Millions of Red, Shiny Ants

Lay wracked in paranoid dementia. I hadn’t slept for days - how many? Nine, ten? I lost track. As I was saying, I lay in my bed naked - sweating, twitching - sheets rumpled and filthy.

It was unbearable. Though the dark drapes were closed, the sun beamed in through cracks like blinding blades of fire. All the meth that I had was gone and I hadn’t money to purchase more. Not for two days anyway - I was off the next couple of days and utterly broke. I squirmed in vibrating convulsions.

I jolted to the window – certain that I had heard someone out there. Peeking through the musty drapes, the light seared my retina as I scanned hastily for someone creeping up the metal steps. No one.

I faltered - that was when I heard them. The neighbors were fucking loudly in the adjacent apartment. I leapt onto the bed, crouched at the head of the bed with my ear planted against the cold, concrete wall.

Thumpthumpthump.

It was muted and distant – but, I knew they were there!

I grabbed my pipe from the night stand drawer. Sadly glancing at it, I saw the silverish, gray film of residue lining the inside - snatched my lighter and smoked what was left.

Trembling, I turned the pipe left and right skillfully not missing a spot - inhaling the acrid smoke - taste of nickel in my mouth - twisting, turning the pipe. When all was done with the bulb end - when all was gone and it was scorched and streaked with black char - I flipped the pipe around and attempted to carefully place the bulb end to my mouth and smoke what was left in the upper glass stem, searing my lips in the process.

I yelped in pain and waited the few seconds for the bulb to cool - my fingers were now blackened from the carbon, shiny over the dirt. I smoked what was left in the stem and lay propped up against the wall on sweat reeked pillows.

Glancing over at the black lacquer end table, I noticed through fucked up eyes, remnants of meth flakes sprinkled amid the dust. I grabbed the plastic credit card that I always used to line my dope up - raked it all over the top of the end table until I accumulated a thin line of crystal, dust, hair, and God knows what else.

I placed my scrapings into the bulb of the glass pipe and lit up – hearing the popping of what wasn’t meth and yet inhaled all the smoke it emitted.

Thumpthumpthump.

I lay scrunched down against the wall - ear attentive and barely, almost inaudibly, listening to the sounds of some bitch moaning.

It was coming from the apartment on the opposite side of my living room!

I leapt out of bed and dashed to the other room. I yanked the futon couch from up against the wall to the middle of the room - snatched the mattress off of the futon and placed it on the floor against the wall. Returning to the bedroom, I grabbed a pillow and flopped down onto the futon mattress.

Ear firmly planted against the wall, I heard muffled squeaking of bed springs and the gasps and moans of lust. I lay for an hour; listening to that distant, almost inaudible moaning - my mind raced with images of random, broken lust. Sweating and quivering, I began masturbating like an idiot - using the sweat of my palms as lubricant. I must have had laid there jerking off for hours.

Satiating myself, I licked dry, metallic tasting lips and placed my ear back against the wall. It was all quiet - nothing but the reverberating echo of passing cars on the street down below.

It was becoming dusk and the room was quiet and gloomy. I rolled over to my other side and lay staring at the dark red carpet - it was covered in ants!

Crawled off the mattress on hands and knees – my sweat-dripping face inches from the mildew smelling carpet, I saw ants crawling around, mixed in with the black specks of the red carpet.

First, it was just one, then out of my peripheral vision a few, then millions - millions of red, shiny ants skittered to and fro across the carpet.

I stood up - wobbling from lack of food and sleep - and returned to my bed with a sore ear. My body was gummy and felt like rubber - the rush was spiraling down and I knew I had nothing - no money, nothing to sell – nothing for the next two days.

I lay in my bed, body cold, shivering from dried perspiration - stared at that dusty, immobile ceiling fan until finally, after days and nights, I drifted into a dark, tormented sleep.