NightsofMadness
©2024SamsonH.Frost
Publisher: BoD· BooksonDemand, Stockholm, Sweden
Print: LibriPlureos GmbH,Hamburg,Germany
ISBN:978-91-8080-148-5
Iwas at my brain-dead job, doingbrain-deadtasks.The only highlightwas that theclock wasnearing 5PM, so it wasonly 30 yearstogo. It wasanofficejob.Paperstoprint andsign, customerstocall, coffeetodrink like thedevil,and of course, ogling thefemalecolleaguesduringbreaks. That wasmy favorite time of theday,apart from sleeping. When Ididn't have to be awake, that's when Itruly lived.
Iheadeddowntown. Ionlyhad an hour before theliquor storeclosed, so Iwas in ahurry.I hoppedonbus 42.Damnif that dickhead Chesterwasn'tonthe bus.
”Hey there,”Chester said.
Ireluctantly satdownnexttohim
”So, you're outrunningerrands?” Chesterasked.
”Yeah, Ihavetoget to theliquorstore,they're closingsoon,” Isaid
”Right.Hey,I thoughtI'd have afew drinks myself today, maybewecould hang out?”Chester asked.
”Ofcourse,”I proclaimed,instark contrast to howI really felt.
We gotoff thebus andheadedtowards theliquorstore.
”HaveI told youabout my friend East?” Chesterasked.
”No, who'sthat?”I said.
”Hewas at this liquor storelastweek,picking up some beers. Thesecurityguard grabbedhim andasked if he’d been drinking,” Chestersaid
”Nokidding,” Isaid
”Yeah, he hada little hair of thedog forbreakfast,but nothingout of theordinary. Iswear,the security guards are gettingpower-hungry,”Chester said.
”Damnstraight,”I said.
Ipickedout awhiskey andsomebeers.I didn't have acent though,soChester hadtopay.I alreadyowedhim over a hundredbucks,but Ijustified it by my loathing of theguy.
Chesterpaidfor us,and we headed towardsthe busstop.
“ShouldweheadovertoMaryBeth’splace?” Chester asked.
Mary Beth,anuglyold hagwho hadcheated deathseveral times. They hadtopumpher stomachatthe hospital at least once aweek.Noone knew howold shewas,but rumorhad it shewas much youngerthanshe looked.Apparently,she was married once.The guyhad developedthe paymentsystems forall thetaxis in Slovakia,a real entrepreneur.
”Sure,”I said,popping open abeerand downingit.
Afteranotherwise silent busride, Chesterpressed the button.
”Thisisour stop,” he said.
We gotoff, andI threwthe emptybottleaway.
”Pickthatup,”yelledsomedad outwitha stroller.
”Easydoesitmyguy,” Isaid, as he flippedmeoff.
We arrivedatMaryBeth'sbuildingand walked up to her apartment. Chesteropenedthe door withoutknocking.
”MaryBeth? It's Chester,”hesaid.
No answer.Chester andI looked at each other, trying to figure outour next move.Wewentintothe kitchen, and Chestertooka glassfromthe cupboard.
”MaryBeth!?” he called,pouring us each some whiskey.
IleftChester in thekitchen andwalkedaroundthe apartment.
”MaryBeth, areyou home?” Isaid.
Thewhole placereekedofshitand vomit. Stacks of boxes, newspapers,packaging,and otherjunkwerescattered everywhere,not even thebathroom wasspared. Isaw spiders, beetles, allsorts of critters crawling around themess. It wasa goddamnecosystem.I wasabout to open awindowwhenthe frontdoorsuddenlyflewopen.
”MARYBETH! WHEREARE YOU, YOUFUCKING WHORE?”yelledsomeone whostormed into thehallway.
He hada leathervest, awhite shirt, andlight jeans. His clothescarried thememoriesofspilled drinks,greasymeals, andGod knowswhatelse.
”WHO THEHELLARE YOU?”hesaid, pointing at me, ”DID YOUFUCKMYMARYBETH?”
”N-no,”I barely managedtosay before aslapsentme crashing into apileofbooksand otherjunk.
”Calmdown, buddy,” said Chesterfromthe kitchen. ”Have adrink.”
He handed hima glassofwhiskey.The guyinthe leather vest grabbedthe glass, downed it,and threwitatChester.
”Thatwhore,she's left me,” he said.
”You'llfindsomeone else,don't worry, buddy,” Chester said.
Ihad gotten back on my feet.The chaoshad knockedover abox,which turned outtobefullofhalf-emptyliquorbottles. Ipickedthree up andhandedone each to theleather vest and Chester. Theleather vest went to thecouch in thelivingroom, kicked away thejunkfromit, andsat down.The former white couchwas stained, anda sharpsmell filled theroom as the leathervestguy disturbedwhateverthe hell hadsettled on it. Chestersat down next to him; Ichose to stand.
We startedpouring it down ourthroats,bottleafter bottle, beer afterbeer.
“Weneed some damn music,” said theleather vest and turned on theTV. Allhecould find wasstatic. He gotpissed offand threwthe remote outthe window.The whitenoise at leastprovidedsomelight as it startedtoget dark outside.
We drankand laughedheartily. Chestertried to standon hishands butwentflyingintoa heap of junk.The leathervest startedlaughingharshly,unabletocontrol himself, beer spilling from hisglass alloverthe room.Hegot up from the couchand walked to acornerofthe room.Hepulledout his cock andlet astreamofpisswhipa stackofnewspapers.
”Haveyou heardabout when Johnsonwenttothe doctor?” he asked, lookingoverhis shoulder at us.
”No, what happened?”Chester asked.
”’Mr.Johnson,’ said thedoctor, ‘you must stop jerkingoff,’” said theleather vest andbegan to giggle,”’Ah fuck,why?’ Johnsonsaid. ‘Well,’saidthe doctor,‘becauseI'm trying to examineyou.’”
We allstarted laughing harshly. Ipulledout threecigarettes from my pocket andhandedthemout.
”Damn, this is life, guys,” said Chester, ”we're living the dreamnow.”
”Sureashellweare,” Iand theleather vest agreed.
