"God damn," I said falling into my well-worn beanbag chair.
"You have any Zofran... or weed? I could really use some weed."
"A few crumbs laying around somewhere. Dunno where though. I've been taking res hits all fuckin day."
White Mike's eyes were shifty. Always trying to stare around the corners of every room. Flickering like a fluorescent light right before it burns out but never shutting off.
"Fuck it I'll have what you're havin."
I never really cared much for weed and res hits were disgusting, migraine-inducing, shitty... running out of adjectives. Let's just go with REALLY fucking digusting but anyway... It was fun when life was offered fewer obligations but now it was just part of the recipe like a dollop of salt on some processed meat dish. An addition to stretch out the high from whatever witch's brew I decided to poison myself with on any given night. Tonight it was Morphine... lots and lots of Morphine.
"One of my friends died today," Mike said in between nods.
"Oh shit man who was it?"
"I'm... (C'mon stay awake stay the fuck awake. You've heard too many horror stories about mixing pills with booze to-)
After some amount of lost time (2 mins, 2 hours who the fuck knows?)
"I'm sorry," I answered
(Did I? I suppose I did... not the most pleasant realization to come to).
"That sucks man. I'm really sorry," I said again.
"Shit, it was in the mail. Always is. I'm just glad it wasn't me this time."
"You know right before he died. He told me that he was getting into this Black Magic shit."
(Here we go).
"He was seeing demons everywhere. Voices all of that shit... He'd been getting the fent from someone online and he said they were in this cult or something... It makes ya wonder man."
"Eh, I've never... (nodding out again). I've never put much stock in any of that. There's usually a rational explanation for those kinds of things."
"Fuck no there isn't. There's nothing rational about this shit. Travis is dead. He's fuckin dead and I'm high off my ass talking to you about why he' dead.Shit, I'm almost positive that half the kids in town tried to cop a bag of whatever killed him without even knowing what it was If you're gonan put stock in anything put it in fentanyl and we both know that's irrational as fuck."
"Heh, yeah I guess so."
Maybe there was something to it. Was there anything good(?) useful(?) or rational(?) In the world? Anything capable of creating something so beautiful that it's evil... Is that the nature of God or Travis' magical demons? There was nothing but darkness before He spoke the universe into being. There were no rational explanations. There was also no metric to measure them by. No spectrum of petty, conceptual things like good and evil or long-winded talk about how they could be achieved. No allegorical works of prose or cryptic messages told to pass time by people wandering around in the desert. It was nothingness. The natural state of things. Maybe it never changed. The chaos didn't go away for us. The nothingness, that place that I (and many others) tired in vain to escape to every night but four words, four fucking words changed all of that... Let there be light.