Short Drive to Infinity

 

            One cold December morning, a rusty old Toyota pickup truck with a big chocolate lab sitting happily in the bed clunked its way onto the dirt parking lot of a half-way house, designed for those who have just left jail or rehab, but most often both. These people spent several months here, getting all that they required, food, housing and piss tests. They hoped to eventually reenter society, but about as often and considerably less fortunately, they found themselves once again in jail or rehab.

            Next to the parking lot stood an old wooden picnic table, where two men sat, talking. These men were both worn considerably beyond their years by the volatile combinations of drugs, sex, and violence that they ate like a heartbroken teenage girl eats ice cream: in quick yet extremely large doses that left one sick for days. Such people are often sure that they will never experience such a drug-induced ordeal again, which normally proves true, be it due to sobriety or the fact that the next time it is always far, far worse.

            The men were talking at this point, of the old cat Sam, who had been kept in the house as long as anyone could remember, lounging around and being kept by the men who lived there. Both Eli and Jimmy had been in and out of the house for years and they noted that they, nor anyone else they had asked could remember a time when Sam hadn’t lazed around the home. He had however passed on the week before, to the intense sorrow of all those in the house.

            The second man was somewhat softer in comparison, hailing originally from the south side of Boston where he had made a living in the Irish gangs he had grown up around. He extorted, dealt and killed like many freckled kids who had grown up in the Southie Projects. However, the bottle had done him in as it had all of his kinsmen who fit the stereotype. When he was young, he got drunk and as a result arrested. In jail his only choice was to join a prison gang that would protect him from murder or rape, and the only gang that his skin could get him into was the Aryan brotherhood. This unfortunate situation forced him to get a lightning bolt tattooed on the back of his neck, as was the tradition and requirement in the gang. This tattoo kept him from ever being able to acquire or hold a job and once again forced him into the only two places he had ever felt that he had belonged: the flop house outside of which he sat now, or the bottom of a bottle.

            And so they sat there, staring at the baseball field across the street, which acted as a piece of Americana that was insulting to them merely in the fact that it was something they would never be able to attain. They would never be able to bring their kids that they had failed in so many sad and unfortunate ways to little league along with the other children who swung at the balls now. They would never be able to join the various adult soft ball leagues, or go to the bars after games. It was almost an illusion, torturing them constantly in the same manner of Tantalus with his tree above him and the pool below him. It was just out of the reach of those who hungered most for such normality that the little field offered.

            The man in the pickup stepped out and greeted them both by throwing the poor old addicts each three packs of cigarettes, which neither had been able to afford for days, hurling them into withdrawal from what the numbers say is the most addictive, yet ironically the most socially acceptable drug. However, it was this or jail where they would be smoking cigarettes out of someone’s rectum, which could also be laced with drugs or some faster acting poison.

            “Hey Jimmy, Eli,” said the man who had brought the cigarettes. “Marlboro Reds and Camel Lights, right?”
            “Yeah, thanks a bunch,” said Jimmy. “I’ve been needing these for days now.”

            The first man wore a stern expression and had a face full of cuts. However, these paled in comparison to the long, stitched up wounds that ran across his bare, though tanned and beaten chest. This was a result of his recent relapse and attempted theft of several hundred dollars worth of heroin. He had found himself in a time that was unfit for a man like him. He would have made a far better barbarian, pillaging all that he came across, or perhaps a cowboy, moving across the land as a hero though he destroyed all that was in his path. Today such figures had only one thing that society was willing to tolerate their destruction of: themselves.

            “No problem. How are the cuts feeling, Jimmy? When do the stitches come out?”

            “Ah, I don’t know man. I’m not sure if I can go back there even,” Jimmy replied while lighting his first smoke. Though he didn’t notice, as he smoked the wound in his chest where the lung had been punctured began to bubble and ooze out a relatively small amount of blood, barely visible through the lymph and mucus that surrounded it.

            “F**k,  man. You wanna tell me what happened?” he asked, looking very concerned.

            “I was still fucked up when I woke up in the hospital, I thought that the cops might come looking for me. I ran out of there.”

            “S**t. Do you know what you had? You could be getting into some serious pain pretty soon. Has anyone checked in with the hospital? You could have some internal bleeding or some s**t, Jimmy.”

            “The landlord called when he came in,” began Eli.

             The first man wore a stern expression and had a face full of cuts. However, these paled in comparison to the long, stitched up wounds that ran across his bare, though tanned and beaten chest. This was a result of his recent relapse and attempted theft of several hundred dollars worth of heroin. He had found himself in a time that was unfit for a man like him. He would have made a far better barbarian, pillaging all that he came across, or perhaps a cowboy, moving across the land as a hero though he destroyed all that was in his path. Today such figures had only one thing that society was willing to tolerate their destruction of: themselves.

                 “They said he had had his left lung punctured", Eli continued, "and some of his ribs were fucked pretty bad, but they already took care of everything for him, save the fact that they were unable to do anything to the lung.” He then glanced towards Jimmy and said, “Man your gonna die.”

            “Ah, so they thought that it would be more dangerous to go in and stitch up the lung?”

            “Yeah, well I don’t know exactly why,” said Jimmy, “but they want me back in for a checkup to make sure that nothing got fucked up when I tore out the IV and all of that other s**t. I don’t think I’m gonna go, though.”

            “Well if you’re in no pain then I don’t think it matters too much in the long run. You’ll be ok.”

            At this point Eli looked over at the dog in the back or the truck, suddenly realizing that it was overwhelmingly large. “Hey, is that dog tame? He doesn’t look too safe to me, considering his size.”

            The man looked over his shoulder, saying, “oh yes, of course he is. People are often afraid of him and make s**t up because he’s so big but he’s your basic chocolate lab. I’ve had him literally for ages and he’s as good as gold. Never hurt a soul.”

            “Well that’s good,” replied Eli, strangely calmed by the soft voice of the man.

            “Hey Jimmy,” the man asked, “they searched you on the way in here right? I mean no offense man, but you were in the hospital. There’s some bad s**t there that you could have jacked and not even remember.”

            “Yeah,” Jimmy replied gruffly. “A*s and all as usual. It’s f*****g humiliating, but I definitely get why it’s necessary.”

            “Well I’m glad that they didn’t find anything.”

            “Hey, you’re not my sponsor,” said Jimmy, though Eli didn’t seem to notice or even react in the slightest bit to his saying so.

            “No, I’m not Jimmy.”

            Jimmy then looked at this man slightly closer, no longer entirely accepting his warm face and realizing that he had in fact been fortunate enough to have only met this met twice before in his life, an extremely small number considering the type of man he was.

Once, this strange man had been present as Jimmy’s hookup was overdosing on heroin that was considerably stronger than the dealer had expected. Jimmy himself was too much in a daze to change the situation an also lucky to have built up enough of a tolerance that he was able to escape with his life.

The other time he had been little, almost too young to remember. The man had spoken with Jimmy and his mother in the broken down Brockton apartment where Jimmy had moved with his family after his father got fired. Jimmy couldn’t remember exactly what he had been fired for, yet he had a strange feeling that it had involved theft. Strangely enough, the exact moment that Jimmy thought this, the eyes of the strange, kind old man seemed to agree. Regardless, he was far too young to be able to do anything about it, a fact that his father relied on to this very day.

            “Hey Jimmy,” the man said. “Let’s go for a ride down to the river. Free of charge. It’s my treat.”

            Eli asked, “Do want me to come too?”

            “No, I don’t think you’ve smoked nearly enough of those to have to come with me” he replied, gesturing towards the smoke that hung idly from Eli’s lips. He then turned towards Jimmy, wiping away some of the fluid that was now dripping out of the wound in his chest. “Are you ready to go?”

            Jimmy nodded and stepped into the passenger side of the truck, before asking, “How do I know you so well?”

            The old man just smiled sadly and pointed to a small flower growing out of Sam’s burial ground. “Eli’s right. You’re drowning Jimmy.”

            Jimmy rode off with the old man and his dog.

 

 

Reviews

[Sound]

This was an interesting read. I must say, though, in the begining before the dialogue I couldn't really get into it. I believe in the old saying that actions speak louder than words, and I think you could've really improved the flow by not trying to give us all the character's back story in a relatively short span of the story, and simply lay out the basics and let the reader put in the rest. Say it's a home for druggies and such if you want, or just describe how Jimmy and Eli both look and their manerisms for being out of cigarettes and let the reader put two and two together. After the dialogue began it was easily to get into it and I really liked the ending. It was apparent to me that you yourself probably got into the story more at this point, as your writing prospered at this point. Good job.

[J.E. Stroud]

Sorry if this is kind of long...but I'll be addressing little details, as opposed to the formatting/flow of the story, which I really like.

Next to the aforementioned parking lot- "Aforementioned" kind of pulls me out of the story. It's overly intellectual, which doesn't really fit the rest of it.

...they ate like a recently dumped girl eats ice cream: in quick yet extremely large doses that left one sick for days. - "Recently dumped girl" sounds a little harsh and modern for the mood...I'd personally prefer "recently heartbroken [girl/teenager/whatever]. Also, "one" doesn't fit the voice of this, either...

Such people are often sure that they will never experence such a thing again- What thing?

lounging around...remember a time when Sam hadn't lounged around the home.- Maybe 'lazing', or a similar verb, to prevent being repetitive.

to the displeasure of all those in the house.- 'Displeasure' seems inaccurate, if he was so dearly loved.

where he had made a living in the Irish gangs he had grown up around- Maybe explain a little further, like "made a living as the leader of one of the Irish gangs he had grown up around"

Said tattoo kept him from ever being able to - 'Said tattoo' is the same as 'aforementioned'

They would never be able to bring their children to bring little league along with the other children who swung at the balls now.- I'd change one of the "children"'s to "kids"' to avoid being repetitive

Tantalus with his tree above him and the pool below him.- Explain a little further?

However, it was this or jail where which they would be smoking cigarettes out of someone's rectum- That seems a little unnecessary and overly graphic....it also doesn't have much to do with what came immediately before it- it feels like it was added for shock value.

"Ya, thanks a bunch," - nononononoNONONONO. xD There were other places where you put 'ya' instead of 'yeah', but I only addressed this one

looking very much concerned.-I'd really prefer 'very concerned'. No other reason than it seems to fit the mood better.

save the fact that they were unable to do anything to the lung- 'Save' is a little overly intelligent for a gruff old junkie. Not saying he's stupid, but it doesn't really fit the voice you've given him

oh yes, of course he is.- 'Yeah', for pretty much the same reason as above. It just fits his voice better.

he had in fact been fortunate enough to have only met this met twice before- They're talking pretty casually and intimately for only having met twice...:/

Sorry if this came off as harsh. I really liked the story, overall.
Edit; You get more points for each review based on how long it is...I got 57 xD Lawl.