, , , , , , ,


Chapter Three

A Meeting With the Boss

It was hard sleeping without Ann. It still felt unnatural even  though I was now crashing on a fresh, smaller mattress. The fact that I knew where she was sleeping every night made it that much harder.

I’d been having some pretty gruesome dreams, of late. But on this night, it was over the top terrible.  It was like one of those campy horror movies—only it wasn’t campy.

I awake like I’ve woken from a bad dream. The bad dream I awake from… I don’t remember. Upon waking I turn and find Ann’s softly curved naked body. Her hip is warm and she starts to moan as I caress its crescent. I nestle up against her and we lie in the spooning position. Her bare bottom is pressed against my groin and I’m getting hard. She releases herself from my right arm, which is pulling her tightly into my erection.

She turns around and looks me in the eyes, studying me. After some silence, she speaks in a strange repetitive tone, “Don’t worry, Mason…you’ll get your revenge. I promise, baby, you’ll get your revenge. I promise you, baby, you’ll…” But before she can finish she starts to profusely vomit chunks of blood.

Horrified, I wake. I sit up. This…this was a bad one.

I feel like I’m steeping in something…a hot dampness, not like sweat but more like…!

I fall out of bed and hit the flea infested carpet face-first. I can feel the little fuckers tugging on my legs.

The light through the blinds has faded into a paler shade of purple. I look at the clock:  6:15 a.m. It’ll be light soon. I realize that Keith is in the den. I can hear music faintly playing. He’s passed out with the stereo on.

“Mason…” Keith asks. He’s sipping a cup of coffee as I hurry about, getting ready for work, “Do you know anywhere I can get some weed?”

“What?” I ask, flabbergasted. I emerge from the tiny bathroom with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“Some weed?”

“Jesus Christ, Keith, you know I can’t do that. If I got nailed, not only would I lose my job but I would damage my boss big time!”

“Yeah, I suppose.” He sounds dejected.

“What do you need marijuana for anyway?”

“It helps with the pain.”

“What pain?”

“Why do you think I have those prescriptions, Mason? I live with chronic pain. It’s a medical condition.”

“So weed is supposed to help with that?”

“Yes. It helps more than anything; and, it doesn’t constipate me.”

“I knew you did drugs before prison…but how do you know it works on this pain?” I swish water in my mouth.

“Because I smoked in prison.”

“What?” I ask, spitting into the dirty, cluttered kitchen sink.

“That’s right. I smoked in prison. It helped with the pain. It helped a lot.”

“Goddamn, these places are worse than even I thought. How the fuck did you get weed in prison?”

“The guards.”

“The fucking guards?”

“Yeah, that’s right. They sold it to us. It was one of the only things they were useful for.”

“Is this how you used the money I sent you… for drugs?” I ask rhetorically, then comment, “I don’t know, Keith, I was there yesterday and they looked like they wanted us for lunch.”

“Not all the guards sold, only a few. One or two.”

Before I bolt out the door I tell him, “I’ll think about it.”

Continue reading The District Manager by Matt Minor!