AN ANGRY GOD had snapped his fingers in my skull, killing half
my brain cells and traumatizing the leftovers. I opened my eyes and got lightning flashes across my vision. White fireworks that were regular features of my worst hangovers.
But who was I kidding?
I wasn’t hungover.
I was still wasted.
Last night’s session with Jim had run up my tab at Rick’s Bar like
the counter on a gas crisis fuel pump. Jim and I had rounded off the
night by doing a couple of lines of K in the fetid cesspit Rick calls a
men’s room, and my world had taken on a muffled, comatose, “fill in
the blanks” quality. I have no idea how I got back to the tiny rathole I
leased by the Long Beach Freeway. It was a dump, but it was my dump, and most of the stains on the threadbare faux-Persian rug were mine, so I didn’t mind coming round face down on the raggedy red floor.
There was thunder to go with the lightning flashes, and it took me a moment to realize the cracking noises weren’t imagined. Someone
was banging on the front door, no more than ten feet from my head.
“Open up, sir. Mr. Collard, we know you’re in there.”
I glanced around to see shapes at my window. My eyes wouldn’t focus properly, but the blocks of dark color suggested man-shaped lumps in uniform.
“Open up,” someone else said, rapping on the window.
“Yeah. Okay,” I replied, voice hoarse, throat raw.
Had I thrown up? I belched some bile, which burned when I swallowed.
Tequila, rum, vodka, and bourbon had all featured in past me’s
smorgasbord of drinks. Booze always convinced me I was invincible,and the more I drank the more invincible I became. I didn’t feel invincible now, though.
Left hand on the 1970s teak coffee table I’d found in a thrift shop,
and I pushed myself onto my side. Right hand on the arm of the green
corduroy couch someone over in Compton left in front of their house,
and I forced myself up from the floor. The room whirled like a
spinning top. Thankfully I wouldn’t have to do anything as complicated as get dressed. I was still clothed in my light jeans and a blue checked shirt worn unbuttoned over a black T-shirt, all crumpled and stained. I looked down at my bare feet and wondered where my shoes and socks were.
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