Habitats and Cages
Addiction: Consecutive Substack Story 1211
The newspaper was laid across Trombone’s lap like it was protecting his pants from rain, though there was none.
He shook his head back and forth, more a sway than a shake. Trombone looked sad.
“Someone die?”
The person asking was Drumstick Mike.
Trombone got the nickname Trombone from playing the Trombone his whole life.
Drumstick Mike got his nickname from busting into a refrigerated truck in Hamtramck one time, and selling bags of frozen drumsticks.
“Someone probably died, but no one specific,” Trombone said.
He saw that Drumstick Mike was pondering that statement.
“This paper don’t have ‘bituaries innit, Trombone said. “It’s just the free one they give out at the barber shop. Community shit.”
“You looking at it awful serious.”
Trombone handed the paper to Drumstick Mike and tapped the picture.
He wasn’t sure Drumstick Mike could read.
“Five million dollar zoo renovation starts today.”
“Yeah, I see that. Says that right here.
Trombone smiled.
“B Dewey and New Years ran over there after I showed ‘em this paper,” Trombone said.
He leaned and tapped the photo again, a semi-circle of large decorative rocks bordering the ostrich and camel habitat.
Next to it was a drawing of what the zoo would look like after the renovation.
“Why they excited to watch a damn renovation…wait…New Years think he can get hired on the spot, right? Errytime that scarecrow lookin’ fool see a construction site he’s askin’ for a job.”
Trombone shook his head, laughing, but looking far, far away like he saw a UFO.
“Why’d they go over there, then?”
Trombone brought his eyes back to earth, and locked in on Drumstick Mike.
“How many days clean you got?”
“Fuck that got to do with anything?”
“Nevermind.”
“I’m doing good, Bone. I am.”
The two men sat silent for a while, except for the sound of Trombone spitting between his teeth.
Drumstick Mike read the article.
Nothing particularly interesting to him.
Out of nowhere he whistled, a long bending whistle.
“Wait, whoa, them big ass rocks in the picture. That’s where Zeke Dewey supposed to stash like a quarter ki?”
Trombone looked sadder than he had when Drumstick Mike walked up.
“Yep. That’s them.”
“B Dewey said Zeke was so high he forgot which rock.”
“Yeah, didn’t help that he got pigged that night and picked himself up a closed head injury in a fight in Dickerson.”
“So B Dewey and New Years think that Yay is still there? What was that, twelve years ago?”
“Something like that. B Dewey feels like it’s his family right to own it. New Years, well…you know.”
“That’s a lotta powder, man.” Now Drumstick Mike was staring off into space.
“I used to think about it sometimes.”Trombone said. “Kind of ashamed to say that. But I did. Then I kinda thought them peacocks that roam the zoo probably got into it. I used to laugh at that.”
Trombone did laugh now, deeply.
He looked at Drumstick Mike. “Can you imagine that? Bunch a peacocks struttin’ around high as fuck, Gobblin’, or whatever peacocks do, and spreading their feathers? Can you imagine?
Drumstick Mike looked at the ground.
“Yeah Bone.” Drumstick Mike looked up. “I did imagine that. I did imagine it. Hunnerds of times. A peacock with a dick. Struttin around, high as fuck.”
Then quietly, to the ground, he said “I hope they don’t find that shit.”
He blew air from his head that he didn’t know he was holding in.
“But…I guess I hope they do.”
Trombone swung his leg around, tapped Drumstick Mike with the side of his shoe.
“How many days clean you got?”
“Ummm…shit…twenty two…except Thursday.”
Trombone scowled.
“Except Thursday? That ain’t how it works.”
Staring off again, Drumstick Mike said “that’s a lotta powder…”
Trombone hoped that B Dewey and New Years would come back empty handed.
Then he realized that if they weren’t empty handed, they weren’t coming back.
He closed his eyes, thought about peacocks, and reminded himself to remember that Drumstick Mike can read.
***
Any financial appreciation is always appreciated. I know many of you pay for this anyway and I’m honored by your continued support.
or Venmo James-Graham-80
It ain't easy.
Don't get lost in the cheat.
The old life was hard.
The new life is hard in a new way.
But we need no longer to walk alone.
It's never worth going back.
We may long for it.
We may even wish for it.
But it's a lie.
The new life is better.
And tomorrow will be another day.
TIL 51 slang words for those drugs you don’t get in the pharmacy and