Summer Neurotransmitter Disruption

"I'm not ready to go home yet!" Phil was adamant. We were riding the trails down by the creek. He was on the upward surge of a powerful DXM high and soon would be having conversations with people who were not there.

I wasn't high, but I was out of cigarettes. Hot and tired, the sun was topping out the afternoon sky. Humidity at a hundred percent. I never understood what that meant. Seemed like a hundred percent humidity should be rain. Dinner tonight was at a pizza buffet. I wasn't very excited by it, but I did know that Mom would have the air conditioner on this afternoon. I longed for it and didn't want to baby sit Phil as he stripped his clothes off and ran through the creek, again.

"Why do you do that shit?" I asked him.

"Go home if you like," he suggested. He stood and peddled hard on his old Schwinn. Jumped a rock and narrowly missed slipping into the creek.

"I wish your chain would snap," I said.

"You can be such a little bitch." His long blond hair was sticking to the sweat on his forehead. That far away expression was starting to surface on his face. I wish he would have thrown up.

"I can also be home in the air watching TV," I snapped.

Phil stepped off the bike and sat on a log facing the running water.

"I'll be visiting you someday in an institution, where they put you once your brain becomes so damaged that you can't stop drooling and babbling."

"You can keep my bike chain as a memorial to hang on your wall," he answered cryptically. Sweat rolled off my hair and onto my glasses. I had to take them off to wipe them on my shirt, which would leave a big smudge so I wouldn't be able to see until I got home. Phil stood and walked away. It was a blur, like a dream. Some vision from another dimension. A blond robot, skinny legs protruding from dark shorts. A science fiction horror story. I tried to squint my eyes but was blinded by the bright sun reflected from the water's surface. I didn't get to see where he went. When I replaced my glasses he was no where in sight.

I sat on the log where he had been seated and sighed heavily. I wouldn't leave him. I knew that. My stomach would hurt later from the heat, and I'll be in no condition for the pizza buffet. "You'll get poison ivy again," I said out loud, just in case Phil was close enough to hear. Tomorrow I will stay home and watch Gilligan’s Island reruns.


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