God Knows You’ve Tried (Parody of “Slide”) by ApologetiX

For God is not unjust; he will not forget your work and the love you demonstrated for his name by serving the saints — and by continuing to serve them.
Hebrews 6:10 CSB
https://bible.com/bible/1713/heb.6.10.CSB

Other verses with this theme:

Hebrews 4:15

Hebrews 6:9-10

Romans 7:15-8:2

Philippines 1:16

Proverbs 28:13

Lamitations 3:22-23

You can also check out God Knows You’ve Tried (Parody of “Slide”) by ApologetiX on Amazon Music
https://music.amazon.com/albums/B00QKML2JU?trackAsin=B00QKMLHOK&ref=dm_sh_xqVkveiXi11l4dVHjWywFvviO

One of Us Indeed (Parody of “One of Us”) by ApologetiX

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens — Jesus the Son of God — let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has been tempted in every way as we are, yet without sin.

Therefore, let us approach the throne of grace with boldness, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need.
Hebrews 4:14‭-‬16 CSB
https://bible.com/bible/1713/heb.4.14-16.CSB

You can also check out “One of Us” (Parody of “One of Us”) by ApologetiX on Amazon Music
https://music.amazon.com/albums/B00QKML2JU?trackAsin=B00QKMLNAS&ref=dm_sh_9qDOk2m1v5AVekNVT3q9Rlfzx

Effects Unknown

I remember kids playing in a gym all day long and the next day they wondered how they got sunburned.

UVlights in the gymnasium gave off rays that cook or burn the skin if exposed to for too long.

On a cloudy day many may think, “We have no need for sunscreen right?”

No, the uv rays still come thru.

So I pondered today a little bit…

How many things take place that we don’t even realize have a lasting effect. Sometimes a long lasting effect.

Enough said, Beetle

Psyper (my sons book)

I was able to copy Alexx’s online published book and paste it below. As per his final request, written before he die, “Don’t let my writing die with me.”

A note to my son, “I’m passing it on.”

Here are the two illustrations he hired an artist to draw for the book:

Without anything more to add I share with you now,

Psyper

In dedication to my father, Tom Bailey.

Chapter 1

I pull into a park and kill the engine; my head falls back and my blood shot eyes squint at a shadow. As the shadow falls closer my eyes jump open. I sit up and realize I’m crazed so I proceed out of the car. I stumble to the door ignoring the haunt of my doze, if I had even dozed. I walk on through my door. It wasn’t until I was staring at a gun in my mouth; it was then that I realized the door wasn’t locked. My dull vision couldn’t see past the gun. My mind wasn’t enrolling the menace binding my death. The delayed reaction of my brain questioned there even being anyone else. I dropped the gun. My lips drooled with laughter.

I had gotten good at it. When you first start it’s nothing more than walking around like some self-righteous basket case trying to prove that anything is possible, but over time you’re no longer one to make fun of. Your one they wish they could be. If you sat and watched an entire life of someone like me it’d be a lot like watching your child grow into adult hood. At first your kids perfect, every ones the same when there that young, no cruel horrifying accusations have yet to disturb their innocence and youth. Then the horrifying shit happens and you’ve got this pile of acne and angst just waiting to burst white goo all over your nice expensive house. When it finally does explode from its sick gooey remains a new child will be born. This “new child” who was once a mere kid will soon prove to you its own way in life. Now this is where things get messy. Most of these former pimples will more than likely find a nice paying job and live their lives content and happy. Others will make millions and do all they’ve ever dreamed. But a few never make it close. Most die young, some become lost causes, people like me… well we became the tiny army of cockroaches that would survive a nuclear war if given the opportunity. It’s this raw will power to fight for our rights and defend those who don’t have the balls to do so that keeps this tiny gathering of invincible roaches from being atomically blown away.

I wasn’t always this rugged. As a boy my days were the same as any others. Good parents, great home, more opportunities then one could ever imagine. As I aged life went through its curveballs I hit them as I could. Soon I came to be in this same world of opportunities with a desire for nothing. My days grew long but full of only horrid thoughts and no reasons to back them up. Trouble was around every corner in this new persona I had taken on. My mind never stopped to think about anything I just thought it, moved on, and kept going. When I did stop, it was only to breath or more sob at the depression I had no reason for. With all of this mania I could not sleep. The bags in my eyes accented the expression on my face reeking of worn out old sorrow. It was in these late sleepless nights my mind began to wonder. With an entire alternate universe of viral videos and mediated news articles at the tips of my fingers I was never bored. Reading of vandals and drug corporations seemed to bring back memories while reading of modern chivalry and new aged noble activists sparked new wonderings. With information of criminal records and news reports coming at every direction my mind became completely content and occupied.

Late one night in all the depths of my research I was interrupted several times before I had realized the screaming. It was coming from above. I knew it, those two never stopped going at it. As I started once again reviewing my organized data I heard it again but this time followed by a horrid sounding thump. I froze; silence for only a second to ponder then a frantic stumble toward the door. I moved; he was heading for the stairwell, the elevator was down as always. I slammed through the stairwell door, a clattering shuffled downward one flight bellow. Quickly I turned the corner throwing myself over the hand rail not even a foot in front of this man. Not a word came from his mouth as his mind repeated what he did till I interrupted with a strong grip to his collar. Taking a moment to breathe was all it took for the sweat to drip down my victims face. In all of these long endless nights all it took was one low life scum of the earth bad boy to really kick things off. All of my time spent looking into things was soon put to use; I became exactly what someone with my life would fear most. This mysterious occurrence of one man’s noble stand taken into his own hands was my new research, my new persona.

This day same as any other had started slow; a few eggs some smoke. Following the monotony of the morning I started my walk into the city. The day was nice; warm sun cool wind and an exceptionally nice vibe in the air. After a long while as I admired the day further I began to feel something. Deep within the confines of my thoughts I heard something, someone. There words like nothing from a human tongue spoke with utter distress. This meant something, what? I tried to unravel this wordless speech but the mere power of this oblong existence was too much to be known. My head began to throb and my vision tunneled as I fought for sound mind. A scream, this was nothing from my head I knew exactly what this was. I moved, two blocks a quick right and saw her. As I grabbed the bat disturbing its swing I yanked it back also sending the thug flying. The damsel was fine, I stopped. What the fuck just happened; as if it had never happened I doubted those voices. Yet I knew they had happened, it was more like my mind was trying to protect itself. As though my subconscious knew what was happening, like it knew who he was.

Chapter 2

After a long day out I sat on my furniture, television on. So deep in my thoughts I had yet to notice the screen I gazed so far into begin its flicker. A few moments ticked by when the power went out. This happened so often I didn’t even move. Apparently all that money we pay the landlord goes elsewhere instead of paying for this shit hole. As my thoughts began to drift they picked up the sound of electronics babbling on next door. There was a loud thud on the door that disgustingly reminded me of that night so many years ago. I made my way to the door slowly as I questioned even answering it. Unlocking the dead bolt and slowly opening my door causes the same creek every time but this time it was eerie. I only opened the door so far before it was swung abruptly at me dropping a body, it reeked. This person, eyes dried out and skin rotting had died months previous to now. A note hung from its neck holding one simple line: I’m in your head.

I never really slept anymore but lately the only few moments of shut eye I do get are filled with that body. When it’s quiet and the air is still I sometimes feel that horrid thud, yet no one’s ever at my door. My normal habits of researching put no rest to my wonders and not one sign of evidence could point me in any direction. The body so old and rotten left no traces of identity. There was not one stub of hair as if they were shaved from head to toe and the teeth had been torn out harsh. The note didn’t leave any finger prints or any clue as to where or how it was made, let alone who wrote it. I did not realize it had been an entire day all night and most of the next until I heard that classic cry for help. I moved, down the stairs out the back door and around the side of the building spotting the women crying wolf; she was alone. I stepped slowly in her direction asking if everything was okay. With no reply I stopped taking a closer look. Not looking into my eye I couldn’t see that hers were dried and gone until she jerked her head up looking directly at me. As she began to speak I flashed back to that voice and again my throbbing head began to tunnel my vision until I passed out.

I had not slept that good in a long time. They say a solid nine hours of sleep is a good balanced amount. I guess if you normally sleep two to three hours than a solid 12 hours knocked out, quite literally, had to be balanced. My thoughts on this deep sleep were not so much on the fact that I had rested so well but more mortified from how content I really felt. As I sat and pondered on that thought my dreams came back to me. The air crisp and silent filled with bright and sunny fields of flowered grass. The content I felt from my dream showed as the quite exact silence before the storm continued. Within moments a grey tint in the sky began to almost mold into a deep green color reminding me of myself as I turned green and my stomach turned over. I spit up this thick mash that melted its way through the floor. The ground beneath my feet made me weary as I sunk through this ever growing hole in a once happy place now curdling over. For moments I fell till a dumpster caught my fall. I struggled my way up through the contents of this human waste. Gasping for air and a moment to regain myself I began to realized the aged eyeless bodies filling this dumpster. After it really hit me, this horrid smell, I began to again vomit. This time the acidic puddle I created was not melting through my foundation it was doing just that to my skin. I watched myself melt away slowly again morbidly content.

Chapter 3

At this point my few eggs and monotonies of the morning had been slept straight through. Flopping onto my couch checking my usual sites of research only made me sick. I had become hesitant to make my way through the city. My work had somehow made it into my home and more directly into my head. As I gathered my conclusions and weighed my possible solutions I walked to my fridge and grabbed a beer, bottoms up. Forty five minutes, eighteen beers and a few grams later I smirked. My once hesitant mind was ready to wonder the streets of the night, but for once with no business intended. I stumbled two blocks, vomited and entered the bar. The bartender handed me a beer I stared for a moment pondering as she laughed informing it was on the house. My dry throat no longer scratchy I slurred thanks and hiccuped. Unexpectedly, instead of continuing her day she began to small talk questioning my identity implying she hadn’t seen me around. Almost laughing through my smirk I pronounce, if I told you I’d have to kill you. Her face lit up when she smiled telling me her name.

My head hurt and nausea filled me as I rolled over. Sometimes the only reason I even got up was due to my addiction. I didn’t even get out of bed for my usual morning walk; I just lit up right there. I smiled thinking of the cliché breakfast in bed. As my mind continued its first thoughts of the day I could not remember my night which reminded me of why I stopped going out like that. Then I remembered something, the bartender. Becoming content this time was not like the last. This time it was good, no faint weary nausea besides the haunt of my hang over which for some reason seemed worth having. As if I was thankful to be sick only because of that which made me so, As if it was that one too many that I owed thanks to for bringing me to meet her.

A scream rattled my brain disturbing my thoughts. I moved, passing room 306 and 307 then kicking making my way into room 308. I spotted the screamer kicking for any hope that it would keep the thug away. Grabbing his hair from behind and throwing him backward into the wall only took a second as I kneeled down in front of him hunched over against the wall. I again grabbed his hair pulling his head up to make eye contact. At this point I would usually rap up my business with a few words of wisdom hoping to maybe teach these thugs a lesson or two. This time was different, this time I wanted him to hurt. As I looked deep in his eyes making him wonder what I would do I spoke, but only to say a short and sweet “fuck scum” before my fist was lodged in the wall directly behind his head.

Chapter 4

My usual habits that for the last few nights I had seemed to avoid came back. I could not sleep; when my eyes were closed I could only see my victim fearfully begging for mercy. When I wasn’t trying to sleep whether I was watching television or doing my research I was only thinking of how I felt when I washed his blood off my hands, That hatred that pure evil shown was not like me. That was exactly what got me in this mess in the first place. People that did things with that intent were exactly who I was getting rid of. I began to drink again. My intent was to go out as I did the previous night but that plan soon became to pass out drunk during my “pre-game”.

When you wake up hung over, face imprinted into your toilet seat, you don’t really wake up. I almost rolled around my apartment trying to find my pack. My legs were made of plastic as my patience grew thin then the realization came that I had ran out of my addiction and my fiend since of life was still ever present. I didn’t even put on shoes as I made my way to the corner drug store. I thought back to my youth when I hadn’t yet been eligible to legally acquire my own smoke. Then my thoughts made their way into the next mindless set of thoughts finding the closest way to correlate my back tracking to child hood with my lingering thoughts. I could not fully comprehend these next thoughts so closely in bloom. I had stepped, perfectly terrible, onto a shard of glass. I wasn’t sure if I was angrier that I had decided to go shoeless into the city or at the prick who decided to throw there glass in that particular spot. It was during this second thought that I came across the fact that the glass in this particular place was beneath my towering building and as my eyes followed up the wall to my window, shattered, the beer bottle in my foot became the same bottle that ever so ironically early ended my previous night. This was strike two of three and there are baseball players on every corner, I was bound to lose my cool as I left blood prints down the sidewalk behind me.

I had managed to make it to and from my destination as I strolled by the bar. I hadn’t planned to stop until I ran into a poll, the bartender that had distracted my vision and caused my collision also so perfectly made my cheeks red. As I regained consciousness I did what I knew best and began to move. A quick burst around the building was all it took to get me where I could breathe. As I caught myself I began to realize that I had just booked it to run away from a women and a bartender at that. I thought I could have been crazy for running, yet as I regained the thought of talking to her I vomited. At this point I was not completely sure if I was just hung over or if this really was one of those cliché moments. Then I thought about the vomit on my beer bottle foot which made me smirk; now that’s cliché. A smell filled the air pulling my eyes up from my thoughts; that smell, that rotting smell. My vision began to tunnel ever so slowly and then my body fell backward and as though my soul had made its way out I watched those rotting bodies of my haunt eat away at my skin.

Chapter 5

I jerked myself awake as cold sweat made its way out of my dreams. It was then that I realized where I was. I had never seen this side of a bar, I thought about the joke my father would have made about kids in candy shops and smirked for a minute losing myself in thought. Then she came making bar stains and the smell of old liquor seem almost sexy apologizing for the mess she was made of. In my head I was calculating what to say when in reality I was making some stupid face as she smiled looking at the floor to break eye contact. She was explaining the fact that if she brought every drunk from out back into her bar she’d end up running a soup kitchen and I was still trying to figure if she was joking when I choked. This was twice now I had been unable to respond to her and she was showing such hospitality. I made a sentence out of the best words I could find in such a short amount of time to explain how sorry I was for everything and to get me out of the situation as fast as possible. In other words I would have made less of an ass of myself ripping all my clothes off and running out of there screaming something about my genitals.

Once I had made my way down the block I stopped thinking of the bartender and ran directly into a baseball player, strike three. My foot, which I had now realized was bandaged up, was also coated in a warm layer of stank ass dog shit. On days like these it’s the small things that make a big impact and this town was just fool of small things. Then again I began to think of how my mind, as if it were a shrink ray, made baseball playing miniature fucks everywhere I went. But regardless of who’s got the shrink ray, everyone knows three strikes means you’re out. So it was on this note I decided to continue my alcoholic endeavors of the last few days. As I drank I glanced away from my television noticing my desk. I felt as though I should see cob webs and vines growing throughout the mess. I was only working on my third day without patrol and yet it felt wrong as if I were abandoning my work, I hadn’t in years taken even one day off. Then I thought about how in years I hadn’t even taken one day off, which made three days sound like a lot less.

It was that thought and an empty fridge that convinced me to go out. As I made my way to the bar I remembered the idiot I made of myself and decided to go elsewhere to get my alcohol and to then take it home. I was almost to the store when the air grew still and a scream filled my ear. I considered my three day vacation till I thought about it for a moment. This moment was just long enough to drag me the direction of the scream. While I hadn’t ever abandoned someone in need I had also never helped someone intoxicated. My usual speed around corners and up blocks was sluggish as I reached the distressed screamer. I had taken care of the issue quite quickly despite the slightly sloppy strut in my walk. It was at this moment, thugs running off into the distance, sun setting into her face, that I realized who I had saved. It was the bartender. As she approached after her thanking she questioned what happened earlier. As words made their way out I thought more about the fact that I was sure the liquor was talking for me then what I was saying and the next thing I found myself doing was walking her home. As we made our way and continued to converse I thought about how good brandy was with words.

We had made it to her bar which she so conveniently lived above. I began to make up some excuse about my apartment as if it would miss me if I was not home soon. She just smirked and insisted I have a drink. At this point it would just be rude to not except a drink and was this not what brought me out in the first place. As we sat and continued our time together I had lost track of the drinks I felt I’d be rude to not take. We had both had more than the amount we needed and stumbled our way out of her bar and into her home. With the amount of drink in our systems we could have been taken to the hospital and gotten pumped together, which I thought would have been a great date but she had other things in mind as she began her seductive ways. The perfection of the night could not have gotten better, but on the contrary, it could have for certain gotten worse and it did. There was that horrid thud haunting its way back to me. My distraction from the moment could not have been missed as my eyes sunk into the door and when my obligation to it was noticed I was asked what was wrong. I did not respond as I made my way to the door, slowly opening it. I peered at the floor expecting another body and right before my eyes made their way to the end of the hall way I saw him. I booked my flight down the stairs with full intent to catch who ever I had seen. As I gained on the figure tackling and grabbing hold of its solid shape it melted threw my grasp and between the floor boards just in time for my previous in devours to catch up. I could not imagine how she felt about this; I could not even comprehend what she was saying before I frantically made my way out of the bar. I didn’t leave her much explanation besides the fact that I had to go.

Chapter 6

It had become as though another night on the ropes. My eyes red and dried up in my skull were gazing into some far region in space. Hands shaky and knees trembling down to my toes were what carried me ever so frantically to god knew where, and that was where I saw it. Pausing, only for a moment to then make my way down the alley way, the walls melted dark into the ground where the figure like shadows met with my feet pulling me in. I begin to be engulfed drowning myself. He pushes me into what felt as a brick wall, the wind now gone from my lungs fell out of my mouth and led my eyes into it. Squinting I tried to make out a face, it hurt. Then she spoke as though to seduce me but before my ears could hear his rough voice ripped its way through my ear drums producing smoke out of my mouth. My head fell back as his words melted out the back of my skull and through the wall. It became as one of those nights when one is so ready to sleep, as my eye lids melted together I felt a voice hit my ears, human.

Hospitals have this smell. It reeks of dying people, faintly right there under your nose. You half make yourself believe it’s not there but really your just hoping to God it will end soon. Then as your mind moves on and you forget of the smell you have this thought. It’s something about pain or more the pain in one from another’s pure sorrow. The sorrow that reeks like a hospital; dead sorrow. Is it that you feel pity for them or that you see yourself dying just as them, it’s only so long before you too reek. Just as it is only so long before the smell returns, hospital smell; my eyes opened and the nurse jumped, apparently she had been waiting. As she rushed out the room white robes returned. He didn’t even look at me; I guess the screens can tell him enough. Quite frankly that was fine with me for I was not sure I could do so myself. All I could think was that I needed to be home. I had avoided this for too long to end up here. The doctor helped me up as I insisted to use the restroom making my way past him and down the hall. I picked up my speed, for this would certainly call for a great amount of force, as I leaped curling through the window. A dumpster was two stories below and somehow I managed to miss it landing on what must have been the doctor’s car. I could hear the car alarm still blabbering on in the distance as I made it to my building. Sitting on the curb I sighed flopping on my ass to light a faggot. Then I chuckled, thinking about smoking a gay guy, and decided to stick with smoking my squares.

I always considered a cigarette almost as a five minute break from the world. Although while most would hang a sign to insure their return when they have finished there break I had not even left which had managed to put me in her path. As the bartender caught my sight I imagined how I looked running from her wondering if I even had my pants on before chasing the dark. Then as she approached, expecting her disappointment in me, I was surprised by her worried eyes. I had not yet seen the mummy those white robes had made of me or began to make before I ran off unattended. She didn’t even ask what happened as she grabbed my arm. Her warm hand sent chills through mine and down into my back where her other hand was helping me up. I don’t know how I told her where I needed to go, I’m not even sure I told her what floor I lived on let alone my room number. That was the least of my worries or rather should I say another thing among all the things that didn’t matter at this moment. I then heard her voice informing something that inferred if she knew I was running off to get into this much trouble she would have surely chased after me. I insisted chasing after someone like me should not be any of her worry but before I could finish she made it clear that she did not need permission as she kissed me. Her lips sizzled across the surface of mine slowly burning its way to the ends of my hair. Inside I cried as I went on auto pilot. It was as though I was crammed up in my locker of a body listening to these words come out of my mouth. Words that I knew weren’t what I wanted, cold hard lies. Blabbering on about what ever dumb excuse I could think of quick enough to make me, again, look like an ass. I could see it in her eyes, the sorrow reeking for that split second before she gathered herself in a fuss and walked to my door way. Turning around she stared for a moment as though to make sure I was listening then insured me she would be close behind next time, making sure I knew she meant her sly comment about chasing me into the dark.

Chapter 7

This had been such a terrible day, I thought as I slumped over in my glum. My tired and uncharted mind was filled to the brim and spilling all over me. It made a mess but was soon washed away with a flood of tears. I had not cried in some time due to the troubles I had with my emotions. Although the time I had spent without this embrace of emotion had only made this moment in its own way spectacular. As the tears ran to one last drip and my face was half dry I began to think. At these moments, tired and lost, thinking can become weary. I knew it was crazy to think what I did. She appeared in my thoughts interrupting the past. My mind could not completely grasp what in the world she was doing in my apartment, I most certainly did not expect her Novocain kiss. It was not so that I disliked this but rather wanted it from the moment I met her in her excellence, being so nice to me. I had yet to even meet her before she offered me a drink. This was nothing when in comparison to inviting me into her home. Then I thought about my horrible up n’ go. This was the grand finally when she strolled by at quite the perfect time as to see me and speak nothing of those moments only a few hours at most in the past. My thoughts of her stopped as if my subconscious worked to protect me. I had her safety in mind as I thought about my predicament, my work. Then I stopped once more but this was nothing of my subconscious I knew why I stopped. I had such a horrible thought at this point, those of death and my recent haunt. Honestly, this was nothing I could explain nothing I can hide from. Where does one go to get away from their mind?

When the sun seeps in through the holes in your old sheets hung as curtains it is bound to spark your awakening. As it did so to me I rolled over to see the mid-morning clock on the counter, next to it was what I was looking for. I found my lighter in my pocket implying I had passed out quite unexpectedly. As I lit up I exhaled and closed my eyes. Nothing, pure black eye lid backs and it was nice. I thought about what I would do today, about the bar tender. I also took my haunt into consideration as I noticed my desk rotting in the corner of the room. For the first time in a long time I could not believe I was thinking this, but I was. I was afraid or more terrified to think of all this. Yet this was my life, I had nothing but these few taunting things. The grief taking over my once great morning was upsetting so I did what I thought best at the time and shrugged my shoulders.

Chapter 8

I flipped through channels only staying on one for no more than 20 minutes, honestly though, I had unplugged the clock and was only estimating this. Hours went by before I thought I could eat. I went to my fridge, as I opened it I found ketchup and what I thought might be old pizza. My eyes scrolled up the shelves to see no other sign of food. What I did find plenty of was pleasing enough so I grabbed a beer and went back to my bed. This was my procedure for quite a chunk of time when I heard something. Half of me knew what it was and the other half ignored it. I did not want to tend to my usual helpings; I was not so ignorant as to expect I would not find more then someone in need but very possibly my fears. My care for the screaming no longer mattered, I thought so long of what to do that I no longer had a choice. This made me think of why this person had stopped there cry for help, I was rather sure she was not helped due to the lack of justice in this town. I was unpleased with the thoughts following and changed the channel. As my mind tuned in with what had come on I finished the fuzz at the bottom of my bottle. I would have thrown it out my window as I do sometimes if I had not hit my foot on the bed frame. I limped to the fridge dropping my old and replacing a new reaching a whopping fuck ton of beers on the wall, or more the ground.

There are those nights when you guzzle down so much so fast you become prone to pass out. Then there are nights when you’ve become enriched with your smoky lungs and you are more so full of liquid than anything else. Your seal has been broken long ago but your fifteen minute increments almost become your clock as you take a piss for the umth time. As I left the bathroom I maneuvered me feet toward the bed somehow making my way in the direction of my desk. Once I sat I pondered in my lack of sobriety staring at my workings. I remembered hearing that scream God knows how long ago and felt it now more than ever. Letting myself go to waste, in my apartment locked up all safe, and leaving them so in need on the street corner. My eyes became half full or more half empty with tears, I sobbed only for a moment. The desk rattles as my head intrudes upon my pillow of papers. I slept there that night, happy and content.

Chapter 9

Beer perfectly caressed in hand with a puddle of drool still dripping from my face I arose. Sun trickling in showing the next day I grabbed at my ashtray; I had left overs for breakfast: an opened beer and a short. As I curled up in my bed the cherried ash from my lightings had fallen catching flame to my sheets. Not a fret was made as I poured what was left of my beer making smoke of the flames. Now ready to move I ruined my comfortable cave. As I crawled from my tomb I made a quick stop at the fridge and straight to the shower. The warm water felt like hands making dough of my skin leaving me there to bake in a hot oven of steam. Cold went from my bottle all the way through me into my stomach leaving a cool sensation at every inch or so up my back into my neck, this was where I lost myself in a dose. I had slept there lucid dreaming all along while my door was knocked upon. They stayed for some time banging frequently, I could hear her. When my name was said from her lips it sounded bitter sweet disrupting my train of thought, I sighed slowly wasting time before I turned off the shower. Making my way to the door all wrapped up in my towel made me unpleasantly cold. Looking through the peek hole in my door I could see her turning down the hall and running down my apartment floor naked while sounding fun did not seem like the appropriate thing to do, or did I just not want to cope, was I afraid? Back to my fridge kicking bottles in every direction I grabbed one of the many and made my way to the window leaning on what was left of it; inhaling just to exhale and take a sip or two, this was my plan. It was going rather nicely and then I noticed her. On the corner siting head in hands sighing I could hear her faint sob tears making dots among her feet.

Shoes on my feet this time making way around the building paper bag in hand she spots me pretending she didn’t. I made my way to her stopping where she could see my feet. Slowly as her head rose the sun caught a tear on her cheek making it contrast with the sea in her eyes. Grabbing my held out hand she stood wrapping her arms around me. Drying her eyes on my shirt I tell her it’s okay if she wipes her boogers declaring there’s already a few of my own down there. I felt her smile on my chest as I sigh, coming back from my day dream, my cigarette flew into the streets bellow.

Now trapped ever more in my prison of an apartment with no bars to stop me from leaving, only me myself and my sick since of comfort sat alone surrounded slowly by more and still more, cold foamy, bottles. This could have gone on for days as I proceeded to seal my windows from light. I found every little way to not let anything in or out of my dwelling. Once I was truly secure, completely isolated, I made my way to my fridge. Opening to only find I was bone dry. Looking around at my exits I sighed only to then remember my whiskey, I had not touched my stash in years leaving it to cobwebs I had nearly forgotten let only even sipped on it in sometime. Proceeding to my hidey hole I found plenty to still my discomfort, a glass was not needed as I sipped the bottle shaking my head and wrinkling my face at its bitter. Satisfactory and content I wondered around my apartment almost dancing to the music I had made up on the go in my head. It made its way through my mind and out each ear into the air around me yet it was only so long before I began to again take into thought how long it had been, it was only the liquor lessening that reminded me just how long it really had been.

Chapter 10

My head hurt, I looked around for my mornings beginning. Passing by all the bottles I found one saying whisky reminding me I had even had one let alone found my stash, I noticed the sip left in the bottle realizing I had over done myself; had it really been that long as to make me do something as naive as I did. Almost to prove myself better I dug into my hidey whole again this time filling a small glass. I wasn’t completely sure what I was doing, it had become that unplugging your clock was all it took to stop time, when I heard knocking barley making its way through the barriers I had made. Staring only for a moment I began to repeat what I had heard from the other side of the wall. They knocked, I knocked and as they knocked again, my knock following, I laughed. After a moment, as I heard the footsteps leaving, It came to mind that I had probably just done this to her. I felt as though my heart dropped and my eyes sunk into my head, drunk, I curled up into a ball.

Finding out I had fallen asleep I was woken up by it: that thud haunting me as before but this time making a heartbeat of its own. Becoming a steady rhythm it taunted me, I felt it inside my head rattling my skull. Crawling to make my way somewhere this would not be taking place my hands and knees fell more and more into the ground beneath me. Sunk to my shoulders I was picked up from the neck sobbing. He had come back in even more of a shape then before as though every time it crept its way by he made himself ever more horrifying and cruel. As this made my sobbing proceed my tears became acidic burning their way through my cheeks. This did hurt but he had made its way slowly into my neck to make me choke as his Edward scissor hands tightened their grip. I knew I would die, I considered if I had already dropping to the floor as he became mist making his way through my barricades. I lied there half-awake, half-asleep crying inside and out still in the ball I had curled up into before. Then as I drowned myself further into my sleep I took flight into a depth so sweet leaving my body to sleep.

With my sauced since of mind, which seemed almost physically not here, I began to reminisce of my father. The crazed since he had made of his work and how it quite literally came back to gnaw on his ass. Parts of me, as they always had, questioned why I followed his work after the accident. What dwells in someone deep enough to make them continue a generation of mistakes. This, making me thinks of alcoholism, made me wonder why I as so many others drank threw the sorrow. Being a depressant we all knew it would make things worse yet we self-medicate regardless. Maybe I was addicted, had I been so deep into this mess that I was truly not able to live without or had I just cared enough, if not more, for others than myself. Realizing my drift my attention was brought back to my father. I had forgotten I still had my body until I felt my eyes flooding, I missed him. Avoiding these thoughts seemed to be the only thing keeping me still in my line of work but this time they fought back finding their way deeper into my mind.

Chapter 11

Young and resilient he made his life very clear, not to others but to himself. There were more people in the world caring of their needs, of their safety, then of others and it was unsettling. It became of that thought and of others agreement that the decision was made. After years of making enemies there had been years following in which they found their way back. Making it apparent that what goes around can come around even if it were good. One would feel undefeatable if there mind made them feel that way but if one was undefeated this was proof, was it not? It was in this self-confidence he thrived, it made him feel strong and put those thoughts in others minds also. Yet as stubborn as people had gotten, or had always been, they to gained confidence. To some it did not matter if there was proof, it was not needed. Self-evidence was enough to give them strength and in turn prove others as they themselves so positively knew.

It was the homicide of my father that had giving enough proof for one to be content with their constant failure. It was also this that had driven my need to continue what he had done. Like a gateway drug opening its gates to my addiction. I didn’t acknowledge when I had entered this gate or if I could ever find my way out I had only found myself deeper and deeper eventually loosing this once known exit. Now only hoping I wouldn’t find this to be my death I thought more intently wondering how much I hoped of this, how much I really cared.

I became so crazed of that wonder, of my question to truly live or die, chuckling at thoughts on one’s normal live or die moment. Of how one must live and not die but more so of how my abnormality brings me to die and not live. As this thought dawned on me and continued to set over the horizon of my truly sick mind I drove a knife into where I thought my heart would be. It was harder than I had imagined, puncturing through a rib; I had torn through a face with my bare hand no problem. Maybe it was my subconscious holding me back but regardless of it all I was dead.

Chapter 12

These knocks traveled through my door making me think of how I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to deal with another living thing right now and this thought was what regained my attention towards the fact that I was dead. Dead people don’t question if they should answer their door, there fucking dead. Feeling around for my self-made stab wound that didn’t exist I smirked at that old depressing thing people say when they themselves fail as I did. Thinking of how I couldn’t even kill myself right was interrupted by the door again knocking. It continued like this for a while. I talked to myself, the door knocked with an off-beat reply, and I’d go right on with what I was saying. It became as though the door was infuriated with my ignorance to its constant interruptions causing it to scream louder for my acknowledgment. Yelling back finally at this inanimate object and then realizing I had lost it, I got up to answer the door.

Standing with pissed the fuck off written all over her she spoke not one word. Thinking of how I should explain the obnoxious gap between her arrival and my decision to answer the door I started to wish I never did. This silence and my un-assurance of what I would do from here were both present for quite a while before I decided to speak. With my scratchy excuse for a voice I put together something about how I tried to kill myself. The look on her face went from petrified to complete and utter confusion as I corrected myself welling about how I thought I did. Realizing the fact of the matter I had made became that of completely unwanted conversation about things one couldn’t even explain to themselves I shut the door. This time I didn’t even get to speak before the door began to complain again.

Opening my window I planned my escape down the building. As I made my way in any direction away from my building the soars that became my eyes almost melted at the realization of how bright the sun used to be before I stopped coming out here. Considering that she was at my door and figuring I could beat her to the bar and be gone before she showed up I concluded with my need for a drink. Looking at me funny and going to grab the six beers that had been ordered to be brought to me at once, this want to be bartender only saw me for another few seconds to pay before I again left. Six beers, one trip to the liquor store, and a bottle of vodka later I had not even realized I was locked out until my door would not open. It was this moment, realizing the only person I even remotely talked to was also the person I just scaled my building to get away from, that I realized how stubborn I really was. My door became the back of my chair until I mustered the balls to go to her.

Asking if I had come to apologize and continuing with the debate of the fact if she’d even accept it I explain how I had locked myself out with no answer to her question. She was not sure if she was mad at the idea of how I locked myself out or if she liked the horrible time I had with confrontation. I thought about how she must have a thing for low life, antisocial, idiots who lock themselves out of the houses they never leave due to the fact that she let me stay. Considering I was going to be with her anyways she decided to share her plans for the night. I had never dropped anything while I was this drunk but one does not turn down free hallucinogenic opportunism or at least I knew this was not in my moral conduct. I’ve always thought it was rude to not except what was given to you especially when it was something this person does not just give away to just anyone or when it was something that fucked me up.

We were talking of intergalactic politics at our tea party with the president of nowhere, a few dinosaurs, and this extremely short half man half bunny for a while before we realized this was not tea at all. In fact we had been drinking cups of extremely small and innocent liquid creatures. Due to our complete and utter sickening of continually ransacking these nice little worlds of our new friends we decided to free them. Pouring what was left of our newly declared tea people all over the room we also decided it wouldn’t be right to keep all of those tea babies in the wombs we had left in the cupboard. Now with tea, before and after the brewing, strewn all over the place this sound visibly began to defuse its way through the room; it was either this or the smoke making a fog in the room that we dug our way through like moles. After exploring every inch of dirt we could the bartender found a portal at the end of her latest tunnel.

Making our way through the worm hole we reached the other side of the stairs entering what I was pretty sure was heaven. The walls were made of racks of liquor even the long counter filled with taps were made of liquor and kegs. My eyes continue to look around in awe till they caught the bartender in all of her beauty. From head, to toe, to her hand offering me a beer I found myself falling in love. Being quenched had me so content I became ok with drinking our tea people’s distant family members, this made her laugh; of course it may have been the show the furniture began to present. The chairs were dancing around their tables to the thick musical gas that had made its way into the room. They circled and circled dancing all about until the song ended causing them all to jump into their spots and with the beginning of the next song they continued their previous in devours. We found ourselves to be Indians beginning to dance our way beat by beat around the room.

Chapter 13

The night had continued through its transitions in and out of peeks for quite some time until we found ourselves in bed. The bartender now lost somewhere between the covers and her sleep I was alone with my thoughts. It was these nights, coming down and restless, that had thoughts cluttering my empty dome of a skull. Thinking for the first time in a while about my desk; my work. This became worse than any of the thugs I’ve swept the streets with. There were some real scumbags in this world that made some real damage and yet they were no match for me; but this, these thoughts, they had me loosing. Had I finally in my lack of justice beaten my addiction, had I found my gate? Or rather, had I abandoned my beliefs? I was not even sure what I believed in at this point until I heard a scream almost seemingly queued from my script of a life.

Out of the sheets, past the stairs, a door and a block later I found my hand holding him. No longer could he hurt, rob, or rape this ally way of its innocence. His victims face resembling all the other’s after I had done my job was the finishing touches to this cliché reuniting moment. Making my way back to the bar and into my previous sleeping quarters I found myself drifting contently and ever so suddenly into sleep.

Waking up to an empty bed I soon found the bartender put to work and left her to do such making my way home. Thoughts were based solely on my desk cluttering in my head so much so it did not fit correctly. This caused my legs to gradually find themselves moving faster with every step. Steps quickly became strides and not long after it was as though I was appearing every so often closer and closer to my door. If I had gotten any more intent with my once walking I may have gone right through the door. Instead I smacked my face into it. For a moment I thought of that slight stick paint has as I felt my skin pull its self from the door.

Door still locked glaring ever so deviously back at me I heard a voice. The bartender approached with this sexy little strut of hers and I was trapped, pinned between her and that damn door. Flashing before my eyes I pondered at all the times this door had done me so likely as this. Interrupting my narrations with something of her assistant or something more rather about her getting off early, I thought to myself how early she really had gotten off it being only the wee hours of the morning. Offering to invite her in I ran into my door once again finding it locked. Taking a moment to look at her, eyes catching each other, my foot proceeded through the door. Tripping over some empty bottles and muttering I’d fix it later I invited my guest to enter. Seeing what mess I had left made me think I was obliged by law to inform her not to enter, or at least to say a measly caution then I thought I heard her say this place should be condemned before I realized she hadn’t spoken. When she finally began to I felt nauseous, smiling the bartender asked me if I had a bottle that wasn’t empty. As quickly as my finger led her eyes to the quarter of a bottle on my dresser she had slurped it all down. Tossing the bottle made an awful clatter among the others as I heard through it all the sly comment of one more for my collection.

It had turned out that I in fact had a lot more bottles that hadn’t been completely emptied. For what seemed of as hours we found holes filled with hotel liquor in my walls, wines cluttered throughout canned goods, and we even scavenged a few full beers hidden in the empties. Creating our own language between gulps alternating hand to hand we became bottomless pits, our stomachs as though their own little brewing companies. I don’t remember vomiting, I don’t remember passing out, but I very well remember waking up.

Chapter 14

Finding myself strung out in this no doubt abandoned crummy excuse for a home I could not remember what happened last night let alone where on earth I had ended up. With a slight limp making my way through this shit-hole something came to me. A haunting horrid thought had made its way into my skull just as I had made my way back home, back to childhood. Something was moving in the other room, quietly, I made my way towards the door hiding this sound. That cold eerie feeling dripping from my ears and tingling down my spine, the door creeks as though it were built on a horror set. Now with a clear view the rat scatters into this piled room. A reeking smell curdled my nose hairs as the buzz of gnats filled my ears. And then mingled in between this junk yard of a room, eye-less and rotten, I spotted the body. Watery and swelling from the stench my eye’s caught the note stuck between its rigor mortis hand. Suddenly there was no smell, no sound. From right to left my eyes began to tremble through what my hand barley was holding due to its horrendous shake. This was that grimy, ill forsaken feeling I had learned to ignore. Thawing my numbness to it all I continued reading my father’s words. There was not one single letter that did not curve like his, not one single “t” crossed incorrectly and from it all, I wept.

Arriving back to my cave I found the bartender slumbered in my sheets. Making my way quietly, as to not wake her, I approached my desk. Sitting in my chair, that comfy imprint and its worn character, was rewarding finally bringing me back to my work. Then Just as it had brought me my peace it had awaken my distractions squeaking its age. With her raspy morning voice spilling out stale breath I found myself in doubt of how my work would proceed. Her voice was not what I heard when those lips moved, I could only hear my own voice echoing through my head. This had become a reoccurring event, would I find myself drifting further and further from my work? How far had I already gotten? Now drifting from the noise coming across from the other side of the room my eyes glared into what I had found. The echoes now making their way out of my mind and into thin air I shouted. Breaking down every little curse and every little figment of my overloaded mind the bartender was startled more than upset and scurried together to leave. One last glimpse of her eye was caught as she left, dripping of confused sorrow.

Blind to what I had done I began to read, going over and over what was written on this morbid piece of paper. I could hear his voice, my fathers, yet he spoke of things not like himself. The dark linger in his sentences fed its way into my weary mind as I read those words, those three, simple, fucked up words: It was him. I knew him and these occurrences my dad speaks of with their cries of wantless help I also knew them. Speaking of holes so dark, endless, leading into where once there was and should still be brain. Dead people don’t talk but dead souls? It was all this and more that dragged me in. Could I not follow this case fallen so perfectly into my hands and yet almost propped being filled with my life so well.

Chapter 15

I did not drink. I’m not talking AA meetings; there was not one drop of liquid in me at this point of dehydration. Breathing for cops could be done with ease at this point of parchment, not to mention the cotton my mouth had become from these cigarette butts all over. The paper I had come across was a whole new piece of art by now, single circled words several times in different colors. It all added up quite mathematically yet none of it made since. Whether it were the morbidly detailed scratches of him on my walls, the words carved within the confines of my desk, you could even design a whole industry of gothic apparel with the dead sagging look on my face. Still with all of this I had nowhere to move forward from, finding myself simply staring at things not there far beyond food deprivation with the door I kicked in still thrown to the ground people would come and go possibly asking if I was okay or things of that matter; I honestly had not a clue. Had I even replied to them? And if I did, dear God what had I said?

The sun had dropped and stopped seeping through my blinds, I had become incapable of reading what was in front of me but I was far beyond that anyways. Feeling his presence I let myself fade into the air giving him something to breath as he entered saying words that could not be comprehended by me nor anyone far more capable then I had been when it came to conversation. Trying to speak my airy attempts made a smile ear to ear, his blood stained teeth showed from its ever growing stretch. I began my loss of consciousness fighting not to lose this moment and as it left I thought only of my defeat.

I knew what had happened when I woke some time later, what I was not sure of was if I had been glad to get away from him or if I had been a fool to let him make his escape regardless of it being my choice or not. Only finding him when it was of his want and it growing on me that my wants even needs could not be mine, only his, this was where I stood. No ransom to fulfill, no idea of it wanted, not even a clue of who he was and nothing else mattered but these things I had none of. This bringing to mind the only times I had even come across him where those of down times and dreary hours I knew what must be done. I knew I’d need plenty of whisky and of course many other varieties of things but most of all, I needed to loose myself within my weary, acing and sad since of a soul.

In my hunt for his linger I became a waste land. My vices were now up to my ears and had just surpassed my nose giving me my last breath before I submerged. Swimming I made my way to the fridge where I found more bottles, grabbing for a swig they floated to the surface begging me to follow. Now at sea level in hopes to find my bottle I had instead been found in this storm of an ocean throwing me every which way. Seeing the bottle float into the distance I struggled to make it my quench fighting waves through hard metal droplets as thunder shook my bones and a began my drowning. The tide began to again fade into the sand as my blur of a vision caught up with me. How I had ended up on this beach I did not know but this did not matter once I saw the bottle drifting its way to me. As it drew closer, my mouth know dripping for liquor, I see only a note filling this bottle; this fucking bottle. Caught up in the moment I was made me sick, I was not wondering how I ended up here nor was I worried who sent this damn note from who fucking cares where and fuck what it said, all I wanted was more booze. Sitting in my sulking self for a moment and getting over my tantrum made this note more appealing. I decided to kill the cat opening it to read “wake up”.

Chapter 16

I had hung myself above the morning and upchucked most of last night but not once had I come across him. Worse at that drenched, in bed with an empty bottle, this fucking bottle. In need of something less wet I decide to explore the great outdoors, fields of sky scrapers and bus stops. In the shadows, where I couldn’t be seen, I met fedoras with glasses. I had always found them rather humorous what with all their class, like there living in the eighties that they were too young to even be alive in. I grow old of the streets when the shadows first start to glow and make like a vampire to light, a zombie to flesh. Done with my horror story I wrote of dragons; old Irish fields with the view tampered by masses of vapored clouds, my face felt a mist smiling from hairline to hairline.

My face had gotten brown as a banana, right at its best time to be pealed and eaten while my arms had holes drilled in them. I knew what this meant, this was the worse option done of all those bad ideas high school kids came up with so they didn’t have to do their homework. Laughing my way in and out of the joke I had become I then thought of math homework; I didn’t mind math homework. Almost drawn back to senior year, eyes strung out now drowning, numbers started to gather in formations on the walls. This wasn’t only numbers but equations, little plus signs and even subtraction. As the night furthered I saw multiplication, division, geometry, I had even taken upon drawings. One had a little eye patch on whatever that scribble was and next to it six plus two equals eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight, eight had made its way exactly eight centimeters into the wall.

I replied to the knocking that echoed in my skull informing aloud that nobody was home to then realize it wasn’t coming from my head at all but rather the door, simply leaning on its frame, which meant I had made myself present to the confrontation I wanted nothing to do with. So, the knocking continues drilling holes in my head. It was enough that I had done my own arms in but for someone else to now drill screws in my head, this was enough. Yelling, now screaming profane to scare her away I heard the man out there answer. Was it him? It was in fact not him knocking at my door but it was one of my ally palls knocking my door into me crushing me all the way to my neck. Standing on the door he came down to my level to spit in my face and in reaction I spit back flipping the door onto him changing positions while damn near scary the fedora right of the glasses. What he wanted to say was that he missed his money that I had put myself in debt of, what he got was robbed and a broken nose. Now what I got, I got an apology and a stash. My door would not stay in its frame with no hinges so I sat there, right there, back holding it up questioning screwdriver? Marking it with a check I began to make a list say screws? Again marking a check I finish off the list following with a smile saying screw head? I did not say check, I just laughed short and sweet, ha!

Chapter 17

When she finally did knock my door tipped again. Even her light graceful knock, in all of its fear, sent my door right over the lump of my back. I had curled up, now half covered with the edge of my door, all I heard was laughing. I looked a wreck, I knew it, and my face was numb but I could feel the sag leaking through. Yet from the bartender all I heard was laughter. I’m not sure if it was the slight trickle of rain or the laughter’s change in town that turned my head. There she stood crying, not laughing, raining on me and making me lose care for all thoughts but one. All I could think of was that it was I who had made her cry and that it hurt to hear her sobbing, to see her wet eyes. Then my thoughts expanded to think of how she looked phenomenal in tears, this made me feel even worse and yet in all this she had still joined me under the door. The last thing I remember seeing were her eyes dry and beautiful at the least to say.

I woke up and she was gone with all of my screws and even my screwdriver that thief, stealing my high. The clatter of pots smacking the floor threw the door right off me standing it up into its frame only so it would bounce back and just miss my head falling to the floor; I had already made my way to the kitchen and found her. Glorifying herself with a half white yoke and a slight yellow forming she began her speech of how she did not like my hobbies, my rituals. I had over seen this speech and withheld it as I screeched thief proclaim what she had stolen, what she had just thrown away. I even tried to explain to her how much money she had just flushed down the toilet but she just stood there waiting. When I shut up she simple said she was not my keeper and handed me my screws from her pocket. She only wanted me to know of her concern and she was making it clear she was not one to make my decisions, I liked that. After a silent stare, it all waiting there for me, I thought if shed want any but my words caught me asking if she knew anyone looking for some. We spent the day exploring the sidewalks making our way into every crease between buildings, every trailer park, and even some rather nice homes. At the end of it all we watched the world wake up over our pancakes.

The sun rose and by the time we had gotten back to the bar we were blinded by the glare on the door going in. She flipped the sign to open walking through the door and poured me a beer at the counter to start off our conversation. I could tell this was not going to be good I thought while gulping my beer ever faster as if my heart were drinking it thumping in my chest. Put at ease she talked nothing, absolutely nothing, of the past few days or of my peculiar behavior. Not knowing why I hated this about her, for that moment, I noticed I liked it just long enough to wig me out. Her speaking, me sweating, I thought about how soon this could all be over without things going as usual; then she noticed. Her eyes, in me, read the words talking their way around in my head, I could feel this. Silence went from one end of the room and back till her words made contact. I was mad at what she said, I was not afraid of anything, she was of me and yet while I was in ravel with why this thought was valid she laughed at it as though a joke. This argument could have gone on for hours if we did not kiss making up sex.

Chapter 18

Back in my bed alone the ceiling did not have much to look at yet I kept a stare for who knows how long, maybe it wasn’t the ceiling that had caught my eye. I could see something or I thought I had to too have kept a glare this long; the problem was that I had not figured out what caught my eye in the first place maybe this was why I kept looking. With no answer what so ever this game continued, maybe I did not want to lose, but none of it mattered when my mind caught that thought. The trouble with being happy is that you never can figure it out and eventually the kind of guy I find myself to be just gives up on things with that kind of depth. I guess beating people to a pulp doesn’t take much thought.

It also did not take much thought to motivate my next move; in fact it was the lack of thought that had me on my way. Again meeting with my fedoras we left the shadows to a hole in the wall mafia kind of place. I could not help but notice the security layered throughout the room and the sophistication of this continuous crime. Just as I was provided my screws I began to notice something else, something bad. Within seconds watching the sophisticated security falter like a house of cards layer by layer I knew this had been premeditated.

With a gun in control the whole room lost its class and a few fedoras their lives. The guns voice was dark and confident laying down the law in a completely lawless setting as I watched this crime against a crime become very real. Still standing there, watching it all unravel, I realized he was bellowing at me. Ignoring the gun yelling directly in my face I quickly got control of the situation leaving only the head honcho to deal with. Now finally catching up with my takeover he shot me. I felt the searing hot metal melt through my flesh as I took my eyes off the hole in my body and looked back into the eyes of my shooter. Only hearing the next few shots I did not feel if they had hit me, rather I grabbed his throat and with a single hand snapped it.

The room was silent except for the echo of those last few shots and finding out they indeed had hit me I knew this was why they stared. A few fedoras said something about a hospital and I could not have shut them up faster demanding a screw driver. I grabbed a few more screw from the table without asking, took one last look into the eyes of my dealer and was gone before he could finish blinking.

Again ignoring the thought of hospitality my body needed I made my way to the bar. She had just seen me hours before and now riddled with holes the rant of worries began. Not listening I twisted a screw into my arm stating how hot the bullets still were and how I had hoped she’d remove them. Finished the freshly poured beer I asked for hard liquor only to dump it into my wounds. Hearing the alcohol sizzle into me I clenched my jaw and she pulled out the last of four metal shards. I would not have her talk of hospice and for the third time in minutes I declared. Going on about how, yes, I was sure and how, no, I don’t do systems. She couldn’t have misunderstood me more. It was this thought that dawned my own misunderstandings and announced my silently sudden disappearance from the bar.

Chapter 19

Now back to my desk for the first time in what felt like years the frantic scramble of it all brought me back into my business as if I had never left. Letting myself go for however long I had been gone had made a layer of rust that smelled of liquor on his tracks, I was sure of it. Not thinking of how horrible our encounters had been I did not fathom what would happen or what I would do when I found him. Trying not to think of my father I looked through every bit of leads I could possibly find and in turn found nothing. For days this creature would not let me be and now there is not the slightest bit of evidence he even exists. Remembering the last time I had hoped to bring him to me I also came to terms with the failure it brought me instead, but it was here that I thought of that house. The only time in decades I had even considered the existence of this house I had done so with no recollection of getting there and an array of booze. This in mind, it took quite a few screws along with a handle for the road to get me started and with every step making my way closer and closer even being still miles away I could feel the pain of that damn place.

Brown, the front yard kept my feet for some time before I could stomach the first of three steps leading to the porch. The squeak of the second step dropped my heart into my stomach while also stopping my foot half way to the third and final step. After my intensity calmed and my lungs began to breathe again I could only make it to the front door before I froze. Standing there for quite some time I flaked turning to leave when the scream filled me. It was by reaction I made my way through the door and every room searching for the damsel but after the last room had been cleared and there was no sign of need anywhere in the house I noticed it. The frame of the last door had been drawn upon informing of my yearly growth and I could smell my mother’s cooking in the kitchen.

Making my way to the table I sat with my mother and began to grab for the food when she smacked my wrist. My hunger would have to wait for my father to get home, she insisted, making my stomach growl back at her. There we sat for some time until the front door announced his arrival but food soon became the last of our worries as again that same scream that had brought me in filled my hunger. Realizing now it was my mother screaming I could feel the memory of those tears trickle down my young face. My dislike for hospitality came almost genetically from my father and I could hear his protest in the other room against the plead of its need from my mother. Left alone at the table she had convinced him to go and the food vanished just as he had reminding me of this night. Still stuck in the past I sat there at the empty table waiting for their return.

My glazed over eyes became saucers when the door creaked open. Rushing I made my way to greet my father at the door but found only my mother drenched in tears. Even as a kid I could see the horror in her face, the despair in her eyes and I knew what this meant. My mother’s face melted into wrinkles, her eyes had become rotten in her sockets, and she laughed morbidly happy. Her voice now dark and raspy became of a nefarious manner and her body buckled underneath her rotting into the floor. Through the smell of her carcass he entered the room this time just standing there. As his grim smile made its way searing into my eyes and tunneling my vision he made his escape into the gust of wind bellowing by me just before I collapsed.

Chapter 20

My lucid thoughts began to leave my dream as a jumped up not taking the time to wonder how I ended up here. I only made my way to the other side of the bar frantically, I had no idea how long I had been out but even only a second is all it seems to take for him to make his escape. Grabbing my arm the bartender began her interview but there was no time for this I was so close and now so far, all I could think of was my desk. Again her complete misunderstanding was apparent in her eyes as I took that last glance turning towards the exit and making my way through the door yet the gloom in her questioning as I left stopped me in my tracks. I did not turn around and I did not answer I just stood there; For that moment I felt my work loose its matter but only for that moment before I was gone.

The papers on my desk now wrecked with nonsense and scribbles made it even harder to get any sort of a clue or any kind of direction towards him. It had been days since I left my chair but I was only guessing from the over flow of my ash tray, I figured a pack a day was a good estimate and there must have been at least sixty three, maybe four, butts burned half way through the filter.

My screws had been abandoned to a place I couldn’t quite recall and besides my floor of empty bottles there was zero alcohol content anywhere, I had not even noticed this until I felt the dehydration start it’s drying. At times the bartender danced through my thoughts but only long enough for me to turn off the music and I seemed to have become completely ignorant to anything besides my work, I did not even hear the city cry for help anymore.

For the first time in these desk days I had dosed off and it was her voice that brought this slumber to my attention startling me awake. With no idea of what she was saying I began my mumble ranting on about my work and other slurred confusing gestures to get her out. Now back from my nap I started right where I left off with a strong intent to figure things out. I had not even realized she was still in the room till I felt her behind me.

The entire world came to a halt when my mother’s words made their way out of the bartender’s mouth. It was an eerie long silence as I turned around looking past her. Now back at the dinner table I could hear my parents in the other room and I spoke for my father yelling against the bartender’s ideas of the hospital.

It was her question of my attention that got my eyes to look up at her, seeing tears I thought again of my mother. The bitter past that she had brought back turned my stomach making me dry heave the nothing inside of it and yet again tunnels became my vision.

Chapter 21

Waking up never felt so nice, with the smell of coffee and nicotine filling my nostrils, it was almost pulling me towards the kitchen. Finding the bartender was expected and you’d think I would have also foreseen her avoidance of the issues at hand, thinking of how she had a way of keeping out of my business, I liked this about her. Instead mentioning how I slept for half a day and following with a plate in my face she could tell I hadn’t been eating when she found me days after we last made contact.

The silence as we ate our breakfast soon lost its charm when she finally began her concerns. With a light heart she joked of the fainting in which I had taken to if I wasn’t running from her and rapped it up with a punch line stating she doesn’t bite much. As she continued her end of the conversation it finally dawned on me interrupting whatever she was saying. Not waiting for my turn I questioned her finding me which she took as a joke laughing. When my face did not budge she answered with a question mark misunderstanding what I asked. To enlighten her I simply stated my house again questioning how she knew where I lived. At this point she seemed almost offended bringing up the many occasions in which she had been here. I could see my reflection yelling profanity in her lost eyes about the house I grew up in. As confusion made its way around the room and back to me it sent a surge through the bulb in my head which blew darkening my thoughts with this unbelievable realization.

It was not clear even to me the words that came barreling through my chest and now ever so loudly at her. At first insisting she get the fuck out of here I was completely upset that she would betray me like this. Stubborn the bartender stood strong with no fear trying to make since of what exactly she had done but without answering her, a new plan made itself clear in my mind. Finding the clue I spent days looking for I demanded she bring him to me at once.

Now simply trying to figure out who he even was she questioned where she could find this man I demanded from her, but I saw through her load of shit. She knew exactly what I was talking about and the proof made its way out of my angry mouth again bringing up the house she found me at days ago. In her complete lost since of the conversation she questioned what I was going on so intense about. Making as much since as I could through my temper, I spoke of waking up in her bar just after being made unconscious in the past of my old house as he escaped. Revealing to myself that she had to have been there, with him, I was also revealing this to her or so it would seem with the questioned response she gave me.

Starting with her side of the story I became more angry as her side became her complete own and different story. The bartender was not sure what house I spoke of if it was not the one in which our argument was taking place at this very moment and she sure as hell did not know who he was. It was when she mentioned not even being sure of my sound mind and the word hospital made its way incomplete into the conversation that I lost it.

Between the bottles all over my floor now shards of glass and the furniture splintered threw out my place one could barely hear what I was ranting about through all the uproar of the mess I was making. Just as the debris made its way around the room my memories made their way out of my cage of a skull informing her of my father’s disappearance and for the first time letting anyone in.

When I had finally stopped, hunched against the wall with my face in my hands, I felt her hand warm my back. It was quiet for some time with only the sounds of my sob till she said those three words changing everything.

Chapter 22

Behind the bar throwing the last of my paper work into my now bonfire of a desk was where the bartender found me to inform what time it was. I took one last look at the paper in my hand scribbled with layers of nonsense before I threw it with the others and joined her on our way to the hospital.

I had been seeing this white coat for weeks now and in growing a trust for him I spoke of this dream in which I come home late at night and open the door to myself holding a gun in my face. For a moment it was quiet until he asked if I ever shot the gun. Remembering the dream I dropped it and my lips filled with laughter. In response to my answer he had something to show me.

On our way through the maze of hallways he began to come up with his explanations of how my disorder worked. Informing of how he wished he could have done this sooner he also went into detail of the confusion it could have caused if done to soon.

We entered a room and for the first time in these last few weeks I saw the creature again with his gang of eyeless bodies, though this time, it was only a drawing. As my eyes began to explore the rest of the papers scribbled with layers of nonsense they left the wall making their way around the room and there he was, my father.

The End

For more of Alexx’s writings go to:

Thank you

for reading.

Help I’ve Fallen and IT SUCKS!

Remember that old t.v. commercial advertising the emergency safety device elderly people could wear around there neck or in their pocket and activate when they needed emergency help?

With the press of a button and a loud, strong voice they yell,

“Help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”

Today is a new day & with it comes the usual everyday obstacles and lessons on how to overcome (Romans 8).

Along with each day we grow, sometimes just a little, sometimes a lot. Mostly we grow more than we even know. We are all a work in progress.

Our faults & failures are part of our journey as much as our mountain top experience and successful moments are.

With each moment of our lives we progress, profit, and mature.

Some events or happenings are considered monumental milestone markers. Other things are just the same old activities of daily living; however, with each experience and encounter, whether we realize it or not, we are molded into who we become.

You may ask,

“Doesn’t our freedom of choice have anything to do with it?”

I say, “Our freedom of choice and freewill may have almost, if not everything, to do with who we become and how we overcome.”

When a problem comes along you must whip it, whip it good -Devo 1980something

When various trials, or as I call them, “Situations that SUCK DIRT!”, come our way we may find ourselves saying a few things, let alone letting a few words fly out of our mouths unfiltered.

Consider entertaining these thought:

  • I’ve been through something similar to this before.
  • Last time here is how I handled it.
  • Because I’ve gained experience I know what works and I know what leads to failure.

Or you may process thoughts such as this:

  • I’ve never experienced anything like this, but it is what it is, so let me figure this out the best that I can.
  • Oh God, HELP ME!
  • How can I learn from this so that next time I’ll know what to do.
  • What have other people done in similar situation? (positive & negative examples).
  • What advice can I find in God’s word?

You know, The definition of insanity: Doing same thing over & over again, expecting a different outcome or result.

On my wrist I have a tattoo.

It is the Mandarin word for hope, but notice, there are two characters. For our one word (hope) they have two words,

OPPOSITION & OPPORTUNITY

The tat. is permanent and is a consistent reminder to me.

Perhaps you can stop reading here and go on with your day and face things head on as they come across your path.

If you’re still struggling with whatever is renting space in your brain I suggest you crack open a fresh cold Bible.

There are many more answers there then you’ll ever find in a fresh cold beer or any other source.

Consider what Jesus’ bro James says,

“Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing.
James 1:2‭-‬4 NLT
https://bible.com/bible/116/jas.1.2-4.NLT

“We all must deal with days of necessary pain. Tomorrow healing comes bringing the knowledge gained” 👈👈👈click for song by the band Dogs of Peace (video also posted below)

Go with God, Beetle


EXTRAS

DCTalk HELP!

If you got 20 min. or can make 20 min. watch this clip “”GET UP!” from Pastor Bob’s Coffee Break”:

Dogs of Peace, “Necessary Pain” note lyrics, “We all must deal with days of necessary pain. Tomorrow healing comes bringing the knowledge gained.

God has one eye on the sparrow the other in the center of a hurricane.”

Warning/Instructional Tag

Ever read the warning/instruction lable on a ladder or power tools?

The last few words usually say,

“Failure to read instructions may lead to injury or death.”

However, it’s not reading it that saves you from injury or death. The really important thing is to follow, take heed.

Failure to follow instructions leads to injury or death.

This makes me think of how we’re supposed to not just be a hearer of the word of God but be a doer.

Be careful to do what God says in his message. Do not only listen to it. Do not make that mistake!

James 1:22 EASY

Continue reading “Warning/Instructional Tag”