Grit
01-14-2011, 02:26 AM
Mouth is dry, thick with sticky. My phone’s alarm, some piece of classical music, wakes me and I quickly grab it. A quick glance tells me it’s 9:30, lots of time. I adjust the alarm and pass out.
I wake to silence this time. The sun is cooking me gently in my sheets, it’s rays leak between the lines of the tangled, rickety blinds of my nearby window. I click my phone; it’s digital clock reads eleven forty-eight AM. I chuckle and roll out of bed, rotating my torso onto my feet. Well, so much for economics this semester. Fifth class straight, guess it’s just not meant to be. I smile, everything’s so convenient, ain’t it?
I stand precariously, wobbling and then standing still. My head is spinning, and I close my eyes to protect them from the harsh sunlight. I pad my way out of my room and into my attached bathroom. I sit on my toilet and just zone for a second. Then I reach to my right and crank the hot water, full blast. I push down the shower button; I don’t know what else you’d call it although I’m sure it has a name. Within minutes the room is filled with sauna-like steam. It’s just like when you step off the plane from Hawaii and step right into the open airports of Honolulu. Which is where it gets it’s name. Hawaiian hot box. H-H-B. Hippie Shower.
The familiar weight of universe feels reassuring in my sweaty hand as I lift it from its place in the cabinet beneath the island sink. I take out the stem and empty ash from the bowl into the hot shower where it is whisked about before being sucked quickly beneath the rapidly draining floor. Then I take out my bag and admire my stash. I take pride in the quality of my herb. I get it from a guy in the next building, he really likes me, but I had to try fairly hard to make that happen. It’s all about mirroring. If you mirror or imitate everything someone does, they’ll be hard pressed not to like you. They won’t love you, but they’ll like you just fine. That’s all you really need with your dealer.
After my smoke, I quickly spin the hot water off, and then open my door. Room-temperature air hits my shirtless chest like a wall of cold. I go immediately to my room, and throw on a pullover hoody. It’s DC Skate Company. I haven’t skated since high school, I used to be pretty good but then I quit for a bit and got rusty. Things aren’t so fun if you’re no good at them.
I walk to the couch next to our kitchen and sit, propping my feet on the nearby glass coffee table. Your legs can get righteous sleepy if you forget to move for a while. I grab the remote and click Power. The TV’s black screen stares at me. I click Power again. No response. I click it several times, very quickly but there is still no response. I glance at the oven in the kitchen, right on my left. Where the time usually is there is nothing. The numbers are missing. Power must be out. How did the shower work then? Meh, must be on separate grids. I grab the pizza box which sits next to me on the couch and place it upon my lap.
I begin drumming and compose a song, impromptu, based on the bottle of hot sauce that sits lidless on our coffee table.
“Louisiana Hot Sauce
Louisiana Hot Sauce
Tastes so good
Knew it would
Tasty on most stuff
Never gunna have enough”
I repeat this song about six times, growing in volume with every pass. Soon I’m belting it out in a crescendo.
“Hey.”
I stop immediately and look to my left, at the entrance of the room. It’s my roommate, Devin.
“Hey man.”
After I reply, he breaks eye contact and walks right over to the fridge, swinging it open. My hands dance around my bare legs.
“No class today, huh.”
What the hell? It’s not snowing, why would there be no class. My heart is beating rapidly.
“Yeah, got an email this morning.”
“Oh, I meant you just didn’t go.”
I laugh. “Oh okay. Yeah, you’re right I just didn’t go.”
After this exchange, I stand and go immediately to my room, where I close to door. Man that guy is nosy. What’s the fun of living off on your own, if your own roommate acts like your mom? I grab my laptop, plug it in and power it up. At least there’s the Internet. Good old Internet.
That night, at around seven o’clock, I do some reconnaissance. I silently open my door and tiptoe out of eyesight of the couch, but in earshot of the room. I hear television, sounds like Heroes. God that show is sweet. Superpowers are so sweet. Wait, how did he get the TV going? When’d the power come back on?
I walk into the room and stand, looking at Devin and the TV in turn. “Did you notice the power was out this morning?”
Devin looks at me and then responds while looking at the TV. “I used it before I left for class.”
“Yeah but dude, the clock was all black.” I turn towards the clock There’s still a black rectangle where the time should be. “What the.”
Devin stands and walks over to the oven. He reaches down and picks away with two fingers. Then he peels a thick, long piece of electrical tape from off the oven. Beneath, the time reads eight thirty-seven in it’s usual lime-green numbers.
“What’d you put that there for?” I ask him curiously.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He says, gesturing the hunk of tape at me. Uh, oh he’s throwing a tantrum again. “I didn’t do this.”
“Well I don’t remember doing tha-“
“Of course you don’t,” He snaps and storms off like a spaz.
Whoa, what a guy. I retrieve my baggie from the bathroom, as well as some grape-flavoured papers. I thought about doing mango, but I had it last night. I roll a perfect joint, another pride of mine, in under a minute. Know anyone else that can roll a fatty in under a minute? Didn’t think so. I spark it, and am about halfway through it when Devin re-enters.
“Here,” he says and tosses a folded piece of paper into my lap. I instantly notice a staple in it. Before I look up, he’s already gone and I hear his door’s room slam.
I unfold the letter, with shaking hands.
“Nate,
I am tired of telling you daily not to smoke in the apartment. That doesn’t seem to matter to you though, because you continue to do so whenever you feel like. Probably because it wouldn’t be your problem if my dad lost money on this place, not that you can ever do anything, even if it is your problem. You’re messy; you lie frequently and I am fairly sure you don’t like me. I feel like you’re using me. You have until the end of the week to move out. Please find your cheque for this month attached to this letter. Three years is a long time.
Devin.”
At the bottom is the cheque, four hundred dollars. The money I saved up in the summer just to live with my best buddy from high school, to live on my own. To be an adult. My chest is exploding.
After several dazed minutes, I stand and walk to Devin’s door. I knock open the door, and then walk in.
“You know what Devin?”
He is sitting at his computer. He looks nervous. “What?”
“You’re a douche.”
“Oh wow, how mature. I bet you’re wondering why this is happening.”
“Nope. You’re a huge douche.”
“You’re a worthless stoner.”
“Hey, at least I don’t hate life.”
“Get out.”
“No, and you know what Devin? I’m not moving out. What cha gunna do? I’m home more than you are sucker, and I’ll lock you out.”
“I have a key.”
“Can your key break through rubber cement, cause that’s what it’s up against.”
“Go ahead, damage it in any way you want, but just enjoy it cause you’ll pay a fine for it.”
“Seems like that doesn't matter all that much, seeing as I’m rather rich now. Ya know, considering I don’t have to pay rent anymore. Seems like I'm in a kind of Double Jeoprady wouldn't ya say? Seems like things are about to get very interesting.”
"What are you talking about?"
I take a few deep breaths. Then, I walk to the front entrance, and kick the wall as hard as I can. My foot breaks through the plaster easily and I fall backwards onto the floor. Luckily an errant t-shirt breaks my fall.
“Nice wall.” I yell. Then I stand and walk towards the kitchen. Devin has left his room and is now staring at the hole in his dumb wall in disbelief.
“This is my crib.” I say to him.
He leaves without another word. What a perfect douche. Kicks me out the week school starts, like he couldn’t have told me three weeks ago that he was the least chill dude alive. I shake my head, some people.
I figure that hole in the wall will probably cost about three-hundred so I look around for something else to break. I know! He loves the couch, it’s about the only comfortable thing in the entire apartment. I climb upon the wicker couch and begin jumping, driving my feet down hard. The couch creaks under the strain and on my third jump, it cracks, straight through the middle and my feet slam hard against the floor. Lots of breakables around. By the time building security drags me out, kicking and screaming, I’ve smashed every plate and cup in the kitchen cupboard. I even smashed the Porsche mug. That hurt just a bit, cause it was mine, but it felt good too. Cleansing.
It would be hard going to school, especially since I live three hours from campus. Whatever, I’ll find a new place to live pretty easily I figure. I’d find someone who wasn’t a square.
I will camp on the grass in front of my building tonight, it wouldn’t be do bad, I’ve done it before. I had my baggie, I’d be all good.
I wake to silence this time. The sun is cooking me gently in my sheets, it’s rays leak between the lines of the tangled, rickety blinds of my nearby window. I click my phone; it’s digital clock reads eleven forty-eight AM. I chuckle and roll out of bed, rotating my torso onto my feet. Well, so much for economics this semester. Fifth class straight, guess it’s just not meant to be. I smile, everything’s so convenient, ain’t it?
I stand precariously, wobbling and then standing still. My head is spinning, and I close my eyes to protect them from the harsh sunlight. I pad my way out of my room and into my attached bathroom. I sit on my toilet and just zone for a second. Then I reach to my right and crank the hot water, full blast. I push down the shower button; I don’t know what else you’d call it although I’m sure it has a name. Within minutes the room is filled with sauna-like steam. It’s just like when you step off the plane from Hawaii and step right into the open airports of Honolulu. Which is where it gets it’s name. Hawaiian hot box. H-H-B. Hippie Shower.
The familiar weight of universe feels reassuring in my sweaty hand as I lift it from its place in the cabinet beneath the island sink. I take out the stem and empty ash from the bowl into the hot shower where it is whisked about before being sucked quickly beneath the rapidly draining floor. Then I take out my bag and admire my stash. I take pride in the quality of my herb. I get it from a guy in the next building, he really likes me, but I had to try fairly hard to make that happen. It’s all about mirroring. If you mirror or imitate everything someone does, they’ll be hard pressed not to like you. They won’t love you, but they’ll like you just fine. That’s all you really need with your dealer.
After my smoke, I quickly spin the hot water off, and then open my door. Room-temperature air hits my shirtless chest like a wall of cold. I go immediately to my room, and throw on a pullover hoody. It’s DC Skate Company. I haven’t skated since high school, I used to be pretty good but then I quit for a bit and got rusty. Things aren’t so fun if you’re no good at them.
I walk to the couch next to our kitchen and sit, propping my feet on the nearby glass coffee table. Your legs can get righteous sleepy if you forget to move for a while. I grab the remote and click Power. The TV’s black screen stares at me. I click Power again. No response. I click it several times, very quickly but there is still no response. I glance at the oven in the kitchen, right on my left. Where the time usually is there is nothing. The numbers are missing. Power must be out. How did the shower work then? Meh, must be on separate grids. I grab the pizza box which sits next to me on the couch and place it upon my lap.
I begin drumming and compose a song, impromptu, based on the bottle of hot sauce that sits lidless on our coffee table.
“Louisiana Hot Sauce
Louisiana Hot Sauce
Tastes so good
Knew it would
Tasty on most stuff
Never gunna have enough”
I repeat this song about six times, growing in volume with every pass. Soon I’m belting it out in a crescendo.
“Hey.”
I stop immediately and look to my left, at the entrance of the room. It’s my roommate, Devin.
“Hey man.”
After I reply, he breaks eye contact and walks right over to the fridge, swinging it open. My hands dance around my bare legs.
“No class today, huh.”
What the hell? It’s not snowing, why would there be no class. My heart is beating rapidly.
“Yeah, got an email this morning.”
“Oh, I meant you just didn’t go.”
I laugh. “Oh okay. Yeah, you’re right I just didn’t go.”
After this exchange, I stand and go immediately to my room, where I close to door. Man that guy is nosy. What’s the fun of living off on your own, if your own roommate acts like your mom? I grab my laptop, plug it in and power it up. At least there’s the Internet. Good old Internet.
That night, at around seven o’clock, I do some reconnaissance. I silently open my door and tiptoe out of eyesight of the couch, but in earshot of the room. I hear television, sounds like Heroes. God that show is sweet. Superpowers are so sweet. Wait, how did he get the TV going? When’d the power come back on?
I walk into the room and stand, looking at Devin and the TV in turn. “Did you notice the power was out this morning?”
Devin looks at me and then responds while looking at the TV. “I used it before I left for class.”
“Yeah but dude, the clock was all black.” I turn towards the clock There’s still a black rectangle where the time should be. “What the.”
Devin stands and walks over to the oven. He reaches down and picks away with two fingers. Then he peels a thick, long piece of electrical tape from off the oven. Beneath, the time reads eight thirty-seven in it’s usual lime-green numbers.
“What’d you put that there for?” I ask him curiously.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He says, gesturing the hunk of tape at me. Uh, oh he’s throwing a tantrum again. “I didn’t do this.”
“Well I don’t remember doing tha-“
“Of course you don’t,” He snaps and storms off like a spaz.
Whoa, what a guy. I retrieve my baggie from the bathroom, as well as some grape-flavoured papers. I thought about doing mango, but I had it last night. I roll a perfect joint, another pride of mine, in under a minute. Know anyone else that can roll a fatty in under a minute? Didn’t think so. I spark it, and am about halfway through it when Devin re-enters.
“Here,” he says and tosses a folded piece of paper into my lap. I instantly notice a staple in it. Before I look up, he’s already gone and I hear his door’s room slam.
I unfold the letter, with shaking hands.
“Nate,
I am tired of telling you daily not to smoke in the apartment. That doesn’t seem to matter to you though, because you continue to do so whenever you feel like. Probably because it wouldn’t be your problem if my dad lost money on this place, not that you can ever do anything, even if it is your problem. You’re messy; you lie frequently and I am fairly sure you don’t like me. I feel like you’re using me. You have until the end of the week to move out. Please find your cheque for this month attached to this letter. Three years is a long time.
Devin.”
At the bottom is the cheque, four hundred dollars. The money I saved up in the summer just to live with my best buddy from high school, to live on my own. To be an adult. My chest is exploding.
After several dazed minutes, I stand and walk to Devin’s door. I knock open the door, and then walk in.
“You know what Devin?”
He is sitting at his computer. He looks nervous. “What?”
“You’re a douche.”
“Oh wow, how mature. I bet you’re wondering why this is happening.”
“Nope. You’re a huge douche.”
“You’re a worthless stoner.”
“Hey, at least I don’t hate life.”
“Get out.”
“No, and you know what Devin? I’m not moving out. What cha gunna do? I’m home more than you are sucker, and I’ll lock you out.”
“I have a key.”
“Can your key break through rubber cement, cause that’s what it’s up against.”
“Go ahead, damage it in any way you want, but just enjoy it cause you’ll pay a fine for it.”
“Seems like that doesn't matter all that much, seeing as I’m rather rich now. Ya know, considering I don’t have to pay rent anymore. Seems like I'm in a kind of Double Jeoprady wouldn't ya say? Seems like things are about to get very interesting.”
"What are you talking about?"
I take a few deep breaths. Then, I walk to the front entrance, and kick the wall as hard as I can. My foot breaks through the plaster easily and I fall backwards onto the floor. Luckily an errant t-shirt breaks my fall.
“Nice wall.” I yell. Then I stand and walk towards the kitchen. Devin has left his room and is now staring at the hole in his dumb wall in disbelief.
“This is my crib.” I say to him.
He leaves without another word. What a perfect douche. Kicks me out the week school starts, like he couldn’t have told me three weeks ago that he was the least chill dude alive. I shake my head, some people.
I figure that hole in the wall will probably cost about three-hundred so I look around for something else to break. I know! He loves the couch, it’s about the only comfortable thing in the entire apartment. I climb upon the wicker couch and begin jumping, driving my feet down hard. The couch creaks under the strain and on my third jump, it cracks, straight through the middle and my feet slam hard against the floor. Lots of breakables around. By the time building security drags me out, kicking and screaming, I’ve smashed every plate and cup in the kitchen cupboard. I even smashed the Porsche mug. That hurt just a bit, cause it was mine, but it felt good too. Cleansing.
It would be hard going to school, especially since I live three hours from campus. Whatever, I’ll find a new place to live pretty easily I figure. I’d find someone who wasn’t a square.
I will camp on the grass in front of my building tonight, it wouldn’t be do bad, I’ve done it before. I had my baggie, I’d be all good.