July 27, 2015 § Leave a comment
“Life is serendipitous, man.”
I peer over the thick black frames of these god forsaken shades. Where did I get these damn things? A dollar store. Probably a dollar store. Always a fuckin dollar store with these miscreants. The man’s lost his mind. It finally happened. I begin to sit up – woah, no. Never mind. I command my muscles but the universe says, “no”. Well, the universe and the eighth of California’s finest we just split.
“Do me a favor and spell that.” I murmur as a lean back in this old chair and shield my face from the fool across from me with a fresh copy of the Beacon Journal. An exotic find in these parts, I might add.
“Sure dick. Ser-in-dippit-tus.”
I don’t even bother breaking my gaze from the paper. If it were anyone else I might laugh. I mean, even if it were just a half-assed attempt to break an otherwise awkward silence following a shitty joke. But old Buck here wasn’t joking. No, he’s just too stoned to discern the intricacies of the English language. Syllables and letters become one when you’re too perpetually high to give a fuck either way.
“Very good, Buck.”
I look up at the ceiling. My shaggy brown locks hang effortlessly as the world begins to leave. Soon the ceiling begins to rise. Now I’m looking at myself from the ceiling. From what I can tell I’m still sitting in my chair. The ceiling rises and I with it. Up, up, and away. Eventually my point of view reaches the roof. Surely it will stop here. No, it keeps going. Up, up, and…
“Wake up, dad!”
Shit, it happened again.
“David, why aren’t you in school?”
“You were calling me Buck, again.” David grinned. He always got a kick out of my trips. Little bastard, just like his mother.
“Get your bag packed, Davey. You’re going to be late”