Uncle Drew's Lysergic Backbrain Apocalypse (Slight Return)
I came to the next day at home, fully clothed under a blanket. I felt like I was going to puke. I felt like every inch of my body was racked up beyond repair. I was thinking about tequila and Candi and Charlie Brown and how much I hated the Grateful Dead.
I dialed Bob up. He answered the phone like the gent that he was. “What?”
“Dude.”
“‘Sup?”
“How did I get home?”
“How did you think you got home?”
“I don’t know…I remember I was shooting the shit with you guys and I remember walking out in the living room and…”
“And…?”
“I dunno.”
“Do you remember fighting with Candi?”
“No…”
“You don’t, huh?”
“I remember she was with..”
“Yeah. Do you remember whipping out your dick?”
My blood ran cold. “No…”
“Do you remember beating the shit out of Ricky?”
“I beat the shit out of Ricky?”
“You caved his face in. He called you a fuckin’ dummy and you hauled off and started beating him and you showed absolutely no mercy. It took five people to pull you off him.”
“Holy shit.” I was shocked. And I was inwardly gloating.
“You know, Jeff’s not gonna let you back over---probably not for a while, anyway.”
No big loss, I thought. If I was going to have to compete for Candi with every swinging dick in town it wasn’t any scene I cared to be in on.
“Listen, dude---we’ve all forgiven each other for worse shit. Just don’t come around for a couple weeks. It’ll be cool.”
“Yeah---okay.”
“You on tonight?”
“No---I’ve got the next two nights off.”
“Maybe it’s for the better. Just chill and get some rest, okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll try and do that.”
“Catch you on Friday.”
“Yeah….you too.” He hung up. I sat there for a long time, thinking of Candi and Ricky and Charlie Brown and the Three Stooges and tequila.
I needed a lift. Bad.
C.F. Roberts is a writer, visual artist, videographer and antimusician living in Northwest Arkansas with his wife, writer Heather Drain and a small menagerie of animals. He published and edited SHOCKBOX: The Literary/Art Magazine with Teeth from 1991 to 1996. He sings lead for the rock band, the S.E. Apocalypse Krew while also commandeering his own industrial project, 90 Lb. Tumor. He most recent publication credits are in Fearless, Paraphilia, Pressure Press Presents, Crab Fat Literary Magazine, The Birds We Piled Loosely, Blue Collar Review, Corvus Review, Antique Children, and Guerilla Genesis Press. His book, The Meat Factory and Other Stories, is available from Alien Buddha Press.
