21 (A literary monologue, of sorts)

Prelude

I am twenty-one. Not only is it my age, but also I consider it my name. Because being twenty-one means being in flux. It is not just a number; it's a state of mind. Funny that something so mundane can be so universal.

Oddly enough, some people just don't get it. The clincher is that some of them were even born the same year.

And on that note my woman has chosen to walk in through the door. (Note: I am not using the term 'woman' in a derogatory sense at any way, at least not this time.) Her name is Myke. I know it's an odd name for a female, but be rest assured that she is one. (almost ended a sentence with a preposition.)

"Hello." was all she said. But with enough coldness in her voice to make a shiver run down my spine.

Now I know this is going to be bad. Never trust a woman when she opens a conversation with one word. (Now it's derogatory.)

"What's up, babycakes?"

I don't even get an answer. She just flashes me that condescending look that goes so well with her ancestral Latin facial structure, especially with high heels.

"Alright, how about another approach. What did I do wrong now?" I figure the longer a woman keeps quiet; the worse it's going to be.

Apparently, I had laced my remark with a little too much sarcasm. Witness to that is the modified roundhouse/slap I received on the left side of my face.

"Ow. That's going to leave a mark."

Now I wish I hadn't given her those boxing lessons.

"You insensitive, self-centered, misanthropic…"

I had pretty much stopped listening after she said misanthropic. Took my nicotine and THC stained brain some time to process the word. When I finally rejoined my body, I finally heard the reason my cheek was going to be sore for the next couple of days.

"…just like you to cutoff all communication lines without rhyme or reason. What am I supposed to do? Wait till you decide you wanna get laid for you to come see me?!?"

Now what was I supposed to do? What she said was all true. Even worse, I was aware of it. So I came in close and pressed her to the wall so she couldn't attack. The right thing to would be to tell her the truth that I'm too immature to have a serious committed relationship.

Instead, I responded with the old standby.

"No need to wait."
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Sex is good. It's all good. After you’ve achieved emission status, you really don't give a shit about anything anymore. A guy in a ski mask and a gun could come in and I would have just smiled and given him the A-OK sign.

I even like the cuddling. Maybe I'm more in touch with my feminine side than I thought.

PSYCHED!

Since I couldn't sleep with Myke moving around between the sheets, I put on some clothes and headed out the door to soak up the atmosphere at the testosterone-laden bachelor pad of a friend.

KNOCKY. KNOCKY. KNOCK. KNOCK.KNOCK.

"Alright already! Shut the hell up!"

Always the paranoid type, Bud opened the door with the chain on and a baseball bat in the hand.

"Hey, T.O.! It's you. Just gimme a sec." He said with a wide grin shining under the long strands of his chest length hair.

Even at 2 a.m. the guy was happy to see a friend. I guess that's why we all call him 'Bud'. That and the fact that he has killer weed. Evidence of which was the sight of a limp figure on the floor. I recognized him as the suicide watch champion of the world, known by the nickname, 'Red'.

"What's THIS guy doing here?"

"I had to take him in. Going through some serious depression again."

"What is it this time?"

"What else?"

"Ah. Women problems. I'm really getting anxious for the day he actually goes through with it and kills himself."

"That's not nice."

"Screw 'nice'. Time we started acting like badasses. Didn't you hear the news? They're killing all the nice



people."

With a final twist of his fingers, the blunt Bud was rolling turned into a heaven-scented stick of perfection.

"Enough of this talking about social injustice and shit. Let's light up this bad boy and it'll dissolve all your ills into smoky nothingness."

Burn, baby, burn.

Suddenly, an image flashed behind my eyes. You know the feeling. It's like being in contact with a higher power. An intense premonition of doom. A flutter of wings behind the iris.

RING

"Yeah. Who is it?"

While Bud answered the phone, I lit up. I just couldn't resist the temptation of a virgin load.

By the time he finished the call I was well on my way to my happy place.
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I woke up on the couch. Right at my feet was Red, still passed out. After shaking him into consciousness with my foot, I learned that the Sultan called in Bud.

The Sultan was an old acquaintance of ours. In our wild college years, he saved our asses more than once. 'Course there was another side to the guy. Sex, drugs and a whole lot of unnecessary violence. Now don't get me wrong. I like the occasional bar fight. Relieves tension. But this guy led a pack that looked for trouble. I never look for it. I just smile when it comes my way.

DIVINE INTERVENTION

"....everybody hurts .."

It was my cellphone. My mom was on the other end. Some men were looking for me. I hung up.

They were tiger's men. Guy just won't let up. So I cheat at a card game. So what? So I have sex with his wife and his sister. So what? So it was at the same time. So what? A guy should learn to not take things so personally.

I once heard a story bout tiger. He grew up in a small village in Thailand. Son of some famous kickboxer. Groomed to be the second coming. He killed a guy his 1st time in the ring. And on the 5th. And the 9th. They kinda had to ban him from competing.

Damn. I was gonna need a wad of cash, quick. And then bud came back with news that made me believe in fate again.

"We got a job."

"What is it?"

“Courier.”

“Package?”

“D.P.S.”

Damn. This was gonna be a tough one. Some death penalty shit to deliver to who knows where. Being a courier has its advantages. You get 5% of the sale and people know that you don’t get to make decisions. Of course you’re also considered expendable, which I don’t really appreciate.

Without knowing it, I was grinding my teeth while I was thinking. Loud enough that Red woke up.

He wiped his eyes and said, “ I’m in.”

Fade out.


chapter alpha
ready, set………

“No way in hell I’m goin on a two day trip without supplies!”

“Uh, T.O., this is a comic book store.”

“I’m well aware of that, bud. But it’s a comic book store inside a mall. So you guys get some beer and munchies while I peruse some reading material.”

“Jackass.”

“I heard that!”

With the end of that exchange, bud and red headed down to the ground floor towards the liquor section of the supermarket. As usual, their appearance drew a lot of staring. Bud walked with an aura of secure arrogance gotten from discovering the secrets of the universe thru weed. His hand, covered with various silver ornamentation, was on red’s shoulder as he guided him into movement. Red was wearing his clothes from work. Collared shirt and khaki pants. What was unique about him was the reddish hue on his face and the uneven shoulders. An appearance of perpetual drunkenness. Even as he had joined the quest, it seemed that his strength was less than it used to be. He dragged himself with every step. Bud was thinking that it might not have been a good idea to toke up before leaving the house.

“So… what kinda alcohol should we buy?” asked Bud as he ran his fingers thru his hair.

“Don’t really care. How about a couple of six-packs of san Miguel and some of the hard stuff.”

“How about this?” responded bud as he reached for a bottle of jack Daniels at the counter.

“Cool. Now for some food.”

“Do we meet t.o. back upstairs or do we wait here?”

“you call his cellphone later. we should get some chips and…” and red voice trailed off. They had just paid for their purchase and heading for the junk food section when he stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s up with you? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost. Or a porn star. Or a ghostly porn star. Maybe Savannah?” Bud was expecting red to laugh when he turned his head to see what his friend was looking at.

“Ohhhhhhh shit.”

FADE TO WHITE


to be con't...