Joey Cloudy online

chapter 32

Tramp: The Dope Show 

“The drugs, they say, make us feel so hollow / We love in vain, narcissistic and so shallow 
The cops and queers, to swim, you have to swallow /Hate today, no love for tomorrow” 

-Marilyn Manson 

It had been a long night Aaron and Ahmad were both exhausted after the poetry reading they’d hung out at the Metro a dive of a café about a mile or so east of downtown directly across the street from Baylor’s dental hospital.  With its chrome skirted stools in front of the cracked and aged linoleum cover lunch counter. The booths were well worn vinyl covered with the same nineteen fifties kitsch as the stools at the counter.  It wasn’t much in the way of ambiance but it was open twenty four hours, close to the strip, and had a killer selection on the jukebox.  Most of the customers were street people the usual menagerie of drunks, junky whores and and hustlers.   

While most of the suburbanites and upper-class poets who hung out at Insomnia were ill at ease Aaron felt right at home here.  He’d wake up early put in a solid four hours writing before going to work. Being the host of the weekly reading he felt compelled to have fresh material for the poets who traveled so far to such a wild part of the city to be on.  But by four AM when the cab finally dropped them off at his room at the in north Dallas hotel they were both beat.  Father and son had both earned a good night’s sleep.   

As soon as Aaron opened the door the smoke from all of the crack being smoked in the room rolled out and slapped his face.  His younger brother Ernest sat in the room with a half a dozen other dope fiends smoking rock seeming shocked, as if Aaron didn’t live here, oblivious to the fact that his 11 year old nephew was standing at the door with his father witnessing this spectacle.   

Ernest quickly palmed the straight running to the door before the shock wore off and stepped outside closing the door to thier hotel room behind him preventing Aaron from entering.   

What the fuck is this bullshit?!  Why you got all these crack head mother fuckers in my goddamned room?!   

Hey man I thought ya’ll was gonna spend the night at Tavah’s or Mona’s or some shit.  I really didn’t expect to see ya’ll tonight.  But it’s cool the white boy is the maintenance man gave me a key to a room better than this one so ya’ll can crash there tonight.   

So, I’m supposed to take my son to another room instead of the room that I pay for so you and your dope fiend buddies can smoke crack in my goddamned room all night?!  Why don’t you bitches just pack up the all the glass dicks ya’ll been sucking on all night and take y’alls asses to the other room?!  

Come on man we just having a little party I promise I’ll have everything cleaned up by morning he pleaded.  Aaron too tired to go through this again with his little brother snatched the key from him.   

You’d better have your money for the mother fucking rent this week that’s all I got to say this is some old bullshit and you fucking know it.  What the fuck would you do if you came home with Angelica and your daughter saw me in the room smoking rocks with a bunch a crack heads and rock star whores!   

I’m sorry Bro’ I promise this the last time .  This shit will never happen again.  We were just having a little party and the shit got a little outta control.  But everythang’ll be cool by the time you get off a work tomorrow.  

Just be sure none of them sorry motherfuckers fuck with my shit!  I’ll be back in the morning to get some clean close before work.  What’s the room number? 

  314.   

Aaron turned and headed up the stairs to the third floor to find the room.  Ahmad followed in confused silence this was just like being at home with his mom and her crackhead boyfriends.  He hoped that it was over.  He didn’t like being around the all dope fiend drama at home.  The time he spent with his Dad at the poetry readings, writers workshops and painting was a relief from all of the screaming, fighting and filth that his mom lived in.  He savored the bohemian poverty of life with his dad.  His dads writer friends were all in college or degreed professionals no matter how poor his dad was, being with him was a welcomed change from the chaotic hell that was his life at home with his mother.  Ahmaad hoped that his uncle Ernest would just leave soon. he hated when he was around things always went wrong whenever he was around for long.   

Aaron swiped the card through the electronic lock, the door opened to a room nearly twice the size of the room that he was living in downstairs it even had a sofa, a coffee table and a breakfast nook with a tiny round dining room table w two chairs plus a king sized bed instead of 2 twins.  They entered the room dropped their back packs on the floor.   

You take the sofa and I’ll crash out on the bed we’ll get up early get cleaned up and then go downstairs and get some clean clothes and brush our teeth before we head for work.   

OK?  Daddy is uncle Ernest going to be all right?   

Yeah, he’ll be fine he’s just having a hard time coping.  Even though he fronts like he thank he’s all hard Billy bad ass he really misses being at home with his fat stupid wife and daughter.   

Do you miss being with momma and me?   

Yeah, all the time.  I still love your momma but I know that we ain’t ever going to get back together no matter what.   

Why not if you love her wouldn’t you get back together with her if she wanted you back?   

No I couldn’t ever be with your momma again too much bad blood too much history.  When your older you’ll understand I know this doesn’t make any sense to you know but when you’re older you’ll understand.  That sometimes people hurt each other too many times so badly that nothing can ever bring them back together.  That they wound each other so badly that it the hurt can never be healed between them.  But fuck it look at the size of this room.  Shit.  Its huge.  Get some sleep son everything‘ll be alright in the morning son.   

I love you Dad.   

I love you too son.  Now, get some sleep nigga’ we got a long day at work tomorrow.  Aaron sat on the edge of the bed kicking off the steel toed boots and pulling off the two pairs of socks.   

Dad, are you mad at Uncle Ernest?   

Yeah, I guess I’m a little pissed but I’m more disappointed than anything else.  I guess I just hoped that he had all of this dope fiend bullshit behind him by now.  but I guess I knew in my heart that nobody ever gets past something like this you know.  Once a dope fiend always a dope fiend no matter how long they go without using it’s just a countdown until life gets hard and they use that as an excuse to do what they’ve been wanting to do the whole time which is get high.  Even before momma died I always felt like it was my job to watch out for him.  You know what I mean?   

Yeah, when I’m at home with the babies it’s hard to keep an eye on them all the time and make sure they stay out of trouble.   

Yeah I guess you know as well as anybody how hard it is to be the big brother huh.   

Yeah the babies get to mess up all the time and get away with it but if you’re the oldest then you get in trouble when you mess up and when they mess stuff up.   

That’s it exactly and the most fucked up part of it is even after you’re grown nothing really changes you always feel kinda responsible for them like their failures as human beings somehow reflects badly on you.   

But you’re nothing like Uncle Ernest Daddy you’re only poor because you’re an artist not because you waste all of your money on dope.  You don’t ever make excuses for anything and you get up early everyday and do whatever takes to get it done.   

Yeah I guess you’re right, it’s just that sometimes you wonder if you’re doing the right thing and if you’re doing enough.   

Nobody we know writes as much as you even the people who don’t have to work every day don’t write as much as you do.  You get up and get it done every day dad.  You’re like a machine.  Everyone admires you for it.   

Do you know what the difference is between an excuse for failure and a reason for failure?   

No.   

Nothing, it’s all just failure.  For people like us it’s not an option.  If we don’t succeed then we’re just fucked.  There’s no safety net. No inheritance, no bed of money to cushion the fall.  We’re out on the streets, flat on our black asses with nothing.  Failure is not an option.  Aaron turned off the lamp beside the bed and stared at the ceiling in the darkness.  The room was silent now except for the mechanical hum of the central heating and air-conditioning unit.   

For an eleven year old boy Ahmad was wise beyond his years.  He believed in the old man even when the old man didn’t believe in himself.  Despite his dire circumstance the kid still believed and he’d be goddamned if he let him down.  He was going to make it somehow he was going to do whatever it took to live up to the enormous faith that that one kid had in him.  Drunk assed Daddy, crackhead little brother, suicidal mother and the rest of the world waiting for him to fall flat on his face.  He was going to write his way out of this and make a better life for himself and his son.  Anybody that got in the way of him and whatever it was that he wanted had better be ready to kill him to keep him from succeeding because the only thing that could stop him now was a bullet to the brain.  Times like these he felt like they were Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kidd.  He sat there in the darkness comforted by the faith that his son had in him, he didn’t need anything else.   

Don’t worry son.  He whispered into the darkness.  I won’t let you down.  

The next morning Aaron and Ahmad entered the room at eight thirty to brush their teeth and call Jennifer wake her up and get a ride to the gallery.  The room was a mess with empty beer bottles and dope fiend paraphernalia all over the place.  Ernest was still in the bed asleep with Boo one of the crack whores from the party last night. Plastic baggies, scorched chore and Pyrex glass tubes were all over the place.  A 12 inch square mirrored tile sat on the dresser with a razor and several grams of crack rocks sitting on it next to a busted glass straight with a copper chore crammed in the broken end of it.   

The air in the room stank with the smell of burnt chemicals; crack always smelled like a someone had just raised the hood of a over heating engine to Aaron.  Obviously Ernest wasn’t going to be able to make it into work today.  Neither he or his whore Baby Boo stirred as Aaron and Ahmad went about their business not bothering to try and be quiet as they changed clothes and got cleaned up before work.   

Aaron picked up the phone looked at his beeper and found Jennifer’s number.  Get ready son I’m gonna hafta call Jennifer and wake her drunk ass up so we can get to work on time.  It had become almost routine, whenever he was here he’d call her to be sure she got up and made it to work on time.  Jennifer livened in one of the swank ass posh condos across the street from Aarons hotel.  Another rich white girl a top heavy red head who lived her with her animie geek of a boyfriend and a couple of other rich white kids who spent most of their time drinking every night.   

At the fourth ring of the phone a male voice answered.   

Hello?  he mumbled groggily into the phone.   

May I speak to Jennifer?   

Yeah, Just a minute.  A few minutes later Jennifer’s was on the phone. 

Hey Aaron, thanks for waking me up dude.  Do you need me to pick you up this morning she asked?   

Yeah, if you don’t mind.   

No, you know I don’t mind.  I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.   

Ok.   

Ok bye.   

Aaron picked up a half smoked blunt from the ashtray on the nightstand between the two full sized beds in the room and fired it up.  He never rolled his shit in blunts it seemed like such a waste of good bud but these niggas rarely seemed to have any of the good kind so it usually took a lot more to get a buzz that it did smoking the high THC loaded weed he was used to smoking with the suburban white boys.   

Boo sat up on the bed directly across from Aaron and he passed the blunt to the beautiful naked whore sitting on the edge of the bed in front of him then got up and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth before Jennifer arrived.  Boo smiled at him as he got up to get ready for work and he found himself smiling back at her before he left the room.  By the time he finished brushing his teeth and gargling with Listerine Boo had already dressed and left taking one of the large rocks of cocaine off the mirror sitting on the dresser before she left. he noticed.   

Dope fiends.  Ernest you going to work nigg@’?   

Huh, naw dog, I already called in, I’m gonna take the day off and chill.   

You know it ain’t that hard to replace a nigg@ with a record like yours with a mother fucker who’ll get his ass up every day and get to work on time.   

Hey nigga don’t be sweatin’ me I got this shit under control!  

Do you!?   

Yeah, I do!   

All right, I just don’t wanna hear no excuses when you go in and Pedro got cho’ job.   

Fuck you bitch.  Boo in the bathroom?   

Nah she got up after we got here and bounced.   

Ernest looked at the dresser noting the missing rock.   

Shit! he muttered pulling the covers back over his head and turning over to go back to sleep.  Be sure the do not disturb sign is on the door before you leave bro’ I don’t want the cleaning lady coming in here while I’m crashed out and tripping and shit.   

Alright my nigg@’ I’ll handle it, latter.  Aaron and Ahmad changed into clean jeans and tee shirts and then left the room to wait for Jennifer to outside.  As soon as they left the room Ernest got out of bed and checked under the mattress for his stash, it was still there, a plastic baggie that held several hundred dollars worth of crack.  He pushed the copper chore out of the busted straight on the dresser and packed it into one that was so dirty from use that the glass was frosted white, the insides were so caked with coke, he placed one of the smaller rocks on the mirror into the end of the glass until the pea sized rock of crystallized cocaine rested against the copper chore then ignited it with a cigar lighter, happy that he didn’t have to share it with Boo or anybody else. 

-about the author JD Cloudy’s poetry has disappeared in the literary journals; Fatfizz, Mad Swirl, Texas Beat Anthology, Danse Macabre, Du Jour, and Death List Five. He has won no literary awards, entered no slam competitions, and never completed college. He lives to write in Dallas, Tx.