The pillow was kinda scratchy and a hideous orange.
Logan looked around the room, knew without looking he was out of smokes.
There was a picture of The Last Supper on the wall.
He was on a sofa.
How do I even know that’s the Last Supper?
It smelled flowery.
He wanted it to smell smoky.
He wanted whoever else had crashed at the party to bum him a smoke.
No one was on the floor.
He pulled his eyes open.
The house was immaculate.
More religious stuff on the walls.
“Praise the Lord, you’re awake.”
“Whoa. Who are you? “ Logan asked. It sounded like a vague accusation, that the person speaking didn’t belong there.
“I’m Chuck. I live here. “
Logan looked around again.
“I’m Logan.”
There was a bible passage framed on the wall. Even if he wanted to read it, he couldn’t focus.
He felt vaguely still high from mushrooms. The last cap was probably too much.
Cinnamon whiskey started to climb up his throat, like himself on a rope in gym class in 4th grade.
“How was Slipknot?”Chuck asked.
“They were cool...wait, how the fuck you know about Slipknot?”
‘I’ve lived down the street from that amphitheater for 20 years. I make it a point to know what musicians perform there.”
“How’d you know I was there?”
“Your eyebrow is pierced, you have a chain wallet and a Pantera t-shirt on. It was a wild guess. Plus I know all my neighbors and none of them walk into my house randomly, drunk and high.”
“Sorry dude.”
“It’s cool. I’m glad you came in and didn’t pass out on the street. I don’t suppose you’d like to go to church with me?”
Logan stared at Chuck.
He was too hungover to think of anything witty to say. It was too creepy. From the wall, a very graphic crucified Jesus was staring at him.
Logan bolted for the open screen door and ran left,
He didn’t know which way he was going or where he was going.
Chuck stood, kind of shocked that a tough-looking kid was so eager to run.
A baggie poked out from between the couch cushions.
Chuck picked it up.
Magic Mushrooms? What else could it be?
Chuck certainly didn’t want them, but he didn’t want Logan to come back looking for them. He could flush them, but then Logan might be really mad.
He picked them the bag of mushrooms and ran out the door.
“Logan, wait!”
The kid was doing a slow jog down the gravel shoulder of Sashabaw Rd.
It was dangerous even in the daylight, people speeding, talking on their phones.
Chuck broke into a steady jog, faster than a jog.
“Logan!”
Chuck held up the baggy of mushrooms for Logan to see, but the kid put his head down and sprinted.
Chuck figured that the hangover and the heavy boots would slow him down very quickly.
He ran faster, holding the baggie aloft.
“Logan wait! Your-”
A car whistled around the curve east of 75.
Logan jumped to the side and tumbled into the drainage ditch.
The car passed Chuck. It was followed by an Oakland County Sheriff.
Chuck froze as the Sheriff passed.
He could almost feel the heat of the red brake lights, and he could definitely hear the squeal of the tires as the Sheriff pulled a U-turn.
***
Photo by Senad Palic on Unsplash
This one made a movie in my head, a good one!
Your timing sucks, son!