Delusion Part I
All disclaimers apply:
Describing Emma:
Aaaannnnnt Aaaaaaaaannnnt Aaaaaaaannnnnnnt, wow, could there have ever been a more hideous noise invented other than the sound of an alarm clock.
I should warn you at this junction that I am a bit random and honestly, a bit pompous as well. I can't believe it's already seven thirty. I have to get to school on time today, if I get another tardy this quarter my ass is going to spend some quality time in Saturday school.
More importantly, I have to hurry up and shower or I won't be able to meet up with Emma and roll up a joint of that brown frown that she got from her stepmom, Carol. Wow, what a dumb fucking name. Carol; why would you ever name your fucking kid Carol, well anyways I don't care what her name is I just hope that bitch doesn't short us just because her brother, Ralphie, doesn't grow any more. That stupid cunt is out of her gourde. Ok well that's a bit harsh but what can you say about someone who throws houseplants away in the trashcan. I can't fucking stand that level of compartmentalized, separated from reality, nihilism.
Well, anyways, back to Emma, we have to get together this morning and I've got to roll a joint. I don't know what Emma would do if I didn't roll up her ganja. Well strike that, I do know what she would do. She would go ahead, get some foil, and would proceed to roll up a pipe, then leave it on my kitchen counter like an idiot and get me in a lot of fucking trouble.
Damn it, Emma needs to call me or just come over its not like my rents are home, plus she's been a morning person ever since she took up yoga. The meth heads won't know what to do now that Emma stretches into warrior pose in front of lot 21 at the Indian Spring's trailer park. She's always letting her freak flag fly. Emma is the kind of girl that has to wear tie-dye, listen to Bob Marley and wear shitty homemade hemp necklaces because she can't buy one at the mall.
However, she somehow has enough money to smoke half an ounce every three days. She's gotta be hookin' on the side, just joking. I mean damn, she would be more than hot enough to strip or hook, she looks amazing. Well strike that, now that I think about it, anyone is hot enough to hook or strip, especially at Jolly's, the local strip club. I think they have to catch the crabs in a net at Jolly's. One upside though to Jolly's, it was voted the best place to score coke and pull a rape job in Yamhill county, if that's your cup of tea, and yeah that is the county's name, Yamhill. I wish I was making that part up.
It amazes me that Emma is still surprised when she gets called down to the office under suspicion of drug use, I mean tone it down cunt. She has reddish blonde hair in dreds, has a jail style tattoo (that means a tattoo applied with a ballpoint pen and lighter) of a marijuana leaf on her left hand and loves to go braless even though she has got a pair of C's and constantly has THO! Come on here, I'm trying to pass through these halls unnoticed; it's only the end of our freshmen year. If we want to sow our wild oats throughout our High School days we don't want to get stifled by the man before we hit the ground running.
Emma is constantly getting hit on by douche bags named brad or josh or zak, it's so sad, if they only knew that she isn't into the kind of guy that uses the term muscle milk or the word retarded or gay as a describer for everything they find distasteful. I mean come on, buy a fucking thesaurus.
We live in the "lovely" town of Sheridan. It's the kind of town you spend sixteen years in to get a driver's license to drive the hell out of here and into Portland to actually do something i.e. concert, museum, eating at fine restaurants, you know, not smoking crystal meth behind the dumpster of the local McDonald's. I mean Sheridan has to have the dibs on some activities. Well maybe I am being a little rough on this shithole; it does have a nice forest. Of course it's the site where twelve year old girls learn to give head to their fifteen year old cousins. Stashes of porn, discarded tires, street signs, stolen tricycles, stick forts, dried blood staining sharp rocks, it's the perfect place to dispose of and find a dead body. Okay those last two sentences were a little over the top, it's not that bad but sometimes I get a little theatrical.
Turn on radio:
I have an all pink bathroom, my parents had three boys and had us use an all pink bathroom, straight out of the sixties or shall I say, gay out of the sixties. (I know corny joke right) Make my way to the shitter, I hate morning wood, sigh, think of fatties in tank tops at the community pool, think of fatties in tank tops at the community pool, alright there we go piss and start the shower.
I love to get the shower really hot, I lock the door even though I'm all alone. I don't know why; note the paranoia. Climb in, hey, someone's back to play, no I have to make this short. Sweet, Radiohead on the radio, finally something good, Cal Cagno (the local DJ) was disappointing me with all the Nickleback. I have to listen to music in the shower, dance a little naked jig too, it gets me in a good mood. I don't want to leave this shower, everything is stress free. I feel the heat of the flowing water hit the flow of my energy, or skin, whichever description you like better.
I hate to leave, but getting high might just be enough of an inspiration. Nothing like a wake and bake. I get out of the shower and dry off, then I head to the kitchen, mmmh pop tarts, its May 22nd. I hope it's warm outside, it's foggy. I love the fog, that gray enveloping heavenly aura. A glimmering tinge of sunlight feathers through the thickness of the clouds.
I know it is going to be a good,[day] ah shit its fucking seven fifteen on the oven clock. My fucking alarm clock is busted for good now. It can't keep the time anymore, it just keeps on skipping forward. But this is the biggest leap yet, its half an hour off, at least according to our house's atomic clock, which for me is the oven clock, it always has the right time. I know my parents are way too anal retentive to have the wrong time on their precious oven clock.
Carol's oven clock on the other hand is still blinking twelve. My parents are the opposite of Carol, my mom is a real estate agent in Portland. She is one of those women who is constantly jogging around the neighborhood and eats a salad for every meal. Her biggest fear is getting fat. She resembles an uglier, older Eva Longoria, but that is still a complement, right? She is half Cuban and has dark smoky features, if I had to describe my dad as a celebrity, I would say he looks like a wiry version of that guy who starred in 24, and I think his name is Keifer Sutherland. My dad operates a small construction company.
My family is sort of fucked up. My mom and dad are constantly working. They are workaholics, I think I must be adopted because there is no way I would work more than 40 hours a week. My mom works around ten hours a day and commutes about an hour each way. She is gone from seven to seven every day except Sunday, and the funny thing about it is that she isn't that good of a real estate agent, just an average real estate agent. My dad leaves around the same time, sometimes earlier but comes home by five o'clock usually. Him and my brother, Mattie, work together; apparently my brother's dreams of a basketball scholarship were a bit far reaching. Although he is as adept at getting DUI's as Charles Barkley.
"Fucking shit," I can't believe it is this early. No wonder Emma hasn't called, I guess I'll have a cigarette, just step out back; at least I am the one killing me. Fuck, I enter the shed and I remind myself not to tell my brother where my cigs are stashed.
Just to let you know, my parents are former bible thumpers. I was forced to go to Sunday school, the regular morning service and evening service along with the Wednesday evening service. Well, at least before the incident, now my parents don't want me to go. I am a lost cause in that department, but I'll tell you about that later.
My oldest brother Kyle, is a premed student at UCLA, I don't see much of him anymore, although we weren't that close because of the age difference. He is six years older than me, as for my other brother, Mattie, he just turned 19. We are pretty close. He can be a fuck up. He loves to borrow money and "borrow" my cigarettes, but he is hilarious and is fairly cool to hang out with. Also, he was best friends with Ralphie,(at least before Ralphie left for cop school) so we use to all chill together.
Mattie has that classic basketball build; he has an athletic, skinny, tall frame and was always popular with the girls. I am a spitting image of Mattie except shorter and a little more muscular; we both have dark hair, dark eyes, and smoldering good looks in general, just kidding about the last part. I don't want to come off as conceded, but we both seem to have to bat girls off with a stick. Of course I'm a lot better at that then him.
Journey to Oscar's:
I guess I better go ahead and trek to Oscar's, I love biking to Oscar's carryout because they will sell me anything. Even I admit there's something fucked up about riding your bike through the drive thru and buying grocery store liquor(less than 50 proof) and cigarettes while fishing out grandma's birthday money from your retro Mario bros Velcro wallet. I bike up to the entrance and spot the Pepsi challenge ad, circa 1985, on the side of the rusty dull green corrugated metal building. Oscar's Carryout is half 7-11 and half ghetto slum shack from Guadalajara Mexico.
"Hey Mattie, how's it going," A guy named Jeff incoherently stumbles toward me. Jeff was my oldest brothers friend, well more of an acquaintance, and he is also every minors' hook up for alcohol and cigarettes. Jeff is definitely not the brightest crayon in the box if you catch my drift. This guy must have had some kind of experimental lobotomy, or maybe he's just a blissful idiot, or maybe just maybe he has some gold tinged euphoria staining his nose.
"Hey Jeff it isn't Mattie, hook me up with a bottle of the colonial club vodka and a pack of Tourneys, {Hey, I know what you're thinking, but I don't fall into money like Emma, I have to buy cheap, believe me I would rather have grey goose and camel lights}
Jeff disappears inside and comes back with my party supplies. "That's gonna be twenty bucks",
"hey fuck off Jeff, you mean ten bucks, I know you pocket that shit"
"Yeah and I know that you couldn't even buy some cigs if I wasn't working,"
I hand him my money, "All right here's fifteen, bitch." I state, just as I grab my tourneys and vodka, and quickly make my getaway by ten speed. I pull onto Elm Street; it strikes me as funny that there isn't one tree, let alone an elm tree on this barren stretch of road. I try to crank my walkman up (yes, a Sony walkman, it's an antique. I don't own an Ipod, I know welcome to the twenty first century) I start to drift and I notice I'm in the middle of the street and before I correct myself, sirens blare behind me and almost make me crash. Fuck, I'm getting pulled over on a bike.
A familiar face appears, "Hey Ralphie, what the fuck you almost killed me,"
"What?, I think you almost killed yourself! Didn't you ever learn how to ride a bike? You might want to try the sidewalk next time, or maybe you'll want to hear unobstructed, you know turn the Justin Bieber off for a couple minutes a day"
"Fuck off Ralphie, I will have you know that I'm listening to the tragically hip. What do you want anyway?"
"Nothing, just patrolling these mean streets" wow, I think he was kind of serious when he said that; maybe he just needs a lesson in sarcasm. "So, you go over to Emma's last night?" asks Ralphie.
"No, and why the fuck would you want to know?" I jokingly reply back, and add, "What are you keeping from me Ralphie?"
"Oh nothing, it's just that Emma's dad didn't come home, and Carol called 911 like a crazy ass bitch, it probably ain't shit," Ralphie stated, with a weird reassurance in his voice.
"Uh yeah, Joe gets drunk and follows home the stankiest tail possible from the pub, better call CNN."
"Yeah I know that, but you know Carol, she gets all pilled out, has a mini freak out and an anxiety attack and all that shit."
"Don't you have to be missing for 48 hours before the police start looking for your corpse" I joke.
"Yeah," Ralphie states while laughing, and then adds "I'm sure Joe will be home tonight, but if I try telling Carol I can't do anything, she'll start calling me every ten minutes, yelling at me, her little pothead brother who joined the police force and can't do a fucking job right and all that shit. I did the easy thing and said I sent out an APB, and all that shit, and I think she bought it."
"Wow you fooled Carol that must have been hard!" I state while laughing. "So what are you harassing me for, do I look like Joe?"
"No you fucking little shit, I just wanted to know why you have a pack of cigarettes and watered down vodka"
"Uh, they're for my mom."
"Yeah right", "Speaking of your mom, a better question for me to ask, is why you are riding your mom's bike."
"Hey," I say accusingly. "I needed a basket for my booze and smokes." I finish, smiling.
Ralphie then asks "So what are you and Emma doing after school?"
"Uh, probably going to my house and getting high and then listening to some music, or maybe going with Todd to the beach and hanging out, he's got a ride now."
"What the hell is he your new boyfriend?" States Ralphie, while he mockingly puckers his lips at me.
"No" I reply, and slap his arm which is resting on the car door, "you know you're the only one for me, you should know by now how much I love douchie-McGees like you."
"So anyways, do you and Emma want me to pick you guys up after school?" asks Ralphie.
I whisper, while hunching and nearing Ralphie's open window and state. "Yeah sure, just make sure you pull around back so no one thinks we're fucking narcs."
"Sweet," states Ralphie while rolling his eyes, "I get off of work at three, I'll swing by and pick you guys up and we'll make it a threesome."
"Oh kinky, a threesome" I say sarcastically.
"Well fuck you, you can find your own way home."
"I'm just kidding Ralphie, pick our asses up, it'll be like good old times, and plus one of my ultimate dreams will come true." I reply, in the most nostalgic manner possible.
"And what the fuck is that?"
"Well, I can finally smoke weed in a pig mobile.",
"Oh fuck you, this is my pig mobile and no one's going to smoke in her" ,
"Yeah right," I state and then pause and add, "hey Ralphie I thought you quit smoking, weren't you scared your daddy, mister police chief was going to have you take a random drug test?"
"No, he won't really do that, he was just freaking me out, and I really don't think you can call him a police chief when there are only two other cops.",
"oh yeah, sure, that's what he wants you to think", I start pedaling away and then I yell, "All right see you around pig fucker."
Ralphie shouts out some inaudible obscenity while peeling out and noticeably makes a little too much commotion for some old bitch watering her garden. (And I mean old bitch in the most endearing manner possible, it's just a way of speech for me). I continue making my way to Emma's house and light my cigarette. I forgot how much I missed hanging out with Ralphie, he graduated from high school played Halo for eight months and then went off to some six week police academy, and has pretty much been up his dad's ass, learning how to harass minorities, give jay walking tickets to old ladies, and fill our jails with nonviolent drug offenders and whatever else they teach cops.
Okay, by now I just may be coming off as an asshole, and I guess I apologize, I know that deep down Ralphie would make a great cop, he doesn't have that power trip attitude, never loses his temper, has always been honest and compassionate, and he is one of those people kids and animals rush up to. I'm just filled with that good ole' American teenage angst, I like to joke around that's all, I'm really not trying to be offensive and I hope that I don't come off like that, oh yeah Ralphie is fucking hot too, he has that whole Norse god thing going on, zero fat, kinda muscular and tall, soft eyes that pull you into him, amazing bone structure and he has abs that seem to form an arrow pointing to his manhood, not to be shallow but I really hope that I'm not coming off as an asshole to him, he's fucking gorgeous.
More to come