Pattern Against
User
-Drew Peeples
Chapter
1: Flakes of Winter
Time passes,
first without feelings, then with words, in the end Blimp appears, reappears.
I sit naked on my stone bed smoking a cigarette waiting
for the time to pass.
6 a.m.; winter has begun
The
alarm has yet to go off and still here I ponder empty thoughts my body
awakening this vessel from the habitual morning practice: I unplug the alarm,
scream a few obscenities, brew a fat batch of Joe and remove my boxers
replacing the naked space with my palm and a quick jerking motion repeating the
same two actions with precise consistency…back and forth, as it was. A few
minutes come and go, I clean the damage done and step into the shower in search
of a divine cleanse. I contemplate shaving, in hopes of that authentic
clean-cut look so my boss can prance me round like a prized pony at a minstrel
show, but I refuse and quickly dry off, throw on this and that, then the long
awaited cup of Joe fresh of black and bean beaming a sort of lustrous, sedative
creativity akin to the likes of the great psychedelic musicians of the 1960’s.
I concluded every morning alongside a chain smoking session where I puffed and
choked on sweet tar as the black nectar quenched my throat o any worries. I
look out my window upon the decaying hill fighting a losing battle against that
fickle bitch time. There would be new life come the return of Spring, but that
would be some time in the making and for now I watched patiently as the leaves
plummeted as feathers left behind by their masters…never to return, piling in
stacks, knowing nothing better such a precious life. I find it hard to relax
when I am constantly seeking these millions of thread speeding through my lame
skull forever remaining unsure what to latch onto. I pout another cup of sweet
Joe sprinkle in a hint of ecstasy for old time’s sake. I revisit reverberations
these wild nights spent partying for the sake of a hedonistic hoo-rah…one final
one before sobriety steps in, fixing the damage done (note: it never happens).
I recall a particular evening puking
chunks in the bushes hoping no one would discover my awful deeds. He came in
the middle of the night absolute silence treading ease down the corridor and
smiles meekly upon my defeat.
-You
were hammed back there man, says Coyote.
I
stealthfully smack the vomit from my lips and give rise to a meager smile.
-Tis
nothing but a game of cat and mouse, it would appear.
-You
mean this?
-No,
all of this
-Let
us transcend
-I
have already transcended, my brother.
-No,
far from it.
He
whips out the play-doh unsure what the contents contain, yet his comrade
insured him this would certainly do the trick.
-It’ll
do the trick, or so He says.
-Who
is he?
-He
has done us well up to now, do not question Him.
-Up
to now he has done well, who is to say following will all be the same?
-Because
we know of nothing else but this.
-But
where?
-Where?
-What?
-What?
Where?
-Enough
of this folly…where will we smoke the concoction?
-Ah,
Coyote says, we shall make haste past the Garden!
We run through fields kicking fairy
dust from earth’s roots the air sucks dirt exasperated lungs seek sweet
serenity. He packs the glass full of the stuff and we take off no preparation
required save the flame. I can see him, and even I for that matter, but my being
leaps through time and reason beckoning a new age quickly forgotten. I am no
longer existing on that third planet from the sun now able to see this new
depth unearthing before me…perhaps this is just the folly those hopes of
something new and exciting, if you will. Nothing ever really changes really the
same old thing I have seen before this time a different scope for my taking,
but that was not true this evening where the stars were perfectly aligned with
every atom in our celestial bodies. Our empty shells sat side by side while our
minds pranced on comets riding horses made of meteor and star stuff. I rode by
a desert planet inhibited by petite slime creatures who communicated by feel.
They invited me to a grand dinner by promises of space drugs, and when these
substances did not arrive I fled back to the great unknown where horse friend
and I leaped into wormholes traveling to places of science fiction and the
like. I called out his name, Coyote, and all that responded was the vastness of
space. I didn’t want to leave this world, but I knew my time was surely coming
could feel the weight of my world beginning to fill back in and I slipping down
through dark matter…smoothly caressing the stars as tender nipples.
I was back, I look at Coyote’s body
than his eyes. He is still lost at sea, perhaps I have a better tolerance for
the stuff considering all the times I danced the fair dance with miss Lucy. I
meditated on my journey as I awaited my friend’s safe return from the void. I
could hear birds chirping, as they sang a song follow me follow me follow me sailor down the waterway fetch the tailor
at the gallows and follow me follow me. Coyote tapes my shoulder my eyes
rush open grabbing his face and we stand up in unison eyes locking smiles and
all.
-We
fucking did it Snow! (Note: my true name
is Snow Owl. I live in no dimension of reality I call my own taking on the
burden of the eternal wanderer…a mere passenger this game life still lusting
for life).
-What
did you see? I says
-Everything.
There were fucking dinosaurs. Did you see the fucking dinosaurs, bro? They
spoke in tongues and accepted brother Coyote as one of their own. They warned
me about the Christians…said it was them who killed off the dinosaurs with
their pagan magic. Turns out Christ was a robot, after all, from millions of
years ago and 2,000 years back the religion grew back to the importance it once
held but tis a much longer story the one the first incantation of Christianity
goes extinct and the conquest leading up to its revival in the time we believe
in the modern era to be the original conception of the religion. Brilliant
stuff it is though I want to hear about your journey, brother.
I
was frightened at first so thrilled with my experience and now in comparison it
was nothing to the caliber described by brother Coyote. I put my head down in
shame mumbling some stock phrases waiting for the time to pass. Never smoked
the play-doh again knowing it would never be a grandeur illusion than Coyote’s
apparition.
Phone rings, I snap back to the
present reality fully alert. I pray to sweet Abraham tis some telemarketer or
fool ringing…I look at the caller id flashing her name…fully aware the content
of the upcoming conversation. I ignore, strip naked and take another shower
this time quite different though the water remains cold and I do not wash. I
close my eyes as the frozen tears trickle heat down my body coalescing agile
nipples ready for the taking. My thoughts reflect a time of stellar
procrastination in hopes the memory can help the situation at hand.
This was fucking purgatory toiling
away a beautiful Friday morning locked in the mediocrity of busy work a clear
reminder our titles were teachers though treated like the students we taught.
You either kissed ass all the way to the top or you dealt with no respect at
all. The Joe was dry the remainder waiting in the thermos downstairs as I sit
here wasting life listening to nothingness: circles and all. I was keen for
another cone…hell by this point a few cones would be quite nice. This ‘teacher’s
development,’ as my employers would have me believe, reminded me of my public
education as the authoritative automatons preached senselessness and obedience
in the eyes of the law and money…apparently knowing better than I about
anything under the grey sun. I went through school for 20 odd some years so I
would never have to sit in the student’s desk ever again and yet here I sat
same tedious shit same tedious folks biting fingernails tapping feet impatient
of the time looking out the window in 10 minute intervals becoming more rapid
the closer to the end as the clock’s hand maneuvered towards lunchtime. Regardless
the agony of the whole ordeal, once it came to the long-awaited conclusion,
there was such an immense joy flowing within every hallow vein of our bodies,
and we would celebrate with a good cone, sometimes a few depending on the
misery of the day…and today was one of those days that for whatever reason (note: the reason was normally a lack of sex,
yet in this case that was not the case) I was starting to get extremely
frustrated most likely a lack of sleep and the Joe running thin out of sheer
laziness couldn’t wake up early enough to brew a pot having to stop by the
Starbucks on the way to work wasting more time but you could come to work late
with a cup of Starbucks because everyone knew about the dreadful early morning
procedures sure it was expensive and a complete waste of money that Starbucks
was but it had the authentic American
taste constantly reminding me the land of the free and all that nonsensical
nationalism and the hoo-rah emerging.
-David,
what do you have prepared for the class? (Note:
David is my slave name).
I
hadn’t been paying attention constantly thinking aboard a lost ship mongst a
harbor of deceit the tiny world my mind’s creation. I learned how to improvise
in theater class back in the days of high school: smoking joints in the
bathroom between classes, looking up skirts at my locker, and spouting bullshit
in class acting as if I was paying attention when in actuality reels of useless
information flashed before my eager eyes.
-A
simple game of Battleship for the eager lads, I says in perfect enthusiasm
stressing the value I (note: seemingly)
placed in this weak occupation.
-Can
you demonstrate to everyone else how we would implement that into a classroom
setting?
I
abide the wishes placed on my bullshit suit replying with a simple nod.
-With
ease, I says casually dishing out confidence I don’t actually possess or wish
to do so.
I go up to the board and draw a grid
(note: 4X4, no exceptions), scribble
some words, and explain the whole procedure unblinking. I bow down like some
self-obsessed performer (note: I was) and
take my seat. All in a day’s work, as it would appear.
I scratch the dry skin my brittle
beat crumpling waste onto the dust and scabs accumulated upon my living room
floor…endless grey specks floating through vast space this manmade no-man’s
land. I smoke another cigarette trying to lean my mind away from he issue at
hand: she would find a way to communicate with me, one way or another. She knew
where I lived and a small portion of my inner circle of friends (note: it’s always hard for me to keep a
tight grip on those I consider friends)…the one’s who would rat me out for
the sake of justice, but really an affirmation of one’s own pride following
certain moralistic practices imposed by the ruling class they so despise and
all for the sake of salvation for their own dead souls.
-Forgive
me father, for I have sinned.
-Well,
I’m listening…
-Father,
this past weekend I went to my girlfriend’s house, because she invited me over,
you see, and unbeknownst to me her parents were out of town for the weekend
attending this Catholic conference for the diocese of Chartown, naturally.
-Naturally,
my son.
-I
ask her if her parents are aware I am at their house and she tells me all is
fine with the Lord and since the Lord and a parent’s authority go hand in hand
as it says in the holy Commandments…
-Undoubtedly,
my son
-I
assume this means they know of my presence and my arrival to her abode is met
with such force as I submerge myself around dozens of people: they drink beer,
fondle each other’s breasts, listen to satanic music like nails scratching on a
chalkboard.
-Enough
my son, do remember this is the lord’s house after all. Nothing ever happens
within these walls which he does not allow.
-My
condolences father, I did not mean to anger the Lord.
-Oh
but he is a loving kind my child, so long as you listen to what he says…do
continue.
-I
see Denice, that’s my girlfriend’s name, and ask her what all this hoo-rah is about
and inquire if her parents know all of these people are acting sinful in their
temple. She giggles thinking nothing of my acquisition and there it is right in
front of my face unsheathed from leather jacket: a marijuana joint.
-Hail
Mary full of grace the Lord was not with thee an absence of blessings upon
sinners and twas a womb made of the anti0christ this horrific night you are
describing my son. I am assuming you come here today at such an hour to tell me
you took part in the puffing of the reefer/ Am I correct in my interrogation?
Oh
father please forgive me for I have sinned!
-Only
the lord can forgive you my son, and that comes at a price.
-Twenty
dollars? It’s all I’ve got father
-no
indulgences my son this is a thing of the past. Nowadays, you just got to say
some hail marys.
He
takes a D20 (note: a twenty-sided dice, typically
used for Dungeons n’ Dragons) from his drawer and rolls a 13…giggling a
sinister bicker, a howl from the underworld.
-That’s
13 hail Marys my boy, you do know the words, ay?
-Of
course father, I pray the rosary weekly with my parents.
-Make
it daily, my son.
He
opens the door and motions his hand as a means to tell me to go outside. I
kneel down near the recently shut door and whistle away 13 hail Marys with no
problems at all thanks to all of those years studying those beads as I flicked
them one by one in a soothing motion towards divine pleasure. The prayers that
followed when you stroked each one resembled a moaning of infinite sensation
that kept me crawling back for more.
I
knock on the door, it opens, and I sit back down. I t was usual to be in a
confessional where you can’t see the priest’s face, but I preferred the face to
face approach Father Molloy provided in his office (note: some little boys would differ with my approach).
-How
much do you love the Holy Mother?
-As
much as a man can love her virgin embodiment.
-Good,
you have been raised well my son, I see the light of Christ in you.
He
takes a statue of the sacred Mary from a large cardboard box and forcibly
pushes it into my hand.
-Take
this in remembrance of me.
He
makes the sign of the cross and I leave feeling my sins had been completely
absolved.
Years later I lost any remaining
faith I had in the good lord during those collegiate years o’ drugs, booze, and
sex. I brought the Mary statue with me to university and promptly turned it
into a bong within a few months. Coyote, Panther and I got caught smoking it
behind a church…50 hours of community service followed.
When I was a Catholic, I was
strictly against the cruelty of abortion shaming women who went through with it
unaware the obvious mistreatment of the fucking system, man. Now I was in need
of an abortion of my own, or our own…perhaps just her own, but I am still
unsure on the matter. This cluster of ideas needed immediate eradication, for
there was no longer any reason for love to tear us apart. The phone hadn’t rung
for hours as I danced fanciful nutcrackers harboring memories the ol’ faithful
mind. I took another shower in an attempt to spank one out with nothing of the
sort coming. I called my old friend Damien, had been years, and of course his
widow picks up saying he’s left this world…always the reckless one was he.
Damien and I were fraternity brother
for some time (note: it only lasted for
one semester because he was such a wild child), and we spend that period
filled with debauchery: I was a socialist punk riding on a high horse made of
bronze whereas Damien was a rich kid living above the law. We were ever so
different in the way we constructed society and our place in it, yet the two of
us made for an stoppable force of shenanigans, mischief and general anarchy. I
remember the night we got initiated together nose deep in the rock jamming
along to Pink Floyd on a mild Autumn’s eve. He looks up from the mountain, rock
dangling midst nostril, a baffling look posed across his forehead face fully
scarlet.
-We’ve
almost forgotten about the Goose, my brothers
He
takes two bottles of Grey Goose from the cabinet under the bed and brings over
a tray of fresh glasses; he pours liberally into our glasses and raises an empty
bottle high into the unbending air as we cheer uncontrollably…the excitement
certainly a result of the cane rotting our navels and brains. We gathered round
the television for the viewing of some classic sitcoms, and we all basked in
our laziness while puffing joints and reminding one another the comradery
between this band of brother: ready to engage in combat, tomfoolery, and the
occasional causalities of our onslaught. We were preparing for something
different this time thanks to some help from our little friends; we readied the
stations and Damien threw down the ground plan for our next mission
-Here’s
the deal brother, there are two fraternities on campus that mean anything to
the student body, and that especially means the female body.
We all snicker maniacally that
Damien was always one to crack jokes and the such, and most of these routine
bits revolved around his promiscuous masculinity. We were all cynical,
heteronormative assholes (note: We found
out later Reggie and Samuel were having a gay thing between them and they
apparently thought the rest of us were narcissistic ass farts, least the rest
of us that were left by our Sophomore years where all the ‘hardcore’ brother
(sidenote: me included) were gone due to an overabundance of testosterone and
narcotic).
-That
being said my brother, this is not simply another outing where we try to get
our dicks wet like Samuel did with that fair blond over at O’ Flannigan’s
O’ Flannigan’s was a shit hole we
used to love endangering due to the surplus of skanky broads. The blond in
questions that Samuel shagged was in fact a prostitute….and a transvestite, no
surprise in any of that.
-Mere
ass is below us brothers, and I don’t mean blow like Monica did in my dorm room
just moments ago, he says slapping his knees in anticipation
We laugh again, louder this time (note: Monica had herpes; edit: I suppose
Damien had herpes, as well).
-Something
greater exists before us and as opportunity stares us in the eye, we must make
haste brother. The Alpha Alphas think they are better, faster, and even
stronger than us Alpha Betas, but I say nay to them for we are more Alpha than
those douchebags (note: this is an
offensive word connotation the tampon used during the woman’s period. Damien
especially liked using this term and did us all for quite some time) will
ever be, and no way in Satan’s scarlet fire and brimming brimstones are we less
Betas than those…those, Commies!
His conservative side shone through
at that moment, but I fancied Damien all the same because he wasn’t any bit
conservative in the way he addressed conflict; he resolved situations with
absolute anarchy, no questions asked. He had a simple plan of action this time
around: we take our broken pool table and put it on the roof of the other
fraternity’s house Quite a brilliant plan despite it only being seven in the
evening and still clearly bright out; we were too fucked in the head to
register the errors our invasion and this poor decision making had only
manifested worse due to our current inebriated states. We simply carried the
pool table to the back of the other house, six men strong, holstered a ladder
against the building…Damien and Samuel made their way up first, because they
were top heavy (note: Reggie supports
this claim, least for Samuel’s case) and the four of us tried holding it up
despite our intoxication and here comes Samuel on his high and mighty horse
bickering all the way until next Sunday, and us lads were all too coked up to
realize he was actually right in what needed to be done but we simply assumed
the faggot was being pompous ass. We all gather round and Reggie and Carter
climb on up, we try again, fail again. Not enough man power on the roof we need
another, say Damien, yet we need two on the bottom to lever it up their way. I
run to the street and call to the first passer-by I spot. I tell him it is his
fucking duty as a student of this university to follow my graceful lead. A
loner he was, looking for meaning just like the crew I rolled with; he took my
command no questions asked, perhaps in hopes of getting a bid into our esteemed
club. I climb up the ladder joining the boys and we are successful in our duty.
Strangely, we paid no mind to the Alpha Alphas sitting in their house as they contacted
the campus police to arrive immediately. We saw that old familiar pig wagon
pull up, and just as quickly we shifted mongst the shadows, through the bushes,
back to Mordor.
We were put on suspension; we all
developed terrible drug habits and addictions; I haven’t talked to the lads in
ages.
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