Getting Up: Finding My Way Back in a Flash, 2011-2014

Drugs and Death

Jealousy

The heat enveloped the tiny apartment. Michael peeked at the ocean through the thick drapes. He hurried into his T-shirt. He cut the air and the fan on. The whiteness of his face and arms glowed, but his black hair and dark eyes stayed in shadow. The interior of the apartment swam. The shapes that furnished it shook like the vertical hold on an old TV. He blinked. He flopped into an old recliner and started up his Xbox 360. Chelsea, his girlfriend, walked into the room naked. She popped him in the back of the head and knocked things over - games, soda cans, an ashtray.
"Stop it. Don't screw with the coke so early," he said.
"I wanna be ready for the day." She shut the game console off.
"Hey, you ruined my game." Michael pushed her and cut the blinking green light back on.
"You suck. You're an amazing contribution to humanity," she said.
He eyed her and was amazed the words contribution and humanity were in her vocabulary. "What are you trying to say, corncob?"
"Why can't I be you?" she said. "Gamer by day, clubgoer by night. Plenty of money. Then I could be just as big a jerk." She toppled a rack of CDs. "I like your friend, Emilio. At least he smiles."
Michael punched through Black Ops. "Believe me, you're an appetizer to him sweets, and anybody else who wants a free lunch."
"Whatever. Who's the ugly girl in the pictures? My replacement?" she asked.
Michael stiffened and wanted Anne. "Why did you go through my stuff?" He stood and pushed her to the floor.
She laughed. "I burned those nasty things. You got what you need with me."
He looked at the grayed-out garbage at his feet. "You really wanna fly. I think you deserve it corncob."
She got excited and tried to sit up. The air in the room cracked open. The canines elongated inside of his mouth. Her left carotid burst before she could react, pulsing down his throat. He pulled his shirt off and wrapped it around her head.
"You can't be me, because you're really dead." He carried Chelsea to the bathroom.

***

Dueling Dogs

The flat field stretched for a mile in four separate directions. A wooden house sat three-quarters of the way in. The last tornado through had clipped the drainpipe that clanged against the side that faced north. A black Beamer with sold black tint was parked behind the back door.
The driver stepped into the dusty kitchen and pulled the pickup down from behind a loose board above the door he came through. The 200 pound St. Bernard, heavy in his belly and flanks, brown and white, lips pulled back tight over his teeth, padded up behind the driver without a sound. The driver felt heat on his back and heard the low guttural growl. The dog jumped him, pushed him halfway down the back steps, and wrapped his jaws around the driver's neck. A 30-gallon garbage bag filled with Zip-Loc rock dropped and split on an exposed nail. It hung and spilled between the separated planks. The dead driver lay limp. The dog shook himself and sat on top of the driver's back.
The driver's pit bull, black and white, spotted like a palomino pony, chewed at the car windows. He vaulted between the front buckets and pushed at the driver's door. He chewed on the electric locks and the door handle. The Bernard hopped off the porch and whuffed at the invisible pit. The driver's door was not shut. The door popped open, and the pit jetted out. His teeth caught the Bernard in the muzzle, and they rolled away from the car.
The Bernard jumped up and put some distance between he and the pit. The pit snapped and tried to come in quick and tight. The Bernard twisted and almost snapped the pit's neck. The pit, smaller and faster, zipped underneath the Bernard and got behind him. He bit at the hind legs until he was able to catch him hard between his teeth and clamped down. The larger dog howled, hopped, and tried to extricate himself, snapping, unable to strike. The two dogs rolled, the pit bit harder.
The Bernard's master closed the door to his gold Jeep. He put a bullet in the back of the pit's head and walked off to the house, knowing what he would find.