Requiem for a Dream (5 page)

The next night they still had some stuff left, it was
that good. Man, somebody sure did screw up. That stuff shoulda been
cut at least a half dozen times. Sheeit, there better not be too much
around jim or theres gonna be a lot a daid dudes in this town. Man,
whats a couple a more stiffs in this town? Sheeit, they drive the man
nuts tryin to figure whats goin down.

They were feeling mellow and realized that there was
no point in thinking of going to work tomorrow morning, which was
only a few hours away. There was no sense in ruining a good high with
work. They decided to fall by Tonys pad to see what was happening.

The streets were filled with the actions and sounds
of a summers night. The stoops and firescapes were filled with people
and there were hundreds of games of dominoes and cards, the players
surrounded with onlookers, cans of beer and bottles of wine being
passed around. Kids would burst past the games and the players would
automatically yell at them without taking their eyes off the game or
missing a drink. It was a nice night. A pleasant evening. There
seemed to be stars somewhere and it was easy to avoid stepping in the
garbage and dog shit on the streets. A truly beautiful night.

Tony lived in a converted loft in an old industrial
building. Actually what was meant by converted was that there was a
bed at one end and a stove and refrigerator at the other end. In
between was a lot of space. Usually the space was dotted with people
getting high, getting higher, or wondering why they werent high yet.
When Harry and Tyrone got there there were a few people sitting
around on the floor. Tony sat in the only chair, a large,
overstuffed, ripped and torn chair that had huge wings that made it
look as if it was going to close itself around Tony and somehow
swallow and digest him and he would end up on a shelf somewhere in
the dark and dusty corner of a secondhand furniture store staring
back at the cat sitting on the floor staring up at him, a
not-for-sale sign hanging from his chest. He was watching television,
the set a large old console that was the perfect companion for the
chair and fit in perfectly in the loft. Tony had a Chinese water pipe
hanging from a cord around his neck. The bowl was filled with hash
and he took a poke, from time to time, always staring at the set. A
few people were sitting around a hookah that had been filled with
wine, the bowl filled with pot, a piece of hash on top. Marion had
just taken a poke when Harry and Tyrone walked in. They squatted next
to the others. Whats happenin man? Hey baby, whatsgoin down? Whats
happenin? Same old thing man. The stem was handed to Harry and he
sucked on it for a minute then handed it to Tyrone. When Harry
finally exhaled he leaned back a little and looked at Marion. Hows it
goin? O, the same old thing. Harry nodded toward the hookah, Thats
some nice hash. Uh huh. Its really doin a number on my head. Just
smoothed it right out. Harrys eyes were closed slightly and his face
was relaxed in a smile. I figured that. Youre sure lookin good.
Marions face burst into a sudden grin and she chuckled, Is that
supposed to be a compliment, or you playing the dozens? Harry spread
his arms and shrugged, his face still in a sleepy grin.

Sometimes Im not too swave when Im ripped. Marion
chuckled a little louder, Maybe not, but youre a lot more sociable.
You know, you have a really nice smile when you relax, like you are
now. Harry laughed then leaned a little closer, I aint got no choice
baby, I feel so relaxed I think Im going to melt. Marion laughed and
squeezed Harrys hand, then took the hose and took another poke from
the pipe then passed it to Harry. He laughed, This is just what I
need now . . . you know, to sort of help me get rid of the tension,
right? Marion shook her head and strained not to laugh as she held
the smoke in her lungs. Tyrone pushed the hose closer to Harrys face,
Comeon mah man, you can talk that trash later. Jus take your hit an
git on with it. Harry took a poke, concentrating as hard as possible,
then passed the hose to Fred. Tyrone watched as Fred sucked on the
hose in one long continuous breath that seemed to last five minutes,
that threatened to force the hashish to burst into flames it glowed
so brighly under the force of air. Damn, this muthafucka goin to suck
up that hash right through the pipe. Look see if he dont have a hole
in the back of his haid, all that air gotta be goin somewheres. Fred
finally took the hose from his mouth and passed it to Tyrone, a
broad, dumb smile on his face, and still holding his breath he
grunted, Dont get greedy baby. Tyrone started laughing, clutching the
hose in both hands, and the others started giggling, and Tyrone
looked down at the floor and shook his head then looked up and at
Fred who still had a big shit eatin grin on his face and Tyrone
started laughing harder and harder and the others started laughing
and shaking their heads, unavoidably drawn to looking at Fred sitting
there with that dumb grin that kept getting larger and dumber and now
a momentum had been built up and no matter how hard they tried they
could not stop laughing and Fred continued to hold his breath
although he felt like he was suffocating and his face was flushing
more and more and his eyes were bulging and Tyrone kept pointing at
him and shaking his head and laughing and sputtering, Shee . . . Shee
. . . and finally Fred blurted the air out and quickly sucked in some
more and shook his head back and forth, Gahddamn, and the others
laughed uncontrollably and Tony took another hit on his pipe and
frowned at the television set as the story was interrupted for a
commercial, and then a few more, and then a station break and then a
few more commercials and Tony took another hit and fidgeted in his
chair and started grumbling under his breath about the goddamn
bullshit, he wanted to see the goddamn show not some bullshit dog
eatin horse meat, and then he started yelling at the set, Go ahead ya
fuckin hound, stick ya nose up her drawers. Whats the matta, donta ya
like fish? Eh? Ya don't like fish ya faggot dog bastard. The others
had stopped laughing, and were finished smoking the hash for a while,
and were just leaning back and listening to the music and rapping and
then they started to half watch and listen to Tony and the giggles
started again. Hey baby, yawl shouldnt talk about faggots like that
when Harrys aroun, he get his feelings hurt. Fred stuck that dumb
countryboy grin on his face, How you know hes a faggot. Maybe its
just a bulldike, and he suddenly started to fall apart laughing,
damn, that tickles the shit outta me, hahahahahaha, a bulldog,
bulldike, hahahahaha, damn, hahaha; and Tony was still grumbling
incomprehensibly and the others were giggling and laughing as they
watched Fred laughing and shaking his head and whenever his laughter
started to subside he'd start blithering about bulldog, bulldikes and
everybody started giggling again and Tony got up, his water pipe
hanging from his neck, and went to the dresser and took something out
of a drawer and plopped back into his chair and disappeared from
sight behind the enveloping wings and put a fresh piece of hash in
the bowl and lit it and took a couple of long pokes, as the show came
back on, then settled back and silently and motionlessly watched the
show. Fred finally exhausted himself and was incapable of any more
laughter although he continued to shake his head and grin and the
others avoided looking at him because when they did they started
laughing and everyone had pains in their sides from laughing and so
looked everywhere except at Fred, and Harry and Marion drifted away
from the others and were sprawled on a few old cushions and half
leaning against a wall, half listening to the music and directing
most of their attention toward each other. You living alone now or do
you have a roomie? No, Im alone. You know that. Harry shrugged, Hey,
how do I know? The last time I remember bein at your pad you had a
roomie, right? My God, that's months ago. Wow, is it that long ago?
Tempus really fugits, eh? Sometimes. Sometimes it seems to stand
still. Like youre in a bag and you cant get out and somebodys always
telling you that it will get better with time and time just seems to
stand still and laugh at you and your pain. . . . And then eventually
it does break and its six months later. Like you just got your summer
clothes out and then its Christmas and inbetween there are ten years
of pain. Harry smiled, Jesus, all I said was hello and you give me ya
fingerprint classification. But Im glad youre alright. Marion laughed
and Harry lit a joint and took a couple of quick pokes and handed it
to Marion. Tony started to jerk slightly, his movements involuntary
as he sensed a coming disaster. He was absorbed in the show as much
as possible and wondering how the heavy was going to cool that bad
dude and rip off the broad, pullin for the cat just as hard as
possible, but something in him knew that that goddamn television set
was plotting against him, that it was just layin back and waiting to
getim. He lit his pipe again and took a couple of long pokes then
snuffed the hash and stared at the television, Youd better not fuck
with me ya son of a bitch. Im warnin ya. He stopped twitching and
settled back into his chair and disappeared once again from sight.
Marion chuckled, He really has his own S&M scene going on with
that thing, doesn't he? Yeah. Hes like a guy with a broad who wont
giveim a little. The others were half watching Tony too, and smiling,
enjoying him, as they had many times before, more than anything on
the tube he was watching. You know somethin man, he think thats his
ol lady. Shit, he aint never talked to his ol lady like that. They
laughed and went back to their listening, talking and smoking. Harry
was sort of leaning against Marion as she slowly stroked his head and
played with his hair as they listened to the music. From time to time
he would leisurely reach up and rub the nipple of a boob with his
fingertip, or caress a boob with the palm of his hand, ever so
gently, not through design, but a kind of reverie. He would watch his
fingertip rubbing the protruding nipple and imagine it under her
blouse and think of opening her blouse and kissing it, but it seemed
like too much of an undertaking at the moment and so he postponed it
and just listened to the music and moved with the flow of the
stroking of his head, surrendering deeper and deeper into the sensual
currents it stoked. You know somethin baby, that feels better than a
fix. It really turns me on. I like it too. I have always liked curly
hair. It feels good around the fingers. You cant just push through
like straight hair. It resists. Like it has a life of its own and it
feels exciting when you defeat it, and Marion watched her fingers
going through Harrys hair, watching the ends twist and bob as her
fingers worked their way through, and then she would twirl the hair
with a finger, watching it snap and bounce, then let the hair caress
the palm of her hand then close her fingers and raise her hand slowly
feeling the hair slowly slide between the fingers, her fingers, aware
that she was creating a rhythm to her caressing that was governing
her breathing and then she became a part of the breathing and flowed
into the ripples that tingled through her as Harry rubbed the nipple
of a breast between fingertips, imagining her rosy nipple and how it
would feel between his lips, when Tony started yelling at the goddamn
television again, Youd betta not do it prick. Im warnin ya ya lousy
bastad, Ive had enough a ya shit, and he squirmed in his chair and
peered defiantly at the television screen and Tyrone giggled his
giggle, Ah doan mind him fat mouthin that set, but I sure hope the
muthafucka doan start talkin back toim cause when that happens ah
gotta cut loose this shit and split jim, and he took another good
poke and turned his head so he wouldnt be lookin into the dumbass
grin of Freds who was always doin that, tryin to get him to gag and
spit out the smoke; and somebody broke out some amyl-nitrite and
popped it open and held a finger over one nostril and sniffed deeply
until the popper was grabbed from his hand and the person shoved it
up their nose and squeezed the other nostril shut and the both of
them fell on the floor giggling and laughing and roaring and Tony
leaned forward in his seat, I knew it,

I knew the rat bastads were gonna do it, Jesus krist
they gripe my shit the rotten bastads, the dirty rotten bastads; and
Harry and Marion suddenly stopped, simultaneously, fondling each
other as the smell of the popper titillated their noses and they sat
up and leaned into the aroma and looked at the people sitting and
lying around, giggling and roaring with laughter, Hey man lay one on
us, and a yellow popper came floating through the air and Harry
grabbed it and he and Marion lay down, side by side, their bodies
almost penetrating each other, and Harry snapped the popper and they
both breathed deeply and held tight to each other as their bodies
started to vibrate and their heads whirled and for a moment it felt
as if they would die, but then they started to laugh and push even
harder against each other, grinding with their laughter, the popper
jammed between their noses; and Tony leaned forward even further, You
scum bag muthafuckas I got ya fuckin strawberry douche ya douche bag
pricks, and he raised his right hand and aimed the old .22 target
pistol he was holding at the set, you aint fuckin with me any more ya
rotten pricks, cockteasin me along with ya goddamn shows an then
shove it up my ass wit that fuckin bullshit when Im waitin ta see
what happened; and everyone had a popper up their nose and were
rolling and scratching and sweating and laughing and Tony peered even
harder at the set, Ya been fuckin wit me long enough with ya fuckin
dog food, and douche bags, and under fuckin arms an no smell shit
paper, he was yelling louder and louder, his face as red as the
others who were sweating behind the poppers, and they watched and
listened to him as they stared through sweat stung eyes, hysterical
with laughter, YA HEAR ME? EH? IVE HAD YA BULLSHIT YA FUCKIN PRICKS,
and he squeezed the trigger and the first slug hit the tube dead
center and there was a mild explosion that momentarily covered the
hysterical laughter and Tonys screaming and sparks and flames burst
out at an angle and huge hunks of thick glass assailed the room as
smoke drifted up and around the set and Tony stood up screaming
hysterically, I GOT YA NOW YA MUTHAS CUNT, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA-HAHAHAHA,
and he fired another shot into the dying television set, YA GONNA GET
EVERYTHINS THATS COMMIN TO YA, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, and another shot
went into the crumbling body, HOW DO YA LIKE IT? EH? HOW DO YA LIKE
IT YA PUNK ASSED MUTHA FUCKA, and he kept edging toward the set and
fired another shot into the smoking remains of the once noble set, YA
THOUGHT YA COULD GET AWAY WIT IT, EH? DIDN YA? EH? and the others
continued to watch and laugh and shake as he put one more slug into
the body as he continued walking toward it and then he stood over it,
savoring the last slug, glaring, grinning, and gloating at the
shattered and smoldering remains, watching the spastic sparks leap
and crawl then shoot along the electrical cord and burst and fizz as
they reached the socket and smoke curled from the burned wire and
plug, and Tony started to drool slightly as he watched the set
tremble under his gaze, as it shook and begged for mercy, for one
more chance, I'll never do it again Tony, I swear on my mudders head,
Tony, pleeze, pleeze, give me anotha chance, Tony, I'll make it
right, I swear, I swear on my mudders head I'll make it right for ya
Tony, and Tony sneered at the set as it begged and pleaded, Tonys
whole being filled with contempt for the sniveling sonofa-bitch,
CHANCE??? CHANCE???? I GOT YA FUCKIN CHANCE, SWINGIN, HAHAHAHAHAHAHA,
YA CANT EVEN DIE LIKE A MAN YA PUNK SON OF A BITCH, pleeze, Tony,
pleeze . . . dont shoot, pi— SHAT UP, PUNK, and Tonys expression
was bulging with contempt as he twisted and looked the set right in
the eye and told it in a soft, vicious voice, Suck on this, and fired
the last shot into the trembling and still pleading body of the
television set and it shivered slightly from the coup de grace and
one last spark jumped across a foot of burned space and fizzled away
into eternity as the final wisp of smoke whirled into the atmosphere
and commingled with the smoke from the pot and hash and cigarettes
and the popper scented air and sought freedom from various and sundry
cracks and crevices to disperse itself in the atmosphere. Tony
shrugged and jammed the gun into his waist, I toldya not ta fuck wit
me, and he shrugged again, nobody fucks wit Tony Balls, eh? and he
joined the others and took the popper offered him and did it in and
fell on the floor laughing with the others as somebody offered up a
prayer for the deceased, between giggles, and Harry and Marion had
another popper jammed between them as their bodies continued to grind
into each other as they laughed and clung like skin to each other and
the music continued to drift through the smoke and laughter and
through ears and heads and brains and minds and somehow came out the
other side undisturbed and unchanged and everyone felt good man, I
mean real good, like they just beat a murder rap, or made it to the
top of Mt. Everest, or got heavy with sky diving or floating through
the air like a bird, yeah, soaring and floating on the currents like
a bird, just like a big bird man . . . yeah . . . like they were
suddenly cut loose, like they were suddenly free . . . free . . .
free . . .