Pilgrimage for Ecstasy

Prelude

It was a cold night and a December moon was the only thing in the clear Kansas sky. It was a Friday night, and I had finished my last day of school before the holiday break, which left me in high spirits. Christmas vacation had officially begun and I was left alone at home in a darkening room accompanied by a vintage episode of WKRP. The plans of what to do for the rest of that evening fell heavy on my mind, and I left them there to think rather than decide. Those plans were unsettled until my crazy uncle called to tell me that he was throwing a Christmas party and that if I didn’t show up someone would come looking for me. So I threw on my leather jacket and headed down the road in my black and gold Trans Am.

With it was almost Christmas time, the smell of pine trees was replaced with the heavy aroma of hard liquor, cannabis exhaust, and assorted scents of women’s perfume drifting through Uncle Eddy’s party house. Uncle Eddy was notorious for throwing hellacious parties for any reason whatsoever, but he was always famous for throwing his Christmas party. Eddy had just finished working first shift at H & F Welding, where as you might guess, he welded stuff. He was thirty-six at the time, and I was seventeen stuck in the web of my junior year of high school.

Eddy’s party house was actually the house that he used to live in before he and my aunt decided to build a new house. He could fit almost a hundred people in his party house, which is the reason why his party house had second rate furniture. It was adequate for spilling beer, vomit, or any other bodily fluid that may happen to fly onto it. And the walls would never be repaired until there was another buy one get one free sale at the drywall supply store.

I was looking forward to Eddy’s Christmas party because it was the first one that I had voluntarily attended. Other times I had just stopped by early, left a little later, and missed all of the good things. But that particular year has since been noted as the most memorable party of Edward’s party career and let’s just say I was there.

Edward, as he was known to some, and I always got along. I’d known him for as long as I could remember. We used to hang out back in a corner at family outings and crack jokes or talk about women. That was when I was in kindergarten. And I can always remember him being the center of attention, making things happen on the spur of the moment, and finding crazy things to do. The crazier it was and the more it risked his physical condition, the more he wanted to do it. That was the way he always was.

It was merely eight o’clock that evening by the time I had driven the fifteen miles or better to my uncle’s secluded party ranch. He and my Aunt Sari lived in one house on their multi acre plot, and an acre or two behind that house sat an old beat up modular home, which was his party house.

I pulled into the driveway and gently cruised down the rocky road, through a thick of trees, and downhill a piece to the gathering ahead. I found a place to park, if you could call it that, and tried to find my uncle. It was still early for the night, and there were close to sixty people running around the place. Music was blaring from inside the house and it got louder as I slowly walked towards it. I walked on, past many suspecting eyes, which made me feel out of place until I walked inside the party house and literally ran into my Uncle Eddy. He greeted me in his usual attire of black jeans, that had been unwashed and possibly unchanged for the entire workweek, and a colorful Iron Maiden T-shirt.

Holy shit! Bry! He yelled. Nice to see ya! How’s your great-aunt?

I wouldn’t know. I replied honestly with a shrug.

Aunt Sari, who would be my aunt by blood, was out of town. She said it was to be with family, but Ed knew something was not right with her reason after my reply.

Sari told me that the whole family was going to St. Louis to see her great-aunt. Maybe you didn’t hear about it.

Great-aunts in my family don’t even know my name. I’m just my mom or dad’s son.

Say, I got someone I want you to meet, if I can remember who the hell it was. While he was running through his memory like a child lost in the woods, I started panning the scenery. I checked out the horse trough full of ice with many kegs of beer and many more bottles of beer scattered through the ice. A pyramid of whisky bottles held a shrine of attention atop the kitchen counter where a small group of people had gathered to toast and hammer down a few shots.

Hey, my uncle grabbed my attention with an elbow to the ribs. I need to see this dude over here, she’s gonna keep you company. He said in reference to the skinny brunette girl that was standing next to me. She tried to introduce herself, but Ozzy Osbourne’s Bark At The Moon was cranked just a little too loud to communicate, so she motioned that we step outside. We walked away from the party house towards a wall of firewood stacked neck high.

The girl’s name was Joan, she was twenty years old and was a receptionist down at where my uncle worked. She had barely got that much out when someone walked up to her and asked if she had anything to sell.

Yes I do, but it’s not on me.

Well, I’ll wait. The guy insisted.

Okay, give me a couple of minutes. Joan replied. Wanna go for a ride?

I agreed to ride with her wherever she was going for whatever she was getting, but her car had been parked in by someone’s monster jeep and it would’ve taken all night to find whoever it belonged to. My car, on the other hand, was easy to get to and easy to get out. So, I agreed to drive her back to her house to get whatever it was she needed.

This is a nice car. She admitted as we cruised up the hill and through the trees.

Thanks. I replied. It took me a couple of years to get it like this.

Isn’t this the same car that was in that Bandit movie?

Yes, exactly. Everything from the seats to the motor.

We made more small talk as we drove to a small farm town up the road to her house. She pointed my course out for me and as we pulled up to her place I dropped a gear and smoked the tires around the corner to a screaming stop next to the curb in front of her house.

Keep it running. I won’t be a minute. She demanded then ran across the front lawn and into the house. I had been a little too preoccupied watching her leave to notice the car that had pulled up behind me. And then the lights came on. Those blue, red, and yellow strobe lights that come on only when there’s a cop around started flashing at me in the rear view mirror.

Oh, shit. I muttered to myself as I slowly rolled the window down in time to meet the officer that approached me.

Yes? I asked innocently.

Can I see your license and registration? The so far polite lady cop demanded through a requesting voice.

What seems to be the problem? I asked her.

One of your taillights is burnt out. She informed me.

I obliged and gave her the information she wanted, and she disappeared to her patrol car that seemed to have popped up from nowhere. I looked towards Joan’s house and saw her coming out the front door. If she had what I thought she had on her, we were both going to be in some serious trouble. But it was too late; she had joyfully bounced her way to the curb before I could warn her. All I could do was take a deep breath and hope that the higher powers could sense my distress. I knew for a fact that there wasn’t a problem with my taillights.

What’s the problem? Joan breathlessly asked as she jumped back into the car.

I don’t know. Lady says I’ve got a burnt out taillight.

Oh, well. Just play it cool and we’ll be okay. Joan optimistically advised me.

I hope you’re right. I admitted as I watched the officer walk back to my window.

Sir, would you please step out of the car? She asked.

Why? I asked.

Just step out of the car. She demanded. I opened the door and confronted her. I’m going to let you go this time. But, you really need to watch your driving. I’ve got a lot of complaints from other towns around here about your driving. I could nail you with reckless driving, but I don’t really want to.

Okay. I replied.

If I ever catch you sliding that car sideways through my streets again, I’ll lock you up. Understand?

Yes. I nodded with guilt.

Slow it down from now on. She advised while returning my license. I got back into my car and took a giant breath of relief.

What was that all about? Joan asked.

Huh? I replied.

How much is your ticket?

Didn’t get one. I replied through a deep breath. I was lucky, she was going to nail me with reckless driving.

I started my car and waited for the lady cop to pass us by; once she did I sat still and waited for her to get completely out of my sight.

Back to Eddy’s? I suggested.

Yeah probably, Joan replied then abruptly paused to survey a hot rod pick up that was screeching to a stop next to us. Oh, no!

Joni! A guy yelled from the passenger side of the packed truck.

Just go. She demanded nervously.

I eased away from the curb and tried to merge my way onto the street but the guy driving the hot rod truck wasn’t letting me. What the fuck? I asked in reference to two things.

Just punch it!

I wanted to punch it, but a car parked in front of us kept me from doing it. The guys in the truck stopped next to us and the guy that wanted to talk to Joan opened the door of his truck. Before he could get out I was rendering a new route through Joan’s front yard, and her neighbor’s and their neighbor’s. By the time I hopped over the curb three houses down, the guys in the yellow hot rod truck were turned around and gaining on us.

Who is this guy? I asked her.

Some guy. She replied.

What does he want? Why won’t you just talk to him?

He’s drunk and I don’t like him. Just never mind that shit and get rid of him.

I didn’t want to pursue anymore reasons so I let my foot down on the gas and sped away from the yellow truck. Until they sped up and rode my bumper for a few blocks. I cut through an alley and tore sand in their headlights as I raced up the dark alley filled with garbage cans and stray cats. When the alley came to an end I slid back onto pavement and left a smoke trail up the street only to turn again and make a complete circle out of the whole path. With the truck almost a block away from us I worked my way back to the road that would lead us back towards Eddy’s place. Just when I thought we were on our way, the yellow truck shot through the intersection ahead of us and tried to block the way. I cut the most picture perfect U-turn possible and changed direction only to have them give chase once again.

I sped and left rubber everywhere and made my way to Main Street, which would lead us out of town and back to my uncle’s. It was a four-lane street for over a mile, then it shrank down to two lanes as it went out of town. I knew that if I could make it to the edge of the city limits from there I could get up to over a hundred, that would surely lose them, getting there was the challenge. As we passed a local gas station the yellow truck sped up and got in the right lane and pulled up to us. I was doing the speed limit and behaving myself until I saw an empty beer bottle fly across my hood. Then it became personal. I pounded my foot down on the accelerator and watched the speedometer fly from thirty to eighty-five in nothing flat.

Shit! Dude! Joan screamed frantically.

What?

Cop! She informed me.

I looked up into my rear view mirror and saw those blue, red, and yellow strobe lights dancing in my face again. A ball of guilt riddled anxiety rose in the pit of my stomach as that cop car raced out into the street. I looked up again and noticed the car wasn’t after me. The cops had pulled over the yellow hot rod pick up.

We cruised down the highway, back down the rocky road down the hill to Eddy’s party ranch. By then it was almost ten-thirty on what was still a Friday night. I figured that Eddy had done something crazy, which he was notorious for doing, and that the party was basically washed up by then. But, I was wrong. There were still close to fifty people there, and a group of ambitious guitarists had started an acoustical jam session on the porch. We walked past them and stepped into the house. Joan detoured to the booze counter for a shot glass and a couple of beers. She offered me one, but I didn’t need one.

What’s wrong? Don’t you drink? She asked.

Not really, no thank you.

Fine, she agreed. I’ll drink it then.

She wandered away, to find something or someone to open her bottle of beer, leaving me in the middle of the room. I looked around the scene for my uncle but he apparently was not around for the moment. I grabbed a glass from the bar and poured some Coke in it and patiently bided my time. So, there I was, with my Coke, listening to AC/DC blasting at unhealthy decibels when a very attractive woman who looked to be in her thirties approached me.

Got any Heineken over there? She asked blankly through a glassy stare.

Uh, I paused, turned around and found her a bottle of Heineken. I punched the top off the bottle on the edge of the trough and handed her the fizzing bottle. Here you go.

Thank you Mr. Bartender. She said with a moody smile that gave me a chill and the need to sit down for a couple of minutes.

Yeah, I waved politely. No problem.

You Bryan? Some disheveled man asked.

Who wants to know? I replied.

Your uncle needs you.

Where the hell is he anyway? I’ve been looking all over for him.

I left the kitchen and wandered outside to catch Eddy walking across the roof of the party house. Among most of the questions stirring from the crowd of minds that had gathered around, most of them were based along the lines of what the hell is he doing?

Hey man! He yelled down at me.

What’s goin’ on? I asked him.

I need some help!

What do you need? I yelled back but he had since wandered his way over the peak of the roof and was out of sight.

So I went back inside and noticed a crowd had gathered in the living room. I joined the patient crowd, all standing still; looking up at the roof like something important was going to happen. Then, the low growl of a chainsaw starting sent everyone three feet away from where we had been standing. I stood in absolute awe as a rain of sawdust came down from a circular pattern that Eddy was cutting away from the roof. I couldn’t say anything; I didn’t know what to think. This was on the brink of legendary. What else was there to say?

Within seconds, Eddy had taken his Eager Beaver chainsaw, which he considered to be my cousin, and chewed a hole through the roof of the party house. When the hole was finished he brought the chainsaw to a smoky halt and started walking back across the roof of the party house.

What’s this all about? I asked Eddy as he came down from the roof, using the roof of someone’s car as a landing cushion.

Hey, man. Where ya been? I’ve been looking all over for ya.

What’s the hole for?

Come on man, ain’t you been watching all the dirty movies on TV?

The hole in the roof, man. I corrected him.

Oh, well, you see, some of the women are getting kind of cold. So, I thought that maybe the two of us would build them a little fire. I’m trying to be a hospitable host, wouldn’t you say?

Well, you’ve got a chimney, where’s your fireplace?

That’s what you’re for.

You gonna set me on fire? I asked him.

Nah, man. Your aunt would kill me. He replied with a smoky sawdust induced chuckle. Follow me, there’s an old cast iron tub from the bathroom out by the woodpile.

I was actually in the process of helping Eddy create a stunt. One that he usually took full control of, but this was a special stunt, one that actually required my help. Some people recall special times from their childhood, like a young boy that got to help his father in the garage or a girl that helped her mom bake a cake. Those are the standard memories that people have come to find as average. I knew I wasn’t part of the average crowd, and I appreciated it.

Okay, man. Eddy said through a puff of smoke from his cigarette.

Pretty light for being cast iron. I admitted as I lifted up my end of the bathtub.

It might not be cast iron, maybe it’s just plain old metal. He honestly suggested. Sit your end down, let’s fill it up with wood first. That way we’ll save a thousand some odd trips back out here to get wood.

Eddy took his last thirty pieces of firewood and stacked them inside the tub. From there, we proceeded to haul that heavy bastard into the house. We positioned the tub directly under the hole that Eddy had cut through the roof, then Eddy ran out to his truck and brought in two five gallon buckets of gasoline and emptied both of them onto the wood. He struck a match, threw it on the pile and was nearly blown off of his feet by the blast that sent flames in the air to lick at the hole he’d cut.

Whew! All right! We’re havin’ a barbecue! He screamed, then patted me on the back. Rock and roll man!

He then staggered his way through the crowd, completely unaware that part of his shoulder had gas spilled on it and had ignited when he lit the fire. Some guy from the party walked up to him and started slapping him on the shoulder to put the flame out.

What the-? You want your ass kicked son of a bitch?

Man, your shirt’s on fire! The guy helplessly said in his own defense.

What? Eddy asked in shock trying to peek around his own shoulder to see a bare hole burnt through the back of his Iron Maiden shirt. Man, shit! This is my favorite shirt!

The night wore on and on and on into three o’clock Saturday morning. The group of fifty or more people had eroded to a loose gathering of eleven people or so. Most of those people had locked themselves in the three bedrooms or even bathrooms to take advantage of privacy for intimate moments. The other five of us had surrounded the coffee table in the living room only feet from the homemade fireplace. Eddy was sitting next to some gorgeous young blonde girl, who was sitting next to a guy that looked like he was in his forties. He was sitting next to the black clad Heineken woman in her thirties who sat across the table from me. They were enhancing the experience of the morning life with a four-hosed hookah.

Hey, man. The guy in his forties announced as he stood up to wearily shake Eddy’s hand. I gotta roll man. My ol’ lady’s probably having a shit fit right now.

Well damn, man. Thanks for coming. Don’t forget about New Year’s, buddy. You be careful now. Eddy replied. You sure you can drive alright?

Yeah, I’m fine. The guy replied. That goddamn hookah is killing me. He admitted as he left with a drag from his cigarette.

What time is it anyway? I asked Eddy.

Oh, he said through a long moan, about three-thirty. Why? Supposed to be home at eleven?

Nah. I replied.

Your folks would shit if they knew where you’ve been all night wouldn’t they? He asked.

Maybe. Maybe not.

Nah. He added honestly. They’re cool.

Do you know him? The attractive woman in black asked Eddy.

Yeah, we’re related. He chuckled. He’s my nephew.

You’re his nephew, huh? She asked with a smile. About that time the blonde girl whispered something into Eddy’s ear and he agreed with whatever she told him, stood up and prepared to leave.

Bry, I’ve got to run up to the house and check the answering machine. I’m about ready to crash for the night, so take it easy, bud. I’ll call you later today. I’m gonna need you to come over and help me out with some stuff.

Okay. I replied.

He put on his dark plaid flannel shirt and followed the blonde girl out the door. I sat in the new environment of silence, with the exception of some loose tunes that came from the stereo, and took note to

a couple that wearily found their way out of the house and to their car. I went to the bar and poured myself another glass of Coke. The attractive woman stood up from the floor and stretched with a yawn.

Can I get you something? I asked her from the horse trough.

Is that Coke you got there? She asked.

Yeah, I replied as she walked across the room to where I stood. She took the glass from my hand and took a drink and gave me a look.

What do you think of me, Bry?

About what? I asked her.

I eventually went back to school, and let the days that awaited me, take care of themselves. Only to find more days that wearily dragged into the future. I eventually graduated from high school and decided that I was tired of Kansas and moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico with my friend Chris. Chris was only a year older than myself, and was considered a dead ringer Burt Reynolds look alike. He taught martial arts and planned on opening his own gym to teach martial arts in New Mexico. As for me, I was just going to find steady work.

Chris opened up his own gym and immediately scored success, both business wise and with a girl he’d met named Racquel. I bought a cheap house on the outskirts of town with some money I’d saved and hired my brother Pat and Chris’s younger brother, Zack to help refinish it. My brother brought his girlfriend down with him and they basically never went back to Kansas. People that we knew always said that my brother and I looked the same. With blonde hair and blue eyes, some people thought we even talked the same. Neither of us seemed to accept that comment or really agree on it for that fact, even though they were right.

Then came Chris’s little brother Zack, he looked a lot like his brother Chris as well, but looked less and less like his clean cut other half when he let his dark hair grow as long as it could and go months at a time without a shave. He had been kicked out of high school because he kept showing up to school with black make up all over his face. It was a Catholic community, and they didn’t take kindly to longhaired kids running around school with black make up on their face. My brother, Chris, and myself went to the same school Zack had and never got in as much trouble in three years, that it took Zack two weeks to do. Zack stood firm against anybody that insisted that he not show up to school with the make up on his face, he said it was his religious symbol, like that of what the Catholics wore around their necks. He was warned a few more times and then after the third day, they suspended him and he never returned. He shacked up in Albuquerque, either with me or Chris and his girlfriend Racquel.

After a month of being in New Mexico, he met what he considered, the one. Her name was Pam. She was a pretty little petite blonde girl that worked the counter at a Texaco where Zack was a regular who frequented to buy gas, Cheetohs, and cheap beer. One night, it was close to two thirty in the morning and Zack was trying to buy a pack of Camels. Pam asked for his license, and somehow they made a connection off of that experience by itself. Pam went on and got a great job with some big office where she was a secretary making great money. Zack hit a mini jackpot when some drunk ran into him at an intersection and Zack won a case that earned him a six-figure settlement. With that, he bought a house, many things he thought he needed, and started to make a life with Pam.

Things carried on even further, and I started meeting new people in town. Like Vinnie Rotzulli, an Italian tough guy who always wore black and drove a Cadillac. He had more money than he knew what to do with and opted to drink it away on most occasions. So there I was, an avid non-alcoholic, sitting in a crowded bar in the downtown area of Albuquerque, not knowing what would become of one night.

CHAPTER 1

I had no idea where the night was going, or where it would end up taking me. I was sitting at a crowded bar called Rodney’s Bar and Grill in Albuquerque, New Mexico with an Italian tough guy named Vinnie.

Man, if she doesn’t settle her ass down. He started, in reference to his rowdy girlfriend, Beth. What’s your story tonight? He asked me.

Same old shit, Vinnie. Killing time.

Yeah, you know, he started.

Vinnie, get your ass away from that bar and take me home. Beth ordered, but Vinnie ignored her.

Anyway. Vinnie said as he looked directly at Beth.

Vinnie! She said through a scowl that could break glass.

What do you want? He asked her calmly.

I want you to drag your sorry ass away from this bar and take me home.

Get a cab. He told her as he took a sip from his drink.

You’ve got five minutes. Beth warned him, then left the building.

Anyway. He mumbled with an unlit cigarette hanging off of his bottom lip. Hey man, what ever happened to that chick I saw you runnin’ around with the other night?

The girl with the pony tail? I asked him.

Yeah, who was she?

Some girl from the gym. I replied.

Goin’ out with her? He asked in curiosity.

Nah. We just came over here for a drink the other night and she told me all about this guy she just met. I explained.

Yeah, I was, he started.

VINNIE! Beth yelled, hurling her inpatient bitch voice into the building from the entrance towards Vinnie. He stood hunched over, with his fingers in his ears, grimacing as if in pain. He then looked up from the floor and over at Beth, standing impatiently, waiting from where she screamed at him.

I think you better go, Vinnie. I advised.

Vinnie just stood still; calmly, without changing his expression, raised his right hand and mildly flipped her off. In return, she stomped out again, but never returned. Vinnie, knowing that he’d taken Beth to the limit, put out his cigarette, finished his drink and ruffled the collar of his slick black leather jacket before officially exiting himself. It wasn’t too long after that that I too had seen enough of the band that was playing that night and found my way out.

It was a slow night and boredom lived on every street. For a Friday night, it was definitely slow in the most active part of town. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I went home and tried to sort through the mess that my younger brother and our friend Zack had left behind. Dirty plates, half filled glasses of something liquid that I didn’t want to know about, with a handful of Patrick’s girlfriend’s undergarments strung recklessly across the front room. To say that I was disappointed with their housekeeping skills would be an understatement. Zack kind of wandered in and out of the house as he pleased, Pat went to college and then raised hell at night with Zack while I closed at the gym. Jill was the only one that I couldn’t get completely pissed off at, because I knew she tried maybe thirty per-

cent of the time, to do her part. It was more than I could say for the other two.

With nothing better to do, and figuring that the mess in the house wasn’t going to clean itself, I started sorting through it slowly and surely to find the carpet I once saw on the floor. I cranked up a couple of CDs and started washing a stack of dishes three feet tall.

Zack’s girlfriend Pam eventually came by the house looking for her absent boyfriend. He had his own place with her, but he always ended up spending a lot of his time with Patrick at my house.

I haven’t seen him all day. I told her after inviting her inside the slightly quieter house. I’ve been doing some housekeeping that your boyfriend and my brother left for me today.

Looks like some of his work. Pam chuckled as she took notice to a steak knife stuck to a dried puddle of tomato sauce and a leftover frozen burrito left on a plate.

What brings you over here at one o’clock in the morning? I asked her. Don’t you have to work tomorrow?

Well, I don’t have a job any more. Pam announced as I returned to the confines of the kitchen and went back to doing the dishes.

Get tired of it?

Oh, let’s just say my boss was a little grabby.

You’re kidding? I asked in disbelief.

No I’m not. I’m surprised that Zack hasn’t told you about it yet.

Like I said, I haven’t seen Zack all day. I reminded her. You gonna be alright?

Oh, I’m fine with it now. I’ll just have to find me another job and kind of go from there. She said with some hope in her voice. I don’t know exactly when that’s gonna happen because I’ll have to spend a lot of time in court because I’m suing the shit out of that date rapist son of a bitch.

Hell, I don’t know where those two ran off to. I figured they’d be back by now if they went anywhere. I said, changing the subject for some reason.

Oh, well. Pam shrugged, then flopped down on the sofa and said she didn’t have anywhere to go and that she would just hang out until Zack came back through whenever that would be.

I was halfway through the stack of dishes when Pam pulled up a barstool across from the sink and started talking about what happened with her job.

The more I think about it, the more it pisses me off. She explained. Because the guy is such a little weasel rich boy faggot. And I’m the one that lost my job because I wouldn’t agree with his ways.

Like, what ways? I asked.

Like the way that I would get a raise, and an easier job if I let him have his way with me.

Let me get this straight. This guy fired you because you wouldn’t let him fuck you? I asked.

Yeah, can you believe that shit? She asked me. I knew that he always had a problem. That guy couldn’t talk to me, or anyone for that matter, without putting a hand on some part of your body. It made me sick to even have a conversation with the guy. Then he makes me stay late, just the two of us in the office and he pulls his shit.

Did you beat the shit out of him?

I wanted to, I kneed him though. I was aiming for his nuts and hit that spot where the inside of his leg met his hip. He didn’t like that. That’s when he fired me.

So you actually got fired for kneeing your boss in the groin?

No, that’s what I had to do to get him off of me.

That’s a shitty deal Pam, I admitted, having nothing else to say, because there wasn’t anything else to say.

Could’ve been worse. She added. It could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.

It was three o’clock and neither my brother nor Zack had managed to show up. Pam had curled herself into a sleepy ball on the sofa, which was actually visible, and I was crashed out in my favorite chair. It was a big overstuffed chair with high arms on it, which ended up being my bed on many nights.

Wake the fuck up man! Zack screamed.

What the hell? I mumbled, half-awake.

Zack, where the fuck have you been all night? Pam asked him immediately.

Oh, should we tell them, man? Zack asked my brother.

Hell yeah. Patrick agreed while raiding the fridge for the new arrivals.

You fuckin’ run off and stay out all night doing whatever the fuck it is you’ve been doing all night. Pam hostiley informed him. You come in with this shit all over your pants. What is that shit?

Sheet rock. Zack laughed which prompted me to finally sit up in my chair and make an attempt to stay awake.

Maybe I don’t want to know. Pam told him politely.

Nah babe, you’d enjoy it. Zack laughed. You know that fuckin’ scumbag rat ass cocksucker you used to work for?

Yeah? She replied.

We like destroyed his mansion. Zack explained.

Yeah right. Pam chuckled. Sure you did.

I’m serious. We watched the dude leave and then we busted up the alarm system, broke the cameras.

Zack here drove the guy’s Corvette through the living room wall. Patrick added.

We took sledge hammers,

And axes,

Man, we fucked that place up! Zack yelled, then strutted across the room and slapped Patrick on the hand.

You can’t be serious. Pam asked, a little more concerned.

Look into my eyes. Zack demanded, then started laughing again. Look into my eyes babe. I’m telling you the one hundred percent truth. We destroyed that guy’s mansion.

Goddamn it Zack! Do you know what kind of trouble you could get us all in?

Nah, just me. You weren’t there. He lazily corrected her then took a powerful swig from his bottle of beer.

Damn it! Pam hissed in distress, rubbing her head in agony. I just don’t know.

I called Aunt Sari last night and she’s gonna let us stay at her cabin down at Branson for a couple of days. Patrick told me