JPG Magazine: MsB

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

5 day black out so it must be fiction

writing class piece

Scandal and the Girl

The day after the new year of nineteen seventy nine, in a drunken frenzy, Brigit had opened her eyes in disbelief. Was Juan sitting on the end of the bed? And what bed could it possibly be? The TV was chained to the brick wall and Gideon had left that tell tale sign… a motel room. Juan, the sweet but not so smart guy, was there but not her boy friend du jour. And now things were starting to get tricky as the Johnny Walker fog began to lift. Questions needed answers.

Her clothes were still on, a good sign and Don Juan’s were also intact. Just sitting there, he was starring at her like she had two heads or something equally freakish. She smiled and acted nonchalant. The insult was returned. And where was that bottle of clarity, she thought as she slowly surveyed the room for the bottle of scotch, and instead spotted five pounds of weed wrapped ever so familiar paper of last years Christmas.

Shit, what had she done now and where the fuck was she? And why wasn’t Surfer boy here. “Hey Juan, where ya hidden’ the bottle?” she spit. Quickly he produced an almost dead solder, just a spider left. Even a blind hog could tell he wasn’t into giving it up. “Gimme”, she barked like an alpha dog. He complied. There was just enough in the bottle to give her the incentive to get up and look out the window. Pulling back the greasy curtains, all she could see was dark and rain on the foggy window, just another dreary night on the Northern Oregon coast. A perfect night for a scandal was afoot on the cold winter’s eve.

“Hey Bud, we got any blow? Or just that ragweed over there?” was her question to the questions she had no answers for. He slowly pulled out of his little watch pocket a baggie that looked promising. Out of it came a vial and a little to cute, just for snorting cocaine, spoon. She swallowed her snide remarks about the spoon he was filling and tapping, filling and tapping, waiting until it was just his kind of right. Disgusted, she made a small impatient gesture with her pinkie to her left nostril.

She wanted to just grab it with her garish nails and speed things up a bit. “Here baby cakes; let me do it so we don’t spill.” She sounded like she was instructing a young child in the art of cookie making. Then she snatched the bag and clawed a hefty whiff out, not once, not twice, but three times. Juan was a bit slow on the uptake but he managed to regain his status as master of the drug, a rather dubious distinction.

And now that Brigit could think again she realized that it was no great reward to think. And it gave her the need to upchuck in the garbage can at the bed side. As she began to feel bit bad about the placement of the puke she noticed the whole room was in considerable disarray. A bit of puke in the garbage can would not really be out of place. And now with all the amenities attended to that would straighten out her thinking she popped the question. “Where are we and why are we here.” And it was no surprise that Juan didn’t have the answer either.

She could almost imagine what the honky surfer turned drugstore cowboy might have to say about this delightful little adventure his best friend and girlfriend had consorted and expedited. It brought a chill to the bottom of her soul and sadness filled her heart. She was so sick and tired of waking up sick and tired. And she thought about how nice heaven would be. Maybe she would fly out to Miami in the morning for a change of luck.


Shadow said...

shooo, what a story.....

Sheria said...

I am so intrigued with these characters. More please.

Marc said...

Good stuff.
Love the disclaimer "so it must be fiction"