XXXVII. Resurrection - December 12, 2006
I walked into the station and sat down on the old safe. Poopie was already there milling about the cigarette machine rambling on about a GWAR video he'd seen the night before. Pedro was sitting at the side of the desk receiving Toad's legendary German petroleum industry conspiracy theory. I couldn't resist.
"Oh man, that reminds me. We were talking about World War II in one of my college history classes."
Toad eyed me warily. He seemed somewhat annoyed that I had interrupted. Pedro maintained his usual glassy stare.
"I think the historians have it totally wrong about Hitler."
That seemed to get Pedro's attention, "What da fuck do you mean?"
"Well, any man of honor, which Hitler clearly was, wouldn't commit suicide in the middle of such an important mission as the one Germany was engaged in."
"Brotha, you is fucked up!"
Toad's eyes filled with disapproval, "Oh, this is rich."
"No, wait. I think Hitler's subordinates lied to him. They told him that the Jewish population had been completely wiped off the Earth. I mean shit, look at the scale of their cleansing operation. Of course, he believed them. They were German, after all."
"Darren, what the hell are you talking about?" Toad was turning a deep red.
"Hitler killed himself because the mission was complete. He always feared he had Jewish blood in him. Once he saw his vision realized, he sacrificed himself for the greater good."
"Man, that is some fucked up shit!" Pedro yelled, his yellowed eyes flashing for the first time ever.
Toad stroked his beard thoughtfully. Had Pedro been more subdued, Toad would have had an outburst of his own. He always had to be different.
"Well. Now we know why you dropped out of college."
I chuckled, appreciating the good comeback, "Yeah. Guess I won't be managing a gas station ten years from now."
Toad had enough and responded by carrying the clipboard outside to read the pumps. Pedro started counting out his money.
"Darren, call the dating mailbox for me!"
"Oh Jesus, Poopie."
Pedro's jaw dropped.
"What did you jus' call him?"
"Huh?"
"What da fuck did you jus' call him?"
"Poopie?"
"Dat's what I thought! You fuckin' homo?"
"Dude, just count your money. Fuck."
"I'm not a fucking fag!" Poopie protested, "Darren call the mailbox!"
"Fine."
I dialed the number, which I had memorized over the past few weeks. Poopie had renewed the ad in what appeared to be a futile effort at attracting a mate. He would change it slightly from week-to-week, fumbling for the right words that might net him a juicy catch.
I punched in the access code and waited for the usual response so I could, once again, tell Poopie what a Big Zero he was, "You have. ONE. message."
"Oh my God." I held the phone out to Poopie, "You got one, dude."
Poopie lunged for the phone and pressed the "1" button.
"Holy shit! Vanessa! She's a goth! She's into piercings! And black leather! And bondage!"
"Sounds like a real catch, Poopie."
Poopie slammed the phone back into its cradle and jumped up about an inch - the most his atrophied muscles could squeeze out against the force of gravity.
"I have to go shit!" He yelled, running to the women's restroom.
Toad finished the shift-change and left me alone in the office, with Poopie still "checking the plumbing" in the women's restroom. I picked up the Kansas City Star and shuffled the papers to the classifieds section. I had been trying to find a cheap car that sounded like it would at least pass the state inspection.
I was rewarded with a surprise of my own.
"FOR SALE: 1990 Ford Probe. Engine in great condition. Body badly damaged. All service records available. $300."
I couldn't believe it. Maybe there really was a God at work. I called the listed number and asked if the car had been sold yet. I told the owner I would be there to look at it that night after work.
Immediately after hanging up the phone, I grabbed a credit card slip and filled it out - Lee generously loaned me another three hundred dollars.
That night Toad drove me to examine the Probe. It was a light-colored car, but the same basic model as Tracy's old one. I started it up and it ran perfectly. It was even drivable, despite the entire passenger side being smashed in from what looked to have been a particularly horrific accident.
I gladly handed the owner the three hundred dollars, took the title and drove the car to my place with Toad following me.
Initially, I had planned on taking the engine and the old Probe to some shop and paying a real mechanic to install the new engine. Toad, in his pixified state, decided he would teach me how to do it myself. I was a bit nervous, with visions of the Family Truckster still fresh in my mind, but decided Lee's generosity had probably neared its limit.
Normally, I had nothing but complete disdain for anything pixie. But I found it easy to tolerate Toad's superhuman energy. We put profound amounts of work into meticulously dismantling the old engine from the Probe. Once it was out, I cleaned up all of the parts we would be reusing on the replacement engine. I also cleaned the new engine and repainted it.
We worked until 1, 2 and sometimes 3 in the morning every day for two weeks. Every night, I would come home completely black with grease. Sometimes, Tracy would call and I would give her a status report. Every night, I would sleep deeply from exhaustion.
It was about 1am when I got in the Probe and turned the key for the first time since replacing the engine. It took a couple of tries but it soon started... and ran... and continued to run. I hopped out and examined the engine - no horrible wheezing. I was so elated, it must have overloaded some neural pathways in my brain. I couldn't even experience the elation. I was probably in shock. Toad and I celebrated with a beer and I returned home in the Probe and took a long shower to wash away the sweat and car grease. I fell into my nest of blankets, exhausted. The phone rang.
I picked up the phone, knowing it was Tracy. I couldn't wait to tell her the good news - I had saved the Probe, thus preserving an artifact of her mother.
"Hey!"
I heard a slur of unintelligible speech. The only thing recognizable was the tone and pitch that always brought me so much warmth.
"What?"
"I fhuchking hhate yhou!"
"Jesus fucking Christ. You're drunk. Go to fucking bed."
I hung up the phone and it rang again a few seconds later. I unplugged it and went to the kitchen and unplugged the phone mounted on the wall.
Something inside me went cold. Not the kind of cold from something that's been in a refrigerator, nor the kind I'd felt outside on some winter evening. It was the cold of death - a little ball of death swelling up from an infinitesimally small point like a tumor somewhere in the pit of my stomach. I had to think. I had to be alone with nothing but the curvature of the Earth around me and infinite dark above. I got in the Probe and drove.
I've lived in the same general area all of my life, but I've progressively moved further south. I can get in a car and head north and it's like a three hour trip back in time. I headed into the past.
I passed a row of radio towers sitting out in the middle of some overgrown field, the red lights atop blinking rhythmically. They seemed evil, like that pulse was trying to become the beat of my heart to turn me into an emotionless machine - the armature man of which I had dreamt during an opiate mindbath.
I drove by the pixie pads - giant beehives of strange people I probably wouldn't want to know. People stacked atop one another like canned meat.
I drove by Willie's dilapidated house, with the floodlights coming on to alert the Pit Bulls of some hapless prey straying into their sites. If I'd had the window down, I could probably have heard them barking furiously in their mindless hatred.
I passed the spot where I'd been arrested on my way to Shafto's house. It was empty now - he'd moved after being convicted of molesting a little girl. Nobody had moved into it yet. It was as dark and empty as I was.
I went to my grandparents' old house. Where it had all started. The only place that could bring me comfort. A new family had long since occupied it. All the trees were gone - the giant cottonwood from which my grandmother always warned my cousins and me to stay away and the orchard in the back. The white fence had been torn down and the garden turned to lawn. The state had bought the pasture in the back, where we used to have cows and horses behind the orchard, and it was now overgrown with weeds.
And there it ended. My life in a three hour drive. I thought little about Tracy during the trip, focusing more on the memories preserved in each place like flies caught in amber. But my subconscious thought about it and it had reached a decision. I wasn't aware of it at a conscious level, but I felt at peace.
I returned home and put in Beethoven's ninth - it always inspired me. I realized things in the universe always repeat at vastly different scales. If one were able to think of scale in a different way - it wasn't just about size, it was also about ontology. Spirals appear in seashells and galaxies. Spheres show up in water droplets and stars. Matter and energy can't be created or destroyed, only converted from one form to another. And so it was with pain - it couldn't be created or destroyed, only transferred from one person to another or converted into something else. Tracy was numbing hers and transferring it to me, just as I had done with painkillers - transferring my anguish to those around me. But Tracy taught me to stop the transfer and take the other path. Mine had been converted into love.
Posted by DevilMonkey at 11:43 AM
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Comments
Maybe she needs a blood transfusion. I know I do!
Posted by: Little Wheelchair Johnny at December 12, 2006 12:00 PM
Good lord, your writing is so beautiful. Some chapters propel the larger story, and some stories are just filler. From key chapters to filler, your writing is a joy to read. This particular chapter is my favorite.
Posted by: Al at December 12, 2006 12:01 PM
i agree with al, this chapter is beautiful. i fear it's the last, though. if it is, thank you for this great story.
Posted by: Troen at December 12, 2006 01:04 PM
I like the way you described going into the past and your emotions on the way things were and had been. It kind of summed up most of the things that you had been through and allowed us to "relive" some of those things with you.
Posted by: Wayland at December 12, 2006 02:14 PM
That last bit about the contrast with pain and energy was way too cool. It's the most profound thing I have ever read.
Posted by: jason gordon at December 12, 2006 03:42 PM
Another absolutely great update. The last paragraph was very well written and thought provoking. I hope you realize how many people enjoy reading your work and what an excellent writer you truly are. I hope a book is in the works!
Posted by: Jordan at December 12, 2006 03:55 PM
it just keeps getting better!
Posted by: brihan at December 12, 2006 09:58 PM
Your writing, as always, is incredible.
I'm more invested in your relationship with Tracy surviving than any other I haven't been a member of.
Keep up the great work and get that book deal you deserve.
Posted by: kevin at December 13, 2006 08:21 AM
so is you gonna lose the hoe or what, homeboy?
Posted by: Nikita at December 13, 2006 09:46 PM
You're completely amazing. Kicking opiates is one of the hardest things in the world to do, and I'm absolutely in awe of your strength and selflessness.
Posted by: Amy at December 14, 2006 01:07 AM
dude, your story touches me on so many levels, and you write with such profound beauty. all i can say is that i hope things work out for the best for you and i look forward to reading mor of your inspiring writing.
Posted by: oliver hazard perry at December 14, 2006 05:33 AM
I have to say this is prbably my favorite entry. Looking over your life, something I'm only too familiar with. It took you a long time but you finally brought the story back to human and interesting, all that is good must come to an end. I'm very interested to see how it all pans out.
Posted by: jarrod at December 14, 2006 01:04 PM
Some of the most amazing writing i've ever laid my eyes on. I'd go so far to call this modern litriture in its own right. This particular piece leaves me witha feeling of dread, i just hope i'm wrong.
Posted by: kiwi at December 14, 2006 02:45 PM
Coming of age in lower-class suburbia sucks. A lot. You only have my condolences with a lot of this stuff. I haven't had the same things happen to me, but The Craziness can be a welcome distraction, or it can go rabid and bite you in the ass. I know that from personal experience.
Oh and something you may get a kick out of, especially if you start to consider going back to classes: nootropics.
For the last two years, every finals week I end up eating to many and vomiting before a final. This past semester I finally got consuming legal, OTC anti-dementia medication right.
It's ridiculous.
If nothing else, take a look. Weird shit does happen.
Posted by: cthulhupunk0 at December 14, 2006 04:10 PM
cthulhupunk0, wtf??
Smart pills?? Is this shit for real?? i'm reading up on this now and can't believe what i'm hearing..errr..reading, u absolutely MUST tell me more about this.. do u take it yourself, do u notive improvement, what are the drawbacks?
Posted by: Nikita at December 14, 2006 08:22 PM
Al, I know your comment is way up there now, but--if you're going to commend somebody's "beautiful writing," it is generally best not to include statements like "some stories are just filler" in your next breath.
Just sayin'.
Posted by: Stray cat at December 15, 2006 01:40 AM
My favorite story so far. You are a truly gifted writer. Please keep them coming!
Posted by: Tim at December 15, 2006 10:27 AM
Nikita
Haha.. yes, your right. Unfortunately some of us are not as eloquent as DM, but beleive me, I meant it in the best possible way. I wanted to , that even those chapters that don't contribute as much story wise, to the work as a whole, are still incredibly well written, and strong.
Posted by: al at December 15, 2006 01:35 PM
I have been reading your stories from the very begining and you have sucked me in. I do not know why, but I sit down and have conversations with my mom about your writing. In the begining she frowned upon me reading about the drug abuse, and how I would praise how you put things into perspective. But then as it went further, you revealed you over coming the abuse and attempting to make yourself into something on this planet. Though I am sure you are used to people saying the same things I am saying now, I want you to know after reading this I started thinking about my life. I may not have lived as long, and I may not have gone throgh as much as you have.
Mostly because I am only 17 years old, soon to be 18 in January. But I have been through hell these past 2 months, to the point where I've had a non-stop migraine for over a week now. I hung with people that were just like who you were hanging with. When I pulled away, I faced a lot of threats prooving how good of "friends" they truely were. I didn't know my friends loved me so much that they really wanted to slit my throat. I have been so lost for a while now, and trying to figure out my life.
Reading your stories inspired me. And I feel like for some strange reason I actually still have the strength to gain control and return to normalcy once again.
Thank you.
Posted by: Femja at December 15, 2006 07:37 PM
don't leave us here, ok? i'm sure you won't, but...
there's something about alcohol that scares me more than anything else, i don't know why that is, or why i'm doing this to myself, reading your work, but...
ok - i know why - you're good - a light - rare, in this world, i feel. found your site this morning, read straight through, will be back for more.
one last before i go - interesting that, of the two authors you mention, madelaine l'engle and tom robbins would be they. have you read 'fierce invalids' and/or 'a severed wasp'?
thank you - travel safe - more please.
Posted by: albertRoss at December 17, 2006 04:32 PM
dude!!!
u gotta learn how the sigs in comments work..the name under each comment is who it belongs to. i would never comment on someone else's comments, that's duchebaggery at its finest. just look at what happened last time people did it and, ironcly enough, i was envloved.
Posted by: Nikita at December 17, 2006 07:41 PM
update. i command thee.
Posted by: zach at December 19, 2006 08:58 PM
Mate, i hope i'm wrong in where i see this going. I'm glad i stumbled upon this site, and i've told everyone about it. All the best
Posted by: Aussie at December 20, 2006 04:39 AM
All I want for Christmas is an UPDATE!
Posted by: BiggTrouble at December 20, 2006 02:06 PM
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