my body up freely for him to discover. A testing ground of sorts to see if it would harden his baguette, and it did. He¡¯d slobber all over, kiss my abs, tell me to flex, longingly watch as Nan caught the jellybug and pushed him off me. His pitch black eyes were wild with want, and from those experiments we moved on to the more practical question of his heterosexual facade. I was the one who installed Grindr on his phone, handing over my work to le Bob for post-production. It was I who corrected his path when he¡¯d stumble into a morose pit of despair at a rave or on our nightly hikes through the floral mazes of Malahm Garden. Nan provided moral support, sure, but she lacked the genetic disposition to lure the snake out of zhe zipper. And with the gates of Eden swung wide open for our power-bottoming accomplice, his sweet tooth for my nectar hadn¡¯t been subdued. On the contrary, and in this particular state of being and non-being, my groundwork was a savant stroke of foresight, for attention ooh that lowly herald of the depraved, was the only sin capable of instilling relief.


    When darkness had conquered the city, we left for populated pastures. I¡¯d lost concept of time and space, leaving the tactical side of planning ahead to my amorous patrons. Walking had become increasingly difficult, my only demand thus being that we¡¯d travel by taxi. Mel phoned up a taxi noir. A smiley-faced Nigerian pulled up shortly thereafter in a microscopic Fiat. Made us feel at home proper, like we were riding in a chariot of pure opulence. It was hell, fighting off gravity, keeping eyes open to smile yes smile, grin and oblige, but every time I started to nod, one look from Nan set me straight again. No room for half-measures. The first stop was an apartment somewhere uptown, scores of loud voices, music. Sweet, misty smoke from a smoke machine meant to envelop us in a dreamlike state, only making it harder to find whoever needed finding. Faces flashed by in a flurry of highs and lows. Just when I was about to throw the towel, a hand belonging to life itself, or a kiss from Nan or some boy she¡¯d coaxed to kiss me, delivered powder and pills, spiked drinks, jolting another inch of adrenaline into my system. And she got off on it, this I knew. We had a set routine on our MCitian adventures through la soci¨¦t¨¦. She, the role of convivial charmande, entertaining the people, spiking their interest. She had a real knack for unveiling the topics in which people felt superior. I was cast as her toy, an angel-faced whore whose sole sustenance was dope and sexual innuendos. Under normal circumstances, I was capable of attracting a crowd too, but my patience for social games couldn¡¯t match her''s. I get bored, start uttering profanities and edgelord to see how people react, and when they in turn find me appalling I lumber off to the dancefloor to get lost in a stampede of feet. It¡¯s where I belong, my natural pen. Soaring off to a pounding beat, sacrificing muscular energy to the ruinous powers. Occasionally she¡¯d come fetch me up, lead me towards people she introduced as the cooliest, rowdiest, most amazing des la temps; she¡¯d do this just to put me on display, her trophy, lure a cute boy to kiss me, girls too if they were exceptionally beautiful. My future wife, the cuckold. I didn¡¯t mind, it was cute and flattering. So when I once again found myself on the bottom, slumped together in a corner at the party, some rakish little thing straddled me, said howdy soldier and pushed its tongue down my throat. I was already groomed and primed for it. I knew that it was a gift from her to awaken that which was effectively dying. He paused, told me to open wide, put a chem-laced finger in there and slid it a bit too far for comfort, forcing me to bite down hard to prevent a cascade of vomit. His face contorted, with pleasure or pain I couldn¡¯t tell.


    At precisely the right time we phoned our Nigerian friend. This time he arrived in a Subaru, even smaller than the last one, and took us through downtown and uptown, away from the partygoers stalking the streets outside pubs counting down to closing hour, through the suburbs and into the industrial complexes towards our final destination. You felt it before you saw it. Rows upon rows of cars parked outside a run down brick warehouse with shattered windows. People clustered onto the streets, Arabs chanting taxi taxi taxi in an ill-rehearsed chorus. Nan and Melvin casually walked past the line of indifferent veterans, anxious newcomers and dope dealing Arabs dressed in the latest fashion, man bags strapped across their chests. Intermittent, slow movements, kissing cheeks, hugs, hollow phrases exchanged on the sluggish crawl towards the front of the conga line. When we arrived, the doorwoman nodded, vaguely familiar, greeting me by name as she ushered me in, opening the gateway leading to the cellar, unleashing a pounding baseline at a minimum of 150 bpm. Smoke bellowed out from the opening, and when the heavy metal door closed with a thud behind us I felt trapped. Locked in a time-capsule. Nan pulled me through the dancefloor, generic faces nodding off, eyes rolling backwards into the unknown as feets shuffled about and smoothed out the concrete floor, arms flailing ecstatically making them into one big multi-limbed amoeba. Eric manned the DJ booth. All of this was his doing, the club, the people ¨C all of it. He was my friend more than theirs, but things tend to take on a life of their own. Him and Nan got along mighty fine, and Mel tried his best to attain the same status of comradery. I used to buy shrooms off him back in my dealing days, getting scammed on the scales but I didn¡¯t mind it. He¡¯d left his enterprise for a more favorable one, arranging the most sought after raves in MCity, stiffing whoever he could to bump up his own profits. But never us, never once had we felt the burn whispered in certain circles. It¡¯s not that I doubted their validity, though. It¡¯s just hard to think poorly of a guy who¡¯s about to dope you up. Ducking down behind the booth he pulled out a plate with four thick lines chopped out like incinerated worms, laying next to a fist-sized pile of white. My head caught on fire as the first line disappeared and he smiled his evil smile, approving of the state of I with a discreet nod. I got back onto the dancefloor, left them behind without a care in the world, closed my eyes and started dancing.


    At some point I woke up. Someone had stuck another chem-dipped finger in my mouth but the culprit couldn¡¯t be identified in my closest lineup, suspicions be damned. I¡¯d lost myself in time again. A woman had taken Eric¡¯s elevated throne behind the decks and I got back to focusing on breathing, looking for my inner Zen. Nan¡¯s familiar hand slid over my chest into my pants, clasped around a flaccid cock, pulled on it like a leash, leading me into the restroom. We fucked quick, rough. Like feral animals, nothing beautiful about it. Greed rising and falling with the cock. An orgasmless affaire to sooth the idea of fucking more than some bodily craving. When I came back to realtime, I was on the dance floor. Poof. Like it had never happened.


    Nan found mercy somewhere in the twilight, and the same Nigerian drove us back into town. Melvin stayed behind, looking for a fabled afterparty. I had done it. Crawled through the barbed wire trenches. This was my reward¡ªa royal pardon. Eyes felt like bricks, they wouldn¡¯t obey despite further attempts at artificial reboots but my cock was functional and that was all that mattered. She undressed me down to full nagoy before sorting herself out, tucked me away under the covers into a universe so soft and forgiving. We drifted in and out each other, a comatose dance fueled by bursts of adrenaline and primordial urge, until Melvin came back empty handed and we all fell asleep in one big pile of flesh; Nan¡¯s hand on my cock, Melvin¡¯s on my asscheek, mine blissfully tucked in under a satin pillow.

 Chapter 3 – kneooni

    In the weeks that followed I managed to attain equilibrium on all fronts. We¡¯d struck a silent bargain, Nan and I. Under no circumstance would be talk about Teddy---or the fact that I¡¯d taken it upon myself to mentor him into a presentable figure capable of changing underwear daily, washing a nutsack, and, ultimately, finding a mate. She was aware of my project despite it going on when she was at work, rendering full disclosure mutually redundant. I knew she didn¡¯t wanna hear about it for reasons beyond logistics and efficiency. She was afraid, but she wasn¡¯t gonna shut it down just yet. Equilibrium.


    He¡¯d shacked up with his older sister, Ruth, who incidentally is my ex-girlfriend but that¡¯s a different matter entirely. It wasn¡¯t what you¡¯d call an optimal setup, her being a different breed of degenerate; unpredictable, violent, and very, very persuasive. Teddy didn¡¯t have options, net worth subzero on no income, and his mother had already turned his old room into an office cus¡¯ I didn¡¯t think y¡¯were comin¡¯ back. Yup. Not that it presented itself as a favorable alternative. Quite the opposite. Ruth stood, in that moment of time, for everything we were trying to raze and demolish. She was the effigy of unwant that made the enterprise oh-ho-ho so exciting. Nobody thought we could get him out of hell and above water, faith lost. Deep down I¡¯m not even sure we believed it ourselves. But I wouldn¡¯t let it come to that without exhausting all possibilities, starting with the most pressing issue at hand.


    Teddy went to a job interview in the docks set up by I through a lowkey desperate campaigning of my phone-list. It¡¯s not like I¡¯m an employment agency, or connected in any way shape or form. The list was full-stacked with old clients from the dope-peddling days and I had no image to uphold, no face to lose as they''d all lost their value. So out of the hundred hooks sent one baited; a fine, reserved lad that had left his dogdays behind and blazed a path all the way up to shift manager at a postal sorting center. Within a week there was an interview.


    The job was simple. Shitty, but simple. Working the graveyard shift in a massive tin box by the lorry-landing, emptying the hold of trucks coming in from Poland, Germany, UK, Denmark, Russia, Bulgaria ¨C the meteropolic centers of the universe. Teddy was a fine worker, I didn¡¯t doubt it for a second. Give him a purpose and a mop and he¡¯ll sweep to his heart¡¯s delight. No complaints. Treat him to a hot cuppa twice a day and his designated cog in the machine will be squeaky clean and pearly-oiled. He¡¯d run the numbers, and on any given night he lifted parcels totaling an average of ten tons, which took care of two b?rds in ?ne bl?w. The quelling of idle hands, and a body¡¯s discovery of muscle tissue. I¡¯d enforced basic hygiene routines; brush teeth twice daily, four minutes a pop. Check. Floss. Check. Rinse. Check, I think. Wash clothes. Hopefully check. And undies. Unsure. Updating his wardrobe beyond the one pair of jeans, one pair of hoodie and two t-shirts was painfully mandatory but impossible in the face of lacking his first paystub. I¡¯d already put together lists and looks, honed in on a particular style that would slip right in line with the degen-fashion crowd, passing him off as a model citizen of the underground. That¡¯s the thing about unemployment, you can achieve wonders with all that time without even leaving your bed. Which brings me to the catastrophic uprootal of stroking my protege from nine to five.


    It was with a heavy heart that I left the comforts of unemployment. Increased rent was the official reason, that and saving for a trip to India. The real reason ¨C which neither I nor Nan had uttered aloud ¨C was Nanski''s increased interest in Tramadol. Between her working hours and our nightly rituals of getting fizzy, scratching each other''s backs and nodding to ambient musique psychadelique, I was clueless to specific amounts. Her bankroll had diminished mid-way through the month, and in those hazy wool-padded nights she ate twice, sometimes thrice, the volume of yellow and blue or red and white little niblets that I did. With them came the natural upflux of weed. We were racking up credit at the dealers fast, approaching a predicament. Put the accountants to work if you want numbers, I need them naught. All it took was a scornful line delivered with such sleight of tongue that any outsider would¡¯ve been oblivious to its magnitude. Maybe it¡¯s your turn to hook us up. And so it goes.


    This little shift was precipitated by a different type of new brewing on the horizon. Our lease was up, time to vacate, and fortune willed it such that Nanski''s mother had a commuter flat in MCity which would be vacant over the summer. The affair was grand, no sobbing farewell to the town we both grew up in or had been connected to in one shape or other since the beginning of our lives (since birth she¡¯d lived outside town in an old 1800th century stable turned rustic and habitable by her parents, in a small village by the sea, and I originally came from an equally small village at the same distance from Pisstown, but inland (in a whisper: we moved when I was ten)). We were effectively making it, shedding the skin of a past grown too claustrophobic to carry us anywhere, stepping on the first stone of many leading into a life we felt destined to lead. It was our birthright, and now we were letting go of the railing, taking the leap, together. Before we could spy out over the pastures shrouded in night, there was one last formality left to do prior to boarding the train to MCity.


    After a swift inspection of our first home, we handed the keys over to Goran, our landlord, who assured us that he felt no remorse whatsoever for replacing us with some pompy actor paying three times more than we had.


    ¡°All my life I¡¯ve been the one to give give give,¡± he¡¯d said in his ponderous, raspy voice, wild beard tossing to and fro as he looked from Nan to me and back again. ¡°Now it¡¯s my turn to take take take.¡± We laughed like no hard feelings. He assured us that he loved us earnestly and that we must remember him on our future travels, send a gift or two from exotic places. ¡°But don¡¯t lead on. I want it to be a surprise.¡±


    Spirits were high when we stepped down onto the cobblestones, collars swiftly drawn to stave off a chilling gale. On our short stroll to the restaurant where we were meeting up with my mother, sister, grandm¨¦re et grandp¨¦re, Liz topped us off on trammies, assured me that it was a vital thing to do.


    The oldies all lived in Pisstown still, settled in like people do after a certain age and displeasure of living. My sister, Nell, had just got back from a stint up-country and the how¡¯s and why¡¯s of her return were still murky. Leaving the capital for a semi-rural shithole required desperation or resolve, and she wasn¡¯t the sentimental type. We¡¯d never been real close, sis and I, until Nan came into the picture. The atmosphere grew warmer and friendlier with each family gathering, and I developed something akin to brotherly care, like I wanted to do good by her and that doing so mattered. This makes no sense without adding the oh so important detail of the veritable war that erupted with my parents finding out I was a dope fiend way back when. In doing so sis got caught in the line of bombardment. No good war without civilian casualties. They couldn¡¯t understand it. Some people dig their heels in sports, books, mopeds and whatever, which would¡¯ve been all fine. Me tying the knot with drugs didn¡¯t sit right, it was so out of their scope that they didn¡¯t have a plan for it. So they did what they could and improvised. Countless times I¡¯ve been driven in the middle of the night to the police station by my own father for surprise drug testing, greasy officers making me undress to do a strip search, putting me in holding cells to ponder all the misery I¡¯d inflicted on my loving little mama and pappy. And then there was the odor of dogs in my room when I got back from school. Or my shit being far too orderly for my lowly habits. Credit is due where such is warranted, and my father, being a major in the Swedish army, had access to rooms and favors I don¡¯t believe even he was aware of before rattling their handles. When they couldn¡¯t raid a positive sample out of my urine, they gave up and remobilized. For my sixteenth birthday I got a moped, which did steer me away from Teddy momentarily, into a crew of rowdy boys who had no business owning horsepowers. They unlocked the gates to parties, zhe boys, and drinking. Oddly enough I had a feeling that Kate and Ray had debated this, deeming it a wholesome step in the right direction, and thereafter supplying me with booze whenever I mentioned a fette. No stealth needed, curfew extended, and the path to Teddy cut from fifteen to five minutes compliments of a 100cc Fukhatan combustion engine. From there it just sort of settled. I stayed true to my vocation, learned how to cover my tracks with adept precision, and they stayed pissy out of an assumed inability to catch me red-handed. In this they were united right up until the divorce, and after that old daddyo capitulated, said I could smoke whatever I wanted as long I don¡¯t listen to reggae. I mean I understand them, in a way. When Teddy delivered my soul I had a new mother, one who could give me the universe. How do you even compete with that?


    I sighed when we stopped outside the gilded doors to The M Lounge to finish our cigarettes. Nan turned around, glossy-eyed and bubbly, undid a button of my overcoat and snuggled herself in and around.


    ¡°It¡¯s not so bad,¡± she murmured. ¡°And then I¡¯m all yours. You¡¯re all mine, for a thousand nights you¡¯re mine.¡±


    We got stuck like that, cigarettes devoured by the roaring wind, until she jolted to life, suddenly remembering the where¡¯s and how¡¯s. She grabbed my chin and looked right through me with honest intent, and then a kiss.


    ¡°Kate better behave,¡± I said and pttrooed like a horse.


    ¡°Signal if you need a refill, ok?¡± She winked, spun around and led the way. Mom picked the same place she always does when there¡¯s cause for celebration. A place frequented by family¡¯s past the messy toddler years, couples dating collectively with other couples, suited up business people gawking the day away. Big polished wooden tables for celebratory gatherings, positioned strategically with just enough distance to the neighbors to feel at ease. Chairs clad in coarse white fabric reaching down to the maroon, thick floor carpet. Floor-to-ceiling storefront windows to occupy minds and eyes, watching the diluted population scamper down the streets outside. It was beyond post-tacky. IKEA prints of the Empire State Building, Eiffel Tower, Golden Gate Bridge plastered over every available wallspace. Wooden panels in dark oak covering an inner wall. A palace for the upper middleclass, crummy and soulless but functional when each and all chipped in and swallowed it, paying four times more for a pizza that tasted just as bad as at the shoddy place down by the train tracks. Lots of money to be made if you can crack the formula of population size, average income and lack of feeling important. Nan walked with a purpose, got stopped by a nervous waitress.


    ¡°Do you have a reservation?¡± she cautioned, a new addition, or old with a new face.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I smiled. ¡°We¡¯re with some people. Kate Marrow.¡±


    She smiled back at me, weighing us real subtle like I wouldn¡¯t notice her train of thought, that we weren¡¯t on the scale of passable clientele. Waiting for a reply, seeing none in sight, I walked, took Nan''s hand and squeezed it. ¡°Bring two beers to the table. On the bill.¡±


    ¡°Big ones,¡± Nan giggled as I dragged her along. The hostess eyed us some more before scurrying off to the bar, draped in a plastic smile you¡¯ll only see on the burnt out pawns of the service industry. We were late. Walking at grazing length from the congregation of pik¨¦ shirts, boat stripes, broad leather belts and wavy tops, pale jeans or navy trousers, starched white shirts or off-tint babyblue, I spotted them in the farthest corner. All eyes were on us the instant we gained the three step elevation, arms around waists. They lit up with a peevish radiance; we had finally arrived.


    ¡°Late as always!¡± Harold roared so everyone in the whole restaurant could hear him, summoning a slap on the wrist from my grandmother. ¡°Eh? What¡¯s gotten into you?¡±


    ¡°Hello Max,¡± she said apologetically. ¡°And hello Nanna.¡±


    ¡°What the hell is going on here!¡± Harold continued, eyes propped at full height. ¡°You¡¯re always late,¡± looking at me, he smiled and chuckled.


    ¡°Dad, stop it,¡± Kate said and got up to greet us.


    ¡°Yap-yap-yap-yap-yap,¡± he cackled. ¡°If y¡¯raised him proper he¡¯d be on time.¡±


    I leaned down to accept mummy¡¯s hug, handed her over to Nan and went around the table to envelop Penelope. ¡°When you start talking substance,¡± I said to Harold who was still grinning at me, crown of slicked white hair absolutely radiating above his rotundity, ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to be here on time. Gotten fatter ei?¡±


    Penelope¡¯s body jolted a little, obviously pleased with the remark but proper enough to not alert the other¡¯s.


    ¡°Max!¡± Kate snapped behind me.


    ¡°Hah!¡± he bursted out, slapping his gut. ¡°Shut up woman, he wasn¡¯t talking to you.¡±


    Sis absently accepted a hug and with that the round was completed. Nan seated opposite mother, I opposite Nell and the grudgebearers opposite each other. My phone buzzed. Glancing at it I saw his name scroll by, The Kid, followed by Need to see you tonight. Day was shit. I looked askance at Nan who looked askance at my lap. My stomach did a flip around itself. Her hand came looking for mine under the table, finding it, smiles exchanged. Nan would get pissy if I ditched her tonight. It was to be our first night in a new apartment, new city, new beginnings ¨C far away from Teddy and every intruder claiming my attention. On the other hand, I would betray four weeks of intense labor, possibly tossing it all in the shitter over something as meager as bad timing. You in MCity or here? I replied with my free hand.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°So you¡¯re leaving us,¡± Mom said after an eternal silence. ¡°And the nerve to just kick you out on the streets like that. Awful, awful thing that is! Goes to show that there¡¯s no decency left in this world, tossing you out like that.¡±


    ¡°He didn¡¯t toss anybody,¡± I filled in. ¡°The lease was up and he found a tenant who paid more.¡±


    ¡°Well who did he find?¡± she replied like these things never happen.


    ¡°Some movie production company. Charged them triple our rate.¡±


    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s perfectly normal,¡± she went on. ¡°Huh? Is that how you treat other people? Well then that¡¯s perfectly normal isn¡¯t it. Nan, your mother is a saint for turning you around like that. You must give her my regards when you see her. You simply must.¡±


    ¡°Oh I will,¡± Nan said genially. ¡°It¡¯s working out perfect really. I mean I work in the city. It¡¯s summer soon so we¡¯d be there all the time anyway.¡±


    A new waitress spectrally appeared behind us, placing beers on the table to mother¡¯s blatant discontent, asking if we were ready to order. I quickly skimmed through the menu, settling on a Caesar salad for the sake of simple edibility. The trams were kicking in, placing thought for food at the farthest possible distance from actual enjoyment. Nan followed my lead and round the table we went until Harold was up, breath held by all. Once he realized it was his turn, he said ¡°I¡¯ll have the ENTRECODE. I want it MEDIUM-RARE,¡± real slow and loud like he was talking to a misfortunate.


    This spooked the waitress but she recovered, scribbled on the notepad, asked ¡°Anything to drink with that?¡± He looked confused. Leaning towards Penelope he barked ¡°What does she want?¡±


    Grandma ignored him. ¡°He¡¯ll have a glass of red wine, please. He doesn¡¯t hear very well. You¡¯ll have to excuse him.¡± Harold looked down at the tablecloth or something, then up at me, shook his head all dumbfounded, like ¡®I don¡¯t know what the fuck is going on¡¯ and I grinned like ¡®Yeah you¡¯re fucked¡¯. I liked him, my grandfather. You¡¯d never find peace and quiet in a ten feet radius around him for more than twenty minutes if my mother or grandmother was around. He thought he ran the show but the only thing he ran proper was his yap, nagging at them both for some unspeakable affront only he was privy to. Before his hearing went to shit they¡¯d all get real rowdy and ruin just about anything capable of ruination, but this edition, the hearing-aid-cranked-up-to-full-spurting-out-screeches-of-raw-horror-at-random-edition¡ªhe was mellow. Abysmally declined, without a soul in the world to tell it to.


    Sis sat all aloof next to mom, ordered a Caesar salad minus chicken and dressing. I tried to get her attention by staring intensely but she wasn¡¯t playing, so I got my phone out and wrote I¡¯ve got rope, you got tree, let¡¯s go hang just you and me. In my head it sounded like a jingle but I felt instant regret after sending it. Teddy had texted MCity. Got beer. Just like that he¡¯d knocked me down twelve paces, like he thought that low of me, that I wouldn¡¯t hang with him unless he lubed up.


    ¡°What does that even mean you freak?¡± sis said and kicked my leg under the table.


    ¡°Relax! It came out like a tune or something. But¡­ Forget it!¡± I got up and rounded the table, hugged her from behind. She sat there all awkward at first, but I didn¡¯t avert. Slowly she gave way, squeezed my arm which was good enough. ¡°You can always call you know,¡± I whispered in her ear before going back to my chair. They all watched me, didn¡¯t say a word until I was seated again. It was always like this. Like everyone had arrived to collect a medal for outstanding service in the line of blood bonds, too harrowed to give a damn about the actual war. But lips must move to fill the vacuum, sure as bits they must.


    ¡°Tell me Nan! How are things at work?¡± mom asked all giddy.


    ¡°Good. Real good actually,¡± Nan replied as if she was surprised by this fact. ¡°I¡¯ve been promoted to team leader.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s marvelous!¡±


    Penelope oooowwh¡¯d uncharacteristically, eyes going all owly, forcing me to bite my cheek into submission.


    ¡°I guess,¡± Nan said, playing down their praise. ¡°It¡¯s more responsibility, a bit stressful. But I get to pick my team and don¡¯t have to focus as hard on recruiting.¡±


    ¡°Max, you don¡¯t have the faintest idea how lucky you are,¡± Kate said with a vicious side-look. ¡°I don¡¯t understand how you put up with him. He¡¯s the laziest person I¡¯ve ever met. I¡¯m not even sure he¡¯s mine! They must¡¯ve swapped at the hospital.¡± She laughed and everyone joined in except for sis who forlornly stared into her phone, Harold staring into the void. ¡°I mean these things happen!¡±


    ¡°Good looks. That¡¯s his saving grace,¡± Nanski replied with warmth and a kiss on the cheek for reassurance.


    Harold scoffed, pointed at me and exclaimed ¡°Him!? But he looks like a bloody mop turned upside down,¡± which amused even sis. His hearing aid must¡¯ve latched on. I took a big swig from the glass, gasped as the bubbles pop-pop-popped down my throat, sinking deeper into the pills in real-time. You¡¯re not supposed to mix Tramadol and booze. It¡¯s bad for the liver ¨C and as with any painkiller you¡¯re more inclined to get bum-fucked in the brain without noticing it.


    ¡°Hah! Good one Harold. Man of the hour! Shove an enema up your ass,¡± I said while flicking my hair back.


    Mom¡¯s jaw dropped. ¡°You didn¡¯t just say that! The food isn¡¯t even here yet and you¡¯ve already managed to ruin it. He didn¡¯t say that! Does he talk to you like that Nan? My own son!¡±


    ¡°Ah shut yer yap woman. He¡¯s only teasing,¡± Harold said, which did shut her up. Just in time for drinks. I picked up the phone, wrote I¡¯ll be in at 10. C u then? Nan took a deep breath. She knew what was going on. I could feel it. The double edged sword that was my conundrum sliced through the air and any hopes of a peaceful evening fell lifeless and limp into my lap. If she would¡¯ve done some deplorable social act, grind me to a pulp in front of my family, I could at least feel justified in ditching her in favor of Teddy. We hadn¡¯t even faced our entree and all which radiated from her onto me, the honey smooth devotion, squeezing my hand every time a noxious comment flew my way, told a tale discordant with my hopes. She knew very well that I hated being in the M, that I hated every single occasion that forced us to gather there, and simply by the press of my hand she swatted away the ghouls of discomfort. It would be a tough sell, rendezvous avec le Teddy. A fact of life far beneath a recipient such as her.


    After we¡¯d all recovered from the initial ordeals the conversations proceeded as they always do. Mom talked about everyone who¡¯d done her wrong and who was fat and caught cheating on their spouse and who¡¯s life was going to shit and why society was shit, and for the occasion she¡¯d even prepared a little speech about the Arabs in MCity which hinted that she was indeed capable of writing novel material; she laid sleepless at night worrying that some barbarian was gonna throw a grenade through our bedroom window.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be up on the tenth floor mom,¡± I said in an attempt to calm her but she wasn¡¯t listening. While this went on I fell into the usual Harold-trap, which sinks its teeth in if you happen to ask how he¡¯s doing. He gave me a detailed list of all his new medications, which doctors he¡¯d seen, how much pain he was in and which knee had swollen up to the size of a football when, meticulously detailed with dates and locations. Then he pulled his bit about the Arabs and the shootings in MCity, with the conclusion that we should avoid them all together.


    ¡°They¡¯ll ask for directions and BAM!¡± he snapped and slapped the table. ¡°There¡¯s a knife in your face! I remember when there weren¡¯t so many Arabs. Oh yes, very different. You didn¡¯t have to lock your door.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not like you¡¯re forced to lock it now Harold,¡± I replied. ¡°Do you frequently have your door handles rattled? I don¡¯t lock the door when I¡¯m home.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡¯s the point of having a door? You better start.¡±


    When the rest of them gobbled down dessert I was ready to leave. Nan had restocked twice already. Judging by the time spent in the bathroom I deduced that she¡¯d snorted on both occasions, but you really couldn¡¯t tell. She was pro like that. Always able to carry herself no matter what storm she¡¯d summoned internally. When she got up to pop round three Mom cast a shrewd smile in my direction.


    ¡°So what are you going to do over the summer Max?¡± she said as Nan left the range of hearing, taking on a parentally condescending tone. ¡°You can¡¯t leech on Nan like this. It¡¯s embarrassing for a mother. You¡¯re a parasite. Do you ever think about what you¡¯re doing to her?¡±


    Sis, who¡¯d been quiet all evening, apart from feeble conversations with me and Penelope, asked her to quit it. Mom snapped back like a viper, slumping sis back down in her seat.


    ¡°He is! A worthless parasite. Don¡¯t you feel shame?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten my old job back.¡±


    ¡°Selling TV subscriptions? That¡¯s just what the world needs. More TV! Aren¡¯t you going to do something useful with your life? Look at Nanna. She¡¯s working for Amnesty, Max. I can¡¯t believe it. Honestly, I can¡¯t. You were such a nice little boy. So polite and sensitive. And look at you now. She¡¯s going to leave you if you carry on like this.¡±


    ¡°So what? If I¡¯d been uniformed up outside a storefront it¡¯d be all fine, right? Now cus¡¯ it¡¯s over the phone I¡¯m a lowlife even though I can make more than everyone at this table.¡±


    Harold asked Penelope what we were talking about, but she silenced him with a pat.


    ¡°She¡¯s a team leader for crying out loud!¡± she went on, working off a fiery momentum. ¡°What are you? An entry level nobody! When you quit ¨C when, not if ¨C nobody will even remember your name.¡±


    Sis got up, grabbed her coat off the chair¡¯s back and left without saying a word.


    ¡°See what you did Max!¡± mom continued and gesticulated after Nell. ¡°Your sister is fragile right now, and you don¡¯t even have the empathy to spare her this¡­ this!¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± I said. ¡°Like I did that.¡±


    ¡°We worry about you,¡± Penelope said in her soft grandma voice looking at me like I was wholly alien. ¡°Harold can¡¯t sleep at night because he worries so much for you.¡±


    ¡°Are you on drugs again? Your pupils are awfully small.¡±


    Nan soared out of the bathroom looking real content. Giving her the glance, I got up, took my jacket and said goodbye without waiting for their replies. My chest felt like it was about to explode. As I stormed with heavy stomps for the exit, Harold¡¯s voice boomed over the restaurant chatter. ¡°What the hell did you say to him this time?¡±


    I pushed the door open, wrestled against the wind¡¯s pushback, stepped out into the lamp-lit darkness, fished up a smoke and tried to fuse it.


    ¡°She¡¯s not nice to you,¡± my sister said, almost making me drop my ciggie.


    ¡°Shit! Well¡­ No. She¡¯s not.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m feeling better. Thanks for asking.¡± She rolled her eyes.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think you wanted to make it a topic back there. That¡¯s nice. No?¡±


    ¡°Sure. It was too¡­ busy.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll love it here. Polar fucking opposite. Full gridlock.¡±


    Nan came out the door, cast an odd eye at sis and snaked herself around my arm.


    ¡°Fuck me it¡¯s cold!¡± she shrieked. ¡°How are you Nellie? How¡¯re you holding up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine. It was nice seeing you.¡± She quickly spun around and ca-dak ca-dak ca-daked into the night. I wanted to have a sit-down, get to the heart of this little matter but there was something brewing between Nell and Nan, out of reach, out of tune. For later, I decide.


    We started for the train station, catching the MCity train for the last time in what I hoped would be forever.


    ¡°She creeps me out,¡± Nan said after some distance.


    ¡°Mom?¡±


    ¡°No. Your sister.¡±


    ¡°You creep me out. How can you enjoy these things? Everyone¡¯s so predictable and uppidy, like they¡¯re the Rothschilds and I¡¯m the bastard mom had with the poolboy. They¡¯re all fucking miserable, and still sit there like Christ¡¯s disciples all righteous ¨C like it¡¯s their Lord-given duty to piss on me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s family. Family is important.¡±


    I knew this was a truthful conviction, which made it all the more painful to attend all the dinners and birthdays and christmases. Because she actually wanted to. Part of our courting had included a complete indoctrination into Nan''s family. From the first day it was like they¡¯d been waiting for me since forever, with the exception of her fazher zhe famous architect (he was a complete failure in his field, seeing that he hadn¡¯t lifted a finger to get a job since he¡¯d published his research on the local color pigmentation of seventeenth century rural timber houses in southwestern Swooden. After getting closer to, and effectively strong arming the man, I realized that he, in his mind, consciously or uncon, had avoided all pursuit of prestige with the aim of freezing in time an image of himself that he very much adored, an image which would crumble under the pinned weight of any failure private or public¡ªa man in a stasis chamber, trapped in his luftschlotte, impervious to the mood of his surroundings and its denizens, blinded by his own light to such a degree that he couldn¡¯t see that they were all turning away from him). With emotions at an all time high, I fell in love with the little gathering of people she called home. Her wee sister, maturing brother, mother spiritualis, and the father. Well. There can only be one occupant on the throne. In their constellation I found something I wasn¡¯t aware that I¡¯d been deprived of my entire life. Unity in blood, love and kinsmanship, a solid mass constituted by individual bodies all moving towards a nameless goal that encompassed everything in a certain place and time. Many are the hours spent with Nanski''s mother in her kitchen, dissecting topics true and folly; chasing her little sister through the garden; molding her little brother into a person I¡¯d been proud to call my confidant. And all the while this was going on, unfolding, her father slipped deeper into a rut that had begun long before I made my first appearance. Smitten, that¡¯s the word. I was absolutely smitten with the love bestowed by the favorable quartett of her family. But with devotion comes expectations, and Nan''s family was no exception to the rule. Over the course of that first year, her mother had bought an apartment in MCity as a sort of preamble for a divorce, and her father had started pissing more frequently in every direction, drenching the aire in a rancid desperation of a man gripped by a fear of losing it all, a fear he didn¡¯t dare to say out loud. So yes, family is important. To some.


    With the train station in view, clock striking four to nine, the moment I¡¯d been repressing began to build up inside. There¡¯s a window, a perfect window for delivering disappointments, when the receiver is most favorably inclined to absorb information not wanted, and such a moment presents itself on intuition. A shudder of the adrenal gland, an unannounced burst in the flow rates of liquids. Blink and you¡¯ll miss it. I was about to open my mouth, swallow the bitter pill but she beat me to it.


    ¡°Who were you texting?¡± she asked, not in anger nor suspicion. Just a matter of factly, simple inquiry, pleading eyes asking for honesty and respect.


    ¡°Theodore,¡± I replied, a stone dropping onto frozen waters.


    ¡°What does he want?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ He needs to see me. Tonight. Says he¡¯s in a bad place, and¡­ I gotta go.¡±


    No response. Her arm lingering around mine before unfurling, two steps ahead, then three, pantomiming the distance between us.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I asked for this you know, like there¡¯s any other place in the world where I¡¯d rather be. This is big, today is big. You know I¡¯ve been helping him out. I mean we don¡¯t talk about it but¡­ And I think. He was committed you know, spent months in an asylum and we go way back and all but¡­ Suicide you know. I¡¯m afraid that if he doesn¡¯t have me, he don¡¯t have nobody to steer him off the edge.¡±


    She paced slow, arms crossed, warming her hands, feet dragging against the pebbled asphalt of the train platform. I felt a mounting panic, questioning my timing or selfishness in betraying what was supposed to be only ours, a time-space earmarked for our future together. I nearly uttered the murderous words of I¡¯ll cancel it. No difference or good it would do, our first night in a new life had already been tainted, downgraded to second-rate, so I did what felt like the only way out. I bit my tongue, bought tickets from the machine, watched her drag her feet in circles while staring into the ground. The familiar scream of grinding metal tore through the night, lights prying open the darkness to announce the approaching train. It screeched to a halt, nobody lining up to get off. She picked a door, I sheepishly hopped on over to join her. As they depressurized, swung open, she took her hood down and looked at me with a sense of insurmountable loss.


    ¡°He will destroy us you know,¡± she said, and walked onto the train.

 Chapter 4 – edoproo

    Though the ride in was a veritable nightmare, I stayed true to my gameplan, Bill Burr¡¯s voice repeating bob and weave, bob and weave like a mantra in my head, except Nan wasn¡¯t throwing punches. She sat staring out the window into an unlit landscape, moon hidden behind thick clouds. Going over to her side of the train car felt like the only natural thing to do¡ªbut it would spell my own doom. I¡¯d slip, sure as shits, try to patch it all up, nestle myself into her bosom to be cradled. Maybe she knew this. Maybe she was waiting for me to creep on over, to crack and plead for my very existence. She¡¯d only done me like this once prior, when she caught me texting with an ex, Natalia, in a tone too explicit for comfort. That¡¯s the problem. My baseline is fine tuned. She got the map and guidebook to my circuit scheme, knows it by heart, instantly recognizing when I skip a key or tweak a note. She knows all my crevices, dark places. So when I¡¯ve done fucked up, no matter the scale, she always knows, and when it¡¯s real bad, according to history, she resorts to silence. It¡¯s the worst treatment you could ask for. Punch me in the face, twist my nipples, anything to numb the thundering angst, anything but a roasting in my own thoughts.


    In the stew of thought I started digging. It didn¡¯t make no sense, why the voice within didn¡¯t allow no objections, no alternatives but the course currently dragging me along. Nan was my Eldorado, these things you know by heart. The perfect alignment of stars, time, parallell universes, colliding and rocking the status quo so far out of order that we could achieve anything we wanted, reach any height. And for Teddy it was all in jeopardy. The echo of why mayn, just go over to her mayn, just cancel on him mayn found no solace, no pity. It was firmly decided. Strap myself to the seat, lace my lips shut. These were the last things I wanted to do, visibly inflicting hurt on the golden ticket out of normality. Couldn¡¯t blame it on the boredom, nor the restless triggerhappy nincompoop ready to fire off drama just to stir shit up. This was a drive, not a choice. And the head kept spinning, until it struck me somewhere on the outskirts of Schwedalia. I¡¯d been smothering myself ever since I met her. Hitching a ride on her life-wagon, leaving me and mine behind. In the duo of me and her I¡¯d found paradise, but the garden of Eden is no gated community no more. The entry came with a fee, a forced enrollment into her squads and friendly clicks, people that weren¡¯t my people by choice. Nan was the only choice I made, if you assume I had any willpower innit, but the rest of it, however much pleasure I took in partaking, wasn¡¯t a route laid down by my own two feet. I was being led along on foreign waters, and someone inside me didn¡¯t seem to enjoy it all too much. Nan being the extrovert, we were always bouncing from one place to the next, and in between touching homebase I¡¯d been holding my breath. Playing the part. Dragging the mask along, and now it was becoming too heavy. Shit. This was my Rubicon. Teddy has always been mine by choice, the first of his kind. Nan the second. I was living someone else''s life, and the ruins of old self had been embodied into one shattered man pleading for help. And with that realization, I started to relax.


    We rolled in through the gaping tunnel, taking the MCity line underground to the central station before heading further into town, to the Church of Saint Johannes, where we both would¡¯ve gone off. Where she would get off. I stood up, waited for her to turn around, to say that it was ok, that it wasn¡¯t ok. Walked over to the door, fixed on her, just a millisecond of her gaze to sentence my future. Nothing. The machine hissed, doors slid sideways, footsteps extended. The distance to the platform couldn¡¯t have been more than a decimeter, yet it felt like I was stepping out into freefall, into total darkness. Rounding the door, I looked at her through the window. Not a tremble nor shudder. She remained completely still as people populated seats around her. Doors closed, train in motion. Running after it felt silly. Even if she turned to watch, the damage was already done. I looked around as the sound of the train powering away grew louder and louder, then faded, spotting nothing resembling Teddy. He¡¯d been a smart boyo not meeting up on the platform, parading my betrayal and displaying in plain sight what I¡¯d tossed her aside for. A good boyo indeed.


    As I was shuttled back to sea level on the longest of escalators, I had to pinch my arm to refocus on the task at hand. There was only one variant of me leading the way to victory in the unity ahead, and I¡¯d do no good to either of them if clad in the shrouds of a mope, burning the candle at both ends. Walking through the entrance hall he materialized, slouching around in circles staring at his feet. I snuck up full stealth, jammed a finger between his ribs, tensed my throat and said ¡°What¡¯s in the backpack¡± as dark as I could. He jumped a foot.


    ¡°T¡¯fucks wrong with you. Is just rotten, God daym.¡±


    One dash to close the distance, put one palm dead center on his ribcage, snaked around his back with the other and pushed towards me. There was indeed a beating heart, jolted into high gear.


    ¡°Get off it,¡± he bellowed and grinned, pushing me off him. ¡°Daym. Where you wanna go?¡±


    ¡°Beats me,¡± I said with a broad smile. ¡°My place is burnt to shit, and I ain¡¯t going near your sister¡¯s. Let¡¯s go take a dip, to the beach! A promenade will do us all good.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s freezing, man,¡± but I was already moving towards the portside exit, maneuvering between packs of loud rednecks swarming in from the peripheral municipalities, dressed up in the height of trash-fash, moosed up in checkered shirts, cotton dresses slicked to bodies, thonglines outlined, seeking the big times in MCity, clutching Xid¨¦ or Spendrups Gold in jittery claws. It took a distance before I realized Teddy wasn¡¯t following. He was stuck still in the same spot, hands in pouch, looking all morose. I gestured for the boy, he shook his head in decline, reciprocated the move. I had to oblige. The station¡¯s newly waxed marble carried me like ice as I skated back to him.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter Teddy-boyo? How can I be of service?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not walking,¡± he replied, shuffling his feet.


    ¡°Why not? Dock-side stroll. Maybe we¡¯ll find a sailor¡¯s cook to sook.¡±


    ¡°Bus.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said, laughed. ¡°Whatever moves. Hand us a beer will¡¯ya.¡±


    So we cracked an Albanian lager, the kind you can¡¯t find on the shelf, smuggled in from the Homeland, the Old Country, 12 percent or somewhere in the region, and timed a bus headed for the outskirts, meandering between dead grain storages and crumbled ship yards, boardwalks and skyscrapers, until the tar black sea swallowed the seaside excess and its lego block apartment complexes. The vast emptiness contrasted by million dollar villas on the other side of the road and their owners hidden from sight, the made who¡¯d never sucked the bitter, vomit inducing juice of an Albanian eagle.


    When we got off at the mini-golf, we were giggling hard at something, swerving into the night, leaving street lamps and pavement behind. It was always paradoxically warmer here, down by the sea, less windy, and this night the shallow waters around our stretch of sand didn¡¯t produce so much as a hint of waves. The anomalous opposite of Pisstown sitting stoicly on the South coast, bearing the brunt of the continental winds slowly grinding it to dust. Sand smooth as silk, nestling into every crack. We were rising. Teddy uplifted, jovial even, was a sight to behold and I didn¡¯t wanna go digging yet. But I had to. Soon. It was my duty as caretaker of the boyo¡¯s soul.


    ¡°You remember lil¡¯ Gregor?¡± he asked, cracking another horror can.


    ¡°The little rat? Chiquito rata?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, so I was on leave. This was a few weeks ago. I was on leave and strolled around with this character from psych. Name was Herman or Nicholas¡ªsomething like that. We¡¯re just aimlessly walking on benzo and he stops at this doorway. Says he gotta go see a guy about a thing, and I didn¡¯t wanna stand out there in the middle of February, fluttering all by myself right?¡±


    ¡°Sure don¡¯t. Might contract all sorts of nasties.¡±


    ¡°So he knows the code, and up we go to the top floor ¨C climbing a hundred steps ¨C and he starts knocking all furious on this door.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? This way. Pier 9. I wanna dip my toes.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re standing there for like ten minutes but he won¡¯t give up. He¡¯s just hammering and hammering, totally ignoring me. Finally this drained junky opens and just stands there. I mean you should¡¯a seen her. She looked like an after-after-meth mugshot.¡±


    ¡°What a life.¡±


    ¡°Herman pushes her, tumbles like a mitten. Storms the place, going from room to room yelling ¡®You piece of shit! I¡¯ll fucking kill you!¡¯ until he doesn¡¯t. Goes all silent. Now I have to go in there.¡±


    ¡°What happened to the fiend?¡±


    ¡°She passed out or something. Don¡¯t remember. So there¡¯s shit all over the floor. The most random collection of absolute trash, like shredded tracksuits, circuit boards, stuffed animals¡ªand this film covering every inch of the walls. Something like motor oil, and the place had a metallic smell. Some proper horror-flick shit. So I peek into the rooms. It¡¯s the same havoc all over. Then I look into the last one. A baseball bat comes flying right at me. Missed by an inch, hits the wall by some act of God, and I¡¯m like ¡®Oh shit you¡¯re on your own¡¯, skip over all the junk towards the door, tearing down towers and stacks as I go. Now the junky bitch is standing there with a knife repeating ¡®You shouldna dun dat to mee,¡¯ over and over. ¡®Shouldna dun dat¡¯ and ¡®Imma killya¡¯, frothing and grunting.¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Holy fucking shit,¡± I said, actually rivetted.


    ¡°Yeah. I run into the kitchen to find a weapon, and this is not, like, thought out or something. Lizard-brain mode. Adrenaline rush through the roof and I¡¯m sure I¡¯m gonna die. Now guess who pokes his fucking head through the door if not Gregor the Rat.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re lying.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill myself this instant if I am. And the look on his face. I¡¯ll never forget it. You know what he says?¡±


    ¡°What he say?¡±


    ¡°He says ¡®I¡¯m sorry for chasing you with the tire iron Teddy.¡¯¡±


    ¡°What the hell does that even mean?¡±


    ¡°And I said ¡®Yeah?¡¯ And get this, he breaks out in tears like ¡®I¡¯m sorry Ted! I dunno why I did all that shit. I¡¯m sorry Ted! Sorry Teddy sorry sorry sorry!¡¯ So I¡¯m still like need to get the fuck out of here, but he drags me into the room and Herman is laying there in a pile of clothes all bloody and passed out. Greggy-boy preps a needle ¡®for old times sake,¡¯ tries to make amends, and all the while he¡¯s just rambling about how much he liked me when we were kids and that he wasn¡¯t really trying to hit me with the tire iron back then. I gracefully decline the spoonful, says I gotta be somewhere and try to leave but the junky bitch is still standing there like a watchdog, foaming and mumbling. So I go back, says to Gregor that he needs to move her. You¡¯re never gonna guess what he did.¡±


    ¡°What he do?¡±


    ¡°He whistled. Like a dog-calling whistle.¡±


    ¡°She come?¡±


    ¡°Sure did! She comes whaltsing in like she been out shopping or summin¡¯, careful not to step on dear Nico. I¡¯m just about to vacate, and he says to me, as he¡¯s pushing the needle in: ¡®You still look like you did when we was kids Teddy. Don¡¯t you ever change.¡¯¡±


    ¡°Jesus christ. What a novelty! How did old Herman take it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°What? You left him there?¡±


    ¡°Of course I fucking left him there! He didn¡¯t come back to the ward.¡±


    ¡°So he died?¡±


    ¡°Chopped up and turned into a circuit board.¡±


    Old Gregorian was a staple character on the Pisstown scene, a scrawny little kid not too far off Teddy in build and infamy. There were lots of them, growing up, but none of them carried the same rassmatass as Theodore. Degens and lowlifes, no-goods and would-be losers that I through my vocation had kept up a bond to in some shape or form. When I wasn¡¯t the Man, it was Gregory, and if he wasn¡¯t it then it was Ekky or Polanski or Jocky the Freak or Midge the Midget and the list goes on. I once heard that Pisstown had the highest rate for drug-using adolescents per capita, attributed to by the ferry landing and the hoard of Polish and Bulgarian lorries rolling into the dockyards daily. A theory, sure, what you¡¯d expect from a bureaucrats deep reflection on the matter. But the Poles were only really good for a bottle of vodka, whiskey if you were unlucky, and there were people who¡¯d made some serious mulah stealing bikes from the Pisstown trainstation, hauling them over to the docks and trading them for drank. Bicycles was the only currency they accepted, the lorry drivers, that and ass.


    The ocean was all coals, still, occasionally gulping as if to remind us of its treacherous intent. We hadn¡¯t spotted a soul since the bus, which didn¡¯t strike me as odd seeing that it was late May and still cold as fuck according to norm. Newly fitted planks, smelling like varnish and pine, creaked as they carried us away from shore, out into the serenity. The red eagled cans had suppressed my Tramadol shivers, making me warm and tingly. We sat down at the end. I cracked another. It was time.


    ¡°This is nice I tell ya. Just the spot,¡± I said, kicking my shoes off.


    ¡°It¡¯s freezing, and he says it¡¯s nice. What¡¯re you on?¡±


    ¡°Some shit. And you? Staying off it?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°But you hangin¡¯ with your sister? No? Imagine the day she¡¯ll go straight.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Well fuck that then. Why did you call? Like, I don¡¯t mind hangin¡¯ but I got this itch.¡±


    He looked down at his feet and I¡¯d been containing an urge for a few weeks now that wasn¡¯t willing to sit down. Had to seize the moment so to speak. I got up, started peeling off layer after layer with dual intention. I knew it would make him react, crack the mold.


    ¡°You¡¯re not well. Put your clothes back on Max.¡±


    ¡°Tell me what happened Teddy-boy-o.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up for a peep show! Alright! You got some weird fucking methods.¡±


    ¡°This ain¡¯t about you Theodore. You feeling lonely?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna talk about it. It¡¯s embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°More embarrassing than this?¡± I was stark naked, walking around in circles, hips swinging, rump wagging, regret oozing up the spine like an emergency override when an icy breeze grazed me. But there was no glory in backing down. I had to do it. It was the only way.


    ¡°I¡¯ll jump,¡± I said, dead serious.


    ¡°You¡¯ll go into shock. I¡¯m not saving you.¡±


    ¡°Is it a girl?¡±


    Teddy swigged hard from the can, moaned vehemently and I could feel him surrender through the pitch black. My body shone like a reflex, absorbing the city lights. The whitest of white. A hue only attainable by gingers and albinos.


    ¡°Oh Teddy boy-o-boy. He¡¯s in love!¡± And with that conclusion I raced to the edge of the pier, jumped headfirst into the void. Teddy shouted something when I was airborne but it didn¡¯t matter. I was an idiot. It was one of the worst ideas I¡¯d ever had and I squealed right before breaking surface. At first it felt like stepping into a cold shower, body instinctively pulling away to save you from a catastrophic end. Then there was nothing. Blank. Complete silence. In that moment I felt pure calm, as if the water was a portal to a mental dimension. All that monkey chatter drowned out, making room for the purity of nothingness. I thought imagine if this is the end. Then it was just cold as fuck. Like the worst place on earth cold.


    ¡°Hoooly fucking shit! Ohly shit!¡±


    ¡°He jumps in the water, eight degrees in the air. Surprise surprise! It¡¯s cold.¡±


    I took a few strokes but it wasn¡¯t getting better. Speaking was near impossible with my limbs stiffening. Though the freedom of unsheathed skin, it was simple, so innocently simple. Until it wasn¡¯t. I got up in a panic and frantically leapt around.


    ¡°Looooveli,¡± I gasped between the thrusts and gawks. ¡°J-j-just daym. Tell me about the girl. Is it serious?¡±


    ¡°Serious?¡± He scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s retarded. Null.¡±


    ¡°Who is she?¡±


    ¡°Just a girl. Emily. Knows Emma and I think she¡¯s been trying to set us up.¡±


    ¡°A match made in heaven if it was set up by your sister. C¡¯mon, give us the details.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to tell! There were people over, at Emma¡¯s, and she was there with some ripped nazi looking fucker. The ubermensch type. It was¡­ erm. Clear ¨C that they were an item.¡±


    Despite his outlook this was a good thing. Teddy-boy was capable of emotional courage. Who could¡¯ve guessed it? It messed up my development scheme, timelines offset, but this was not the hour to bicker.


    ¡°Bah! That¡¯s nothing,¡± I said, pacing around instead of jumping, feeling my blood pushing its way back through sludgy veins, stoking the fire.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel like nothing. We¡¯ve gone out for coffee. Coffee Max! I¡¯ve never done that with anyone.¡±


    ¡°Take your clothes off.¡±


    ¡°Stop fucking around. I¡¯m serious.¡±


    ¡°So am I. You, my good sir, needs a reboot. I know the feels Teddy. It feels fucking rotten. Like you¡¯re the meekest worm in the wormhole. Like you wanna implode and never reassemble. But it¡¯s part of it. Part of the misery, the joy, the full experience. You can¡¯t see the grail until you¡¯ve waded through morasses. So get nekkid and fogetabbad¡¯er.¡±


    ¡°I told her I liked her,¡± he said, audibly sinking.


    ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a bad thing. Fuck her! And fuck nazi Pieter. He¡¯s a listless cunt who¡¯ll die forgotten. Not you Teddy boy-o, not for you. Now stop being such a bitch and strip.¡±


    ¡°No?¡±


    ¡°What are ya? A fag or something? Concealing a boner? Spring to action,¡± I said, grabbing my flacid penis, swinging it against the imagined rabble around us. ¡°I¡¯ll rub you if you¡¯re not a piece of clothing short within ten seconds.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a dumb fucker like you.¡±


    ¡°Can you hear that Teddy? It¡¯s my cock swatting away your divinity.¡±


    He started laughing, like heartedly laughing. Like he did when we were kids, a bellowing roar of sudden demonic possession, back when we didn¡¯t care about anything, when we were the plague of the world. When we were all we had. And then he started squirming.


    ¡°Only if you promise to save me,¡± he said, muffled by the shirt going over his head. I studied his exposed spine, jagged ridge of needle vertebrae trying to poke a hole through his skin, smiling to myself out of sight.


    ¡°Sure Theodore, I¡¯ll go under right alongside you.¡±

 Chapter 5 – bosse

    With the sun sizzling my back I walked through downtown, back to the MediCon business complex just off the main shopping street. The weather had done a full one-eighty, summoning skirts light as the wind, shorts pushing the boundaries of decency, crop tops and a general sense of attraction; a maroon veil had descended upon Mcity like a love-drunk filter, smiting hag and drag alike. I felt good. An object for the winks and twitching dimples clad on fags and females. It was my first day back on the grind. I¡¯d popped uptown for a luncheon with Nell, sniffing out the scope of her rut, why she¡¯d willingly moved back with Mom, but she wasn¡¯t too keen on sharing. It wasn¡¯t all in vain though. A free meal at a fancy place stacked with the upper echelon of Coommerce, courtesy of Kate Marrow (and very typical of Selma), gave me a reason to get away from the horde of telemarketers, now my kin, and their endless rundowns of deals almost landed. In the elevator, the lobby, at McDonald¡¯s over Flurries, smokes, coffee, it¡¯s all they talk about. Funny that is, nobody says a word about when they actually push a deal through the line. But when they got a hunch, based on some esoteric metric, that a fish got off the hook just as they were about to reel in, they¡¯ll give you the full transcript.


    I was uplifted by a sense of ownership. My step was mine, as was the air surrounding me. I didn''t feel like a wage-slave. In fact, the timing was perfect. It marked the definitive end of an exercise regime spanning four months. A vocation of flesh¡ªmodifying myself for Nan''s indulgence, spending every waking moment preparing body, mind and soul for her arrival, plowing books, biking out to the trails in the pine forests by the ocean, running the 5K at a pulse or 10K for endurance, lifting logs at the outdoor military gym, honing every inch of sinew and muscle, infusing myself with an electrifying anticipation ready to discharge the moment she came home. And now, as would¡¯ve been the natural order of things, I was entering phase two: starvation. Degradation ¨C rejuvenation ¨C re-degradation. The eternity cycle. I looked like an army boy, jacked yet skinny, sculpted out of the tears of lardies, and now I would let it all crumble into a skeletal wreck. It''s the philosopher¡¯s stone. An off-brand variant of Burroughs'' junk depraved cells. When you rob the cells of food they start to eat each other, killing off the weak, extracting rot and death, vacating space where life can grow. And so it goes. I wasn¡¯t going around telling this to people though. I¡¯m not insane.


    Some days I¡¯d walk down to the train station, wait for her train to roll in, read, watch the lorries from Poland zipping off and on the Swinoujcie ferry on the other end of the trainyard, getting hassled for smokes by Stajna, Pisstown¡¯s most refined connoisseur of speed and weed. And all the books, good Lord I¡¯d turn around twenty books a month. When Liz and I met, after she got comfortable calling me out, she said that my vocabulary was so narrow it was bordering on illiteracy. A dope dealer''s lingo. Shortly thereafter she gave me A million pieces, a book on some junkie getting through rehab. It was an auto-biography, got picked up and shilled by Oprah¡¯s book club, which made it all the more hilarious when the bubble popped and it got out that everything in the book was pure fiction. Needless to say, people got upset. All of it was for Nan in the beginning, my cultural education, drudging through the pages like the trenches of Verdun, all for her approval, but somewhere along the line I started enjoying it. It took on its own life. When I didn¡¯t go pick her up, I¡¯d have dinner hot and ready for her arrival, apartment looking spic and span, laundry done and folded. Before I cooked her that first meal I¡¯d never even flopped a pancake. But I had a knack for it. Daddyo had enforced his culinary wisdom upon my deaf ears since I was twelve, thinking that it didn¡¯t register. Apparently it did, or it¡¯s a genetic thing. That, or she was lying through her teeth. It felt distant now. All of it. Like another life completely. A dream where lack was some alien concept. Three days we¡¯d been in MCity. Three days and I¡¯d already made a mess of our life. Pushed her away. But gaps can be bridged. The unfamiliarity of the situation, the subtle chills in her touch, the doubt and insecurity she inevitably must be feeling. But I had a plan.


    On the office courtyard, schoolyard sectioning ruled supreme. Arabs in one corner, Suedis in one, old fucks in a third and lastly the team leaders ¨C our prefects ¨C huddled together in secrecy. Loners were sprinkled at random between them. I spotted Benny amidst the Arabs sucking down on a fag. He waved as I walked over.


    ¡°Ei look who''s back for more eh! Pale blyat can¡¯t get enough,¡± Hasan yelled, a tall, skinny Iraqi with horrible posture, thrusting his hand forward to initiate the usual slap n¡¯ clap meet n¡¯ greet acrobatics. This caught on to the rest of em'' like a plague, accompanied by ei man''s and sup suedi¡¯s.


    ¡°He up there flyin'' I swear. Fadhi say he already shipped six packages.¡±


    ¡°Ooooh shit! Calm down whitey. Save sum for us eh? Motumba got twelve kids to feed.¡±


    ¡°It''s the dopedealer swag,¡± Muhdi said, punching me on the arm. ¡°Real smooth bitch when he runs those lushy lips.¡±


    ¡°Pfft. I ain''t holding,¡± I replied, held my arms up for a frisk check. Moustaffa took the bait and went searching, concluding the frisk with a surprise cock-tap.


    ¡°He''s clean,¡± he said and winked all cheap, triggering a roaring response. Now I had to chase him down, slap him on the back of the head, punch his arm or return the cock-tap¡ªcustoms be damned. I was faster than him and caught up quick, pounced like a puma on that oiled up head with a klatch bouncing kak-kak-kak over the courtyard, adding a broadsided kick staining his designer jeans-clad asscheek with a dirty footprint for good measure. Another salve of laughter drenched the courtyard, and then they all fell to silence, waiting for the Moustaffic response. As he turned to face me I blanked out, gave him the psychotic stare, leaned towards him with fists clenched. The usual brute routine. He just stood there, doing nothing. They were whispering behind us, holding their breath.


    ¡°Junkie sharmoota,¡± he snarled, grazing past me towards the building. Mudhi crept up from behind, put his arm around Moustaffa and sent a sly grin my way.


    Mudhi was ok. We went to the same primary school for five years, him, Teddy and I, before it got shut down due to negligent management. Definition of a hustler, pure and simple. When me and Teddy started hanging out again Mudhi was still in scope, a typical character well liked by everyone on the scene, listed at every party, privy to every bit of fuss and drama played out at the finer tiers of Pisstown soci¨¦t¨¦. Places where Teddy and I weren¡¯t welcome. It¡¯s not like we were outcasts in any literal sense. There was always room for a stop-and-chat or a smoke whenever we bumped into crowds down at the net cafe, but we weren¡¯t no Mudhis. Teddy and him grew up on the same block, a place commonly known for its population of less than ideal families lenient on parental supervision, focusing their efforts on the disciplinary branches. The Foundries gave birth to a special breed of rag-tags, like Teddy, Mudhi, Sezimanski, Gregory, the Orban Twins, CP John, Emo Thomski, Abdel and a horde of prime specimens best forgotten. The whole area was like a warzone. You never knew when a rock would come soaring through the air, splitting your head open cus¡¯ a couple of guideless little shits had run out of PlayStation time. I spent part of my early youth there, before I got friendly with Teddy. Always on edge, always on the lookout for trouble brewin. So when Teddy and I rekindled our bond at the budding of our mid-teens, we weren¡¯t without history. And that history can¡¯t be told in full without Mudhi.


    In highschool we used to tend Mudhi¡¯s dad¡¯s shop for a pack of smokes each, pranking in the front, wrestling in the back. We didn¡¯t exactly consider it childlabor back then, it was just a means to pass time, and Mudhi¡¯s daddyo wasn¡¯t fostering a human right¡¯s activist. One night when his Dad was manning the shop in his lonesome it was allegedly robbed by a pack of hooded hoodlums armed with a BB-gun, and Mudhi¡¯s dad got shot in the arm, jacked for a whole month¡¯s worth of sales. When he cashed it all back from the insurance company, plus a hefty medical insurance payout, it wasn¡¯t exactly Cluedo figuring out who the culprit was. When the family car got stolen one night, found crushed at the bottom of a ravine four miles out of Pisstown, and the insurance company once again had to wiggle their coin sacks, it was shrugged off as another day in the struggles of Al-Hemza, Father and Son. Everybody knew that Mudhi pulled schemes left and right¡ªmainly insurance fraud, and his current deal as far as I knew was this: Convince an upstanding citizen on paper to sign a two year phone subscription including some fancy-ass phone. Use a proxy or VPN, routing the connection via an internet cafe or other public wifi, when placing the order¡ªjust to make the fish think the metrics of the scam are all KGB level, covert and professional. A week later the phone arrives. You send a third party to pick it up with a fake ID matching the ID of the person who placed the order. Wait until the first invoice arrives, fish calls up the phone company, claims identity theft. By then the phone has already been cracked, unlocked, shipped to the Baltics ¨C and the money is split 50/50 between Mudhi and the fish signing the deal. Mudhi pays up front, which is the punchlining subtlety of the scheme. Mudhi the Benefactor. Mudhi the Thrill. Mudhi putting 500 dollars in your pocket if you sign this paper. You could do it without the signee¡¯s consent too. All you needed was their social security number. He tried it on me during my first day on the job, almost a year ago. But I had enough wits about me to decline on suspicion of tomfuckery¡ªwhich was real proper. He confided that I was a good boy, that it was a test of character. Naturally he¡¯d never bend me over. Naturally. Getting the phone company to actually believe that you were a victim of fraud was near impossible, and in the end the fish¡¯d be paying seven times more than what it got just to avoid getting marked in some bailiff¡¯s records. And Mudhi? Well this was all on the victim. The victim is the moron for not convincing the phone company. The IP was routed via Ljubljana len! He wouldn¡¯t say how many people he¡¯d fucked over, but by the look of his attire and swagger in his walk, he was doing good.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Benny lumbered over to me in his jolly wiggle, smile in his eyes. ¡°Nice,¡± he said in his patented teddybear style.


    ¡°Right? Set the fucker straight.¡±


    ¡°Why are you up on the twelfth floor, man?¡±


    ¡°Clueless. Absolutely clueless,¡± I said as we started towards the door. It was common knowledge that the high rollers worked on the eleventh floor, which is where I¡¯d been housed during my first stint at WeConnect.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fix it. You know I¡¯m the number one now right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah? Good boy.¡±


    ¡°Soaring baby. I¡¯ll talk to Sara, hook us up. Get our own little corner, nobody to bother us and we can just chill, get rich. How does that sound?¡±


    ¡°Like I should suck you off.¡± We watched the elevator tick from floor to floor. I sighed, thought of Nan and the fist-sized pill I would inevitably have to swallow. Benny was a good boy, heart of satin he had. Naturally this was taken advantage of. Especially les femme pinned him as a stooge, milking him for fikas and drinks, wiggling ass just out of reach. People thought he was a toady dufus, which was a reasonable assumption in itself. Incorrect, but reasonable. He talked slow, had the frame of a retired lumberjack on the Spendrups cure, laughed at the dumbest jokes, quick to treat you proper on an outing. A riot. But you don¡¯t make top peddler with a synapse deficiency. Na-ah. So his offer didn¡¯t sound half-bad. Unlike the rest of them, he didn¡¯t actually care about the numbers he pulled in. It¡¯s like he was content just having a place to be.


    When I got on the hotplate, the rest of em¡¯ were already jacked in, hope gleaming in their faces. This would be the one. The session where they broke the factory packaging and charged the world screaming. Fadhi was leaning over one of the newbies, pushing buttons on her computer.


    ¡°Fadhi, I need to listen to some old recordings,¡± I commanded.


    ¡°You nuts? You sold six subs. Stop moping!¡± Fadhi stopped what he was doing and started pacing back and forth across the carpeted floor, looking at their screens, absorbing their voices, accompanied by the never-ending top 100 list blaring out of the speakers.


    ¡°Silver Fadhi. I sold silver fucking TV subscriptions and they¡¯re worth jack shit. Just hook me up to the admin panel! You want more sales? Hook me up n¡¯ I¡¯ll give you more sales.¡± The rhythm wasn¡¯t right in my calls. There was a disharmony with the tone, choice of words, structure. Could be anything. Bad planetary alignment. It didn¡¯t feel magic, wasn¡¯t all lubed up.


    ¡°Day one and you act like a boss,¡± Fadhi smirked. Then he pushed my chair aside, opened the admin panel, logged in. ¡°Knock yourself out! Maybe you¡¯ll save us. Mark and Marcia quit while you were out.¡±


    He peered at the others, as if to make sure nobody was listening, and continued in a whisper. ¡°We got Benny, Moustaffa and Larisa down on the A floor. Rest of em¡¯ don¡¯t sell. It¡¯s bad. Really bad.¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s your first problem right there. You put me up here with the toddlers? For what? Morale? Ten people sold one package in four hours. You slow in the head Fadhi? Put me with the A team. You wouldn¡¯t park a Beamer in the projects just to raise the housing prices now would you? Cus¡¯ it¡¯s fucking dumb.¡±


    ¡°Mon frere, not my decision.¡±


    ¡°Geesh,¡± I said and pttrooed. ¡°Hah! That why you so anxious?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on sleeping pills and antidepressants. My fianc¨¦ wants to get a dog. The CEO got me on speed dial. Do your thing. Ok?¡±


    ¡°Inshallah.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. Maybe we¡¯ll end on plus today.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t as bad as I¡¯d imagined, being back there. Half the workforce had gotten sacked or left during my four month absence. Strictly business in the telecom industry. Quantity rules all. For every hundred youth walking through the doors at WeConnect, soaring with glee having landed their first full time job, there¡¯s one golden boy who erases their deficit in a couple of months. One who makes bank. The rest of em¡¯ get branded TRASH before even making their first call. WeConnect employed managers like Fadhi, who with seer precision sniffed out the weak, bullied them until they quit willingly, nullifying any legal claim to monetary compensation they would have if fired. Shit goes on all over the world. Rinse repeat. Every week there was a new batch looking for glory.


    The work was ruthlessly dull until you got the hang of it, until you learned how to disconnect voice from mind and just blabber on and on and on, zoning out the hatred pouring over you every other call in between voice messages, pranks and people too polite to tell you to fuck off. In this regard, perfunctory manners never carried far. Listening to my old recordings I spotted errors; a keenness shining through when given the tell-tales of interest. Shifts in energy would scare off the prey on the other end like a sheep spotting tufts of wolf sticking out of knickers, but the tone was there most of the time. The monotonous grind. Senselessly boring to listen to, hypnotic. You can sell anything once you find your rhythm. My voice would wander off, speaking at 75 percent speed, following the script I¡¯d written myself, and when I reached the call to action some five or six minutes in ¨C ¡°How about that Bert? You ready to upgrade?¡± ¨C he¡¯d be so fucking numb the choice was practically a coinflip. Once I realized that I was nothing but a technician listening to a machine on the production line, humming the tune of yes mam no sir, everything freeflowed. I sketched. Notebooks upon notebooks, filled to the brim with doodlings, haiku poems, profanity woven into grotesque faces and nightmare fuel, crossed out hate speeches, nudes bending over, chained to poles, decapitated animals, and the occasional Eureka-note where I¡¯d lost a customer due to sheer stupidity.


    I¡¯d already filled three pages and the day wasn¡¯t even close to done. The clock ticked closer to what really mattered. Repentance had to come from my end. I was drawing up a poem that would either place me back in the lapdog seat or burn the brittle floor beneath me. You could never tell. I was on the cusp of something grand that could tip in either direction, taunted by my own inquietude, knowing that the path was there, within the boundaries of my capacity. Blanking out, letting the raspy voice of myself soothe me into a lull, I let the lines splash onto the paper next to the anorectic fella sucking his own cock.

 Chapter 6 – feii

    It burned as Nan trailed her finger along one of the red lines carved on my chest, a squiggly one running the full length from collarbone to navel, likely to be the first one drawn before her mind and hand had steadied. An icy sensation shot through me, not painful per say, more akin to a body stuck in a perpetual gasping for breath. She was mesmerized by her work, cuts of varying length and depth crisscrossing my torso like a spastic attempt at drawing up a chessboard.


    ¡°You said you''d wanted to try it,¡± she purred, affectionately apologetic. Her voice was a soft moan¡ªbody interlocked with mine. ¡°Does it hurt?¡±


    Stopping at one of the wider gashes where the blood hadn''t quite settled and coagulated yet, she forced the skin flaps to part, pushed the tip of her index finger in until it struck bone. My eyes rolled backwards, back arched.


    ¡°Holy hell,¡± I managed to squeeze out, catching a glimpse of the moon looming overhead before the sensation took over. The poem had been a catastrophe on the one end and a self-fulfilling prophecy on the other. I''d sketched it up along the lines of servitude, of worship, of straying from one''s master, of willingness to accept the amplitude of whatever example she wanted to make of me. And it wasn''t smutty or filthy, not outright. Laced with innuendos, sure. Nothing that would stick in court. I¡¯d set her up on the floor, lit candles all around the apartment, and upon reading it out loud to her, ceremoniously, doing my damndest to get back into her favor, I did manage to make a dent in the dam keeping us apart. But the lover''s embrace expected came veiled under layers of fury. It still hadn¡¯t quite settled in, what ensued. Searing pain erased all track of time, and I was struggling to catch up. It was night, a cool and dry night. We were slithered around each other on a mattress pulled out onto the balcony, coming back down from a high I¡¯d never before touched, and probably never wanted to touch ever again. Sporadic engines ripped revving through the night at a distance, seagulls murmuring, colluding and plotting the demise of time itself.


    It was the self-satisfied manner of how I delivered the poem, she said, that alluded to my true feelings for her worth. The words chosen hinted that she could be bought, that my atrocity could be erased from memory by the wigglings of a serpent tongue. My preparations for failure were meager, but I did refrain from mentioning Teddy¡¯s name, as if doing so would summon him into the living room and re-enact the farce anew. Her rage steamed out with increasing intensity, and with my own panic mounting over the grim outlook of successfully reconnecting our wires, I did what any cretin would in the face of terminal danger. On the approach to hug her, to tell her that my heart was bleeding for her, for what I had inflicted when abandoning her in that grand hour marked for us and us alone, she slapped me. Rather hard. The slap itself wasn¡¯t a novelty¡ªa bedside manner found early in our escapades¡ªbut she¡¯d never hit me outside of naked context. It caught me off guard, sobered me up instantly. When she launched the second swing, fist closed, I stopped her midair, pulled her close and spun her around. And like that, we were kino. All the pent up energy found its outlet, and in my mind and body we were riding a powerful wave of reconciliation, that is until she drew a knife from the bedside cupboard. Mid-ride, she put one hand on my throat, pressed down, fondled around in the drawer with the other. I didn¡¯t realize what was going on before feeling the sharp edge replacing the chokehold, scraping at the skin, threatening to cut my head clean off and end me. She laughed demonically, intensified her girations. Fear coursed through me; raw, primordial fear, but backing out was not an option so I pushed harder, played along. Then there was the slashing. A jolting, slow zigzag, deep enough for blood to seep out instant. I was disassociating, unable to grasp if it was real or not, and the pain felt numbing, dragging me farther away from any capability to make it stop. Out of all the strokes that followed, one woke me up, made me regain my senses. The gorge where her finger currently resided, the deepest cut. In pure animal survival instinct I wrestled the knife from her and almost punched her, but the end-goal was near. This was exactly what the poem had foretold. With blood dripping down on her chest, we finished in a burning, sensational orgasm. It¡¯s a slippery slope, introducing violence in sex. One has a climax, and the other does not. For the first time in our relationship, I felt very small.


    ¡±Don''t ever leave me Maki,¡± she said as the finger shlopped out of me, her multicolored face barely visible in the looming dawn. Deer-eyes, tear-eyes held me in place as I slipped back down from the orgasmic pain-trip. ¡±It''s the worst thing I can imagine.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    If there were words to express what her shifted image awoke in me, I would''ve told her. The madness in bed, the crossing over into a place that had felt dark and terrible, dissipated at once, melted away like a phantasmal glacier that had never been. She was being fully honest, lips parting, trembling slightly. The toll of passage had been paid, gates opened.


    ¡±I don''t want to feel like that ever again,¡± she continued. ¡°You set me aside, even though I know he¡¯s your friend and all. But you did. You put me second. And you¡¯ve never put me second. And that scares me, that you¡¯re gonna start moving away from me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a weird creature,¡± I whispered before trying to kiss her. She parried, nestled her nose into my armpit.


    ¡°I know you,¡± she said, muffled from the depths of my pit. ¡°I¡¯m worried that Teddy will devour you. You¡¯ll make him your project and forget all about me until he¡¯s fixed because you don¡¯t know how to stop once you lock on. You always burn the candle full fire. But what if he can¡¯t be fixed? What if he¡¯s already broken beyond fixing?¡±


    She spoke slowly, ponderously, adlibbing on raw emotion, letting the voice within guide her. I stroked her soft hair. She rubbed her face on my shoulder, sniffled, went back into hiding.


    ¡°By that logic you should be reassured? No? I don¡¯t stop. I never stop when the gain is maximized, when the peaks are high. And you, you¡¯re the main surge hooked straight into my heart. How could I ever drift away from you? It¡¯s effectively sucicide. Throwing everything down the well. Life without you would be colorless, it¡¯s so horrible I can¡¯t even approach it in thought.¡±


    From the crest of a pec, her damp eye rose, sneakily peaking up at me smiling back. I continued firing.


    ¡°Nan, I get that you''re hurting. Honestly, I do. But he''s like the only person beside you that I''ve ever had the full connect with. You got Melvin, and before that you had Alessandro and Melissa and Kolvin, and you''ve got people. People that treat you right, that admire you and genuinely want to be with you. And above all, you have in me the insurmountable devotion of a blind pleb worshiping your every wink and twist.¡±


    She giggled, still hiding, and a winged guardian gawked in response somewhere beyond the rooftops.


    ¡°And I have you like I''ve never had anybody, like I''ll never have any creature living or imaginary. You''re so nestled in that it hurts when I''m away from you, like being with you is realtime and the rest is on idle. I want to give you everything, I want to take from you everything that you''ll offer up. Gobble it down, sharp end and all. I wanna grow inside your soul, mend and roll through eternity. When I''m with you I feel immortal. Untouchable. I wanna have your babies Nan. And nothing can touch that.¡±


    Her body tensed, shivers of tram or plain cold I couldn''t say. Rising on her elbows with an indecipherable look, she climbed on top of me, sat upright, crimson breasts bathing in the grainy moonlight.


    ¡°But Teddy, he''s got none of it. Not a sliver of warmth crawling his way. And that¡¯s like the whole point. Teddy is lost. He¡¯s not some monster. But everyone looks at him like he is, and he¡¯s been shunned his whole life and now he¡¯s all stranded with no skills to pick himself up; no friends, no nothing. When I see him it¡¯s like I can feel his lifeforce resting in my hands and if I turn my back on him, what cunt am I? Am I that cunt?¡±


    I looked at my hands as if I would actually see the hypothetical cunt materialize in purplish goo.


    ¡°Keep talking,¡± she said feverishly, placed my hands on her hips, resting her own on my chest with its blood-caked chessboard, trickles of red oozing out of the cracks.


    ¡°Imagine never having this. I mean not even a frame of reference. Imagine never having felt the love I feel, never even seen its shadow slip you by.¡±


    "You want to have my babies?" she smiled. Her eyes were all doped up, like a predator toying.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I replied. ¡°I love you Nan. And I will always love you. But I need to save him.¡±


    She put her hand over my mouth.


    ¡°We''re done talking,¡± she moaned.


    A seagull cackled from the roof, greeting the summer in its own demonic way, chanting for the lord of darkness to return from his exile as we embarked upon our river of red ruin.

 Chapter 7 – japs

    I''d just read the peasant tide burn down Mikhail Antonovich¡¯s house, closing My Universities, when Teddy wrote where u at mefegguh, signaling he¡¯d entered the park. I replied with location, rolled over on my back and squinted at the crisp sky, framed to the left and right by a canopy of pines six stories tall. Like a ginger cunt proper I¡¯d surveyed a spot that would be shaded over the power hours of my visit, watchful of the sun sending its spies and infiltrators on charring missions through the leafwork of Ardham Park. As far as parks go, it¡¯s a work of majesty. Plenty are the nightly excursions here taken by Nan and I, exploring its heightened wonders under the influence of mushrooms or MDMA, tumbling and sneaking through its mazes, meandering between hidden passages onto the amphitheaters, copes, trailing luscious ponds and gazebos, having sex wherever the need arise. It was constructed a hundred years ago as a world exhibit, built like an abominable rape-child of rococo and Roman estetics. Where once there had been unkempt shrubbery and bare soil they imagined a miniature paradise and got to work, laid out brick roads, moved thousands of trees lining them up in mindbending geometrical shapes at a grand scale, constructed ponds, built a water reservoir thirty meters tall in the style of a Moomin house, artificially created an island in the middle of the largest pond where they modeled an actual castle and installed a posh restaurant for les creme des temps. They even kidnapped two thousand Canadian geese and swans to populate the waterways, minting the nickname Goospla Park a hundred years later on account of all the goose shit. Laid down two tramlines crossing through the park. When the show was over, the municipality just left it as is for geriatrics to marvel at, exhibitionists to stress test limits. I love this park, and naturally a day in my lonesome is best spent here.


    Fridays were the perks of working the Todo gig as sentiments for buying shit over the phone are statistically lower on Fridays. The data crunchers of BackOffice had at some point decreed that it was a waste of money all together, having us come in on Fridays, so instead they had us come in on Sundays to compensate for the societal deficit. The effect of this was a win-win: a day where everything happens traded for a day full of nothing. It wasn¡¯t like people shifted their week around, lived by the new status quo. We went all in on Saturday, hoping to pull off a miracle recovery come Sunday or simply not care at all, coming straight from the rave still gnawing lips off on speed. The office would reek of peppermints and sweat, toxins hanging in the air, their owners hidden behind shades and hoodies. It was prepping up to be my reality real soon, but none of it could touch me on the Friday high. This one in particular, the first since I got back on the payroll, would be something else. We¡¯d talked about him, Teddy, and the fact that he was my only friend and that our life orbited around Nan¡¯s circles, Nan¡¯s family, Nan¡¯s colleagues. It felt important, to have something that was mine, and her taking part in my revelries in that something was naturally a necessity. Teddy was my only friend. I had acquaintances, sure. But no inner circle. It sort of naturally landed that way in youth as one girlfriend was swapped for another in a natural ebb and flow ever since I lost my virginity at 16 in a bush at a festival smelling faintly of piss. Come to think of it, the entry of Jane, the cherrypicker, led to me and Teddy seeing less and less of each other. We¡¯d still chat, meet up whenever Jane was busy elsewhere. And then there was Emilia, followed by Nathalia, on to Jessy, Teddy¡¯s older sister. And after that came Ellen, Daniella. The general perception is probably that I would desperately grab the first girl I could find as soon as I became single again, but it was nothing like that. One day they were just there, in front of me, radiating with energy. I cherished each profoundly, barred Jessy, loved them deeply. So much in fact, that I¡¯d found little interest in the world outside the world of two.


    The phone buzzed again, flashing Nanski in capital letters.


    ¡°Helllooo,¡± I mooed.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Hi.¡±


    ¡°Hey there.¡±


    ¡°Mhm. What¡¯s up?¡± I heard laughter on the other end, not belonging to Nan. ¡°What¡¯re you up to fellah?¡±


    ¡°Getting off work in a bit. We good on cash?¡±


    ¡°Sure is. Got my provisions today and it¡¯s looking purdy fine I say...¡±


    ¡°Goody. You still in the park?¡±


    ¡°...Got enough fuel to last us through the weekend at quantum velocity. Spacious cabins to your left, beverages to your right, and if you wanna get real fucking fancy we can burn out at dawn leaving a chemtrail proper from T1 to Jupiter. These things can¡¯t be helped, science be damned.¡±


    ¡°Naaw,¡± she cooed. ¡°You¡¯ve been alone all day haven¡¯t you? We¡¯ll be over in an hour. Love ya!¡±


    ¡°Wait! Who we?¡± Click.


    First there was the commotion¡ªat a distance bushes being jostled, roused by a tall figure instinctively belonging to Teddy. Arms flailing, he burst through the obstacle like a drunkard, disturbing the peace for more than one couple of fair-skinned sunbathers, like it was his intention all along. I oi¡¯ed real loud and watched as he craned his neck, my reptilian brother, attempting to find me. When that didn¡¯t work I waved him in.


    Teddy walked like a ghoul. Nobody walked like Teddy. He was patented that way. As he got closer, agitation lit up in bold around his features.


    ¡°Hi there sir, did the bookies treat you poorly again?¡± I asked with a grin.


    ¡°What the fuck are you on about?¡± he said, looking around himself. ¡°Can anyone tell me what in the fucking piss this tool is talking about?¡±


    I smiled at him in anticipation, like a smile from deep within. Like he¡¯d set off a chain of vibrations, preparing the entire apparatus for some godlike intrusion. Teddy on fire. This was the best Teddy.


    ¡°Well then,¡± I continued, rubbing my hands together. ¡°If you¡¯ll be so kind and reach into the satchel¡ªa gift. And then I want you to proceed by sharing the contents of your toils.¡±


    ¡°Cut it,¡± he snapped, clawing a can from the first six pack. ¡°What the hell is wrong with normalspeak? It¡¯s shit! All of it¡ªshit! I want to breathe polonium on every meager little fuck claims in his head he on top of anything. My eyes turn people to ash. This fucking shit man.¡±


    He cracked the can, an anonymous non-Albanic eagle, and drank the whole thing in one swoop. I beheld the spectacle, unable to stop grinning.


    ¡°I¡¯m gonna risk our relations, and suggest that you¡¯re upset.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll hang the bastard with his own fucking intestines that vulture. Scavengers! All of em¡¯! We¡¯re infested! Surrounded by roaches! Blah!¡±


    He cracked another, stopped mid-way with beer dripping from his chin, panting, gasping for air.


    ¡°I¡¯d offer you comfort Theodore dear, but first I need to debrief you. Who is he?¡±


    ¡°Who do you think? I got fired! Can you believe that? I got fired from working the harbor. And that¡¯s not even the worst part.¡±


    ¡°Well now I know you¡¯re teasing. Come on,¡± I said and did a rolling motion with my hand. ¡°Pour it on.¡±


    ¡°He fired me on false pretenses! I was set up.¡±


    ¡°How so? Is this true?¡±


    ¡°Could be¡­¡± He glanced at me mid-swig and hands down, I couldn¡¯t tell if he was toying and all of this was just a big ruse to get lively.


    ¡°To hell with it then. It just so happens to be that a certain Benny, you remember Benny right?¡± He nodded. ¡°You see me and Benny-boi got the prelude to a little empire going on. Set up in our own little corner of the officeverse, come as we please, leave when we hit quota and get paid for the full day. The absolute cream of the office, and for a mere shilling of gratitude I¡¯ll sort you out.¡±


    I held my hand out for him to kiss, eyes fluttering, awaiting the pledge.


    ¡°Phone-hogging, pfft. Where¡¯s the honesty? I''ll just sell whatever decency I have left for fah fiddy an hour.¡±


    ¡°Eleven fiddy,¡± I replied, retracting my hand.


    ¡°Well I didn¡¯t get kicked off all pleb-like. Made a proper ruckus on the way out.¡±


    ¡°Geesh Teddy, for an apolitical fella you sure starting to sound red. You in a union?¡±


    ¡°Plotting to overthrow big man Boris.¡±


    ¡°Like a true son of the proletariat. I¡¯m serious though, don¡¯t worry about it. They¡¯ll get theirs in the afterlife.¡±


    He groaned, covering his face with hands.


    ¡°Give a man a job and he¡¯ll labor for his kopek. Give a man duties and you have yourself a monster. I didn¡¯t even steal nothing. Everyone on the floor knows that Abec janks iPhones off the lorries, and still I get the boot. They¡¯ve been trying to get rid of him for months but nothing happens cus¡¯ his dad is a lawyer and they got no proof. Put up a fucking camera! Put ¨C up ¨C a ¨C camera you literal cumstain. Oh no, let¡¯s grab the first off-brand cuck available and toss his ass out just cus¡¯ he on probation. Please the board! Pheasants! I¡¯m surrounded by bleeding fowl.¡±


    ¡°Amen. Did you bring the bottle?¡±


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°Always like this! It¡¯s rigged. All of it. I¡¯m not meant to get an inch without losing three. Fucking Christ. Fucking all of it. You see these boxes Theodore. They are our lifeblood, my duty. What separates us from the savages, should we let them lead astray? MMMMMH?¡±


    Declaiming hard, gesturing like a dandy. From afar crowds were watching, waiting. The show was about to enter its second act, and they knew it.


    ¡°Mi-lord, would yee be so kind as to inform me on the state of one bottle,¡± I asked, feeling an itch rising, nudging my patience.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Bottle, si?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Bloody yes.¡±


    ¡°Splendid. And is she liquidated?¡±


    ¡°Is she liquid...¡± he mimicked, pulling the plastic half-liter out of his belly pouch. ¡°Inspect!¡± He lunged it full force right at my head. I was able to block with an unusually vigilant foot.


    ¡°An upstanding citizen in all regards you are Teddy. Let¡¯s give the pheasants a thrashing proper, for I¡¯ve taken it upon myself to watch over this man¡¯s sanity.¡± I stood up and faced everybody. ¡°May the bowels of hell open its maws and swallow me entire should I deviate the path.¡±


    Grabbing the bottle ¨C a seductive looking Fanta bottle with imprinted bubbles and a real skinny waist ¨C I did a backward roll into a handstand, landing somewhat majestically on feet again, snaked in reverse, fingers snapping, like a West Side Story hoodlum gearing up for ranged combat. Teddy turned his back to me, paced steps like he was his own secondant.


    ¡°Six¡­ Eight¡­ Salope¡­ We need a word!¡± he shouted across the thirty odd yards we¡¯d put between us as he spun around.


    ¡°I think tradition holds that the bringer o¡¯ bottles is also the baptizer. Like the boatbuilder christens the vessel before her virgin sailage ya know.¡±


    ¡°Are you dumb? The bottle was a gift, and the giftee should be the one to name it. How the fuck would that look, if I gave you a boat, ¡®but ye haf to call er¡¯ Mary¡¯s Virgin Twat cus¡¯ I wills it¡¯. No no no no no. Give us a short one.¡±


    ¡°Short one ei,¡± I replied ponderously. Picking a short word meant that he wanted destruction on high volume ¨C a sacrificial gift to chaos or some other malevolent bastard. Throwing the bottle up and down like a one-ball juggler, I looked far and beyond for a word to please the boy proper. ¡°Gregor. That¡¯s the word.¡±


    ¡°Too long.¡±


    ¡°Well ok mister. Gerger. G-R-G-R. Batter up!¡± I pulled my arm back, feeling a jolt as water crashed into the bottlefloor, and pendulumed an underarm throw. It soared through the air straight like an arrow, a miniature SCUD aimed at Teddy¡¯s face. It looked like I¡¯d caught him off guard, like we¡¯d have a smashing start¡ªblack eye, teeth knocked out or a cracked lip¡ªbut it was all charade. He snapped at it one-handed like a cobra, right before impact. Didn¡¯t even flinch.


    ¡°Oh ho ho! This boy on some kinda dope. Cumattus lassie!¡±


    I postured myself like a Borg or Federer, swaying side to side. Without replying he sent it, an over-the-shoulder throw with force and I knew it was gonna be tricky. Watching it complete its perfect trajectory, rotating evenly until the cap was facing the lush green grass below, I braced for impact. As soon as it tipped over its axis it catapulted forward even faster, cranking slightly to the left. It was within micrometers, my adjustment, partially absorbing the blow with my chest, forcing a gasp like the pitch of a misfiring engine. He was real pleased with that one.


    Most of the slackers and idlers were now invested in the scene. Teddy knew and I knew and we all knew, even the seagulls lurking at a distance praying for blood and flesh, that the show was on. Leaning on elbows, rolling over on sides, inconspicuously glaring askance for a glance of the historical bloodletting. Driven by the hush-hush urges of pre-history hooman to watch neighbors unnamed be decimated, or at a minimum rendered crippled in some non-vital function. You can''t look away from the horror. You can''t miss a beat of the maiming and slaughter. It is ingrained in our fabric, can''t look away, can''t silence the bloodlust.


    ¡°Get on wit¡¯ it ye half-wit pale fucker! Stop yer flexin¡¯ n¡¯ get to tossin,¡± Teddy growled, and then he up¡¯ed the ante in a frothing fit by pulling the big black sack of cloth over his head, blinding the onlookers with a hue of white best described as radioactive. I loved it. Every second of it.


    ¡°Big talk from the chap-LIN,¡± I snarled in an attempt to outwit, casting an identical throw, though this time I aimed at his lower left. Every time we played bottle, this was my plan. Systematically test his defenses until a weakness reveals itself, a particular type of throw or metrical catch-box. It¡¯s always there. No boy be safe from flaw. This wasn¡¯t it though. He caught it gracefully, like he¡¯d been bred for that one catch. Without delay he launched it back at me, a real trick Hail Mary shot. Backhanded frontside spin with just enough speed to reach its target, a perfect fucker rising on wings divine, spinning like a spacecraft struck out of orbit, ceaselessly turning into the infinite sea of black space, so fast you¡¯d need a team of mathematicians working triple shifts for weeks to concoct a responding position of hand. It declined. I stepped sideways to alleviate a potential bounce with my belly, cupped hands, readying them for the squeeze and bam. Caught it. Contact. Then no contact. It bounced, grazed my shoulder. Lightning quick I did a half-circle, kicked from underneath where I thought it would land, felt my shin shatter on the cap but a hit it was, sending it flying off into the bushes.


    ¡°You¡¯re not a big fella are ye! You¡¯re a weee man! You¡¯re just a wee boy!¡± he celebrated and wooed, drew a couple of claps from the crowd grown larger when he started flexing the goods of his anorectic temple. ¡°That¡¯s a G for you. If you wasn¡¯t such an arse I¡¯d shave off the end-bend and give you a C for effort.¡±


    Mind you we were shouting all this. I could already feel a bruise coming on, but there were no two ways about it. Adrenaline quickly flushed out the pain. First blood Teddy, well deserved. As we sank deeper into the trenches the throws became harder. Accuracy calibrated. Publicum emotionally hypnotized, picking sides, cheering loud. A group of older fellas knelt in prayer each time Teddy scored or outperformed expectations. GRGR ended in a win for him when he caught slipstream with an underarm toss, jamming my speedometer causing grave miscalculation, taking the wind out of me with a direct solar plexus hit. I''d expected some sort of humiliating display from his end but it never came. He looked stoic, resolute.


    ¡°Fecal is the next word,¡± he said. ¡°And you''re bleeding.¡±


    I looked down at my white shirt, met a thin red line like a fine brushstroke around the point of impact. Laughing all bezoomny I lifted it up, ripping it like a bandaid where it had stuck to my chest, revealing the chessboard with its freshly picked scabs, like a soldier flaunting medals and insignias. I felt massive, a general on the frontlines.


    ¡°Sure Teddy-boyo. Let''s breed.¡±


    The second bout started off in my favor. I''d discovered a chink in his matrix to the top right. His upper left-hand game was terrible. Eighty percent hit rate on single hand catches, ninety on doublehanded if he went airborne in time. Outlast nine out of ten and I was golden. The sun had progressed on its cartwheel motion over the sky, shining down on us, searing at an acceptable afternoon level within my range of tolerance. I was on fire, having caught a low blow by kicking the bottle with the outside of my foot right into my hand, summoning silent awe, one solitary oooooh. The crowd had trailed off into their own personal demise, with the exception of an old hag suspectedly looking at our bodies and not the bottle. After my immortal catch I''d broken through, putting him one letter from loss.


    ¡°This is where you fall Teddy-boyo. Brave son of Judas. I''ll raise a monument to your failures.¡±


    He loaded the cannon, swung hard and I could see right away that it spelled victory. The bottle crashed through the sound barrier, reaching deadly speed, wooshing past my head but two meters above it. He instantly knew, falling to the ground. A bad throw punishes the tosser, and you know when you done fucked up. There was a loud shriek behind me. Turning around, I saw Nan and another, saved by God''s grace from the nuclear warhead. I¡¯d gotten so caught up that I''d completely forgotten she was coming, and I realized I hadn''t told either of them about the other.


    ¡°We''re ok!¡± she giggled. ¡°Didn¡¯t see you were playing.¡±


    The other one looked mortified like she¡¯d stepped into a room best left locked when she looked at my bloodied chest, then cracked up from nowhere, laughing with a backhand-covered mouth.


    ¡°Is this him?¡± she said without breaking eye-contact. ¡°Or is it that one?¡±


    ¡°This one¡¯s mine. Put a shirt on Max. You¡¯re scaring the children.¡± Nan strutted over, grabbed my neck and kissed a hard salute, painting her finger red on my chest before sticking it between her lips, cleaning it with a plopp. ¡°Mmh. Still mine.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dare otherwise. He lost,¡± I said to the newcomer. ¡°Praying for some pagan to strike me down.¡±


    ¡°This is Eve. Eve, Max. And the one with his face in the grass is Teddy, I assume?¡± She gave me a look. Subtle, but definitely a look.


    ¡°Theodori! Shiva sees you! He sees your soul. Embrace defeat, chosen champion!¡± Eve breezed past me, soaring like a woodland spirit, blonde dreads and curls reaching way below her shoulders.


    ¡°I think I like her,¡± I told Nan who looked as confused as I did. "Where did you find this lovely specimen?"


    "Work," she replied. We were both just standing there, innocent bystanders to whatever might pop off, coming to terms with the possibilities and pitfalls of the moment in quietude. Eve skipped over on light feet, kneeled next to Teddy, resting her body on top of his nude back with its vertebrates poking up like jagged rock formations. The universe fell silent. Falling into its groove, I grabbed Nanski¡¯s hand.


    "Be nice to him."


    "I''m always nice."


    "Nicer. For me. I''ll do anything you ask of me tonight if you treat him as equal."


    "I''ll hold you to that," she said all mischief, letting go and walking over to my blanket, joining Gorky and the cans. Breaking their silent cosmos, Eve began swaying from side to side, humming some heathen guttural mantra. Stunned and flabbergasted I took my beer, finished it and tippy-toed over to the Ruski, tackled Nan commencing a tickling assault. At a distance Teddy tuned in, morphing the solo into a duette. Nan played along with my games. Officially, she hated being tickled. But it was all an act. I knew she loved it, loved the horror of control lost. Genuine warmth emanated from her, laying there all pretzel''d. She whispered i l???v you. I squeezed her thigh in response, kissed her forehead and drew closer. We tranced out.


    ¡°You''re in cahoots with the devil,¡± Teddy said as he came closer after an infinity or minute, Eve in tow. ¡°You and every other ginger bastard.¡±


    ¡°So you confirm it?¡± Nan asked Teddy, poking a finger between my ribs. ¡°I knew he wasn¡¯t human.¡±


    ¡°If there ever was a morphling among men it¡¯s him,¡± he said, pointing. ¡°Things I¡¯ve seen, lawd have mercy on us all.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the pay? That big ol¡¯ cock of yours? Cus¡¯ you don¡¯t have much else going for you,¡± Nan toyed and Eve laughed chockingly intense. Teddy didn¡¯t, blushed pretending not to.


    ¡°You two look so happy together.¡± Eve sat down next to Teddy on the blanket as I unsnaked myself from Nan, passing beers and smokes and so it was.


    The trees were lit a burning orange and the atmosphere kicked up a notch park-wide. Gatherings gathered, poppers popped, seagulls fraternized, creatures of the night crawling out of their nests, Electro untz-untz-untz¡¯d out of a speaker somewhere and l¡¯aire de vie felt like floating on vapors. Nan had whipped out a bag of speed like a magic rabbit out of her knickers, tapping lines on a phone case. Teddy sported a face of worry, directed right at me, which I soothed with a nod and an upward sweeping hand-motion. We each took turns dipping our heads down the middle of the circle, squiggly lines disappearing, counting down to the last batter up the field.


    ¡°See you on the other side, fren,¡± I said and dove down through the grass and into the upside-down. A miniature explosion went off inside, a proper spring-cleaning sending all the dustmites and brain-fog out the earholes and it was clear. Everything was clear. Rubbing my nose I oowiiied. My consciousness split into separate tracks, each running its own train of thought. I sidelooked at Nan, and she confirmed my suspicions that we weren¡¯t dealing with no ordinary schpetty. But there¡¯s no need to ruin the surprise for the others, I thought. Let them meth with confidence. ¡°Nan m-m-muh lovliest of lovlies, finer seen naught in all the realms. A melody if you will, from that tin-man just served us the dust. Music! Alas.¡±


    ¡°Ooh it¡¯s one of those, the night. Planets are aligning,¡± Eve said as she grabbed a zoned out Teddy and kissed him wet on the cheek. Containing myself I rose, wobbling a couple of steps before assuming position.


    ¡°I can¡¯t live on a 1-1 scoreline Teddy boy-o. Please my nerves!¡±


    ¡°Shiva bless this boy!¡±


    Teddy got up, looked around himself like he was dreaming, zoned out on Eve and just scoffed.


    ¡°Max. You¡¯re a moron,¡± he said, and as he did Nanna¡¯s fiddlings came to an end, sparking the intro of some nameless untza-untza.


    ¡°Set yerself up,¡± I replied, cartwheeling away. ¡°The next word is DOOM.¡±

 Chapter 8 – mjau

    ¡°Never again,¡± I blurted out as the door slammed shut behind us. ¡°I don¡¯t care what voodoo you rep, never again I¡¯ll go that far off grid to rave.¡±


    Kicking my shoes off on a bounce through the hallway, I fell to the floor and stretched out on the cool marble tiles of our new abode. Every grain of debris and sand registered on the bare skin, razors cutting straight through the hyper-sensitive. Mind raced past a thousand images, conversations played in reverse. Thought-trains ran on circular tracks passing every station with a semblance of conclusion at manic speed with no intention of stopping.


    ¡°Crybaby,¡± Nan sighed as she stepped over me, heading for the kitchen.


    ¡°Help the baby. The baby is dying!¡± I rose to my knees, clambering after her to drown with waterfalls the dehydrated ghost of a bassline hammering away at the inside of my skull. ¡°For the love of a name make it stop. Oi vey. Nanna! Hey, tell us a story.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she replied, zooming back and by me into the bathroom wearing nothing, and I could''ve sworn that such was not the case two seconds prior.


    ¡°All uphill from here.¡± Leaning against the wall, I slowly rose to my feet under the screams of muscles I didn¡¯t know I had. My legs were bruised up real bad, lips like sandpaper. I dove under the faucet, let it pour freely over face and mouth, into me, filling up like a balloon. The headache took a few steps back and I could grab onto a thought for more than a fleeting moment. Fumbling for the phone, I dialed Teddy and put it on speaker. A showerhead blasted in the background, behind a door I didn¡¯t remember closing. No escape from it. No way to go but down. The beeps of a dialer echoed between kitchen tiles, enhanced by an imperious sun peeping its nasty eyes through the open window. I limped over, pulled the blinds down, closed what Nan had opened.


    ¡°Hello! Bye!¡± Teddy¡¯s voice mail. I hadn¡¯t seen him for hours when we left, which didn¡¯t worry me at first. These things happen. Each to its own when the bass done blown. He¡¯d bloomed up, danced his little chicken legs away, barefooted on pinecones and moss, far away from civilization and smack dead in the center at the same time. Until suddenly he wasn¡¯t. Gone. With a head full of meth, ecstasy and Lord knows. Eve¡¯s friends had picked us up some time after dark when spirits were wild, love and laughter flowing abundant. They rolled in a modded camper van turned party on wheels, filled to the brim with hippies and punkheads. Not the usual MCity rave scene suspects. Once the mood had elevated and the lights of the city were but a distant flicker, we¡¯d snorted lines left and right, everyone racing to get rid of their stash, tin box steering off the main road onto trails meandering through mid-Scanian woods. The rave was a forest stomp, like night and day compared to its urban equivalents, this particular delivering on all the qualities you¡¯d expect from an event of its sort. The most blatant difference between rural and urban stompers is the unapologetic hedonism. Rurals don¡¯t give two shits about appearances and popularity politics. It¡¯s not about showing up, or whom you graze on the dancefloor. Theirs is an introspective journey, a trip indulged to maximize efficiency, undertaken to reach a peak higher than all previously surpassed. Naturally, the dope circulating is calibrated to the quest. Heavy on the acid, research chemicals, mushrooms for the purists, DMT, ketamine. But you¡¯ll find just about anyone on anything. Old veterans, shirtless and blabbering mad looking like they haven¡¯t had a meal since the eighties, nervous city folk stumbled out by chance, ordinary bumpkins dripping acid like it¡¯s beer. Not for the weak of mind and heart. Ten minutes in power hour is enough to send a perfectly sane specimen into a spiral, never to be seen again. Many such cases, people stumbling into a psychosis when M?rta flashes her cunt just as the acid is about to take hold and your bearings haven¡¯t quite settled in.


    We¡¯d left around noon, me and Nan, under circumstances that I sensed she wasn¡¯t too happy about. The fiesta was a two-night affaire, going strong despite having left the darkness long behind, when a police van rolled into the periphery. I was well aware of the state of myself and that of my neighbors, adding two and two, calculus crunching out five. Grabbing Nan, I convinced her that we needed to scram, that bad news was looming. So we did, no questions asked. Casually strolled into the forest, picking up the pace as the music died and the birds started chirping again. It took us an hour to reach a road, a waterless hour in exhausted bodies, exchanging the bare minimum of looks and words, and another thirty minutes to find a bus station. An hour waiting for the bus, two layovers to get back to MCity. All in all, we¡¯d spent six hours getting back, no provisions, all the while coming down hard on just about everything in the chemist¡¯s lockbox. And when Eve finally responded to Nanna¡¯s missed calls, she kindly informed us that the cops were familiar faces, looking for psychotics and people on bad trips. Real humanitarians.


    Trying to drop the charades, facing the agony, I stripped, walked into the bedroom, darkened it up. Then the living room, hiding in darkness the hideous art nouveau decorating the walls and knick-knacks Nan had placed at random locations to ¡®home¡¯ the place up. With them out of sight, shrouded in shadows, we could be anywhere. Hotel room in Tangiers, train coup¨¦ on our way to Amsterdam. Dark. Lost to time and space.


    Twelve hours minimum. Real time. Bunker down, ride the wave. With a bit of luck and grit I would eat again, some day¡­ some day. The starvation cure was doing wonders for my physique. I¡¯d shaved off every single grain of fat. Muscles outlined. Nighttime images like fluttering moths in passing, of hands touching my abs, nails tearing across my back while the speaker stack sang its horrory psy-trance to squirrels and worms, breathing fear into the deaf. I knew that I had to eat something, that I couldn¡¯t hide from my body in revolt for much longer. Hands were already shaking, arms struggling to lift and get to work prepping for the come-down proper. Alone with a racing mind, jabbering ad infinitum when all you crave is quiet. For that there is no shortcut. The bullet that must be bitten. Sex is the only potion able to numb the voices, offer release to tensed up muscles, disolve the anxiety. But at this rate it¡¯s not a certainty, and I was beginning to fear that this particular sixteen hour stint until I was supposed to show up at Todo, ready to start blabbering, I¡¯d have to make due without the sexual cure. The thought of food made me wanna puke. Water was challenging enough.


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯d zoned out on the couch in the dim darkness. The water was still running in the kitchen. Heeding its call I could hear something. An irregularity, masked by the showerhead. A heavy breath, moaning or whimper. I wobbled inside through a curtain of steam. Hurled up like a ball, face covered by hands, there she was.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on here? Loveliest of lovely, what¡¯s the dip about?¡± I tried to climb into the tub with her. ¡°Holy fuck! You¡¯ll smelt your skin off.¡± Turning the knob, I waited a bit, then crouched beside her, trying to navigate the complete system shock that had scorched her body red. After some resistance, she gave way.


    ¡°I¡¯m so embarrassed¡­ People think I¡¯m an idiot,¡± she sobbed, clinging to my arms. ¡°I don¡¯t even remember. So fucking awkward. Always talking about myself. Me me me! Look at me!¡±


    ¡°No it¡¯s nothing like that. Fuck me, I don¡¯t know. Were you?¡±


    ¡°I preached¡­ my fifth grade English teacher. Told em¡¯ all how much she meant to me, that she¡¯s the biggest influence in my life. And they tried to get a word in but I just ran em¡¯ over.¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not fucking funny!¡±


    ¡°Alright. Sure. Nan. We good now. Everyone¡¯s like that on powder.¡±


    ¡°No they¡¯re not. People can handle it and then there¡¯s you and me. And Teddy for fuck sakes. We¡¯re junkies Max! Like you going off in the woods, what the fuck? Nobody else does this shit! Other people are normal!¡±


    She started thrashing around her, banging her head against the enameled metal, growling and hissing. I tried to grab a hold of her like a wrestler from behind, jumped in, slipped, pulled her head to my chest as we tumbled and sloped around the bathtub.


    ¡°Shhhhh! Someone¡¯ll call the loonies and get us pinched. Calmez-vous. We¡¯re insane. Off the hinges fucking bonkers. Til¡¯ the sun is black and the last of us dead. You haven¡¯t seen half of it! I told this hippie fellah that the Eric Andre Show was the equivalent of Ulysses for television for Christ sakes. What the fuck does that even mean?¡±


    Letting my hands run rampant over her glossy wet skin, I sucked out the evil, bit by bit as the water tapped its nuisance. For a moment I knew exactly what it meant, and I was about to tell her when she spun around, placed her hands on my ass, dug her claws into it, licking my open wounds, completely transformed.


    ¡°This is the best part of it all,¡± I continued. ¡°The real show. Jokes and charades for those twats, fuck the lot of them. Royalties gracing the commoners we are, and they look at us in awe I tell you. In true awe. They¡¯ve never seen anything like it. Compressed love of the universe in two specters so beautiful. Their time is over. It never even begun. Nobody will remember¡¯em. You¡¯re here. Naked as the day you entered this world. With me. This was the destination all along. And we had to fight and toil across that God awful forest. But we¡¯d never stop. No sah. We don¡¯t know how to stop.¡±


    ¡°You always know how to fix me,¡± she moaned, giggled and sniveled. ¡°I saved some for us.¡±


    ¡°You and I, a bed, no itinerary. When did we need more?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll chop some up,¡± she whispered as she started rubbing her crotch against mine. A twitch ripped through me when I understood what she was talking about.


    ¡°You know that ain¡¯t speed, right? C¡¯mon babe. I¡¯ll set us up proper. Light candles, darken the place up. Music and a shit movie. You go across that line we won¡¯t find respite for another twenty four hours. We need sleep. I gotta be at work tomorrow, remember?¡±


    ¡°You said you¡¯d do anything for me if I was nice. Weren''t I super super nice?¡±


    Looking up into the ceiling, I started slipping into desperation.


    ¡°You said you wanted my babies,¡± she whispered in the rain as she took a firm grip around my cock. ¡°I can¡¯t come down before you give them to me.¡±


    ¡°Ah for fuck¡­ If we¡¯re going down that road I¡¯ll need some downers to level me out man. I¡¯ll be wrecked for a week without them.¡±


    ¡°You know I take care of you¡­¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s like... ¡°


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nevermind.¡±


    ¡°Say it! You think I¡¯m a fucking junkie!¡±


    She stormed up and out, leaving me shattered with a throbbing hardon in the middle of a monsoon. Outside, cupboards slamming, feet pounding around as if trying to break the floor or bones within them. I knew I¡¯d fucked up. Knew exactly what had wandered through my mind. Then came the tapping. The unmistakable tapping of plastic on glass. I jumped up, threw a towel over my shoulder, walked out and found her as expected. On the couch. Soaking wet, teeth grinding.


    ¡°I¡¯m just tired love,¡± I pleaded. ¡°I¡¯m really fucking tired. I don¡¯t think you¡¯re a junkie. You want to keep going, I want to start this God forsaken marathon to normality and another line sets us tumbling right back to the starting grid. Sometimes you just gotta chill man.¡±


    ¡°Snake. You¡¯re a fucking snake,¡± she said with a rapid razor-stare thrown like a shuriken.


    If there was one thing that I could think of that would be worse than going into work feeling like a spit-shined version of my current wreckage, it was this. Turning into that polished turd cut off from all life support. It was unimaginable, the horror of passing through the murky murk with a methed up Nan tooting a drug-fueled vengeance at me. Dead race. Rigged to her liking. I never stood a chance.


    ¡°Stop! Alright. Never do dope when you¡¯re mad. I didn¡¯t say I was unwilling. Look at me, I¡¯m massive willing,¡± I said gesturing to my cock. She didn¡¯t laugh. So I dropped the towel, fell to my knees, pressing my forehead on the handmade Persian rug and continued: ¡°Divinity, sweet love of mine. My mind wanders. A slave is but a body in a mind, shackled to a master. A slave forgets. I¡¯ll bleed for you. I¡¯ll crawl inside you and plant the seed of life. Let me in. Please. Let me come in. I¡¯ll be good. Let me hold my promise.¡±


    The tapping seized. I didn¡¯t dare to look up. Floor vibrating, creaking under her weight. Breath burning against my neck. Gentle hands caressing my stretched out back with teasing nails scraping its surface. Raisin foot slithering down and under, across my throat, locking me into a Camorah. Wet cunt easing into its nest on top of my head, pushing me down until I couldn¡¯t breathe, rectal fire of unlubed entry.


    ¡°Beg me for it.¡±

 k9 – mpty

    ¡°Is he any good?¡± Cortez had his legs swung up on the table, chair tilted all the way back, poised like the king of Candytown¡ªking of the disillusioned inbreds, Lord of Unwant.


    ¡°Good? Fuck me man. Nobodys¡¯ good when they rolling in new. Willing? Maybe. Desperate? Now we¡¯re talking truths.¡±


    ¡°But you vouch for him? He fucks up, it''s on you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± I looked out over the tiled rooftops of MCity tainted hazy blue through the sun-film plastered on the glass, trying to envision the poor woman who bred this asshole. ¡°What¡¯re you gonna do if he tanks? Give me a swirly?¡±


    ¡°Max,¡± he said all serious, putting his feet back on the floor where they belonged. ¡°The higher ups like you. You¡¯re a good earner. You¡¯re also replaceable. Every salesman has his day. All big words when the wind blows his way, but it can easily shift. I¡¯d be careful if I were you.¡± He picked up a phone and went on a scroll. All the while I just stood there, looking at the emptiness of his office. There wasn¡¯t a single thing hinting that we weren¡¯t just standing in a cardboard display occupiable by anybody. No memorabilia, not so much as a coat. Then I forced myself to look at him, spite rising. Ratty eyes, ratty features, ratty walk and a ratty roll on the R¡¯s when he talked. Cortez was only a couple years older than me, and for some unfathomable reason there he was. Rocking a corner office that resembled a scrub, with an honorary title of COO earning just as much as I did on a good month. I¡¯d done the math, looked him up. Yet somehow, in his world, he was king of the mongrels. Being all ratty must¡¯ve clouded his vision. He¡¯d made it. Climbed all the way to the top on his pink little legs.


    ¡°Cortez,¡± I exhaled. ¡°Get him on the payroll, fasttrack it. And get me a damn fine cup of steaming java.¡±


    ¡°What? What did you say?¡±


    ¡°Just messing with you Mr Rolex. Relax. He¡¯ll start tomorrow. Or the day after. Whenever. Pull up the contract.¡±


    I was about to exit through the glass wall when he tapped at the cheap desk.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°He starts next week with the new batch.¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Get back to work,¡± he commanded, shooing me away with his wrist while looking at his fingernails.


    ¡°Whatever you say Candyman.¡±


    ¡°Watch it, Max.¡±


    ¡°Yes boss! Anything else boss?¡±


    He replied something but I was already out the door, walking into a mist of sweat and roaring voices trying to deafen the latest smash-hit from DJ Pineapple or some other top 100 flavor of the month. I walked the short distance to Benny, past Fadhi who patted my shoulder like he thought I¡¯d just come out of the receiving end of a beating. Beady eyes from all over the floor followed my stroll. Peering over their computers, compulsive glances. The entire sty spun around with their two dollar headsets, clad in a guise of worry, like they all thought the same thing¡ªI¡¯d been had. I slumped down in my chair. Benny was in the middle of a call, looking at me while he wiped away imaginary snot.


    ¡°That¡¯s right Sam. Do you mind if I call you Sam?¡±


    He tossed me a cleanax, and that¡¯s when it clicked. My nose was bleeding. I looked around myself, eyes of my peers averting just before I could catch them, spun my back towards them, head tilted back and wiped off.


    ¡°Now for the price of what you¡¯re paying today I can upgrade you, throw in a couple of premium channels, and a box free of charge. How does that sound Sam? It sure does. Now I haven¡¯t even gotten to the good part yet. You said you liked sports Sam. Well here¡¯s the deal¡­¡±


    I rolled my eyes at him, plugged into the headset and pressed enter. The dialer tooted its disapproval. Tapping Teddy¡¯s number into the console, I re-routed the call. Beep. Beep. Beep.


    ¡°It¡¯s Teddy. Who this?¡±


    ¡°Why hello there mister Theodore. How are you this fine morning?¡±


    ¡°Max?¡±


    ¡°Sure is. Now I¡¯m calling to inquire about your current TV setup, and I¡¯m particularly interested in hearing about what you do in the middle of the woods on a Friday night. If you were to find yourself in such a conundrum.¡±


    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    ¡°What the hell are you on about? You at work?¡±


    ¡°He he he¡­ You don¡¯t say! Now I don¡¯t mean to intrude Jimmy, but I really do need to know what you¡¯re doing in the woods at night.¡±


    Benny was staring all blank at me while reading the contract for one Monochrome S Level TV Subscription. Two desks over, Harry, some new Ricky Martin-looking kid, seethed in silence as Benny took a verbal stroll down victory lane.


    ¡°I¡¯m alive. Isn¡¯t that enough for you?¡±


    ¡°Well as much as I¡¯m pleased to hear that Jane, I¡¯d like you to elaborate. Terribly sorry, I meant to say Eve.¡±


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°Are you happy with your current supplier?¡±


    ¡°Can you cut this cryptic shit! What the hell do you want?¡±


    ¡°I understand. But do they also provide fornication?¡±


    I could hear a faint gasp.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to assume that they do. Congratulations, you are better off as it is. May I say one last thing before we end the call?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not gonna fucking tell you about it.¡±


    ¡°You got a job. Con-fucking-gratulations you little shit. I¡¯ll text you the details.¡±


    I hung up, put the headset down and pushed off a lap in the chair. Unbelievable. Teddy had done did it. By what hidden workings of the universe, I didn¡¯t bother investigating, but it sure as bits wasn¡¯t on his own accord. He must¡¯ve had help from the other side, odds stacked in his favor over the ether. Nonetheless, a warmth bubbled up inside. We¡¯d made it, cracked the mold and broken free.


    I stopped in Benny¡¯s general direction. He rounded off Sammy real nice, slipped his headset off around his neck.


    ¡°What was that all about?¡± he asked.


    ¡°What? With Cortez?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    ¡°Nothing. You¡¯ll see.¡±


    ¡°Okidoki then. I''ll mark that up as number seven today. You¡¯re gonna have to try harder if you want to beat me.¡± He tried to look superior but I couldn¡¯t believe him. If I¡¯d called him out on it he¡¯d probably apologize and offer to buy me lunch. Management had banged their heads together in an effort to boost the office morale, putting on an office-wide sales contest where three lucky winners would cash in big. How big, they wouldn¡¯t say, but after some squeezing and extorting, Fadhi had spilled that it involved a plasma TV and an iPad. Naturally the entire floor already knew, and management really had outdone themselves. The phones were running hot, downtime was minimal. Abdhi hadn¡¯t once put a newspaper under his arm, pulled up his imaginary suspenders and commenced his geriatric walk to the loo for a routine thirty minute shitter. Benny had the lead, me close behind, and there was a fierce battle going on in the midfield, contestants keen on not losing positions in the slipstream.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a contest Benny-boy. And none of these peasants stand a chance. You want the plasma? So you take first place. I¡¯m perfectly fine with an iPad. I¡¯ll just sell it anyway.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ll be able to sell the TV for more.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll give you sleepless nights in the process,¡± I said and winked. ¡°Nah Benny-boyo. Now be a nice lad and go write it up on the scoreboard. I suggest you walk real slow when you pass Ricky Dynamite. He hasn¡¯t sold shit all day. You might inspire him. Parade for the conscripts y¡¯know. You up for beers with Teddy later? Ali, maybe, yes?¡±


    He nodded in response, soared out of frame. Ricky Martin was staring at us. Not even concealing it, just a big old grumpy stare. Real cocky bastard he was. Sold on his first day and no good it did him. Rose to his head. Mouth going off at every smoke break about how this and that fucked him over, by the skin of his teeth Agatha slipped away from him. Now here he was, as close to our corner as you could possibly come ¨C he¡¯d even requested it ¨C moving fuck-all. I lifted my hand towards him as if to propose a toast, but he just shook his head. No champagne. I oi¡¯ed for Fadhi who was monitoring some new girl¡¯s calls.


    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving early today.¡±


    ¡°How many have you sold?¡±


    ¡°Five.¡±


    ¡°Ok. That¡¯s good. Not great, but it¡¯s good.¡± He looked to the ceiling, doing his usual theatrical pause where he waits until I feel an inferiority complex coming on and promise him riches. It was working.


    ¡°So I¡¯m out of here after two more.¡±


    ¡°You said four more? Sure Max. Four more and you do whatever you want mon fr¨¦re.¡±


    ¡°Gheesh. Four?! Nobody else sells nine in a day ever.¡±


    ¡°Nobody else waltzes out of her before closing and lets his ghost cash checks either. Is it too steep for you?¡±


    ¡°Twat,¡± I said and straddled the headset.


    ¡°Max,¡± he muffled over the ringtone. ¡°I¡¯ll throw something major in the mix if you pull it off, yeah?¡±


    ¡°Whatever. Can we get rid of Cortez? I¡¯ll stay until midnight if you get rid of him.¡±


    ¡°Haha! You don¡¯t like him? Trust me. You¡¯ll like the surprise.¡±


    ¡°Fadhi?¡±


    ¡°Yes? I need to take a leak! Hurry up.¡±


    ¡°Got some more candy?¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± he replied, scanning around himself for eavesdroppers, and then continued in a semi-whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you some at the same spot.¡± He smiled and waddled off like some child about to piss itself. When Fadhi told me that he¡¯d started doing tram, it didn¡¯t come as a shock, but when he went on, sharing the tidbit of science that Tramadol is the perfect drug for televending, my interest piqued. Apparently he¡¯d learnt it from a guy up on thirteen. A longtimer who¡¯d been running the numbers, testing his hypothesis together with a handful of colleagues. Whenever he gave them tram, their numbers went up around 20 percent over the span of a month. So when Fadhi offered me some when I had a hard time getting up to speed, still struggling to muster a will to live after the comedown post-weekend with Nan¡­ well he¡¯s a saint among heathens.


    Teddy was quick to respond to my invitation, as was Ali. Nine o¡¯clock sharp at Bretskji Square. I pretended to make calls, waiting for Fadhi to relieve himself, and as the door opened, him looking my way, doing as subtle a nod as only an Arab can do, relief was instant.

 k10 – agn

    When we entered the South Slick Blues Festival, we knocked the average age down by a quarter. Teddy wasn¡¯t answering his phone, so with Ali and Benny in tow, I coasted through a plethora of leather vests and Dundee hats, elbowing my way towards a tent in the farthest corner of the fairgrounds foretold by Ali to house a mystery worth the trip. An adventurous nerve spurred us deeper into the sludge that got more rowdy with every passing mustache and ponytail. The whole area couldn¡¯t have measured more than half a football field, yet the density of flesh gave me Roskilde feels, old timers yelling and slurring so hard they might as well have been Danes.


    The sign saying Pit of Jack ushered us into a condensed debauchery that no trauma imaginable could''ve prepared us for. A white rectangular circus tent, packed to the rafters with prime specimens sporting a collective feverish animal intensity in their eyes, two rows of tables stretching its entire length. It reminded me of the Pig Fests we used to sneak into at outback shitholes within a reasonable length from Pisstown. Back when we were pre-legal, attempting to utilize the redneckian hospitality to get drunk and mingle with our roots. The crowd was different, but the feels were the same. Back then Teddy¡¯s sister was the portal into the circles that actually managed to pass for locals at the Swine Debauchery. We''d always get kicked out, and I had a feeling that history today would repeat itself for entirely different reasons. A quick look at Benny confirmed that he shared my unease and misplacement. Ali on the other hand, the truly misplaced, the singular Arab in a sea of white, our lighthouse to safely take us ashore, looked mighty content. I began to question his judgment, and as I ran the internal scolding, he just laughed at me over some rugaduudang blaring out of speakers in hiding, like he could read my mind. Before I was able to say something, he eeled his way through the wobbling crowd, navigating the waves of movement like a seasoned captain until they swallowed him whole. Reeling Benny closer, I almost licked his ear trying to surpass the cacophony.


    ¡°Wanna get out of here?¡± I shouted, apparently too loud as he pulled back.


    ¡°What?!¡±


    ¡°DO¡ªYOU¡­¡± The thought-process got derailed when he looked past me into the crowd, nodded to the unnamed and followed Ali¡¯s lead. In place of grace and maneuverability, he carried force and volume, playing by the rules of the road as the blob of people parted ways to allow his passage. Before they closed up, I managed to slip through, spotting the misfutts, Teddy and Ali, sitting at the end of the table, right by the makeshift bar. Some thing or another was off with the scene, and after settling in, taking a seat next to Teddy, the dots connected. Behind the bar stood none other than Habib, Ali¡¯s little brother, serving booze to the ragamuffins. Teddy leaned close.


    ¡°Five, that¡¯s how many fights I almost got dragged into saving this here spot.¡±


    ¡°Well what the hell are we doing here anyway, by God. I haven¡¯t been to one of these in years. Gotta say, it don¡¯t age pretty.¡±


    The whole bench started pulling backwards, like someone was trying to tip us over. Teddy nodded towards the entrance, and I turned around just in time to catch a scrawny fella¡¯ slowly tipping, hitting the palets hard. His neighbors shook their heads, poured the remainder of his beer between them and got straight back to business.


    ¡°Alright!¡± Ali yelled as we were all reaching the top of our thresholds. ¡°The booze is free tonight, so we¡¯ll dunk it down and get the fuck out as fast as possible. Questions?¡±


    Before we could answer, he was already standing, slipping by the side of the counter, returning with plastic mugs placed two and two. Habib ignored him, trying to interpret the gibberish of a scrawny looking hag holding up three fingers. In a flash, he shot off a wink in our direction.


    ¡°So you gonna take the job or what?¡± I yelled to Teddy, hopefully loud enough to include Benny¡¯s hearing zone. I felt sorta bad for him, smiling dumbly like he had a stick up his arse. Probably trying to avoid eye contact with any and all. Clever boyo.


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°Jesus fucking Christ, Ali!¡±


    They both shook their heads, no comprende-like.


    ¡°Listen, listen!¡± Ali stretched under the table, scrambled around for a bit, popped back up holding a neon green frisbee in one hand, two die in the other. Three dumbfounded faces mirrored each other, one or two members of the wildlife peeping interestedly, wondering what the mad arab was up to. He continued, yelling in short bursts. ¡°Keywords! Time¡ªWhiteys¡ªArab¡ªDrunk¡ªLynching.¡± He paused, tied a noose around his neck, hoisted himself up, looked at us in turn to make sure we got the message. ¡°Game¡ªDrink.¡± We nodded, clad in fair-enough faces. ¡°Die¡ªToss.¡± He tossed them into the frisbee turned upside down. ¡°Sub six¡ªYou drink¡ªOver, rest drink¡ªDouble die, three sips, either direction¡ªDouble six, all drink.¡±


    With the finishing words, droplets of liquid rained down from above, inaudible shouting cranked up behind us, and a rotund bastard looking unphased, a plotter of beer-soak on his undersized t-shirt, threw a chubby middle finger flying over our heads towards the assumed tosser. This set off the clock as Teddy grabbed the disc, flipped the die into the air and we all watched as they came ca-ca-cadaking down, bouncing round the edges, deciding on six-six. Obviously nobody could remember what to do, so Ali, our stoical leader, swigged his glass in full, side-eyed us as he did and with the free hand pushed an invisible tube up up up towards the ceiling.


    A full circle on we were educated novices, two more, hardened professionals. In terms of games to speeden drinking, Ali had outdone himself. Round four came and went, five was but a flicker, six we saw the first signs of struggle, and through seven nobody cheered. Glasses replenished faster than we could drain them, Ali bouncing up and about, meandering through the masses careful not to spill a single lick as we flung ourselves against the race of time. Meanwhile the swine had transmogrified into an intestinal wall swelling with cancerous bubos, rectifying any space available to grow and fester, nearing the center of our brethren mass. We were being squeezed to death, and the first to suggest that he''d seen the needle prick escape window, the tunnel of light, was Teddy. The dice kept rolling, frisbee going round and round. Cries of agony, exclamations of triumph when no drink had to be drank. Tumors multiplying, my insides a bubbling catastrophe. An overdose of carbohydrates, each belch setting the next one up for potential vomit. Ali looked like he''d just stepped out of the sauna, bloodshot eyes, sweat pearling his forehead. I''d lost count of the orbits when he for the endtimes tried to get up to top us with a fresh set of mugs. A properly marinated slug bowled right into him, seemingly deliberate. She caught him off guard completely and he tumbled ribs first into the table sending shockwaves down the line. Angry faces on telescope necks beamed their headlights our way. I had a hard time convincing myself that this was all in the name of Blues. Benny, despite his five-up on us in terms of internal storage, smiled dumbly with eyes closed, drunk as a sailor, Teddy''s head on a swivel trying to take it all in. The wobbly hag snapped at Ali who laughed a hearty one before spitting her right in the mouth. A quick glance further down the longboard confirmed that the asshole was rapidly clenching, bikerbois getting up, pushing their way towards Ali. Like an obelisk Habib rose above the sea of flesh and waved to me or Teddy or anyone capable of receiving inbound coms. The lynching was on. So I clambered up the table and jumped between Ali and Benny into the first body reluctant to receive me, sent her crashing into the next in line, confusion and rage spreading like wildfire to her neighbors, snatched Benny up by the collar and pushed Ali forward into the arms of Teddy who shrieked a proper gargoyle madlad scream that pierced a hole in the intestinal tissue, big enough to squeeze through. We dove behind the bar where a hand was waving us in through the oily cloth, a hole big enough to crouch through on nimble feet, unless you''re on the Ali beat. I kicked him in the arse for guidance, more laughing, let Benny roll past me and when it was my time to dive, a hand clenched my shoulder. It belonged to a scrawny, ZZ Top looking fucker, fist swung back ready to catapult right into me. I braced for impact, clawed at my shoulder for freedom, when a hand big as a pot lid swallowed the man''s face, dragged him backwards and onto the pallet floor, boots like boats stomping the very lifeblood out of the poor bastard. "MAAAAAAAX" thundered over the cacophony and rumble, Teddy''s bony hand in mine, pulling me towards the hole. I got through, confronted by uniformed guards waiting by a fence too high to vault, Habib between them, whispering in the ear of one. The uniform looked worried, nodded, lifted a pole outuvva a hole, pulled the fence apart. Habib hugged Ali, started giggling like weird fooken Arabs do when all is horror and fuckery, and in an instant we were out. Free, in clear air. Gawking and wooping, screams of terror and fear, fury and murder fading as we trailed the canal at top speed with no direction what so ever.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Holy bloody hell! Holy shit!"


    "What the fuxk Ali, what in the bleedering fick."


    "Wait up fellas we got a straggler."


    Leaning against the tombstone of one B. C. Aderton, Benny had taken up a triangular self-evac position, breathing heavy. Ali put himself in reverse, pulled up alongside the giant, patted his back from a minimum distance with soothing lullabies of just throat it man, ram em down and we''ll be kangs.


    "Looks like he lost the spring o'' step myes," I told Teddy, pacing in circles around a decayed block of granite that used to be a winged woman, dented, chipped, just like Henderton, Grossist, rotting away underneath her.


    "Oh just you watch, it''ll be glorious," he replied after some pondering.


    So I did, cus why not? A barf of the ages. Some further coaxing and there he goes, index and middle poised like a gun aimed at the back of his throat, barrel inserted. Ali had stopped patting, taken a step back. Benny gurgled, hit the reflex, sounds of a rabid dog biting its own leg off, salivating profusely, spitting out chunks of foaming white. But he was struggling to hit the home run, to pop the dam. Come on biggie just fucking pu¡ª and a river of orange shot out of Ali''s mouth. Benny laughed, hand still in-mouth, which must''ve shook the right vibration, unlocked a cascade of rancid yella dripping down stone. This in turn set Ali off on another round, clasping his kneecaps, legs spread wide, hurling wave after wave. And so they went, tag-teaming the evacuation of entrails, spewing til they''d blessed every inch of the Aderton race. Teddy looked on in awe. I had to turn away and focus on suppressing my own internal rumblings, worsened by the audiovisual performance. Too much to handle. When the slushing and gushing had been replaced by pants and moans, I suggested we get a move on.


    "Fuck no, I needa'' eat," Benny said. "Whew! That''s it for me you guys."


    "What!" I replied. "After a glorious start as such you''re calling quits? Mayn what is this."


    "Allaaaah," went Ali and started rambling in Arabic, strings of snot and bile connecting his face to the ground.


    "Make sure he gets on the train," Teddy said to Benny who nodded, smiled, spat a fat loogie and took Ali under the arm.


    "Champions. Lovely outing," I shouted after him with no reply from either. So I turned to Teddy, smug crooked smile I''d been waiting to pop off since I sat down next to him in the tent. "And who do we have here ei? Don''t fancy I seen you before."


    "Yeah yeah," he said, rolled his eyes and started off further into the cemetery, away from the comforting lights and guitar riffs, beckoned by pines like mountains, shadows and quiet.


    "Yeah? Whadya'' mean yeah yeh? A boy is mauled senseless by the universe, begs for redemption from the snatch of a Mother. Finds deliverance on a golden platter, served by that same universe. And he says yeah yeh. Why not? I''m a believer, yeyeh?"


    "Why you gotta be so nasty about it?"


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to. It¡¯s just¡­ ah hell. Have you talked to her? You know. After the rave.¡±


    "Fuck no."


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    He made several attempts at words. Lips opening, shutting, coming up short. Under the oaks and pines, towering guardians of the dead outlined against blacker clouds, things were getting weird. Movements of nighttime critters enhanced. Twigs rustled, shrubbery jostled, squirrels and hedgehogs, hobos and sexually depraved. Opportunists lying in wait for the unsuspecting, hiding in the leafworks, luring prey down moldy catacombs, blades drawn, rubbers unwrapping. I was seeing things everywhere, skin on edge, muscles tensed as the cemetery had swallowed us.


    "Mayn I''m getting the bad feels about this. Why we gotta go this way Teddy? Whaddya do? Did you rape her?"


    The moon peered down from a slit in the ceiling, marking us for all to see with its searchlight beacon.


    "It¡­"


    "Let''s go back man."


    "It was my first time Max."


    "Shh¡­"


    "And it was weird. Just¡­ awkward. Limbs everywhere and you know¡­ she was nice about it. We talked a lot¡­"


    Ignoring my plea, as if stuck in a trance, he moved further in, purposely avoiding the gravel paths, walking over mounds and graves, disregarding all respect for the dead, like he thought he was one of them. I decided to unfuss, play the good ploy.


    "Wait¡­ So you like¡­ Errh. What''re you feeling Teddy? Cus'' it appears to me that you''re short a cherry."


    ¡°I feel like shit. Ok? It¡¯s embarrassing.¡±


    "Bah! Everyone''s a jackass the first time, running the what-a-hole a what-a-notta polka. Can''t be helped. It''s like you''re drilled all youth for combat, polish your rifle and they keep tooting into your dense nog that the day will come, the glorious day when Charlie charges over that ridge, and with conviction you walk around, erect, cus'' by the grace of Mother you''ll know what the fuxx to do. And so the day arrives, Charlie in burning splendor pours over the crest, bumrushing down the hill headed straight for your throat, and all those years playing hide and seek with the regiment cockhead flash past ya. Face to face with the living, pulsating, flesh-eating monstrosity, all you can do is spray and pray. Nobody makes it out alive Teddy. Casualty rate one hundred."


    "What the fuck are you on about?"


    I skipped a few steps to catch up, laid my hands on his shoulders and turned the morose-looking thing around, honed in on the soul cowering behind black beads in a glossy sea of arctic blue.


    ¡°It¡¯s always horribly weird and excruciatingly awkward. You¡¯re fed the image of babymen on steroids, making and taking, magnets on collision with the secrets of the universe, but it¡¯s all fucking bullshit. Everyone¡¯s a fucking babyman in an airinflated action suit. Weak, off-point and on the drill, pounding mantras of self-worth to uphold the facade of significance towards the external world. But the walls crumble. They¡¯re fucking trembling all trepid inside when the lights go out and they¡¯re nothing but lonely in that big dark room, terrors of the night lurking outside. Fucking is the expression of anger for all the times Mummy wasn¡¯t there for you, and the facade of dominance is the babyman showing Mummy what a big boy he is. I''m not gonna pretend I know fuck all about tis and tat, piss and tw?t, the quest lies not in the destruction of babyman, or in the pump-pump merry-go-round. You buy the ticket, take the ride. Don''t harass the locals, adopt their customs, compliment the service staff.¡±


    Teddy slapped me.


    ¡°You¡¯re not making any goddamn sense!¡±


    ¡°Fuck! Listen Teddy. It was awkward. I get it. You feel shit about it. But now it¡¯s done. It¡¯s over! And the next time will be less awkward, etcetera, ad infinitum. Trodden through the gates of Hades, but it¡¯s just a cardboard mockup. You¡¯re not dead or dying. The cock will have his day.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll slap you again you goddamn moron,¡± he said with despair. But he was also laughing.


    "That''s the spirit bucko, I gotta get home man. Nan is jonesing, I can feel it." His eyes were big as golf balls now, looking over my shoulder as he pushed me off him.


    "Eh, hello?" Behind me, no more than a couple of feet away, stood a woman, slim figure, broad shoulders and long, luscious hair, face dimly visible in the moonlight penetrating the cope. She''d appeared noiselessly, a specter, poltergeist of Want, restless ghost of Aderton summoned to claim revenge.


    "We don''t have any money so whatever robbry this be it''s gonna end in a whole lotta disappointment," I said.


    "You," she said in a coarse bass, pointing at me, "are not making any goddamn sense at all. Sex is about connection, about sharing your most private self with another in the most vulnerable form. Yes, it''s awkward in the beginning, and I''m sorry you''re feeling sad Teddy. That''s your name right?"


    Dumbfounded, I just looked on, guard lowering, mind conflicted.


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°It takes time,¡± she continued. ¡°To learn how to be vulnerable, to learn how to give and to take. But he¡¯s partially right in one thing, that men are oblivious to the makings of good sex. Is that what you were getting at?¡±


    ¡°Ehhhh,¡± I replied, scratched my chin. ¡°I can¡¯t remember what I said. Maybe? Teddy, let''s get out of here.¡±


    ¡°But it feels like I messed up,¡± he said. ¡°Like she was expecting something and I came up with a whole lotta nothing.¡±


    ¡°Look, don¡¯t let the first time get you down. Some of us has an angelic introduction to the sexual, others have it taken by force, and most, like yourself, don¡¯t even know what to make of the experience. Tell me, have you ever done something new, and instinctively knew exactly how to deconstruct the situation, how to move and talk and fiddle? You are not the center of the universe, worse things have happened. She most likely won¡¯t recall your evening together with loathing or contempt. You talked a lot? Trust me, as a woman, she would¡¯ve up and left if there was nothing for her to gain from your encounter.¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± I interrupted. ¡°He is the center of all life, dead or otherwise, so don¡¯t get all fancy and start sprouting ideas here. Teddy, we¡¯re leaving.¡±


    We started walking through a different cutout than the one we entered, seeing as our exit was blocked, requiring grace and a wee bit of luck not to get tangled up or stabbed.


    ¡°I can show you how to love Teddy,¡± she called. ¡°That goes for you too hot shot.¡±


    ¡°Teddy, that is a man.¡±


    ¡°No shit.¡±


    ¡°You wanna sook da cook, Teddy-boi?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    I turned around, called through the shrubbery to the figure now out of sight.


    ¡°He¡¯s confused, we know where to find ya. May the hunt favor yee, bounties be long and arterious.¡±

 k11 – g00ner

    ¡°I miss you Max. It feels like we haven¡¯t done anything just us in forever.¡± Nan took a drag, snuggled closer, her hair sending itching twitching shivers through my spine. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Whew just a shudder. Mmh, this work-stuff is a bastard pain. Listen, how about this. We¡¯ll sort us out this weekend. No intrusions, just you and me. Picnic in the park after dark, barhop until they toss us out. Yeah? Go to some fancy place for dinner, get shitfaced on fine wine and harass the regulars.¡±


    ¡°Th, no. Not like that. That¡¯s not what I want.¡±


    I felt invisible on our bench. Engulfed by a mass of people strolling around the commercial street¡¯s clouded cobblestones. Inaudible through the chatter of families on outings, burning through their savings. Japanese tourists with cameras dangling round their necks. Vagrant youth on summer holidays spreading unease by merely existing. I could¡¯ve said anything at all and nobody would¡¯ve noticed. I¡¯ve got a bomb! People prancing around with shopping bags enjoying the dopamine high. Like the kebab-man just walked past. Glossy hair-noir moussed up, D&G sunglasses, draped in designer shit from glossy toes on up, with a glossy bag dangling from his hairy gold-watch wrist. He was positively radiating. Yesterday he took orders and hectored an army of three brandishing kebab-blades and sauce bottles. Or the generic family of five. Defeated look on daddy¡¯s face as he tried to keep tabs on the kids with little success, lid kept on despite the tauntings and teasings of the eldest. She¡¯s smart, she knows he can¡¯t hit her out here.


    ¡°I want to become really really small and live inside of you,¡± Nan said after silence.


    ¡°But babe,¡± I replied, shaking her off me so that I could envelop her face with my palms, forehead-against-forehead. ¡°Ok. So you mean just us. Locked doors, disconnected phones. A carton of Tram and MD, bubbly, music, corny love poems.¡±


    She smiled, nodded.


    ¡°No uppers,¡± she continued. ¡°I can¡¯t stand it. Like the last come-down ¨C after the forest ¨C I literally wanted to kill myself.¡± She sighed. ¡°I just wanna get away from everything. From this shit town and all the shit people. I mean¡­ look at them!¡± She gestured to the onglancers and bypassers, triggering nothing more than an involuntary mental note within her subjects. ¡°I wanna go back to Marrakech again, or Istanbul, South Africa. My blood is on fire Max. I need to start moving.¡±


    Nan had been around. A wanderer. She quit school to start working, saved up enough dough to jet around the earth while the rest of us had barely crossed state borders. When she met me I was a proper hick in comparison, terrified to even entergo into MCity. In all fairness, my image of the outside world had been tainted by rotten encounters with proper slags. I only left the county to score, re-up, make a cashdrop, getting summoned to rat¡¯s nests in the projects by two-faced peddlers on an upward trajectory. Forced to share joints with vagrants and bangers, listen to stories that made me wanna gone git faster than I¡¯d arrived. I¡¯d hated it. Every second of it. Like when me and Teddy went to MCity the day before New Year¡¯s Eve a couple of years back, told by a friend of a friend to get off the Paresiborg station. Hooded specters crept in and out of stairwells. Beamers drove by real slowlike, dead eyes of cleancut Arabs weighing us down. Naturally we stared back, as you do. There are rules of engagement. A fish reeks and calls for easy pickings. We¡¯d both been around long enough to play the part, heart racing, adrenaline pumping, rationale screaming in a frenzy to get back on the train. Go home, lock the doors. Stop pushing, kiss yah muddah. Start going to church, bomb an abortion clinic. The number was a dud. An hour we waited with no response. My complaints in text, that we¡¯d made the trip and weren¡¯t leaving empty handed, were futile. So Teddy tried his sister and to our surprise she said she¡¯d oblige on the condition that we bought some for her as well, pro bono. Thirty minutes and a stroll down to the Chaplin Grill later, a jittery bastard comes up, asks us what we want. We were going for the general direction of mushrooms, but curious about today¡¯s specials. He recommended the acid, said he¡¯d stopped selling benzo on account of being unable to keep his fingers away from the supplies. Said the last time he took it he¡¯d blacked out for two days, woken up outside of IKEA in the blinding headlights of a patrol car in the middle of the night, shirt covered in blood with a box cutter in his hand. The coppers thought he¡¯d attempted suicide, drove him to the hospital where they couldn¡¯t find a single scratch. So stay away from the bennies kids, hehe. Jessie, Teddy¡¯s sister, told me that she fell in love with me in that trip. That some higher power had overwhelmed her, chanting internally that she must have me. That''s also the explanation she gave for the bite mark on my forehead that very evening. It started with her toying that she wanted to eat me, when suddenly she sunk her teeth in hard enough to puncture skin. All while Teddy was glued to his computer chair, playing Super Mario Brothers on an emulator, bitpop rolling over the hop hop boop boop.


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    And then came Nan and swept me off my feet. As soon as I¡¯d saved up enough money, I wanted to show her that I could play ball, pass off as a fellow metropolitan. We bought tickets to Amsterdam, roamed around town on a budget reserved for highs, barely eating over the whole weekend. Next came Marocko where they told us the hashish was so strong it put the dogs to sleep, tram was sold over the counter, porter of our shabby hotel giving us tips of different villages in the mountains where we could stay for weeks at his aunties or uncles if we wanted to, by the foot of the Atlas mountains, poppy fields your neighbor. Nan in Marocko was a sight. They¡¯d never seen anything like it before. Couldn¡¯t keep their eyes off her. They¡¯d seen foreigners, women ¨C sure. But no Nan. Carrying herself like she knew her worth. Knew exactly how to lift every man up with a simple wink, make him soar, offer her whatever she wanted. And now, it was time again.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re not exactly loaded,¡± I replied.


    ¡°So you bragging about how much you¡¯re selling? It¡¯s all words?¡±


    ¡°You know that the big check comes in next month. And besides, that can¡¯t take us anywhere worthwhile. You wanna go on a ferryride to Poland? I know some people.¡±


    ¡°Very funny.¡± She laid down on the bench, head in my lap, lifted up her sunglasses, before continuing. ¡°When summer¡¯s over I¡¯m going. I can¡¯t stand doing this shit anymore. I¡¯ll have a fit if I have to ask another person if they wanna join Amnesty.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you ask them something else? Where they stand on female genital mutilation?¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Don¡¯t ruin the moment.¡±


    ¡°Had a guy from the Red Cross stop me the other day, asked me what do you think about female mutilation? And I was like, huh? And he was like, do you know what female mutilation is? I nodded, and he asks well what do you think about it? Isn¡¯t that just cheap? Like I¡¯m gonna debate him on it. It¡¯s rigged, everything in that whole conversation works from the premise that I¡¯m an asshole that don¡¯t give two shits about sacrificial labia if I walk off.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ruining it.¡±


    ¡°He left me no choice.¡±


    She sighed.


    ¡°What did you say?¡±


    ¡°That I¡¯d had one and I loved it, wouldn¡¯t trade it for anything in the world.¡±


    The clouds parted ever so slightly, letting a lonesome ray of sun trickle down on our lot just past the rooftops of the towering buildings with their neon letters in pink and red. I too wanted to vomit on all of it. The menial office existence starting to get to me, Mom guilt-tripping me for not coming over to visit as much, Cor-fucking-tez prancing around the cubicles. I felt a snap coming on. A need to destroy something. Anything. But at the same time, a new dawn was peering over the horizon. Teddy joining the ranks of Todo International was a sure sign that we were passing over some sort of ledge, a wild ride that enticed me to carry on. Monday was coming up real fast, and with some sleight of hand I could find a way to reconnect with Nan over the weekend, calm her down, and focus all my energy on Teddy. You can¡¯t get bored when you¡¯re around him, you just can¡¯t.


    I caressed Nan¡¯s arm, all velvet. Not a hair on her body, except for their designated areas. She was the strong one. The one supposed to carry me like an effigy inside her, but I could sense a rift, a distortion since our outing to the woods. A kid, around four or five, walked up to us with his dumb-looking kid¡¯s face grinning.


    I wanted to punch it, but didn¡¯t even get to finish the thought before he was tucked onwards by his mother via the leash attached around his waist.


    ¡°Jesus fucking christ,¡± I whispered.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we just clock out? Go to the beach.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d love it. But I got a meeting with the big man ¨C CEO Williams ¨C in ten minutes.¡±


    ¡°How utterly fucking boring,¡± she said and lit another cigarette.

 k12 – oot

    Entering the stairwell I could smell a faint hint of weed that grew stronger and stronger the further up I went. Floor by floor I left the ground, stalked through submarine windows by a clementine sun. There was something going on in our apartment, and as I approached the door I took a deep breath. I heard rivaling steps ca-dak ca-dak ca-daking from up above. Like a snare out of sync with the muffled noise proposedly originating from the same place as the weed. Rounding the last rail, we met. A woman, neat and tidy in a slim skirt below the knees, casual silk shirt, heels. The kind who¡¯d call the cops on her neighbors out of spite or charity, or host orgies in some mansion off grid. I said hi. She replied. Asked me to turn down the volume when I stopped outside our door as she and her mildly intoxicating fragrance passed me by. Nodding, I complimented her choice of route.


    ¡°People are so loafish these days, aren¡¯t they? So utterly useless,¡± I added. She turned around, weighed, concealed a smile or annoyance. It was impossible to tell from our angle.


    ¡°Just keep it down, okay?¡±


    I fumbled with my keys, re-assured her that I would make it my top priority, only to stall the entry to what must be a portal to Pusher Street. The odor pricked my nostrils, nauseating, like cheap grass soaked in petrol. The Smiths were playing some tune that I never caught on to, greeting me full blast as I entered a puddle of jumbled shoes. I counted two foreign pairs when Eve danced passed the doorway to the adjacent living room, smiling and nodding with her eyes closed, holding hands with vocal Morrisey bitching about inflation in the joys of living. She jumpscared when I hey¡¯d on my way to the balcony for a smoke.


    ¡°Oh man! What a freaking rush! Feel my heart.¡±


    She grabbed my hand and placed it between the knitted tank-top cleavage, hand grazing the unholy, and after confirming that she was indeed living I pocketed the hand to hide the molestation from Nan and the world. Mostly Nan though.


    ¡°What¡¯re you two up to?¡± the coy voice of my lover shouted over the lyrics.


    ¡°Checking for a pulse,¡± I replied, certain that she must¡¯ve seen it. ¡°I¡¯m a doctor you know.¡±


    ¡°I forget. I think I need an exam. I¡¯m feinting,¡± she said and came towards me, collapsing in my arms, sneaking a cheeky butt-squeeze right in front of Eve. I felt pissed on.


    ¡°Have you two been tokin¡¯ up in here? It¡¯s reeking onto the streets, man.¡±


    Walking over to the stereo, I drowned Morry¡¯s wailings to a whisper.


    ¡°Ahh finally,¡± someone said behind me. ¡°Can¡¯t stand that shit. So soulless.¡±


    He was some off-breed of a scrawny hipster. Clearly ironic clothing, peppered with moth holes. Hair cut short with a wild, untrimmed beard and kind eyes.


    ¡°We had to smoke inside,¡± Nan chirped. ¡°The neighbors are out on the balcony barbecuing. You''re the paranoid one.¡±


    "They did what?"


    Squirming past the beardman I confirmed it. Smoke billowing up the side of the adjacent balcony, coarse voices in convivial conversation.


    "That''s just¡­ I can''t even find the words," I said as I slumped onto a stool, lit a smoke. "And who''re you supposed to be?"


    "Who? Me?¡± beardman asked like I''d offended him. I took a drag, nodded. "Sam. Samuel."


    The girls were laughing loudly, hunched over the laptop on the far side of the living room. This was the last thing I wanted, being stuck in my own abode with an absolute fart. No means of escape if I wanted to keep a good footing with Nan, no way out but headfirst pounding through it. Reluctantly, I asked the first thing I could think of.


    "And whadya''do Samuel-Sam?"


    ¡°I¡¯m a writer, if you¡¯re wondering what moves me. A poet. And I work with those two.¡±


    "Aha, a fellow samatarian spreading the gospel. Do you enjoy it?"


    "It''s Samaritan. No, I don''t. But you meet a lot of weird people. Good material."


    ¡°Speaking of work!¡± Nan proclaimed, probably sensing where my mood was heading. ¡°You cannot believe what happened today Max. You absolutely cannot, in your wildest dreams, guess what happened.¡±


    Eve sat in full lotus on the couch, looking directly at me with a mischievous smile, streaks of sunlight painted across her face through the blinds. I didn¡¯t want this. I wanted quiet time, to prepare for the blessings of tomorrow. A neat little package wrapped in a bow-tie to lighten up the world and quell the monotone that was becoming my life of the living. A Teddy to prop up the drudgery, paint a funny face on it. A month went by too fast. Something had to start happening. Sam stood up for no apparent reason, looking resentful, like he knew he was a pawn in someone else¡¯s game.


    ¡°You¡¯ve already set me up for a loss. Spill the beans.¡±


    ¡°Ok. We got fired¡­¡± Nan and Eve looked proud, like the medals were on their way and we¡¯d just have to sit tight until the ceremony kicked off. ¡°And before you say anything about money¡ªwe got fired with full pay for three months.¡±


    ¡°What in the actual fuck? Is this true?¡± I for some reason asked Sam.


    ¡°It is. Or so they claim.¡±


    ¡°Well la-di-da. Why you have to go and do that for Sam?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s got nothing to do with it,¡± Nan said, this time with a somewhat scornful gaze like ¡®be nice¡¯ or something. ¡°So we got all this Amnesty gear, and Eve saw that the jackets said Made in China, right? This was last week. And we brought it up with the regional manager, simply asking if they had checked the sourcing, and if the workers were under, you know, fair conditions. Like¡­ Unions, fair wages. Anyway. Miguel and Ava, the other teamleaders, were all like ¡®of course it¡¯s fairtrade, you know who you¡¯re working for right?¡¯


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Like sheep,¡± Sam filled in. ¡°Dumb fucking sheep.¡±


    ¡°We have a heated discussion over it, about what the implications would be if the jackets weren¡¯t fairtrade, and what we¡¯re actually contributing to. And this is so fucked up¡­¡±


    ¡°So fucked up,¡± Eve echoed.


    ¡°Both of them called in sick the next day, and get this... They haven¡¯t been back to work since. Which is weird right? Anyway. Today we both got called up to the manager. She starts by outlining the Amnesty workplace policy, reading paragraphs and shit. Bottomline was that Miguel and Ava ¡®are afraid to go to work due to the hostile environment created by Nan and Eve¡¯.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re both in their forties! Total weasels ¡®trembling in fear¡¯ because two girls said mean things to them. Which we didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°So they put us both on paid leave, effective immediately.¡±


    ¡°How fucked up is that?¡±


    ¡°Well what did she say about the jackets?¡± I asked. I couldn¡¯t make my mind up, if I should be roused or not. If this was really the best way to spend my monthly two euro donation. And then it struck me that Nan hadn¡¯t said a word about it prior.


    ¡°Not a single word. We pressed her for it but she totally dodged. Like a politician,¡± Eve said. ¡°I think we should go to the press.¡±


    ¡°And you Sammy? Don¡¯t you share the ladies¡¯ conviction?¡±


    "Me?" he said, eloping from his cool and casual lean to a seat on the couch next to Eve. "The world is corrupt. Everywhere you look it''s corrupt and lopsided. Even the so called ''good ones'' can''t abstain from shortcuts, nepotism, corruption. Vileness wherever one looks."


    "It''s hopeless," Eve responded, smiling with what could accurately be described as awe. Couldn¡¯t it?


    Silence manifested. A haze or introspect journey the culprit. Morrissey hummed along on a new tune, barely audible, and my cigarette neared its conclusion. Before it did, I lit another. The thought of going in, sitting down in a circle for some snug assurance ritual with the poet gave me some proper shit vibes. And that''s when he jolted to life, closed eyes. Oh god, I thought and stared down at a seagull hopping along the lawn.


    "Beset on all sides; greed of kin; halberds and spears; a knave in sin; barbarous beast; devoid of plight; immune to their rust; untamed is life; the sutra his gun; in the dead of night, where nothing is won.¡±


    His hand bobbed up and down, palm stretched upward, like a rapper on sedatives, and all the while Nan and Eve were entranced by the apostle delivering his sermon.


    ¡°Wow!¡± Nan proclaimed, and it sounded genuine. No joke. ¡°Where¡¯s that from?¡±


    ¡°Nowhere. I just made it up.¡±


    ¡°You should totally write that down!¡± Eve added. ¡°It felt so real and powerful. Like¡­ forgiving and furious at the same time.¡±


    ¡°True art is ephemeral. It lives and dies in the moment, ashes of its funeral pyre a smudge on the listener¡¯s soul. This one won¡¯t go into the books.¡±


    As if they¡¯d orchestrated and rehearsed this little performance, their eyes all turned to me. I couldn¡¯t believe it. They actually wanted me to say something. I wasn¡¯t up for it. Theatrically, I took a long drag and exhaled into the dawning night.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard poetry recited aloud before,¡± I said.


    ¡°Max doesn¡¯t read poetry,¡± Nan quickly noted in an indecipherable tone, something between apologetic and teasing. She was either on a rescue op or tossing me under the steam roller.


    ¡°Poetry is like wine. With age and indulgence, you uncover its hidden flavors, its mysticism. A poem holds a million truths. The same line can make you weap, clench your fists with rage, cry out in joy, or spark an arousal the likes of which you¡¯ve never seen¡ªthe words reflecting on the inner workings of your now ¨C its experiences, lusts, passions ¨C like pictures on a mirror, shaping them, charging them with the contents of the here and now. That is why poetry is the undying artform. Humans will always absorb from poetry, so long as we yearn to live.¡±


    He leaned back, got comfortable. I wanted to ask him old he was but the games were losing their initial little charm. I¡¯d pin him around 30. The glow of my ciggie hovered over the filter. I had to decide on an outcome. Their chats went on, mingling with laughter a few stories below, scent of meat searing. The night promised a moonless void, which is the only thing I asked for. Not the social acrobatics unfolding seven arms-lengths away. Tomorrow, Teddy would enter the lobby of the Yukahama Phone Factory, beginning his life in bondage side-by-side with me and nobody else that mattered. I wanted to turn and tell them, a natural inclination to celebrate, but I didn¡¯t. Instead I lit another fag, flicking any given fucks of mannerisms with the butt sailing to meet its new life as a has-been on the streets of MCity. Lighting the third one was the effective renunciation of feigned sociability for the evening. I could feel Nan¡¯s icy contempt for my failure to play the part of jovial whatever but it was all too much. A marriage of two thoughts became too much of a burden. Nan being free from her toils, free to do whatever the fuck she wanted, and me being uplifted to the hidden tier of Todo International, granted through the secret handshake by the CEO himself during a meeting taken place just two hours ago. I wanted to tell everybody. The entire world. That they were onto us. Management knew that Benny and I were balancing on smooth rhetorics to catapult ourselves ahead of the competition. And they just nodded. Winked. Keep up the good work buddy, I¡¯ve been listening to your calls, and he wasn¡¯t talking about my fine verbal motor skills. Not in any morally permissible sense. We both sat there in his office, me and Benny, and he gave us the stamp of approval. You can lie as much as you want, as long as you don¡¯t lie, and we both knew exactly what it meant. It wasn¡¯t our fault that people were morons, right? If Henry the Sovereign of Constantinople asks me if he¡¯ll have wireless reception in his basement, through two layers of concrete walls, from a Soviet era router, and I say that it¡¯s technically possible. That¡¯s not a lie. Is it? Because Henry, with his divine wisdom and billion subjugates, was still on the line. In the call. Talking about IPTV over ADSL when he¡¯s got a broadband that barely snails across the legal divider between a Telecom Provider doing its godgiven purpose, to provide, and the other end; fraudulent activity. He¡¯s the one talking to me like he¡¯s in charge, so I have to believe him. Right? I have to believe that he¡¯s willingly buying something that will never give him joy, signing on for two years of joyless, lagging TV, a comatose internet connection, and countless hours waiting in line to hear that he just gotta restart his modem and all his troubles be gone. Cus¡¯ he¡¯s a fucking masochist and each to his own kink. I mean, Todo themselves hired people like me to sell that shit because there was a feasible chance that it would work. Right?


    I used the opportunity provided by the meeting to smuggle Teddy past Cortez, and one phone call, two angry eyeballs, a not-too-content Teddy, and it was done. We were golden. Everything was too easy. We¡¯d reached god level. Out of all the people in all the shitty replicas of our office over all the country, nobody was moving paper like me and Benny. And I¡¯d reached the junction like, what¡¯s the fucking point? Teddy would be the point. I knew that Teddy could provide a valid reason to stay on. A knife¡¯s edge to scratch the itch tearing at me from inside.


    ¡°You want in on this, Max?¡±


    Eve was waving a joint like it was a fresh polaroid. The other two laughing somewhere in another realm. Probably the kitchen. I considered asking her about Teddy, but it felt like trespassing.


    ¡°Nah. I¡¯m going to bed.¡±

 k13 – wet

    Teddy¡¯s first day on the job was as uneventful as any. They¡¯d squeezed him in with the weekly batch, trailing two days behind the rest of em¡¯. In the spectrum of beginners it¡¯s a negligible deficit. He kept his head down like a good and proper boyo, nodded along when our newly appointed Cleric of Capitalism, Eric, delivered the gospel. When I worked my previous stint at Yukuhama Telecom Surpreme Ltd. wee little Eric was a floorman, his performance outshone by the girth of his tummeh. He had a funny shape about him, like a perfectly geometrical sphere propped up on two stilts. My first move when Teddy got clocked into the production line was to haggle for us to sit next to each other, and naturally, given my position within the company, on nod n¡¯ greet terms with CEO Williams, I thought it was a sealed deal. A mere formality. Yet Fadhi, resolutely, declined. That¡¯s Eric¡¯s boy, I got no say innit. No special treatment. And I would¡¯ve probably swallowed it as such if he didn¡¯t add something along the line of policy, can¡¯t risk the numbers going down. Like I¡¯d start declining if I was actually enjoying my time. And then there was the other thing. Me and Benny were set up like royalty, having pulled away massively in the competition, like Barcelona and Real Madrid, rest of the lot only in there to pad the league. Our brothers and sisters on the floor loathed us. Not outright, not a cheeky fuck you in the hallway, spit on the ground. But the air had changed.


    Sometimes I¡¯d come back from a break to find that my notes had been shuffled. My calls were frequently invaded by low clicking noises, indicating that someone had tuned in. People were desperate to keep their jobs¡ªI got that part. Copy profit and get profitable. Todo had arranged it so that the first thing you saw when you walked through the doors was me and Benny. Right next to the coffee machine, the fruit basket, the loo, the works! Every time there was a meeting they had to walk past us. It was a simple trick, a lowly one that didn¡¯t seem to impact the numbers one bit. Now and then we¡¯d join in on the meetings for giggles. When shit was really bad Fadhi or Cortez would force us both in there. They played one of our calls for all to hear, and we¡¯d get to go through it bit by bit, dissecting the stampede to victory. But they weren¡¯t morons about it. They only picked the proper clean calls.


    The week sped along with little to no interactions. Lunch with Teddy and the halfwits he¡¯d befriended, cigarettes with Teddy and the Gang, smirks for Teddy way over in the corner when I paraded up to the whiteboard to register my sales. Ali got fired for harassing the customers. Another one lost on the thin blue line. Management thought they¡¯d done him in ¨C that they came out on top. But Ali being Ali, he casually strolled in the next day with a suited up dork who apparently was a union lawyer. So they sat down to negotiate the terms of Ali¡¯s termination, and mutually agreed upon a three month notice period. However, the silver lining of the deal was that Todo International had to pay his hourly wage when he went off on job interviews, including his expenses for transport. How the hell he managed to pull that off, I¡¯ll never know. Shortly after they concluded the meeting, he darted off in a taxi for two hours, came back, then went off in another after lunch. It became his daily routine.


    Come Thursday I¡¯d called it early, leaning steady on a neat little row of lines up on the whiteboard. When I¡¯d drawn the last one I went over to Teddy who spun circles in his chair, apparently between calls.


    ¡°An hour til¡¯ closing and here he is, spinning away. They¡¯re getting every dime¡¯s worth investing in you I tell ya,¡± I said, planting myself on his desk.


    ¡°I dunno how you stand it Max. I really don¡¯t. It¡¯s literal torture.¡±


    ¡°You just gotta zone out miboy. Read the script, let yer yap do all the work. Thinking is the ticket to fatigue, and you wanna atleast cash out a month¡¯s worth of hours before getting there.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? And why would I wanna do that?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s probably a good answer for that. Are they treatin¡¯ you alright? Can I get you anything? A shiatsu?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way I¡¯m lasting a month in this¡ªHi this is Theodore calling I hope I¡¯m not disturbing¡­¡±


    ¡°You fucked it,¡± I said, shook my head.


    Looking out over the landscape of cubicles and dividers, a surr of numb voices intermingled to form a chorus as bleak as static noise. Way over by the entrance Benny got up, clocking out early yet again, searched for me. I waved at him. He waved back, signaled for smokes. I shook my head like no-go, kissed my lips with index and middle cocked like a gun, fired away over the maelstrom. Every pair of eyes revealed just how empty their owners were. On other jobs you jump a mile come weekend. Here you start running the numbers, pushing digits into the machine. All throughout the weekend you¡¯re waiting for the processors to churn your inputs, sketching up the imaginary slip of paper declaring your future at the company¡ªyour future in life. Some of my colleagues had spouses, children, mortgages. Most didn¡¯t. Most were young shits like Teddy and I, scraping up for dope-money and kebaps.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Well you have a good one! In the middle of dinner," Teddy said, turning to me. "Who the hell eats now?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask that man.¡±


    ¡°Ask what?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re intruding. Of-fucking-course you¡¯re intruding. That¡¯s the whole point. Listen, next week you¡¯ll sit in with me, take notes, speed-run this silly little nub gauntlet. I¡¯ll arrange it boyo, and then you¡¯ll start pandering in no time.¡±


    As something kicked my leg and said Hi, you¡¯re Max right, Teddy caught another one. The girl took her headphones off. Definitely no mortgage, probably a dropout. ¡°Can I sit in too?¡±


    ¡°Well shit, if it was up to me you could all sit in. One big rat¡¯s nest with cables criss-crossing all over the place, calling as one for the greater good.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. Maybe, I guess.¡±


    ¡°Cool!¡± And off she went, back on the line. Newcomers ruled this part of the office, as far from all the amenities as possible, furthest travel distance to everything. It was the bottom of the horizontal pyramid. Sharply dressed youngins swung like a pendulum between nervous excitement and absolute dread. Like they''d realized you had to belong to a different subspecies of human to pull off a sale, that someone had made grave mistakes putting them on the payroll. It was a real drag on morale.


    ¡°... You don¡¯t have us as a provider? Are you sure? My file here says that you do.¡±


    ¡°Hang up Teddy.¡±


    ¡°What? No, I¡¯m not talking to you. It was my colleague, please hold. What do you want Max?¡±


    ¡°Hang up.¡±


    ¡°Ehm, there seems to be some technical problems. I¡¯ll send someone!¡±


    Eric, Teddy¡¯s team leader, waddled out from the shitter looking real sweaty. Our eyes met, and he was noticably flustered. Like the worst thing imaginable had taken place in his squatting absence. I ignored.


    ¡°Don¡¯t turn around now Teddy. Eric¡¯s coming over and he doesn¡¯t look too content.¡±


    ¡°Go figure. He¡¯s been shitting for half an hour.¡±


    ¡°Geesh.¡±


    ¡°I gotta get started again or he¡¯ll be pissed. Real hot-headed fucker. Fired a girl on the spot yesterday, before she even logged in. I¡¯ll see you tomorrow?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re off tomorrow Freddy.¡±


    ¡°We are?¡±


    ¡°Friday¡¯s off.¡±


    ¡°Nobody told me. You wanna do something?¡±


    ¡°No can do. Nan¡¯s dibsed the entire weekend.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Well, wait until I get off? Grab some smokes on the way home?¡±


    I nodded and started through the maze of padded dividers, chairs on wheels and legs of occupants, heading for my own corner of the universe to read. Eric was rapidly on the approach, taking skippy little steps as fast as his dimensions allowed. When we crossed somewhere in the middle of the officescape, he panted, stains of sweat visible through the same niveau of cheap shirt Cortez wore. The longer I looked the more they seemed to be the same person, parts of the same entity. It felt eerily odd.


    ¡°What¡­ were you talking to them about?¡± he asked with much difficulty.


    ¡°I dunno Stasi, I forgot zhe recorder. Are you okay there? Need a timeout?¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡­ you. Don¡¯t come near my people. Got it? They¡¯re mine.¡±


    ¡°What in the actual fuck Eric? You know, only mediocre sellers get promoted to team leaders. Expendable people, yeah? Don¡¯t let it get to you.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re mine,¡± he repeated, leaning on an empty desk. ¡°You think you¡¯re hot shit? Well I know too Max. I know all about your little deal. Don¡¯t come near my people. There¡¯s nothing in the world that you should teach them.¡±


    ¡°Come on,¡± I said, eyes rolling. ¡°Put Teddy next to me on Monday. I¡¯ll make him a star in a week.¡± I glanced over at the whiteboard, and then back at Eric. ¡°Not a single sale this week huh? Let a brother help out. Land some numbers. Bossman will think it was all you.¡±


    ¡°Are you thick?¡±


    ¡°No? Do you need a doughnut? Is your blood sugar low?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re disallowed,¡± he said, then leaning his perspiring face towards me, whispering, turning more than one curious head around. ¡°They¡¯re not allowed to listen in. Not a single syllable will be learned from you. When this ship is on the right path again, they¡¯ll sack you. You fucking disgust me.¡±


    A thin smirk cut across the puff in his face, cheeks squeezed together under eyebrows tensed to look like some comic book caricature of a villain sumo wrestler. Before I could say anything, he waddled on, yelling some incomprehensible mess into the static void.

 k14 – rois

    A sort of humming vibration seared through my flesh, channeled via the well-kept nails sailing across my back on predetermined tracks, forcing involuntary shudders when she hit the right spots. Vocal control had surrendered to the usurpers of Pharmaceutica long ago, conquest aided by Nan straddled atop my back, pulling out guttural groans and moans from my insides on strings invisible. Her silhouette flickered across the walls, dancing with the candle lights like a serpent for its fiddler. The hairs on my back, butt and legs were all on edge despite the suffocating night-heat soaring in through a window wide open. Opiate chills coursing through veins, blood ebbing and flowing, guided by Nan''s distant purring.


    ¡°I could live in this moment forever,¡± I slurred, sinking deeper into the pillow.


    ¡°It gets better.¡±


    She ran her breasts across my back, erect nipples grazing like sandpaper. A beckoning, but I couldn¡¯t. I was a thousand pounds light, tethered by phantasmal bonds, disconnected from nerves. As I slurped up drool from my cheek, she collapsed on top of me.


    ¡°I want to be inside you but I don¡¯t know which side is up,¡± she murmured, giggling at the unwinnable conflict or something else entirely.


    ¡°Nan. My dear. My loovliest of lovvs. Lowies. Lovellas.¡±


    ¡°Are there others? Your body feels like a swamp. I¡¯m stukk.¡±


    "There could be none. Ooooh, this feels like it used to do, back in time. Naked days. Day-days. Bay-bays. So simple, so gutwrenchingly simple. A lifetime ago."


    "I''m here," she whispered all godly. "I never left."


    "I think we went overboard. My body won''t obey. I wanna run my hands all over you but I''ve lost my arms."


    She sighed the content sigh of an opiate dreamer, slipping deeper down the hole. This was okay. Everything felt more than okay. Breathing in tandem, we floated on the waves of an open ocean, no landmarks in sight, nothing to reel us in from the lost cause of making sense. There was nowhere in the world that would accept us in this state. No place where we belonged.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay Max. Tell me something you¡¯ve never told me before.¡±


    ¡°Like what? I¡¯ve told you everything.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the sweetest lie. You can say anything in the world. It doesn¡¯t have to be true.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m jealous of you, that you got sacked like you did. I feel like I¡¯m trapped in that office and that they¡¯re using me up like a pawn to fuel their greed, that they¡¯re tapping into my life-force, siphoning out my will to¡­ anything really. It¡¯s like, you have all these people there and they think that this is it. Now we¡¯re finally living a life free from adolescence, teetering with independence and growth and we¡¯re gonna do things god damnit. We¡¯re gonna be somebody. But that place sucks all joy out of you. And there I am, in the middle of it. Thinking that I¡¯m doing all these grand things, racking up accomplishments that mean something when all I¡¯ve done is stock the halls of someone else''s bank account. It¡¯s like¡­¡±


    ¡°Like what? I¡¯m listening. Your voice is just¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve always thought that I¡¯d be someone other than this person sitting there making these calls, hello? Yes? Hello? Making an effort to impress people by my ability to push fucking cash. All day I¡¯m surrounded by these drones right, these hypnotized fucking drones, and I¡¯m starting to see it. I¡¯m one of them. I¡¯m not wonderboy. I sit in the same chair, rabbling the same nonsense, sucking the same cock as everyone else. Before, like when we were living in Pisstown, I can honestly say that life was good. But in comes this blue fucker, makes it my purpose to aspire for breadwinning. This ain¡¯t the first time you know. When we met, and I was pushing dope? I¡¯d just sit and count pennies, and inventory, pennies and inventory. Now I count lines on a whiteboard, count hours on a clock. I¡¯ve been possessed by some nitwit who wants all the pennies, all the money. And he¡¯s such a fucking drag.¡±


    ¡°Baby you should just quit.¡±


    ¡°Oh god have mercy, what the hell did I just say? I literally can¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Everything is okay.¡±


    She pulled the cover over us, locked her arms around my shoulders and we drifted away on silent murmurs of breath, occasionally reminded by seagull horror of the city moving its bricks without us. Fade to black. Scene.


    The familiar tingle of a brain passing through a mangle, accumulating strength to register the basics of where-what-when, jolted me awake. Dripping of sweat, I kicked off the covers, lifesigns spreading into Nan¡ªfirst as a low rumbling, and then a hand fishing for quilts and protection. She slid across my body on our shared coating of sweat, shivered, and hurled into a ball, kneeing my thigh, coming to a halt in my armpit.


    ¡°Babe we dozed off again,¡± I said in an attempt for nothing, adjustning, enveloping myself in divine comfort.


    ¡°Mmh¡­ I was¡­ Dreaming. Fuck!¡± With beastly determination she came to life, jumping over me as if zhe Germans are coming, took a couple of wobbling steps towards the hallway, hands stretched out like feelers, before collapsing. ¡°Fuck! Max, do something! No! This isn''t happening!"


    ¡°What? Nothing has happened, you dreamt it. Come back to beeeed, it¡¯s warm and fuzzy and I love you and I¡¯m not prepped for spazzing right now,¡± I beckoned all foggy.


    ¡°No, we won''t sort it out tomorrow. This isn¡¯t a tomorrow problem,¡± she said. I turned over to look at her, face in palms, shaking her head. ¡°Don¡¯t you get it? I can¡¯t be doing this no more. My head, it¡¯s done. This was supposed to be the last night and then we were going straight.¡±


    Silence fell upon us. The sort of silence that is a dark trench littered with corpses and mines, pitfalls and grime. Trying to find my existential bearings, I sat upright, leaned against the wall, watched Nan''s lungs heave her puddled body up and down.


    ¡°So, like,¡± I ventured but it was too much to process, to many variables to account for. ¡°Why haven¡¯t you said something?¡±


    ¡°Cus¡¯ you wouldn¡¯t be onboard,¡± she said reluctantly. ¡°You¡¯d talk me out of it and convince me that it¡¯s a bad idea. Like last time, you think the world loves us when were fucked up.¡±


    ¡°Ok, first of all I didn¡¯t talk nobody out of nothing.¡±


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°See, you¡¯re getting defensive! This isn¡¯t gonna work.¡±


    ¡°Geesh, I don¡¯t know Nan. Feels weird that¡¯s all, coming out of nowhere into this.¡±


    I took a deep breath, sighed, shook my head, noticed I was shaking it, stopped and tried to focus on the topic.


    ¡°I mean,¡± I continued, treading carefully. ¡°How straight are we talking here? Full mormon?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she sobbed.


    ¡°White robes, yoga? Full hindu, capri sonne absolu-santem?¡± She laughed, and I couldn¡¯t tell if it was a breakdown laugh or a good laugh, so I continued. ¡°Well shit, I¡¯m in. Sobriety is a high too I suppose, how else can all those straight edgers stand it? But we¡¯re not gonna stop boozing right? And  the weed? That¡¯s hardly a drug if we¡¯re being sensible here.¡±


    "I don''t know Max. I don''t know what I''m doing. These mornings, the burnout¡­ I can¡¯t go through another one. I just can¡¯t. But I thought, like if we do one last night. Then we¡¯re clean. One night all in, that¡¯ll feel so utterly horrible tomorrow that I¡¯ll want to die, but perfect now. But you¡¯ll have to be there for me when it dips.¡±


    ¡°Come here,¡± I said, pouted, extended my arms. ¡°I wanna hold you. Why didn¡¯t you say something earlier?¡±


    ¡°No, not yet. I¡¯m afraid Max.¡±


    "We can do it. I promise, I''m onboard. Okay? You want out, that''s cool. Okay?"


    "That¡¯s not like, what I¡¯m afraid of. I know that we can do it, there¡¯s not an option for me. I''m afraid that we''ll wake up and realize that we''re different people than we thought we were. You only love me when I''m fucked up and you''re fucked up and we do all this shit. But take that away, and then what?"


    "That''s insane."


    I began sliding down from bed, one rubbery inch at a time, and when I hit the floor she jolted, twitched up, streaks of mascara down her cheeks, eyes one big black mess.


    "I¡¯m not insane. I don''t wanna, you know, fuck this up or get lost. You and me. But this is the last time, okay? And if you want this. Like if you want all of us, I want you to treat it like we''re going to die tomorrow."


    I stopped, scoffed, rubbed my eyes. ¡°What?¡±


    "I''m fucking serious,¡± she growled. ¡°You''ll forget all about this conversation, about quitting tomorrow, and love me like this is the last time you¡¯ll ever see me."


    "Sure babe," I grinned. Her eyes were pure fire, face wild like some primordial edition. No quarter. No room for bargains. We were going raw. She wasn¡¯t fucking around. Two years of madness, of unconditional loving and doping and capsulated living, behind the walls of a transparent cocoon for the world to see but not touch. This would rip it apart, no doubt, letting the air of reality muddle the purity of us. But I couldn¡¯t tell her that, that she was probably right. It terrified me. Such a vast subject, to envision a world so far from the status quo that it might as well have been a different planet. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°You need to make a vow.¡±


    ¡°A what?¡±


    ¡°Kiss it.¡± She stood up, walked towards me all seductive, grabbed my hair and pulled it back. ¡°Kiss your queen.¡±


    Our eyes locked and the lips of her cunt parted as she slowly pushed her hips forward. This was it. A death sentence. The kiss of death, layers upon layers of nestled death. So I kissed it, let the hill of coins conquer me. She was pleased, melting, until some thought struck her face like a bolt of lightning and she pushed me to the floor.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡±


    And with those words she left me alone in a film of dried sweat with nothing to do but contemplate the feels of a body numb and hypervigilant at the same time. The cold floor mended with my spine, disregarding the ambient music playing low-key somewhere on the aether, laughters of a gathering at the neighbors. When I closed my eyes I could see her rummaging around the kitchen, opening cabinets, closing others, unwrapping wrapped goods, re-wrapping them? I drifted on the remnants of the synthetic opiate waves to images of a toppled cocoon with a creature buried underneath the capsized ectoplasmic walls. As I walked closer it moved with a popping noise, frantic like a frightened animal caught in a bear trap. I couldn¡¯t see who it was, which one of us got left behind. Footsteps approached from out of sight, out of mind. I could feel her presence, watching and scheming. Something cold pressed against my lips. I took a bite, mouth exploding with succulent acidity.


    ¡°Chocolate strawberry?¡±


    ¡°Open your eyes.¡±


    She held two fizzing flute glasses filled to the brim with a pinkish liquid, handed one of them to me and crashed down cross-legged opposite without spilling a drop. With eyes and face smiling, she took out a piece of paper and began.


    ¡°Max. Before I met you I thought I knew everything about life and love. I thought that the universe rested in the palm of my hand, that I was in control.¡±


    ¡°Baby I¡­¡±


    ¡°Shush! And then you came, like a weird creature without the slightest warning, and no matter how hard I tried to stay away, to resist the force of bright darkness beckoning for me¡ªI didn¡¯t stand a chance. You¡¯ve taken me to the depths of my soul, opened up vaults I didn¡¯t knew existed. It was destined for us since birth, to see unity in its pure form. We¡¯ve been one, shared our most intimate selves, and I want you to know this now more than ever.¡±


    Her face vibrated from the opioid static reminding me that in the here and now, all was well. A face clad in an aura radiating from a cauldron of totality, brewing beneath the surface of our external being. This had always been us, since I rode up on my moped to bum a smoke off Teddy¡¯s sister, some six or seven years ago, when Nan in her kiddie galore stood in the background, timid and shy. The thoughts of tomorrow, of next week, next month, a hundred years from now, pecked for attention. As I looked her in the eyes, I teared up, as she did.


    ¡°I¡¯ll die before I lose you,¡± I said and leaned towards her.


    ¡°A toast!¡± she proclaimed, deflecting me. ¡°Gulp it all down. We¡¯re in for a ride, and wherever it takes us I need you to know this. You are my everything. My life. My love. I feel weak when I¡¯m not around you. Burning when I am. Sk?l!¡±


    Without a word, I clinked her glass, echoes of crystal ringing through the air, swept the sweet sweet bubbles, combating the want to surrender mid-way to the carbon tearing through my esophagus. We were lost. None of us knew it at the time, that we¡¯d go spinning off the earth, that we¡¯d fuck ourselves into vapors and communicate truths on a nether plane. The last drop of Asta Martini rolled solemnly to join it''s brothers and sisters below, effectively sealing our imminent fate. It felt ominous, grand, when she leapt at my throat like a frothing beast, when we fucked ourselves past the acrid borderlands of waiting, waking up in dense jungles on an alien planet, where sight and touch couldn''t be trusted, where we had nothing but our fundamental wits and each other to guide us forth.


    She''d placed a custom order with the Chemist from Berlin; something called hovedbanger, a decoction nobody in the world had ever experienced before, and even he didn''t know where it would take us. It had the clinical precision of an acid trip, boosted confidence of a coke high, crystal clarity of meth and devious intention of psilocybin. Anchored in the middle of the torrent, love in its purest form. An endorphin dispensary pumping out rivers of affection each heartbeat, running mad on a million watts with no controlling agent left alive to initiate the emergency stop protocol. All sense had perished to ash in the feverish torrent flushing out all that had been to make room for new beginnings. We were climbing on the walls, into each other, merging, dissolving and rearranging ourselves a thousand times over. The hallucinations were otherworldly. Nan towering over me as I hid under shrubbery, taking the shape of a farmhand confronted by the mistress of the mansion for mishandling the dairy cows, readying up for a well-deserved spanking. Every orifice filled by fingers and cocks and tongues and toes. At one point she had her entire hand in my anus and I felt like I would disappear forever. At another junction she took the form of a horned succubus, tits bobbing over the surface of the blood-filled tub, moaning as I pleased her with my feet, gnawing on her toe-nails. I was a baron, a carpenter, an orphan and a soldier, waiting to storm the line of zigzagging machine gun fire to take a bunker from an enemy I''d never heard off. This went on for a full 24 hours, and as we crashed I held her close, stroked her tangled hair. This was surely the last time.