I was staying in a friend's poll barn near the great lake of Michigan in the summer of 1999. Planted smack in the middle of Michigan's northwestern Lower Peninsula, at the base of the Leelanau Peninsula, (25 miles) west of Traverse City. I had split the cyst of a town, Lansing, Michigan after to many bills had caught up to me, plus there was a warrant out for my arrest, and a few people wanted me dead. My friend, Chaz, and his girlfriend, Neeva, had built themselves a greenhouse business on a vast amount of land they had acquired. They were kind enough to take my sorry ass in and pay me 8 dollars an hour to do work for them. I could make my own hours, drink on the job, and come and go as I pleased. I usually just worked long enough for a bottle of whiskey, some beef jerky, and a nice sized steak to grill every night. I spent most of my time at the so-called Beach near the sand dunes, alone, reading, writing, playing guitar, swimming, reflecting images about my existence, and what I was suppose to do with my life.
Being near Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore was an invited and much needed change of scenery. The national parkland had tons of hiking trails, mammoth mountainous bluffs, colossal forests, and the refreshing air was euphoric. It was Mother Nature's magnificence at her finest. I could walk 50 feet out into the lake, and still only be waste high. The water was so fresh and inviting on those 90-degree days. I use to swim so far out into that lake, diving under, digging my hands through the sandy bottom, pop my head back up for a breath, dive back under like a mermaid with my feet kicking in the sunshine. Sometimes I thought about trying to swim all the way to Chicago, so I could live on the streets and frequent the blues bars I had heard so much about. It was supposedly dangerous to swim too far out. I had heard many a drowning story from Chaz and Neeva. Sometimes I would get so far out into the lake, that the people on shore looked like little worried ants, pointing at me.
The pole barn I was staying in was separated into two different living quarters. I had a section, and my hosts had a section. The only thing I couldn't stand about it was the crickets. That pole barn was infested with dam crickets. I hated bugs; any type of pestering little creepy crawlers annoyed the piss out of me ever since I could remember. The crickets would get so loud around my sleeping quarters at night that I would get up, turn the lights on and hunt them down with a big combat boot in hand. They were sneaky little fuckers. As soon as the light came on, they would quiet down. If I found one, it would get a big death squash with my combat boot. Chaz and Neeva refused to kill the crickets. They use to tell me that people in Japan or China or somewhere would keep crickets as pets and good luck charms, to roam free in their house. They told me killing the crickets would bring bad luck.
"Fuck that shit, I hate bugs." I would respond.
I was going to kill all the crickets I could find. I needed to get a good night sleep if I was going to get up early to earn drinking money. The host's alarm clock went off at 8 a.m. sharp everyday, because the greenhouse business opened at 8: 30. I was never much of an early bird person. Their 20 chickens and roosters would usually wake me up when the sun came up anyway. Chaz and me would usually stay up into the wee hours of the morning, smoking dope, drinking, and recording our 2-man band. We called ourselves LoveTurd. No one much liked our original noise music. But we made some of the most touching soulful songs I had ever heard. We had made 100's of tapes throughout the years and never played the same song twice, probably cause we were to wasted to remember the chords most of the time. I liked the slow acoustic songs we did best.
One morning, after a heavy night of drinking, barbecuing, and jamming, I didn't feel much like getting out of bed to work. I had gotten no sleep because of the crickets. I just lay there, staring up at the pole barns ceiling, concocting a plan to kill all the crickets. Chaz came into my room. Chaz had a special way of talking, real slow and melodramatic, from years of drug abuse I assumed.
"You gonna get up you fucking slob loser, we got work to do bitch,' he said in a somewhat joking way.
"I don't want to work today asshole, I just want to lay here and maybe masturbate," I said.
"Lazy fuckers get no bong hits," he responded, packing up some fine skunky bud in his bong.
"Come on, gimmee a hit, I'll work tomorrow."
"Should I give him one Neeva?"
"Oh Chaz, don't be stupid, give him some, he doesn't have to work if he doesn't want to," Neeva said, smiling at me.
We smoked down. Then they went outside to deal with customers and get some work done. I sat around eating cheesy puffs, and flipping through all their cable channels on the TV. I found the Independent movie channel, and spaced out on a pretty decent movie for a few hours. Then I decided to start drinking. I had a new fifth of Jim Beam that was calling my name.
It was about 3 p.m. when it was time for more daily bong hits. I was pretty well drunk by then. Neeva and Chaz came inside.
"I'm gonna have to fire you, and hire myself a real Mexican," Chaz said.
"Bleh." I said.
"You're drinking already? It's a little early isn't it?" Neeva asked, looking all sweaty from working in the greenhouse.
"It's never to early to get drunk," I responded.
Chaz laughed at me.
"Your pretty sexy little boy, you're my hero, take your panties off " he said, while coughing out smoke.
"So where's this nude beach you mentioned the other day Neeva?" I asked.
"It's some fag beach dude," Chaz said.
"No it's not Chaz, that's another one. You know that dirt road we take to the beach? Well before you get to the end, there is another dirt road, I think that goes to the right or left. I heard if u follow that all the way down it's over they're somewhere. But you have to hike through the bluffs to find it," Neeva said.
"I'm there," I said, hitting the bong.
"Dude, it's a fag beach, I'm telling ya," Chaz said again.
"Have you guys ever been to it?" I asked.
"No, we have just heard rumors about it," Neeva said.
"Man, I want to see some naked women, maybe I can get laid, now do I take a right or left on that road Neeva?"
"I'm not sure, I think maybe a left."
"Neeva, your gonna get him all lost and stranded on some fag beach."
"Shutup Chaz, let him explore if he wants to."
"I'm gonna try and find it," I said, throwing my whiskey and a few other things into my backpack. I saw a gigantic cricket hop across the floor as I was getting ready to go. It was a big ugly sucker, maybe the king cricket. I quickly squashed him into a pile of bug guts, and laughed.
"I dun told you boy, don't kill my pets," Chaz said, grabbing me in a headlock with his massive tree trunk arms.
"I'll kick your ass dickcheese, lemmee go," I said, struggling to get free.
Chaz and me wrestled around on the floor. I got a good slap in on his face. It seemed to piss him off. His big six foot 4 frame let out a stupid- roaring stoner like sound.
"You gonna get it now little bitch," he said, coming at me.
I ran around the pole barn trying to avoid him. If he got to close, I would give him another quick girly slap in the face, which just got him madder.
We knocked a few lamps over and smashed into some things.
"Chaz! You retard! Cut it out, go deal with the customers, I just heard some one honk! " Neeva yelled.
"Why can't you take care of it Neeva?" Chaz said.
"I took care of the last assholes, it's your turn now."
"Ya, go deal with your customers flower boy," I said, laughing at Chaz.
Chaz stumbled outside, and I sped off in my truck, hoping to find the nude beach. I took a left on that dirt road before the beach. I drove to the end of it and parked, about a 4-mile drive. I grabbed my backpack and started hiking over the mountainous bluffs, thinking I was headed in the right direction for the beach. I was pretty wasted, and must have hiked over at least 5 mountains through the woods by now. Still no sign of any water or naked beach. Mosquitoes started attacking my legs.
I stopped for a little while and looked around at my surroundings. I was so alone in the hands of Mother Nature, no humans anywhere. I pulled out my whiskey and took a few gulps. I was pissed off at the fact I couldn't find the beach. I started getting real horny, thinking of naked women swimming in the lake, with the sun beaming down on their tan breasts. I looked around the forest I was in, and decided to jack off. I had never jerked off before outside. I leaned up against a tree and began stroking. It wasn't working, I was to paranoid some mountain hillbilly from the movie Deliverance was going to suddenly pop out of no where and say,
"Lookie what we got here Hubert, a horny lil ripe piglet."
I zipped back up, and decided to head back to my truck before the sun went down. I had sort of lost track of time, and it was getting late. I thought I headed in the direction I had come from. But after hiking over 7 bluffs, I realized I had only hiked over 5 to begin with. That's when the panic set in. I suddenly realized what a fool I was. I began running around those woods like a mad man in circles, direction-less. Screaming "Oh shit!" Everything looked the same. I was drunk and completely lost. The crickets were about to have their revenge on me. That's when the sun started going down ever so slowly.
I was fucked. My mind had a million thoughts racing through it. I decided to climb up to the top of a bluff, and try and find some tree branches, some sort of wood to start a fire. It was rumored the ancient spirits of Indians haunted these woods.
The mosquitoes were having an all you could eat meal, swarming all over my legs. I kept slapping them off uselessly. I was out of breath, stumbling around gathering wood. My face all red, and blotchy. Luckily I had a flashlight in my backpack. The fact I had no water, started bothering my parched drunken mouth, my dry tongue licking my lips, sweat turning to body odor, hoping my lighter doesn't give out, trying to light this fire. Now I was never a boyscout, and had only been camping about 5 times in my life. So with out any lighter fluid, I fumbled around burning papers from my notepad on top of the tee pee like half ass woodpile I had gathered.
After some failed attempts, I got a good size fire blazing. There was a huge pine tree above the fire, and I started having paranoid thoughts of accidentally burning down miles and miles of wild life.
I took a big slug off my whiskey, even though I didn't feel like drinking anymore. I got that puke look on my face, yet told my mind to control the body, managing to hold it back. I needed water, like a cancer patient needs a cure.
The fire acted up, and I stared down at the grassy dirt, on top some mountain, little flickering sparks of red-hot crackling wood, snapping in my sun burned face. There were ants crawling on me. I started crying like a wuss. Why? I'm not sure, the tears came pouring down my face, and I yelled..
"Fuck!" So this is my fate, so this is how I'm going to fucking die, u whore, u son of a bitch!" I was all shaken, and lit a cig. Trying to accept my fate.
The mosquitoes were driving me insane. It was dark out, and I was alone with Mother Nature, ready to wither away in this nightmare. I just wanted a fucking piece of bread, some water. Then, at about 4 a.m., a plane was above, with its distant engine flying noises. And I looked up, and laughed for some reason, looking around at the empty woods around me, so high above the cosmetic world.
I tried jerking off again, but that wasn't going to work.
I curled up with my backpack, and tried to close my tired eyes next to the fire. I could have fallen asleep if it weren't for all the insane noises; all the wild creatures I had ignored my entire life, wanting me to give up. All the gigantic flying fang like bugs.
Then I remembered Chaz telling me the night before about all the wild bears in the area, and how they had mauled and eaten people to death, tourists, hikers, over the last few years. This thought just seemed to make everything worse, as every little noise became the enemy.. I couldn't sleep, I sat up, and the fire was almost dead, so I got up, and rummaged through those dark woods, with the full moon shining down, in search of more wood. I just wanted to be laying on Chaz and Neeva's couch, drinking water, eating ramen, stoned. I realized that I had taken everything in my life for granted up until to this point. I was only waiting for this moment to arrive.
I started mumbling things to myself… " ya, fuck you,. So I'm an asshole, and I've been an asshole my entire life!, so fuck you!, what right does that give u to torture me this way!"
I was a desperate man. I thought of my parents, I thought of my x girl friend, I thought of my cat, I thought of all the people who I had almost over dosed on drugs with, I tried to meditate, wanting all this to go away. I thought a lot for a change. I stumbled back to the half flickering fire, with some more wood, still weeping. I looked up at another plane passing over and screamed .. "HELP ME!, I am a fucking fool!, I have rejected everything in my life that was trying to help me!. I'm a useless piece of shit!. I'm fucking sorry, just give me some water!" I thought of dead friends and death itself.
No one responded, and I prepared for my expiration. I took another useless slug off my whiskey, hoping it would help, slapping my legs. Well, it didn't help, I now needed to vomit, to vomit out all the pissed off energy I had been building up in my soul. And I did, I puked harder then I had ever puked in my life, dry heaving mess of sickness in the middle of nowhere. Little did I know about exploding blood vessels in the brain. When I lifted my head up, there was a bear standing up on its hind legs, roaring like the beast it was, a big brown grizzly bear. I accepted my fate, and figured there were worse ways to die.
"Fuck u! Fucking kill me!" I yelled. I was ready for it to rip my flesh apart. But then, it just sat down next to me, staring at me. And I looked in its eyes, and I began to cry even more, it came up to me, and licked me with its massive tongue, on the cheek of salty tears. I reached a hand out to pet its big furry head, but it just ran off into the night.
I heard coyote's howling at the bottom of the bluff I had climbed, they knew I would die soon, and they were hungry bastards, waiting to move in. I flashed my flashlight down towards them, and saw a million glowing red eyeballs flickering back at me in that early morning darkness.
"Go fuck your selves! Come and get me, you hungry cunts! come on! I'm waiting, come get me!" I yelled, swirling my flashlight around. They didn't seem to move, their red flickering eyes, just sat there, howling, waiting for my flesh, down below.
I was to exhausted to try and get any more wood for the fire, so I just sat there, staring at the red hot wood, sizzling out. I lit a cig, and dry heaved some more, hitting my whiskey bottle.
" Fuck it" I mumbled to myself.
The sun came up. I had a can of shaving cream in my backpack for some reason, and I emptied the entire can out on the mountains side, spelling out in big letters, for the invisible search party in the cloudy planes, "HELP ME"
I headed down to the huge forest and began stumbling around, licking my lips, and trying to survive for some reason. I must hive hiked around for a good 9 hours, when I stopped, and took my sneakers off.
"Who needs shoes?" I said out-loud. I lay down, and tried to jerk off again, I'm not sure why, but I had this huge throbbing boner. It still didn't work. I looked at my legs, which were just big bloated red infected scabby bites of infection, from the mosquitoes.
I found a mud puddle, and fell into it; I grabbed a big pile of mucky mud, and stuck it in my mouth, hoping to get some water out of it. All it did was make me vomit more. Well, dry heave. So I drank the rest of my whiskey and walked/hiked/ directionally challenged. Small yellow buses. I couldn't believe how lost I was. Those woods were a million miles of infinity. I had know idea which direction to head. I carried on till the sun went down, walking, hiking, and losing my mind.
I lit another fire on top some mountainside, I had managed to climb.
This time, I had no energy left to try and gather wood again. I let the fire sizzle out, and lit my last smoke. I began to hallucinate. I saw things no man or women should ever hope to see. I heard voices that called my name in small whispers, that turned to yelling screams, behind those trees, behind those woods of darkness, something meant for only animals to hear and see was calling my name.. I began to think about my life some more, and everything that had led up to this point. I looked up at the sky, not even bothering to fight off the mosquitoes anymore. That cigarette tasted so good for some reason, even though it made me dry heave some more. I wished I had a joint of Chaz's skunky weed. I didn't want to die like this. But I couldn't go on any more. I thought about water, I thought about a toasted piece of bread with butter on it, I thought about all the tiny things I had always taken for granted.
I decided I should just try and relax, just let go, just become one with nature. I began humming some chants, and calmed down a bit. I was ready to die. So I took all my clothes off, and spread my body out for the vultures.
"You got me now, there is nothing I can do, nothing I can accomplish. Nothing. So I wasn't meant to turn 29. So I'm an asshole. The great jerk off king! I'm ready to die. And I have the last laugh!" I yelled, chuckling, dry heaving some more, staring out into spacey stars above.
I heard a cricket, a fucking cricket at this final moment.
"How fucking dare u!" I screamed
I managed to get up and try and find the cricket, completely naked. If there was one thing left on this earth for me to do, it was to kill this fucking cricket. I found him hopping round near the burning embers. I picked the little bastard up in my hands, very carefully, laughing.
"So, u are the cause of all this, are ya? Hmm, ? cunt!"
I was just about to throw him into the burning embers, when I heard a voice.
Or a being, or an entity. And I heard the sound of…
"ZZZZZEEEeeeeeee> "?" I dropped the cricket, and looked down the hill. Some American Indian looking like lady was making her way up the bluff, humming this haunting sounding rhythm. It was real dark, but I could see her, oh ya, I could see this thing clearly. She had wings that sprouted out of her back, monster sized yellow boobies, as far as I could make out, and she flew the rest of the way up the mountain. I just collapsed to the ground, near the sizzling burnt pile of wood. This thing was hideous and beautiful, it was built like a Greek god, with dark skin, and its wings were fluorescent green, long flowing dark Indian jet-black hair. An ass larger then all my old girlfriends put together. I was rolling around on the ground, in a psychotic mess, mumbling about cricket filled angels. The apparition sat next to my shivering body, and said… "You are pathetic, do you know that the human race has been suffering for milleniums, and all you can do is give up." "Who the fuck do you think u are?" I blurted back, coughing. "Who, and what I am, is not important to your survival. But what is important, is the fact that u come to terms with being a useless piece of shit, who has walked through life with a golden spoon shoved in his rectum." "Go fuck your self! I have suffered plenty; I've worked a million shit jobs since the age of sixteen! if I could, I'd piss on your self-righteous wings! Who the fuck do you think u are? I mean what the hell! you have no idea about me, or my life!" "Son, you hate your father, you hate your mother, you have been trying to live up to their meaningless standards for to long, and until u except this, until u can love yourself, you will always be lost." "I don't hate anyone, why should I bother living? If I'm a useless piece of shit?" "Because u know that dying in these woods is nobody's destiny, not even yours." For some reason, I wanted this being next to me, to tell me more, to hold me in her wings, to take me away to the sky. I wanted it to carry me to that lake Michigan and dip me in the water, and feed me barbecued burger meet, while we played guitar to the night's moon, and guzzled water. "So what am I suppose to do?" I whimpered. "That's entirely up to your own will. Seek beauty, even through all the ugliness." A sudden calmness came over me. And has been with me since, in between the bouts of rage. "Do you have any water?" It laughed at me, squeezing sweaty milk from its boobies onto the fire, killing the final hot embers. Then a blast of light shuttered around me. And this apparition shot into the sky like a rocket. It started raining, not just rain, but huge balls of piercing hail. I tried to catch these rain balls in my hands, and slurp on the wetness. The sun came up. I put my clothes back on, and started walking around again in those woods, with some new meaning to survive, that I wasn't quite sure of. I dragged my body around, backpack on shoulders, for hours and hours. Then I decided to give up again. I sat crying in those secluded woods, pulled out my notepad, a pen, and I scribbled down some final words that no one would ever read, a poem of sorts, to myself. And when I had finished it, when I had scribbled the last word, I thought of that American Indian freak like thing I had saw. And I wanted to live. I wanted to carry on, wanted love, so I walked, and I walked, and told myself to quit being such a pussy. And just when I was about to give up again, I saw a wooden post in those woods; I saw a sign, which said "bike trail" Like some miracle from nowhere. I fell to the ground, and cried some more. Then I got up, and I followed that bike trail for 15 more miles. I came to this swampy pond like puny lake. "Water….." I thought to myself. I ran towards this swamp, and dug my grimey sweaty hands into it, and began slurping this greenish like water. It tasted like fish piss, and I spit it out, swallowing a bit, and vomiting. I stood up, and saw a little cabin hide away, with no cars in the driveway. Little rich cottages hidden in these woods. I slammed my fist onto the doors, screaming. "Let me in!" There was no one there. So I broke a window with my fist, and climbed in. I tried to turn on the sink, for water, and nothing came out, but some broken pipe sound. I saw a phone in the kitchen, I picked it up, and there was no dial tone, so I decided to break things. I picked up the TV, and threw it through a window, I was laughing, crying, screaming. I began to punch in the walls, and rip everything apart, the couch, anything I could see. I tipped the empty fridge over, punching in all the windows, then I spread my blood all over the walls, spelling things out in a language I didn't know of. I went down in the basement of this little cabin I had found, and there was an old acoustic guitar just sitting there in a corner. Cobwebs all around. I picked it up, and began to strum; I began to sing a song about water, about food, about living, about ancient Indian haunted woods, as more tears poured down my cheeks. It all seemed in tune. A Cricket hopped around in that basement, and it almost seemed as if it were singing/ chirping to my melody. After about 20 minutes, I pissed on the guitar, and smashed it against the basement wall. I thought about squashing the cricket, but let it be. I walked out the front door, and headed back down the bike trail. I eventually got to a backwoods type freeway. It must have been about noon. I collapsed to the cement, and kissed it, as vehicles passed by, with staring scared eyeballs, the sight of me, must have been a scary thing to see. I started hitchhiking in the direction of Chaz, and Neeva's greenhouse, I hoped anyway. Trucks passed by; cars passed by, none of them stopping. I got mad, even madder then I was. I started flipping off the cars that wouldn't stop, the farmers, to busy with their lives to help, to maybe stop, and give me a ride. They had no idea. I decided my blood filled shirt wasn't helping my chances of catching a ride, so I took it off, and stuffed it into my backpack, wiping my bloody hands off with it. I had made it this far, and these fuckers weren't going to destroy me, after all I had seen. I sat down on the edge of the road, with my thumb still pointing out, when suddenly, a rusted family mini van stopped. The door swung open, and a lady with white pupils, said…. "Need a ride soldier?" The sun was beaming down, into my eyes, and almost blinding me, I managed a smirk, and stood up. I climbed into the back of the mini van. Her husband was driving, the lady with white pupils, an albino, was in the passenger seat. And I sat in the back next to their little ten-year-old daughter. "Where u headed?" the albino lady asked. "Umm, I guess back home, but I don't really have a home." I muttered. I could see the wife and husband eye each other, Probably thinking they had just picked up a mental case, which I was, at that point. I stared over at the little girl, and she handed me some apple juice she was drinking in one of those big gulp cups, I reached for it, with more tears pouring down my face. The albino lady turned around like an angel, and said, "Go ahead, u look thirsty, have a drink." I drank it all. And said "thankyou." Her husband kept eyeing me in the rear view mirror, but never said a word. I thought he looked stoned. "Umm, I'm staying at JellyStone gardens, with my friends." I said. "Jesus, we know Chaz and Neeva, we been buying flowers off them for years, that's almost 50 miles away, lucky for u, we are headed that way." The albino said. "Ya, thanks." I say. Albino asks.. "What were u doing all the way out here in the middle of nowhere hitchhiking?" Her husband's eyes are scanning me in the rear view mirror. "I'm not sure, I guess I got a little lost." "Honey, were all lost." The albino says, smiling at me. Her husband sort of snickers, and lights a smoke, as I stare out the window, taking in all the farm scenery. Everything seemed so precious now. Everything seemed to be different. It was as if I was seeing the world for the first time in my life. Not just seeing it, but feeling it. Their little daughter begins to sing along to the tune on the radio, and all I can do is stare at her innocent eyes, all I can do is cry with laughter. She had the same eyes as the Indian winged apparition. We don't speak another word for 50 miles. I feel the calmness, like a warmth of bliss radiating through my sleepy head. I was so hungry and life was huge. This story Copyright 2000 Nicholas Morgan. To the previous story | To the fiction list | To the next story