A Lie Preview

Part 2. Missed Part 1? It can be found somewhere within the bowels of this website.

The pharmacy is in the back and is the only real reason we exist. There are sixteen aisles in the store, only two of them matter. Aisles thirteen and fourteen, this is where we keep the over the counter medication. They are also the two numbers I have grown to hate because if the customers aren’t telling me their life story then they are asking me where something is. I say these two numbers so much that when thrown a curve ball of a question that has nothing to do with what is on those aisles I still say thirteen or fourteen and have to quickly change my answer. It is the little things that make you go insane.

The store has everything anyone could need in a live or die situation. Of course some things cost a lot more here than some other places, but the deals are fair and we get a lot of the locals coming in regularly. Every day is nearly the same as the day before it, but every now and then something changes. Like cigarette prices that have risen since New York State decided they needed more money to redecorate their offices or spend on hookers. In case you were wondering hookers are getting quite expensive it seems especially since the cost of their cigarettes went up. It’s a vicious cycle that every one of us has to pay. Because someone has to be making money off of something.

My break is almost up and I really don’t want to walk back in there and put on a fake smile, like I give a shit. I don’t know how I got myself into this situation, but yet in some twisted way I do. If it wasn’t for the drugs I don’t know what I would do with myself. I am rather confused about how everything really is and I often wonder if it is my brain that is lying to me. I throw my cigarette down on the ground, it makes a hissing noise as it penetrates the snow. I twist the cap off my shitty energy drink and swallow another pill that I most certainly need to get through the rest of my shift. It is another long day in hell and I welcome it with a smile.

The thing about it is. That it is really hard to chop up this book or burn it. I mean I guess you could, but who has that kind of money? If you do then you are in luck because…

 

Look I’m not very good at selling my soul which is why I have to do it and not someone I pay is doing it. Jesus that’s a bad sentence. I’m not sure what about it is bad. I just don’t like it.  

People With No Name

“Is there anything I can help you find?” The customer looks over from the entry way of the store at the short stubby clerk standing behind the counter. The customer only came in for one item and has no idea where in this store it could possibly be.
“Yes you can I’m looking for. Oh it’s right there. Right in front of me the whole time.” The customer smiles as she reaches for the simple item on the shelf in front of her.
“Glad we could be of some help,” the clerk smiles. The customer gives off a short laugh as she carries the item to the counter.

“Me too. Does that happen a lot?”
“What do you mean?” The clerk asks the customer.
“Someone asks you where something is and they find it right in front of them?”
“Yes it happens a lot. They say it’s my gift.”
“That’s funny. Who says that?” the customer asks.
“The people with no name.”
“Who?,” the customer asks puzzled.
“The people with no name,” the clerk says calmly.
“Is that other customers?”

“No, I’m sorry I’ve said too much. I didn’t realize you didn’t know, never mind.”
“Know what?” the customer asks taken back.
“I’ve said too much. Are you ready to check out?”
“Where are these people you speak of?”
“If you must know they’re all around us. Can’t you at least feel them?”

The customer shakes her head and starts to become even more confused.
“They control everything and everything controls them. How do you not know about the people with no name?”
“Is there a manager or someone I can talk to?” the customer asks politely.
“Of course there is but why would you need to speak to them?”
“Because I do. In private if that’s okay?”
“Of course, of course just a moment please.” The clerk turns his head and begins to whisper as if someone is there, but there is no one the customer can see.

“The manager will be here in a moment.”
“But you didn’t even page or call anyone.”
“Yes I did,” the clerk says sternly.
“No you didn’t. Can you please page the manager for me?”
“Ma’am I already did and she will be here in just a moment.”
“What the hell is going on here?”

“How may I help you today?” A female voice asks.
The customer turns around to face the woman. “Are you the manager?”
“Yes I am, how may I help you?” She asks again.
“I need to talk to you in private,” the customer says as if to test the manager’s sanity.
“We have a non-believer,” the clerk informs the manager.
“Just because I don’t hear voices that make me a non-believer in something?,” the customer asks irate.
“You don’t hear them?” The manager asks politely.
“Hear what?” The customer demands.
“The people who have no name,” the manager says.
“There are no people here. Have you two lost your minds?”
“Ma’am there is no reason to be rude,” the clerk says.
The manager turns her head and begins to whisper and again no one is there.

“They say you are just not ready.”
“Not ready for what? Are you saying I’m not ready to hear voices in my head?”
“We don’t hear voices in our head ma’am. The voices are all around us. I tried to explain that the people are all around us, but I don’t think she understands.”
“How can she understand anything we are talking about if she does not believe?” The manager asks as if the customer isn’t even there.
“This is all just madness. I am calling someone I hope you know that and I’m never shopping here again.”

The customer throws her item up on the counter and storms out of the store. The manager calmly walks over to the counter and picks up the item, “Some people just aren’t ready yet.”
“I know it saddens me, but maybe one day.”
A hand reaches out from behind the clerk and rests on his shoulder.
“One day they will all believe,” the owner of the hand reveals.

A Lie Preview

Days Keep on Going

Every day is exactly the same with only one slight variance. Wake up, take drugs, and go to either work or school. On really good days I just sit here and never move. This is what my life has become since she left me. My own personal prison. I can’t really say that I hate it all that much. We are all after some sort of prison when you stop to think about it. At least mine is my own.

Lately I haven’t had to go to college because of winter break, and to be honest I wasn’t really going that much before anyways so it’s all the same to me. School starts in a few weeks, I am almost certain, and I’m really not looking forward to it at all. I never wanted to go there in the first place, but my Mom told me if I wanted to continue to live in my house that I had to go to school. Really kind of a shitty situation but then again I live rent free. This frees up my money for the things that keep me going.

I know a man in town and he basically keeps me hooked to stay alive. It’s a rather sad existence, but hey I am still alive. I’m currently at work on one of my two fifteen minute breaks. I work in a drug store and some might say that’s not the best place for someone on drugs to work, but they were hiring and I need a job. When I started though I was a lot more stable. Working here isn’t really that bad, it’s just a bit mind numbing. It’s surprising the amount of stupid people in the world, but then again it’s probably not. I have a lot of time to reflect on such trivial thoughts such as intelligence. I work up front which is to say that I man the cash register. The company likes to pretend that I am nothing more than a cashier by giving me the title check out specialist. I don’t specialize in anything other than getting you the fuck out.

I could care less about your problems even though I smile and nod the whole time. All I am really thinking about is how much longer will your bullshit really affect me. I hate it when people talk to me about what they are buying as if I care at all. I really don’t care that you are buying laxatives, condoms, and a Mother’s Day card. All of this is trivial and pointless to me and my life.

It only gets better from here. Not a fan? Literally gets better from here because. Almost had me. I love to talk about my book. Questions? Ask them. Seriously comment away or get at me on twitter. It is sad and lonely in this cage. The chicken stopped talking once I ate him, and let’s be honest he didn’t have much to say before that either….

Hold Me Back

His body is still right before it slams into the hood of the minivan. The impact throws his body like a rag doll out of my view, and further into the busy street. I rush to be near him, but I have a feeling he is closer to me now than ever before. His body lays in a tangled mess of blood, lacerations, and broken bones. The man I once loved is no longer there and all that exist is his empty shell of a body.

A crowd starts to form around his body as I fall to my knees. I cry like I have never cried before. I cry as if my tears will bring him back to life and end this pain running through my body. I try to hold him, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m so lost and confused, and there is so much blood. Someone calls 911, but it is too late for them to do anything. The blood takes the form of a trail leading to the nearest sewage drain. I don’t know what that means. Does any of this mean anything at all? I grab his body with all my love, “What does any of this mean?”

The paramedics arrive and ask me to let go of him, but I can’t bring myself to let go of his body. “Sir you need to let go of him. Sir he needs to go to the hospital,” one of them repeats over and over again. They force me to let go of him and I am covered in his blood. The cops hold me back as the paramedics load his body onto the ambulance, and drive him away. Leaving me behind in a world that doesn’t understand. A world that doesn’t care what we have been through.

Life and Luck

“My lighter quit working on me three cigarettes ago, but I keep flicking the damn thing expecting it to light. That’s really how my life has been lately, broken and useless. If it wasn’t for all the anti smokers informing me of my future death I’d already think I was dead. All my money is tapped out and I’m begging for a light from a crowd of strangers. One wicked old lady felt the need to tell me how smoking is hazardous to my health. Thanks like I didn’t already know that I tell her. The surgeon general’s been warning me for years, but your comment finally hit close to home because your opinion matters on my life. Since were being honest your handbag doesn’t match your shoes and it’s really distracting to the eye. She called me an asshole and I smiled. Nonsmokers are useless. They should all be shot or just shut the hell up. Most of them are hypocritical bastards that down a thirty pack of their favorite beer and decided to take a Sunday drive down the sidewalk. Isn’t it amazing how drunks can forget words like no or force themselves on a woman and not remember, but they can find their cars in a white out blizzard and run over six people? Been smoking ten years and I’ve still been unable to take a life, but my own. I’m the real villain of the world. Maybe I should turn myself in to the police? They might be looking for me and I should be careful. At least I could get a hot meal and a place to stay if they can find me.

You could say I lost my money on the market like everyone else in recent history, but my market was the back room of bars and basements of store buildings. I have a real hard time picking winners if you know what I mean. Bad luck must be something of a disease caught at birth. Sometimes people have it and sometimes people do. My father had all the luck in the world and my uncle couldn’t rub two pennies together to heat his home. Buddhists would call bad luck karma, but that’s just all a bunch of shit. Same with fate and all that other crap people tell you about life and luck. Life is all about luck. Some would say I’m bitter, but really I’m just unlucky. Unless you count the fact that I’m still breathing, but then again that is only because I haven’t died yet. Nope the lord hasn’t pulled my straw just yet even if he has unstrung my bundle. Nope, nope still breathing and still struggling through life’s shit storm, and life is a real shit storm.

I know I am to blame don’t be so cynical and think that I didn’t know that. Searching for the easy money. The American dream or whatever bull shit we are peddling around the world. It’s all the same everywhere. Struggle is struggle in any language. Only thing any of us have in common I guess. What do I know about the world? Barely made it out of bed this morning let alone out of the country. Could this place really be worth losing everything over? I’d trade it in for a carton of cigarettes and a government check. Like most of us I’m too proud to realize how good I might have it. Here I go rambling again instead of begging for money. It’s a long and lonely road out here. You know what I mean?”

She pulls her head buds out of her ears, “Did you want a dollar or something?”

No, I Am Life

“You know she is going to leave you.”

“I know this.”

“Yet you stay?”

“Things are going to work out the way they work out whether you want them to or not. Fate is fate and no matter what information one may have it can’t be changed.”

“You know how tragic that sounds?”

“I am more aware than you could possibly imagine. Having already seen it, having already felt it there is no worse fate than to keep on living with the knowledge of things to come.”

“You should just get out of this. Change your fate if you truly have the power to do so.”

“Useless time and energy spent on a useless resolution for one cannot change their fate. No matter how hard someone tries. She will leave me and not for some time. Her actions will leave me in a condition far worse than death, but I am expected to rise back up from this.”

“You are stupid.”

“No, I am life and she will be death. Have you not been paying attention?”

“You live in another world beyond ours I take it.”

“You mock me because you don’t understand. You mock me because you are afraid I may have news for you.”

“Do you know something you are not telling me?”

“I’d be lying if I told you no, but I’m afraid it is the only answer I have for you.”

You Draw Something

Everything has always been one big problem. One after another in an endless cycle. Everyone and everything about them has been a problem since the dawn of time. The words can’t escape my head fast enough. No one expects shit from me any ways. They all assume they can ride my ass to the promise land.

Loaded gun resting in my mouth I’m so done with that shit. I’m so sick of everything and everyone pushing me to do it. My misery means more to everyone else than it does for me. Push as hard as they like won’t do them any good. If I haven’t done it yet then I’m never going to do it.

Too fucking bitter, too fucking beat down to even bother. The world revolves around no one and it sure as fuck won’t stop because you do. I want so much more from this world than it could ever give to me. Living more lives inside my head than I can put ink to the page. I guess that’s how you know the safety is on.  Don’t want to die just enjoy the threat of it all.

Doesn’t make up for the bleeding asshole the world likes to provide. The nightly penetration gets old, but it also becomes familiar. Constantly on edge. Who the fuck knows what retarded ass shit they will come up with in the morning. What new bull shit policy they make up on the spot? Seems I enjoy the abuse. Really I’m only tired of starting over. Wasting away years of my life only to be like fuck it. Compliance with old age is the real killer.

The gun slips from my lips. What am I doing here? Must be how the mad man feels after pulling the trigger if they feel anything at all. Not feeling anything must feel nice. No one gets off that easy. Everyone has to suffer. Some more than other I guess.