Jasen Smith
11-20-2009, 04:00 AM
WARNING NOT FOR KIDS!
There I was lying on the floor, soaked in blood, morally wounded, mentally shocked, and still feeling the effects of the mushrooms. It all started two days ago when my mom got a phone call from the doctor, he said my grandmother has cancer and is going to die within a few months. I was going to go see her during the summer, doesn't look like I will.
Mother says I should go see her before she passes away. She doesn't care for grandmother though, probably because grandmother knows my mother was cheating on her son.
My father was a good man, treated my mother very well, but he got cancer four years ago and passed away. My mother quit her job after getting his life insurance, my grandmother has hated her ever since. I don't care much for her myself, but she is my mother, so what am I supposed to do, right?
So, today I am off to go see her before she moves on to a better place. I grab my backpack, twenty sack of weed, glass pipe, lighter my mother gave me, my mom's stash of mushrooms, my dad's knife for protection, and my Strawberry Shortcake lunch box with my Vicodin. I have back problems. Before I leave I grab my hood my dad gave me when I was thirteen and I walk out the door.
I don't bother listening to my mother about staying away from strangers, she's always trying to control me.
We used to have a car, mom sold it for crack, she blew all of dad's money of crack. Since then she has gone into prostitution. Loving mother's will do anything for their children.
Walking down the block men whistle and holler at me, since my mother is a whore, they think I'm one too. Get too close to me and I'll cut your little prick off.
I take a shortcut through the park where no one goes except the homeless who beg for food and drugs. I sit next to a tree and open my backpack to pop a few mushrooms. My friend got me addicted to these things a year ago, I love them. I eat a few, maybe a few more.
"Mmmm, so good." I said licking my fingers. "They're nice and ripe, and so big!" I think to myself jokingly. "Yummy! Delicious!" I think after I eat each one. I think to myself, "Just one. And one more. This is the last. Well, this one Mmmm."
A man came over to me, asked if I was OK, I laughed at his yellow shirt with a butterfly on it. He was gay, I could tell from his lisp, that and the way he was standing just looked like he had something stuck up his ass already. Then he saw my bag of weed and before I knew it he reached in a grabbed it. He took off and I followed him as fast I could.
"I'll catch you! I'll catch you!" I screamed at him. I couldn't help but laugh though, I was high, chasing a gay man wearing a yellow shirt with a butterfly on it. His black bicycle shorts made all the more funny as he bopped and weaved from side to side like he was some sort of football player. I couldn't catch him and I gave up. Out of breathe and leaned against a tree and saw one of the homeless ladies walk up to me. She smelled like spoiled milk and was missing a few teeth on the top. She said her name was daisy and asked if I could spare any change. I told her I didn't have any then I realized I left my bag over by the tree. Daisy handed me a small piece of cloth, it had flowers on it.
"God bless you, dear." She said.
"Awe, how sweet." I responded to her. It was clean.
"I made it this morning. I was going to sell it but I think you could probably use it for something, dear."
"Awe, wait here, let me go grab my bag, I'll give you something."
I walked back to my bag when I felt a little uneasy, couldn't be the mushrooms, never felt like that before, felt more like I was being watched. I turned and saw a man by a tree. He was big, and checking me out. He was dark skinned, and he has the look of "I just out of prison to rape you" look on his face.
I turned back around, and felt that I should leave the bag and get the hell out of here. Before I could make it back I could hear him right behind me, "Where you going, my pretty little thing, all alone?"
"I'm going to see my grandma, she's got cancer and was going to see her before she dies."
"Is that right? She live up on Broadway then huh?"
I swallowed, "Yea, why?"
"No reason, perhaps I'll see ya 'round, Red."
He walked away, I was scared, afraid he'd do something to hurt me.
Still high on mushrooms I grabbed my backpack and continued to grandma's house. Still a little shaken from that man, scruffy faced, and gruffy voiced, I thought he was going to...nevermind what I thought, he didn't so it doesn't matter.
Finally, I get to her house, barred door and windows. I ring the doorbell, no one answered. She is always home, never leaves, where could she be? I knock on the door through the bars and it opens.
"Hello? Grandma, can I come in?"
I heard nothing, I opened the door and could hear her, but just barely. I walked in slowly when I heard her yelp. I saw her on the floor, tied, and bleeding from her head. The man from the park was standing there in the kitchen.
"HELP!" I screamed but he jumped over her and passed me to slam the door shut. He took out a knife and held it to my face. He grabbed my throat and I didn't know what to do, so I took the knife out of my pocket, and jammed it into his pelvis. He yelled, cussed, and was bleeding all over the place. I tried to get grandma untied before he recovered but he grabbed me by my red hood and threw me against the wall. He called me all shorts of names, but I didn't care, I was going to die, I knew it. He grabbed my hood trying to rip it off of me with his knife, cutting me in the process. He was going to do to me exactly what I was afraid of before, all the while I was high on mushrooms.
Dad always told me to stay on the road, that way I'd stay out of harm. "Keep to the path." he said. He stole the line from The Hobbit. Always told me as a little kid to stay on the road when going to school, stay from drugs, stay away from bad people. I should have listened. Now, as I'm am in my grandma's house, staring at her as she is tied and laying on the floor, I was about to be raped.
"POLICE! OPEN UP!" Yelled a man outside the door. "WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE MICHAEL WOLFE! OPEN THE DOOR AND LET THEM GO!"
I threw the lamp laying next to me at Mr. Wolfe, hitting him in the face. The police man broke in and shot him twice in the stomach. He fell to the ground and bled on grandma's rug I got her for Christmas last year. There I was lying on the floor, soaked in blood, morally wounded, mentally shocked, and still feeling the effects of the mushrooms.
The police called my mom later that day after asking me questions about what happened, she came to grandma's in tears. Said, she was actually worried about me. She walked me home even, I don't know why but I told her about what dad told me growing up.
"Keep to the path, we must always keep to the path and never stop. That way, we come to no harm."
She laughed, "You know where he got that from? Little Red Riding Hood."
"How cliche."
There I was lying on the floor, soaked in blood, morally wounded, mentally shocked, and still feeling the effects of the mushrooms. It all started two days ago when my mom got a phone call from the doctor, he said my grandmother has cancer and is going to die within a few months. I was going to go see her during the summer, doesn't look like I will.
Mother says I should go see her before she passes away. She doesn't care for grandmother though, probably because grandmother knows my mother was cheating on her son.
My father was a good man, treated my mother very well, but he got cancer four years ago and passed away. My mother quit her job after getting his life insurance, my grandmother has hated her ever since. I don't care much for her myself, but she is my mother, so what am I supposed to do, right?
So, today I am off to go see her before she moves on to a better place. I grab my backpack, twenty sack of weed, glass pipe, lighter my mother gave me, my mom's stash of mushrooms, my dad's knife for protection, and my Strawberry Shortcake lunch box with my Vicodin. I have back problems. Before I leave I grab my hood my dad gave me when I was thirteen and I walk out the door.
I don't bother listening to my mother about staying away from strangers, she's always trying to control me.
We used to have a car, mom sold it for crack, she blew all of dad's money of crack. Since then she has gone into prostitution. Loving mother's will do anything for their children.
Walking down the block men whistle and holler at me, since my mother is a whore, they think I'm one too. Get too close to me and I'll cut your little prick off.
I take a shortcut through the park where no one goes except the homeless who beg for food and drugs. I sit next to a tree and open my backpack to pop a few mushrooms. My friend got me addicted to these things a year ago, I love them. I eat a few, maybe a few more.
"Mmmm, so good." I said licking my fingers. "They're nice and ripe, and so big!" I think to myself jokingly. "Yummy! Delicious!" I think after I eat each one. I think to myself, "Just one. And one more. This is the last. Well, this one Mmmm."
A man came over to me, asked if I was OK, I laughed at his yellow shirt with a butterfly on it. He was gay, I could tell from his lisp, that and the way he was standing just looked like he had something stuck up his ass already. Then he saw my bag of weed and before I knew it he reached in a grabbed it. He took off and I followed him as fast I could.
"I'll catch you! I'll catch you!" I screamed at him. I couldn't help but laugh though, I was high, chasing a gay man wearing a yellow shirt with a butterfly on it. His black bicycle shorts made all the more funny as he bopped and weaved from side to side like he was some sort of football player. I couldn't catch him and I gave up. Out of breathe and leaned against a tree and saw one of the homeless ladies walk up to me. She smelled like spoiled milk and was missing a few teeth on the top. She said her name was daisy and asked if I could spare any change. I told her I didn't have any then I realized I left my bag over by the tree. Daisy handed me a small piece of cloth, it had flowers on it.
"God bless you, dear." She said.
"Awe, how sweet." I responded to her. It was clean.
"I made it this morning. I was going to sell it but I think you could probably use it for something, dear."
"Awe, wait here, let me go grab my bag, I'll give you something."
I walked back to my bag when I felt a little uneasy, couldn't be the mushrooms, never felt like that before, felt more like I was being watched. I turned and saw a man by a tree. He was big, and checking me out. He was dark skinned, and he has the look of "I just out of prison to rape you" look on his face.
I turned back around, and felt that I should leave the bag and get the hell out of here. Before I could make it back I could hear him right behind me, "Where you going, my pretty little thing, all alone?"
"I'm going to see my grandma, she's got cancer and was going to see her before she dies."
"Is that right? She live up on Broadway then huh?"
I swallowed, "Yea, why?"
"No reason, perhaps I'll see ya 'round, Red."
He walked away, I was scared, afraid he'd do something to hurt me.
Still high on mushrooms I grabbed my backpack and continued to grandma's house. Still a little shaken from that man, scruffy faced, and gruffy voiced, I thought he was going to...nevermind what I thought, he didn't so it doesn't matter.
Finally, I get to her house, barred door and windows. I ring the doorbell, no one answered. She is always home, never leaves, where could she be? I knock on the door through the bars and it opens.
"Hello? Grandma, can I come in?"
I heard nothing, I opened the door and could hear her, but just barely. I walked in slowly when I heard her yelp. I saw her on the floor, tied, and bleeding from her head. The man from the park was standing there in the kitchen.
"HELP!" I screamed but he jumped over her and passed me to slam the door shut. He took out a knife and held it to my face. He grabbed my throat and I didn't know what to do, so I took the knife out of my pocket, and jammed it into his pelvis. He yelled, cussed, and was bleeding all over the place. I tried to get grandma untied before he recovered but he grabbed me by my red hood and threw me against the wall. He called me all shorts of names, but I didn't care, I was going to die, I knew it. He grabbed my hood trying to rip it off of me with his knife, cutting me in the process. He was going to do to me exactly what I was afraid of before, all the while I was high on mushrooms.
Dad always told me to stay on the road, that way I'd stay out of harm. "Keep to the path." he said. He stole the line from The Hobbit. Always told me as a little kid to stay on the road when going to school, stay from drugs, stay away from bad people. I should have listened. Now, as I'm am in my grandma's house, staring at her as she is tied and laying on the floor, I was about to be raped.
"POLICE! OPEN UP!" Yelled a man outside the door. "WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE MICHAEL WOLFE! OPEN THE DOOR AND LET THEM GO!"
I threw the lamp laying next to me at Mr. Wolfe, hitting him in the face. The police man broke in and shot him twice in the stomach. He fell to the ground and bled on grandma's rug I got her for Christmas last year. There I was lying on the floor, soaked in blood, morally wounded, mentally shocked, and still feeling the effects of the mushrooms.
The police called my mom later that day after asking me questions about what happened, she came to grandma's in tears. Said, she was actually worried about me. She walked me home even, I don't know why but I told her about what dad told me growing up.
"Keep to the path, we must always keep to the path and never stop. That way, we come to no harm."
She laughed, "You know where he got that from? Little Red Riding Hood."
"How cliche."