Homer and I tore down I-15 South toward Los Angeles. At 100 mph, my Toyota Echo was a bit wobbly, but neither of us cared. I was completely annihilated on Jameson and Homer was sitting in the passenger seat smoking yet another oxycontin. With the windows down, the wind was roaring.
"Why the hell do you smoke that stuff, Homer," I shouted. "You're gonna OD if you're not careful."
"Bullshit dude," he replied, with a laugh. "This stuff is basically no worse than pot. Plus, if I gotta take a piss test, it leaves my system after just a few days."
"Whatever dude."
Homer just laughed some more and took another drag from his pipe. He usually smoked it on a flat piece of tinfoil, but it made sense to use the pipe considering the wind. After he was done, he stuck his head out the window and howled.
The road was a blur for me and due to my condition, I couldn't see beyond my headlights. We were driving to LA to try our luck at an audition for a TV show called "The Voice". I figured with my looks, that'd be my only shot. As for Homer, well, he was there for moral support.
We didn't hear about the auditions until recently and now we were hell bent on getting to them in time.
It was about 2 AM and I was tired from a long day at work. Homer was wide awake but relaxed, having spent the whole day sleeping and smoking his "cottons" as he called them. Lucky son of a bitch.
"Dude, you're veering off the road," said Homer. "Do you want me to drive?"
I eased the car back into the proper lane and glanced over at him. "Hell no," I said. "I let you drive and there's no way we make it. At least this way we have a chance."
"Maybe, but with the way you're swerving and nodding off you're bound to attract unwanted attention."
I just shook my head. "Go back to looking out the window and let me concentrate."
Homer shrugged and stuck his head back out the window. I glanced over at him, his hair flying in the wind, and wondered how the hell he could do that. I'd tried it once, and the air being forced into my face was just plain uncomfortable. But hey, to each his own, right?
The road started to fade and I thought that maybe something was wrong with my car. It had nearly a quarter million miles and something was bound to go. I thought it might be my alternator when I started to hear Homer shouting.
"Holy SHIT! Wake up, dude," he was screaming, seemingly from far away. I felt a dull thud on my shoulder, then a harder thud. I glanced furiously at Homer.
"What the hell man," I raged. "You trying to get us killed hitting my like that?" I must have lost some control when he hit me because we were riding the gravel on the side of the highway. I gently eased the car back onto the blacktop.
"Me? Dumb ass, you just fell asleep!"
"What the hell are you..." I shut my mouth when I realized that the headlights were just fine. "Holy shit."
"Yeah," said Homer. "Look, I know you're one helluva driver. But you've been downing whiskey since you got home and you've been working all day. Maybe I should take over."
His reasoning seemed sound enough for me. As usual, even when he was high as a kite, Homer could look at things calmly and rationally. That's part of what I liked about him.
"I really think that it would be best if I drive. Just pull over and we'll make the switch."
I gave it some thought. That was twice now that I'd started blacking out. I really wanted to make this audition, but Homer was right. If I kept driving, sooner or later we'd either get busted by the cops or worse.
"Alright," I said slowing the car and pulling over to the side of the road.
Though there weren't many, the cars that were on the highway flew past us in a blur. I got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side while Homer hopped over into my seat. He was adjusting the mirror as I sat down and buckled in.
"The gas is the one on the right, isn't it," he asked. I just stared at him. "Geez dude, relax. I'm kidding. I watch TV you know."
His response to my glare wasn't very comforting but there wasn't much I could say. He checked to make sure the way was clear, then floored it. My very relaxed body slapped back against the seat and we were off.
"Hot damn! I love this driving stuff, man. You outta let me do it more often," Homer laughed.
"You don't even have a license, so just take it easy."
Homer looked over at me with a great big smile. "What the hell do I need a license for? This stuff isn't...oh shit!"
The Echo was up to about 90 and while looking at me he had nearly slammed into a Smart Car.
"Gentle with the steering, dumb ass," I chided him. "The Echo isn't a race car. At this speed you could totally flip us. And I'll be so pissed if you get us killed and I can't get to the audition."
Homer, as usual, just laughed. Sometimes, I really envied his carefree attitude. I reached under the passenger seat and opened up the little drawer that was hidden away there. I had a small bottle of Jameson and opened it up. It wasn't like I was driving anymore tonight.
"Are you sure that's a good idea," asked Homer. "You don't wanna be hung over for the audition."
"I'll be fine," I said as I took a swig. "You know us Asians. We don't get hangovers."
"Bullshit," Homer coughed. He looked at me and started laughing. I reached over and mussed his hair.
"Fuck off," I said with a grin. I looked back out the window and watched the world around me slowly begin to fade. I didn't know how fast Homer was driving, but he must have been really pushing it.
We started to pass cars like they were standing still. Their taillights blended together into solid red stripes. Mmm. A Red Stripe sounded good right now.
As we flew past the billboards I began to chuckle. I had just noticed what must have been a sign for the local police department, complete with flashing lights. What the hell police department advertised like that?
"Uh oh," said Homer. "Looks like we got a problem."
I was starting to fade again and glanced over at Homer. "Relax man. We'll get there in time. Hey. Why are you...slowing...down."
I must have fallen asleep. For a bit.
When I woke up I realized we were stopped on the side of the road. I looked at Homer through an alcoholic stupor. He looked tense. Weird.
Suddenly, there was a loud banging on my window. I jumped at the sound, then slowly turned my head to see who it was that was hitting my car.
A police officer, flashlight in hand, was staring at me. He motioned for me to lower my window. I obliged him.
"Son," he said. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Look, officer," I slurred. "I know I'm not supposed to be drinking, but I don't see the harm if I'm not the one at the wheel."
"That's all well and good, son," he replied. "But are you insane or something? Have you seriously been letting him drive?"
"Officer, he's plenty capable. Plus, I'm totally trashed. He's not so bad."
"You sure about that? Did you look at his eyes?"
I looked over at Homer. His eyes did seem to be a bit red.
"Is he high or something," the officer asked, then quickly shifted his focus to me. "Are you?"
"Honestly officer, I've just been drinking a bit."
"Don't tell him that I've been smoking my cottons dude," said Homer. "Don't rat me out."
My head spun toward Homer, a bit to fast because it seemed to take my vision a moment to catch up. "How the hell are you gonna warn me not to tell him you been smokin' cottons. You just said that out loud stupid."
The officer tapped the side of the car. "Son, I'm gonna need you to step outta the vehicle, please."
"Oh come on, officer! I told you he's fine!"
"Buddy, for one, your friend there has been smoking oxycontin, which you've just very plainly spoken. And for two," he paused a moment. "For two, you've got some serious issues and might just be a danger to yourself."
"What the hell are you talking about," I, admittedly, whined. "I'm just a little bit drunk!"
"Son, I don't care how drunk you are. You gotta have some major issues if you're letting your dog smoke oxycontins and drive a goddamn car."
"Oh," I said as I mulled it over in my head. He did seem to have kind of a point.
I got out of the car.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Plenty of Fish
"I love you," said Alex. He spoke to the picture as if she were there. The pain in the pit of his stomach, the ache of emptiness was a reminder of what he'd lost.
He thought about her now, at 4 AM, and thought about what the future would bring. He remembered, with a smile, when he had spoken to her on the phone late at night, many years ago.
He had told her the story of the Princess and the Goblin.
*****
Once upon a time, there was a princess who was pledged to be married to a prince. The prince was not a bad man, but he didn't love her the way she wanted him to. He was often cold, often didn't pay her any mind. It made the princess sad.
One day, she went for a walk in the woods and thought about the prince. When she thought of being forced to marry him, she began to cry. She felt lost.
And as she looked around, she realized that she was lost. She didn't recognize anything, but saw a small cabin. There was smoke coming from the chimney.
As she approached the cabin, looking for help, the occupant came around from the back. She was startled and then afraid. It was a goblin. He hadn't seen her yet, and she thought she might sneak away. But then, she heard a growl.
She turned and saw a huge beast. It's eyes glowed red and they were looking at her. Before she could even think, she was running. The beast gave chase and was gaining on her.
She tripped on a tree root and bumped her head. In a daze, she thought she was done for, when a green blur suddenly flew past her. It crashed into the beast sending it sprawling.
There, between her and the great monster, stood the goblin. He held an axe in his hand and was crouched low, prepared to do battle. As she watched, her vision blurring, the beast gained its feet and roared. She passed out.
When she came to, she looked around. She stared up at a wooded ceiling. It was a simple place, with a table, chair and a rug on the floor. A few pots and pans hung from hooks near a small fireplace. There was an axe on the wall.
She remembered an axe and became nervous. When she turned her head again, she was staring into the face of the goblin. She was afraid, but there seemed to be a look of concern on his face.
"Please, don't be afraid," he said. "I won't hurt you. You hit your head when you fell."
"What of the beast," asked the Princess.
"The beast is dead. I brought you in here where it is safe," replied the goblin. "Once you're feeling better, I can show you back to the castle."
"You know who I am?"
"Of course I do," said the goblin. "But enough of that. How do you feel?"
The princess thought for the briefest time. Her head was still swimming a bit. "Not great," she said.
"Then stay here and rest. We can talk if you'd like."
The princess and the goblin spoke for the rest of the night. He told her how it was that he came to live in the woods. She told him how she came to be lost in them.
By the time they were done talking the sun was coming up. They had talked all night.
It would not be the last time they would do so.
"Will I see you again," asked the princess.
"If you would like."
"Yes, I would," she replied.
"Then I would be happy to see you."
The goblin showed her the way back to the castle. He showed her the trees that she could use to guide her back to the cabin. She used the trees to find her way many times, until she no longer needed them.
The princess and the goblin spent a lot of time together, and she was often away from the castle. The prince she was promised to noticed these absences, and one day he decided to follow her.
When she reached her destination and the prince saw this, he flew into a rage. He drew his sword and attacked! The princess tried to stop him, but he knocked her aside. He swung at the goblin and battle ensued.
The prince was very good with a sword and nearly had the goblin beaten, when there was a loud crack. The prince's eyes rolled into his head and he dropped to the ground. The princess was standing there over him, a large tree branch in her hands.
"Are you okay," asked the goblin.
"Me," she replied. "What about you? I was so worried he would hurt you. Is he dead?"
"It sure looks like it," said the goblin. "I'll take care of him."
A few hours later, the goblin returned.
"He wasn't dead," said the goblin. "But he'll have quite a headache."
"What did you do with him," asked the princess.
"He had a horse. I put him on it and told him to never step foot in these woods again. I made him swear to it."
"I...I was so worried about you," cried the princess. She threw her arms around him and sobbed.
The goblin held her for awhile, then gently pushed her back. He held her at arms length and looked into her eyes.
"Princess," he said. "I know that I'm a goblin and that I don't have much. But I also know that I love you."
The princess was speechless. She hadn't expected this from him.
"I know that you could have countless wealth, but if you were to stay with me, you would always have my love. I'll always do my best to treat you right. I know I won't always be perfect, and I'm sure we'll have our good and bad days. But I'll always love you. No matter what."
A tear ran down the princess' cheek. A smile slowly crept onto her face and she threw her arms around him. "I love you, too."
They held each other then. And while you may think that a princess and a goblin would never belong together, you would be wrong. They lived the rest of their lives together.
The goblin was right. They had there ups and downs. Sometimes they argued. Sometimes, they even went away from each other after an especially tough fight. At one point, they even split up for over a year. But it was only temporary.
Together, they traveled the world. They lived and loved and had beautiful children. They grew old together.
They did many, many things together, but there was one thing that they never did. They never stopped loving one another.
The End
*****
Alex smiled at the memory as a tear ran down his face; it had been such a silly, poorly worded tale. But they were young. He was much older now. He had been with her, and loved her, for over 25 years. He placed the picture of her back onto the table, next to a clipping from the newspaper which he looked at.
The picture for her obituary had been recent. He had wanted to use one from when they had first met. He wanted to use it because that was how he had always seen her.
Even when the first few greys started to show. Even when she had gone on a cruise with her family for a week and had gained some weight. Even after their first child, when she had stretch marks, it hadn't mattered to him. He hadn't seemed to notice. In his eyes, she was always the same, beautiful girl that he had met so long ago.
It had been over five years since she had passed. Friends and family, even the children, said that maybe he should try to move on. They said they knew that he loved her and knew how hard it was for him.
But they didn't know.
Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night, he would put his arm where she should have been, almost as though he expected her to be there. Sometimes he would wake up at night because he thought he had heard her calling to him.
But she was gone. He would only hear her voice in his head. And while it would sometimes bring tears to his eyes, when he thought of her, he was happy.
There were plenty of fish in the sea, but his was the catch of a lifetime. He didn't want to keep fishing. He didn't need to.
He thought about her now, at 4 AM, and thought about what the future would bring. He remembered, with a smile, when he had spoken to her on the phone late at night, many years ago.
He had told her the story of the Princess and the Goblin.
*****
Once upon a time, there was a princess who was pledged to be married to a prince. The prince was not a bad man, but he didn't love her the way she wanted him to. He was often cold, often didn't pay her any mind. It made the princess sad.
One day, she went for a walk in the woods and thought about the prince. When she thought of being forced to marry him, she began to cry. She felt lost.
And as she looked around, she realized that she was lost. She didn't recognize anything, but saw a small cabin. There was smoke coming from the chimney.
As she approached the cabin, looking for help, the occupant came around from the back. She was startled and then afraid. It was a goblin. He hadn't seen her yet, and she thought she might sneak away. But then, she heard a growl.
She turned and saw a huge beast. It's eyes glowed red and they were looking at her. Before she could even think, she was running. The beast gave chase and was gaining on her.
She tripped on a tree root and bumped her head. In a daze, she thought she was done for, when a green blur suddenly flew past her. It crashed into the beast sending it sprawling.
There, between her and the great monster, stood the goblin. He held an axe in his hand and was crouched low, prepared to do battle. As she watched, her vision blurring, the beast gained its feet and roared. She passed out.
When she came to, she looked around. She stared up at a wooded ceiling. It was a simple place, with a table, chair and a rug on the floor. A few pots and pans hung from hooks near a small fireplace. There was an axe on the wall.
She remembered an axe and became nervous. When she turned her head again, she was staring into the face of the goblin. She was afraid, but there seemed to be a look of concern on his face.
"Please, don't be afraid," he said. "I won't hurt you. You hit your head when you fell."
"What of the beast," asked the Princess.
"The beast is dead. I brought you in here where it is safe," replied the goblin. "Once you're feeling better, I can show you back to the castle."
"You know who I am?"
"Of course I do," said the goblin. "But enough of that. How do you feel?"
The princess thought for the briefest time. Her head was still swimming a bit. "Not great," she said.
"Then stay here and rest. We can talk if you'd like."
The princess and the goblin spoke for the rest of the night. He told her how it was that he came to live in the woods. She told him how she came to be lost in them.
By the time they were done talking the sun was coming up. They had talked all night.
It would not be the last time they would do so.
"Will I see you again," asked the princess.
"If you would like."
"Yes, I would," she replied.
"Then I would be happy to see you."
The goblin showed her the way back to the castle. He showed her the trees that she could use to guide her back to the cabin. She used the trees to find her way many times, until she no longer needed them.
The princess and the goblin spent a lot of time together, and she was often away from the castle. The prince she was promised to noticed these absences, and one day he decided to follow her.
When she reached her destination and the prince saw this, he flew into a rage. He drew his sword and attacked! The princess tried to stop him, but he knocked her aside. He swung at the goblin and battle ensued.
The prince was very good with a sword and nearly had the goblin beaten, when there was a loud crack. The prince's eyes rolled into his head and he dropped to the ground. The princess was standing there over him, a large tree branch in her hands.
"Are you okay," asked the goblin.
"Me," she replied. "What about you? I was so worried he would hurt you. Is he dead?"
"It sure looks like it," said the goblin. "I'll take care of him."
A few hours later, the goblin returned.
"He wasn't dead," said the goblin. "But he'll have quite a headache."
"What did you do with him," asked the princess.
"He had a horse. I put him on it and told him to never step foot in these woods again. I made him swear to it."
"I...I was so worried about you," cried the princess. She threw her arms around him and sobbed.
The goblin held her for awhile, then gently pushed her back. He held her at arms length and looked into her eyes.
"Princess," he said. "I know that I'm a goblin and that I don't have much. But I also know that I love you."
The princess was speechless. She hadn't expected this from him.
"I know that you could have countless wealth, but if you were to stay with me, you would always have my love. I'll always do my best to treat you right. I know I won't always be perfect, and I'm sure we'll have our good and bad days. But I'll always love you. No matter what."
A tear ran down the princess' cheek. A smile slowly crept onto her face and she threw her arms around him. "I love you, too."
They held each other then. And while you may think that a princess and a goblin would never belong together, you would be wrong. They lived the rest of their lives together.
The goblin was right. They had there ups and downs. Sometimes they argued. Sometimes, they even went away from each other after an especially tough fight. At one point, they even split up for over a year. But it was only temporary.
Together, they traveled the world. They lived and loved and had beautiful children. They grew old together.
They did many, many things together, but there was one thing that they never did. They never stopped loving one another.
The End
*****
Alex smiled at the memory as a tear ran down his face; it had been such a silly, poorly worded tale. But they were young. He was much older now. He had been with her, and loved her, for over 25 years. He placed the picture of her back onto the table, next to a clipping from the newspaper which he looked at.
The picture for her obituary had been recent. He had wanted to use one from when they had first met. He wanted to use it because that was how he had always seen her.
Even when the first few greys started to show. Even when she had gone on a cruise with her family for a week and had gained some weight. Even after their first child, when she had stretch marks, it hadn't mattered to him. He hadn't seemed to notice. In his eyes, she was always the same, beautiful girl that he had met so long ago.
It had been over five years since she had passed. Friends and family, even the children, said that maybe he should try to move on. They said they knew that he loved her and knew how hard it was for him.
But they didn't know.
Sometimes it hurt. Sometimes, when he lay in bed at night, he would put his arm where she should have been, almost as though he expected her to be there. Sometimes he would wake up at night because he thought he had heard her calling to him.
But she was gone. He would only hear her voice in his head. And while it would sometimes bring tears to his eyes, when he thought of her, he was happy.
There were plenty of fish in the sea, but his was the catch of a lifetime. He didn't want to keep fishing. He didn't need to.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Best Buds
"I hate this part, Homer," said Alex. "Waiting for videos to convert from one format to another blows."
Homer looked at him and sighed. "I know you do buddy. That's probably the only reason you're conversing with me."
Alex looked offended. He had known Homer for a few months and the two of them got along pretty well. He considered him a friend.
"That's nonsense and you know it," Alex replied. "I talk to you all the time. When I go outside to smoke, when I'm watching tv. All the time."
"I guess, but the way you talk to me seems a bit impersonal sometimes."
Alex couldn't believe they were having this conversation. "How can you say that dude? I would say that at least 90 percent of the time I'm talking to you, I'm looking right in the eye. And hell, a lot of those times I'm running my fingers through your hair or massaging your back."
"I suppose that's true."
"You suppose? Dude, what about the times when I'm rubbing your stomach," Alex asked. "Do you consider that impersonal?"
Homer just looked away with a huff. Alex couldn't believe that he was talking to him like this. After everything he'd done for him in the last few months, he thought Homer was being pretty ungrateful.
"What the hell is your problem?"
"I don't have a problem," said Homer. "You're the one with a problem."
"What the HELL are you talking about? What did I do," Alex yelled. He was getting seriously frustrated with the way Homer was behaving. "How do I have a problem? I'm always nice to you and I do talk to you. You're practically my best friend!"
"And you don't think that might be unhealthy," Homer questioned.
Alex looked incredulous. He was offended and hurt that this was even coming out of Homer's mouth. He thought they were friends.
"Why would I think that talking to my friend is a problem, or unhealthy?"
"Dude," said Homer, nonchalantly. "I'm a fucking dog."
Homer looked at him and sighed. "I know you do buddy. That's probably the only reason you're conversing with me."
Alex looked offended. He had known Homer for a few months and the two of them got along pretty well. He considered him a friend.
"That's nonsense and you know it," Alex replied. "I talk to you all the time. When I go outside to smoke, when I'm watching tv. All the time."
"I guess, but the way you talk to me seems a bit impersonal sometimes."
Alex couldn't believe they were having this conversation. "How can you say that dude? I would say that at least 90 percent of the time I'm talking to you, I'm looking right in the eye. And hell, a lot of those times I'm running my fingers through your hair or massaging your back."
"I suppose that's true."
"You suppose? Dude, what about the times when I'm rubbing your stomach," Alex asked. "Do you consider that impersonal?"
Homer just looked away with a huff. Alex couldn't believe that he was talking to him like this. After everything he'd done for him in the last few months, he thought Homer was being pretty ungrateful.
"What the hell is your problem?"
"I don't have a problem," said Homer. "You're the one with a problem."
"What the HELL are you talking about? What did I do," Alex yelled. He was getting seriously frustrated with the way Homer was behaving. "How do I have a problem? I'm always nice to you and I do talk to you. You're practically my best friend!"
"And you don't think that might be unhealthy," Homer questioned.
Alex looked incredulous. He was offended and hurt that this was even coming out of Homer's mouth. He thought they were friends.
"Why would I think that talking to my friend is a problem, or unhealthy?"
"Dude," said Homer, nonchalantly. "I'm a fucking dog."
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Because I Know
I love to be in love with you
Though I know it hurts me so
You ask me how I know I do
I say, "Because, I know."
I know that you are trying
To move on with your life
But when you are alone at night
You think of being my wife
I love you enough to listen
When you said to walk away
But don't doubt me for one moment
I'll prove my love to you one day
And when I soon come back to you
and when you come back to me
We'll hold each close until
mountains fall into the seas
I love to be in love with you
Though right now it brings me pain
I'll bear the hurt until the time
I can hold you close again
Though I know it hurts me so
You ask me how I know I do
I say, "Because, I know."
I know that you are trying
To move on with your life
But when you are alone at night
You think of being my wife
I love you enough to listen
When you said to walk away
But don't doubt me for one moment
I'll prove my love to you one day
And when I soon come back to you
and when you come back to me
We'll hold each close until
mountains fall into the seas
I love to be in love with you
Though right now it brings me pain
I'll bear the hurt until the time
I can hold you close again
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
I Want To
I want to scream "I love you"
But you already know I do.
I want to be beside you there
But I know that you don't care
I want to but I won't
Because I know that you don't
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
The End, My Friend
Jack stared down the barrel of the .40 caliber Colt Python. Its black, polished steel offered the promise of a quick death to anyone or anything on receiving end. Unfortunately for Jack, he was on the wrong end.
"Is this really necessary," he ask impatiently.
"Trust me," said Allen. "This isn't going to hurt you one bit."
Jack thought about that statement. Of course it wouldn't hurt him. Hell, at this range he didn't think he'd even hear the damn thing go off.
"That's a given," he spat. "You got hollow points in that sucker?"
"Yup."
Sighing, Jack thought about what had led up to this moment. He'd been riding the People Mover through Detroit, on his way from Grand Circus Park Station to Joe Louis Arena where he'd parked. After a short lunch at the Hockey Town Cafe, he'd made his way to the station.
The walk wouldn't have been too taxing, but after the Tigers' game, he was worn out. Plus, he hadn't ridden the People Mover since he was a kid and thought it would be nice to see the city from its vantage point.
It was pretty crowded because of the game, but he managed to get a good seat with a view. The Mover lurched to a start and he was looking outside, enjoying the sight of the city as the sun began to set.
He was lost in though, when there was a sudden rumble. The sound of an explosion not far in the distance was the precursor to the deafening screech as the Mover's brakes locked up.
People jarred forward. Briefcases were dropped, drinks spilled and cell phones went flying. As soon as that had begun, there was the feeling of weightlessness. The Mover was falling.
It didn't last long, he was sure of that. But it seemed to happen in slow motion. People were thrown against the ceiling, glass was breaking and there was screaming.
The impact was the last thing he recalled. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair looking down the barrel of a gun.
"You know, I'm not sure what you're trying to accomplish," said Jack. "But there has to be another way."
Allen just laughed. "No, I need to prove this to you. You need to know what you're capable of."
"I already know," Jack said with a smirk. "And wasting a round from that handgun isn't going to make it more or less true."
Allen was taken aback. He stared at Jack with a mixture of curiosity and anger.
"You knew and you never did anything?"
"I've known my whole life," said Jack. "How would feel, knowing you're different?"
His anger began to build up. His muscles began to tense.
"Do you think I like being like this? Do you think for one second I like being different from everyone else?"
Allen stared at him for awhile. "But why hide it? Why not use is for good?"
For a moment there was silence. It wasn't that Jack hadn't thought about it, about what he would be capable of. But what he wanted most of all was to just fit in. It'd taken over 400 years for someone to figure it out. It'd taken his best friend for the last 20 of them. But what he'd done to prove it was an atrocity. It was sick and wrong.
"Allen," said Jack. "You're like a brother to me. But if you want to go down this road, there is no good that will come from it."
Anger, like a black cloud, crossed Allen's face. "How dare you!"
He cocked the gun and pressed it against Jack's temple. Jack started to laugh.
"Who the hell do you think you are," he demanded. "You have a gun to my head, claiming to know what I am, and yet you still think you'll walk away from this?"
Anger was replaced by fear. Allen took a step back.
"You don't really know what I am, do you," asked Jack. "What? You think I'm some kind of superhero? Or maybe an immortal being from space, huh?"
"Well if you aren't that," said Allen, again shoving the gun into Jack's face. "Then what the hell are you?"
Jack chuckled quietly. "Allen," he said. "Have you ever heard of the Nephilim?"
Allen's eyes went wide at the word. "What? You mean the earthly children of angels?"
"Yeah," said Jack. "You know, over the years we've gotten a bad rap. But what you might not realize is that us younger ones were actually sent here to protect you."
Allen thought about this for a moment. "No. Nephilim are supposed to be giants and you're barely five six. Plus, from everything I've read they raped and pillaged. I mean hell, aren't Nephilim half the reason there was a great flood in the first place?"
"Yes. That's true, but..."
"Forget it," shouted Allen. "I don't believe you. Your kind brought ruin to the world."
Jack smiled at that. "You don't believe me, and yet you just said 'your kind'."
"Well the kind that you're referring to, my ancestors, did bring ruin to the world. That's why most of them were wiped out," he said, looking off into nothing. "However, those of us who came later were sent with the purpose of protecting God's people during the end of days."
"That doesn't make sense," screamed Allen. "Why..."
"Because you need us! Because you humans, God's image or no, are like copies of a copy," Jack retaliated. "Spiritually, you're barely a blip on the radar. Like after images of what was supposed to be...perfection. But you blew it. And now we, the rightful heirs to the Kingdom, have to look out for you."
Allen was silent. Unsure of what to say or do, his fears took hold and he pushed the Colt against Jack's forehead again.
"You are God's children," said Jack, calmly. "There is no doubt about it. He loves you."
"But then again," a smirk crossed Jack's face. "Parents always love their children. Even if they have mental flaws."
"Mental flaws?"
"Basically," said Jack staring straight into Allen's eyes. "You're His retarded offspring. It's the only way to explain His favoritism."
"What?"
"Look. You humans are physically and mentally inferior to us. You always were," said Jack. "Which is why we're here to look after you."
This last part he said with a great big smile. Allen was furious.
"I don't believe it," he scream, pressing the gun harder Jack's forehead. "Your kind are evil!"
"No. We didn't ruin this planet. We didn't cut down the forests, burn the land and hill off more species that you can count," Jack scolded. "We didn't kill millions, billions in pointless wars or ruin entire ecosystems so that we could build a new shopping mall. Your kind did that."
"Well if we're so bad," said Allen. "Then what do we need your protection for. You said it yourself - we bent this world to our will."
Jack smiled an unpleasant smile. "And you sound so proud of that," he said. "You really are too stupid to understand it, aren't you? We were sent here to protect you from yourselves."
Allen, a look of confusion on his face, stepped back again. Thoughts poured through his mind, and for a moment he was at a loss for words. Then, with a shake of his head, he found his resolve again.
"None of this makes sense," he stammered. "What's to stop me from just killing you?"
Jack burst out laughing. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. He had just survived a train crash and this idiot was threatening to kill him. From his time living with them, he knew humans could be stupid, but he had no idea they were this stupid.
"Allen," said Jack, calming his laughter. "You can shoot me if you'd like. But you need to know something."
Allen didn't trust him, but he went for the bait. "What?"
"If you shoot me, it's all over."
"What do you mean?"
"The Nephilim came here to protect you from yourselves during the end times," he said. "We're here as sort of a sleeper cell, for lack of a better term."
"Like terrorists?"
"Yes, but no," Jack continued. "Yes, because we're waiting to go active. No, because we can actually do some real damage."
"Oh, and because terrorists are human," said Allen, offended. "They don't do real damage, right? Well what about the thousands they've killed?"
Jack noticed the smugness in his tone and it infuriated him. It was as though Allen was boasting because humans could kill each other off so easily. What a fool.
"Thousands," asked Jack. "I alone could kill millions of you."
Allen's mouth hung open. It took him a moment to realize this before spoke. "Millions?"
"Millions," said Jack. "And all it will take to activate me or one of the others is a direct, knowledgeable act of violence. And once we go active, we're in apocalypse mode. We don't have total control anymore."
Jack smiled. "Basically, you try to kill me, and the shit hits the fan."
Silence followed that statement. Allen, deep in though, was having a hard time believing him. Still, he couldn't be sure. There was a lot he wasn't sure of.
Originally, he'd thought that Jack was like something out of science fiction. A being from another world. Someone with super powers or...something.
As far fetched as that sounded to his own ears, the idea that he was some kind of Nephilim was even more bizarre. He wasn't buying it at all.
"Bull," said Allen. "You're just trying to cover up your origins. But you're the one who doesn't get it. Earth needs heroes. We need a Superman or the Avengers."
Raising the gun toward Jack's head he said, "You're just trying to shirk your responsibilities. You just want to hide behind the guise of a normal human. It isn't right."
"Don't," said Jack.
He'd been right. He didn't hear the gun go off. He didn't even see the muzzle flash because it'd been so close. All he felt was a brief thump on his head. Then there was darkness. It didn't last long.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Allen cowering. His pants were soaked in urine and the smell of fear permeated the air.
There was a burning sensation coursing through Jack's body, and he was glowing as bright as a sun. The ripping, wrenching sounds as his wings began to manifest themselves on his back was nothing compared to pain that accompanied them. He screamed. It was long and loud.
Allen dropped the gun and clasped his hands to his head. It would do him no good. Blood began to pour from his ears. A crimson stream flowed from his nose and eyes. He looked, terrified, at Jack until his eyes went white and then liquified.
And Jack spoke to him. The last voice Allen would ever hear. His was the voice of many, made one. And it was loud.
"Way to go, retard."
It was the last thing he heard before his head exploded.
"Is this really necessary," he ask impatiently.
"Trust me," said Allen. "This isn't going to hurt you one bit."
Jack thought about that statement. Of course it wouldn't hurt him. Hell, at this range he didn't think he'd even hear the damn thing go off.
"That's a given," he spat. "You got hollow points in that sucker?"
"Yup."
Sighing, Jack thought about what had led up to this moment. He'd been riding the People Mover through Detroit, on his way from Grand Circus Park Station to Joe Louis Arena where he'd parked. After a short lunch at the Hockey Town Cafe, he'd made his way to the station.
The walk wouldn't have been too taxing, but after the Tigers' game, he was worn out. Plus, he hadn't ridden the People Mover since he was a kid and thought it would be nice to see the city from its vantage point.
It was pretty crowded because of the game, but he managed to get a good seat with a view. The Mover lurched to a start and he was looking outside, enjoying the sight of the city as the sun began to set.
He was lost in though, when there was a sudden rumble. The sound of an explosion not far in the distance was the precursor to the deafening screech as the Mover's brakes locked up.
People jarred forward. Briefcases were dropped, drinks spilled and cell phones went flying. As soon as that had begun, there was the feeling of weightlessness. The Mover was falling.
It didn't last long, he was sure of that. But it seemed to happen in slow motion. People were thrown against the ceiling, glass was breaking and there was screaming.
The impact was the last thing he recalled. The next thing he knew, he was sitting in a chair looking down the barrel of a gun.
"You know, I'm not sure what you're trying to accomplish," said Jack. "But there has to be another way."
Allen just laughed. "No, I need to prove this to you. You need to know what you're capable of."
"I already know," Jack said with a smirk. "And wasting a round from that handgun isn't going to make it more or less true."
Allen was taken aback. He stared at Jack with a mixture of curiosity and anger.
"You knew and you never did anything?"
"I've known my whole life," said Jack. "How would feel, knowing you're different?"
His anger began to build up. His muscles began to tense.
"Do you think I like being like this? Do you think for one second I like being different from everyone else?"
Allen stared at him for awhile. "But why hide it? Why not use is for good?"
For a moment there was silence. It wasn't that Jack hadn't thought about it, about what he would be capable of. But what he wanted most of all was to just fit in. It'd taken over 400 years for someone to figure it out. It'd taken his best friend for the last 20 of them. But what he'd done to prove it was an atrocity. It was sick and wrong.
"Allen," said Jack. "You're like a brother to me. But if you want to go down this road, there is no good that will come from it."
Anger, like a black cloud, crossed Allen's face. "How dare you!"
He cocked the gun and pressed it against Jack's temple. Jack started to laugh.
"Who the hell do you think you are," he demanded. "You have a gun to my head, claiming to know what I am, and yet you still think you'll walk away from this?"
Anger was replaced by fear. Allen took a step back.
"You don't really know what I am, do you," asked Jack. "What? You think I'm some kind of superhero? Or maybe an immortal being from space, huh?"
"Well if you aren't that," said Allen, again shoving the gun into Jack's face. "Then what the hell are you?"
Jack chuckled quietly. "Allen," he said. "Have you ever heard of the Nephilim?"
Allen's eyes went wide at the word. "What? You mean the earthly children of angels?"
"Yeah," said Jack. "You know, over the years we've gotten a bad rap. But what you might not realize is that us younger ones were actually sent here to protect you."
Allen thought about this for a moment. "No. Nephilim are supposed to be giants and you're barely five six. Plus, from everything I've read they raped and pillaged. I mean hell, aren't Nephilim half the reason there was a great flood in the first place?"
"Yes. That's true, but..."
"Forget it," shouted Allen. "I don't believe you. Your kind brought ruin to the world."
Jack smiled at that. "You don't believe me, and yet you just said 'your kind'."
"Well the kind that you're referring to, my ancestors, did bring ruin to the world. That's why most of them were wiped out," he said, looking off into nothing. "However, those of us who came later were sent with the purpose of protecting God's people during the end of days."
"That doesn't make sense," screamed Allen. "Why..."
"Because you need us! Because you humans, God's image or no, are like copies of a copy," Jack retaliated. "Spiritually, you're barely a blip on the radar. Like after images of what was supposed to be...perfection. But you blew it. And now we, the rightful heirs to the Kingdom, have to look out for you."
Allen was silent. Unsure of what to say or do, his fears took hold and he pushed the Colt against Jack's forehead again.
"You are God's children," said Jack, calmly. "There is no doubt about it. He loves you."
"But then again," a smirk crossed Jack's face. "Parents always love their children. Even if they have mental flaws."
"Mental flaws?"
"Basically," said Jack staring straight into Allen's eyes. "You're His retarded offspring. It's the only way to explain His favoritism."
"What?"
"Look. You humans are physically and mentally inferior to us. You always were," said Jack. "Which is why we're here to look after you."
This last part he said with a great big smile. Allen was furious.
"I don't believe it," he scream, pressing the gun harder Jack's forehead. "Your kind are evil!"
"No. We didn't ruin this planet. We didn't cut down the forests, burn the land and hill off more species that you can count," Jack scolded. "We didn't kill millions, billions in pointless wars or ruin entire ecosystems so that we could build a new shopping mall. Your kind did that."
"Well if we're so bad," said Allen. "Then what do we need your protection for. You said it yourself - we bent this world to our will."
Jack smiled an unpleasant smile. "And you sound so proud of that," he said. "You really are too stupid to understand it, aren't you? We were sent here to protect you from yourselves."
Allen, a look of confusion on his face, stepped back again. Thoughts poured through his mind, and for a moment he was at a loss for words. Then, with a shake of his head, he found his resolve again.
"None of this makes sense," he stammered. "What's to stop me from just killing you?"
Jack burst out laughing. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it. He had just survived a train crash and this idiot was threatening to kill him. From his time living with them, he knew humans could be stupid, but he had no idea they were this stupid.
"Allen," said Jack, calming his laughter. "You can shoot me if you'd like. But you need to know something."
Allen didn't trust him, but he went for the bait. "What?"
"If you shoot me, it's all over."
"What do you mean?"
"The Nephilim came here to protect you from yourselves during the end times," he said. "We're here as sort of a sleeper cell, for lack of a better term."
"Like terrorists?"
"Yes, but no," Jack continued. "Yes, because we're waiting to go active. No, because we can actually do some real damage."
"Oh, and because terrorists are human," said Allen, offended. "They don't do real damage, right? Well what about the thousands they've killed?"
Jack noticed the smugness in his tone and it infuriated him. It was as though Allen was boasting because humans could kill each other off so easily. What a fool.
"Thousands," asked Jack. "I alone could kill millions of you."
Allen's mouth hung open. It took him a moment to realize this before spoke. "Millions?"
"Millions," said Jack. "And all it will take to activate me or one of the others is a direct, knowledgeable act of violence. And once we go active, we're in apocalypse mode. We don't have total control anymore."
Jack smiled. "Basically, you try to kill me, and the shit hits the fan."
Silence followed that statement. Allen, deep in though, was having a hard time believing him. Still, he couldn't be sure. There was a lot he wasn't sure of.
Originally, he'd thought that Jack was like something out of science fiction. A being from another world. Someone with super powers or...something.
As far fetched as that sounded to his own ears, the idea that he was some kind of Nephilim was even more bizarre. He wasn't buying it at all.
"Bull," said Allen. "You're just trying to cover up your origins. But you're the one who doesn't get it. Earth needs heroes. We need a Superman or the Avengers."
Raising the gun toward Jack's head he said, "You're just trying to shirk your responsibilities. You just want to hide behind the guise of a normal human. It isn't right."
"Don't," said Jack.
He'd been right. He didn't hear the gun go off. He didn't even see the muzzle flash because it'd been so close. All he felt was a brief thump on his head. Then there was darkness. It didn't last long.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Allen cowering. His pants were soaked in urine and the smell of fear permeated the air.
There was a burning sensation coursing through Jack's body, and he was glowing as bright as a sun. The ripping, wrenching sounds as his wings began to manifest themselves on his back was nothing compared to pain that accompanied them. He screamed. It was long and loud.
Allen dropped the gun and clasped his hands to his head. It would do him no good. Blood began to pour from his ears. A crimson stream flowed from his nose and eyes. He looked, terrified, at Jack until his eyes went white and then liquified.
And Jack spoke to him. The last voice Allen would ever hear. His was the voice of many, made one. And it was loud.
"Way to go, retard."
It was the last thing he heard before his head exploded.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)