The Water Bearer

            “It’s not like I’m dying of thirst out here, I can make it alone,” he said staring at the water bearer. “Besides you don’t want to waste your precious water on a fool like me,” he added nervously as he started to rub his neck, a nervous tic, trying to figure her out, her intentions in all of this.

            The water bearer smiled faintly, dimples slowly burrowing her cheeks, “It’s not like I’m offering you all my water anyways, but I have a feeling you could use some.”

            The way she spoke he almost wanted to believe her. He stared at her for awhile forgetting to speak as he drowned in her brown eyes that reflected so well of her olive skin. Somewhere faintly in the back alley, cobwebs of his mind he could hear the old Van Morrison tune, “Brown Eyed Girl” playing. The song brought back a memory from years ago, as a child, him sitting in the passenger seat of his father’s car listening intently to the song, he said one day he could find a brown eye girl and he too would be able to say, “My brown eye girl.” But he never found her and that goal and memory had been long forgotten along with the song till he peered into her eyes. Music was a rare thing these days, something so joyous as music had no place in this god forsaken land. It was a distant memory now to most people just as water was now and with his thoughts back to water he realized she was right, he could use some water right now. For it had been days since his last drop, some murky brown germ ridden pool of water he had stumbled upon. It had been months even years perhaps, since fresh water had hit his chapped, cracked lips. It was hard to tell though, time tended to blend together when you’re left to wonder and besides wasn’t time something must made up by humans to measure inane things with inane meanings? But water, water we did not create and so when that disappeared there were dire consequences. Knowing time wasn’t necessary but water, as most people were learning, was.  He knew the water bearer probably had the freshest water he would ever find for the remainder of his time but he was raised right and knew that you just didn’t go up to a water bearer and ask for water, especially one as beautiful as she. He looked around half expecting WDA Agents to be creeping up from the sand dunes but the land was bare except for him and the beautiful water bearer.

            She started to slowly walk circles around him in a non-threatening way, just looking, taking him all in. She wore a small animal hide skirt and a raggedy silk top that had been cut at the sleeves and the abdomens, revealing her flat, sand covered stomach. The silk blouse at one time signified someone in her family had been important but that was obvious because she was a water bearer. Her hair, brown with streaks of sun bleached blonde was tangled, sand and dust visible in strands with flowers and twigs scattered about, some on purpose others accidental. Still her beauty radiated off her as if you stared too long you may be blinded. He felt a sharp pain from within as he wished they had been born before their time so as not to mmet now in this doomed world of theirs. If only it was thirty years ago a time that when you turned on the shower, a sink faucet, a hose water did come out and no one even questioned why it wouldn’t. He wished they could’ve spent just one ignorant year together not knowing the doom that lay ahead just so he could wake up next to her, ignorant it may have been but it would’ve been bliss. How beautiful she would’ve been in a time like then, where she could shower, wipe the sand from her face and stomach and the perfume he thought, oh how delicious she would smell. But what kind of beauty was that really he asked himself staring at the water bearer. Her beauty, the once in a lifetime beauty, beauty that inspired wars, odysseys, poetry and books was a beauty that could be recognized at any time in history.

            “Well…” she said.

            “I can’t, I just can’t take your water, there are far more deserving people out there. I have been blessed to have had experienced fresh water in my early life, I wish not to deprive someone who never has. It’s far too precious of a commodity to give to one such as I.”

            She rolled her eyes, funny how things like rolling your eyes happened to survive the falling of a society he thought. She started to trace her fingers down his shoulders, moving along to then trace the veins down his arms to his fingers tips. He felt a shiver down his spine under the hot beating sun and for a moment he was six years old again running into his house away from the hot heat and having the A/C blast him from the doorway drying hi sweat within minutes leaving a crusty salty layer cracking with his movements.  

            “You’re far too modest, too nice, too shy, too many things to be able to survive in a world like this,” she whispered into his ear, her hot breath burning his ear lobe, setting him on fire. He could almost smell her breath, intoxicating to his nose. Strange, he thought, how it was just like his mother’s perfume, the kind she would wear as she and his father would leave for the night. He remembered her wrapping him into a giant hug, his nose turning inebriated from the scent of clove cigarettes and perfume and how long after she was gone he would lie in bed and he could still faintly smell her on his pajamas. He’d lie there smelling her essence till he couldn’t keep his eyes open any long and all would fade to black.

            He was so caught up in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed the water bearer was still close to him, her breathing still pounding on his ear but she wasn’t whispering anything now. He looked and noticed that the moon too was visible in the sky competing with the sun, both full and beating down on him. He racked his brain for a distant memory of his grandmother who had told him of such things but his head was foggy and his memories were coming in as static. Was it love that followed such a sign or was it something more ominous like death?

            Then out of nowhere the water bearer pulled back, leaned in and kissed him. It was passionate and caring and she moved around his mouth like she had been kissing him all his life. Her mouth was as cool and refreshing as the mountain springs he’d play in as a child growing up before they dried up. With his eyes closed he could hear the faint laughter of his brothers and sisters, playing with the neighborhood kids, water splashing and joyous screaming. Suddenly the emptiness, the sadness, the hurt, the anger, his thirst all disappeared, lifting a great weight off of him. Quenched he thought, as he opened his eyes again finding himself on his back staring at the sky watching the vultures circle above him. She was real he thought trying to convince himself and if he focused he could still smell a faint essence of her breath, her perfume in this sad world.    “She was real…she was real…she was real,” and for the first times in years he felt quenched as he closed his eyes one last time…

Chapter 4 Chemical Y

Brandon

2012

            Brandon followed Jessica away from Campus, he wasn’t sure where she was taking him but he kept his doubts in abeyance as she had said this was the place to go. How did she know where the place to go was already? Hadn’t she only been on campus for the same six hours he had been there? But he figured what the hell she was cute and perhaps tonight would be everything he had dreamed of for college, just maybe it would be a whole wet dream orgy of Animal House, American Pie, Old School and every other movie that had taught him, no trained him and prepared him for the fateful day he stepped onto a college campus. He was ready he said to himself, he knew what was in store, or at least he thought he did. Brandon still hesitant on where they were going walked a few feet behind Jessica, he couldn’t help notice her hips swaying back and forth so innocently but yet so sensually all wrapped in one, he watched in a daze as her hips played jazz moving to their own rhythm, improvised yet as if it was an innate movement. Her jean shorts coming up so high were ripped in the all right spots just enough to tell you what was there but leave you begging for more. Jessica turned around as Brandon quickly tried to divert his eyes to the side. She smiled sweetly and told Brandon to hurry up, Brandon looked at her smile and couldn’t help but wonder what her lips tasted like, something sweet he thought to himself caramel or chocolate like. He quickened his pace as they walked together through a front lawn towards a house that one may say was falling apart.

Brandon stared at amazement at the sight in front of him. The front porch had three giant white round pillars with paint chipping off them and into the bushes and ground on the front porch which was also littered with a year’s worth of cigarette butts. There was a hammock hanging between two pillars and inside lay a half empty handle of whiskey. Bit’s of today’s newspaper lay spread out on the porch as Brandon recognized some of today’s headlines. The place looked like a dump and Brandon was a bit nervous on meeting the inhabits but there was also a strange feeling that excited him to meet these people. Brandon stared up at the windows and half expected a flying keg to come crashing out or the windows exploding from the bass of a loud rap song but he had been so wrapped up looking at the house he hadn’t noticed till then that it was strangely quiet. It wouldn’t surprise him he thought if the house was abandoned perhaps kids came here to party.

            “Are you sure this is the place?”
            Jessica gave him a playful nudge that quickened his heartbeat, “Of course it is, 201 Weinbach drive, they said.”

            “Well it doesn’t really look like anyone’s home. And ah I love..” Brandon hesitated for just a split second, “parties that have people there,” he said staring away from Jessica now. Had she noticed his slip up? Perhaps not, he didn’t finish the sentence he convinced himself, it couldn’t be obvious. Be cool Brandon he told himself.

            “Don’t be a party pooper,” she said pouting her lips, “come on it will be our first college party and memory,” she squealed in excitement grabbing Brandon’s hand as she walked up to the front door and knocked. Brandon waited to hear footsteps but he didn’t hear anything but silence. Soon Brandon was drowning in the silence, it was killing him, someone needed to answer that door or he had to say something. But what was he suppose to say to her?

            You’re an idiot,” Brandon said looking straight at the door.

“Excuse me?”

 “Oh shit, did I say that out loud?” Brandon said feeling his face turn red as he looked at Jessica who had a bewildered look on her face. Brandon knocked this time a little more forceful but after thirty seconds still no one answered.

            “Maybe there not home.”

            “Nonsense, they said they would be here,” Jessica pushed opened the door which was unlocked. Brandon hesitated at first but followed Jessica inside. The first thing they noticed was the crashing of colors into their view as the walls were covered in graffiti, posters, and sayings of Obey, Never believe what you see only what your told, Sheep, Product Placement and other strange things that only confounded Brandon more. Looking closer they both noticed the graffiti was actually quite good. Brandon took a step forward but started to slide as he looked down and noticed every inch of the floor was covered in different types of Newspapers, magazines, empty bottles, empty cigarette boxes and fast food wrappers. It was as if a tornado had hit a newspaper stand and McDonalds all at once.

Brandon and Jessica stepped into the next room and found three men on the couch sitting staring at a TV but nothing was on, two girls stood in the corner of the room dancing to music neither of them could hear. They were the most peculiar looking people ever, there was a tan fellow who looked perhaps Japanese and something else that Brandon couldn’t figure out, he was wearing bright white pants with long legs matching a long skinny upper half in his tight tie die shirt. He had dark long black hair which he held out of his eyes with a pink bandana, in both his hands he clutched a broom with the head up holding it as if it was the most natural thing in the world as if he just sat down for a break while sweeping. Next to him was an even darker looking fellow perhaps Mexican, he had brood shoulders he revealed in a basketball jersey of a team Brandon couldn’t recognize, he was shorter than the other two but he too had pitch black hair that sat underneath his Indian headdress.  The third fellow who sat halfway off the couch leaning on a cane, was just as peculiar as the first two, the first thing Brandon noticed was the streaks of gray running down his hair that stood out more underneath his black bandana, he paid no attention to Brandon or Jessica as he was too busy staring intensely at the blank TV. “Hello” Brandon called out with almost too much alacrity.

“Shhhh” the grey haired one snapped,” the band’s about to warm up,” he said without even turning around to see who was saying hello.

Brandon and Jessica looked all around them but they couldn’t see a band anywhere but then they heard piano keys followed by the snare drum in a desultory of an opening. Then the piano started to lay the line as Brandon could hear the drummer get into it, a couple seconds later they all meshed together and the band then jumped into a jam, with people clapping and soft singing for warming up. The girls in the corner swayed back and forth to the beat and the three men on the couch stood bobbing their head and feet to the beat, staring intensely at the TV as if the band was right there playing. Brandon sat there staring for awhile at them; they looked fierce as if nothing else existed in the world except this warm up jam they were so focused on. Brandon couldn’t put his finger on it but there was something about this group, it was as if they were all in on an inside joke and he was starting to feel some ambivalence being the odd man out. Why wouldn’t they just look over or acknowledge us Brandon thought racking his brain. He leaned into Jessica to whisper something but she didn’t notice as she sat in a stupor watching the group. Finally the music died down and as if coming out of a trance they stared at each other and started laughing maniacally.

The one with the headdress, that later Brandon would find out was named Ritz, finally stood up and walked towards them, “Jessica! You made it,” as he grabbed her by the hand and led her to the couch where the two fellows had now slipped on sunglasses for some reason, “allow me to introduce you to two geniuses I know and that you should know,” pointing to the one with the broom, “Jessica, this is The Eskimo,” he nodded his head coolly towards her but a second later started to giggle punching the grey hair man next to him, “and this charming gentleman here” he said pointing to grey haired one, “no but seriously, watch out for his charm,” he whispered to Jessica, “this is my good friend Dr. Graybusch,” he half looked up and gave a small wave but went back to The Eskimo and murmured something as they both laughed hysterically . Jessica looked all around her looking flustered and quickly stepped back to grab Brandon.

“Everyone, this is Brandon,” she said.

“Brennon” Dr. Graybusch said.

“No, Brandon.”

He nodded, “Yes, yes indeed, Brennon’s a strong name a good name, everyone say hi to Brennon.” All at once the rest of them yelled hi Brennon.

Brandon blushed not sure if they were messing with him or what. Brandon looked over to the corner towards the two girls, “I didn’t catch your ladies names…

Graybusch interrupted, “Yes these are our bitches, bitch one and bitch two.”

Brandon looked at the two of them in shock, “well I don’t know if they appreciate being called that.

The two girls quick interrupted him with protests, “You mind your own business there little bitch,”

Ritz stood up and said in an almost growl, “cut em bitches or let me at him,” as he then flopped back down to the couch causing The Eskimo and Dr. Graybusch to laugh even more hysterically.

Brandon quickly took a step back and started thinking he was in a mad house for sure.

“If you like you could be bitch number three” Graybusch said stopping his laughter as he now just sat with his head tilted calmly smiling while staring at him.

Brandon looked to the ground and quietly muttered, “No, no its Brennon,”

Graybusch smiled even more, “Yes, yes, that’s right... Brennon, rolls off the tongue nicely..."

Chemical Y Chapter 3

Dennis

2030

On the Corner of Fifth and Dale sat The Mantague Inn, a red rustic brick building that went unnoticed from being directly smashed in between a Leader’s Bank and McDonalds. It was a place where one could enjoy a beer or whiskey and an actual cigarette in peace with no distractions. The Mantague Inn had more of day crowd if you know what I mean. The type of people who came to drink to forget, forget about their unemployment or the rent that was coming up that they knew they wouldn’t have. It was a bar that went unfrequented by the masses, but that’s what Dennis enjoyed the most about it, the less the better. In the corner booth Dennis sat slowly tearing a napkin to pieces against the dark aged wood table. Having finally noticed his leg involuntarily shaking he tried pressing his arm down forcing the leg to calm itself but the shaking persisted bouncing his arm up and down till finally as if it was a wild steer that needed taming Dennis had his leg back under control. This whole time Wil was going on about a story that Dennis was only half paying attention to. Wil had dark black hair that reminded him of the color tar that was paved outside Dennis’ house when he was a child, the older kids would describe tar being made out of a witches black hair and the image had stuck with Dennis all these years for some reason. Wil was tall and skinny but not the type of skinny that made you cringe with hunger but the healthy type that was perfectly accented with his fashion, he of course always had a taste of fashion. Wil now was speaking so quickly moving his arms around with every movement of the story you would almost think the world was coming to an end he wanted to finish so quickly.

            “Dennis, are you even paying attention?”

            “Huh?”

            “Jesus, I’ve been going on and on for the last ten minutes have you not been listening?”

Dennis started to scratch his head and yawn trying to speak, “I’m listening, I’m listening. You met a guy?”

“It wasn’t any kind of guy if you know what I’m saying?” Wil started to laugh like he had said something terribly witty. Wil had a habit that when laughing he would almost fake punch Dennis but it was the type of interaction that made you believe that only you two got the joke and the rest of the world just would never understand and he was perfectly content having it that way. It made Dennis feel comfortable around Wil, perhaps it was why he was one of the few friends he had.

            “I don’t know what you mean, so, did you get his number? When’s the date?”

            Wil looked like he might fall out of his chair from such a suggestion, “Heavens no, I hadn’t the faintest clue on whether he was straight or if he curved time to time, but I guess we will find out sooner or later.” He broke into a hysterical laughter again as if he hadn’t laughed all day and had been holding it in. But then again it wouldn’t surprise Dennis if Wil hadn’t laughed all day, he did work that barbaric job in financing, just crunching numbers and making money. It was like a different language when Wil started to speak Finances to Dennis anytime, there just had to be an easier and more considerate job than a financer, Dennis thought.

            “So you did get the number than, you slick Willy!”Dennis said jokingly knowing it would annoy Wil.

            Wil rolled his eyes, “You are hearing, not listening Dennis. Yes, I do have his number but only because this man, this man, told me he could get us some grass…today.”

            Dennis edged closer to his seat dropping whatever was left of the disintegrated napkin, and whispered, “You found grass?” Wil continued to smile but said nothing. “But it’s been years since”

            “Well I found him and he’s coming here.”

.           “Can we trust this guy though?” Dennis asked shifting glances from left to right.

“Please Dennis, you act like the Leaders will come busting down your door for grass, they have better things to worry about than your minuscule grass. And I say we can trust him, mother fucker. Besides you’ll get a kick out of this guy…very interesting.”

            “Interesting? What do you mean?” But before Dennis could get an answer Wil was getting up from the table.

            “You’ll find out in a second,” he said as he rushed to the front of the bar. Dennis spun around peaking his head out from the booth as he watched Wil approach a man more on the short side. He had blonde hair that was starting to thin out on top but his boyish face made him look perhaps ten years younger than he actually was.. The man looked nervous constantly looking behind him and walking with a strange gait. A closer look revealed the man violently rubbing a rabbit’s foot in his hand.

            “Dennis, this is Brennon,” Wil said almost school girl giddy like, spilling his drink.

Brennon sat across the booth from Dennis, “So it sounds like you need some medicinal help.”

“Well yeah that’d be great,” Dennis started to say before he noticed Brennon just staring at his watch paying no attention to Dennis or Wil anymore.

It’s swiss you know, they’re the best,” Brennon said not taking his eyes of his watch, he looked like he wanted to say something more but he hesitated, then turned around again to look at the door, “it’s got no holes like the cheese though,” Brennon continued laughing quietly, “Imagine that a watch with holes in it,” Brennon just shook his head like Dennis or Wil had just offered the suggestion. Dennis looked over to Wil who was hunched over trying to hide his laughter. Is this guy for fucking real Dennis thought?

            Then as if his previous comments never happened he jumped right back into business. “So…how much are you looking to spend? I’ve got everything possible, so just let me know the price range and I’ll let you know what I’ve got.”

            “You’ve got everything possible?” Dennis asked mockingly, “We haven’t seen grass here in over a year, where are you coming from all of a sudden?”

            Brennon was rocking back and forth now in the booth “oh I know a street where anything is possible.”

            Dennis gave Brennon a strange look, “Anything’s possible?” Then without even really thinking Dennis asked, “What about books?”

            Brennon quickly stopped rocking back and forth and shot a sharp glance at Dennis eying him up and down, “why, why would you want a book? You have a PET, don’t you?” he asked sharply before turning back to look at the door again and lazily saying, “You know when I was your age a PET was a dog…or a cat…meow.” Dennis couldn’t tell if Wil’s look of shock was a result of his question or Brennon’s behavior.

            Dennis wasn’t sure why he even wanted a book perhaps it was just to test the guy when he said he had anything but something hadn’t left him since he had seen the stranger on the bus with a book,“You said anything’s possible on this street, so can you get me a book, any kind of book, a book that’s not offered on the PET though.”

            Brennon sat there for a full minute not saying a word but instead taking in his surroundings, finally he bent over the table and faintly whispered, “you guys get into books and your entering a whole different shit storm, and I’m not sure you want that.”

            Wil sat there still slacked jaw not sure what was going on, Dennis decided to keep pushing forward, “It’s just a book, I think we can handle it,” Dennis said laughing softly.

            Brennon’s face did not show a hint of smile as he stood up from the booth, “Fine, than you’ll have to meet them then.

As Dennis and Wil quickly followed Brennon outside they were filled with questions of who they were going to see, where were they going, but they dare didn’t ask any questions thinking they may have found a very good connection to grass and who knows what else. This is unknown excited Dennis, something new he was thinking. Then Brennon just slowed down a bit and looked off into the distance, “I can still remember meeting all of them for the first time…”

The Last Night

      

What a night, I think to myself as I strike a match and gently place it to my wooden bowl, as I exhale smoke rings. Things are going well until one of the servants tells me Master Lieberman is at the door with urgent news, what could be so urgent on such a night like this? Tonight was a night for relaxing dammit, doesn’t anyone have respect for some peace and quiet? But my servant says it is of the upmost importance that I see him. I look up to see Lieberman and can see right away from his face something was ailing him, “what is it” I ask, “is the president sick?”

                “Mr. Graybusch, there is something utterly wrong,” Lieberman says.

                “Take a seat, calm down, a glass of whiskey will do you good...You thirsty? I’m thirsty.” But all the while Lieberman paces nervously before finally giving in and sitting but still not touching his whiskey glass. “Please tell me what’s wrong,” I ask.

                “Well you know the president, how he likes to lock himself away from everyone,” I nod my head egging Lieberman to continue, “well he’s done it again, locked himself away in the Lincoln room…and I don’t like it one bit sir, I’m afraid.

                “Now my good man,” I say, “be explicit, what is it that you fear?”

                “Now Greybusch, I’ve been afraid for more than a week,” Lieberman says mostly avoiding my previous question, “and I can bear it no more.”

                Lieberman’s appearance bore out his words, his manner was odd and besides from his arrival he had failed to look me in the eye at any point in our conversing. Even now he stared down at the floor as if counting the specs of dust around his shoes, his whiskey glass still untasted, Bastard, I thought, that was good whiskey he was letting go, what could possibly be distracting him from good whiskey?

                Lieberman looked up again but only offered that he could bear no more.

                “What is amiss in you, Lieberman dammit, talk!”

                “I suspect foul play.”
                “Foul play!” I cried out, “What foul play?”

                “I dare not say, you just must come with me and see for yourself.”

                Annoyed I sat there then quickly gulped down the rest of my whiskey along with Lieberman’s and stood up feeling the drink pulsate through my veins. Stepping outside it was a warm night with a damp muggy feel to it. There was no small talk during the walk towards 1600 Pennsylvania Ave, Lieberman just kept making nervous glances to the side every block or so as if he was fearful of us being followed. Having a headful of whiskey and some already powerful mushrooms I could feel the paranoia creeping in, keep it together Greybusch, I thought to myself, Lieberman it seemed had already lost it and we didn’t need two freaks loaded with paranoia walking the streets this late at night.

                Lieberman went and knocked on a giant knocker three times before the door creaked open revealing tiny yellow beady eyes, “Is that you Lieberman? The man asked before opening the door anymore.

                Once inside I noticed the lights in the white house were all dimmed as if they were all oil based lamps dying out. The whole staffs, all the way with the maids from the very bottom to cabinet members of the president at the very top, were all huddled around the stairs murmuring quietly, I looked around in shock, why were none of these people working? “The president would not be very happy with everyone sitting here, aren’t we suppose to be leading the free world or something? Or at least pretending we are?”

                No one acknowledged my comments except for a few maids who threw disapproving looks towards my direction with all their weight. Lieberman finally said, “they’re all afraid.”

                Finally one of the maids started to cry out before Lieberman quickly lashed out, “Hold your tongue dammit,” his accent showing just how frayed his nerves were at this point.

                Something truly strange was going on but no one was saying anything. Finally a young servant about 5 foot four came round with a candle and motioned for Lieberman and I to follow. As we ventured further into the white house each step led to darker and darker hallways, we passed the basketball court which seemed strangely empty and quiet as our footsteps became faint echoes that seemed to vibrate and shake my ear drums with each step. Yes this was that deafening silence, one most men can’t bear to stand, no sounds but the thoughts in your head, yes indeed, and a man left alone to his thoughts for too long is never a good thing.

                Finally we reached a door where Lieberman shouted, “Mr. President, it’s Graybusch, he’s here to see you. It’s quite urgent.”

                For a few seconds we heard nothing but the tides of silence rolling in, then a low hiss was heard from underneath the door, “Pleeeaasssssse, no guests tonight, I cannot see anyone tonight.” This was surely not the president, not the charismatic speaker I had seen in YouTube videos, Facebook posts, on the news, was it possible that this dark desolate voice belonged to the same man who kissed babies and made most American’s faint with anticipation?

                “Mr. President it is urgent,” Mr. Lieberman pleaded still trying he was instantly shot down by a darker bolder and much louder voice from the president’s office.

                “OUT!” This voice screamed causing the hair on my arms to stand and sending what almost seemed like chills into the room.

                “You see,” Lieberman persisted to me, “That is not my master’s voice, is it?”

                “No, no,” I shook my head, “that certainly wasn’t the voice I recognized to be the president.”  But somehow I felt I had heard the voice at one time before, but where and when I could not put a finger on. Everything seemed vaguely familiar about this situation but I was having trouble figuring out reality, facts, and the effects from the mushrooms.

                It wasn’t till a minute later I realized Lieberman had been talking, the whole time at a most frantic pace “…for twenty years I have served my master and that voice I surely do not recognize.

                “This is indeed a strange tale Lieberman, but I don’t know what to think of it.”

                “Well I do,” he blurted out turning red in the face, “that man in there has killed the president.”

                I started to block Lieberman from the door, I could see the paranoia in his eyes, the look of a crazy. It’s not hard to see after you’ve been around such crowds before, it’s that look where all rational thoughts have exited that person’s head, and they are working purely off innate movements of savagery, losing any sense of reality. I’ve seen many good men make decisions they would never have made in their lifetime until the paranoia set in.  Still Lieberman backs off and heads for the axe in the corner of the room, I try talking sense in him. “Surely you don’t mean the killer is in that room. Why would the killer choose to stay here and not leave the scene of the crime?”

                “Your guess is as good as mine, but he has for the last few days been crying out in pain wailing for some certain medicine, but only passing notes through the door signed as the president but every time I run to the chemist he keeps returning them with notes saying that the samples are impure and of no use to him right now. I don’t know who he is but he surely wants this medicine he seeks.”

                “Strange indeed.”

                “I can’t wait any longer, Greybusch. We’re taking the door down by force,” Lieberman having somehow lost control of himself in the last thirty seconds was now frantically yelling.

                “Calm down man, we don’t know what’s behind that door,” I yelled but Lieberman already axe in his hand was running full force towards the door and with a mighty swing brought it down on the door handle…

               

                And then I wake up,” Greybusch says exhaling a cigarette through his nose looking almost bull like, illuminated in the yellow fluorescent light of the McDonald Arches shining over the parking lot. Ess, his psychiatrist, was sitting there listening intently and nodding but was now left with no ending.

                “How the hell am I suppose to tell you what the dream means if there’s no coherent ending.”

                “That’s bullshit because most dreams do not end, they can cut off at any moment. Plus I have you for three more cigarettes to figure this out so don’t tell me you don’t know what it means,” Graybusch mumbled looking tired and irate. Greybusch having paid Ess four cigarettes, and having told the dream during the first cigarette had three cigarettes for Ess to smoke before his sessions was over. Ess, if you could guess, was not a licensed physiatrist but he was a great listener and a man who Greybusch could trust, and in these times what was more important than trust?

                “Well I’ll tell you what, tell me some of the bullshit your reading about causing you to go this grey,” Ess says pointing towards Graybusch’s hair while lighting up cigarette number two.

                Greybusch laughs deep from his belly but abruptly cuts off mumbling “Fuck you.” He flops down on the hood of his car and lights up his second cigarette, “Well I’ve been reading the Obama’s administration crackdown on officials accused of disclosing restricted information to journalists.” Now Greybusch suddenly jumps off the hood and starts to pace, “and did you know the Obama justice department has the motherfucking nerve to threaten to jail a journalist as well—unless the reporter, James Risen, reveals who leaked information about the CIA’s efforts to sabotage the Iranian nuclear program.” Greybusch sees from the look of Ess’ eyes he wants to say something but Greybusch throws a hand up stopping him, “I know what you’re going to say that this isn’t new you can’t blame Obama, Bush did the same, they both treated whistleblowers like the criminals.” Greybush stops pacing and starts pointing to Ess, “The thing is, the thing is that they’re coming after journalists too just as Bush did. And that’s the crazy thing, that’s basic First Amendment shit, you know freedom of speech, freedom of the press you know Fucking America!” Graybusch says slamming his hand on his car.

                Ess starts to open his mouth to say something but doesn’t at the last second.

                “and and the thing is,” Greybusch says stumbling over his words, “ is that no one notices. No one gives a fuck. They’d rather talk bullshit, know jack shit on politics and what’s going on and yet this is happening, it’s happening.” Greybusch doesn’t say anything pacing again like he’s thinking, Ess lights up cigarette three as he watches the smoke dance around till a wind picks it up blowing it into nothing.  “Maybe they do know, you know, like they just rather not admit it, or think about it. They’re already dead though, aren’t they?” Greybusch asks, but he knows the answer but Ess doesn’t show any agreement or disagreement but he doesn’t have to. That’s not what Graybusch pays him for; sometimes an old man just has to rant.

                “You know I just think back to three years ago, and people, people really had hope, I mean I wouldn’t say I had hope but I had thought there may be a chance here to see some change. I mean the campaign was hope and change wasn’t it? I don’t see it, we’ve been here before that’s for sure…”Greybusch starts to just stare at the giant Arches forgetting what rant he was going on.

                Ess finally stands up standing next to Greybusch, “well the dreams are starting to make a little more sense.”

                Greybusch looks relieved, “Well what do you think?”
                “Oh no I won’t have a diagnosis yet, no your case is strange indeed, strange indeed,” he said as if tasting each word, “you’ll have to be back next week for another 4 cigarette session.”

                “You dirty scoundrel, trying to haggle me out of all my cigarettes,” Greybusch says menacingly with a smile though.

                “I’m just trying to help,” Ess says throwing his hands into the air, “these are strange times my man, they cause strange cases.”

                Greybusch sat there for a second scratching his chin, “Strange times indeed my friend, strange times indeed.”

               

Blood Thirsty Dogs, Politician’s Anatomies, & Sports Oh My!

                Blood thirsty dogs are roaming around at night in Washington killing for fun and some are said to have owners that they go back to in the morning, ho ho ho. And I’m not even talking about our politicians in Washington, no they are far too busy banging the brains out of their maids, posting sex ad’s on Craigslist, creeping on Facebook for young fans, sexting, or twittering pictures of their male anatomies. (Word document doesn’t think the word sexting exists in its vocabulary, ho ho ho times have changed, gotta keep up paper clip mother fucker) Yes sir, just another day in the land of the free and home of the brave, these are strange times in America huh? I’ll tell you what, a journalist has never had their job so easy every few weeks there’s a natural disaster, a politician’s new baby momma, or a politician’s dick floating around in cyberspace to make headlines.  Which is a win-win for the politicians, keep the people busy with these headlines, don’t let them think about the fucking 14 trillion dollars we currently owe or the Stock Market that will eventually crash in the next 6 months and wipe out the middle class. So fuck it, let’s not think about the impending doom that most likely awaits us, life is GOOD! So let’s talk sports.

                The Dallas Mavericks and Miami Heat series looks completely different than it did only last week. And Lebron James after being hailed by Scottie Pippen a week or so ago as being better than Michael Jordan has scored 11 points total in the fourth quarter in the last five games. Don’t worry I’ll take a moment of silence so you can reread that first…yes that’s right Lebron has offered no reason why he is the legend he is. I don’t doubt that he’ll win a ring at some point but to me his is game is quite disgraceful to be mentioned next to Magic, Jordan, Bird any of those mother fuckers. To me it is just unacceptable for a star player to have that kind of fourth quarter performance in the NBA Finals multiple times, not just once. But how about Dirk from the Mavs? Playing sick, playing with an injured finger, he has been dominant in the last two games showing the craving he’s had for an NBA ring since Lebron was just an awkward 13 year old starting to have funny feelings towards females.

                It’s obvious the Heat don’t have a strong enough supporting cast yet to finish a game as strongly as they want. Earlier in the Playoffs Wade, Bosh & James could take the games by themselves but so far in the finals Bosh and James have been struggling and Wade has bruised his hip, and paying for these three monsters didn’t leave a whole lot of room for a supporting cast, and Dallas is deep as we witnessed the last game with their bench throwing down an odd fifty points or so.

                Although I was giddy with excitement after game five with Dallas taking over 3-2 in the series I am hesitant to say the series is in the bag. One they are heading back to Miami, the one city that doesn’t despise the Heat and secondly I still have the nightmares from last year’s NBA finals where my beloved Celtics went up 3-2 in the series but flew back to Los Angeles to lose the next two games and the NBA finals, so I am wiser now knowing that this is still anyone’s series and my oh my it has been a series some of the best basketball to be watched(well at least in the NBA that is) a very close series so we’ll see what happens in the next three days. With that I good you bid day sir.

Dr. GB

Chapter 2: Chemical Y

Jack

2030

Jack ran his fingers down the perfect specimen of a woman currently sitting on him, her skin was that smooth milky feeling that sent his head spinning causing him to try and keep his focus straight so as not to come too early, but he couldn’t help noticing every minuscule detail of her like how with each quick desperate breath she drew in, her breast stuck out then deflated again as she exhaled or how she quietly bit down on her lips when it became too intense to bear as he would feel her legs tighten around his thighs in a death grip . He didn’t even know this one’s name tonight, but what was the point. Her breathing started to pick up as she bent down and whispered in his ear that she wanted to climax with him. Just the hot air tingling off her breath onto his ear turned Jack on as he picked up his thrusting which only made her yell out more. He could feel it coming now, that mind numbing process of the climax as everything slowly became background noise muffled to a small humming into his ear, his vision started to blur and at climax he went to stare in the eyes of this night’s conquest but was surprised when he looked up to find a blurry image staring back as if he was underwater and could make out the flesh and bone of this woman but couldn’t recognize the face. Before he could ask questions though he climaxed sending his body into convulsions shaking him all the way to his toes till it was nothing but a whimper.

Jack laid there quietly catching  his breath feeling the now cold sweat soaked bed sheets underneath him waiting for the blood flow to return to his brain to recognize no one else was in the room. Some of the most honest moments in a man’s life, Jack had heard somewhere once, were those few minutes after climaxing; that fresh blood reaching your brain can cause a man to look at things with a drastic form of thinking unlike any other part of their day. You can tell if you actually love the woman who has just crumbled into a pile onto your chest, breathing heavily, dragging her fingernails ever so softly over your chest. There had only been one moment where Jack had that moment of clarity after climaxing, realizing the woman he was lying with, he actually loved. Maybe it was sad it only happened once but he considered himself lucky for having experienced the thing called love just once. But there was no woman there for Jack to question if he loved; she had long disappeared, gone in his imagination leaving just a self loathing feeling for Jack.   

It was as if Jack’s eyes were finally opened again as he looked at the filth he was surrounding himself in. He rolled over to his nightstand reaching for a pack of cigarettes but only finding an empty pack he quickly discarded them to the ground falling among a pile of fast food bags, beer cans and other discarded cigarette boxes. Finally after three empty boxes he found the pack he was looking for. He lit the cigarette taking a long drag before exhaling a lungful of smoke that was quickly sucked up into the ceiling fan. Now that his mind was cleared from the gutter he could see clearly he was wasting his time, had been for quite a while too. He should’ve been focused on his work but he found himself yet again becoming bored and abusing himself. It was Jack’s fourth year at the higher education program and this was supposed to be his year to shine. In fact it was looking like everything was falling in place four months ago. He was in love with the woman of his dreams and he was envisioning it all; the house with the picket fence, the beautiful wife and kids. Everything was on track till Mary decided one day that she was bored with life and didn’t love him anymore. She offered no real explanation before running off for the summer with some biker gang where she was passed around like a rag doll being torn to shreds by a gang of Rottweiler’s…or at least that was the story Jack had convinced himself of as she had never said goodbye before the summer and Jack just found it best to try and forget her. But most days Jack found himself stark drunk, roaming around campus feeling sorry for himself, fumbling cigarettes as much as he fumbled around with the words trying to figure why she left. He passed the hours watching TV and when finally having his brain melted from the TV set, he would pass another two hours searching pornographic sites on his PET to masturbate to. When that was all said and done he’d have a cigarette and would venture off to find his one lonely meal for the day, having usually slept through the first two.

It was as if today he had finally come to his senses of what a sad and depressing state he was in. This was his fourth year at the higher education program and he needed to get his shit together desperately if he wanted the one coveted spot for the news program. You see because of the decline of people actually wanting to read or watch the news there had been a lot of cuts in the past 15 years to journalism. In fact of the thousands of kids who entered into the news program for higher education, only one would ever go on to actually report the news. The rest would be paper pushers enslaved to a lifetime of low wattage light bulbs in shitty little cubicles writing pieces they in fact would never deliver themselves. It was these past two months that Jack was supposed to being finding that ultimate news story to shoot himself into national stardom but instead he had sat around drunk thinking of a woman who probably out somewhere in the distance never gave him a second thought.

            But now Jack sat there lying on the sweat soaked sheets of his debauchery, cigarette balancing on his mouth as he stared at the moon like craters of his ceiling. He was 22, some might say even an adult, and he needed the story of a lifetime if he ever wanted to make it on the news one day and not be a paper pusher for the rest of his life. He started to think of love again and rather hastily decided that there was no such thing as love, it was time to focus everything in his might from now on to find that breaking news story, his success would be his spite to that ghost of a lover. But lying there looking at his ceiling he couldn’t imagine anything that would pull most people off their entertainment tubes to want to tune in to a news segment. The war now entering its seventh year was of course old news that most people didn’t care to hear about. To most people who had no connection to the war through a sibling, loved one, or friend it was an out of sight out of mind type of deal going on, there might as well have been no war going on to them. People chose what they wanted to hear in this day and age, if something displeased them on the news they could always change the channel and sadly must people did. But Jack knew that somewhere there was a story to break, all had been well and calm for too long, it was almost like a law of physics that no matter how good it may look something was always lurking in the background and he was determined to find it.

A Sneak Peak: Chapter 1 of Chemical Y

Editors Note: You may not know this but for some time Dr. Graybusch has dropped off the face of the earth and being the fierce animal and beast that he is has been roaming the country side losing his mind here and there and preaching to whoever will listen, he has sent work now and again sparingly but if you were ever wondering what happened to The American Nightmare it was disbanded and recycled into another story. What you are about to read Dr. Graybusch has been at work on for awhile but stressed that it is still on the drawing board.Some of it may be familar from the American Nightmare but the Dr. has been gracious enough to share the first chapter for now to wet our mouth with, leave feedback if you care. Also There are footnotes in this story so you'll have to scroll down to the very end to read them.

Dennis

2030

It was dark except for the faint source of light illuminating from the advertisements lighting the faint sprinkle of rain in the air that was dripping down Dennis’ long hair onto his crooked nose. Of course the lights were just as fake as the happiness the products were selling but Dennis couldn’t help feel his stomach start to growl as he stared at the large pictures of a succulent looking burger and steaming hot fries, turning to face another direction Dennis now found himself craving a cigarette as a giant billboard of Joe Camel gave the thumbs up in his dark sunglasses. Yeah, Joe Camel was so cool, Dennis thought, he smoked cigarettes and wore dark sunglasses no matter what time of the day. Fumbling around in his pockets Dennis tried searching for the pack of cigarettes he had but out in the distance he could see the headlights of the bus as he now started to frantically search for change to pay for the bus. It’s not like the bus would leave if he didn’t have the correct change ready but Dennis had so many things in his pockets it made it difficult to search for just a lousy couple of coins. By the time the bus pulled up to the corner of Eagle and Lankershim Dennis had found his change and hastily jumped into the bus not being able to take another second for his brain to process all the god damn pictures lighting up the ominous dark skies. The bus was already crowded but no one was looking up, as usual everyone was plugged into their PETs[1], Portable Entertainment, watching TV, listening to music, surfing the web, some even read the news but what a bore Dennis thought to himself. As the bus started to move again the lights dimmed leaving only the soft transparent lights spilling off their screen lighting up everyone’s bored faces. Dennis having spotted an open seat in the back walked to it and crumpled into the seat turning on his PET but it was met with the smiley face of doom.

            “Stupid piece of shit,” Dennis muttered to himself as he threw the PET back in his bag. This was supposed to be some beautiful work of genius, replacing TVs, computers, phones, your wallet, purse, even your personal notes yet he couldn’t help wonder why they couldn’t make the damn thing last longer than a year. With this PET dead, it marked the fifth one he had gone through in the last six years, the only work of genius Dennis could see here is on the profit line.  And who was the asshole that decided when the gadget went to shit a smiling face would pop up to reveal the news? It was like as if that stupid smiling face was saying, “hey sorry our genius child product went to shit but smile it’s nothing that money can’t fix!

            Yes, money could buy another PET but Dennis would need more money to buy another one when the next inevitably died and the process would keep going till he finally gave up wasting his money or he along with the PET finally died. It was becoming a tiring scheme and money was actually running out for him now. A year out of Higher Education and Dennis felt he had nothing to show. A few jobs here and there but they ultimately led to nowhere but the leaders kept reassuring us on our PETs that times were hard but we were making our way out of this economic slump. For most people though it was easier to ignore a plummeting economy, as long as they had some make believe money stored in some database along with their PET, it was easier to ignore the ugly face of depression when it’s in your rear view mirror, eyes on the road and keep on barreling forward they said, nothing to see here.

            Of course Dennis had learned the hard way of ignoring facts; it’s easy to forget what’s going on in a country when you face no real responsibility. In his Higher Education, he had partied as hard as he could and celebrated the following of inane entertainment. Sure there was learning in higher education but only when necessary. With pop culture oozing out everywhere Dennis and thousands of other students masked reality in a subculture of drugs, debauchery and self importance. And nothing was more important than the ratings on the FBFN[2]. A long time ago history told us that reality became a television show but our generation had lost interest till they brought reality to our front door.  The internet kings finally found reality conveniently brought to you by TV and the internet. For a hefty price you could have the FB camera and the chance of becoming your own celebrity. It was amazing what people would watch. Practically the same thing you could see if you just stepped outside but now you could keep tabs on your friends like you were there with them. Ratings were presented throughout regions as each region was dominated by their own local celebrities. It was a society of self congratulating beautiful people obsessed with each other and amazed at how they rose to fame, for which reason none knew. The more networking the more friends you found through Facebook, the more viewers you essentially had. Soon we had people like Sheshe, Johnny O![3] and countless others with millions of friends and viewers but who were essentially all alone. They stood for nothing, had no beliefs except that in the essence of excess they were free.

            And the people they watched, oh how they watched, it was quite unlike anything I had ever seen. PETs were dominated with their names and their videos of essentially nothingness in bars and clubs.  Some even wrote books even though they didn’t have anything to say, they still felt they should be heard. For awhile Dennis followed it all and its excesses up until the death of Patrick, his older brother. Patrick was the oldest in the family so when the declaration of The Only Justified War[4] came students completing the 12^th grade were left with two options one was to take up the calling as a Patriot and join the army and the other was to take part in the Leaders[5] North American Higher Education Program that was meant to educate a new citizen, not of the US or Canada or Mexico but a citizen of the North American Alliance, to compete in the battle of brains against our enemy. The only thing was the higher education program was costly and you needed the right test scores to be accepted. Patrick joked that he didn’t have the brains or the money for the Higher Education program. So upon completing 12^th grade Patrick was shipped off to fight for our rights.

Dennis and his family were proud of Patrick serving for their country but out of sight out of mind and after three months of Patrick’s absence it was back to business as usual. Dennis was never proud of it but when you’re 17 years old, what’s happening outside your realm doesn’t really seem to exist. Sure there were movies he watched showing brave soldiers just like Patrick fighting for our country and Dennis and his friends cheered in the theatres and he would leave having an almost romantic curious feeling towards war. But six months later when Patrick came home for visit, there was something different with him, sure he smiled and it was still that infectious smile leaving dimples on his cheeks that girls fell apart for but his eyes had changed. Once vibrant and blue they were now dull and lifeless and it seemed there was something missing, it was like as if he was smiling but his eyes showed something different, fear. Patrick wasn’t the same and how could he be, he had killed a man and many more Dennis believed and no matter how much he persisted that it didn’t affect him or the other soldiers you knew they were full of shit. Patrick that night stayed up all night with Dennis telling him he needed to hit the books that he should avoid the war at all cost. He went on saying there was nothing he could do to avoid it but Dennis was free to have a choice and he’d be dammed to see him flush it away. 

            So Dennis did what Patrick said and he hit the books, he studied like one does when they know they face life or death. Dennis gave up TV and his PET that year knowing that of a population of 500 million only a million would be excepted into the higher education program and the rest would be shipped off to some island or another to fight a justified war. He could still remember his parents being so proud when he announced his acceptance into the Higher Education Program Act.  He had had high hopes for the program and when he arrived on campus a leader was there to tell us we had made a great decision but he warned us it would be costly, it would be hard work but in the end the rewards would be fruitful. Looking at the thousands of other kids like ants in an ant farm he couldn’t help feeling proud that they were going to be making a difference. Perhaps there was a Nobel peace prize winner in the crowd or a future leader of the Country, yes sir they were the future and the future looked bright. But almost like everything Dennis had ever bought the excitement and newness wore off and he soon found himself in a system so backward with a population dominated by debauchery, care free, swindling folk who already knew their place in life.

Six years after Patrick’s deployment they were still in that god forsaken country fighting for something Dennis had long forgotten about when news came of his death. Surrounded by an excess of partying and depraved people Dennis had forgotten there was a war, that there was trouble just outside his door and now with the reminder of death rasping at his door he made damn sure to try his best to keep forgetting. That last year he numbed himself every night with whiskey and grass scraping barely by to graduate. In the end they kicked him and thousands of other so called “Students” on the ass out to the curb and told them to get a job. Except the watered down higher education degree did not do much to find a job of real worth. But perhaps he had been looking at it all wrong, for Dennis had had five jobs in the last year and that’s a pretty impressive resume they would tell him, but every job Dennis found himself in ended in the same dead end alley that countless of other dreams had come to die to before.

Lately Dennis was just feeling mad, mad as hell. But he wasn’t sure what to be mad about, was there no one else to blame but himself? Sometimes in his darkest moments he would think of the night that Patrick came home and sometimes he wished he had never listened to that advice, he would think that it may have well just have been better if he too had been shipped out to some island to die for a justifiable war, it was better than just sitting here waiting to die while he worked some mundane job he was forced into to pay the cost of madness, which was the cost of higher education[6]. Of course these were his darker days, some days he felt grateful for the jobs he had had considering the unemployment numbers but they were never the jobs that had been promised when he signed on to the cost of higher education.  

            When Dennis stopped feeling sorry for himself he noticed the most peculiar thing, a young man, probably no different in age than Dennis, sat down across the bus aisle from his seat. Though he looked to be Dennis’s age he had long wild hair that was grey, or almost silver like. It was almost maddening seeing such a young face with hair that reminded Dennis of his Great Aunt Joan. It was the most curious site, his hair wet from the rain hung over his face like dabs of grey from a paint brush, hiding any expression. He was bundled up but not in any rain gear so his clothes were soaking wet but as he unzipped one of the three jackets Dennis noticed what seem to be a book in his jacket pocket! No one seemed to notice but Dennis, he held his breath half expecting to see a SWAT team come crashing in to take the book back. He hadn’t seen a book in over ten years not since the epidemic of the Pesticide Flu. Dennis could still remember it he must have been twelve or thirteen years old, everyday he’d come home from school to hear his mother and father talking about someone else dying. No one knew what was going on, just that one day you’d be fine and the next day you’d be dead. The North American Alliance was only under its first year and they were dealing with a sick economy and a sicker population. They had come out with two vaccines which were expensive and not guaranteed to work but it was only when John Sommers, a scientist, announced that the epidemic had come from certain pesticides that had grown out of the paper most commonly found in books, that things started to finally look up. The Leaders announced that all libraries and books should be burned but they reassured the people that every book would be digitally copied into databases to be available for all in the PET book stores. Dennis like most of the kids his age never cared for reading, so the event didn’t bother him and once the books and libraries were nothing but smoldering remains of thousands of years of knowledge did the deaths finally stop. People danced and rejoiced in the street when the epidemic was officially announced to be over but Dennis could remember his father muttering something under his breath about ignorance that never made sense to Dennis.

            “1^st and Delmar” announced the computer on the bus interrupting Dennis’ thoughts. He stood up and started to make his way towards the exit but out of the corner of his eye he watched this new stranger and out of nowhere he felt his blood turn ice cold but couldn’t decipher if it was the cold rainy wind rushing from the bus doors whipping his hair into his eyes or was it that when he hopped off the bus he could have sworn his new friend, the stranger, had smiled at him.

[1] PET, Portable Entertainment- Was first introduced 20 years ago as the genius of innovation, this small tab no bigger than a classic notebook allowed people to bring entertainment wherever they went with the power to surf the net, read books, watch movies, watch tv shows, read the news, listen to music, make phone calls, video chat, it even worked as your purse or wallet making paying for anything an easy swipe away.

[2] FBFN- FaceBook Friends Network, was introduced 2024. This feature on facebook allowed people to be followed by camera’s making their own life a reality TV show.

[3] Sheshe, Johnny O! – first mega celebrities from the Facebook Network, SheShe famous for her excessive drinking and hooking up with random dudes, also see her book Sheshe’s Guide to be the Ultimate Whore. Johnny O! famous for lighting farts on fire and smoking a lot of weed and just staring at the camera for hours on end. Seriously hours on end, you think people wouldn’t watch this but people said they could see the window to his soul sometimes.

[4] The Only Justified War being fought in India and the people were told it was of course justifiable but how it was no one actually knew.

[5] Leaders: After the failed experiment called Democracy came to an end a New Age Government came from the North American Alliance, constituting of Mexico, Canada and the US. There was no president but a body of Leaders who voted and if there ever came to a tie in a vote the Grand Leader would place his deciding vote.

[6] The Job Dennis currently was working at with the wage he was making would take him the next fifty years to pay off the debt that accumulated while in the Higher Education program.

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