I hate when I can't remember whether I've brushed my teeth or not.
He pushed back against the head rest and ground his teeth. A trail of ants spiraled the back of his head. Right in the center of the part that juts out in the back, the part that casts a shadow on the nape of his neck, his head is shaped like a question mark. He shivered as a tingle ran down his spine.
Angie looked over at him from the driver seat, “You got the heebie jeebies or something?”
“Huh, what?” he opened his eyes, looked out the window at the walls along the five freeway. One side bushes, the other side, walls, over head, bridges, it had been off and on the same scenery since they hit the city. “No, not the heebie jeebies. Just got the shivers all of a sudden that’s all.”
He looked around for a bottle of water. They’d stopped at a gas station about twenty miles back, three bottles of water. He counted, one empty bottle, two…three empty bottles, scattered among all the other garbage on floor under his feet. His mouth was dry already. His hands shook, ever so slightly, tremors are what they call ‘em.
He unhooked his seat belt and turned around to see what he could find in the back seat.
“Hey, where’s that bag I thought I’d tossed back here?” it wasn’t there, his backpack.
“Should be under your seat, you never did tell me what’s in it,” He ignored the comment even though he knew she meant it as a question. He leaned all the way over nearly falling over the seat, to reach blindly down to grab the well worn Jordache backpack.
Pulling it around to the front seat he put his seat belt back on and unzipped it, taking careful inventory of the bag:
A pair of black jeans,
Four black t-shirts,
A white wife-beater,
A pair of converse tennis shoes,
Two water bottles,
And a toiletry bag,
The latter he carefully un-zipped without removing it from the backpack, another inventory:
Twelve pills (or fifteen minus the three he’d popped at the gas station)
An ounce of herb (minus a bit he smoked before leaving)
Two grams of meth
Two pipes (black with usage)
And eye drops (a half empty dropper).
He was going to ditch this chick as soon as possible. In the meantime he took out one of the water bottles and put the bag at his feet. He looked over at the Angie girl before opening it. He’d put his thumb out and she’d stopped, he’d gotten in the car high as a kite, looking for excitement, hoping to get picked up by a decent sort of guy that he could take for a ride. She turned out to be a freak, on her way to some kind of spiritual enlightening seminar or something, only going as far as Santa Ana. He didn’t think she’d be down if she knew what kind of trip he was on so he didn’t say anything. But this wouldn’t be a matter of saying or not saying something. He mentally shrugged, and opened the bottle.
The smell of hot vodka wafted up and out of it, filling the car with the sweet pungent smell of …he didn’t know. But it was a wonderful smell to him. He raised the sun warm bottle up to his lips, took a deep breath, and gulped half the bottle down without taking another breath. He took a breath, maybe two, and chugged again ‘til the bottle was gone.
…then he belched…a loud, gross smelling belch. He wiped his eyes as the watered, and grit his teeth again as the line of ants marched faster.
If the smell hadn’t gotten her attention when he’d opened the bottle, the belch, and its smell did. The pungent odor of sun warmed vodka mixed with stomach acid would always be able to get a person’s attention.
She turned to him, “We’re going be pulling over soon, at the...not the next, oh, six more miles, that’s as far as I’ll take ya.”
“Okay,” he dropped the bottle on he floor with the rest, and turned back to the window. Tinted, but not any particular color, all the light bounced off all the other light so that everything was clearly blurry. His head swam standing still and his eye focused and roamed. He wondered if he’d be able to walk when the time came.
But that was the joy of it, overdoing each one at the same time…to see where it took him. He didn’t want to leave this place, he didn’t fuck too much with psychotics, hallucinogens. He wasn’t looking to come up with strange worlds and shit, he wanted to see what was really there, but from a different perspective. He wanted to check out all the different shades of lenses through which one might see the world.
The exit six miles down the highway turned out to be in a real bad part of whatever town they were in. she dropped him and his bag at the light, and kept going straight to get back on the freeway. He watched the car go, then chose a street and walked south.
^^^^that'd be me son...all the important parts in the right places. o.O
Angie looked over at him from the driver seat, “You got the heebie jeebies or something?”
“Huh, what?” he opened his eyes, looked out the window at the walls along the five freeway. One side bushes, the other side, walls, over head, bridges, it had been off and on the same scenery since they hit the city. “No, not the heebie jeebies. Just got the shivers all of a sudden that’s all.”
He looked around for a bottle of water. They’d stopped at a gas station about twenty miles back, three bottles of water. He counted, one empty bottle, two…three empty bottles, scattered among all the other garbage on floor under his feet. His mouth was dry already. His hands shook, ever so slightly, tremors are what they call ‘em.
He unhooked his seat belt and turned around to see what he could find in the back seat.
“Hey, where’s that bag I thought I’d tossed back here?” it wasn’t there, his backpack.
“Should be under your seat, you never did tell me what’s in it,” He ignored the comment even though he knew she meant it as a question. He leaned all the way over nearly falling over the seat, to reach blindly down to grab the well worn Jordache backpack.
Pulling it around to the front seat he put his seat belt back on and unzipped it, taking careful inventory of the bag:
A pair of black jeans,
Four black t-shirts,
A white wife-beater,
A pair of converse tennis shoes,
Two water bottles,
And a toiletry bag,
The latter he carefully un-zipped without removing it from the backpack, another inventory:
Twelve pills (or fifteen minus the three he’d popped at the gas station)
An ounce of herb (minus a bit he smoked before leaving)
Two grams of meth
Two pipes (black with usage)
And eye drops (a half empty dropper).
He was going to ditch this chick as soon as possible. In the meantime he took out one of the water bottles and put the bag at his feet. He looked over at the Angie girl before opening it. He’d put his thumb out and she’d stopped, he’d gotten in the car high as a kite, looking for excitement, hoping to get picked up by a decent sort of guy that he could take for a ride. She turned out to be a freak, on her way to some kind of spiritual enlightening seminar or something, only going as far as Santa Ana. He didn’t think she’d be down if she knew what kind of trip he was on so he didn’t say anything. But this wouldn’t be a matter of saying or not saying something. He mentally shrugged, and opened the bottle.
The smell of hot vodka wafted up and out of it, filling the car with the sweet pungent smell of …he didn’t know. But it was a wonderful smell to him. He raised the sun warm bottle up to his lips, took a deep breath, and gulped half the bottle down without taking another breath. He took a breath, maybe two, and chugged again ‘til the bottle was gone.
…then he belched…a loud, gross smelling belch. He wiped his eyes as the watered, and grit his teeth again as the line of ants marched faster.
If the smell hadn’t gotten her attention when he’d opened the bottle, the belch, and its smell did. The pungent odor of sun warmed vodka mixed with stomach acid would always be able to get a person’s attention.
She turned to him, “We’re going be pulling over soon, at the...not the next, oh, six more miles, that’s as far as I’ll take ya.”
“Okay,” he dropped the bottle on he floor with the rest, and turned back to the window. Tinted, but not any particular color, all the light bounced off all the other light so that everything was clearly blurry. His head swam standing still and his eye focused and roamed. He wondered if he’d be able to walk when the time came.
But that was the joy of it, overdoing each one at the same time…to see where it took him. He didn’t want to leave this place, he didn’t fuck too much with psychotics, hallucinogens. He wasn’t looking to come up with strange worlds and shit, he wanted to see what was really there, but from a different perspective. He wanted to check out all the different shades of lenses through which one might see the world.
The exit six miles down the highway turned out to be in a real bad part of whatever town they were in. she dropped him and his bag at the light, and kept going straight to get back on the freeway. He watched the car go, then chose a street and walked south.
^^^^that'd be me son...all the important parts in the right places. o.O