Acid Rain: Part III

"The clouds are getting difficult to focus on" Anthony offered. "We're gonna head back to Bird's before we peak."

I shook my head and laughed in spite of myself.

"We smoked a ton of weed afterward we dropped, so it shouldn't be long" he continued, shooting a cautionary look at the sky.

"I'll grab some beer and come over right after I close the store" I replied as I returned to my post and watched them take leave. I sat in place and stared out the window, not noticing my eyes had fallen out of focus. I was lost in thought for what seemed like only minutes when I glance at the clock. 6:02 pm...Showtime.

I arrived at Bird's no more than 15 minutes after closing the store to an oddly humorous scene. Anthony sat straight up in a reclinder, absent-mindedly smoking a cigarette; oblivious to the cacaphony enveloping the already thick air. Bird, struck by a notion that the duplex was untidy, was circling the furniture with the vacuum. Little did I know he was approaching hour three pushing said appliance.

"Have you guys been here this whole time?" I asked, as a smile broke on my face at the odd hilarity of the situation.

Anthony now aware of additional company, nervously darted his eyes around the small living room, stopping occasionally at my face and the motorized dust collector.

"Umm, yeah" he answered, obviously disoriented by the humming.

I crossed the room, offering a refreshment to both as I fell into an open recliner with a relieved sigh and snapped open the top of a beer. I smiled again watching the two of them as I took a long pull from the malt beverage and lit a Marlboro. Even though I had missed the best parts, this would be my entertainment for the evening. I couldn't take my eyes away.

It wasn't until the following day, now Monday, that I would hear the entire story. I met Anthony at Subway, Bird acting as our sandwich artist, to hear the missing pieces.

Shortly after they returned from our beer store visit to the 2nd floor duplex, things began to take off.

"It was the weirdest thing I could imagine" Anthony began. "We sat there in silence, and Bird, out of nowhere, jumped up and started cleaning...he never stopped until you got there. It freaked the shit out of me."

Bird, hearing Anthony's recollection, came to our table and chimed in. "Dude, my spine was starting to twitch! I couldn't sit still! Anthony came into the kitchen to get a pop while I was cleaning but I don't remember saying a word to him. He opened the freezer and stood there staring into it like it was fuckin' game 7 of the Stanley Cup!"

He had my attention.

"I came back in the kitchen and he had moved from the freezer to the counter. I watched him watch the bubbles in his pop rise for 20 minutes." He continued.

"Hahaha, you guys are fuckin' retarded!" I said as I exhaled a lungful of Virginian tobacco smoke.
"Then it got weird" Anthony's face changed as he spoke. He was serious now. "I went from feeling happier than I've ever been to the deepest depression imagineable." My mood changed instantaneously as I found nothing humorous about that level of anxiety.

"So what did you do?" I was honestly intrigued by the intricacies of the drug-addled mind.

"Well" he let out an exasperated breath "I did the only thing I could think of at that moment...I went to the bathroom, without staring into the mirror, and rubbed one out!"


Ahh, yes...masturbation: a cure-all stress reliever, prostate exerciser and hallucinogenic drug stabilizer.