Heaven for Everyone (Book II)

26.) Who Knows Who She'll Make Me

A/N:
Yippers strippers! Sleep is for the weak!

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"Once I was eight...maybe nine years old- I can't remember....they sent me off to face the stretched out, dangerous waters of the raging sea all by myself. Mama told me to make friends or I'd be lonely..but you know, kids are mean and they called me Bucky and it took a long time to become Freddie...but eventually it happened and so the story goes and now you're here and you're all I've got, do you understand?,"

Oscars glowing green eyes look up at me like he is judging my life choices. Always the silent critic.

"Don't be so judgmental, Oscar. It's...it's a good thing you've got an owner like me. I understands you,"

I scratch his head and he leans against my hand, purring in content.

"Mmmmm...that's what... *hiccup* ..that's what I thought. Sometimes I like you better everyday," I throw my head back and laugh loudly, completely enjoying my solitude "Noooo... I haven't gone mad, kitten. I just think, I'm *hiccup*  twoshtepsnearerto my grave,"

My lush slurs sprout streaks of spit from the sides of my mouth. I wipe them away and rise from my seat, removing Oscar from my lap and plopping him down on the couch where we have been nestled in our own little bubble of bubbly.

Bubble of bubbly.

Well, that's a misfired hit- if I've ever written. Wrote. I mean, that's a lyric, I tell you that.

I fill my glass to the rim with the warm liquor of Stolichnaya Vodka, my personal favorite. Gulping it down halfway, it slithers through me- no burnin left to give a fuck about. This is not me throwing fire to the wind- caution. Throwing caution to the wind, what have you. No- I am working.

This is me working as the musical prostitute that I am expected to be. The vodka is just keeping me jazzy and the caine candy is for keeping me going.

I take a coin from my pocket and dip it into the heap of powder, separating a pretty portion of the snowball. Lifting it to my nostril, I plug the other, taking a sharp inhale to the heavy bump. Sniffling my nose and flaring my nostrils against the tickling sensation before the numbness overrides it. I don't know how I can still taste the chalky gunks trickling down my throat, but I do.

I start to play my grand piano- just a melody to how I feel inside. The music doesn't help me. I can't feel my feelings if I've already numbed myself senseless.

Every love song has be written, every sad song is repetition. I've done it all- I've had it all and now it's gone on and left with out me.

"So, you see, Oscar- oh, shit! What was I saying...," I can feel my mouth becoming heavy with a stiffness as I unconsciously let it hang and chew on my lip to get some sense of reality. The "zombie gnaw"- as I used to refer to it.

My eyes bulge out, I can't tell by the way the air hits my entire eyeball. It causes free tears to fall  from my inner eyes. I flutter my lids against the zooming swirls that surround me.

My words slide out in a southern drawl with a twang of good old Louisiana flavor- sometimes pretending to be someone else makes me feel much better.

....Better.
Bett-ER?

....Bett-ah.

Whatever. Either way, I'm just me. This is me. This is who I've come to be- and it's a hard life, but if I consider it a challenge then I ain't gonna lose.