We’re not the cool kids, not the jocks, not the babes, just
the guys who always fall between the high school cracks. Whatever. We still have dreams of coolness, but
we feel the frustration of a lack of true thrills and excitement in our
lives. We are in our senior year, and
decided we would do a little exploring.
All you hear about at school are drugs and sex. Thanksgiving break would give us some nice
blocks of time to see what the real story is on illicit substances. I decided to just go hardcore and get it over
with, so when we met Ned the Needle in the bathroom, I scored a little heroin,
and Matt bought eight windowpanes of LSD.
We paid him extra, a lot extra, and he agreed to do it right and shoot me
up with the H when I wanted him to. He’s
a fucked up drug dealer, but he’s an honest businessman.
Matt’s family had invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner,
and my parents were OK with that. Just
as his mother called up to his room, telling us to come down and eat, Ned slid
that needle into my vein, then slipped out of Matt’s bedroom window. I was shocked that I so quickly started to
melt. I walked slowly, gingerly, down
the steps and slipped into their living room sofa. I heard Matt sing to his family, saying that
I’d eaten at home, hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, and was just going to
rest while they were eating. His mother
protested, but she let me be. They say
your first experience with heroin is often the best. I say ‘shit yeah’. I grew warm and started to glow, trying to turn
down the intensity before Matt’s family came in to see what was going on. The time from sitting down to collecting
dirty dishes was so short, I almost missed it.
God had reached down and had picked me up, pulling me all the way to Heaven. Between the two rooms was a serving table,
and on it sat a huge homemade cake. It
kept growing bigger. I watched from Heaven as Matt’s little brother went
upstairs to pee, and I heard him come down.
It was weird how he had Matt’s windowpanes in his hand, weird that he
pressed them into the cake like he was decorating it, weird how he carried the
cake in, weird when the noises began. I
don’t think he knew I was there, or watching.
White heroin from Hong Kong, Ned had said. Hong Kong must be the capital of Heaven. I think I said that out loud, because I
laughed at what I said. Hong Kong. The perfect name. Hong, Hong Kong.
The noises. They were
creepy for a second; screams turned into bells.
Beautiful ringing. I slithered
off the sofa onto the floor, one foot still by God; on hands and knees I
thought I’d set my viewer on the dining room, which had grown quiet. I had no idea how much time had passed but
the dark floated in and around the window, wondering if it should enter the
house. Matt’s Mom was on the floor. I crawled up to her, crawled past her shoes,
up to her head. I said, “Happy
Thanksgiving” into her mouth. Her eyes
were open but she wasn’t talking. When I
saw her head, tipped on that angle, with her tongue actually hanging out (nice
tongue Mrs. S!), I recognized the pose, having seen it in many movies. I wanted to look around to mug for the cameras
but forgot to. Instead, I tried to
stifle my smile, to let the video crew see a sweet look of feigned shock on my
face – one they’d surely use. As an
added extra, I kissed her cheek. Her
soft skin filled me. I tried so hard to
give them a look of shock, but I busted up instead. Oh well.
Let God edit it out.
Matt’s father’s arm was hanging off the table. I wouldn’t have known he was up there if it
weren’t for his arm. There was a button
on his shirtsleeve cuff. It reflected
the light. I saw a million reflections
of it. They filled the state. His hand seemed to be covered with a cloud
that shimmered and shape-shifted. It was
the color of mashed potatoes. I imagined
the turkey, still on the table, the boney frame hidden under the small of his
back like a holiday lumbar support. It
must feel soooo good! God bless you,
turkey.
I watched Matt’s little brother’s foot slide on the floor
through the swinging door to the kitchen, so I followed it. I heard a sound, a continuous sound that
seemed to have the flavor of his little brother. It wasn’t a happy song, I felt, but I made it
one. On I crawled, through the door, and
settled into a kitchen corner. The walls
against my back reached up to infinity.
That feels so good! I reached for
Matt’s grandmother’s dress, which was on the floor, along with all of her white
underthings. His brother’s song became
muffled as the door to the oven shut. I
saw his eyes moving past the oven window and thought of how cool it must be in
there for him, and how much his mother loved her huge oven. Grandma’s naked hand on her naked body moved
back and forth between the knobs on the oven, as the weight of her body rested
on her knee, which was pressed against the oven door. The sound of the oven when it lit up reminded
me of so many past holidays. It’s the
sound of God huffing in the smell of baking turkey. Grandma pressed her knees against little
brother’s window, until the song slipped off our channel. I saw her beautiful skin slide onto the top
of the range, where she curled up. The
first time I got to see a girl’s nipples and it was Matt’s grandma’s! I laughed.
Then it almost seemed like Matt’s brother wasn’t loving the warmth of
his little womb, and that changed the smile I was wearing into a body frown,
but not for long. The turkey was just in
there! He must be loving it. I felt
tears on my cheeks, which changed as I saw small flames from one of the burners
licking grandma’s leg. A hand reached
down and handed me a napkin. It was
Matt. He asked me what I thought was
happening. He got down beside me on his
stomach. He licked the floor and kept
asking what was happening. My mind
replayed the scene for him, of his brother adding the windowpanes to the cake
that they all ate. He didn’t seem to be receiving
me at all, and he didn’t seem to see the beauty in any of this. He said he was stuck to the floor, and asked
me to get him a glass. I fell in love
with the word. I said it over and over,
turning it around, and inside out.
Glass. Glass. Ssalg.
I saw one on the counter above us so I reached up and let it float into
his hand. He looked through it at me for
I think awhile, then started tap, tap, tap, tap, tapping its edge on the
floor. He tapped until the glass cracked
and made a beautiful sound. This allowed
his stomach to separate from the floor and he sat in the corner with me,
leaning against my arm. He’s the best
friend I ever had. I watched him, with
his hand up in front of his face, looking at his fingers. I watched him raise the elegant broken edge and
surgically cut across his skin. I
watched a red Christmas ribbon flow out of the cut. He cut a small connecting line, finishing the
letter L. He looked at me and I tried to
give him an all-knowing look and smile, but my head was moving slow. He precisely cut a very nice O and G, and
watched the blood drain, being careful not to smear it. He looked at me with a serious look and said
he had just logged on. I didn’t get it
at the time. Then his arm stretched
across the room and became a nice red curtain for the window. At least that ‘s what he was seeing. I could hear him. I was so appreciative of all the colors and
smells the family shared with me, and the warmth, and the daily love - the best
Thanksgiving I’d ever had.
Matt’s body slipped off mine and hit the corner hard as I
started to crawl back into the dining room, hoping there was some leftover
turkey somewhere. The white meat was
already in my mouth – the best turkey I ever had. It was waiting for me to replace it with the
real thing.
I pulled myself up onto the table. It was much more interesting than I had
imagined. So much food. And then there was Matt’s Dad. I stood on a chair and began to eat the food
that had been calling me.
‘I’m here, cranberry sauce!
You can relax now, I’m here.’ I
shoveled a handful into my mouth, and knew I was kissing my creator.
With all of God’s might, he threw me back into this craphole
planet. My body violently slammed onto
Matt’s Dad’s. Sorry, Matt’s Dad. My mouth filled with a nasty turbo-vinegar
taste, which only lingered for a second.
The explosion of taste became real as I vomited on the table and Matt’s
Dad. Sorry, Matt’s Dad. I never had the
time to watch before, to watch it all evolve in space, to see the patterns in
it, to calculate the trajectories.
Wow. I can’t wait until Christmas,
I thought, as I fell onto the floor and blackness wrapped around me. It was a cold and pale blackness, with a
single sliver that was open just long enough for me to see Matt’s grandma’s
face sync with mine, as she started to drag Matt’s Mom into the kitchen. My last thought was, ‘this will be my last
thought’. Is that too funny?
Look at me now, guys!
Too kool 4 school. I’m gonna get
that tattooed on my forehead, if it’s not already there. Maybe Matt will do it for me while I sleep.
While I sleep.
