Deamons

Chapter 22 "the driveway" part 1

"the driveway"

The deamons are well fed as the gifts starve out. Starke baths but avoids the mirror for when he sees himself all he sees in dirt and grime. Suicide would just be taking out the garbage he reasons. So much talk around him about people getting what they deserve. It is so hard to throw yourself off a cliff. Hope musters the strength to whisper to him. "Just give yourself a few more years. Do the math you will have many more good years than bad," Hope's words are drowned out by what sounds to be a public-address system installed in the interior. "You're not enough. You need something outside yourself to make you better!" There is a pause in the noise. It is Addiction. He is larger than ever. Rejection is whispering the words in his ear. He needed to bend over to get a little more fed to him before standing tall again to get the full resonance of his message out. "You are shit!" Rejection jumps up and grabs Addiction by the ear pulling him down with slight violence. "That is not what I said," Rejection whispers to Addiction. "Basically, that is what it is. It is about being human shit," Addiction says. Addiction seems millennia behind compared to Rejection. Addiction is like a simpleminded giant with a tiny schoolmarm beside him. "Say the words! Correctly," Rejection says clinched teeth his vast inner strength gleaming through his eyes. Addiction looks at him then swallows hard and says, "You are nothing on your own, but with the right combination of chemicals you are so much more. More than anyone else. More than you could ever be alone. More than those other kids with Daddy's that look at them with pride can ever be. For you will stand taller alone."

Hope's words took some root but are twisted by Addiction chiming in. Starke reasons something he calls the sick math. He figures if his first eleven years were mediocre then his next eight are horrible then if he lives just eight or nine years good years then maybe all life is worth living, but he wants to drown himself now. Shut those voices up that call him shit! His father does not drink but put a dry bar in the basement years ago. Starke lays behind the bar taking a sip from each bottle. The world is no more as he slips into oblivion. The voices in his mind are quieted. He is as good as anyone else. He forgets ever being beat, his mother turning into a witch, being called a son of a bitch and bastard a thousand times, grandparents that ignored his existence and never learned his name. He is as good as anyone else. He is drunk and it feels wonderful. Life's antistatic, no more pain.

He has had enough. He stumbles out from behind the bar and realizes he might smell like booze so he had better get out of the house. Down the road he goes. "You need more," Addiction whispers. He stumbles and decides it is best to just sit on the curb. "So much more. Change your life with chemicals. Like chemistry," Addiction continues to the inner ear. "Something is coming," Rejection says and pulls Addiction back. He runs over to the orbs of the eyes. Starke turns his head and pukes.

"Ah that feels better," Starke says as he wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He looks up and shielding his eyes from bright car lights coming down the road towards him. The car stops. Starke stands and spits like Clint Eastwood in the Outlaw Jose Wales. He squints to see in the car and figures he will hit the first one that comes out.

None do. The back window rolls down its Piner. He is a grade older and the kind of guy that crosses social strata. "Hey Starke!" Piner says. "Hey," Starke answers. "Got any more of that hooch?" Piner asks smiling as he looks down at the puke Starke is almost stepping in. "Wish I did," Starke answers. "Well hold on," Piner says and rolls up the window. "I don't like him. Look at him he so blocky and doesn't dress cool," The skinny fashionista in the front says. "Right he dresses how he wants and no one fucks with him. Besides are you going to approach the bikers down the driveway with your Izod shirt and khakis for some greens?" Piner says. The driver pipes in he is wearing an oxford shirt with his color buttoned and has a boxy jaw. "Look P-i-n-e-r you are supposed to be the man for that," the nasal vice driver says. "Well maybe he pitches in some money and he back me up? The guy I know might not be there today and I could use the muscle," Piner says. "I don't know? He looks broke," the front seat passenger says.

The window rolls down. Hey Starke we are gonna go get some greens," Piner says. "Greens? What is that?" Starke asks. "Greens is the stuff of legend. It is P.C.P. nothing takes you to a new place like greens, man," Piner says.

The deamons hear. "That's it! That's the good stuff. Nothing gives us the mind over like that stuff does," Addiction instructs. "Then that is what we get him to go for," Rejection agrees. Rejection waves Envy over positioning the deamon by the inner ear to speak. "Look at those boys they have cool clothing. One of the wardrobes cost more than every article of clothing you own." The Rejection chimes in, "Hang with those boys and you will be seen as cool. The girls may notice to you again."