By the time I got home that night I was fuming. I walked up the stairs really slow, and I could feel the muscles in my legs flexing. When I got to the top, I was ready to kick the door down with one swift move, like Chun-Li from Street Fighter. I had the hypo in my hand too, clutching it like a sword. But then I heard this weird music coming from the apartment. Something about it reminded me of The Twilight Zone theme song. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t The Cure. I stuck my key in the lock and turned really slowly, but the music stopped as soon as I opened the door just like I knew it would. John was at his usual spot at the kitchen table, and from the looks of it he was in the middle of a really sweet nod. He certainly didn’t look like he had been messing around with his little 1980’s tape deck in the recent past. Why had that music suddenly stopped?
I slammed the door hard. “Hey!” I was back into Chun-Li mode. “What was that weird music?” I was holding the hypo behind my back. He snapped out of it for a second. “What weird music? I don’t hear anything, baby.”
“It was playing until I turned my key in the door. Then it went away.”
His eyes were rolling back in his head, and he was mumbling something to himself.
“Hey!” I still had the hypo behind my back, but it's not like it really mattered. I could have stuck it up John's nose and he wouldn't have noticed.
“Hey, baby,” he said. “I’m sorry I keep falling out.” He straightened up, and cleared his throat like he was going to have a real conversation with me. “How was work?”
I considered doing a back flip and trying to land on the kitchen table in front of him, but I decided to play it safe and just walk over there really fast. “Guess what was in my apron, that I pulled out in the middle of a lunch rush to write some old ladies's orders with?”
He looked at me and shook his head. “I’m sorry baby, could you say that over one more time because I lost it under the table and . . .” his eyes were closing, and he was getting Muppet mouth.
“Good God. Wake up asshole. I’m talking to you!”
He tried to shake it off. “My bad, baby, what is it?”
“Explain this to me,” I shoved the hypo in his face, and he didn’t even flinch. "Do you think you're funny putting this in my apron like the fucking injection alien?"
He shook his head. “I didn’t touch your apron. It was just hanging up over there and then she told me not to go there so I . . . .”
I stomped into the bedroom and chucked the hypo onto the floor. The interrogation wasn’t getting me anywhere. I’d have to wait until later when John was a little more coherent. I kicked off my shoes and fell into bed. I turned on the television set to do my usual sit-com therapy, but no Buffy for me. There was just a blue screen. I flipped through a couple of channels, but it didn’t seem to do any good. I put the remote down and stared at the screen for a while. I was obviously not in the mood to get on the phone with the cable company--especially considering we were about three weeks late with our payment. The blue screen was kind of nice anyway. It was more relaxing than any of those mindless shows I usually ended up watching. But after a while, I started to feel like I was being brainwashed. I shouldn’t enjoy staring at a blue screen so much. It was definitely a little weird.
I looked up at the dresser for no reason at all and saw that my bowling trophy wasn't there. I snapped out of my blue trance and jumped up. My adrenaline went into overdrive. I searched the room for other places John could have put it while he was in his dope-induced haze. I checked the closet, I checked under the bed, I even opened the window and looked out at the sidewalk. Nothing. And I knew it was just a stupid bowling trophy, but I had bowled a perfect game. A three hundred. It was probably the coolest thing I had ever done in my life, and judging from the way things were going, it might end up being the coolest thing I would ever do. The trophy wasn’t anything special--just a girl with a ponytail, swinging a bowling ball--but it was my only evidence that the three hundred game had ever happened. Fuck.
I flew back out into the kitchen. John hadn’t moved an inch since our last “conversation.”
“Where the hell is my bowling trophy?" John’s eyes fluttered open, and I could see he was going to the dark side. “Why do you keep asking me all these fucking questions, Jackie? Can't you leave me alone for five minutes?"
I had to take a walk before I lost my mind or killed him. Or both. John didn’t even notice me leaving, and I wasn’t halfway down the stairs when that weird music came on again. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I wanted to scream! It felt like John was playing all these head games with me, but he had been so out of it lately. What could he possibly do in his state? Plus, what had he done with my bowling trophy? I had looked everywhere--it was not in the apartment. Was it possible that he has actually pawned it? The idea was ludicrous, but it was all I could think of. The weird music was just the icing on the cake. I wanted to run back up the stairs and kick the door down, but I knew I'd see John just sitting there like "Baby, why'd you do that?" Honestly, he was probably just playing some stupid mix-tapes that one of his weirdo friends had made for him. Why he only wanted to listen to them when I wasn't there was beyond me. All I knew was that I was pissed and I had to get out of there before someone got really hurt.
I slammed the door hard. “Hey!” I was back into Chun-Li mode. “What was that weird music?” I was holding the hypo behind my back. He snapped out of it for a second. “What weird music? I don’t hear anything, baby.”
“It was playing until I turned my key in the door. Then it went away.”
His eyes were rolling back in his head, and he was mumbling something to himself.
“Hey!” I still had the hypo behind my back, but it's not like it really mattered. I could have stuck it up John's nose and he wouldn't have noticed.
“Hey, baby,” he said. “I’m sorry I keep falling out.” He straightened up, and cleared his throat like he was going to have a real conversation with me. “How was work?”
I considered doing a back flip and trying to land on the kitchen table in front of him, but I decided to play it safe and just walk over there really fast. “Guess what was in my apron, that I pulled out in the middle of a lunch rush to write some old ladies's orders with?”
He looked at me and shook his head. “I’m sorry baby, could you say that over one more time because I lost it under the table and . . .” his eyes were closing, and he was getting Muppet mouth.
“Good God. Wake up asshole. I’m talking to you!”
He tried to shake it off. “My bad, baby, what is it?”
“Explain this to me,” I shoved the hypo in his face, and he didn’t even flinch. "Do you think you're funny putting this in my apron like the fucking injection alien?"
He shook his head. “I didn’t touch your apron. It was just hanging up over there and then she told me not to go there so I . . . .”
I stomped into the bedroom and chucked the hypo onto the floor. The interrogation wasn’t getting me anywhere. I’d have to wait until later when John was a little more coherent. I kicked off my shoes and fell into bed. I turned on the television set to do my usual sit-com therapy, but no Buffy for me. There was just a blue screen. I flipped through a couple of channels, but it didn’t seem to do any good. I put the remote down and stared at the screen for a while. I was obviously not in the mood to get on the phone with the cable company--especially considering we were about three weeks late with our payment. The blue screen was kind of nice anyway. It was more relaxing than any of those mindless shows I usually ended up watching. But after a while, I started to feel like I was being brainwashed. I shouldn’t enjoy staring at a blue screen so much. It was definitely a little weird.
I looked up at the dresser for no reason at all and saw that my bowling trophy wasn't there. I snapped out of my blue trance and jumped up. My adrenaline went into overdrive. I searched the room for other places John could have put it while he was in his dope-induced haze. I checked the closet, I checked under the bed, I even opened the window and looked out at the sidewalk. Nothing. And I knew it was just a stupid bowling trophy, but I had bowled a perfect game. A three hundred. It was probably the coolest thing I had ever done in my life, and judging from the way things were going, it might end up being the coolest thing I would ever do. The trophy wasn’t anything special--just a girl with a ponytail, swinging a bowling ball--but it was my only evidence that the three hundred game had ever happened. Fuck.
I flew back out into the kitchen. John hadn’t moved an inch since our last “conversation.”
“Where the hell is my bowling trophy?" John’s eyes fluttered open, and I could see he was going to the dark side. “Why do you keep asking me all these fucking questions, Jackie? Can't you leave me alone for five minutes?"
I had to take a walk before I lost my mind or killed him. Or both. John didn’t even notice me leaving, and I wasn’t halfway down the stairs when that weird music came on again. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I wanted to scream! It felt like John was playing all these head games with me, but he had been so out of it lately. What could he possibly do in his state? Plus, what had he done with my bowling trophy? I had looked everywhere--it was not in the apartment. Was it possible that he has actually pawned it? The idea was ludicrous, but it was all I could think of. The weird music was just the icing on the cake. I wanted to run back up the stairs and kick the door down, but I knew I'd see John just sitting there like "Baby, why'd you do that?" Honestly, he was probably just playing some stupid mix-tapes that one of his weirdo friends had made for him. Why he only wanted to listen to them when I wasn't there was beyond me. All I knew was that I was pissed and I had to get out of there before someone got really hurt.
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