In descending order, alphabetical

By Pablo D'Stair

[Part 3]

Actually he had his head in the refrigerator, the thing not so much the least bit cold, something the matter with it, as he did not want to hear the anything of Krista in the restroom, thin door and no overhead fan, she had been telling him about something and had to excuse herself, midsentence, left the door open a crack to keep talking. He exhaled the drag he had just taken from the joint he was holding on to the plastic covering some three day old sandwich and some lettuce, as an afterthought taking one of the bottled waters and drinking it almost at a go.

He told her he was just after his DVD player, needed it to see some film, but kept it all offhand, as he could not be bothered if she thought he had some other motive for showing up, also he offered to buy some of her pot and like the obnoxious songbird she was she told him just take some and not to worry about paying for it, he told her that he would take some, either way, but that he was leaving twenty dollars on the counter, just so she knew he was not some bustout needed to beg drugs off of her and she only responded with telling him not to bother trying to figure out how much was twenty-dollars-worth and he still had no idea where the stuff was so milled around and she got the DVD, telling him as she set it down, all wrapped up good in its cord and the connector wires he also had lent out to her, that the player had never even worked to begin with and she just had a lot of things sitting on top of it for ages, pointing at some broken circle stains of bottoms of cups and all manner of odd crusts, milk, candle wax, a mess of things.

He only questioned her limply and bored about what she meant it did not work, like what did she mean, like it never worked at all, it was totally broken, or it was just lousy picture quality or had she just tried out one DVD or what was the thing, nodding and taking a few more drags while she went on a story about this friend having a go at fiddling with it, no one seemed to think she could operate a DVD or something, and how she had just bought herself another player from the drugstore for something like thirty dollars.

Which drugstore?

He was glad she had said this, not wanting to have to bother with where else might be open by the time he got his act together, trudged himself in and all of it.

What movie?

He stared at her, making a face like she should leave off and with her asking What movie? as she knew she knew absolute zero when it came to cinema, so why posture like some needy little teenager and she giggled, simpleton, chortling a chug of a drag of the joint in and covering her face unnecessarily.

Are you writing?

He perked up entirely, sat on the large chair and snapped at her, called her a mongrel and to get another joint rolled because he was completely worthless at things like that, she doing so while he went on that he had a new idea and was deathly excited about it, did she want to have a listen and she with going nod nod nod, little licks of eyes up from the plumped out lips, face of concentrating on what she was doing, flicks of eyes to show she was still listening.

What he said was There’s this poor mess of a guy, I don’t know, John X, you know? Johnny No One, or let’s call it at Allen, he’s Allen XYZ, right? and there’s a terrible fire, awful and he’s a young man tried to get his father and sister out of the fire, thing is he messes it up, you know? I don’t know is it his fault or what, and the dad dies, the sister gets all mangled up and all, burnt to a crisp face but alive, you know? She’s all over-plump like a burnt hotdog looking, but not dead or anything else and Allen is off to an asylum some years, right?

She had the joint lit and took the first two drags, like a test drag and one proper, passed it across and was still nodding the whole time and now in with That’s a messed up situation, man and This is a play?

It’s a play, yes, but most of that, I’m giving you what it’s about, it’s not like I set the actual stage on fire or anything.

At which point she said Well, it’s just you’re writing it, it probably won’t ever be put on.

And honestly, the comment did not phase him, he was laughing just at how it was the flat plain truth but she went almost blue she went so white and got apologetic like she had killed his new kitten or something.

It’s fine.

I did not mean that, I just meant, I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.

That’s alright. I don’t even know what you’re worried about here, seriously, don’t be such a cutey, it’s fine, you’re right, I might as well say the whole auditorium is to go up in flames and you know? It’s fine.

Awkward

But no, though, it was all static and awkward, now, she wanted to give him a hug and now wanted to pay strict strict attention to the rest of the story and if he went on with saying he’d tell her another time it would seem he was all dejected by what she had said and now was pouting, it crossed his mind almost he should go ahead and just act accordingly, let her apologize for awhile, whatever.

She held a joint across to him and had eyes all baubles and made to be looking up through her furrowed brow and hanging bangs, smoked a suck and handed it back.

What time is it? seriously, I need to get a DVD player, he said, standing, asked where the pot was and promised promised—filling a little baggie with a good amount, her insisting he take more, like it would solve the slight between them, but she would realize she snapped out of it, so he could not take advantage—promised promised he would let her read it, it should only take the week to finish writing, he wanted the it all done before he had to get back to work, either way.

She stood lilting in the corridor as he made his way to the stairs, regretting that he could not bear to see the slouch of her, the I’m-sorry-sorry-desperate-I-need-a-friend look of her were he to turn and at the same time hated to leave her so nothing like that, nothing without even a glance back to confirm her.

It was broken shambles of glass cold, looking at the time, passing a bank, it was only Dart Drug would be open, either way, gotten way past late at some point, just restaurants and bars, some few odd spas or whatever, saloons or whatever, and Dart Drug open all down the streets, just ash streets, the chill had every living thing but light and scampers of dying leaves staying inside.

Cosmetics

Finally, he had to go up to some foreign woman who was restocking cosmetics, ask her did the place even still sell electronics, using the word Still on purpose, as he was not sure Dart Drug was ever a place to’ve sold electronics, but at the same time he didn’t want this flabby clerk to get away with a timid squip of a No, when all the time she just had no idea and did not want to be bothered.

Was pointed to the front check-out, the DVD player behind it next to some other gadgets and whatever, blah blah blah blah blah with the clerk ringing him, probably seemed stoned past forgiveness, eyes stomped on cherry red pink blots, veins like ingrown hairs, but it was just some hump clerk, obviously on temp to hire or work release, a nowhere man in no position to bother with making snide judgments, no one to gossip to even if the fiend wanted.

He stood out in front of the place, the bag with the DVD player in it, the plastic a bite of weight down over his wrist, hesitating, thinking he really ought just to go back in there and get cigarettes, then remembered he already had some of those cigarettes he had bought earlier, lit one and walked, all the time remembering to keep up the pace, especially since he was in the mild part of his high, could stagger off course, wind up sitting in some no place little coffee shop or something until all hours.

Something About Allen Something About Allen he said and tensed and untensed his body like he was in his thoughts jogging and throwing rabbit punches, really just a crink of movement, getting along and then remembering he did need to go to that liquor store before up to his apartment.

Across the street was a drab thumbprint of a building, tucked in between a gated, closed for the night dry cleaner and a shady looking foreign restaurant, a whisper of tinkering glasses and idiot laughing chatter through the curtain that was the door, no particular name to the liquor store so he would probably be reamed by the price, suddenly could care less and it was like he was not worried about anything.

There could be a scene in his play, something, there could be, like in the beginning, something, a scene where the miserable Allen person was in a chair, like on stage, and the stage would be lit very dim, dot dot dot of light, like oil light didn’t illuminate but almost darkened, and a whole line of people, obscured in the dark, Allen the only thing lit, would in a tight, lazy row pass behind Allen all sat like some broken hump in the chair, and at intervals this one or that would say Allen, say Allen, first blank but progressively more like a question, more like Allen? and then the lights would come up and it would only be Allen and one guy, the shrink, just sitting there, had been there the whole time, just the light had hid the shrink, all of the people having walked off stage and the Allen guy would blink to it, just start in as though answering some question had been asked and the play would pick up that way like nothing.

He was staring at the labels of wine, trying to recall what it was it that you shouldn’t mix wine and liquors or something inane like that, and wine was not even in his plans, he set the bottle of Toasted Head merlot down and went to the counter with a small bottle of Bulliet bourbon and one of those oversized bloated jug bottles of Jim.

The clerk said something about why should he get Jim if he was already getting Bulliet and had he ever tried something called Fighting Cock.

I haven’t, no, he answered, but he felt like it was after a pause, a pause in which he slowly drug a cigarette from the package and set it to his lip like a model airplane decal, something.

Fighting Cock, it’s about the best, you know? strongest.

What do you mean? I’m sorry, it’s what?

Proof wise.

He just nodded and realized he had actually bit into the cigarette filter, the unlit tip was up at some unforgivable angle, tick tick in front of his one eye, Fighting Cock, he mumbled and mumbled I’ll try than next time, I think.

And the clerk maybe was satisfied with that and he could not get up the enthusiasm to be worried either way, he very pointedly thought to himself.

The parking lot, the sidewalk, needed to cross the street but sort of paused, unlit cigarette, there was wind and he moved, a shove to himself, knew he was all adrift in his high and his thoughts, had been waiting for the wind to slow, stop, before crossing the street, no kind of way to get on and so opened the small bottle up and a swig down the Bulleit, a chomp, another, another quick little one, harsh breath like he had swallowed a dank fistful of slop tugged from some drowned body’s mouth, mud and dead wet grass, insects and their eggs, mostly stillborn, cringing around in it, and strangled it down into his gut, only now able to get at air, again.

The scene with the chair and with Allen and the chair and then it’s the bland little psychiatrist, just the psychiatrist and Allen, he hummed it like a song and moved with his head all tilted, pointing the way home with the side of his face, eyes winced in concentrated remembering, shoulders trudging him in the direction of his apartment.