Willy Shakes

		Some Bullshit everyone deals with by saying I made it up				Willi ShakesThe brightness of the world is dulled to gray when you see it all the time. Tuxedo cat wandered up lazily, and flopped up on to my lap. Stuck while sitting in a lawn chair, feet and legs extended out onto a pillferd barstool, I sat smoking a cigarette while petting a cat I didn't own.  Hold on a second. In the sake of good socialharmony I have to go make coffee. Or else they'll come down on me twice as hard for some shit. After walking into the kitchen I decided not to make coffee. Fucking old derrick hand cletus was talking shit again because he couldn't figure out how a router works. Like it was my fault. Hah. It was for downloading some shitty gay book but I wouldn't have told anyone that. I'm banned from the library for giving a really expensive book I took out on loan to a microbiologist that I met on the plane all just because I got him talking about weaponizing clouds and making them rain acidic goop. It could be done he said. You'd just have to bioengineer the right type of bacterria. Totally worth the first edition of Tales of an English Opium Eater I had on loan from Ball State. I was moving back to California anyways and didn't have the money to return it by post or the balls to show up at the regular public with it. The cat reached out and pawed at my stomach playfully. He wanted pets. I obliged him some pets as I pulled out a smoke, crushed the ball, and lit it. My friend Jason came out and bummed a smoke off of me for a change. Conitiously broke be I. Arrr. His wife had called to harrass him for money he didn't have. He'd messed up his back working two jobs at the same time just to keep up with Child Support, rent, and the like. All you uppity shit heads out there will be thinking "Why don't they quit. They could use the money" the reality of it is that smoking was pretty cheap at the time and it's hard to quit a death wish when your life is so far down in a dumpster that the rats can't peirce the swampy murk. Every coffin nail making me just a little close to the eventual goal of us all. Gotta have something. Jason and I complain about how his ex is a total cunt of a raging feminazi. She'd said on the phone, while in the car with their middle schooler driving back to her place, that she was holding him ransom and that ransom was more childsupport. Jason wanted to do something about it I. I suggested that I would kill her for free just so we could hangout with his kid and get back to playing minecraft together and talking about fat women's asses. He said well that just might work while staring at the underside of the condo deck above him. We both knew they'd never catch me or I'd die in the escape. Nothing to lose but another dead bum on the streets of the LA megaopolis. I suggested we eat before the planning. My mother had dropped by and handed me a 20 through her rolled up bronco window before calling me a loser and speeding off through the Lowe's parkinglot. I just vomitted from the anxiety caused by the sheer anticipation of just seeing her moments before she got there. Said I'd make a McDonalds run and get us some breakfast before it closed.  He was down. I transfered the sleepy cat onto Jason's lap. The rightful throne for the beast. Had to get up from writing to piss. Noticed they're finally redoing my aunt's neighbors roof after months of the neighbor talking about. He's an old Vet in a wheelchair that owns 6 cars himself. All of them econoboxes. I've only ever seen him drive his small truck though. Hopping into the cab with sheer arm strength straight from the chair. It's amazing what people can overcome when hard pressed. I notice through the same window that my Aunt's working on her new fountain. Digging muddy rocks from the ground to toss into the clear water basin at the end of the waterfall. Muddying the waters even more with every rock tocover the decreasingly visible bottom. I exit the bathroom, through the laundry room, into the kitchen and out the back door. Asking her, when I get close enough, if I could bum a smoke. She says sure. The lady with brain anyuserisms saying she needs one too. We both make our way inside and a sharp right into her bedroom. She passes me a smoke while putting one in the mouth herself and we both lit up. Deep inhale, deep exhale. I thank her and walk through the kitchen back into the dining room, with Cleetus watching me the whole time through a mirror mounted over the TV in the living room, and plop down into my chair at my desk next to my cot. Walking through the sliding glass door on the porch I grab  my helmet, my gloves, and my jacket. Assembling my outfit I ask Jason if he wants McMuffins and hashbrowns per usual. He  looks at me and laughs. You better pick me up a pack of smokes too. You owe me at least 7 now. Don't worry Jason. I rarely forget what I owe. Finsihing my cigarette I walk out the front door and down the path towards the car ports. Fishing my keys out I look for where I parked my moped. It's a Honda Urban Express Iowa, a rare peice of trash made only for a year, that I dug out of a friends rat infested backyard in payment for landscaping since he couldn't pay me. Spent almost a month fixing her up at my friend Cameron's house. He helped me more than anyone could. I get the keys in the ignition and turn the gas valve on while baking her out from under the port and in the middle of the drive way for the condos I mount my 49cc steed.Kick start. She purrs like the happiest cat I left on Jason's lap. Black, with red and silver lines. I take a last drag of my smoke and flick it towards the dumpster. It lands in the goop with a wet smack. Revving up the throttle and I shoot out of the driveway for the complex totally blind of traffic. No ones there so I am free. I cut across the nearby abandoned reform highschool. The lone security guard sees me but she's too busy smoking in her car and they don't pay her enough. Getting on the road I almost get smasshed down by a lifted truck. My bike being so small they could barely see me if they wanted to. Still I spit on their door when we both make the stop and the lady in the passenger seat notices just as I peel out in a hard right. I'm already a mile away by the time they react. Their cries drownd out by the winds. The college neighborhood is full of windy oak lined back streets. Doing snakes and S turns the whole way connecting a route from the reform highschool to the regular one while avoiding the main road that passes the college entirely. A perfect road for one riding an unregistered bike without a licsense. I don't care that I'm not the fastest bike on the road. It's the fastest I've ever been. I go no hands and scream in pleasure at life. It's continually a wonder to me. I can't go through the drive through on a bike. They don't know how to trust a biker. I hitch my baby up to some railing and walk in the hellhole. There's the usualy lot of boomers sitting on their plastic benches complaining about whats on the McChannel and the paper while drinking free coffee from the promotion they have going on. The only real thing I hear from them is that more people died in Iraq. Everything is beeping in the back. What a waste it all is. Approaching the counter I lay down my demands for sandwhiches and hashbrowns. I exchange the money for the change and a number. The drive through's full so it's going to be a moment. My hands are hurting and I'm shaking so I have to get up and calm myself. Writing is taking a toll. My shoulders hurt and I have to piss again. No one's in the backyard when I peer through the window, but the dog stares at me like I don't belong. I move into the kitchen and fill the kettle. Cleetus comes out from my Aunt's room and retrieves something from the living room. I yawn as he passes back towards my Aunt's room. What did you say punk? He blurts it at me in his fake growl. I pull an ear plug out like I didn't hear him. What? What did you say? I yawned. He's obviously trying to start shit so he can beat my ass and get me thrown out of here. He retreats into my Aunt's room and I left out a laugh as the door slams. Putting my ear plug back in I move back into the dining room and sit to type while the waters heating. It's all just so much at once I feel faint. Pretty sure the ear infection or the flu or whatever it is I have is on the retreat, but it's still kicking my ass one way or another. The water's boiling so I head back into the kitchen and fill up my cup-a-noodle just as Cleetus plops down on his spot on the couch and turns the news up to a blaring level that I can slightly hear through my ear plugs. I titter to myself at his pathetic attempts to rile me. and move back to the dining room with my cup. My background is a picture of one of my friends vomiting into a parkinglot. I look up at the number board waiting for my McSandwhiches. Still 10 behind. I exit the building and cross the parkinglot towards the smoke shop I've been buying from since 16. The same little Korean lady that I've seen for the past decade greets me, and asks me Usual?. I nod and smile at her. She's so nice even though she works 14 hour days. I hand her $5.56 exact and she hands me the small black and blue box. I pack it, and then tear off the cellophane as I walk ou of the store. Waving back hand to her as I start across the baking black tar parkinglot of a Southern California summer. I light up a smoke and peer through the window at the number counter. Still 5 numbers away. For some reason I still have the reciet for the sandwhiches from that day in my wallet 3 years on. It haunts me as a cold fall aproaches. I notice a flock of pidegons sitting on a telephone line across the street are grooming eachother and wonder what it's like. The cigarette burns down to my knuckle as I stare in awe of simple mutal care. I yelp and the filter burns a scar onto my finger in the same place as hundereds of others. Tossing the cigarette I spit onto the giant monument to the fat dead, and walk in the door as my number gets called. 86, is there an 86? Yes mam, right here. Thanks. Extra ketchup please. I exit the store and shove the greasy sack into my biggest pocket of my jacket buttoning it tight. The ride never seems to end, until it does and I'm back on the condo porch dishing out my prizes and spilting them between Jason and I. So should I hit her with a pipe from the back of my moped? Where does she live? How does she get to work? When? Where? God, why do you let your son deal with her bullshit. I would've killed her years ago if I were you. Jason quiets down at this point and strokes the furry beast that's remained on top of his palace of hardship in life. I break out the pipe and we both light up. The mood changes from dark to somber as we sit and enjoy a silence. Listening to the freeway's distant sounds like the surf of the ocean of life				       They all Hate me