Puppets (A CD Piece)
Mar 2, 2021 13:11:19 GMT -5
via mobile
CJ Phoenix, Lissie Hope, and 6 more like this
Post by Johnny Bacchus on Mar 2, 2021 13:11:19 GMT -5
Part 1:
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I could’ve stayed in bed far past 11. If I did that, though, the Best Western would’ve charged me for another day, and fuck that. I couldn’t spend one more fucking hour in Indiana – there’s something carcinogenic in the water here. I’ve never felt more like I understood the pathos of Mayor Pete and Mike Pence than this wretched week.
I’d been up late last night – it was a hazy recollection when exactly I went to sleep, but I knew I got to the hotel around 10. Surveying the room, I was in awe. How many of these empty bottles of Korbel accounted for the stickiness of the carpet? Would I find Trey curled up in the shower? What’s this powdery substance on the face of the Pure Title: an upper or a downer?
My phone wasn’t on the nightstand – where could it be? A large dent in the wall suggested some violent hurling of a small, dense projectile, but outside of a few shards of glass on the carpet below, there was no trace. It wasn’t an issue I cared to pursue further. I needed to brush my teeth.
I had deep bags under my eyes, but at least my skin was clear. I’d slept in my contacts, and this was faced with the decision to take them out and forgo sunglasses or deal with the dry itchy feeling on my eyeballs. It was a problem I wasn’t ready to tackle without showering.
No Trey in the bathroom – good lord, was this all the work of Hurricane Johnny? The unchecked viciousness suggested the lack of a more stabilizing opinion, but did I really drink all these crushed cans of beer alone? My phone was sitting on the toilet tank, and I shuddered to think what could be awaiting me.
I hadn’t changed my lock screen. A notification from her covered her eyes, so at least she couldn’t judge me in this state. (Not that Lissie hadn’t been in this state a million times before – christ, talk about a comment to never say aloud.). The notification was, of course, from her. But only one text message was surprising. Time to receipt? 2:37 am. My finger slide over the lock button, carefully not to hit an edge of cracked glass.
It was not her only message.
10 Missed Calls – Eight from her, one from Mom and Dad, one from Jenn. I hesitated – my only swerving – and then I stepped into the shower to start moving forward.
I’d been up late last night – it was a hazy recollection when exactly I went to sleep, but I knew I got to the hotel around 10. Surveying the room, I was in awe. How many of these empty bottles of Korbel accounted for the stickiness of the carpet? Would I find Trey curled up in the shower? What’s this powdery substance on the face of the Pure Title: an upper or a downer?
Had I called her?
I had deep bags under my eyes, but at least my skin was clear. I’d slept in my contacts, and this was faced with the decision to take them out and forgo sunglasses or deal with the dry itchy feeling on my eyeballs. It was a problem I wasn’t ready to tackle without showering.
No Trey in the bathroom – good lord, was this all the work of Hurricane Johnny? The unchecked viciousness suggested the lack of a more stabilizing opinion, but did I really drink all these crushed cans of beer alone? My phone was sitting on the toilet tank, and I shuddered to think what could be awaiting me.
I hadn’t changed my lock screen. A notification from her covered her eyes, so at least she couldn’t judge me in this state. (Not that Lissie hadn’t been in this state a million times before – christ, talk about a comment to never say aloud.). The notification was, of course, from her. But only one text message was surprising. Time to receipt? 2:37 am. My finger slide over the lock button, carefully not to hit an edge of cracked glass.
It was not her only message.
10 Missed Calls – Eight from her, one from Mom and Dad, one from Jenn. I hesitated – my only swerving – and then I stepped into the shower to start moving forward.