When These Open Doors Were Open Ended

ANDY

It's hot. Not just hot, it's this sweltering, dry heat that sinks into your skin and just... stays. I love it. The bus chugs along the desert road, passing cactus after cactus. Cacti? Octopus. Octopi...Cactuses. And a sign: "Welcome to Arizona, the sunshine state!" I chuckle, bitterly, and turn away from the window. My eyes adjust to the darkness, and my surroundings come into focus. Thick smoke fills the air and beer cans, a pile of blankets and a skinny white guy with an afro and a joint in his hand litter the floor. He's called Joe.

"Close the fucking window man you're letting out the dank..." He mumbles. I roll my eyes and pick up a stray drumstick, twirling it in my left hand. I make my way through the clutter, trying to find our mini-fridge. It's buried under clothes and newspapers....I'm pretty sure hobos keep their freeway underpasses cleaner than this. I open the door and of course like 12 beers roll out.

"Ah...shit", I mutter under my breath as a bottle breaks and spills out all over a pair of stray converse. I think they're Pete's. Finally after digging through alcoholic beverage after beverage, I find what I'm searching for: breakfast. Today it's leftover tofu stir-fry, fuck yeah. I stick the drumstick in my back pocket and make my way back to my bunk, food in hand.

By now the stoned mass of hair has picked up a guitar and is slowly picking out the opening rift of "Sweet Child 'O Mine". I climb up into my bed and get comfortable to listen. I haven't even opened the container yet when he suddenly stops playing.

"Do you hear that?" he asks, squinting his red eyes. I don't hear a thing, and I shrug, going back to prying open my food.

"No no, shush, listen." he puts a finger to his lips and squints even more. I let out an exasperated sigh and put down my breakfast.

"Joeseph you're high as fuck, I don't hear anything." I say. Joe turns to me and gives me this incredulous look.

"Exactly." He says, and then it clicks. Besides the outside noise of hot wind and the low rumble of the bus engine, it's silent. It hasn't been like this since we started the tour, and that's either really good, or extremely bad.

"Go heat up your food and check it out." Joe says, still on the floor. I notice he's wearing Batman boxers and I narrow my eyes.

"Don't order me around...I'm only going because I hate cold tofu. And those shorts are mine, dickmunch." In truth, the only microwave is in Pete and Patrick's cabin, and I try avoid that area as much as possible. Cold breakfast is calm breakfast. Joe looks down at his crotch and raises his eyebrows as if in shock.

"Oh, these? Are you sure?" he asks. The expression on my face clearly is unamused and he notices this.

"Ugh, fine." with this, he proceeds to remove them right in front of me, not a drop of shame or embarrassment in sight.

"Ah! Shit man put them back on noone wants to see all that!" I grimace and turn away, climbing down from my bunk and making my way to the door.

"Don't be jealous," he pauses to toss the boxers onto my bed and scratch his balls, "Go check on mom and dad." I sigh and look away, sliding open the door that separates our cabins.

I'm so shocked at what I see that I drop my food, cold tofu and veggies spilling out over the carpet.