Thursday, August 7, 2014

{ 29 } Andy Made Me Write This

So, Andy forced me to write a thing. And I did. I hate it. What do you think?

Sometimes you do the acid; sometimes the acid does you.

Renee felt her house shift below her feet.
Was that an earthquake? No, earthquakes don't happen in Nebraska.
 That's when Renee remembered the two hits of acid she had taken.
Oh, fuck. I'm fucked.
Renee looked at the walls of her house: they were melting. Bricks moving in and out, as if some divine hand was pushing messages through from the outside. Pets: melting. Hands: melting.

Milk, milk, milk. I need milk.

Renee picked up the phone and called Luke.
Luke! I need milk!
Luke, on the other end of the line, was not confused. He knew. He knew what Renee had done.
Hang on, baby. I'm on my way. With milk.

Time... Time... Time passes...

Renee: I'm fucking dying!
Luke: I brought you a gallon of milk!
Renee: It's solid! It's solid!
Luke: No! Renee! Sleep!
Renee: Luke. I'm okay. I'm not... melting.
Luke: Renee... You're not melting. Lay down. Go to sleep...
Renee:  Sleep. I should melt in to sleep...

And she did.

Renee slept. Sordid dreams.
But in the morning, all was okay. No melting.

It's a short. It has an ending. Pffft.