I
Whoever said money couldn’t buy you happiness was an idiot.
The next couple of weeks went by like a blur. If this had been a movie, the director would have edited it into one whole montage, hopefully with some kickass music playing in the background, too.
The next day after hearing the mind bottling news on the television, we all went down to the closest office, which was in Indianapolis. At first, the manager thought we were trying to swindle them, but then he realized that we were just retarded. After time, everybody figures that out.
He gave us a payment ultimatum, a secret ultimatum that every lottery winner has to decide sooner or later. We could receive a check of a certain amount of cash every month for the rest of our lives, or we could take all of the money at once. However, if we chose the latter then taxes would kick in like a bitch. If we had any skill in mathematics then we might have chose the check payment, but we did not. We chose the latter choice. Therefore, we ended up getting about six million dollars altogether. I thought it was somewhat amusing that the newspaper articles never bothered to mention that little fact.
Two million bucks went down the drain when Mom bought that sweet ass mansion up in Cherryville. I was flabbergasted over how friggin’ big it was! There were enough rooms so each of us could have three to ourselves. The backyard was insane with acres. We could have probably built an entire professional size baseball field there if we wanted to, the stadium and all. Another million and some went to Dad’s game room. Let me tell you, this was the most badass place in the entire world, and I wasn’t allowed to set foot in it. The computer screen was the length and width of the whole wall. Speakers hung from every inch of free space. It was like an AC/DC concert in there. The most comfortable chair you could ever sit your bum in was planted in the center of the place, along with a a three thousand dollar desk. On that desk, there was countless computer equipment for your entertainment need in the very best quality known to Man. Keyboards, hard drives, games, controllers, and anything else you could possibly think of. All of it very delicate and very, very expensive. Another thing that Dad bought for himself was his new pipe. It was crafted exclusively out of gold. We were high class now. Even Kylie had her own bedroom. I know, crazy, right? Mom bought more dolls and kept them in the guesthouse. She set them all up in different positions. Some sat at the table with a cup of tea in their hands and some lay in bed, sleeping. Some were even on the sofa watching the Sox game. It was her own little plastic family.
Of course, we had neighbors. Everybody had neighbors; even goddamn Albert Fish had them. What does Mr. Fish have to do with anything? Not a clue.
There was a mansion a couple hundred yards to the right of us and another mansion a couple hundred yards to the left of us. The one on the right belonged to some cranky old woman named Miss Cindy. It was just her, her butler, and her small dog that greatly resembled a rat. The mansion on the left side of us belonged to the Haugh family. I never met the parents but the children, Mozart and Beethoven, were about my age. They were twins, too. And yes, that was their real names. They were really high class, man. No, I think the word was ignorant. They were ignorant to the word fun. Didn’t know how to get dirty. They always wore suits, maybe even had them on when they went to bed. I felt sorry for them to tell you the truth. They had been brainwashed by their parents. I remembered the first time I met them. I was riding my ATV down the long stretch of empty road. Both dressed cleanly in brown suits and hair neatly combed back, they walked along side the road with grocery bags swinging from their hands. I had pulled over and introduced myself.
“Hey, I’m Johnny. I guess I’m your new neighbor.”
“Hi, I’m Beethoven,” the one on the left said.
“And I’m Mozart,” the one on the right said.
I did not get what they meant. Was their names really Mozart and Beethoven? “Are you guys serious or are you just messing with me?”
“Messing with you with what?” Mozart asked.
“Your guys’ names are really Mozart and Beethoven?” I inquired.
“Yes, why would we make something like that up?” Beethoven demanded.
I started cracking up.
“Whatever you are laughing about, sir,” Mozart said, “you mind your own business. Mother is going to have a heart attack if this flan goes bad.”
“Good day, sir,” Beethoven said.
“Err … good day?” I laughed.
And with that, they went on their way.
As fast as I could I had Kevin over to spend the night. He also could not believe it. I was living the rich life. I was wealthy. It was awesome!
We got drunk as a skunk that night, changed into these badass collectible suits of armor, and beat the shit out of each other with swords. It was a good night all in all.
However, since I lived so far away now I knew that I would not be spending too much time with him. He was my best friend, but I was aware that we would barely keep in contact anymore. It was a shame, really. A great friendship lost.
My first day at the new school was like a day in a concentration camp. Dressed in the standard, irritating suit, I walked through the front doors and took in a whiff of the institute. It smelt like chili and chalk, just like a school should smell. I grabbed a box of cereal from the cafeteria and approached a table occupied by one other kid. He wore thick glasses and braces. He was maybe a year younger than I was.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked.
He looked up in bewilderment and said, “Oh, what? A new one? What do you want from me?”
“What? I just wanted to sit down. Do you mind?”
“Oh, um … if you want to, I guess. But it might not be a good idea.”
This kid was giving me a strange vibe, but all the other tables were nearly full. Therefore, I sat down across from him and poured some milk into my Apple Jacks. “So … I’m Johnny.” He did not respond to that so I asked him what his name was.
“Wesley.”
“Oh, okay. So, what is there to do around this place?”
“It’s a school. What did you do in your old school? Here you do work and more work. That’s all.”
“Oh … that sucks.”
We ate in silence until a boy of about sixteen sneaked up behind Wesley and smashed the back of his head into his Coco Puffs. Ah, bullies. Every school had them. You couldn’t get away from them. I made it my business to personally kick his ass later that day in the hallway. He may have been older than me, but I could certainly brawl like no one‘s business. The dude did not know what hit him.
This school was like any other school, except the kids were snottier. Some of them were like Beethoven and Mozart, but others were very similar to the children from my old schools. They wore the fake gold on their necks and fingers (well, in this case it might have been real gold). They all walked like they were in the ghetto and they recited Dr. Dre lyrics as if they were verses from the Bible. All the schoolchildren owned thousand dollar cell phones and iDiamonds contaminating the hard drives with 50 Cent and Snoop Dogg songs. I used to think they were morons. Back before Mom won the lottery, I was different. I thought the rich were selfish assholes, self-centered wastes of life. However, now I was the one that was rich. The sad thing was, though, I still had the same feelings. But they were just feelings. Now I had the thousand-dollar cell phone, the highly expensive golden iDiamond. What was happening to me? I was just a hypocrite. Nevertheless, I still loved the lifestyle, but I wish I didn’t.
I was a little cautious to go to physical education. That was one class I just did not like. I mean, I liked some of things they did in gym, but those were usually the rare activities. Such as, dodgeball or Frisbee baseball. That stuff was fun. Running laps, jumping rope, and doing pushups were not.
The gym teacher, Mrs. Barker, told us all to sit down in a circle. I was a little surprised that we had a female teacher. She brought out a red ball and I smiled. Either kickball or dodgeball. Didn’t matter which, both were awesome. Barker walked around the circle and I almost thought we were about to play Duck, Duck, Goose for a second there. Then she addressed me. “Mr. Desperation, you’re new here. So, you get to pick the game. What is your favorite subject?”
“Uh … I like dodgeball.”
“What’s dodgeball?” a student wondered.
“Silence!” Barker screamed at him.
I jumped in surprised and looked at her. “School subject, Mr. Desperation. DodgeBall is for the poor. Now, tell me your favorite subject.”
“Oh, um … history?”
“Okay, History Ball it is.” She rolled the ball across the ground and it stopped at the lap of a tall boy with short brownish hair. “Mr. Kelso, you shall receive the first question.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kelso said, struggling to hold back his fright. What fright, I wondered.
“Mr. Kelso, the question is the following: what university did the second president of the United States of America go to? Also, how old was he and what year did he attend? You have thirty seconds.”
“Well, that’s easy. President John Adams attended Harvard College at the age of sixteen in the year of 1751.”
“Very good, Mr. Kelso. You may pass the ball to someone else now.”
Kelso rolled the ball to the boy with blonde hair, the one who had shouted out inquires over dodge ball earlier.
This was certainly strange, to say the least. Weren’t we going to actually do something, other than just sit there in a circle and answer questions? I mean, this was P.E., right? Physical education?
“Mr. Likens, the question is the following: how many US naval vessels did the Kamikaze aircraft sink during World War II? You have thirty seconds.”
I saw Likens trembling with fear. He did not know it. I didn’t even know that. Nobody did, right? That must have been some sort of trick question. It was impossible to keep count on every single warship that exploded to the bottom of the sea. Impossible.
“Five seconds left, Mr. Likens.”
“But I … uh … I just … I don’t know!”
“And time’s up. You know the drill, Mr. Likens. Get to it.”
Likens stood up and bent down, his fingers reaching his toes. Barker picked up a quarter-inch thick fraternity-style paddle and approached him. I was quite curious on just where the hell she pulled the paddle from. It was as if it just appeared within thin air. Then, Barker swung it down on Likens’ ass and he squealed in pain.
“Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed.
Barker stared at me, taken back. “Yes, Mr. Desperation?”
“What the hell are you doing? You can’t beat the students! It isn’t the fifties anymore, lady.”
“Oh, but Mr. Desperation, paddling a student is perfectly legal here in the fine ole United States of America. Now stop interrupting my teaching.”
“Your teaching? This is gym class! Why the hell are we answering history trivia? Let’s play dodgeball or something. Fuck, I’ll even give jump roping a chance today.”
“One more outburst and you will be receiving the same punishment as Mr. Likens here, and then I’ll send you to the office. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I sighed, and sat back down.
Barker picked up the red ball and tossed it at me. I caught it with ease. “Mr. Desperation, the question is the following: what is the title and who is the author of the pamphlet published anonymously on January 10, 1776, during the American Revolution? You have fifteen seconds.”
I smiled. “Oh, I only get fifteen seconds, eh? Well, alright then. The pamphlet was titled “Common Sense”, and it was written by the intellectual, Thomas Paine. Anymore questions?”
“Hmm … good, Mr. Desperation, very good.”
There was no doubt that this school was from the Twilight Zone.
Later that day at my lunch period, I once again sat in the
cafeteria, but this time I sat alone. I ate my tray of bean salad in
peace. Well, that was until that kid Kelso approached me. “Hey, man,”
he said, sitting down next to me.
“Hey,” I muttered.
“Johnny, right? I’m Kelso.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Well, anyways, no doubt you have noticed how fucking psychotic this place is, right?”
I turned to him and chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Well, you’re new here and all and you seem normal. You don’t know how rare it is to have a normal kid in this hellhole.”
“Okay, so what do you want?”
“Well, um …” he looked around and said, “My friend and I have some
… ‘material’ in the bathroom that we’re about to kick in. You want
some action? First hit’s free, man.”
“First hit of what?”
“Of J, man. What the fuck you think?”
I smiled. “Oh man, thanks. I was beginning to think that stuff was extinct out here.”
“Hell no, dude. I’m gonna go to the bathroom down the hall there.
Wait a few and then follow. You don’t want to cause suspicion to that
lunch lady bitch, Miss Price. Trust me, you don’t. See ya in there.”
I waited a full thirty seconds and then dumped my tray. While Miss
Price was holding a conversation with the janitor, I jogged past her
and into the bathroom. Two kids the same as my age stood in the
bathroom. There was a short, chubby kid with freckles and there was
Kelso.
“Anybody see you?” Kelso asked.
“No … I was very inconspicuous.”
“Good. This is Hal,” he said, pointing to the other boy.
“Hey,” Hal said.
“Hi. So, you have that J then?” I was a little worried that we
might set off the smoke alarm, but it was something I was going to risk.
“Of course I do,” Kelso smiled. He reached in his pocket and
brought out what looked like one of those miniature Tag body spray
bottles.
“What the hell is that?” I asked. “Are you trying to imply that I smell?”
Kelso laughed and said, “No, man. This is J.”
“Dude, I think I know what a joint looks like.”
“No, not a joint! This, my friend, is Jericho. This is the new
drug, man,” he said. “You spray it in your mouth and it’s like LSD,
but a whole lot more badass.”
“Really?” I was intrigued.
“Oh yeah, man. It isn’t too dangerous, but if you take a speedball
before oh man watch out! That shit will seriously fuck you up.”
“Speedball?”
“Yeah … smack and blow combined together in the same needle. You
inject that and then take a big whiff of Jericho and you get the thrill
of a lifetime. Highly dangerous, though. Basically a death sentence.
I tried it once, thought my heart was gonna explode out my chest. They
call it ‘kissing the moon’.”
“Why kissing the moon?” I wondered.
“Hell if I know. You wanna take a hit or not?” Kelso asked me.
“Uh … yeah, okay.” Screw it, what was the worst that could
happen? I get high, so what. No big deal. I grabbed it out of his
hand. “Just spray it in my mouth?” I asked.
“Yep, easy as pie.”
I raised it to my mouth and pushed down. A sour tasting mist shot
through my throat and into my lungs, resulting in a coughing fit right
away. Before I could help it, I was losing my balance. I tried to
save myself by grabbing at the top of the trashcan, but I only ended up
bringing that tumbling down with me as well.
“Hey, calm down. You’re gonna get us caught!” Hal blurted out.
“What’s happening to me?” I managed to ask in between coughs.
“That’s how Jericho works, dude. Just give it a couple more
moments and you should start feeling it.” Kelso inhaled a deep hit of
Jericho and then passed it to Hal, who in return did the same. Neither
of them coughed, I noticed. They must have been taking this stuff for
quite awhile.
I gathered myself together and managed to stand to my feet. I
looked around to announce that I did not feel anything when a sudden
sweep of air brushed past my ears. I turned around and saw nothing.
Nobody had opened the door, but it sure felt like somebody did.
“Hello, Johnny.” I snapped back around.
“Who said that?” I asked.
“Said what, man?” Kelso said.
“Who the fuck was that?”
“Hahaha, you’re trippin’ dude!”
Was I tripping? It didn’t feel like I was. Was he lying to me?
“Why would I lie to you?”
Oh shit! He heard me … but I did not remember saying that aloud. Was it possible that he could read minds?
“Hahahaha I can read your mind!” Kelso exclaimed.
“Yeah, me, too,” said Hal.
“Get the fuck out of my head!” I shouted as I ran out of the
bathroom, trying to protect my thoughts. I dashed away from the
cafeteria and found myself in the hallway. I slowed my pace to a stop
so I could catch my breath. Then I heard a voice.
“Hey. Hey! Can you help? I’m stuck in here.”
I turned to one of the lockers. The voice was coming from there. I got up closer and whispered, “Who’s there?”
“Me, Wesley. I can see you through the little holes in the locker
here. Remember earlier this morning? Could you help me please? They
locked me in here.”
“Where the hell are you?”
“I’m in the locker.”
“How did you get in there? Are … are you a cat?”
“What? No, just dial my combination, will ya? It’s 26 … 45 --”
I didn’t wait for him to finish telling me his devilish code. I
began kicking with all my might at the steel locker. “Hold on, buddy,
I’ll set you free!”
Needless to say, I didn’t set him free. A hand grabbed my shoulder
and turned me around. A tall man wearing a gray suit stood before me.
However, he was not human. His face was all out of context, very
distorted. “Your blood smells quite tasty. Mind if I have a sip?” it
asked.
I screamed in horror and fainted. I just prayed that the monster
would not perform an autopsy on me. It did know I wasn’t dead … right?
