DREAM SMASHERS

Dream Smashers - Chapter Two

DREAM SMASHERS

TWO

Pounding. Jacinda’s head pounds like her fists on the door. But the door ain’t opening. The fucking door needs to open to stop the pounding—the pounding on the door and in her head.

            Darla’s stupid ugly roadster is parked in the driveway, the car that she hid in storage for years from her supplier. He’s locked away now and so her car is free. She’s got to be home. Why ain’t she opening the door?

            Pound, pound, pound, pound, pound, pound, pound, pound, pound, pound, pound.

            “Darla! Open the door!” Jacinda yells. “Please, please open the fucking door.”

            Maybe if she kicks the door Darla will hear it. Kick, kick, kick.

            Nothing.

            “Darla! Darla!” Jacinda screams.

            A fat guy with half an ounce of hair on his head emerges from the house across the street. His belly hangs out from the too-short-bathrobe that he didn’t bother to tie and his boxers scream Christmas stocking stuffer—bright red with green trees decorating his private parts.

            Jacinda’s stomach spasms. She gives effort one last blast, “DARLA! I know you’re in there. Please. I just need one…” then slides down the door to sit on the cold cement and cries in her arms. “Please…”

            “Hey!” Fat-man yells.

            A line of sugar ants scurry alongside the door. They’ve found a crack in the seal to get into the house. “If only I could be a sugar ant." Jacinda smashes the ants with her finger. "One ant, two ant, three ant, four ant, five ant—“

            “Hey lady! Come here,” Fat-man says.

            Oh God. Just leave me alone, you fuckin’ sicko perv.

            “Fine. Ignore me. I don’t care. See if I help you.” He waits for a response. “I think I have what you need.” He stands in the middle of the street, scratching the globe hiding under his dingy wife-beater.

            “You do?” Jacinda asks.

            “Come on over here. I’ll hook you up.”

            Hope.

            She crawls up the wall to a standing position, then creeps across the damp patch of dandelions and brown lawn. “You’ve got crank?” she asks when close enough for no one else to hear. “Maybe just a quarter. That’s all.”

            “Yeah, yeah…I got that.” Dead possum air escapes his mouth. He scratches his backside and turns his head to the left and then to the right. “Come on over.”

            “Serious? Oh man. You’re a life saver. How much? I ain’t got no money but I could pay you back.”

            He checks her out with his eyes and a juicy slug slithers over his lips. “Nah. We can take care of it right now. Come on…I’ll take care of ya.”

            A boulder drives itself into Jacinda’s brain. Her eyes feel like exploding. “Whatever. Yeah, only if you really have it.” Anything. She’ll do it.

            A rumble ripples through the dark clouds above, declaring to the world below rain is near.

            “Come on.” He waddles back to his house.

            Jacinda follows.