33 Feet in the Air

Once upon a time there lived a man who was a myth, a folklore, a legend of sorts throughout the trailer park communities gossip circle.

he had a face
only a white trash stepmother could love,
and even she thought he was hideous.
his name was invisible
and this is his story….

I hadn't left my apartment or answered the phone in almost 2 weeks. I was almost out of money and supplies. I had decided one fuzzy morning that jobs were for suckers. I had bigger plans for myself, plans that didn't include working 40 hours a week for corporate companies that made more in one day, then I will make my entire life. The minimum wage bookstore paychecks. What were these great plans I had hidden in my future? What was I going to do? I'm still not sure, but someday I might be. Either way, I hated the job. Not that it was very hard; it was just the fact that I had to do it. So I slept in, as my phone rang off the hook, till I finally stumbled out of bed, took a piss, then took the phone off the hook, crawled back into bed, and snuggled up in my smelly sheets, ready for some more dreams. I had just gotten a paycheck to live off for a while the day before. I always seemed to dream better while sleeping in daylight. Or at least I could remember the dreams better I guess. My cat was hungry, and I was out of cat food, the fat fucker eats too much anyway. He refused to let me get back to sleep, started doing his meowing routine.

I was getting low on whiskey, cigarettes, top ramen, and oh ya, the cat needed feeding. I hadn't listened to all the messages on my answering machine since I left on my little seclusion journey 2 weeks ago. I don't know what made me decide to fuck up again, I mean to me it wasn't really fucking up, it was more like a 2 week vacation on some beautiful island I had never seen. So anyway, my boss kept calling. I finally picked up the phone,

said "I'm sorry, but I quit."

And went back to sleep.

I woke up next to some 400-pound lady in a bed that wasn't mine. My head was throbbing intensely from all the booze I must have consumed the night before. This mound of flesh lying next to me was naked and had on this mysterious breathing mask. It was mounted over her chubby hairy mug, her darth Vader breath, which attached to this deformed looking fan spinning around above the bed. There was a poster of some guy in Speedo's, on the wall, with a signed autograph.

I didn't want to wake her up, she might kill me. I managed to softly tip toe to her bathroom, I felt like I really needed to puke, but tried hard to hold it back. I sat on this foreign toilet, wondering who she was? Where I was? What that used condom was doing on the floor?

Then slowly, but sourly, last nights drunkenness began spurting out black and white recollections into my fuzzy brain. I remember being really drunk on the Internet, talking to some girl, I seem to remember a phone call, but have no idea if I drove over to her place or what. Worst of all, I didn't know this sleeping beauties name.

All the sudden the bathroom door swung open, right as I was hugging the toilet bowl in a heaving mess of sickness. It was some little kid with a ninja mutant turtle toy in his hand. He had these Spiderman underwear's on, and he had a homemade bucket blonde hair cut. I looked at him, stunned. He started screaming and crying, yelling……….

" Mommy, Mommy!"

"I ain't your Mommy kid, now keep quite, u'll wake the beast, shhhhh!, shaaadup! Kid!"

"Waaaaaaahhh!, Waaaahhh!," he screamed louder.

I heard the fan type-breathing thing being thrown to the floor in anger.

"Oh shit, now u done it kid."

Monstrous footsteps made the bathroom floor quake. I zipped my jimmy up, and pulled my head out of the toilet, with a chunk of lasagna smelling rice hanging from my nose. I coughed, I choked, I tried to gain my composure.

It walked in. It was beyond huge. It was naked. White like pizza dough. Gooooooeeeie and there. I was scared shitless. It had rolls upon rolls of fleshy fat covering rolls upon rolls of fleshy cellulite. It was going to kill me, I was sure of that. This beast was going to toss me around like a rag doll, and belt me a good one in the tummy. It had 4 chins.

"I'm sorry, I didn't, I mean, no, I didn't, where am I?"

The beast suddenly smiled at me. It patted the kid on the head, it whispered something in the toys ear, and the little fucker stopped screaming, now he was smiling to, they were both smiling at me. Where the fuck were my keys? Had I even driven here? What in all the poop was going on?

"Cereal, Cereal! Lucky charms, lucky charms!" the lil kid yells, running out of the bathroom, hopping up and down.

"Oh sweetie, come here" the beast said, moving towards my shivering body.

I was still sort of hugging the toilet in a lack of sleep daze.

It came up to me, and started rubbing my crotch.

"I'm sorry, but can u tell me where I am?" please mam?" I muttered.

"Don't be such a silly Willy wonka, stud muffin, last night was wonderful," the beast said, snuggling up against me.

"Want to do it again?while the kids are eating breakfast?"

"What? Do what? Where the hell am I?"

"Your in my apartment, in Jackson Michigan, don't tell me you don't even remember my name, you prick!"

"Umm, of course I do, u have to understand, I live in a world that my shrink tells me isn't quite real, and not quite not real."

"What? Your shrink! what the fuck!, you told me last night that you were a medical student in his last semester of Medical school! Are you just full of shit, or did you tell me the truth last night! After I ripped the rubber off!" The beast started acting up.

I really wanted to remember, I wanted to help her out with all her questions, but for the sorry life of me, I couldn't muster up what I may have said, let alone where in all fuck I was. I had never even had a shrink. I don't even know what was spurting out of my alcoholic wet minded mouth. All I knew is that I was lost again, and that this lady could crush me if she wanted too.

"You have such beautiful eyes, please don't be mad at me, " I said, rubbing her two necks.

"Oh, you are so sweet, I want you to fuck me again before my kids go to school."

"Certainly, my love, can you just direct me in the area of my keys? I did drive here? Didn't I? I mean ya."

"What do you want your keys for? We ain't done with the lovemaking. Like you told me last night, you were gona support me, so I could get off welfare, and then the grommets could eat steak."

"Grommets?"

"Yes, my two boys, that's what you called them last night, Grommets."

"Oh ya, that's right, yes, your eyes are wondrous beings in the enchanted world we became, my love."

"What? you sure are a strange one, but it's ok." The beast said.

"My keys were handed to me, she was still rubbing up against me. I hugged the toilet for a while more. Her kids left for school. I was trying to unlock her bolted front door. The beast's handy fingers clutched my scrawny neck.

"Want to smoke a joint, and finish our philosophy discussion we had last night?"

I wanted to run to my car. I wanted to wake up from this wet dream nightmare. But she had a joint. I hadn't been stoned in 3 days.

We sat on her smelly couch. I looked down at the floor. We smoked. She touched again. We played monopoly, ate cold pizza, and laughed about nothing.

We held hands in the park, while I spilled my life story out to her, high on her free booze. She was a sex maniac. And I was living out a drunken fantasy. I kept up the medical school story for as long as I could.

"Please tell me you have some booze in your apartment?" I asked.

She had wine coolers. She had vodka. We lived like kings and queens in her puny apartment. The little hyper Ritalin kids even grew on me. She stuffed me for weeks; I gained 40 pounds, and never called home. The beast never asked me to get a job. She understood.

One day her x husband came home. He didn't bother to ask questions. He just beat my silly drunken face into the hospital bed. I never saw either one of them again. Now I cringe at the site of any kind of fan, or ninja mutant toy. Darth Vader wasn't so bad, once I got to know what was under them beef cakes. I never did figure out how we met.

1992
happy life
Phone call:

"dude, were hitting a rage ---- errrr tonight! where the sloppy buckets will be flowing like the 10-kegg-in sappy clit lip- sticked love babes! I'll be over to pick your dumb ass up in about 10 minutes! Yeeeehhawww!! me, u, and Fred!, were there!, bring that kind green I know u got!"

shouldn't have answered phone. But it was loud and distracting.

"dude, I bin snortin Ritalin for 3 days and drinking heavily, I think I'll just stay in tonight, try and maybe eat, get some rest, flush the pills, u know? Vince? Maybe try and find some spiritual path with in the mucky mud burgers. I ain't up to it tonight, sorry."

"What the fuck is your gay ass little problem? All you are gonna do is wak off to that porn I lent ya! man, your coming out with us tonight u fucking troll sick bastard! fuk your Ritalin! We got pussy lined up! I'm coming over dude, me and Fred have already drank a case each, and had a few tee- kill- yah- shots! I'm coming over, you are coming with!"

now it's Fred, Vince and Fred, friends. Now its Vince.

"No, really Fred, I mean Vince, I have been hearing those voices again. I can't go out tonight, seriously dude, I need to get my head together, and I don't want to deal with any part of society tonight, ok? I'm sorry, I just won't leave my house right now, it would be horrible."

I had drank a fifth of cheap tequila about 3 days before, had some what of a nervous break down, and drove down a country road listening to some loud music, with tears and yelling screams pouring from my soul, this close to smashing my vehicle into a cornfield ditch of death.

"Dude! Voices? Shut the hell up! What is your deal! What happened to the old Slarve I use to know! Who would wake up at 3 in the morning on a workday, for a big shot of the bliss! I'm starting to worry about u bro, you are my best friend, and I want u to come out with us tonight! U need to get out of your fuking parents house! meet some chicks, have a drunken good time,. I'm coming over, with Vince, u dam pussy pud whak-ing fool! dude, just like old times!"

"No! Fred! U listen to me for a fucking change! I cant even function right now, let alone go to some lame ass party where I would end up vomiting all over some strangers bath room floor,, and probably end up getting my ass beat! Do u understand! I just want to be left alone for a while! I need to work some things out in my head!"

"dude, shut up, I'm coming over."

Fred slammed the phone down.

I chopped another pill up, snorted it, drank more, turned all the lights off in my parent's house, and sat Indian style, staring out the country style Michigan window- paranoid- silence- as the pupils in my sockets grew. I wasn't even there, waiting for Fred and Vince to pull up in his piece of shit VW bug>, I was invisible, fuk Fred, fuk Vince, Fuk my friends if they don't understand me.

They pulled up and started honking! Leaving dust flying all over the driveway. I sat completely still, peeking out a window, they couldn't see me, and I was safe. Neighbor's lights came on. Fred got out of the car; he began pounding on all the windows.,yelling…. " I know u are in there! U sick bastard troll! son of a beeeyaaaatch!"

Vince got out and pissed all over my truck. They sped off laughing, with the band slayer blaring. They were the sick ones, not me, not them, not anyone, life was glorious, speaking of Gloria, I wonder if she would have bin at the party tonight? Hmm, need fo0od, flush pills, before death heart rhythms.

I was glad they were gone. Was surprised they gave up so easily. Surprised they didn't break a window to get in, or pick the nob, the back door.. I really loved them both, but was not in the mood for that type of company, or party, or stupid people at parties, man, I was sick, I was alone, I was dealing with my own life for a change, I needed to be alone, needed to expand something,.

The next day I found out Fred was decapitated in a car accident. Vince was in intensive care, and now is in a wheel chair.

Descriptions of breathing mutant like loving human beings, who hate, seem to walk, some of them, seem to inhabit some store I work in. can they smile? Can they realize? Don't they have jobs? Why are they there all day? Some stand, some crawl. Others slobber. Can I smile? They seem to function for a purpose. All I want to do is read, finish all the novels I have never read, all I want to do is not be at work. Take in the words, maybe relate or laugh to myself for a second or two. I went out back tonight, (after being screwed into a 3-hour register shift,) in the chilly air of Texas; I went out back and punched the dumpster a few times as hard as I could. I needed it. I talked out loud to myself. Thought about walking away from another town. I calmed down.

It felt ok to have bloody knuckles for some cause. Because sometimes I just don't know, don't care, care too much, hate, love, panic, calm, emotions change from flash to flash, the zoo in life's reel goes on. The cause. Maybe curl up in some little fetus ball and suck my booze bottle for a century or so. Speaking of babies, you wouldn't believe how ugly some of theses deformed irregular rats are in the strollers, screaming and crying, kicking, wanting to much already, maybe they know what's in store for them, maybe they know more then me. I think people in Texas breed some of the ugliest kids I ever seen, next to Michigan of course. Could be like this everywhere.

Descriptions: a lady who is sweating like a hard laborer in 100 degree heat makes her way up to the counter, like an injured half pig whale like creature. Her money is wet; her long bulky dress is smelly, soaked like 4-day-old socks. She has a goatee thicker then mine, and hers is white. It's a certain smell I can't quite make out. One I've smelled before. Maybe in the Emergency room. She mumbles things about her medication and how hot it is in the bookstore. Her face is one big itchy rash of different blotches. I take a few steps back from her heavy breath, and Danielle steel books, sort of twitch about the wet money, I hate germs, have a thing about germs, but I am a germ myself. She leaves finally; I wipe my hand off on my jeans.

Descriptions: a little chubby troll like thing dwarf is pumping away on the complimentary coffee, there is none left, it ran out about 5 hours ago. I suppose that's why its called complimentary coffee. What do expect in some half-ass bookstore? What? do u want couches and french fries to go along with your coffee? Well fuck off. Buy the dam books u want, and get the hell out. I mean, "have a nice day mam, and happy new years, and merry Christmas, and happy Easter, and jolly George Washington day, happy martin Luther kings day, or something like that.all day, every week seems to be some dumb holiday I never much cared for. Some reason for the mutants to celebrate their creepy looking off spring.

Back to the chubby troll: I'm not sure if it's female or male, but it's coming up to me, its glasses half crooked, its mouth like a muddy piece of bologna slapped together, ready to jump out of the frying pan… "Gits toooz deez coooofeees, nada to go left."

Wo, it can speak, it tried to say something, I think to myself, staring at it. It's eyes are flickering around in circles, with in big coke bottle lenses, holding some last dribble of dark coffee left overs in a paper cup. I take a few more seconds to examine the creature in front of me. It sort of has tits, but it could just be a fat boy, I'm amazed by it, what is it? What sort of person spawned this? I just keep staring, thinking about things. It suddenly speaks again..

"meeter, me aksa da question, did coffee makes mores?"

"Smores?" I say back.

Degradations world spawn and the grandiose waves of vender faced lights- starts the rise along-scatter-brained resolutions of nebulous pork chopped wish bones, the polar past of something to reminisce upon, the clinging shatter of two red wine glasses becoming, so becoming, a cheers in thought.

Cranking the wheel, conclusive heartaches were just a fixation on virtuous human bliss, propped up to die, on a broken roller coaster ride, this carnie scuffed man passing through your bantam tender town, with his decomposed chocolate teeth, his mind holding a zillion tales, his hired hounded silent fascia turning, swiveling, shaking the wheel, your life, in his hands, be sure to laugh and belittle him when the spinning stops.

Contort his face to your own rubbery foundation, clasp his brain, form any grief silently, throw your pretzel at his back, toss your half eaten hot dog near his feet, and let him weave the web you can't foresee.

"Can you please stop yelling in my ear! I can hear you perfectly fine from a distance!" Dilbert screams at his wife.

Look up yonder where the smoke turns invisible, fading into the o- zone and placidity. Wish me to a joyful place, where perfect strangers hug the human race, no questions asked, to many answers given, these silly little needs with threaded blunt exits into opinions on the soul. Some sort of triumphant jack ass kicking the shit with his hoofs in frustrating satisfaction. Beethoven skipping into the drug laced lips of a Mick Jaguar like strut. The moth won't stay still long enough for a good whack in the head.

"You gonna help pull this shit off of me! Or do I got's to do's it alone you asshole!" Dilbert's wife screams.

These dam toothaches, this virus like hitchhiker stinking up my pick up truck.

She's out there swinging tears from a bullwhip, all strapped up in her special Sunday s-n-m outfit, her feverish smile dripping from those seductive eyes. Sardines, saliva, anchovies, basement books, mothball bar man drinks, to the road I must go. Freeways, towns, women, to crush the mundane memory with in this mumbling method of destructive therapeutic mouthwash.

And nothing seems to make any sense.

This story Copyright 2000 Nicholas Morgan.

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