Deamons

Chapter 21 Nickel Bag part 3

     "I got him John," Starke says. "Nah, man we've got to finish the summer time air. Stay," John pleads. "No! I got to get home," Starke insists.

His parents are home. He enters the house. They are screaming. Oh shit, he thinks. What if they found out the money is gone. He cannot even return it now, and if they check his pocket they will find the pot. He runs down to the bathroom, tosses the cellophane of pot in the light at the top of the medicine cabinet. He throws cold water over his face. He can still hear them screaming upstairs, His heart races and he just wants it to stop. He wants to climb in the dirty clothes in the laundry room next door like he is climbing back in the womb, but is afraid of falling asleep and being surprised by them.

He sits on his bed in his room and waits. The screaming subsides. Then he hears the thud, thud thud as they come down the steps. The sounds stops. He waits in agony not knowing what they may storm down to him and do. Then the front door opens. He peeks out and sees them go down the walk to their car. Their muffled voices reveal they are going out to eat. He can see his mother has the coat on he took the money from.

"It's time. Go get some of that aluminum foil," Addiction requests. Starke is worried. He wants to get the pot. That will change everything though, he knows that. "It will change for the better," Addiction says. Rejection is feeding the other deamon Starke's deep thoughts and emotions as he hears them. "Push him harder," Rejection whispers to Addiction. "The smoke will envelope you like you wanted laying in those sour smelling clothes to do. The smoke will connect you with the earth," Addiction proclaims.

Starke falls for it. He makes his aluminum foil bowl and fetches a lighter. He goes to the window and lights the bowl inhaling deeply. Nothing changes, He waits a minute. Checks his fingers and wiggles his toes. Everything is still there and feels no different so he takes another big drag off the makeshift bowl. Starke lays down on his bed feeling no different. Then sudden like a light switching off in a room he has lost it. He lost time having no idea how long he has been there. Then panic. Where is the weed. Oh shit. He rolls off his bed landing on his knees at the side of the bed. The first thing he finds is the mashed-up aluminum foil. He grabs that running to the toilet to flush it. Where is the weed. He tries to work through his mind but it short circuits. He is distracted by the pores of his skin and some pimples he sees on his chin. He pushes on his nose trying to clean the pores. Runs the hottest water he can imagine and splashes it all over his face. Hotter and hotter trying to get clean. He decides he needs to get entirely clean but remembers he has not found the pot again.

Starke rushes back into his room. He checks everywhere. What time is it, he thinks? Oh lord, oh lord, he sees the clock. It has been a half of an hour since his parents left but it feels much longer. He thinks he hears something and runs through the entire house then worries how much time has passed. Checks the clock, forty minutes since they left. He checks his pocket and finds the cellophane of what is left of pot and hides it under his mattress.

What to do? If his parents come home and talk to him now he worries they will know something. If he gets in bed already that is suspicious too. He goes back into the bathroom and takes the hottest bat as humanly possible. His skin is lobster red. Soaking in the tub of high hot water Starke holds his breath and falls back under the water. Under there the outside world does not exist. If he could just stay there forever. Then the time thing again. He does not know how long it has been.

He gets out his skin all wrinkled up like it was when he took a bath as little kid. His eyes tear and he does not know why. His stomach churns. He is so hungry all of a sudden. He dresses and looks out the window again. It is getting darker and the coast is still clear. He slips up to the kitchen looking for food that they will not know is missing. He has to hurry he does not want to get caught up there whenever they walk back in the door. He takes pieces of white bleached bread and balls them up and chews on them. Then he gets the idea to put some barbecue sauce in between two pieces of bread and it tastes out if this world. Full he runs back downstairs to his bedroom. He checks to see where the pot is again. Satisfied he looks out the window again.

It is dark now the sun has set and the street lights have come on. He can lay done now, just feint sleep if they come home. He cannot relax. Where is the dubage? He checks under his bed. Did he leave any crumbs upstairs? He runs up and wipes all the counters clean, checks the bread the twist tie is on tight. Then he runs and makes sure he flushed the toilet. He does not remember using it but cannot afford to take a chance.