Chapter 1

Journal of an Everyman

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Goes what I hope to God is the kitchen sink. I open one eye and roll over to see the digital clock turn to 3:44 AM. My first thoughts are where am I? Who am I? Am I going back to sleep? The answer was no and as the haze of grogginess dissipates my second thought is two and a half hours of sleep isn’t too bad, for me. Damn insomnia. I roll out of bed and follow the worn out path in the carpet. I trudge slowly towards the bath room. I see Jon Thomason; a black birds nest on top of his head, dark bags under his green sunken in eyes, a scruffy mess of a beard. He’s wiry, and just a bit too tall. He looks stretched out to me. My reflection stares back and says Jon Thomason needs a shower.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Goes the uncooperative shower stall. “Work Dammit!” I smack the shower knob and it responds with a familiar groan followed by an eruption of lukewarm water. As the stream of water heats up, my mind begins to wander. It travels away from this crummy two-bit apartment, past my job and vile manager, beyond summer, past Schrodinger Community College, it wanders outside of middle-of nowhere Schrodinger Missouri, outside of reality. It keeps drifting till I simply exist without consciousness. It’s almost like the sleep I never get, I don’t think anything, I don’t feel anything and bloody hell it’s glorious.

“Hey, HEY!” Oh man, I’m being snapped back to reality, good bye peace of mind. “Save some hot water for the rest of us, bro” I return to reality and the familiar voice of my room mate Alexander Id, he’s like a brother to me. “One second, hold your horses” I reply. His retort is so very typical of him “Since when was patience ever a virtue of mine, Jonny? Don’t you know me?” That wise guy of course I know you. I wipe away the water from my eyes and grab my towel. I see Alexander Id better known to me as Bishop, the most unique guy I have had the misfortune and privilege to meet.

I see my room mate wearing his trademark smirk. He’s pierced three times on the eyebrows, two on the left and one on the right. He’s got hair like the Cheshire Cat, short spiky and striped with dark purple. There’s plenty of muscle on his frame, good build. He looks like your everyday punk except for those eyes. At first they look terribly blood shot but its all a little bit off, then you realize his eyes are just dark pink normally. The rest of him is just white, not Caucasian or anything like that, Its just he has an absence of any color, he’s just white. I think the term is albino.

“You’re awake already?” I ask him, he gives that little smirk and shrugs his shoulders. “I just got in actually, not that it matters.” I take in a familiar smell, he doesn’t reek- but I can’t mistake the smell of booze on him. For a moment I can imagine him at one of the singles bars and I pity the poor girl that actually thinks he’s going to call her back the next day. The pity was fleeting and the next thing that rolls of my tongue is “You went drinking with out me? I guess you can pay for a round next time. By the way did you at least get her name this time?” Over the dull roar of the shower I can just make out what he’s saying. “I think it was Alice or something like that. I don’t really remember that many details Jon. How was work?” I snort and spoil the ending before I even open my mouth “It was an abomination, I was supposed to train some new girl, but she never showed up. So we were short staffed and I had to run most of the kitchen because the managers so freaking cheap that he doesn’t want to pay us more than he has to, goddamn scrooge.” Thinking about it brings back remnants of the day’s anger.

Alex steps out of the shower and shakes his head like a dog. He gives a me grin “Sounds like a good reason to get blazed, while I was out I stopped by Teague’s place. Dime bag of pure sticky. Whaddya say Jonny Boy? It’ll help ya sleep.” He looks just like a kid who just bought a toy and wants to play with it right away, with a silent chuckle to myself I head out to grab the bowl. “Sure thing Alex, I don’t have work tomorrow, I check the clock, today. Might as well catch up on my beauty sleep, God knows I need it more than you”

We reenact a ritual from our high school years. We pour the water, we light the leaf, we breath it in deep, hold it. Holding, holding, holding, gone. And everything coherent in our heads float out of our mouths. Thoughts like the smoke rings I blow are spinning lazily in the dimly lit living room. Time… goes… funny… I’m hungry, What time is it? Alex is talking about how art is sexist against men… I don’t get it. Did we play chess? I think we did, who won? Meh, Let’s go get a pizza. We barter and intimidate drawing lines, using diplomatic tactics on the other in an arms race of pepperoni and mushrooms. Holy Shit! Who put that sofa there? I’m tired. Did that Wall just move? And the disjointed thoughts begin to drift off to sleep one by one. Bloody hells I’m so tired I feel like I’m dying. Maybe I’ll feel alive in the morning. I’m drifting off and Alex is already out cold on the floor. I’m going, going, going gone. I exist without consciousness and I’m dead no more.