A nightime, no relish

                It follows you like a bloodthirsty mosquito would follow the stench of those who persevere. Circles around, this nuisance that is looking for one perfect area of your livelihood on which to land and steal time from your very existence, forgoing any chance of reviving that precious moment.

“Wait. Why in the f**k are we here?” I ask myself, “Why are you here?”

The lightning strikes a tree, fifty yards to the left and this deafening clap of thunder violently shakes the ground below. The rain hasn’t stopped for three days now, and everything is flooded. Was it ever going to stop, this drenching of one’s soul?

                “Oh, for the love of some dry clothes” I think to myself.

                “You didn’t answer me!”  I explode “why are you here?”

The silence is growing more painful every second, all nerves standing about face, on end.

                “Well?” again I shout.

                “Are you making any sense, whatsoever?” his thought vocalizes “I am always here” as I am walking towards the door.

The country is always pleasant while driving through, for what could seem to be some infinite journey across everyone else’s reality. A reality, that is interchangeable and intertwined, amongst each other’s day.

The country general store is dainty and ever so small, and there is an aromatic attempt to cover the mildew and cardboard dust odors. A couple vertical wire shelves standing, lined together, creating two aisles of delicacy. Two freezers of frozen selections, however, as I look around the store and digest my very few choices, these groceries look more like tenants who have signed a yearlong lease to reside.

                “May I help you, young man?” the distinguished somewhat older female clerk dressed in unbelievably loud blue dress, with these crazy floral designs, right out of Hawaii Five-O, that somewhat matches her hair, just a shade lighter.

She’s being polite I know, but I couldn’t help but cringe when I heard ‘young man’ as I am being some disrespectful nuisance in her precious time of daytime soap operas that I can clearly hear on the tube behind the counter. As to say, “hurry the f**k up, I can’t trust you enough to give my undivided attention to my shows, and damnit Charlie is about to murder Alan.”

                “Uh, yeah, I am looking for some food to eat, like a sandwich or anything good that is quick and easy.” My stomach audibly growls. “Are there any premade foods, frozen burritos, do you have a microwave? I don’t see anything, are there any restaurants or fast food places close by here?” I anxiously interrogate.

                “Why, honey” again with the patronizations “there isn’t anyplace to sit down and eat for at least fifty, maybe sixty more miles. Are you that hungry?” I hear a hint of southern hospitality igniting.

                “Yeah, we have been driving for about twenty-five hours now, nonstop, and I am quite famished. I have been snacking on peanuts, but that tour ended about half way through the drive, with hog head devouring most of them.” I gasp out in one breath.

                “We’ve?” she looks around and then outside, desperately confused.

                “Well, it’s been a long trip; I haven’t slept very much at all in the past two days. How much farther, until I get to Albuquerque?”  I ask as I am getting inpatient with the internal digestion of my tripe.

All I want to do is lay upon some nice, clean, cool sheets of a freshly made bed. To smell the cleanliness of detergent and pull the covers over my head, drifting into slumber. Sleep. Deprivation of one’s sleep will do some intensely funny, sometimes not, s**t to you. Mild hallucinations are generally active among sleep distressed patrons and I have found myself in that limbo a few times. Just when I think I can’t talk to myself anymore and wonder who is listening, he will talk back.

Food and a good night’s sleep, scratch that, a full day of sleep will remedy my situation precisely.

                “Albuquerque?” looking at me puzzled “weren’t you traveling westbound?” she asks me. I know she is belittling me with her eyes.

“Well, yeah, west. New Mexico.”  I am little amused

                “Honey, you are in Arizona, ‘bout say 200 miles east of Phoenix.” Her distrust is growing exponentially with my uncertainties.

                “What?” my jaw drops “are you shitting me, pulling my leg?”

How long have I been incoherent? Was I asleep at the wheel for hundreds of miles? How could this possibly be? I am thinking to myself, because of him, he did this!

                “Now what are we supposed to do?” I think to myself

                “We?” again the clerk looks confused and growing more impatient with me and my eccentricities. She has missed way too much of her daily program and it is showing in her wrinkly, crow footed face. I must have spoken.

                “You are in no condition to be driving, honey,” she is saying to me “My house is right here behind the store, why don’t you let me fix you up something warm to eat and rest a bit to regain some sense in your head?”

The hospitality seems sincere and heartfelt, I accept graciously.

I walk inside the screen door and there it is, sitting in the corner, her rocking chair.

 I wake up.

Reviews

[DeadCharlie]

I like the concept, pretty interesting. Kind of lost interest while reading midway, but it's good. Promising.