Sunday, June 17, 2012

Nightvision, Found out, Suicidal fish

[laughter, a car horn, a resonant thud of a heavy object settling down, the click of a broken spoke, a muffled argument, release of steam, a screaming engine...overlapping, entwined, layers of a life, memory exposed; vortex physics in reverse, no gravity, elementary forces raped, Chaos, beauty for the jaded crowd, something ignored knows no limitations, like singing while falling, you will still land, hard, just keep your eyes on a simple, pleasant flash of life, the ship's wheel is spinning, madness and sanity chase one another 'round a maypole...]

A tiny movement, a flutter of the eyelids, the twitch of a finger, an exhalation. It is darkest now, just a bit past midnight, quiet polices the night. A dream unfolds.

Jinx feels nervous, sitting on the cold vinyl seat, his legs too short to allow his feet to dangle. The windows are down,air rushing in, the prelude to fall, a brief taste of cold air. Dad is in the passenger seat, up front, Tata is next to Jinx, he seems nervous, trying to soothe, almost scarier than silence, when an adult says "everything is ok". Something...

THE FLOOR IS GONE. DADDY, THE FLOOR...where is this fire coming from? The road is rushing by under the seat, variegated asphalt framed between his little feet, and flames, WE CAN'T STOP, DADDY, Tata is trying to pick Jinx up, WHO IS DRIVING? I CAN'T SEE THEIR FACE...the sound of the air rushing in, over it a sound of tearing metal, an awful noise, THE SEAT IS MELTING, faster, out of control, I CAN'T SEE THE DRIVER, THE DRIVER CAN STOP THE CAR, DADDY, Dad is holding the fish tank, the one from the den, the fish is gone, kept jumping out of the tank, it lay there making a strange sound, convulsing, I didn't know what to do, I am too little, HELP THE FISH, the car is making strange sounds now, like an animal breathing heavily, THE FLOOR IS GONE, I CAN'T MOVE, the view between Jinx's feet is a blurred mess of orange and red and gray and blue, WHY WON'T THE DRIVER STOP THE CAR, the jangle of a ring of keys, behind me, WHO IS THE DRIVER...a scream, a crash, the tinkle of glass, the smell of burning things, then...quiet.

"Hey! Wake up! You have a phone call!"

Phone call. What time is it? Why the phone? Why not just knock on the door? 

"Hey, dipshit! Get up! Drop your cock and grab your socks! Phone!"

"Who is it?", Jinx asked, his voice full of sleep.

"I don't know, nor do I give a shit. They asked for you."

"Nobody knows I am here. Must be a wrong number."

"Riiight. Which would explain all of those incidents I have been reading about, where people have been receiving cryptic phone calls in the early morning, a voice asking for Jinx. They have been calling him 'the Menace of the Law of Averages'."

Jinx stood up, stretching involuntarily, a powerful pressure on his bladder. He stumbled through the door, placing a hand on the paneled wall to steady himself. His left eye stung, dry and dilated, so he squinted and rubbed at it.

The phone was resting on the kitchen counter, next to an empty cereal bowl. There was a sweet, sickening smell of rot from the trash. The TV blathered on about possible hurricanes and other forces of destruction.


"Hey, man! It's Andy!"

"What...Andy...why are did you know where to find me?"

"Oh, I'm a detective, dude, Sherlock Fucking Holmes. You told me, you idiot."

This information did not seem accurate to Jinx. When he left D.C. he had no idea where he was going. He couldn't have told himself.

"What's up, man?", best to go with the flow, Jinx thought, "Where are you?"

"Philly. You want to...", the line crackled, "...with Cassie and...", silence.

"Hello?", Jinx asked, scratching himself idly.

He hung up the phone and rubbed his face.

"Good morning, sunshine. Don't you have to work today?", Geoff inquired, gathering his phone and keys from the desk. He looked tired. And old.

"Nah, Gene gave me the day off. Said the truck wasn't coming today because of the storm.", Jinx replied, perusing the refrigerator.

"Yeah, the Weather Channel says it will probably hit us directly. Fanfuckingtastic.", Geoff said, turning in a circle, searching for something. "You seen my handheld? Christ, I can't remember where I put shit anymore. My mind is always wandering off and playing with itself."

Jinx smiled. Geoff said some funny things. He should be a comedian. Or a DMV employee.

"Nope. As I have no idea what a handheld is, it is unlikely I can help you."

"Hey, when I get home this evening, do you want to go grab a drink? My treat.", Geoff asked, though even while he said it, he wondered if he should give this lunatic alcohol. Do not feed the animals, the sign said.

"Hell yes! I need to get out of the house, someplace that isn't work. Get a little crazy. Thanks, man.", Jinx located a box of Sugar Smacks and was now rifling, loudly, through the silverware drawer.

"Emphasis on the 'little', there, princess. I'll be back around five. Try not to get arrested in the meantime.", Geoff grabbed his handheld from behind the sofa and headed out the door.

"Don't call me princess, dickhead. I'll whip your ass.", said Jinx, struggling to get his sleepy hands to cooperate and open the milk container.

Geoff laughed. "Don't poke the bear, Jinx. I might just show you a little something."

Jinx smiled. He's a good dude. A little goofy, but a good dude.

"Hell yeah! Judge Wapner! Life is good.", Jinx said, tossing the TV remote on the sofa, and sat on a pile of mail, creasing some important looking papers. He chewed noisily.

[quiet seeped in, enveloping the void in its own regulation, masking the ripping violence of Chaos, an orderly lack, silent white noise on the screen, the mute feature of the Universe, a respite before the storm, the fish has stopped flopping, for now...]

No comments:

Post a Comment