|
Order this writing in the collection book Life on the Edge this huge volume is available for only $2395 |
 |
| |
This appears in a pre-2010 issue
|
|
|
|
| ||
Perversion of Reality
Melissa Sihan Műtlu
It was the final day of school for the senior class of Romeo High School. Collectively, they called themselves “the class of seventy-six.” Joaquin Phillips, Vincent Wrigley, and Eddie Soudain sat in the back of Mrs. Isley’s European history class, waiting impatiently for the bell to ring. All three had decided to skip the graduation ceremony, slated for the following day, and instead be done with high school forever. Joaquin had his sandal clad feet up on the windowsill, watching as Vincent and Eddie were signing each other’s yearbooks. Eddie was in the middle of sketching a pot leaf on the inside of the back cover, when he was interrupted by David Glasser’s fart. David was the kid who hardly ever spoke a word, wore black-rimmed glasses, and had at least five large pus-filled pimples on his forehead at any given time. The class erupted in laughter, the loudest of which came from Joaquin, Vincent, and Eddie.
“That’s the best thing you’ve said all year, Dave,” Vincent joked.
Eddie was doubled over in a fit of uncontrollable laughter, and Vincent’s remark made him laugh harder, causing his sides and stomach to cramp.
“Mrs. Isley?” David asked meekly, his face turning red from the embarrassment caused by his overly sensitive digestive system. “May I be excused to use the restroom?” She nodded her head, giving Vincent, Eddie, and Joaquin a “don’t you dare say another word” kind of stare. Most of the class had stopped laughing at this point, with the exception of the three best mends, who were now laughing even harder.
“Go on now, you three,” Mrs. Isley quipped, straightening her thin wire-rimmed glasses, which continuously slipped down her narrow beak-like nose. “Go home and laugh yourselves to death for all I care.”
“Will do ma’am,” Joaquin managed to say, in between bouts of laughter. The three mends stood in front of the class and took a bow. Before stepping out of the door, Eddie pulled the other two in close. Mrs. Isley rolled her eyes at the sound of whispering and quiet laughter.
“Now for our next trick,” they said in unison. “Class of seventy-six, we leave you with this!”
Turning their backs to the class, they dropped their jeans down to their ankles, revealing stark white asses. Another round of laughter filled the class, this time with more gusto than was awarded to David Glasser’s gaseous episode. Mrs. Isley grabbed a wooden metre stick off the wall and smacked all three across their backsides.
“Go home you three,” she said, cracking a smile. “I don’t need to go blind; I’m only thirty-five.”
They pulled up their jeans and took off running out of the room and down the hallway, banging on lockers and making shrill hooting sounds.
“We’re done man! We’re finally done with the hell hole called high school!” Eddie shouted upon exciting the building. ’’No more teachers and no more bullshit homework! I knew I was never going to need algebra!”
“Hey, Vincent,” Joaquin said, rubbing the portion of his backside the metre stick had made contact with. “Did you ever get Rachel Dennis to sign your yearbook?”
“No, but she showed me her tits,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Liar!” Joaquin shouted. “Rachel Dennis is the hottest girl in school. Why would she ever show you her tits?”
Eddie rolled his eyes at the mere mention of Rachel ’ s name. He never did understand why droves of guys were attracted to her, and understood it even less coming from his own mends. “Enough about Rachel’s tits,” he remarked. “I’ve got something much, much better.”
Vincent looked at him in disbelief “Better than Rachel’s tits? What could be better than that?”
“This,” he said confidently, pulling out a sandwich bag one-quarter full of bright green weed. “Besides, you’ve never even seen Rachel’s tits, so how do you know they’re not deformed, or sagging, or ——”
“This is definitely better than Rachel’s tits,” Vincent interrupted. “She might be hot, but at least I know I can have my hands on this,” he said, referring to the weed.
“Hey Joaquin,” Eddie remarked, sounding as if he just discovered the secret of life. “Are your parents still in Florida?”
“Hell yes! Gone till next Thursday.”
“To Joaquin’s house!” Eddie announced, beginning to run across the ITont lawn of the school.
The other two followed suit, with Vincent snatching the bag of weed away ITom his mend and shoving it down the front of his pants. “When we get to Joaquin’s house, I’ve got to tell you two something,” he said, adjusting his now bulging crotch area. “It’s this urban legend. You can find out how you’ll die.”
The two looked at him like he was crazy. “Bullshit!” Joaquin laughed. “You’re so full of shit. What do you mean ’you can find out how you’ll die’?”
“Just like I said. You can find out how you’ll die. You’re not supposed to sleep for three days straight, and then you’ll hallucinate your own death. When we get to Joaquin’s, I’ll tell the whole story.”
The three walked the ten-minute walk down McAvery Drive until they reached the red brick ranch Joaquin called home. He cringed when he saw the neighbor’s toy poodle using his front yard as a toilet. It finished its business, and left behind a small, warm pile of brown medallions.
“Home, sweet, home,” Joaquin joked, brushing some hair out of his eyes. “Where poodle shit welcomes you!”
The three walked past the waist-high white picket fence, which Joaquin noticed had what looked like blood on one of the pickets. He had never noticed it before, and couldn’t understand how he had missed it.
“Hey, what are you looking at,” Eddie asked, noticing his friend’s preoccupation with the fence.
“Blood, I saw blood,” Joaquin said, now not seeing any stains at all.
“Okay, who did you kill this time?” Vincent joked, finally pulling the bag of weed out of his tight jeans. “To Joaquin and his murdering ways! I’ll smoke to that.”
“I second that motion,” Eddie chimed in.
Joaquin nodded his head, and took another look at the fence. The stain reappeared worse that it had before. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” he called out to his mends, who were nearly through the front door. He wanted to take a closer look at what exactly was on the fence. Running his fingers across the stained portion, he could feel only the fence and nothing wet at all. There were no stains on his fingertips, and when he looked at the fence again, the stains were gone.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Eddie and Vincent, shouting out of his bedroom window. Vincent held up the bag of weed and pointed to it, reminding him that it was far more important than imaginary stains on a fence. He looked at his hand again, and when he saw nothing but peachy flesh, he dismissed the stains on the fence as a hallucination.
“Hey Casanova!” Vincent shouted from the window. “Hurry the hell up!”
“Coming!” he shouted back, running into the house to join his mends for a funfilled afternoon.
Vincent had already rolled two joints by the time Joaquin had made it to his room. Eddie had turned on all five lava lamps and was busy looking for a record to play, but decided on the radio instead. A Buddy Holly song, which none of the three could remember the name to, began to play. Vincent lit up one of the joints, took a hit, and passed it to Eddie, who did the same before passing it to Joaquin.
“So you guys still want to hear that urban legend?” Vincent asked, taking one last hit off of the joint before putting it out in the bottom of a white ceramic coffee mug.
Eddie and Joaquin began to laugh uncontrollably, which caused Vincent to laugh. The three pairs of glassy eyes darted across the room, unable to focus on just one thing.
“Well do you or not?” Vincent asked again, regaining his composure.
“Sure,” Eddie managed to droll out. “Tell us your little urban legend as you call it. “
Vincent turned off the radio so that they only sound in the room would be his voice. “I heard this from a guy I bought weed ffom a week ago,” he began. “If you don’t sleep for three days, you’ll hallucinate and see how you’ll die.”
Joaquin exploded into laughter again, and rolled onto his side. “That’s bullshit, Vincent! Pure, unadulterated bullshit!”
“It is not!” Vincent said, irritation building up inside him. “Some guy in Australia or Boston or someplace tried it. He kept saying how he was going to get hit by a car. The very next day a car hit him right in front of his mailbox. Guts were allover the pavement!”
“Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!” Joaquin repeated. “That story was one of the dumbest things you’ve ever told me. It’s even more stupid than the time you shit your pants during recess in fifth grade.”
Eddie laughed, remembering the incident on the playground. “You smelled like ass for the rest of the day. I remember you had this big brown stain on the back of your jeans.”
“Fine, if you two don’t believe me, then I say we test the story out,” Vincent challenged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We could see our own death,” Joaquin said mockingly. “I hope I get my head cut off, and my feet eaten by rats. What about you, Eddie?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see Vincent go crazy and eat my face off.”
The two of them laughed, but Vincent just rolled his eyes, convinced there was some truth to the story. “Do we have a deal?” he asked.
Joaquin and Eddie agreed, still exchanging possible ways they would see themselves die. Vincent could tell it was obvious they were mocking him. All three decided to sleep until eleven that night, and then stay up for three consecutive days.
“By Monday at eleven I guess we’ll see how we are going to die,” Vincent said confidently. However, there was still a part of him that hoped his two best friends were right. Eighteen was a bit too young to witness one’s own death. Ifhe did happen to see his own demise, he hoped he would see an old man who had died in his sleep. He set the alarm on Joaquin’s clock to exactly eleven. The challenge had begun.
The sound of the constant buzzing coming from the alarm clock woke all three up out ofa deep sleep. Joaquin’s eyes darted around the room, and he almost forgot he was in his own home. Vincent and Eddie were talking loudly to each other about David Glasser, as ifboth had had a dream about him.
“Shut-up you guys,” Joaquin whispered. “You’ll wake my parents.”
The other two looked at him confused. “You’re parents aren’t even home right now, you idiot!” Eddie remarked. “Joaquin has the memory capacity of a fuckin’ stoner!”
“You’re one to talk!” he shot back.
Vincent stood up between the two, until they calmed down. Taking a seat on Joaquin’s bed, he made sure the argument was over. “Listen,” he said, sounding more like someone’s father rather than an eighteen-year-old. “If we’re going to make it through three days without sleeping I suggest we save our energy, not waste it on pointless arguments.”
“Fine, fine, fine,” Eddie huffed. “Sorry Joaquin, I just wake up in a bad mood sometimes. “
The two shook hands and forgot about the dispute. Vincent pulled the second joint he had rolled out of his back pocket and lit it up. The three passed it around until it was nearly gone, and just holding it made their thumbs and index fingers bum.
Joaquin began to dance around his room, pretending his arms were wings. “I don’t know what you put in that second joint, but 1 haven’t been this high since 1 was sixteen. “
Neither Vincent nor Eddie felt that the second joint was any better than the first, but were amused by their mend’s dance. Eddie began to clap his hands, and Joaquin danced to the beat. Vincent joined in on the clapping and began to chant “dance faster,” Joaquin danced as fast as he could until he nearly passed out. He had to lie on his back until the dizziness subsided.
“Don’t pass out on us yet,” Vincent warned. “We’ve still got a lot of time left before we start to hallucinate.”
“We should have done some acid instead,” Joaquin said, trying to catch his breath. “I could have gotten us some really good shit. You know, the kind that makes you want to fuck your mom.”
“I’d fuck your mom anyway, Joaquin,” Eddie joked.
“lfI wasn’t so tired and about ready to pass out, I’d slap you.”
Vincent’s face began to turn red, and it was obvious he was desperately trying to hold in a huge bout of laughter. “Enough about mom-fucking,” he said as his eyes watered. “But I will tell you this, even ifI had the chance to fuck Rachel Dennis, I don’t think I would. It would completely ruin the whole fantasy. I would love to see her tits, but that’s it. I mean what if she didn’t shave her muff or something like that. For all I know, she could look like a gorilla down there.”
“I’d fuck her,” Joaquin quipped. “I’d fuck her even if she had a gorilla muff and three tits.”
“You guys are so nasty,” Eddie laughed. “I’d fuck Stacy Glasser before Rachel.”
“Now you’re the nasty one,” Vincent said. “Stacy is David’s sister. The worst part is, she looks just like him, but with longer hair.”
Joaquin’s eyes lit up like he had had an epiphany. “A ha!” he said excitedly. “There you go, Vincent. Like you said before about how fucking Rachel would ruin the fantasy, and Stacy is not a fantasy so she couldn’t ruin one. You’d expect her to have these huge pimples all over her ass, and long dark hairs coming out of her nipples.
Vincent held his stomach like he was going to vomit. The thought of Stacy having ass pimples and nipple hair was more than he could handle. “Please you guys,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to think about her naked.”
One sleepless night carried on into the next. It was finally eight o’clock, Monday night. Eddie, Vincent, and Joaquin looked and felt like zombies. All three had massive dark circles under their eyes, and hardly had the energy to move. Joaquin watched helplessly as his two mends began to fall asleep. Ifhe had had the energy to stop them he would have, but he hardly had any for himself He looked on as the confines of dreamland took over his mends’ bodies and minds. Now he knew he had to stay awake. He had to prove that Vincent was wrong.
Finally, eleven o’clock arrived and Joaquin could hardly believe he had survived the challenge. “What now?” he asked himself, unsure of what to expect, if anything at all. “I knew Vincent was full of shit, like I really hallucinated my own death.”
His face felt hot and sticky, so he embarked to the bathroom to splash some cold water on it. With all the sleepless nights, he hardly recognized his own reflection. The whites of his eyes were crossed with veins, and his skin was blotchy. He stuck his face into the sink and let the water roll down it, then dried himself off. Once again, he caught his reflection in the mirror, but this time noticed that Eddie and Vincent were standing right behind him. The fronts of their T-shirts were covered in blood, their skin looked gray, and their lips were severely cracked with the blood having dried to a dark-red crust. Each had an axe wedged deep within his back, between the shoulder blades. Joaquin shook his head, wanting the image to disappear.
“Not funny,” he screeched. “I don’t need this poor excuse of a joke right now.”
His two mends did not speak, and Eddie put his finger up to his lips, making a hush motion.
“Not funny,” Joaquin repeated, this time more forcefully.
He ran out of the bathroom so quickly, he didn’t even see the wall directly in front of him. The hard impact caused him to black out.
“Joaquin! Joaquin!” Vincent said, slapping him.
He sat up abruptly, and put his arms in front of himself to keep his friends at a safe distance. They looked at him confused. He looked around even more confused. noticing that he was back in his bedroom.
“I can’t believe it.” Eddie chuckled. “You were the first to fall asleep, Joaquin.”
He looked at Eddie in disbelief “No. I wasn’t.” he said confused. “I watched you and Vincent fall asleep.”
Vincent shook his head. ’’No, we saw you fall asleep. We almost made it to eleven, thanks to your constant screaming from some nightmare you were having.”
Joaquin pondered if what he thought he saw in the bathroom was, in reality, not real at all. “I guess I must have had a dream about you two. That’s all I remember.”
“I had a dream too,” Eddie explained. “I was raped by a clown, who looked like the ice cream man I remembered from back in the day. He wore these huge shoes and was dressed in all white. Pretty scary, huh.”
Vincent didn’t remember having a dream, and assumed if he did dream, it must have not been anything great. Joaquin was still slightly shaken up by his previous visions. and excused himself to use the bathroom. He had his head over the toilet, expecting to throw up at any second. Dry heaves forced their way out, then settled down, along with his stomach. He washed his face, and once again saw his mends covered in blood, with axes in their backs. This time, the skin was peeling off of their faces, revealing the skulls underneath.
“It wasn’t a nightmare!” he screamed, before passing out.
He was awakened by the voices of Eddie and Vincent, causing his body to become paralyzed with fear. “Go away! Leave me alone!” he screamed.
“Wake-up shit face,” Vincent laughed. “I just want to know if you made it to eleven.”
When he finally was able to clearly focus on both of his mends, he saw them standing over him, and looking completely normal. Once again, he found himself in his room, but had no recollection of how he had gotten there. “What?” he asked, not yet comprehending what had been said to him. “I don’t understand. I thought I fell asleep first. That’s what I was told.”
“Huh?” Eddie questioned. “I never said anything. Right before I fell asleep, I glanced over at you. You were still awake.”
Vincent nodded his head. “I saw you awake too. It was also just before I fell asleep.”
The two looked at Joaquin curiously. He stood UP to see if any axes were stuck the backs of his friends.
“What are you doing?” Eddie asked, backing away.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just checking on something.”
“Checking what?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Vincent became increasingly curious about Joaquin’s strange behavior, and probed him for answers. “You saw something, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. What did you see, Joaquin?”
“Leave me the hell alone!” he screamed. “I had a nightmare. You and Eddie were in it. That’s all 1 remember.”
“I had a nightmare too,” Vincent began. “I was raped by a clown, who looked like the ice cream man I remembered from back in the day. He wore these huge—-”
’’No you didn’t! Eddie had that dream. He told me so.”
Eddie looked at him in disbelief. “I never had that dream. I didn’t even have a dream, so I don’t know what you’re talking about Joaquin, but—-”
“Shut-up, both of you! I’m sick of your lame jokes!”
“Maybe you should run your face under some cold water.” Vincent suggested, concerned about Joaquin’s increasingly paranoid behavior.
He took Vincent’s advice, and headed towards the bathroom. As he passed the window in the living room, he caught a glimpse of something that was out of place, in his peripheral vision. A man passed out in the front yard stopped him dead in his tracks. What he saw made his chest tighten, and breathing became nearly impossible. It was not just any man he saw outside. but rather it was himself The image of his body skewered through the chest by a picket from the fence brought him to his knees.
“Eddie! Vincent!” he called out. but received no answer.
Crawling on his hands and knees. he managed to make it back to his bedroom. - ’His mends were fast asleep, and no matter how hard he tried to wake them, they did not budge. He exhausted himself, and in doing so, passed out next to Vincent.
Eddie and Vincent woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, with the challenge of staving awake for three days already behind them like a distant memory. Both looked over at Joaquin, who now lay on his back in his bed. Eddie tried to scream,“ but could not force the sound out. Vincent thought Joaquin was playing a joke, until he felt the cold and lifeless body. The sheets were soaked in blood, and through the middle of Joaquin’s chest was a piece of the white picket fence.
“Who did this!” Vincent panicked. “We have to call for help!”
“Help?” Eddie whispered, rocking back and forth in the fetal position. “Who can help him? He’s dead. Every single piece of him is dead. Dead. Dead, Dead.”
Vincent left Eddie, and ran into the kitchen to use the phone. He dialed the Romeo Police Department.
“Romeo Police Department,” a young woman’s voice answered.
“Police!” Vincent screamed into the receiver. “There’s been a murder at three-seventy-five McAvery Drive! Send help!” He slammed the phone down before he could receive a response.
Ten minutes later there was a knock on the door. “Police!” a man’s deep voice shouted. There was no answer.
The two officers standing outside waited a few seconds, then turned the doorknob The house was dead quiet, and it did not appear as though a murder had taken place.
“This is the address isn’t it?” one of the officers asked, scratching his bald head.
“Three-seventy-five McAvery Drive,” the other one responded.
Both walked straight into Joaquin’s bedroom. “Charlie, call the coroner. This is one hell of a mess. You know, it’s deaths like these that start those damn urban legends ,kids like to tell.”
Joaquin’s body still laid lifeless, skewered through the middle. Eddie and Vincent were sprawled out on the floor. Each had an axe buried deep within his back, right between the shoulder blades. The Buddy Holly song none had known the name to played on the radio.
