Saturday, June 4, 2011

The past three days.

I probably should've written about everything as soon as it happened. I guess my first instinct isn't always to run straight to the computer when bad things happen. I'm calm enough and aware enough now to go over it all in my head. So I will.

We had the senior banquet. Dave drove me and I left my car at Sid's. Well, near Sid's. There's a nice circle full of abandoned buildings that we leave our cars in when Sid's not supposed to have people over. I had to sleep there one time.


The banquet had good food, and a dj. Dave and Sid had smoked a blunt in the car and I think it got me a little stoned. Maybe not, but I was feeling out of it at the banquet. And Dave's girlfriend looked beautiful. I had a crush on her, before she was Dave's girlfriend. I danced with her. I don't think Dave saw. I don't think Dave saw that time.

I had the dj dedicate a song to her. That was stupid. Dancing with her was one thing, but this was just undeniably fucking stupid. It was her favorite song. Dave's girlfriend thought Dave had dedicated the song to her. They'd been having a fight, and it seemed like the most perfectly goddamn adorable thing for him to do to try and reconcile with her. She cried.

I didn't even think of that. I didn't even think of her assuming that. I don't know how. Of course she would assume it was Dave.

Dave realized it was me. I don't know how. He asked to talk to me outside. Not in an angry way. He was serious, but he didn't seem mad, I remember that.

What I don't remember is what happened outside the banquet hall. The last thing I remember is following Dave through the door and staring at his stupid cowboy boots and reaching into my pocket.

I know I should remember. But I can't figure out if I blacked out or not. I didn't lose time. At least, I don't remember losing time. I didn't blink and find myself inside. I just can't remember. I've been trying to think of what me and Dave talked about for two days and I know something happened, the details are just beyond me. They're like a dream that slipped away upon wakening.

So I can't remember shit. Nothing new there. What bothers me is the last thing I do remember: reaching into my pocket. Sid's gift was in my pocket.

The thing he got from his brother. The knife.

Dave must've gone home or something after that because I haven't seen him since.

I asked his girlfriend to drive me to my car while we were dancing. I was too honest with her on the ride home, I don't think she appreciated it. I drove myself home and stayed up all night watching public access channels and smoking cigarettes my dad thought I didn't know he had.


I slept fine, but I was exhausted in the morning for some reason. I had to go to senior's last assembly and give a speech. I wrote it that morning. It went well. I got more applause than I expected to. Everyone told me I did well.

It was a good day, actually. I was just kind of surprised Dave wasn't there.

No one wanted to hang out after the assembly. Alex had a date with Sabrina, Sid had to have his septic tank pumped or something. So I went home, took more of my pain medication than I should have and drank my dad's beer. I knew he'd notice, but I didn't care.

Dad called around five, said he had to work late that night. Shouldn't wait up for him, order some Chinese.

I should note: beer and Chinese food do not mix well. As I was tossing some of the empties into our big bag in the basement, I puked a small stream of pisswarm Coors Light onto the aluminum. As I was wiping my mouth I noticed my cat staring at me from the corner of the room. My cat's name is George.

George's eyes flash like motherfuckers in the dark. They usually flash green, though, because his eyes are green. They were flashing blue now though, a bright piercing blue.

"George, what's up."

George meows a lot. It's like having a conversation with Chewbacca or something.

He didn't meow, though. He lumbered over all fat and black and shook his head at me. He shook his head like a person signing "no". Just like a person. I reeled back and tried to ignore the way he was looking at me. The way his eyes seemed older than mankind. Predatory.

I tried to play it off cool. "You're a fatass, George."

And then the cat opened his mouth and fucking spoke to me.

I wish I was kidding.

His voice was like Patrick Stewart crossfaded with Treebeard: "You are mistaken."

I admit, in hindsight I really wish I had decided to say something rational and ask a question or something. A conversation with my cat might have been enlightening at this point. But I didn't.

I screamed and ran out of there. I spent all night in the closet with a comforter around my shoulders and my rifle in my hands. I haven't seen George yet. I am not sure if I will speak to him when I do see him, or if I will shoot him.


I haven't spoken to my dad yet. I haven't even been awake at the same time as him since Wednesday. I don't know what to tell him. Or where to start. I spent all day driving around aimlessly in Worcester, stopping in diners and banks, and then spent the evening sitting on the goddamn computer. I was watching some weird videogame webcast earlier that got interrupted by some old trippy video and the audio cut out. That's been the extent of the excitement.

It's 1:33 AM now. Its technically Sunday, I guess.

I graduate from high school later today.

I have to give a speech there too.

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