Thursday, November 28, 2013

"Rehab: The Fake Tales of a Real Asshole" Scene 4




The first night sounds like a scene out of Schindler’s List. Lots of moaning and weeping. Every half hour you hear someone throw themselves against their door. Yeah. They lock us down at night. Mr. W. Scott didn't tell us this until after dinner which caused an uproar until he looked up from his clipboard. Mouths shut faster than a first day inmates ass.

Where do I get this stuff from?

Sad Sack cant sleep so he is just lying on his bed punching his palm. He's been doing it for hours. I cant sleep with what sounds like hard, rhythmic masturbation. I stretch on my bed and yawn which is the universal signal for wanting to sleep and I hear bed springs. Sad Sack jumps from his bed and gets in my face.

“Told you we'd fall in love” I tell him. He just breathes in my face. He smells like cocoa butter. That's not racist. He uses the stuff.

“Can you shut the fuck up while I'm trying to sleep?!” he hisses in my face. I am so tempted to kiss him on the tip of his nose. Instead I just poke him on it.

“Boop.” He growls and lays back down.

“I need to break some shit.”

Or...you could sleep” I suggest.

“I cant sleep like this” he says. “Shit brings back bad memories.”

“Jail?”

“Fuck you.”

“Just asking.”

“Just because I'm Black its gotta be jail, huh?” he says.

“Well...if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck its probably trying to sell you insurance” I tell him.

“It feels like when I was a kid and having to hole up in my room when my daddy was drunk” he says.

“I think we're having a breakthrough.”

“And now you've ruined it” Sad Sack tells me before pulling a pillow over his face. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sweet prince” I whisper to him.

“You are one strange motherfucker” he says. I smile to myself comfortable in my oddness and eventually fall asleep to what sounds like fucking down the hall.

I wake up at 6 and Sad Sack is on the floor doing pushups. He doesn't acknowledge me so I head to the bathroom and wash my face. I would brush my teeth but I'm not trying to impress anyone. I dry my face and notice that my hands are shaking. Oh, fun. The shakes. I've heard about this but I stay pretty pickled so I've never actually experienced them. If it were anyone but me this would be funny.

Fuck it. Still funny.

“Look what I can do!” I shout to Sad Sack who isn't where I left him. He's standing with his arms folded and Mr. W. Scott in front of him looking at his clipboard. He looks up for a moment and sees my hands and checks something off.

“Let's see how funny this situation is once the delirium tremens sets in” he says.

“I failed Latin” I tell him.

“You failed life” he says before floating away.

“He should be a comedian!” I tell Sad Sack who is still standing there. “What's wrong? You have a dream they gave you a new roommate and we couldn't have our passionate discussions anymore?”

“No, fool” he says. “They say my check bounced and I need to get out of here by noon.”

“Its 'cause you're Black, isn't it?” I ask. “Fight the power!” I shout before running down the hall. I get to Boobs' doorway and she lifts her top damn near causing me to fall. Its perfect because when she lifts it her shirt covers her face. I walk closer to her and ask “So what are you in for?”

“Guess” she says through her shirt.

“Rabies?” She laughs.

“You're funny” she says. Her voice is hot. “What are you in for?” she asks, still talking through her shirt.

“I'm addicted to love.”

“That's a great song.”

“Its a song?!”

She laughs again and begins to lower her shirt which means this conversation has ended. I walk back to my room and Sad Sack is sitting on his bed crying again. I sit down next to him and he sighs and looks at me.

“Slavery, huh?” I say while shaking my head. “I mean, its not as if there weren't enough people to build this country. Why bring all your people across the sea to build houses and tend farms? Why couldn't the Indians do it? Huh?! Fight the po--” I begin to say.

“Please stop talking” he says.

“Only because you said please.” I sit on my bed and watch my hands shake. “If I played Operation right now I'd get slaughtered.” Sad Sack ignores me. “I can pay for your treatment here.”

“What?”

“Hmm” I ponder. “Let me see if I can say it in a way you understand. Ahem! Yo, my bruhvun man! I gots them mad duckets and cheeses.”

“You have lots of money?”

“Yes!” I say and give him the Black Power salute. “Its like we're brothers...brother.”

“Where you get money from?” he asks.

“My papa” I tell him. “He hates me but he hates me more when I am drunk. I do things that The Man doesn't agree with.”

“Like what?”

“Fucking my step-mother.”

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