Dustland Requiem (A Bard's Folktale)

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  The two long-estranged friends sat on the burnt-out porch in the middle of the night, sharing a cigarette. “Atticus, you’re one crazy motherfucker, you know that?” The scruffier of the two, Jake, kicked back, relaxing while keeping an eye out for scorpions. “Spend that much time lookin’ for me… I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re an all right guy an’ all, but we were like seven.”

  “Tw-twelve-ish, actually. And you w-were my only friend.”

  “Man, I forgot how weird you rich kids are. Can’t even make friends.” Jake laughed to himself.

  “I su-suppose. Still, you never d-did tell me why you di-didn’t come home.”

  Jake finished his cigarette, flicking it back into the bar before digging into his pocket and pulling out another.

  “J-jake, you really sh-shouldn’t.”

  “Or else what? The rubble’ll burn down?” Jake lit the cigarette and took a slow drag, inhaling the bittersweet nectar of cancerous death. “I didn’t come home ‘cause there was no reason to. The past is kinda fuzzy, but some bullshit cliché about gettin’ found. Don’t remember if I was floatin’ or washed up or what, but it don’t really matter, does it? Ended up livin’ with a junkie family that didn’t give much of a shit about what I did. Taught me how to get by without school or any of that Cleaver family crap. Eventually got tired of them and moved on. Enough of a hist’ry lesson for ya?”

  He flicked the ash from his cigarette, waiting for the smoke to drift out of his lungs before turning to Glenn. His unkempt, unsteady friend nodded. He offered Glenn another cigarette, but his friend instead pulled out a pill bottle and started to unscrew the cap. Jake held out his hand, to which Glenn handed him the bottle.

  “The fuck’re these?”

  “K-klonopin.”

  “K-pins huh? They business or pleasure?”

  Glenn adjusted his glasses, his hand starting to shake visibly.

  “R-required. I overd-dosed on my other meds a few months ago. I tolerate these b-better and they help k-keep me c-calm.”

  “You OD and the doc gives you klonnies. That’s some funny shit. Good old American medicine. Well, I know you dunno this, but I actually used to work for a doc, so here’s my medical advice.”

  Jake stood up, careful not to drop his cigarette from his mouth, and rocked his arm back, heaving the bottle off into the distance. He took his seat once again, offering Glenn another cigarette. Looking at him wide-eyed, Glenn’s shaky hand took the cigarette.

  “Relax, man. Those things weren’t worth sellin’, and if you really need ‘em, you can get way better drugs out here. But check it out: you’re worried about OD’ing again, right?”

  Glenn hesitantly nodded.

  “A’ course. Every junkie’s nightmare is OD’ing. Or not getting a fix. But check it out: Among the many glorious things I’ve done in my life, kicking this shit was the least interesting.”

  Glenn cocked an eyebrow as he placed the cigarette between his lips. Jake tossed him a lighter, watching him light up.

  “We’re all gonna die, Atty. Every one of us motherfuckers has an expiration date. And since, like me, you’ve already kicked on death’s door, you understand that better than most the other pansies running around here.”

  “Th-that’s been the p-problem. With limited exceptions, I don’t c-care anymore. Whether I live or die, or d-do anything at all, it d-doesn’t matter much. N-not like it used to.”

  Jake took the cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on his boot, tucking the butt behind his ear.

  “Atticus, shut the fuck up. Whatever you’re worried about, it ain’t that important. You bitch about not carin’, but if you don’t care, there’s no reason ta’ bitch about it.”

  “J-jake, it’s not that—”

  Jake took to his feet, lifting Glenn by the collar of his shirt. He pulled Glenn’s face close to his own, and threw him back onto the ground, knocking the cigarette out of his mouth. He watched as Glenn landed on the ground, the wind knocked out of him.

  “Look around, man. This town’s dead. Burnt to the ground. Every man, woman, and child that wasn’t lucky enough to get gone has shuffled off. Maybe that makes them the lucky ones. Dunno. What I do know is that so far today, it wasn’t us. But it will be soon enough. Maybe come morning, maybe come the mornin’ after that. Tried to take yer own life, Atty, so what could you possibly fear that you ain’t done yerself?”

  Glenn cleaned himself off and picked himself up. He opened his mouth to reply, but formed no words, instead catching Jake’s fist in his gut, dropping him to the ground once again.

  “I’ve probably talked more today than I have in the last month, ‘cause ta’ be honest, you’re the only person who asked. But words don’t fix nothin’. Words don’t change nothin’. We live until we die, like every forefather that fucked our ancestors into existence before us.”

  Jake pulled the butt out from behind his ear, placing it once again between his lips and lighting the remnants as Glenn drew heavy breaths, trying to recover.

  “Take a deep breath, take it all in, and look around. We told death to piss off, and for today, we’re still here. Get outta your goddamn head about it.”

  Glenn stood up, shaking, and smacked the cigarette out of Jake’s mouth. Jake laughed it off, hitting Glenn upside the head. Glenn recoiled, rubbing his head before looking up with fury in his eyes. He charged Jake and tackled him to the ground. The two lay there, Glenn pinning Jake on the ground.

  Jake hocked a loogie into Glenn’s face, causing Glenn to fall back. Jake picked up his cigarette and lit it for a third time, puffing it only once before mounting and pinning Glenn to the ground. The two stared each other down. Jake pulled off Glenn’s scratched up glasses, tossing them onto the charred porch. Smiling, he took the lit cigarette and put it out on Glenn’s cheek.

  He held Glenn’s face in the dirt as the cigarette cauterized his cheek, ignoring the cries of pain while the tip sizzled. When the cigarette extinguished in Glenn’s face, he removed it, chucking the cigarette aside and freeing Glenn. Jake returned to the porch, picking up a bottle of whiskey he had salvaged during his evenings out, and took a swig. He offered some to Glenn, who kept his distance.

  “Your loss.”

  Jake kicked back, taking another swig. Glenn picked up his fallen cigarette, lighting it and taking a puff. He stared Jake down. Jake sat laughing at him, sloshing the whiskey around. Glenn rushed toward him, slamming Jake’s back into the porch, and returned the favor by forcing his own cigarette into Jake’s face. Though Glenn’s form was sloppier, it was far more commanding. Jake shoved Glenn off, dropping the whiskey bottle in the process.

  The two were once again staring at each other, each with a circular burn mark on his face. Glenn was the first to make a move, picking up the whiskey bottle and taking a drink for himself. He then handed it back to Jake, who continued to drink.

  “Now you’re startin’ to get it. Flesh is just flesh, brother. Body is slave to the mind.”

  Glenn looked to Jake from the corner of his eye. “You’re insane.”

  “I’m not hearin’ any complaints, ya little pussy.”

  Jake punched Glenn on the shoulder, passing the whiskey bottle. Hearing the howl of a coyote off in the distance, Jake stood up and howled back into the humid desert night—the two friends reunited at last.