“This is how you put water in a bong. You want to use a fine, mineral water…”
While I was switching cds in our vehicle, the radio, still with bass bumping, thundered our president’s voice through the open windows. It was so loud to me that it echoed off the moon.
“Fuck it, we’re goin’ to war, put the cd in,” Jake fussed, reaching for the dial. I grabbed his hand – my first disagreeing gesture of the entire day – and said,
“I want to hear this.”
Drew rode along in the back like a souvenier. The mindless driving around lost any fun it might have had as I saw images of Bryce 20-something miles away, delivering pizza. I saw The Green Bros’ mother laughing and drinking at Shenannigan’s, along with most everyone else in town. Gaudy, green beads hung around her neck. A shamrock, sequin hat on her head. A St. Patty’s day vest. Had their fun taken a downward spiral, as mine had, perhaps at the sight of a television screen in the bar?
We drove past little schoolhouses, one of which isn’t there anymore because Drew managed to accidentally set it on fire.
I walked the malls and tattoo parlors with Drew and Jake until it was time for the show.
I am watching laser lights in the planetarium with the boys. Drew leans over and says, “Now that you’re one of the crew, u gotta go, ‘motha-fak-uu'”.
“I’m straight on that shit,” I reply, as bass rumbles the seats and streaks of red chaos dart over our heads.