Crevices

Six

Mommy said your lips are all blue as she bent down and tried to wipe the color off with a wet napkin. Yeah and my teeth hurt a little I said. Daddy said that’s what too much sugar can do to your teeth. Lights flickered and loud music played. It all made me dizzy and I tweaked from the sugar high. We spun on rides too many times and my tummy hurt. I told Daddy that I wasn’t feeling so good. He said let’s get out of here; maybe grab some good dinner. Mommy held my right hand and Daddy held my left hand. They swung me back and forth. I said weeeeee weeeeee like the stupid little piggy. We skipped to a restaurant called Antonio’s. We ate pizza. Italian music played in the restaurant and Daddy and Mommy took me to a spot without tables. We danced. Mommy picked me up and kissed me so many times. I said stop it and laughed. Daddy took me by the arms and spun me around and around. Lots more laughter. The day shouldn’t have ended, but it did.

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My hand twisted up and down like a magician’s, cutting through the wind. Swerving and curving, getting sucked to the right and then the left. The dips made acid tasting of pizza regurgitate from my stomach and spurt into my throat. I swallowed it back. I watched the rocks and trees whoosh past, blurring together, an amalgamation of colors like the milk on the bottom of a bowl of cereal. Giggles exploded from my mouth until we found the bottom of the hill.

My eyes opened and my ears could only hear muffled sound. I felt wet drips on the back of my head. Panic struck and I frantically searched for familiar faces. His peaceful expression reflected back at me in the rearview mirror, calming my nerves. Banging and tearing and hacking and clawing came from above us. Something was trying to get in, but I knew they would protect me. They would stop the evil. There was a final rip and I was lifted into the air. Mommy and Daddy’s heads never turned.

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I lived in a white smelly room for about a week. Doctors and nurses came bursting in and out. In and out. I saw hazy figures and I could barely hear as if somebody stuck petroleum jelly over my eyes and put cotton balls in my ears. I opened my mouth wide and blinked a million times to try to fix the problems, but nothing worked. Doctor Asik said it will take time, Michael. Don’t worry. He put some pills on the stand next to my bed and said take these twice a day, your Grandpa will help you. Grandpa and Doctor Asik talked a while right outside my room. I heard psss psss psss might get angry. Psss psss psss better off alone.

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Flowers poured color all over. They just kept coming. I hate them so much. Every three seconds knocks reverberated through the door and somebody said delivery for Michael and Lloyd Everson. Grandpa said thanks and I hid my bandaged head. Flowers all over the house. A couple baskets filled to the top with meat, cheese and crackers tried to aid our ailing bellies. Because a giant piece of salami and cheddar cheese on top of a cracker definitely fills a gaping hole in people’s lives.

Grandpa held my hand the next day. We wore black itchy suits. People I never met walked up and kissed my cheek. I wiped their spit off. Flowers sat strewed throughout the church. Fucking flowers. I hate how beautiful they are and how wonderful they smell. The priest talked and talked, but he never knew what he talked about. They’re in a better place, da da da. Eternally together, da da da. Grandpa got up and said some things when the priest asked if anyone had something to say.

“I remember when Emily brought Kyle to meet me. I wanted to kill him right then and there. Wait, sorry. That wasn’t appropriate. But what I didn’t know at the time was that he would change my entire life. They were fucking great parents. Sorry, again. But they were. I loved them so much and they brought this little man into the world.” Grandpa pointed at me and I got angry and screamed.

“Stop it! Stop it! Don’t look at me! They’re not going to heaven! No they’re not!” I pointed at the priest. “You’re stupid! You don’t know anything! All these flowers are stupid!” I kicked a vase and it rolled between some pews and then disappeared under one. Grandpa picked me up and took me from that piece of shit church.

Grandpa took me back to his house and sat me in his favorite chair. He told me we’re going to have a fun time. Take our minds away from all the bullshit going on in our lives. He walked into the kitchen and threw some popcorn into the microwave. The popping made me smile. Grandpa came back into the living room with a bowl full of popcorn and some videotapes. Aliens and cowboys encompassed the screen. We watched all night, laughing. Mesmerized my eyes never left the screen and Grandpa knew every word.

Sixteen

A quiet encompassed the room. The loudest quiet I had ever heard. An annoying eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee erupted through my eardrums and I heard a rustling, a tape hiss. I stretched my jaw trying to force a yawn, hoping to alleviate the pressure from my brain. Lights flickered in the darkness of my room. I blinked in response.

My arms wouldn’t move as hard as I tried. The cocoon of blankets had a tight grasp. I rolled my body over and kicked them away in a heap. Freedom. The wall made a zipping noise as my fingers scratched across it, feeling for the window. Finally they found the string and pulled the blinds. Fire danced in the sky, displaying a resonating orange. I know there are other life forms out there. Watching us. Watching me. Maybe they’d abduct me and put things in my ass. Cut out half my brain. I would talk like this blargh yargh crargh. That means pass the salt please.

Screaming jolted my body. I lumbered to the door, tripping over my own feet, and I flew through the hall. The screaming grew louder as I came closer to his room.

“Get away from me with that! I know what you want to do with it!” I slid through the doorway to the old man lying on his bed clutching the sheets. His eyes turned to me as I entered the room and made my way to his bedside.

“Grandpa, what’s wrong?” I grabbed his arm, but he pushed me away, forcing my head into the wall.

“Get out of here! You’re one of them! You’re one of them!” His eyes opened wide. If he turned his head to the floor they would have rolled from his face. I escaped back to my room.

I jumped onto my bed and pushed my face into my pillow, letting out a muffled cry. He’s getting worse I thought. It’s not a fucking game anymore. With my face still buried in the pillow my hand reached to the nightstand and felt for the familiar capsules. The entrance turned, the hatch opened and I rocketed me to regularity.

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2,594,238 dots sporadically adorned the ceiling. No, I’m not a genius. Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Years of useless information force fed into my earholes. I had nothing better to do than count all the fucking dots above me. I picked at my dirty fingernails, plucking away some of the gunk. Ninety percent of it is probably human feces, or so I’ve been told. I’ve also been told that ninety percent of statistics are made up on the spot. Bubbles are amazing. Running around with a wand, poking balls of floating soap and flipping out when they burst and land in my eye.

“Michael, are you paying attention?” asked Mrs. Pate.

“Yes.” Even though my mind trailed I could still hear what she said. I had the pills to thank for my multitasking super power. She talked about how the French thought the Maginot Line impenetrable so they didn’t worry too much about Hitler entering their country.

“I need to see your eyes up here.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Pate.”

My eyes stared at the chalkboard as I thought about ants fucking and my ears listened to Mrs. Pate babble about the Night of the Long Knives. I had never witnessed ants fucking, but I’d heard “Ants Marching” and I thought fuck you Dave Mathews for no particular reason in general. The bell rang and interrupted my thoughts just as the ant came close to finishing the deed and a guillotine came inches from decapitating Dave. I stood from my desk and fumbled with my notebook as I tried to put it into my bag. I failed and it fell to the floor.

“FUCK.” All the turkeys stopped their gibble gobbles and turned their attention toward the shotgun blast. After a moment the gibble gobbles erupted again and tens of asses waddled through the door.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Michael,” said Mrs. Pate. Ever since I showed her the card I got away with everything. Hello, my name is Michael. I was in a major accident. I hit my head. I have a hard time working with others and sometimes I get frustrated… I picked up my notebook, not bothering to put it into my bag and escaped into the hallway, clinging to the wall, hoping to be camouflaged.

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I looked out of the bus window to a lawn that hadn’t been mowed or watered in weeks and wondered why people even bothered. It’s only grass. The bus stuttered to a halt. “Whoah,” I said as I tried to keep from falling. I moseyed to the front and the doors swung open, inviting me into the sun soaked wild. My foot left the last step and instantly the bus shut its doors and sped off, whinnying down the road.

I noticed the front door of my house open a crack. I squinted and scoured the surroundings. Dust whipped into my face as I crept across the lawn toward the suspicious door. A ball rolled in front of me like tumbleweed and then all stayed quiet on the western front.

My hand trembled as it pushed the door. It squeaked open and I entered cautiously.

“Grandpa?” I yelled, killing the silence. I moved to the living room looking at his favorite chair. A brown La-Z-Boy with a permanent impression only fit for one. Empty. “Grandpa?” I yelled again making my way to the kitchen. I heard some commotion coming from the same direction. I crept toward the noise, but the noise heard me and stopped.

“Put your hands up, sonny,” a horrific southern accent came from the kitchen.

“Grandpa, what’s going on?” He came through the doorway wearing a John Deere trucker hat, a western style button-up shirt, dirty old blue jeans, and tattered work boots. He held a banana in his right hand aimed to my skull while another banana was holstered in his left pocket.

“Grandpa? You’re old enough to be my brother,” he said with a twang.

“You’re one sad looking sap, Red.” I played the game even though I knew Grandpa had a sickness.

“It’s been a long time since I seen you ‘round these parts and your sorry ass shoulda kept it that way.” His voice sounded gritty and harsh.

“Well then. I’ll see you in hell.” I made my fingers into the shape of a gun and pretended to fire. I got him right in the heart and he fell to the floor in a huddled mass. I walked up to him and he clutched his chest. I whispered to myself, “I wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

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I couldn’t hold my breath forever, but if I held it long enough at least I could pass out, saving me from the horrible stench. Moth balls, human excrement and Lysol. Hacking and coughing and hacking and coughing. The white corridors seemed endless. Everything felt familiar. Reliving a vague memory or a horrific nightmare except this time I didn’t lay on the gurney. I pulled out the container to get my fix, but it slipped from my hands, bounced, and rolled, disappearing from sight.

Room 145 is where his body stretched still on the bed. I cautiously stepped into the room. I did it this time. I broke his brain. I destroyed his heart.

“I don’t think he’s going to make it… Tommy has just been in a terrible…” The television shut off and he turned to me. A weak smile came to my face.

“God damn General Hospital,” he said. I could barely look at him.

“I’m sorry, Grandpa.” I said, muffled through tears.

“Mikey, come here. You’re the strongest little bastard I’ve ever met. You’ll be alright. You’ll be just fine. You have the keys to the Gran Torino now. Don’t scratch it kid.” He pulled out his hand and beckoned me to come toward him. He ripped me close to him. The whiskers on his cheek scratched my face. I remembered my sixth birthday. “Stop it Daddy.” But the glorious burn never stopped. His cheek pressed against mine rubbing it harshly against my cheek. Mommy pulled me away from him and pressed her lips to my face soothing the throb. “There, that’s better,” she said. I believed Grandpa. I had the keys now. Just old enough to drive. I could feel his hand on the top of my head poking my scar, swerving and curving around its twists and turns until it stopped abruptly in the crevice of my neck.